#it bit especially hard when it came to fucking with my layout

[tls123]

if you want to explain your choice feel free to reply/tag/comment/send a message/etc. <3

[aritamargarita]

GOLDEN || 005

hello everyone we are backk i was too busy of dying from embarrassment and the fact tumblr was being weird. i said i was hungry then i went back to sleep then i woke up again and decided to eat cereal, yeah

this is the mirror chapter to the ecw one..things are a bit different here in this timeline by the way, for the sake of continuity we’ll say macho man did not help create wolfpac and it was scott hall instead. i do be struggling to post though.

had to rewrite this so many times it got so bad. sorry if this seems short. if you forgive me i will give y'all two attitude chapters..the calm before the storm AND VENGEANCE! if it lets me post lol. my layout is FUCKED i cant even add anything else augh i give up. i'll come back for this

People disagree on a lot of things. They can disagree on the type of music they like, they can disagree on what kind of foods they like, and they can even disagree on something as simple as their favorite colors.

However, people found it hard to disagree whether or not you deserved a spot in World Championship Wrestling. There’s people that love you, there’s people who hate your guts, there’s people that feel conflicted.

One thing was certainly true though, whenever you’re set to be on television, no one could ever take their eyes off of you. Even though you were mainly on commentary right now, it’s hard to pay attention when you’re around.

Maybe it’s your cadence. Maybe it’s the way you carry yourself. Maybe it’s just because you’re a fighter. It’s something about you that makes people wonder. It’s how you landed yourself in the New World Order in the first place.

Macho Man and Miss Elizabeth had dispersed from the group. Hogan split to try and create his own, NWO Hollywood, which left Kevin Nash and Scott Hall to deal with the damage.

After nights of debating what to do with themselves, the both of them created the NWO Wolfpac, but it wasn’t complete. There’s something missing. Some spice to the group, a wildcard….someone no one would ever expect.

They came to the conclusion that they wanted a woman in the group. It’d be something new. Something that’ll give them a hold on the steadily growing women’s division as well. As of right now, there were very limited options. Elizabeth was already with Macho Man, they were damn sure Madusa wasn’t interested, and they didn't want just anyone.

So, that leaves you. Who better than the Queen of Extreme herself?

Now, they didn’t know you entirely too well, but they’ve heard of your accolades so far. Every so often they’ll watch ECW to compare it to WCW, so they’ve seen you more than once.

You could remember meeting them like it was yesterday. You were sitting in the office of Eric Bischoff, with him telling you how “you were trying too hard” for a chance to get in the ring and compete for the title.

You’ve got a rising suspicion that people were talking around backstage and you wouldn’t stand for it.

“We gave you a spot on commentary.” Eric says, shifting through papers. You were sure your contract was somewhere in there. “Isn’t that enough for you?"

“No.” You quickly answer. While you tried to be grateful for being on commentary, it’s boring to just watch matches and not get in on the action. “There’s a women’s division here and I want to get in on that.”

It was the whole reason why you jumped ship, truth be told. It’s fun getting involved in others matches and competing with the men, but you wanted to extend your range.

Women’s wrestling doesn’t get as much attention as it deserves. Even when you were in ECW, most of the ‘matches’ weren’t matches. They were cat fights that last 6 seconds. You and Luna’s match was the only official woman’s match in the company, and even then, you two didn’t have a lot of time to do what you wanted.

A lot of your coworkers were upset you were going to jump ship. Especially Raven. He was begging you not to leave, which was rare coming from him.

He eventually stopped begging, which makes you think he’s come to terms with the fact you were leaving. Paul Heyman did his best to make you stay, but it's about time you set your sights on other things.

It wasn’t looking too hot so far, though. Eric looks up at you. “Even if you wanted to, there’s no one for you to wrestle right now. You want to become a Nitro Girl? Know how to dance?”

“No.” You repeat, shaking your head this time. “I can dance, but I don’t wanna be a Nitro Girl.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Eric exasperatedly asks, setting down the stack of papers. “We’re not getting anywhere here.”

You quickly counter. “I’m trying to get somewhere. Are you not understanding me? What’s the issue?? There’s a whole division! And I’m not in it!”

He pauses for a moment before looking back up at you. “I do understand. It’s hard to not understand you. I told you, you were trying a bit too hard and people were starting to get concerned with your attitude.”

Your attitude? What? You’ve been kind and sweet to everyone backstage so far.

“I don’t have an attitude.” You say. “And I’m nice to everyone here.”

“Listen, don’t shoot the messenger.“ He holds his hands up in defense. “I’m sure you’re a real sweetheart. Unfortuneately, I’ve started to hear otherwise.”

“Color me intrigued. Who’s been saying those things?”

Before he could answer you, the door opens and in comes Kevin Nash and Scott Hall. At the sight of you sitting down, bright smiles grow on their faces.

“Hey, chica,” Scott says, taking a toothpick out of his mouth. “You’re just the person we’ve been looking for.”

“Glad both of you are in one place.” Kevin says. “We’ve got an offer that’ll work out for all of us…”

And it was just history after that. This storyline saved you from possibly tanking and the NWO gaining more popularity. Were they listening from outside of the door? Possibly. Would they confirm? No. Would they deny?? No.

It was easy for you to become closer with Kevin and Scott. All of your personalities just flow like water together. Eric Bischoff was glad he made the decision in the end, especially since you three were bringing him more money at the end of the day.

You three had gotten so close, that the first promotional picture you took was the three of you in matching red and black gear.

You really liked that photo. So much so, you decided to frame it and put it on your wall with the rest of them. Some would say it’s conceited to display photos of yourself, but who really cares? No one ever tells you those things.

….Actually, Kevin does. Every time he and Scott drop by your home, he always comments on your pictures, then falls asleep on your couch like the heathen he is.

Somehow he manages to hear every little thing in the house. If you turn the television off, he’d shoot up and say he’s watching it like an old man.

Scott’s always been a friendlier house guest. Sometimes he’d bring you housewarming gifts, but you can’t say he’s not like Kevin, he does immediately goes to sleep in your recliner chair. It’s his favorite spot.

Those housewarming gifts reminds you of the time he brought you the absolute ugliest glass vase you’ve ever seen. It was so bad. The colors clashed with each other, the shape was weirder than a normal vase, and you weren’t entirely sure if flowers would even look good in it.

You still accepted it though. It’s your shitty little vase. You will love and cherish it forever.

HOWEVER, even though they treated you with respect, they weren’t exactly the best at treating your house with respect.

You knew Kevin and Scott were quite the socialites. You met new people everyday thanks to them. They’d drag you to parties and bars, just about anything that was a big event. If anyone from ECW knew, they’d be incredibly jealous that you’re going out with them.

The one time you let them host something at your house was a disaster. A big disaster.

Kevin insisted you get pizza that night, so that’s exactly what you did. You were confused when he ordered like 10 of them. He said it was a small event. It must’ve been a mistake, but you’ll be damned if you pass on free pizzas. Now you don’t have to cook for a while!

You’re going to have to make two trips, which was kinda annoying but oh well. It is what is is. You’re only holding four pizzas, so it’s a little difficult to see in front of you.

Once you open the door, you’re greeted with loud music. What is happening? No one’s in here singing kumbaya right now….

You really hope your neighbors haven’t called the police. You assume it’s safe since you pulled in the driveway with no cop car sitting there, but holy shit, this is REALLY LOUD. You're not even sure what to do. All you can do is stand at the front of your door, pizzas in hand.

Your eyes dart around to some of your coworkers and people you didn’t even know. What the hell can you do?!

“Heyyy, mamacita! You saved us! We’re dyin’ from hunger here!” The voice makes you come back to Earth, turning your head to the left. It’s Eddie Guerrero strutting towards you while wearing sunglasses inside. Huh…

He grins at you before opening a pizza box. “Pepperoni, eh? Got anything else? Tastes too plain to me.”

“Just—“ You sigh, literally giving him all four boxes. “Take it all. It’s all yours. I don’t know what’s on the rest.” You’re too exasperated to even start another conversation. You need everyone to get the hell out of here first.

You leave him to walk over to a blonde woman who was chatting it up with other people. “Hey, excuse me…who are you?”

She looked familiar, but you couldn’t place a name on her.

The woman turns to you, drink in hand. There’s no animosity on her face, just a big smile. “Oh, I’m Torrie. Are you friends with Kevin too? I gotta say, when he invited me here, I was surprised. I’m having a good time! And this house is huge! Whoever is the owner really outdid themselves.”

….You really don’t care. “I see. You could say I’m a friend. I have to ask, have you seen him around anywhere? Or if you know him, have you seen Scott Hall?"

“Hmm, I saw him earlier, but I’m not sure where he went. I think I saw the other guy you were talking about over there.” She says, motioning over to the corner with her free hand. "I keep hearing his name."

You nod, thanking her quickly before letting out a sigh. "...Fun fact, I'm the owner of this house. I need all of you to get out of-"

“Catch!” You hear someone yell. You immediately snap your head over to see two people playing catch with your vase. Not just any vase, THE SHITTY VASE! Now it’s certified that everyone’s gotta get the hell out.

“Stop! Stop throwing the damn vase!” You yell at them. They listen luckily. Before you make your big announcement, you needed to find at least one of your boys. Your ears are starting to ring from this music.

You found Scott first. He was entertaining some ladies, but he immediately shoo’d them away once he got sight of you. You were fuming, so much so that Scott started to feel scared of you. The words; “what’s wrong, chica—“ had barely left his mouth before he let out a whistle at your expression.

You point a finger at him. The smile that appears on your face scares him even worse. “Scott, you know I love you, right?”

“Yeah…?” This is probably the first time you’ve heard his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Great. Everyone needs to get the hell out. You tell me where Kevin is, I’ll let you stay.”

Scott knew that snitches get stitches, but it’s every man for himself. He’s never snitched any faster in his life.

After that fiasco, Kevin very profusely apologized to you. He repeatedly told you he wouldn’t do it again, all the while the person who betrayed him stood and watch the drama unfold. Fortunately, he’s kept true to his word.

These days he and Scott just drop by for some simple hospitality and to travel together for the show.

Your mother would probably chew you out if she knew how lenient you were these days. She’d just have to understand that they’re your friends, so of course you’d help them out every now and then.

Truth be told, you actually enjoyed the company. It made your home a lot less lonelier. There was a time where you had no visitors when you were in the midst of jumping from promotion to promotion. You weren’t sure if you liked the silence or not…

Save it for another time. Thinking back on the past is fun, but the present is what truly matters.

You’re backstage, idly pacing around as you glance towards the small television screen every so often. There’s a segment with Eric Bischoff and Hulk Hogan going on, something that you found incredibly boring.

They didn’t give you any matches today. It was more than likely because the men were mostly dominating the card. You just wanted to punch the wall.

Eric had recently said you were going to get more involved, but so far it’s looking like that’s not the case...ugh.

Both Kevin and Scott were backstage with you, not ready in the slightest. Meanwhile, you were already ready and raring to go. On cue, you were supposed to interject in honor of the Wolfpac. The other two would come out later to defend you.

Kevin’s too busy on the phone to pay attention to the segment. “Yeah, man. Scary woman. She’ll kill you if you even look at her wrong.”

“What’re you talking about?” You ask, turning around. “Where’s Scott?”

He waves you off, then motions towards the bathroom. “Yeah. Nah, that’s not it. She’s a sweetheart.”

“Alright then.” You wonder who he's talking about. All you can assume is that Scott's fixing up his hair.

“That Wolfpac trio has been causing nothing but trouble lately, brother.” Hogan says. Eric’s holding the mic for him, so he’s making as many exaggerated hand movements as he can.

Hogan was running his mouth about how bad things have been lately within the company. The mention of your name makes you turn back around.

“They’re a disgrace to the New World Order’s name. NWO Hollywood is where it’s at! You lost half of your members, so now you’re nothing but wannabe superstars. If you jabroni's think you can get the best of my group, you’ve got another thing coming. I think we should fire them, fire them all. Especially that [Name] girl. She’s been poking her nose where it shouldn’t be.”

That was the straw that broke the camels back. You’re going out there. You stomp over towards the door, throwing it open and storming out.

You could hear your name being called, yet you don't stop walking.

You’ve had enough. It’s like high school all over again. People gossiping and whining for no reason. You have a rising suspicion that Hogan’s the one at fault for everything. Before you head out there, you make sure to get a mic from a staff member.

There’s no music, no nothing. You’re just here to set the record straight. For a second, the lights of the stage almost blind you, but your eyes slowly adjust.

Standing at the center of the stage, there’s a hint of a smile on your face as you hear the crowd cheer at your appearance. You haven’t even said anything yet. You hold up your hand, making the crowd quiet down so that you can actually speak.

“Hulk Hogan, you are FOURTY-FOUR YEARS OLD. You’re waaaay too old to be acting like this. Newsflash, it’s not the 80’s anymore. It’s time for you to retire.”

The crowd is still surprised that you even had the gall to come out here.

“And you talk about me,” You say, making your way down the ramp. “I think we should start talking about you. No one wants to hear the saaame oldddd jarrgoonnn.” The moment you get to the ring, you hop on the apron, not getting inside just yet. “Eric Bischoff goes on and on about how amazing Hogan is and he literally does absolutely nothing! I’m tired of it!”

Hogan takes the mic away from Eric, adjusting his title on his shoulder. “No one’s tired of HOLLYWOOD! All my NWOites love to see me on TV. They don’t want to see a woman here, let alone one that’s not a champion.”

“What they don’t want to see is a wrestler who should’ve retired about seven years ago. And for your information, I’d be a wonderful champion.“ You finally go under the ropes to get in the ring.

“I wouldn’t desecrate the championship like you did." The spray painted 'NWO' on the title was completely noticeable. Out of line, too. "In fact, why fire me? I’m a rising star. Once I get my hands on the Women’s Championship, your daughter can finally have a real role model to look up to.”

Hogan is surprised you’d go that far, bringing his own daughter into this. “You take that back.”

“Or what?” You’re not scared of him or Bischoff, and you kept the smug look on your face, which pisses him off even further.

Eric comes in between you two. “Hey now, this is pretty unfair. It’s obvious Hogan’s winning this fight. I mean, what can a woman like you do to the Heavyweight Champion?! I think you need to take a step back, [Name].”

It’s a warning you don’t heed. Instead, you kick you boss right in his shin, the crowd cheering you on. As he’s kneeling down in pain, you take the opportunity to hook your leg over his head and the other around his leg, bringing him right into the Black Widow.

You don’t need to get the heavyweight champion first, you’ll go for his best buddy!

You pull his arm back as humanly possible. Any further and you were sure you’d dislocate it. He wanted to know what a “woman like you” could do? He’ll get the answer.

Just as you see him about to tap, Hogan saves his buddy from getting a broken arm. He pulls you off, making you wrangle in his grasp. Eric falls down to the ground, holding his aching arm in pain. Once Hogan lets you go, you turn around and slap him as hard as you can.

“What’re you gonna do, huh?! Huh?!” You didn’t have your mic, so the crowd couldn’t hear you too well. You’re still talking trash though. “Hit me! I dare you!”

The crowd begins to cheer. You didn’t see why until you saw a man was ascending from the rafters. Once his feet hit the ring, you look at him in surprise. Hogan hadn’t noticed him yet, but he’s looming right behind him.

It’s Sting, the man who’s been watching you for the past few weeks. He made you crazy and not in the good way. You repeatedly told Kevin and Scott the walls had eyes, which made them glance at each other as if you were actually insane.

You’re swear you’re not. You knew he was watching you everywhere. Whether it be backstage or in the ring, Sting’s always just….there. Even when you’re in the same room, he never says anything. Just stares and walks away.

It’s not surprising he came out here. More than likely he wanted to try and save you. You didn’t need saving. You were just about to beat the shit out of Hogan for even interrupting your submission hold.

With that black metal bat, he lifts it up and pokes it right in his back. Hogan freezes in place and the crowd is losing their mind. Rearing his bat back, Sting quickly strikes him.

Hogan falls down in pain and you back up. Even if Sting wanted to “save you” the man was definitely unpredictable. You can see Eric scrambling out of the ring in the corner of your eye.

Sting lifts Hogan back up and Death Drop’s him right back down with ease. You flinch at the sound of them colliding with the mat. He gets up and turns his head towards you.

You point a finger toward him, almost warning him that if he comes any closer, he’ll get what’s coming to him. Where the hell was Kevin and Scott?! They completely abandoned you out here. They were supposed to run out and say a few things, but there’s no sign of them.

Sting starts walking closer to you. You feel your back hit the turnbuckle and you change your finger into your palm, waving it at him. Even if you feel your hand slowly start to shake as it grips onto the ropes, you don’t back down.

You didn’t want him to notice you’re freaked out. It’s the last thing you wanted him to notice.

With every step he takes, the more you think he’s going to do something. He doesn’t lift his bat, instead letting it drag on the canvas as he comes towards you. The crowd’s on their feet in anticipation. Would you get the same fate as Hogan or would he let you go?

He drops the bat. You can barely hear the sound of it hitting the mat due to the crowd yelling.

“I’ve got a knife in my pocket!” You say. He doesn’t say anything as he still corners you. “I’ve got mace too!” Nothing deters him, he just stares at you while you’re in the corner.

You were already starting to think of an escape plan. Something that’ll catch him off guard and hopefully give you enough time to escape. Maybe even give enough time for Kevin and Scott to get out here.

Drastic times means desperate measures. You grab his face and pull him closer to kiss him. The crowd erupts in cheers and you don’t feel Sting make any moves. It’s almost like he’s never kissed anyone before, but it’s hard to function when you’re busy trying to shove your tongue in his mouth.

Just in time, Kevin and Scott come rushing down the ramp, with the latter sliding into the ring with a chair and slamming Sting in the back with it. He slumps over, shifting most of his weight onto you.

Scott comes over and pulls him off, taking one glance at you to see if you’re alright. There’s a mix of your own red lipstick and Sting’s black lipstick smudged on your lips, and there’s a few spots of white paint on your face. Yeah, you’re fine. And he’s not talking about your looks.

Hey, at least he can proceed to beat the shit out of Sting! He’s glad he has a reason to straighten him out, especially since it had to deal with you. Kevin on the outside of the ring opens his arms, telling you to come over.

You hop under the ring ropes happily and he takes it upon himself to throw you over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Off we go.” He chimed. It literally felt like you were on a skyscraper, god damn.

“Where the hell were you guys?! I’m pretty sure you missed your cue.”

“We got distracted. You were the one who stormed outta there first, so we thought you could handle it.” Kevin explains. He roughly changes the way he carries you, bringing you down into bridal style. At least you could hear him a bit better now. "Had to hang up my phone call and everything.”

Got distracted by what exactly?! They could see the television, what were they waiting for! You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

“Don’t be mad.” He says with a grin. “We’re here now, princess." For a moment, he turns around to the ring, holding up a strange symbol with his free hand.

Scott finishes the job, sliding out of the ring and tossing the chair to god knows where. Kevin finally puts you down, so you shuffle over to be in the middle of them and raise their hands in victory.

You hope this was a message for Sting to stop following you all over the place and messing with your head. But you're also hoping Eric and Hogan understand that you're not one to be fucked with.

Being here was strange. It's a new world. Certain fans knew who you were, but many others did not. All you can wish for is that this run comes with peace and a LOT of luck.

didn't even save it as a draft this time i just hoped for the best. i still hope you guys enjoy, i will try and make the next flashbacks longer, and the next one after this will prob be a timeskip because there's not much for reader to do that night, if it makes sense. im gonna eat more cereal

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 110

Chapter 110: “What I Can Do”

Their concerns are all valid. Both dads were indeed injured and sorta trapped for a little bit, but it’s far too risky to go back and check on them without knowing the status of the enemy. Poor Ray, always being the logical one and dealing out the hard truths no one wants to hear.

At least he feels bad for the outburst. Can’t really blame him for losing his cool either. Everyone’s emotions are a mess at the moment and we already know Ray doesn’t take loses well when it comes to family.

Sandy is such a sweetheart to the younger kids. (I wonder who actually made his little broccoli eyepatch though. it’s adorable.)

You would think I would be making a comment about the Seven Walls or Emma’s dilemma with these panels, but surprise, it’s actually gonna be about Ray. Listen, I dunno the exact layout of the tunnels or how close everyone is to one another right now, but Ray had to be yelling so loud if Emma was able to hear him from her spot next to Chris, a place where I assume she hasn’t moved from since they arrived underground. It’s just amusing to me since Ray is usually level headed and quieter than most of the other kids, even compared to Emma & Norman.

Precious child quite literally being that perfect ray of sunshine everyone needs and brightening the mood in these dark times.

Y’all are so lucky that call came through when it did and not a couple minutes after when Andrew & his men showed up.

So convenient that it was Lucas who was down there to answer the call too. If it was anyone from GF, they might’ve picked up on Norman’s voice.

For real though, even if someone couldn’t realize the difference between James & Norman’s voices, their way of speaking and their plans are very different. A bit surprised Lucas didn’t notice that since he happen to listen to both recordings, or maybe he did and we just never knew because.. well, very dramatic life changing reasons. Either way, I’m glad Emma figures out both WMs are different.

Someone tell me why this bastard gets plot armor and not either one of our bunker dads? Or literally any other human we love? like fucking hell, how can Andrew survive a close up explosion unlike Yuugo & Lucas and Isabella dies by being stabbed by a demon, especially when both Emma & Barbara suffer similar wounds and walk away relatively fine?? I just.. really hate this man okay.

Favorite panel/moment:

I can’t remember all the wholesome father & son moments of everyone off the top of my head, but they all probably belong to Lucas & Oliver and this one in particular is one of the best despite it being so heartbreaking.

[babyboy-cody]

Literally your Grayson smut has me GONE 😵‍💫😵‍💫 can I ask for like anything that has to do with Gray fingering reader with his arm across the back of the couch and his lips against your ear with dirty talk???? Love you!

okay you’ve officially KILLED ME 😮‍💨

It had been Kristina and yours idea to have a movie night/fort. While the twins were reluctant, seeing the excitement on their girls’ faces was enough for them to help create the giant fort in the living room. Kristina and Ethan chose their spot on the floor in front of yours and Grayson’s spot on the couch. The four of you had your own assortment of snacks so that there wasn’t the continuous interruption of the movie when one of you needed to get up and get another snack.

The layout of the separate forts were quite simple. For Ethan and Kristina’s fort, couch cushions were placed behind and on either side of them with a large blanket covering the top. The cushions were big enough for them to sit underneath without their heads touching the blanket. Yours and Grayson’s fort had tall cushions on either side with a bigger blanket covering the top, sides, as well as the back of the couch. The lights were all off and the sun had already set - the only source of light being from the huge television hung on the wall above the fireplace.

Halfway through the movie, Grayson had gotten a little bored and started getting distracted by his own thoughts. He subtly turned his head to look down at you, his thoughts suddenly being overcome by you. The soft hues of light coming from the television made you look angelic that it nearly took his breath away. With your beautifully curled eyelashes, the soft slope of your nose, your parted lips as your entire focus was on the movie playing - every single thing about you enticed him. He couldn’t stop himself from lowering his head until his lips were at your ear to huskily whisper, “You’re so pretty.”

Almost immediately, your attention was pulled away from the movie and was focused on the handsome man beside you. You felt your cheeks warm up as your breathing stuttered. “Pay attention to the movie,” you softly whispered and nudged him with your elbow. Grayson loved how shy you got when you were complimented, especially when it came from him. He was obsessed with the effect he had on you.

“How could I when you’re sitting next to me?” He whispered in your ear again, watching closely when you squirmed closer to him. “You don’t understand how hard it is not to fuck you right here.”

You muffled your gasp and looked up at him in shock at how vulgar he was being, especially with company around. He has a smug grin on his face as he licks his lips. Under the blanket splayed across both your laps, he placed his right hand on your inner thigh and slowly spreads them.

“Think you can keep quiet for me, pretty girl?” He huskily asked in your ear, lightly nipping your earlobe and relishing in the way you shivered. You frantically nodded and bit your lip as you gripped the blanket to make sure it doesn’t slide down. There was a lump in your throat and a rush of butterflies in your stomach. It dawned on you that Grayson was seriously going to finger you while Ethan and Kristina were a few feet away.

He applied the slightest pressure against the crotch of your shorts. He rubbed agonizingly slow circles, hard enough for you to feel those sparks of pleasure. Your lips part to let out a choked and soft gasp. Grayson chuckles quietly in your ear before whispering, “That feel good?” And you nod frantically while eagerly spreading your thighs more open. It was embarrassing how desperate you seemed, but every little thing Grayson did always made you desperate. “If I slide my hand down these little shorts, are you gonna be wet for me?”

“M-Maybe..” you let out a shy giggle, barely flinching when a loud explosion erupts from the movie. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

He immediately slides his large and veiny hand under the waistband of your shorts, pressing his fingers back against the crotch of your panties this time - the fabric so damp and sticking to your dripping pussy. Grayson lets out a muffled groan that he hides in your hair. Somehow, the thought of getting caught didn’t scare you anymore. It just amped up the excitement.

“You’re dripping through these fucking panties,” he huffs a small laugh of disbelief, his hot breath hitting your ear and making you shiver once again. “Take off your shorts.” To your dismay, he pulls his hand out and gets himself comfortable - legs spread, body slouched, left arm never once moving from behind your shoulders on the back of the couch. Hastily pulling off your shorts, you readjusted the blanket until it covered yours and Grayson’s lap, as well as spreading your thighs to its original position. His hand goes right back between them and nestles against your clothed cunt. He can feel the outline of your pussy lips against the thin fabric and the small button of your clit beginning to swell.

Kristina and Ethan suddenly let out boisterous laughter after a particular funny scene, briefly scaring you at the possibility if one or both of them coming out if their fort and catching you and Grayson. His long fingers start rubbing your clit a little faster, now applying harder pressure for you to feel that tingly sensation. You rest your head back on his arm, your hips barely twitching against his hand. He whispers a small “fuck” in your ear, very slowly and finally sliding his hand into your panties to gain perfect access to your bare pussy.

Your brows furrowed and bitten lips parted, your face contorting into one of relief. Grayson couldn’t believe how wet you were until he dipped his fingers down to scoop some of your slick. He can almost here the obscene wet noises of his fingers rubbing all over your click to spread your wetness. You hastily grabbed onto his wide wrist, nails digging into his tanned and hairy skin.

With his lips against your ear, in a husky and gruff voice, he mumbles, “Just lay back and let daddy do what he does best.” Almost instantly, he began rubbing frantic circles on your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure that has your eyes rolling back and pussy clenching around nothing. He’s rubbing you just right - it’s almost too much but not enough. The hood of your clit just barely pulled back until your bundle of nerves was fully exposed. The pads of Grayson’s fingers pressed down against it and it has your stomach bursting with butterflies. More slick pools out of you as you fight back your moans. With one hand around his moving wrist, the other clamps down over your mouth.

“I can’t wait to fuck you nice and hard when this movie ends,” Grayson cockily tells you, pulling away to look at your expression. His pupils have expanded from arousal. He never once let up the speed of his fingers on your inflamed cunt. He rubs much faster and harder, loving how hard it is for you not to let out your pleasure filled squeals and moans. Your hips began bucking more freely against his hand. “You want my fingers inside, pretty girl?”

“Yes yes yes yes,” you quietly babbled incoherently as your clit throbbed erratically, the tingles spreading like a wildfire throughout your lower-half. Your toes curled when Grayson roughly shoves his middle and ring fingers inside your cunt, the burning stretch making your eyes cross as you let out a pretty loud gasp that was thankfully silenced by a couple arguing on the screen. He starts fucking your pussy with his fingers, crooking them and rubbing your g-spot perfectly. The palm of his hand presses and rubs your clit. Both sensations has your mind turning to mush.

“You’re just soaking all over my fingers, aren’t you?” He softly asks in a condescending way. You can now hear the sopping wet noises of his fingers fucking your insides. You didn’t realize how loud it was.

“Yo, can you both stop making out please?” Ethan shouted from his spot in his own fort, immediately making your eyes open and thighs shutting around Grayson’s hand and wrist. “It’s loud as fuck! And gross!”

“My bad, bro,” Grayson lets out a full belly laugh and doesn’t stop the come hither motions of his fingers. He looks down at you with a grin wide enough for you to see the jewel on his canine tooth. He silently raised his brows at you as if challenging you to say something. He pulls his fingers out from your tightening cunt, just as you’re on the cusp of a strong orgasm, and he goes back to rubbing your clit at a fast pace. Your mouth falls open and your head falls back against his arm again. You’re holding onto his arm with both hands now to ground yourself. He leans in close to your face, his floppy hair brushing against your temple. “Are you gonna cum, angel?”

At the sight of your frantic nodding and heavy panting, he rubs faster and harder. And then you felt it. The wave getting higher and higher and higher. Your toes curled as you practically humped his hand like a dog in heat. When that wave finally crashed down, you had to bury your face in Grayson’s neck. He gruffly groans and shoves his middle and ring fingers back inside your pussy, feeling your walls contracting around them to keep your orgasm going. He slows his fingers to a stop before gently rubbing your overstimulated clit with his thumb. When you let out a small whimper against neck, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead and pulls his fingers out of you.

“You still wanna fuck later?” He bluntly asks you, staring at his pruned fingers coated in your cum.

You elbowed him with a quiet laugh. “How could I refuse that offer?”

He side eyes you - a gesture he always does because it makes you blush - and slowly licks his fingers into his mouth, letting out a deep moan only you can hear. Suddenly, the movie pauses and Ethan announced, “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You quickly grabbed the couch pillow and held it against your chest to hide your still fast breathing. You always shut your thighs and move them into a criss-cross position, stifling a gasp at the ache in and around your pussy. Grayson licks his lips and subtly wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist just as Ethan stands and looks at you both.

“No more making out!” He points at you both.

You and Grayson look at each other, both of you hiding a smirk before looking at Ethan. When you both nod in agreement, watching as he leaves to the bathroom, you lean over to whisper in Grayson’s ear, “Can I suck your dick?”

[x-chubby-reader]

hey i luv your content so can you plzzz do the classic mha trio (you can add more characters if you want) that get hit by a time traveling quirk get sent to the future where they are married to reader ;)

A/n - OOOOOOOOO i luv this-

Lowercase Intentional

Not Prof read

Slight rejection (Gee I wonder by who-)

Most likely some colorful language

Classic MHA Trio being sent to the future and being married to the Reader (Izuku, Bakugou, and Todoroki)

Izuku

as soon as he had been blipped into a unknown house, he was so udderly confused

maybe the villain he had been fighting had a teleportation quirk?

a sickly sweet v;oice had broken him from his thoughts

“welcome home zuki~”

it seemed to almost ring throughout the room he had been situated in

the voice seemed oddly familiar to him even though he had never heard it before

a chubby person seemed to skip towards him, and land a light greeting kiss on his freckled cheek

he had turned beet red almost automatically

“huh... you okay izuku?”

“y-yeah...”

you were thoroughly confused

you gave him a cheek kiss whenever he had left for work and when he came home from his rather strenuous job

it usually earned a giggle from him but this time it got you a reaction you were not expecting

you haven’t seen your husband that bushy since the first date the two of you had gone on

deku.exe has stopped working

now it was your turn to be the confused one

did he hit his head hard again during work?

you really hoped that your husband wasn’t losing his marbles right now

when he seemed to calm down, izuku had looked around the room in an attempt to gather what was happening in this situation

photos of the two of you standing next to each other grinning, okay kinda weird...

tacky couples memorabilia? why would that be there...

of course the last thing he noticed was a certain band of gold that seemed to the molded around his finger.

a perfect fit 

he let out an audible oh

yep everything clicked into place

somehow he had been wed to you in the future, not that he was complaining

you seemed like a great person

but at this very moment he just wanted to go home-

it was going to be fun explaining how he has no idea on who you are

Todoroki

blunt baby boy

shoto had been sent in front of a unfamiliar door 

a chain reaction of sorts had played out as soon as he turned the door’s knob

the sound of clicking metal had alerted you to your husband coming home

this resulted in you getting up to greet him in the threshold of your home

a welcoming hug in tow

you hadn’t expected his reaction to the affection though

just stiff, no wrapping arms or anything

like hugging a dead body

had all the years of slowly chipping away at his shell just suddenly disappear?

“who are you?”

um

what?

y’all have been married for over three and dating for over five

how the fuck did this motherfucker forget who you were all of a sudden?

he backed out of your soft comforting arms, trying to still grasp this situation

you kind of looked like a kicked puppy if i’m being honest

awkward silence for a bit until the one of the two of you, of course you, decided to speak up

“shoto... your my husband, how did you forget?”

he may not be one of the most expressive students at ua, but god damn the look on his face was priceless

bro you wanna say that sentence again? i think he missed it-

you held up your left hand, using your pointer finger of the opposite hand to point at the metallic band that hugged the slightly more pudgy finger

“ah...”

yeah he still didn’t understand shit

sooner or later the idea of someone using a time travel quirk popped into his head

while he was here he seems like the type to play one of those 32 question games

Bakugo

“get the fuck off of me you dumbass”

um excuse me?

you just got back from one of the worst days at your work and this is how you husband talks to you?

um no you aren't taking that bullshit right now

you wouldn’t let anyone talk to you like that, especially you husband

“couch tonight blond bitch”

“i don’t even know who you fucking are”

you emotions went from anger to just fucking tired meltdown

you were just fucking done with dealing with other peoples bullshit and now you had to deal with you husband’s asshole antics right now too?

nuh uh

just you with your arms crossed and muttering, not even looking in the direction of your significant other

tears threatening to roll down your chubby cheeks even though you had tried your hardest to keep them in

oh shit crying girl / boy / s/o what the fuck do i do?

what are you supposed to do in that situation? a person who you don’t even know having a full on breakdown?

awkward back pats

just homeboy looking lost and-

“um, sorry” *pat pat*

just you wiping your eyes and giving him an are you serious look

“... your still on the couch tonight...”

it seemed like the easiest thing to do was play along with you

“yeah yeah”

just leaving his hand on your back and guiding you into your shared house

I would like to end this with the fact that he would be walking around all confused trying to figure out the layout of the house and accidentally walk into a broom closet instead of the bathroom at least twice.

[yamag00ps]

Tsukishima: 6, You: 5

pairing: tsukishima x reader

genre: friends to lovers, work relationship

contains: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: Being friends with Tsukishima Kei was essentially just a competition of who could get the last word.

a/n: this was really fun to write!!!! now where are my bitches who love the i hate everyone but you trope <3<3<3 enjoy :-)

"This idea was yours, you know?"

A voice spoke up behind you as you looked into the updated exhibit. You couldn't quite read his tone. You looked over your shoulder to see Tsukishima Kei standing behind you, playing with the cuffs of his button-up. You turned back to the exhibit before answering.

"Ah. You see, I was starting to think I just manifested it into existence."

"Yeah, I kept hearing this nagging voice in the back of my head for the past two weeks. Funny, you sound just like it."

The offended look on your face disappeared as he walked up next to you with a small smile on his face.

A month ago, you started your new job as a new tour guide at the local history museum. Tsukishima was one of the exhibit designers. Although you were only a tour guide, you were always vocal about your opinions on the displays and layouts of the different exhibits to your co-workers, hoping to work your way up to his position. Tsukishima would overhear these conversations and initially be irritated until he realized that your critiques were actually quite useful. You began to notice your own suggestions coming to life in the exhibits. On this particularly slow day at the museum, Tsukishima surprisingly sparked a conversation with you first.

"Tsukishima Kei. Exhibit designer." He held a hand out to you with a glint in his eyes. You bit back a smile and shook his hand.

"L/N, F/N. Tour guide. Future exhibit designer." His eyebrows raised in amusement.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 1

This was only the start of your unique friendship with Tsukishima Kei.

The next six months consisted of many exchanges of ideas, lingering gazes across exhibits, late nights at the museum, and constant banter. It was always a competition of who could get the last word.

Despite your love-hate relationship, you were very supportive of one another. Tsukishima would honestly ask for your input when drafting layouts and frequently joined visitors on your tours. During the tours, he pretended to hate whenever you would call him out in the crowd for designing a certain exhibit (he would never tell you, but he appreciated it every time).

"This particular exhibit was actually designed by that tall, handsome man in the back, Mr. Tsukishima Kei! If you have any questions I'm sure he'd love to answer them." You winked at him every time.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 2

He stated that he only joined your tours because he wanted to hear what visitors had to say about his work, which was partly true. But, even more than that, he enjoyed adored watching you in action. He found your passion and enthusiasm endearing and calming, especially on stressful days. The two of you grew close as you worked—always taking breaks at the same time and staying after to leave together. Despite the teasing and the banter, both of you cherished this unique friendship dearly.

As the time passed, it seemed that your hard work and ideas did not go unnoticed, as you were finally offered an exhibit designer position! The director called you in early that morning to meet with you and formally offer you the promotion. As you walked out of her office, your hands were already fumbling to call the only person that came to mind.

"Hello?"

“Morning! You’re late.”

“My train was delayed. Wait, don’t you have the night shift?”  

"I, uh, lost my tour guide position.” Tsukishima stopped in his tracks.

“..What?”

“Yeah, kinda bummed. I was pretty good at it, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t understand your tone. He wouldn’t admit it, but he hoped you’d be at least a little more upset that you wouldn’t be working together anymore.

“Y-yeah. Wait. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Time for me to move on to better things, you know?” Ouch.

“But-”

“Hey, Kei? Exhibit designer to exhibit designer, are we supposed to be rivals now?" He could practically hear the smile on your face.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 3

At that exact moment, Tsukishima walked through the entrance of the building. Your eyes met and he hoped you didn’t notice the wave of relief washing over him.

“You’re an idiot,” he stood at the entrance, still talking to you on the phone.

“I believe the correct term is exhibit designer,” you mused.

"Oh god, no.." he groaned, slowly walking up to you with a smirk on his face. “Oh, yes,” you fired back. Unable to contain your excitement any longer, you hung up the phone and ran to him, stopping in front of him abruptly. He cocked a brow, waiting for you to explain as you held your hands behind your back.

"Sooooo.. I guess the director liked my ideas and..um, you know. Thought I’d be a fantastic fit or something," you shrugged nonchalantly, "You know, no biggie, it's whatever." Your efforts to hide the giddy smile on your face were useless. His smile mirrored yours, growing bigger and bigger with every word you spoke. You raised your eyebrows, awaiting his reaction.

He shook his head and marveled at you. I always want to see you this happy, he thought.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 4

He stayed silent, wanting to see how long it would take for you to start pouting. He lived to drag reactions out of you. But this time, the look on his face ratted him out. His eyes softened as he took you in. Ever since the day you met, he found that this happened often. The walls he built to shut people out were no match for the sound of your voice, the feel of your head on his shoulder, or the endearing smile on your face whenever your eyes met his from across the room. He was putty in your hands and you didn’t even know it.

"Well?" You poked his chest, becoming impatient. He chuckled and grabbed your hands, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he buried you into his chest.

"You loser. You're amazing,” he sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head. “I mean, I’m not surprised. But I'm really proud of you.” He paused. “But don’t scare me like that,” he mumbled. Your heart warmed at his sincerity.

"Aw, Kei, you're hugging me,” you cooed and held him tighter. You tried to move back to look up at him only for him to push your head back into his chest.

"Yeah, I just don't want to see your face when I'm saying nice things to you.”

"Tsk," you swatted at his arm but snuggled into him anyway. “You know what? I’ll take it. Thank you, Kei.” He kept an arm hooked around you and used his free hand to lightly flick the top of your head.

"Alright, get to work you two! Y/N, congrats on the promotion." The museum director passed by, giving both of you a knowing smile. You quickly stepped away from each other as you thanked her with a pink tint on your cheeks. You began to turn away from Tsukishima until he grabbed your hand.

"We're getting dinner later."

"Oh, we don't have t—"

"I want to. Now, come on. Can't have my co-exhibit designer slacking off on their first day," his tone attempted to be stern as he pulled you towards the staff room.

"You really are so sweet," you teased but happily followed anyway.

"Shut up."

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 5

Now, you were sitting across the same man you love to hate at your favorite restaurant.

"I have an idea." The dumb smirk you've grown to love appeared on Tsukishima's face. You loved when he was like this. His playful demeanor was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression. You had the two glasses of wine to thank for that.

You raised an eyebrow telling him to go on.

"I think this celebration calls for some free dessert," he leaned in to tell you this as if he was letting you in on a secret.

"What do you mean free?"

He grabbed your hand resting on the table.

"I'm going to borrow this." He started pulling off one of your rings.

"Wh—"

"Shhh, just go with it." Keeping your hand in his, he moved off of his seat and knelt down in front of you. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets as you started whisper yelling at him to get up. This worked to his advantage as your shock only made it look more real.

"Oh my god. Kei, no," you tried to say sternly as you leaned down to him, but the alcohol in your system threw you into a fit of nervous giggles. You looked around the restaurant in a panic, hiding your face in your hands until he pulled one down and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

The pure amusement on his face contrasted with the sincere look in his eyes. The blush on your face boosted his ego more than he cared to admit.

You attempted to scold him again. “Tsukishima Kei, if you don’t get up right n—“

To your dismay, your waitress came over to your table and gasped at the scene unfolding in front of her. One by one, everyone’s attention turned to the blonde-haired man down on one knee. Tsukishima dropped his head and laughed, trying to hide the blush on his face. He cursed under his breath. Fuck. Suddenly the alcohol was wearing off. What has he done?

You lifted his chin up with your free hand, forcing him to look up at you again.

“You better put on a show for them,” you challenged him, knowing he hated this kind of attention. He noted the proximity between your faces and the way you squeezed his hand as a form of reassurance. The sparkle in your eyes was all it took for him to collect himself again. The people near you began shushing everyone else around them.

Well. Now or never, he thought. This will be easy.

He took a deep breath as you looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to chicken out.

“L/N, F/N. I fell for you the moment we met.”

Oh.

Tsukishima Kei: 1, You: 5

Your heart clenched at his words, but you quickly shook the feeling. This was just for a free dessert, right?

“Oh, really now?” You thought back to that moment and snickered under your breath, only for him to hear. He squeezed your hand, silently telling you to shut up. This only made you giggle more.

“You are my light. My life only works with you in it,” he announced.

Your breath hitched. Now that shut you up.

Tsukishima Kei: 2, You: 5

“I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me."

Tsukishima Kei: 3, You: 5

“I love you. Your wit, your humor, your passion, your drive.. your kindness. All of it.”

Tsukishima Kei: 4, You: 5

“That’s enough,” you whispered and started shaking your head. You knew this was just for show, but why did hearing his words set a fire in you? Why was your heart aching?

“I fall in love with you more and more everyday. I’ll fall harder tomorrow and even harder the day after that. Please give me all of your tomorrows. Please marry me.”

Damn, he was good.

Tsukishima Kei: 5, You: 5

Your eyes began to water. Where was this coming from? Is he actually that good of an actor? Your expression was a mixture of confusion, shock, and a hint of irritation. Unable to comprehend any of your feelings, you shook your head and remembered that you had to play along for that goddamn dessert.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes!” you nodded, trying not to look too enthusiastic about this fake proposal. Everyone around you erupted into cheers, the flash of numerous phones and cameras blinding you. Tsukishima put the ring on your finger and chuckled as he stood up and pulled you in for a hug, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You laughed into his chest at the insanity of it all.

“I’m sorry if that was t—“ Whatever he was saying was cut short by the crowd around you.

“Oh come on, give her a real kiss!” “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” “Kiss her!”

You groaned and felt his laughter erupt through his chest. Pulling back to look at him, you shook your head in disbelief. He lightly held onto your waist and pulled you close, his forehead resting onto yours.

“We really don’t have to, not if it makes you uncomfortable,” he assured you.

“Pft, you’re not the only one who can put on a show,” you quipped. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the alcohol—whatever it was, you surrendered to it as you pulled him down by his collar and crashed your lips into his. You tasted the wine on his lips, savoring every second in case you would never get the opportunity again. After a few seconds, you began to pull away only for him to attach his lips onto yours again. One of his hands cupped your face while the other gripped your waist, not wanting you to pull away just yet. You matched his fervor, losing yourself in him.

The cheers in the restaurant quickly brought you back down to earth as you pulled away and hid your face in his chest again. He chuckled and rubbed the sides of your arms, soothing you. You pulled back to look at him with a small smile on your face.

“So you do know how to be nice to me,” you gushed, breaking the tension.

“I am nice to you!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but not that nice,” you teased, pulling him down to you again. Tsukishima shook his head and left a kiss on your cheek.

“You kissed me first,” he reminded you, mumbling against your cheek.

“Hm.. Guess you’ll just have to kiss me first next time,” you gave him a quick peck. Before he could pull you in again, your waitress arrived with two pieces of chocolate cake with the words Congrats! drizzled on the plate next to a heart. You pulled away from him to thank the waitress and the people around you, allowing them to go back to their meals. He pulled your chair out for you, ignoring the smug look on your face.

Before taking his seat, he leaned down and murmured against your ear, “There better be a next time,” leaving you a blushing mess.

“Next time” ended up being an hour later against the front door of your apartment. From then on, there were a lot of “next times.”

Tsukishima Kei: 6, You: 5

----------------------------------------

a/n: wait and then in the future after you two actually get married, you end up have two “wedding” anniversaries hehe and he always makes sure to celebrate both but he’ll never admit that he highkey loves celebrating the fake one more than the real one because it was such a sweet memory :p AW tsukki

[soldierswar]

Shots

Bucky x Reader

Fluff. (A liiitle bit of angst if you squint.)

(Mentions of drinking).

Synopsis: It officially becomes apparent to Bucky that he is completely immune to the effects of alcohol. But without the liquid courage that he was hoping for will he have the guts to tell you how he really feels?

“Never have I ever blacked out and woken up in an unknown location.”

Bucky took three shots.

“Umm, I’m pretty sure that you’re only supposed to take one, Barnes,” you snorted.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“What are you gonna do, arrest me?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Again, why are we playing a drinking game that you probably haven’t played since you were a college freshman?” your friend Meg slurred.

“Because Meggy, I need to see this man drunk.”

Bucky gave a mockingly shocked expression with only his eyes and a slight nostril flare.

“Well, it looks like it might take a little while,” your friend Isaac stated.

“How much have you had, man?”

Bucky thought about it and shrugged, and you giggled.

You had met Bucky a lot of times when he and Sam sometimes needed intel from the CIA. Eventually, you just became the one CIA agent that they (especially Bucky) came to nowadays. As time went by you kind of became friends, and you finally had the courage to ask him to come over for a little party that you were throwing with ten or so people. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t shocked when he showed up. He seemed like quite the introvert. You were even more shocked that he stayed as long as he did with only four of you left at 1 am.

“Wait,” you snorted taking a swig of your beer.

“I wanna know where the hell you woke up.”

Bucky groaned.

“You know how it goes. I was 16, one thing led to another and I woke up shirtless in a Brooklyn park. That’s never happened to you?”

You gave him a dumbfounded look.

“No…”

“Your loss,” he teased.

“Okay, well I think that Meg has had enough,” Isaac sighed checking the time and watching her head drift around like a bobblehead at times.

“This one needs to get home.”

He went to her side placed her arm around his shoulder and picked her up.

“I’m totally capable of walking, asshole,” she protested, but gave in 0.5 seconds later and held onto him a little tighter. You could tell that she might have been acting just a little bit drunker than she actually was just to play the damsel in distress that desperately needed him.

They still hadn’t had the guts to tell you that they had been sleeping together for at the very least a good month. And you knew he would most likely be staying the night with her. But just to watch over her.

“Well take a water bottle with you,” you ordered pointing to the row of them you had set out on the counter.

“Aye aye, captain,” she slurred again sloppily saluted you.

“Don’t worry,” Isaac reassured.

“I’ll make sure she gets home okay.”

“I’m sure you will,” you nodded.

He gave you a suspicious glare.

“Okay well I’ll see you on Monday Y/L/N,” he continued.

“And I’ll see you…whenever, Barnes.”

Bucky raised his drink to that and said goodbye as they walked out the door.

“Are they gonna be okay?” Bucky asked.

“They took a cab here. Do you honestly think that I’d let either one of them get in the drivers’ seat? After trying to compete with you?”

Bucky gave a slight shrug.

“Anyways,” he groaned like an old man while getting up.

“I’m gonna help you clean up.”

You looked around at the living room with multiple dirty dishes, and almost finished platter of nachos, and leftover pizza.

“It’s fine,” you reassured.

“I’ll just do it in the morning or something.”

But he protested by picking up some of your plastic cups. One thing you learned about Bucky, one could never stop him from doing what he wanted to do. So you gave in and followed his direction and began picking up.

As time passed while you were reorganizing the apartment from its party layout you learned that Bucky was actually pretty funny. He’d tell little stories about stupid things he’d done in past times and present times, along with asking you about yourself. But he was a little bit shy about it as if not wanting to pry. But you liked it. You really liked his company.

“Okay Barnes, tell me,” you inquired while wiping the last plate in the dish pile.

He was standing barely two feet away from you leaning with his back against the counter and sipping a glass of your strongest whisky.

“How are you still seemingly so sober? Are you just an insanely good actor? Or is your tolerance just impossibly good?”

Bucky sighed.

“I have a suspicion that…I don’t think I can feel anything from alcohol anymore.”

You shook your head.

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I said,” he retorted.

Okay fair enough.

“Since I’ve been…back I’ve noticed that no matter how much I drink nothing happens. I think tonight especially attested to that. Damn, I really should have asked Steve about that.”

His expression drifted off a little bit before catching himself and continuing.

“I think the only appeal is the burn now. And good alcohol still tastes good.”

You thought about what that would be like. You weren’t by any means a heavy drinker, but you wondered what drinking booze was like without feeling a buzz. Non-alcoholic beer never appealed to you one bit.

“That sounds like it kind of sucks. No more waking up shirtless in Central Park.”

He rolled his eyes and flashed a somewhat tortured smile.

“You’re telling me.”

His expression drifted off again with his eyes glazing over. And he seemed to look a little bit uncomfortable.

“Well you’re pretty fun to be around regardless,” you said.

He smiled.

“I���m glad you think so. I’m not always…great at these sorts of things.”

He took another huge gulp finishing what was left in his glass. It must just be a nervous force of habit.

“I, um…I uh…” he stuttered.

“I probably could have used a bit of liquid courage.”

Why did he seem so shy? And damn why did that shyness make your heart skip a few beats?

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes staring back at you sincerely. And for some reason, your next inclination was to sit on the counter leaving only a few inches of gap between the two of you.

“What for?”

He cleared his throat looking down for a few seconds before meeting your gaze again.

“It’s stupid,” he said shaking his head.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you said in a soft surprised tone.

“You may make some pretty stupid impulsive decisions sometimes, but I’ve known you to never say anything stupid.”

All he did was stare into your eyes making your heart flutter and beat so hard in your chest that you almost couldn’t stand it. He was not making the whole liking him without having the courage to tell him thing very easy.

He smiled looking down at the floor again.

“I uh…” he took a deep breath. You were pretty sure that he wished that he could take a real drink.

“I think that there’s something you should know.”

You were generally really good at reading people. It was pretty much your job to do so, but there was no way that you were reading him correctly at this moment.

He then reached his hand forward and pulled a stray strand of hair back.

“You want me to know that my hair’s a mess?”

He smiled and exhaled through his nose. But he didn’t move his hand. With incredibly wide pupils he stared into yours, and you kept your nervous gaze locked on him. Was this really happening?

And before you knew it he was kissing you. And you kissed him. You couldn’t stop kissing him. The last thing you ever wanted to do was stop kissing him even if it meant never coming back for air. But eventually, he pulled away to where his lips were not two inches away from yours and gave you that devilishly charismatic smile.

“No, that’s not what I wanted to say.”

You giggled and pulled his face back to yours again and let him kiss you deeper as you held his face in one hand brushing his cheek with your thumb. There was no moment in your life that ever felt as perfect as this moment felt. And you hoped that he felt even half as much the same.

For the rest of the night, you spent time on your couch continuing to talk, and laugh, and just overall get to know each other. And of course, he or you would initiate a break by kissing some more. And next thing you knew the sun was coming up and it eventually was a bright sunny day.

You didn’t even realize when you had fallen asleep. The last thing you remembered was you sitting on his lap and talking about something that you couldn’t remember. All you knew was that you were comfortable with your head resting on his chest hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft rise and fall of his chest. He too was asleep with his chin resting on the top of your head. You hoped that he wasn’t too uncomfortable by seemingly not wanting to wake you up. But he didn’t really seem to be. He was still as a statue.

You decided that it was time to move and scooted onto the couch in turn waking him up.

“Morning,” you whispered.

“I hope you’re not too hungover.”

Bucky chuckled sleepily and then checked the time on his watch. You both couldn’t believe that it was 9 am.

“I should get going,” he said and let out another old man’s groan while getting up and you followed him to the door.

“I uhh…I think it might go without saying that I was hoping to be able to see you again.”

You smiled because obviously, you were thinking the same thing.

“I mean…Outside of work…Like to hang out?”

You giggled. You didn’t expect him to continue to be shy and bashful the way that he was.

“Just give me a time and a place.”

His face lit up and he planted one more kiss on your lips causing you to blush.

“So I’ll see you?”

You gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Sooner than later,” you replied.

He nodded.

And as he walked down the hall you couldn’t help yourself but to yell out,

“Are you sure you’re sober enough?”

And of course, you smiled for at least ten minutes after he yelled at you to fuck off.

This man was a keeper.

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day 21

Prompt: Yandere/Spanking w/ Inoichi

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Yandere, Mutual Pining, Implied Stalking, Mild Dubcon, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Aftercare || Characters: Inoichi Yamanka, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

this fic contains yandere and mild dubcon themes, if that makes you uncomfortable please do not read!

With a content sigh, you unlocked the front door to your apartment, a slight fuzziness blurring your vision and limbs thanks to the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your keys were discarded into the cutesy trinket tray, your shoes kicked off into the ever-growing pile nearby. The date was an okay one, nothing extremely exciting but, hey, he was cute and it was a fun time. It may have sounded obnoxious when said out loud, but no men your age interested you. Not like you didn't give a plethora of them chances, and you still made friends with most of them. You just never seemed to form that romantic attachment you craved so desperately. What that said about your mental health wasn't totally lost on you, but not like you could (or wanted) to do a whole lot about it.

The sweater covering your shoulders was thrown onto a chair, your constricting belt quickly following as you made your way to your bedroom. At first, you didn't notice it, didn't notice anything at all. You simply continued walking on past the kitchen and living room, into your bedroom where you stripped your shirt and pants off. Trudging back out to the bathroom in your underwear and bra, your brows furrowed. You didn't remember turning one of the lights on… Chalking it up to the kitchen stove light you always left on, you continued your mission of brushing your teeth and face. When you came back out of the bathroom, you headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, freezing when you saw a figure sitting in one of your chairs, contently reading a book.

"S-Sir?!" the big kitchen light was on, illuminating the stoic face of one of Konoha's strongest shinobi.

The older blond man placed his book down, seeming annoyed it took you this long to notice him before he started with a huff, "I pay all my employees well, even ones as low down on the ladder as you. One would think that allows for better locks. And it's about time you arrived home, considering you have work tomorrow, no?"

Confusion was about the only emotion you could feel as your boss all but scolded you, besides the dull horny you always felt when it came to the man in front of you, though you suppressed that part for now, "Better wha- What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

Inoichi stood slowly, towering over you and making you regret the harsh tone you used, "Because it seems you forgot whom you belong to, dearest rosebud."

Besides the fact that his reply gave you more questions than answers, you silently gasped at the pet name he used. It was the same pet name your secret admirer had been using for you. You never saw the constant flower bouquets, food deliveries, or expensive gifts as harmful. They were, if anything, an ego boost to you thus far. All delivered to you with the sweetest notes, describing how ethereal you were, and always addressing you as rosebud, albeit also sounding a bit possessive. Additionally, in the six months, you had been receiving gifts, you hadn't been on any dates, instead choosing to focus on your new career supporting the Torture and Interrogation Department. A career that found you moving up the ladder fast, though you were still just doing menial tasks. Briefly, you wondered how much Inoichi had to do with those promotions, but he took a step towards you, cupping your face in his hand, and tore you from your thoughts.

"I think it's about time you come home. To your true home, don't you?"

Your heart thumped loudly in your throat and you nodded against your better judgment, "I do."

The smile you were met with sent a warm tingle through your body, and you returned a smile of your own. Inoichi nodded and picked his book up from the table, his other hand patting the top of your head. The silent praise had your chest swelling with pride for some reason unknown to you. It should have alarmed you how easily you accepted his offer, though you rationalized that you didn't have much choice, fearing that if you rejected him the trained ninja would take you anyways. Better to go willingly than be taken by force, right? Well, that and you were still a bit tipsy.

Before long, you were tucked snugly into the side of the blond man, his arm wrapped protectively around you. The route to his home was longer than it should have been, you suspected he was purposely avoiding the main streets. Being a high ranking shinobi taking a girl home during the early hours of the morning would raise questions. Especially a girl that worked under him. His warm touch was protecting you from the cold and the smell of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. It had you snuggling into his side more, an act which made him smile, he knew his rosebud wouldn't deny him. This definitely proved you deserved a present larger than anything he gifted you previously.

The Yamanaka clan complex was expansive and the main house was nothing to sneeze at either, easily dwarfing your apartment several times over. He led you inside, showing you around and you took notice of how similar his place was to yours. Not in the layout or big furniture pieces, but he had the same type of napkins, your favorite drinks, even your shampoo in his bathroom which you assumed was his daughter's. It didn't dawn on you until he took you on a tour of his room just how deep you were in. In his room, you found clothing that was unmistakably yours, items that had gone missing months ago and some just last week. They ranged from shirts and leggings to underwear and even a pillowcase. You tried not to take note of how some pieces were stained with white spots. Uneasiness began to grow in your gut as you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into when your phone buzzed with a notification. You pulled it out, only to have Inoichi take it from you and punch in your passcode.

His face soured, "You really think that lowlife deserves a second date? Before you give me even <em>one</em>? Disgusting."

Your date from earlier must have texted back after you replied you wanted to see him again. He was about to slide your phone onto the dresser when it began to ring. If the scowl on his face told you anything, it was, unfortunately, your date calling. The guy did say he preferred talking over text and at the time, you didn't mind, but now, it was really rather annoying.

"Answer it. Reject him. Reject him like you know you want to," the direction was clear and stern, leaving no room for discussion as he thrust the phone in your direction.

Nervously, you took the device from him and answered the call. Rejecting someone, in general, was an anxiety-inducing task, but to have an overbearing admirer glare you down while doing so was all the more nerve-wracking. Your voice wavered slightly as you talked and although Inoichi still frowned, his hands played through your hair, skimming the ends of your locks. The guy on the other end was rightfully confused while you explained you never wanted to see him again because just an hour ago you texted you were looking forward to it. Part of you hoped he would pick up on the odd behavior and come after you, but the realistic part of your brain told you the boy was too daft and a measly coward. The opposite of the man in front of you.

Once the call was complete the smile returned to the blonde's face, "Good flower! I knew you wanted to be with me. But-," his face fell again, a look of complete seriousness that made you swallow hard, "I can't forgive your little indiscretion. Not yet. It seems you need a punishment to truly remind you of whom you belong to, rosebud."

Your face grew cold at the implications, yet still, you allowed Inoichi to lead you towards the bed. He sat on the edge and patted his expansive thighs, hardened with all the training he did. You should be refusing, should be running far, far away from this situation. But, it was too tempting. How many times does the man you fantasize about return your affections so vigorously? Additionally, a spanking from him sounded like time well spent and you did deserve it for trying to date someone else when you were meant for him. You laid yourself across his legs, the pants you haphazardly put on before leaving being tugged down to your knees. His hands caressed your backside, massaging your ass cheeks before giving a playful swat to them.

"Count them. If you lose count we start over. We'll stop when I think you've learned your lesson. Got it?"

You nodded before squeaking out a, "Yes, daddy."

The name seemed to both please and shock the man, as his hand stalled in mid-air before he grinned. Then, he brought his hand down to your cheek, prompting you to call out the number. A second smack was quick to follow onto the other cheek along with a third, his hands only stalling to hear you mutter out the number. Thankfully, he was merciful in his technique, alternating cheeks and making sure to smack the untouched parts of your backside. A couple even landed harshly on your folds, the wetness gathering there only intensifying the pleasure-pain you felt. After spank thirty, it was hard to find an area that wasn't welting up, and so he went over the areas he already smacked. It made it all the more sensitive as your legs jerked slightly and hands clutched at the comforter beneath you. Your ass was raw and bleeding slightly in a few places, yet still, his hands struck you, enjoying each conflicted whine that left your mouth.

At fifty, you prayed he would be finished, but he kept on spanking, making sure to land more smacks over your pussy. He'd make comments that were a mix of degrading praise about how wet you were for him and how well he was going to fuck you. The promise of being railed by the ever-growing hard-on beneath you was the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop. You were determined to be a good girl for your daddy, despite the burning pain you felt on your rear. Somewhere in the midst of the sixties, you actually came on his hand after he smacked your pussy again, earning rumbling praise from the man above you. Finally, at seventy-five, he stopped, most likely because his hands were sore at this point too. Your reprieve was capitalized by him affectionately rubbing and massaging your abused cheeks as if it pained him to hurt you. Without restraint, you whined into his chest as he held you, hips grinding down against his.

He laughed softly and kissed along your jaw, "Have you learned your lesson? Are you ready to accept me as your one and only?"

"Yes, I've learned my lesson, daddy. You're the only one I want in my life. Now and always, please never leave me," you held onto his shirt as you locked gazes with him, your best puppy dog eyes on display.

They worked their intended magic, as you could see his expression soften almost immediately, "Good little blossom. I'll never leave your side and you'll never leave mine. Especially not after we become one, petal."

The notion was intoxicating, being loved by someone so much they'd do anything for you. But right now, the love you needed was physical and with the goal dangling right above your head, you were desperate to reach it. Your hands slid under his shirt and peeled it off, your own being removed soon after. Within a flash, you both were naked and kissing each other feverishly. Inoichi laid back on the bed's pillows, admiring the sight of you perched atop him. You didn't mind being on top, taking the advantage to push his cock into you quickly. As you sank down on him, his hands stroked up and down your thighs, giving a testing thrust up into you. You sat on his cock as much as your body would allow and without hesitation, began to bounce yourself on him. He sighed in pleasure as you wrapped around him so perfectly, telling you he expected nothing less from his perfect rosebud. The praise drove you wild, finally getting the recognition you deserved, albeit in the form of compliments on your sex technique.

When your thigh muscles began to clam up from overuse he laid your body down on top of him. His thick arms wrapped around your torso and he wasted little time in thrusting up into you. Hands caressed your shoulders and he locked gazes with you, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. In the midst of your passionate throes, Inoichi couldn't help but get lost in your otherworldly beauty, only the noises you made and the movement of his hips kept him grounded. It felt like your pussy was made for him, wrapping around him so perfect and driving him insane, he had trouble restraining himself from fucking into you harder. His lips met yours fiercely, kissing and holding onto you like you might disappear at any time. You put a hand on his cheek as you kissed him back and snaked a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. Though, your hand was soon removed, being replaced by one of Inoichi's, who explained he was determined to be the one who pleased you. As if you'd have any qualms about that.

His surprisingly smooth fingertips rubbed at your clit and with the constant feeling of his cock pounding against your cervix, you quickly came a second time. Yet still, his fingers kept moving, only stopping for a brief moment to let you ride out your high. The look on his face let you know he was close to orgasm himself, the blush covering his cheeks made your own heat up. Seeing the older blond man so lost in ecstasy, lost in your body, was absolutely pussy clenching. He groaned and held onto you tighter, his face burying into your neck as he moaned your name. The number of times you imagined him calling out your name in pleasure had absolutely nothing on the real thing. You whined into his chest and dug your nails into his shoulder, relishing in the way his cock pounded into your hole, hitting the same spot over and over. Every little thing was mind-blowing when added together and when you heard Inoichi announce he was cumming inside of you, you easily spiraled into another orgasm of your own. You clenched around his twitching cock, milking him for all he was giving you.

After you coaxed a second orgasm from Inoichi you let him pull out, both panting hard and nearly passed out. Yet somehow, he managed to get you into the bathtub and cleaned you up, personally washing you as he whispered constant praises in your ear. You nearly fell asleep like that, if it wouldn't have been for the cold surrounding you once the water was drained. Inoichi sat you down in front of the vanity after he dried your body and affectionately brushed your hair while blow-drying it. Again, the attention and repetitive actions almost put you to sleep, your daddy coaxing you awake with kisses to your jaw. He instructed you to pick out something to wear in the closet while he waited for you in the bed. You assumed he meant to pick something of his to wear for the night, but once you entered the expansive walk-in closet, it all became a bit too clear. The wall opposite of what you assumed was Inoichi's was filled with clothes that fit your exact aesthetic. A few flips through and it confirmed, they were all in your size, some items were exact copies of things you had in your closet, others literal things that you had gone missing. The sight should have disgusted you, creeped you out, something. But looking at the wall of clothes and shoes all you could think of was how thoughtful it was of him to so thoroughly prepare for you moving in.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[thiswasinevitableid]

If you are still taking meet ugly prompts, sternclay 22 nsfw???

Here you go!

22: you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship.

Note: I interpreted "first date" loosely. Slight content warning for mentions of blackmail, including blackmailing someone into a relationship.

It’s hard to tell where the sting of gin on his tongue ends and the sharpness of the pines through the window begins. The combination would invigorate him were it not for the conversation playing out at the other end of the short bar.

“...Last time, I’m not leaving.” The bartender, a mountain of a man who Joseph would love to climb, has been dealing with a persistent suitor for the better part of an hour. They’re the only people in the place; ski season is far behind them and summer isn’t here yet.

“C’mon, you’ve got no reason to hang around.”

“Yeah, actually, I do.” The bartender finishes cleaning glasses, turns to put them up.

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me! I’m not through with you, oughta drag you outta here by your hair you cheap, dull-”

The next word is an unkind name for men who, like Joseph, prefer men in their beds. The bartender doesn’t respond, though his hands tighten around the glasses. Damn it, the world did not go for a second war just for him to let everyday evil slide by.

“That’s enough.” Joseph stands, moving to where the other patron wobbles on his stool, “him being uninterested doesn’t give you the right to abuse him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy.”

“I know that if you don’t leave, I’ll escort you out.”

The man throws up his hands, spits at Joseph’s feet before stumbling and stomping for the door, “Three years, Barclay, you’re throwing away three years in one night, and you’re gonna regret it. I’ll make sure you do!”

“Don’t think you will.” Barclay mumbles as the door slams. He’s twisting his dishrag to the point it’s ripping.

“Three years? Good lord, I thought he was just a run-of-the-mill drunk.”

“Nope. If you can call him tracking me down every few months a relationship.”

“I’m sorry.” Joseph pulls out his handkerchief, kneeling to clean up the spit, “still, I apologize for getting in the middle of a, um, lovers quarrel.”

“Please don’t, I’m glad you stepped in. Don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t.” His brown eyes study Joseph more closely, “have I seen you here before?”

“Through there.” He indicates the pass-through to the kitchen, “I come here as often as I can since the food can’t be beat.”

“Thanks.” Barclay smiles, starts wiping the counter, “yeah, Dani usually tends bar after the kitchen closes but her wife is down with the flu. Only seemed fair to let her take time to look after her.”

A big heart to go with a big frame? Joseph’s in big trouble.

“You, uh, you up here for the lakes or…” He’s now directly across from Joseph, sliding a fresh gin and tonic in front of him.

“I’m a private detective, a one man operation as of 1949; Kepler’s the optimal spot for me, since it’s between the mountain towns and the eastern edge of the city. That’s a lot of people who might need help. Not to mention lots of the residents closer to the lakes are wealthy, the kind where they’re always looking for someone to trail a straying spouse or track down the pearls their no-good layabout son sold for dope.” He lets a little bit of scorn enter his voice in hopes of letting Barclay know he doesn’t always agree with his clients, but that a man has to make a living.

Barclay rolls his shoulders, then leans forward, “any fun cases so far?”

Joseph pulls off his jacket as he thinks; if Barclay’s really interested, they might be here awhile.

---------------------------------------------------

He’s an early riser, so the banging on the door to his house (and office) interrupts his breakfast and not his rest. Joseph opens it and then fights to keep it that way.

“Detective Hayes. This is a surprise.” He smiles.

“I’m not here to catch up, Stern. I’m here so you can answer one, simple question: where were you between eleven-thirty and midnight last night?”

“In the dining room at Amnesty Lodge, talking with the bartender. If you need to verify that, just go to the Lodge and ask for Barclay.”

Hayes glowers in a way he recognizes as, “this won’t be an easy case like I assumed” and turns without a word. Two officers follow him. The third, Dewey, hesitates. He’d always been a pal. Joseph shoots him a confused look.

“Guy got shot in the woods near the Lodge last night. His only known contact in town was the bartender, and everyone else we questioned said the two had been arguing for a few days. Hayes thought the cook was a shoo-in to book but, well, his alibi aligns with what you said. Plus, some ranger Owens talked to said he saw Barclay talking to someone in the dining room at the time of the murder. Guess he was walking by the window on his way to-”

“Dewey! Get the hell over here!”

As his informant scurries up the hill to join the others, Joseph steps back inside to finish his toast. He only gets through one piece before the phone rings, summoning him to the managers office at Amnesty Lodge.

Madeline “Mama” Cobb sits behind her desk, whittling with the kind of force that suggests she’s doing this in place of putting her knife to another use.

“Barclay tells me you’re a detective.”

“That’s right, Miss. Cobb.”

“Great. I’m hirin’ you to find out who the hell killed his useless ex and is tryin to frame him for it.”

He sits down, intrigued, “I thought the police were handling the investigation.”

“I ain’t inclined to trust ‘em. Barclay can’t think of someone who’d set him up, and the police don’t think he was. Yet. But I happen to know there were scraps of a shirt Barclay owns on the trees nearby and that the fella who died had this on him.”

She holds a crumpled paper out. He unfolds it, reads, “Come to the old mill at a quarter until midnight. B.” He looks up, “meant to stand for Barclay, one would assume?”

“Yep. Whoever wrote that did a decent job forgin it.”

“How can you be sure it’s fake?”

“Because I got plenty of documents where Barclay describes a time. He just uses numbers, not words like ‘quarter until.”

“Did you suspect a set-up before you lifted this from the body so the cops wouldn’t find it?” Joseph tucks the note into his inside pocket.

“Course I did. You’re new in town, but there ain’t a person here who’d say Barclay is anythin but gentle. He ain’t about to shoot someone in cold blood, even that fucker.” She sighs, takes off her hat and runs a hand through greying hair, “that boy is as good as a brother to me. I know he’s been through some rough shit. He don’t deserve to get caught up in some goddamn murder scheme. So name your price, Mr. Stern; so long as it keeps him outta trouble, I’ll pay it.”

---------------------------------------------

He’s elbow-deep in Barclay’s dresser when the cook returns from his shift; he gave Joseph permission to search his room for signs of whoever took his shirt, but still, the other man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.

“I’m sorry, but I have to be thorough. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”

“S’fine.” Barclay slumps down on the bed. After a moment he murmurs, “I know Mama hired you, but is there anyway I can convince you to quit? She, the Lodge doesn’t have much cash to spare this time of year. I don’t want anyone going without on my account and, and maybe this will all blow over if I just lie low, y’know?”

“It might. But until I think that’s the outcome, I’m inclined to agree with Miss. Cobb that we should work to keep you clear of this. And” he watches Barclay stand, moving to the window so he won’t have to see Joseph rifling through his life, “I promise that if it comes down to getting paid or bankrupting the Lodge, I’ll stop taking my fee. This is a good place and, um, it clearly means a lot to you. That makes it worth some belt-tightening on my end.”

“Thanks.” Barclay stares into the woods, then looks over his shoulder, “Joseph, I-”

It’s only because the mirror is above the dresser that he sees the black barrel peek from the trees. With no time to yell, he dives forward, pulling Barclay to the floor as the first bullet makes shards of the window.

“What the fuck?!” Barclay covers his head as another shot flies over them

“I think we just confirmed Miss. Cobb’s theory!” He pops up, fires once, and drops back down. Whoever’s in the trees isn’t expecting someone armed, so in place of another bullet they get breaking branches.

Joseph gives chase, leaping out the window and sprinting into the trees. Were they in downtown L.A, hell, even if he was still in Chicago, he’d have a better chance of staying on his target. But there’s no paths, no short-cuts, and every tree looks the same at this speed, cloaking the shape in the distance. Worst of all, he discovers that instead of dead-ending at a brick wall, he dead ends at a rockface.

Oh, and his hand is bleeding. He must have cut himself jumping out the window.

It looks like his investigation just took on a bodyguard element, and his wish to spend more time with Barclay could end with them both looking like swiss cheese.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“You could talk to Duck.” Barclay finishes bandaging the slash on the back of Joseph’s left hand, “he works in the state park near here and knows a ton about the layout of the woods. There, not too tight?” He sits back on his heels as Joseph tests the tightness of the bandage.

“It’s great, big guy. Um, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“I don’t mind it” he winks, “pretty boy.”

His visit with Duck the next day, while informative, doesn’t give him much insight into how their assailant disappeared, especially when Duck points out that the rock face he ran across is over a mile long and hard to climb without equipment or a death wish. At least the ranger outfits him with a map with written-in details; most are about trails that are likely to be muddy (and thus hold prints) or spots where a person might be able to hide. And some hike recommendations, just because.

He tries not to think about taking Barclay on the one to a secluded lake and fucking him under the stars.

His schedule alternates between sitting in his office taking and making calls, shadowing Barclay when he’s out on errands or otherwise vulnerable (he’s spent more than a few nights on the floor of his room, that velvety baritone talking to him until they both fall asleep), and scouring the woods for clues.

A jay heckles a squirrel, which surrenders it’s pinecone and scrambles along the rocks. He’s wishing he could be so nimble when it climbs up and then...disappears. Following it, he discovers what he dismissed as endless rock is an optical illusion; the rocks above and behind align with the ones in front and below to make it seem as if it’s a flat face. But when he climbs over the bottom rock, he finds a narrow slot canyon. One big enough for a human.

Fifteen minutes of granite scratching his back later, he’s at the other side of the rocks. Smoke curls up his nose, and he trails the scent to a cabin which, according to Duck, is on a strange pocket of private property, just up a frontage road. Stranger still is the sign out front.

I.C All

Tarot, Palm Reading, and Other Psychic Services.

He knocks as wind chimes sing lazily around him.

“Come in!”

The first room is divided by a curtain, the half he’s in a rather eclectic waiting room. The dining room and kitchen are probably on the other side of the pink and yellow cloth.

Waiting for him in the next room is a man with a distinctly beatnik air about him, from his red glasses down to his brightly colored shawl and shoulder length hair. Laid out before him is a tarot deck, crystal ball, and several black candles. But that’s not what concerns Joseph.

“Before I sit down, can you ask your friend hiding in the bureau to come out?”

“Fuck” the beaura hisses, “uh, I mean, uh, there ain’t, uh, fuck-”

“It’s alright dearest, I suspect we may all benefit from this.” He gestures for Joseph to sit, “Apologies, but my hope was you were either a client I could turn away or one in search of a brief reading that I could perform before returning to more...pleasurable activities.” He grins as none other than Duck Newton steps from the creaky wooden bureau, looking like he’s been wrestling a very amorous tiger.

“Afternoon, Joe.” Duck sits on the nearby couch, “didn’t take you for the fortune tellin’ type.”

“I’m more interested in whether Mr…”

“Cold, but my friends call me Indrid.”

“Whether Indrid has noticed anyone coming and going on his property without permission?”

“I can’t say that I have, though it’s hard to do so; the walkway is guarded by Beacon, our dog, and everything but the walk up to the cabin is fenced off or, well, a massive wall of rock.”

“...Come with me.”

Soon, Duck is studying the slot canyon while Indrid worries his lower lip.

“I had no idea this was here.”

“No one did. It ain’t on any of the maps, and I never heard of anyone findin it on accident.” Duck pulls back, popping his hat on as he turns to Joseph, “this got somethin to do with Barclay?”

“I think whoever shot at us used this to get away. For all we know, the person who killed Mr. Douglas did the same.”

“To think, I encouraged Barclay to come here even more often once he told me his predicament; I thought no one could approach us without me seeing them coming. No, no this will not do at all” he shakes his head, “he needs to go see her.”

“You know he won’t, sugar.”

“He must. It’s the safest place for him. And the last anyone will look.”

Joseph looks between them, but before he can ask Indrid simply says, “You should ask Barclay about the Greenbank House. That story isn’t ours to tell.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Home sweet home.” Barclay grumbles as he and Joseph step out of the car and into the shadow of a mansion in the most exclusive neighborhood in Lakeshore. It took all of his friends telling him he should go--and Joseph assuring him it’s location meant it wouldn’t look like he was trying to run away from the scene of the murder--for the cook to agree to a stay at his family home.

“What are you afraid of?” Joseph keeps his tone gentle as they climb the front steps. His friend had simply said he had unhappy memories of the house and would rather live in a mausoleum then stay there.

“It’s more dread. You’ll see when we get inside.” He knocks on the front door. It’s opened by the least congruous face imaginable; a man with greying hair and a groundskeepers clothes. When he sees Barclay, a smile bursts across his face.

“Barclay! How are you kiddo?”

“I’m...I’m okay. It’s good to see you Thacker.” He offers a genuine smile as he opens his arms and gathers the older man into a hug. When they separate, Joseph offers his hand and introduces himself. Having an extra guest delights Thacker, and he ushers them in with a promise that he’ll have rooms ready to go in a jiff.

“How’s Maddie doin’?”

“She’s good, and she’ll still slug your arm for that nickname.”

“Good old Maddie.” Thackers cheer falters, “do you wanna go see your ma? If I didn’t know you were comin, gonna guess she didn’t neither.”

“Yeah. Yeah I should go see her. Joseph, you don’t, uh, you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s only polite to meet my hostess.”

Barclay leads him up a flight of stairs, then down a hallway where dust substitutes for walllpaper. Waiting for them in a red and orange toned bedroom is a woman with greying, black hair and a face not unlike Barclay’s.

“Dear heart” she rises from her armchair, drawing her son to her, “you came back.”

“Just to visit, Ma. Uh, this, this is Joseph. He’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too.”

She studies him with a critical eye; Joseph thought Hayes had a judgemental gaze, but she could beat him any day.

“Hmm. The more the merrier, as she always said. How long will you stay?”

“A few weeks.”

She nods, regards the photo of another woman above the mantelpiece as if seeking council, “You’re not here for pleasure.”

“No.” Barclay rubs his arm, “I...I got into some trouble. Andrew Douglas was shot the night I broke things off with him. The cops are leaving me alone for now but someone else wants me dead.”

The woman’s face suggests she both recognizes and despises that name, “We will keep you safe.”

With that, she sits once more and picks up her book. Barclay hesitates, then bends to kiss her forehead before pulling Joseph from the room.

--------------------------------------------------

“How long ago did your mother die?” Joseph kicks his legs up onto the ottoman. Barclay alluded to her passing previously, but never gave details.

“When I was eighteen. Car accident. She went off the Kepler bridge. They, uh, they never found her, and just found part of the wreck.”

He intends to leave it there; they’re on the back porch overlooking the garden (“Thackers pride and joy”), early summer dusk on their skin and their arms occasionally brushing from the edges of their chairs. No need to kill the mood further. He just wanted some kind of context for the house and the widow within it.

“Ma never recovered. She loved mom so much that losing her was like losing a lung; she can get through her days, even enjoy them, but it will always be hard. She tried to keep mom around however she could; the whole goddamn house is the same as it was the day she died, even my room. She wanted me to stay too, but Mama offered me the job and I just...I couldn’t live in a haunted house anymore.”

Joseph tips his hand to the right, extending his fingers into the space between them. Barclay takes it and holds tight.

“I’m so sorry, Barclay. You had every right to leave, to make your own life.”

“I know.” He runs his thumb across Joseph’s knuckles, “okay, pretty boy, my turn for a tough question; why’d you really leave the police force.”

It’s not that tough a question, not when he knows the man he’s confiding in won’t go running to Hayes, “I joined the force because I wanted to solve mysteries and help people. But it turned out there was a lot less seeking justice and a lot more chasing off drunks who just needed a place to sleep off benches and harassing certain neighborhoods. Then I worked out that the chief was taking bribes from all kinds of places and was naive enough to think someone might listen to me and help me when I told them. Instead they threw me off the force. In hindsight, it could have been worse; they could have killed me and covered it up.”

“Jesus.” Barclay polishes off his drink, contemplates the ice, “glad they didn’t. Both because, y’know, world is better with you alive, but, uh, also because if they had we’d never have met.”

Joseph meets his eyes, smiling in a way that makes the other man blush, “that would’ve been a damn shame.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is turning into one of the stranger cases he’s worked, in good ways and bad. The good is that his work days, when he’s not on the phone or digging through his notes, are spent with Barclay. His friend insists on cooking, has even brought him lunch at his desk, and usually the two of them have dinner with Thacker in the garden. They read or play chess in the study, take walks through the labyrinthine grounds, and even swim in the open air pool. Barclay in his swim trunks is a fine sight indeed. Joseph wonders if he ever brought boyfriends here, ever kissed them in the blue water or let them have their way with him in some hidden patch of lawn.

But it’s not all roses and revelry. The more he roots around in Andrew Douglas’s past, and in Barclay’s, the more questions he has. Why did Andrew come and go? What happened to large portions of Raquel and Sylvia (Barclay’s parents) fortune? And who wants to kill someone with no criminal record, no known enemies, and no heirs? If it’s the same person who murdered Andrew, killing Barclay would remove their fall-guy, so that makes no sense as a move.

His best lead comes when he learns Barclay’s family and Andrew Douglas lived in San Francisco at the same time. A friend in the city agrees to do some sniffing around there for any information that might point towards their killer. Two days later, he calls back and says he’s sending Joseph a “fucking brick” of evidence in the mail.

It’s been several days and he’s still waiting. He dozed off in his room after dinner, intending to cat nap, but it seems he’s overshot; it’s after ten. At least the mail must have come by now.

“Barclay? Did anything come--you have five goddamn seconds to explain yourself.”

His friend stammers from his seat on the bed, surrounded by papers, photo’s, newsprint, and a manila envelope with Joseph’s name on it.

“I, uh, I, it isn’t-”

“This is all evidence collected for the purpose of protecting you, so if you have something you’re afraid of me finding you’d better start talking now.” He snaps, looming over the other man from the edge of the bed.

Wordlessly, Barclay hands him a piece of newspaper. It details a kidnapping, one that ends--happily--with the victim being returned to their family. Four names are mentioned, but none of the perpetrators are the man in front of him.

“I was sixteen. A stupid kid. I had this perfect life and I got a little stir crazy, a little bored, and fell in with some other rich kids who felt the same. It started out harmless. Then James, the guy in charge, decided we should dream bigger. I was so, so fucking in love with him, I didn’t try to stop him. Not right away, anyway. I...I was their look-out for that kidnapping. But I couldn’t let them keep it up.”

“You struck a deal.”

Barclay nods, “Best part is, I managed to do it without either of my parents getting wise. We moved here soon after. I thought I could put it behind me.”

Joseph takes a closer look at the paper. The byline for the article is one A. Douglas.

“He blackmailed you.”

“Not at first. He, he” Barclay takes a shaky breath, “he went to mom first. Asked her how much she’d pay to keep my name out of the papers. James had told him about me and he was going to spread the story. That’s why she was on that fucking bridge in the middle of a fucking storm; she was meeting him.”

“Oh, Barclay.” Evidence crumples under his knees as he sits to comfort his friend.

“Then he came to me; now not only was I paying to keep the story quiet, I was paying to keep him from telling Ma why Mom died.”

“She died because of a blackmailer, wet cement, and a weak guard rail. Not because of you.”

Barclay looks at him, eyes coffee cups of sorrow, and simply shakes his head. Then he crumples forward and Joseph catches him, holds him tight while he finishes his story through his tears.

He paid off Andrew for three years. Ned Chicane, owner of the Kepler Museum of Curiosities, helped him with the family accounts so Raquel wouldn’t notice anything suspicious. Whenever Andrew came around, he demanded Barclay act as his “boyfriend” for the duration of the visit.

“Everyone must think I have terrible taste in men.”

Once they establish that, as far as Barclay is aware, only Ned knows about the blackmail, Joseph cups his face and says, as firmly as gentleness allows, “From now on, I need you to be truthful with me. You said you didn’t want me putting the pieces together because you were ashamed, but all I want is to help you. I can’t do that if there are big things you’re hiding from me. Understand?”

Barclay nods, and apologizes the entire time they’re gathering the strewn pieces back into the envelope.

“Barclay?” Joseph cuts him off and eases him down until he’s on his back, “I forgive you. Now please go to sleep before you pass out from stress.”

The cook smiles at him, eyes already fluttering closed, “You’re the boss, Joseph.”

He ignores all the urges that kickstarts in him and leaves his friend to sleep in peace.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Y’know, kind of wish we’d known each other back then.” Barclay looks up from where he’s helping Joseph sort the new evidence on the floor, “when I was in San Francisco, I mean.”

“It would have taken more than just a change of scene for me; my family does alright, but I’d have been way outside your circles.”

“So? Maybe then I coulda had a boyfriend who was ‘disreputable’ for bullshit reasons instead of real ones.”

“I’ve never once been disreputable.” He looks up from the photos in his hand, “and is that your way of telling me something, big guy.”

“Yes. I, uh, you can tell me to knock it off, but I, uh, I think you’re swell. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way but you said I should be…” he trails off as Joseph leans into his space,”honest.”

He kisses him once, so brief it barely counts but the larger man whimpers and tries to grab him before he pulls away.

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me to hit the brakes if you need to; it won’t change my dedication to the case.”

“I promise.” There’s no dishonesty in his face, just boundless hope and affection.

“In that case, big guy” he lunges forward, pinning him to the rug, “you’re all mine.”

An unexpectedly high whine leaves his lover.

“You like when I’m rough?”

“Uh, uh huh, so much, people always want me to be and I don’t want to, wanna be, wanna beAHHHhhnnn” he arches his back as Joseph bites the patch of skin just below his beard.

“You’re so gentle, big guy, I thought you’d go straight to making love but” another bite, another gasp, “I think I’d better fuck you instead.”

“Please.” Barclays hands glide up to cup Joseph’s face and guide him down into another kiss.

Joseph rolls his hips forward and his sleeves up as speaks, “Now that you mention it, I can see how things would’ve gone if we met earlier. I was an obedient son but not beyond sneaking someone into my room when my parents were away” he undoes Barclay’s shirt, keeps grinding against him and licking his lips as he feels him getting hard, “or maybe we met down here, and you’d sneak me into the backyard.”

“Fuck, yes.” Barclays chest heaves as Joseph cards his fingers up through the dark hair to tease his nipples, “god, if how I, fuck, feel now is a clue, I’d have been so fucking mad for you.” He makes a charming groan as Joseph tongues his nippls and then nibbles his way up to his ear.

“It’s funny” Joseph kisses his cheek, “I knew so many guys like you on the force. Not you now, used to hard work and worry, but you then; spoiled and softer than a boiled egg.” He allows himself a moment of savoring their cocks teasing each other through their pants before continuing, “always wanted to discipline them, because it was clear no one ever did.”

“Please show me how.”

“Why?” He grins down at him, toying with his left nipple until it’s bright red.

“Because I wanna be good for you, Joseph. Wanna be every fantasy you ever had.”

“...Lord god almighty how am I supposed to say no to that?” Joseph undoes his suspenders, laughing at Barclay’s triumphant smile, “you’re a dream, big guy.”

He crawls so he’s straddling Barclays face, cock dripping pre-cum onto his lips. Barclays tongue keeps peeking out from between them, but doesn’t go further without permission.

“Since this is disciplinary, you don’t get a say in how it goes. You’ll take my cock as long and as deep as I want it, because I’m superior to you and you’re here to do what I say”

“Fuckyeah” Barclay paws Joseph’s thighs, opens his mouth so he can guide the head in.

“That, ohyes, that being said, if it’s really too much, tap my thigh twice.”

Barclay nods to show he understands, but is already pre-occupied sucking his cock like he’s starving for it.

“A good start, big guy, but if I just wanted my cock wet I’d have gone swimming.” He cups the back of Barclays head in both hands, “I want something to fuck, and your face is it.”

The man beneath him moans, fucks the air uselessly as Joseph pushes further in. He finds the resistance of his throat with a half-inch to go, and decides that’s good enough. He pulls halfway out, pushes back in, repeats the process a few times before finding his rhythm. Weeks of wanting mean it’s hurried and greedy, but the resulting moans suggest Barclay approves.

“You look so good like this, Barclay. God, if you’d been some fresh-faced officer, one look of those doe-eyes is all it, shit, would’ve taken for me to make this the only discipline you ever got. Any time I needed to put you in your place or just, fuck, just needed to let off some steam, I’d do this, get my, my cock in your mouth so often you’d run out of spit and be thankful for my cum in, in it’s place.”

Barclay is groping him again, eyes bright and lips managing some upward curve as his cock forces them apart.

“Then again” he tenderly massages Barclay’s scalp, “there’s no reason I can’t do that in this universe. Oh, ohshit, Barclay-” his words desert him as he cums, the other man swallowing eagerly and sucking him clean before he pulls out.

Joseph glances over his shoulder, “Can I take care of that for you?”

“Fuck, please?”

He rolls off of the cook, stays on his side and slips one arm under his shoulders. Then he sets his palm on the monstrous bulge in Barclay’s jeans and sets to work.

“I, I should unzip-”

“No” he kisses him, “we’re surrounded by evidence that I can’t have you cumming on. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the mess you make cumming in your pants like a teenager.”

“Promise?” It’s an odd thing to say, but Joseph thinks he understands.

“I promise.” He quickens his pace, Barclay’s grunts growing louder when he does, “I’ll take care of you, big guy. I’ll look after you. You don’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.”

“Joseph.” Is all the reply he gets, Barclay already turning as cum spreads across his fly and clinging to the detective. His breath is hot, stays shaky even as his cock stops pulsing.

“Barclay? Baby, are you alright?”

“So fucking good, babe. I, I uh” he holds him tighter, “this is the first thing to make sense to me in years. Loving you, having you in my life, I get how we fit together so easily. Everything else, the murder, Ma, this person lurking around the last place that feels like home waiting to hurt me or hurt Mama or someone there, all of it, it’s so goddamn tangled I’m worried it’ll never get straight.”

Joseph rests their cheeks together, “We’ll figure it out, big guy. I promise.”

[daiseukiis]

: ̗̀➛𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

─꒱ love showed it’s way in many ways, but never in his life did kuroo tetsuro think this was how his love for would repay him

─꒱ feat. kuroo tetsuro

─꒱ warnings ; angst in the end !

─꒱ notes ; this was in my drafts, n i should update the mlist lmao

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

⠀⠀⠀⠀EVERYONE THAT KNEW YOU TWO HAD THE SAME THOUGHT WHEN THEIR EYES LAID ON THE PAIR. ‘perfect.’ you two were just utterly perfect for each other. kuroo especially loved everything about you, in his eyes you were the only perfect one. the way your smile would light up the room, your eyes glittered like a thousand stars in the night, he was addicted to you like a drug always looking for that high.

but why?

"sorry! are you hurt?" a hand was stretched out to you while you laid on your ass. the throbbed pain on your head while your eyes blurred even for a second. you let out groan as your hand touched the part of your head you knew was going to have a bump on it.

"who the fuck was that?" you hissed to the raspy voice that came running your way, only for eyes to widen at a bed haired boy. his arm out for you, gosh you blushed at how handsome he was while apologizing. lost in a daze you blankly took his hand as he pulled you up with much force.

"kuroo, sorry, you got hit by a volleyball."

"i'm y/n…"

i thought i was the one.

"congrats! you two are finally a couple!" your friend had cheered out, bumping you as it caused your body to get flung to the side, but luckily you were able to catch yourself before falling. even the tiniest blush tinted your cheeks, making your friends gush even more about the event.

"you must be glad kuroo smacked you with a volleyball, hey?" yes, it was your first year during a sports festival, and him and his team were playing volleyball near your friends which caused that accident. but you two talked about it and well… got a bit close during second year.

"if you put it that way…" shyly brushing a few strands of hair behind your ears, your friends had continued to scream and gush more about how you two were the perfect couple for each other.

"you're pretty cute, aren't you?" a voice chuckled behind you, arms that wrapped around your waist as it caused you to flinch at the certain contact. you glanced behind, knowing full well who it was. the smile on his lips showed his happiness, and the kiss he planted on your cheeks showed his love.

"i… i could get used to this." you utter out, only softly enough for him to hear. kuroo grinned before nuzzling his face at the crock of your neck making you laugh. you two ignored the squeals your friends made, having you both lose yourselves in your own world.

"i could say the same."

why did it end this way?

"c'mon y/n! you look pretty cute in my jersey!" kuroo boasted, all in front of his teammates as a proud captain showing off his girlfriend. you only rolled your eyes at him, pointing a finger accusingly at your boyfriend.

"see, captain, you better win!" the shit eating grin found it's way to his face, causing you to flinch at the sudden change of atmosphere. in one swift mood he made his way towards you, gripping his hands on your hips and lifting you up. a small scream left your lips as you instantly put your hands on his shoulders to stop the unevenness of his lift.

he twirled you around in the air, but with how close he was to you, your legs had wrapped around his torso and arms around his neck. your one hand brought his face close to your, giving him a nice sweet kiss on the lips.

"yuck! mom and dad are kissing again!"

"kuroo you shit!"

why did you have to choose him.

"y/n! are you okay?! can you hear me?" kuroo screamed out to you, hands which held the sides of the medical bed as he came rushing to the hospital after he was contacted.

there you were, on life support talking to your family. a few bandages here and there but nonetheless, he still found the sight of you breathtaking. you turned from giggling at a man who kuroo has assumed was there in the accident, looking at him with a confused look. yet the words that left your mouth only caused his heart to shatter.

"who are… you?"

i thought you loved me.

"i'm sorry to tell you this… but she has amnesia. due tk the car accident head on, it caused damage to the brain causing her to lose her memories." kuroo's fists tightened, standing in front of the doctor that was treating you.

the doctor let out a sigh, fixing his glasses while holding onto the clipboard of your current status. the lights in the hallway flickered only once, a hitch in the electric system. kuroo couldn't bear to look at the doctor, who now put a hand on his shoulder.

"boy, it must be tough for the one you love to lose memories of you." his tears almost fell to the floor as fast as the clack of the doctor's shoes sounded, his strained eyes staring at the small glass window of your figure talking happily with someone. making gestures as that someone continued to peel apples for you, making you blush and smile. someone that was making memories of your love.

someone that wasn't him.

but i guess it was one sided.

"i'm sorry but… i don't feel the same way about you. it wasn't you who stayed by my side…" you looked at kuroo, your heart strings tugging. the guilt of not knowing your former lover and your memories hurt you. but you could never remember the happy moments you shared with him, no matter how hard any of you could try.

"just… just be happy okay?" his voice cracked, his eyes beginning to wet while you only stood there as you watched him break down right in front of your eyes.

the happiness, sadness, despair and love you both shared was now nothing. it was in the past and you both know nothing could be done once it was done. especially when that love was never given back after a fateful accident.

you nodded your head, wiping the tears that started to run down his face. was this how his love was to repay him? high school had now ended, and the perfect couple people once knew were now nothing but strangers, struck by tragic misfortune.

"forget about me, and be happy." he nodded, the last time we was to feel your delicate hands touch his skin. the last he would feel your soft lips kiss his cheeks. a voice called out to you, the new lover you started developing feelings for after the past year.

"i'll take care of her," daishou had proclaimed as he stood in front of the other captain with a small, 'yeah.' kuroo had only nodded, watching as you stepped back and wrapped your arm around his. a smile that would be flashed towards him wholeheartedly before you walked away out of his life.

"goodbye, kuroo."

this would be the last that he would feel any love from you.

"i loved you first..."

taglist ; @inumakiful @to-move-on-means-to-grow @hq128 @hoeevern @captaincyberqueen @nvritoshi @your-consulting-fangirl @strawberry-feline @strawbebbies-ky @thevoidwriting @messofavs @syrenblubs @ulaaaaaaann @gomchan @vintagexparker @duhsies @lumpiang-toge @falling-through-pages @foreverisho @hannas16 @chewymoustachio

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

DO NOT REPOST 、 MODIFY 、 CLAIM WORK OR LAYOUT AS YOURS.

© MGUQIIS 、 2021

[flightlessangelwings]

Wicked Game

Comandante Veracruz x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!Veracruz, bondage, blindfolds, teasing, oral (m & f receiving), face fucking, spreader bar (of course), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare

I blame @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ for this one who came screaming in my inbox with this idea and it wouldn’t leave my head until I wrote it lol! And super thank you to @tintinwrites​ for beta reading for me!

(gif by @thewaythisis​)

~

It was always a game that Veracruz played with you, and you were a more than willing participant. You loved it because he always kept things fresh in the bedroom, and he always kept you guessing as to what he had in store for you next. This little game, however, you never saw coming. Literally.

When you walked into his apartment, Veracruz greeted you with a large piece of rope in one hand and a black velvet blindfold in the other. You looked at what he had in his hands with a look of pure lust before you met his gaze to find that same look in his eyes.

“Are you ready, cariño?” his voice was low as he practically purred his words.

You bit your lip and nodded, but your voice failed you. He always had a way with you that made you absolutely weak.

Veracruz grinned, he knew the effect he had on you and it fueled him like nothing else, “Turn around.”

You obeyed as you found yourself pushed against the door to his bedroom with your arms pinned at your side. Veracruz’s lips immediately found their way to your neck and sucked hard at the sensitive skin there while he worked on removing your clothes.

You let out a lot moan as you bucked yourself up against him as much as you could, though it was hard for you to move while his strong arms held you against the door. Veracruz only broke away for quick moments to strip you completely naked before he held arms behind your back this time.

Veracruz placed hot, open mouth kisses along your spine before he wrapped the rope around your wrists and tied it tightly. You let out a soft whimper when he gave it a final tug to make sure it was secure. He paused to make sure you were ok, and only continued when you leaned back against him and whispered his name.

His lips found that spot on your neck that drove you wild as his hands ran up the sides of your body. He grinned against your skin when you shivered at his touch before he kissed his way down your neck to suck a mark on the top of your shoulder.

Veracruz’s hands briefly wrapped around your neck before he let you feel the soft fabric of the blindfold. Without a word, he tied it around your eyes; now you were completely at his mercy.

“Comandante…” you whined as you turned your head to try to find his lips. He allowed it, and met your lips together in a chaste kiss. 

“Now,” he broke the kiss to say, “I’m going to leave you here,” the amusement was apparent in his voice, “And you have to find your way to my cock,” he paused to appreciate the whine that escaped your throat, “And then you’re going to suck it good like you always do.”

“Yes, Comandante,” your voice trembled as much as your body did. When you tried to seek him out with your lips one more time, he backed away and you whined when you felt the loss of contact. 

Luckily, you knew the layout of his bedroom well so you had your bearings before he took your sight from you. The only complication was that you had no idea where he could have gone to when he broke away from you. Your instinct said that he walked over to his bed, so you decided to shuffle your way there first.

Veracruz indeed did sit himself on the edge of his bed after he took his shirt off and pulled his cock out of his pants. Just from the sight of you bound and at his mercy, he was half hard already, and he lazily palmed his erection as he watched you take small, slow steps towards him. 

His face turned into a snarl as he thought about your lips around his cock, and then all the things he wanted to do to you afterwards. The room was silent as you slowly stepped closer and closer towards the comandante. He briefly thought about moving to make his game harder on you, but the need to fuck your mouth was too great.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered when you were about halfway to him. You followed without question, but it wasn’t enough for him, “What was that?” he added in a cocky voice.

“Y-yes sir,” you swallowed hard before you started to make your way closer to him again. It was definitely harder for you to move and keep your balance while on your knees, especially with your arms bound behind you. But, you knew that your reward was well worth it, so you kept going.

Veracruz was silent again; he didn’t want to make it too easy on you. He wanted until you were only a few paces away to speak again and give you a hint as to where he was, “That’s it…” he cooed.

You couldn’t help the whimper when you realized how close you were to him and you leaned forward a bit to try to feel his body with your face, “Comandante…” you whined as you felt yourself get frustrated when you couldn’t find him.

“Work for it,” was all he said. But the sound of his voice was enough for you to finally reach him, and you both smiled when your cheek made contact with his knee.

You kissed his clothed knee first before you kissed your way up his leg. Veracruz didn’t touch you until you reached his now fully erect length, and when you did he grabbed you by the back of your head to pull you flush against him. 

Without warning, he pushed his cock into your mouth. Even without your vision, you knew it was coming and your mouth was already open and ready for him.

Veracruz groaned as his length disappeared into your mouth, and he could never get used to the sight of you like this. You took him in as far as you could and stifled the gag that threatened when the tip of him hit the back of your throat. He stopped for a moment to let you adjust before he pulled out halfway and thrust in again.

You moaned against his length as you strained against your restraints. You sat on your knees in front of Veracruz as you put all your trust in him while he fucked your face. His strong arms held your head still, his legs on either side of your kneeling figure as he rocked his hips forward against you. 

“So good… My good slut… Just for my cock,” Veracruz mumbled his praises for you as you sucked hard on his length, “You going to let me come in your mouth?”

It was phrased as a question, but you knew better, “Mmmhmm,” was all you could reply with as you still gagged on his cock. 

A few more thrusts was all it took for Veracruz to spill his seed into your mouth, and you happily swallowed every drop. Even when he pulled away, your lips chased his length, and he loved how greedy you always were for him. He watched you for a moment, still bound and blindfolded as you licked the sides of your lips to catch the few drops that spilled out of your mouth. His eyes trailed down and he just knew you were already so wet for him, even without needing to touch you at all.

Veracruz let his gaze linger on you for a moment, and he was grateful for the blindfold or else you would have seen the look of complete adoration he had on his face. He shook himself out of that, however, and his usual commanding self was instantly back.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

You swallowed again to make sure you got all of him before you replied, “Yes sir,” your voice was hoarse as you stood up on shaky legs. Veracruz stood with you and he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you fiercely. He never thought he would like the taste of himself on someone else’s tongue, but with you he couldn't seem to get enough. You moaned into his mouth as you felt his strong grip on your waist.

In one swift motion, Veracruz stepped to your side and pushed you down onto the bed so that you were on your stomach. Your legs remained straight with your feet still on the floor, your dripping wet cunt on full display for him. Veracruz rubbed a hand on your ass and gave it a harsh slap before he stepped away to remove his pants completely and grab something else.

Your whimpering filled the room as you pulled your arms taught against the rope in anticipation for what he would do next. You could hear him shuffle around behind you, and it wasn’t until you felt the cold metal at your ankles that you realized what he grabbed: his trusty spreader bar. 

Once it was secure around your ankles, Veracruz pulled the bar even more so that your legs made a wide V-shape. He stood back and admired the view for a moment, and the sounds you made only added to the scene before him.

Veracruz teased you once more and touched just his fingertips to the back of your legs. He started down at your calves and slowly ran them up the back of your legs until he reached your ass. He then gave you a rough squeeze there, which pulled a cry from you.

“Please,” you begged and his resolve broke.

The comandante wrapped his arms around your waist and dove into your wet cunt. He moaned into you as you let out a loud scream of pleasure. Veracruz didn’t start slow with you, and his tongue drew patterns along your folds as he ate you out from behind. Every time you tried to squirm, he only held you down tighter and sucked on your clit harder. 

“Comand… Comandante…” your tears soaked the blindfold as he relentlessly sucked on your pussy. He slowed down for a moment, but you knew it was only to tease you more.

Veracruz ran his tongue from your clit up the length of your folds until he reached your entrance. He then swirled his tongue around the ring of muscle there before he pushed into you. You buried your head into the sheets as you felt his tongue thrust in and out of you a few times before he ran it back to your clit.

“Come for me,” he growled into you, “Scream my name,” he sucked at your clit even harder as his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

That was all it took for your orgasm to completely take you over and you came with a loud scream. Veracruz felt your whole body shake, but he did not let up. He kept his pace with his tongue against your clit and before you could even recover from your first orgasm, a second one washed over you.

Veracruz pulled away, his face dripping with your juices to watch you come down from your high. The taste of you along with the way you cried and screamed for him was enough to make him fully hard again. The comandante stroked himself a few times before he lined himself up at your entrance.

You whimpered when you felt his tip against you, and you gathered whatever strength you had left in you to lift your hips up for him.

“Good girl,” he praised you in a low voice before he slammed himself into you. When you tried to bend your legs, you forgot about the bar around your ankles, and all you could manage was shift your weight back and forth between your legs.

Cries and groans from both you and the comandante filled the room as he stretched you out and fucked you hard. Your head fell back down onto the mattress as you took a mouthful of his sheets into your mouth to stifle your screams.

But he did not like that. Veracruz wanted to hear every delicious sound that you made. Instead of lifting you up by your head, though, he grabbed onto your bound wrists and lifted your arms up off your back that way. He pulled you up so that your torso hovered over the bed and you were forced to let go of your makeshift gag.

“Fuck!” you cried out as the new angle hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. 

Veracruz reached forward and pulled the blindfold off your eyes, “Look at how well I fill you up.”

You blinked a few times before you dropped your head to watch him thrust hard and fast into your pussy. Having your sight blocked only added to the feeling of him inside you, but there was something about watching his cock fill you up that turned you on like nothing else. The sound of skin slapping against each other as he buried himself in your cunt over and over again added even more to the sensations you always felt.

“So good,” you stuttered between your moans, “You fill me so good, Comandante.”

“I believe,” he grunted as he bottomed out inside of you and held still, “I told you to scream my name,” he thrust once, “Now do what I say.”

When Veracruz resumed his thrusts, he snaked one hand around to rub harsh circles on your clit while the other held your bound wrists up. It only took a few strokes for you to come again, and this time you screamed his name just like he wanted you to. Your third orgasm of the night triggered his second and Veracruz came inside you with a loud groan. 

Veracruz let go of your wrists and collapsed on top of you, which caused you to grunt in surprise. He made no attempt to move, but he brushed his hand against the side of your face to make sure he didn’t actually hurt you when he flopped on top of you. You placed a soft kiss to his palm to let him know you were ok, and he kissed your shoulder in response in a rare display of tender affection. 

You hummed contently as the weight of his body and his light kisses across your back comforted you. Veracruz made his way up to your face and kissed away the tears that fell down your cheeks when he pounded into you. He stayed like that for a while before he slowly pulled out of you and freed you from all the restraints. 

Neither of you spoke as he gently rubbed your wrists and inspected your skin for bruises. As much as he loved to leave marks on your skin, he only wanted the marks to come from him and not from the rope or anything else. Satisfied with how your skin looked, Veracruz placed a tender kiss to your wrist before he moved to lay on his back and pulled you in close to him.

You had laid still while he checked you over, and followed his silent command and rested your head on his chest. You sighed when he rested an arm around your waist and you closed your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat in his chest. It wasn’t until Veracruz kissed the top of your head that you knew he was back from his after-sex haze. 

“That was amazing,” you broke the silence.

Veracruz gave you a single squeeze and you knew that meant that he thought the same thing. You looked up at him, only to see his gaze was elsewhere and you decided not to say anything else. After you lingered for a few moments to memorize his profile, you laid your head back down on his chest and just enjoyed the moment. 

It wasn’t until he was sure that you wouldn’t see that Veracruz turned his head to stare down at you and admired how beautiful you looked. Of course you never looked more beautiful than when he was buried inside you, but when you rested naked against his body, it was a very close second. 

~

Notes: Apparently my brand now is Veracruz and spreader bars and I am totally ok with that! Character taglists are open, so let me know if you’d like to be added! And of course, I’ve got plenty more Veracruz in the works, so keep an eye out ;)

Everything taglist: @thirsty-flygirl​

Pedro character taglist:  @tintinwrites​ @ollypopp​ @starwarswh0re​ @emesispo​  @perropascal​ @shadow-assassin-blix​ @huliabitch​ @randomness501​ @absurdthirst​ @clydesducktape​ @lackofhonor​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @girlwithanewplan​  @wickedfrsgrl​ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​  @theravenreads​ @maryan028​ @wonder-jedi​ @lilangeldevil006​ @agingerindenial​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​

[dreamypeaches]

don’t wake up pt. 2 | rafe cameron x reader

summary: after spending the week hoping to see rafe again, sarah invites you to a sleepover at tannyhill.

warnings: SMUT, cursing, alcohol use

word count: 2.8k

a/n: thank you all for the wonderful response to part 1! this is my first time posting smut, so let me know what you think of it. i honestly think i did a good job rereading it, bc it is hot. there will definitely be one or two more parts to this, maybe even more idk. all i know for sure is there will be a lot more sexy times. enjoy :)

series masterlist

It had been a week since the Boneyard kegger and you couldn’t get Rafe out of your head. You hadn’t seen him since that night, at least not in real life. Your dreams, however, were plagued with him. The way his hands had gripped your hips, his lips on your lips, your neck, imagining how they would feel on other parts of your body.

Part of you had been tempted to drive down to Figure 8 and “run into him” somewhere. One morning, after an especially steamy dream, you almost asked Sarah for his number. But then you thought of the questions that would come with that request and decided against it. You felt pathetic, pining after a guy you’d spent a couple hours with. A guy who, by all accounts was an asshole and hated people like you. Why would he want a Pogue like you?

Still, you wanted to see him. At least once. Just look in his eyes and see if that same spark was there. You had even tagged along with JJ during the day more often than usual, hoping Rafe and his Kook friends would appear to antagonize one of your best friends. But he was nowhere to be seen. As the week came to a close, you resigned yourself to experiencing his touch in your dreams only.

You were laying in the hammock at the Chateau listening to music with Kie, who laid beside you lazily braiding your hair, when Sarah suddenly appeared. She practically jumped onto you and Kie’s laps, a grin on her face.

“Let’s have a girls night!” She proclaimed, “Ward and Rose are taking Wheezie and her friend on a mini vacation on the mainland, so I have Tannyhill all to myself!”

“What about Rafe?” You asked, trying to fill your voice with disdain rather than hope. Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry about him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother us. So?”

You and Kie looked at each other. Kie raised her eyebrows, a smirk on her face. You smiled back and nodded. Both of you looked back at Sarah.

“We’re in!” Kie said.

“Yay!” Sarah pulled both of you into a hug, already unleashing all of her plans for the night. After telling you to be there at 6, she left to prepare for the night.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had a night just us girls. I mean, I love the boys, but I could use a break from them,” Kie said, finishing the braid in your hair.

“Yeah, fuck the boys,” You giggled, though in your head, you were much more focused on one particular boy than the girls night ahead of you.

Kie drove you to Sarah’s house, arriving at 6:30. Kie complained about how long it took you to get ready for a sleep over. You just laughed and told her you needed to look good for your girls. If she had know the truth, her head might have exploded. You had worn your cutest pair of pajamas, a large shirt with short shorts that left little to the imagination. You’d even done your make up. Not much, keeping it natural. After all, it was a sleep over, you didn’t need to go all out.

You were disappointed when you didn’t see Rafe as you walked in, but assumed Sarah had probably threatened him with violence if he came anywhere near her friends. You tried not to let thoughts of Rafe distract you, actually wanting to enjoy the night with your best girl friends. Sarah had stolen a couple bottles of wine from her dad’s wine cellar, passing around wine glasses before heading up to her room.

The three of you quickly became tipsy on the wine, giggling at little things. You all were laying on Sarah’s large bed, giggling at Sarah’s sexual mishap with John B in the Twinkie.

“I thought my nipple was going to come off! Like I’m sorry, I know it probably hurt when I kneed your dick, but who bites a nipple that hard? So, moral of the story, never have sex in the back of the van.”

You and Kie burst into laughter, while Sarah contained her giggles, trying her best to look annoyed.

“What about you two? Any sexy stories to share? Y/N, what about that Touron from the kegger?”

Your laughter quickly faded as Rafe was brought to the forefront of your mind. You bit your lip, trying to hide a smile.

“Nothing happened, I haven’t seen him since that night.”

“Well, you need to track him down!” Kie exclaimed, sitting up on her elbow to look down at you. You just shrugged, not meeting your friend’s eyes.

“Y/N, you should have seen the look on your face when we were leaving. You had literal stars in your eyes.”

You shrugged and downed the rest of you wine, sitting up on the bed.

“I don’t know. If I run into him again, we’ll see what happens. I’m gonna go get some water.”

Sarah started asking Kie about the girl she had been talking to as you padded out of the room and down the stairs.

You made your way to the kitchen, where a happy surprise waited for you. Rafe stood cooking something at the stove. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His back was facing you, giving you a moment to take in his form. Your eyes wandered his body, tracing his biceps and the curve on his shoulder blade.

“Hi, Rafe,” You finally said, just loud enough for him to hear. He turned suddenly, surprised expression quickly turning to a smirk. You looked into his green eyes and felt your heart jump when you saw it. That spark you’d been hoping for for the past week.

“Hey,” he replied. You slowly made your way to the cupboard, making sure to brush up against him as you passed.

“How’ve you been?” He asked. You shrugged, filling up your glass at the fridge.

“I’ve been better. I’ve been a little lonely, especially at night, you know? My mind starts to wander to certain places,” You moved back over to Rafe. Your chests were almost touching as he smirked down at you. His breath fanned across your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe you need a little company,” He whispered, his low tone going straight to your core. You smiled at him innocently, moving so your lips were inches apart.

“Yeah I do.”

You noticed him start to lean in and quickly pulled away, skipping towards the stairs.

“That’s why I’m having girls night,” You called, keeping the innocent look on you face. His light eyes had grown dark, watching as you moved away. They followed the curve of you ass, very evident in the shorts you were wearing. You inwardly smirked at the effect you had and started up the stairs.

“Your grilled cheese is burning, by the way,” You called. You giggled at the quiet shit he let out and made your way back to Sarah’s room.

You, Kie, and Sarah spent the next several hours having as much fun as you could. After a few dance parties, a couple rounds of truth or dare, and intense argument about whether Hannah Montana or Miley Cyrus was better that almost turned violent, you all collapsed on to the bed, turning on a random movie. Sarah and Kie fell asleep quickly, but you were wide awake, replaying the moment with Rafe in the kitchen.

You rubbed your thighs together, wanting nothing more than for Rafe to touch you. With a groan, you hopped out the bed and quietly escaped Sarah’s room. You had been to Sarah’s house several times before, but your knowledge of the layout was reduced to the path from the kitchen to Sarah’s room. You tiptoed down the hallway, trying to figure out which room was his. You a few doors down from Sarah’s, you could see a faint light from beneath the door frame. You knocked a couple times, then stood, waiting. It didn’t take long for Rafe to open the door. He was still shirtless, but had removed his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. He smirked down at you, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head.

“You fucking tease,” He said before crashing his lips onto yours. You were almost knocked off your feet by the force of it. You placed your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Without breaking the kiss, he moved you into his room, kicking the door closed behind him. His hand moved down to your ass, gripping hard as he lightly slammed you against the wall. He broke the kiss, brushing your hair out of your face as his eyes examined your flustered face. The same hand slowly moved down your cheek until it was gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. Do you have any idea what you do to me? I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week, how I wanted to fuck you while you screamed my name.”

You let out a whimper at his words, breathing uneven. You could feel your panties become more and more soaked as his hand moved from your ass to your hip, playing with the waist band of your shorts.

“Then you come into my kitchen wearing this, getting me all worked up.” He laughed humorlessly, his hand diving below your waistband. His fingers ghosted across the soaked fabric that covered your center.

“Got yourself all worked up too, didn’t you?”

Your panties were pushed to the side, giving him space to run his fingers through your folds. You let out a moan as you nodded. His finger came up to his lips, sucking your wetness from them.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you,” He said before going on his knees in front of you. His breath fanned against your inner thighs as he slowly slid your shorts down your thighs. When they landed on the floor, you stepped out of them and kicked them across the floor. Rafe placed gentle kisses across your thighs and stomach, avoiding the spot you needed him most. You whimpered as his mouth hovered over your clothed clit.

“What do you want, baby?” Rafe said.

“Touch me, Rafe, please, I need you!” You moaned out. He was quick to respond, fingers deftly moving your underwear aside, giving him space to wrap his lips around your sensitive bundle, lightly sucking. You moaned so loudly it was almost a scream. Rafe gave a hard slap to your ass in response, looking up at you.

“Uh uh, not too loud, angel. Don’t want your friends to hear, do you?”

You shook your head quickly, hand reaching down to push him closer to your pussy. He chuckled before compiling, licking a strip up your center, thumb moving to rub circles against your clit. Your head fell back against the wall as he continued his movements. His tongue delved into you, flicking in and out. One of his arms wrapped around your thigh, holding you up while spreading you wider. You were already a mess of pleasure when he slowly pushed two fingers into you, tongue moving up to you clit. You bit your lip to surpress your moans, but it was difficult as his fingers started to move faster. It became too much and a single, long moan escaped your mouth. Rafe’s movements ceased. He removed his fingers from you and stood up, hand gripping your hair, pulling it to where there was more pleasure than pain,

“What the fuck did I say?” He asked. Your tried to rub your thighs together, trying to regain the friction you had lost, but he moved his leg between your own.

“I’m sorry, Rafe. Please, I’ll be quiet, I promise,” You whimpered.

He smirked at you.

“Yes you will.”

He kissed you again, tongue dominating your own as he explored your mouth. He dragged you to the bed, throwing you down on your back before returning to his knees, pulling you to the edge of the mattress. He nearly ripped your panties off, mouth diving back to taste your dripping center. His hand reached up, clasping over your mouth, while the other returned to your entrance, fingers fucking you roughly. It didn’t take long before you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. Your screams were muffled behind Rafe’s hand as he continued to lick and suck on your clit, fingers pounding into you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you came on his fingers. You felt him smirk as you clenched around him, but his movement didn’t let up. He moved his hand up under your shirt to massage your breast while his tongue moved down to fuck your entrance. He went back an forth between your entrance and you clit, hand moving between both your breasts to roughly massage them. Your second orgasm came fast and hard, leaving you with stars behind your eyes as he lapped up your juices.

He moved up your body, biting and sucking across your torso, leaving bright red and purple marks like constellations. He reached your face and removed his hand, kissing you hard and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. He broke away, pulling your shirt over head and throwing it to the side before standing up, pulling his boxers off. You bit your lip as you stared at his cock, wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around it. He stroked himself a few times, taking in your fuck out look and the hungry look in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get to taste my cock later. Right now, I want to feel you.”

He reached into his bedside table and pulled out a condom. He ripped it open and rolled it over his dick, stroking it a few for times. He stood over you, eyes once again raking over your body.

“God, look at you. You’re gonna take me so good.” He leaned over you, hand coming up to grip your throat. A moan started to escape your lips at the pressure, but he caught it with a kiss. He pushed himself into you as he kissed you, giving you little time to adjust to his size before he started pounding into you. He broke the kiss, holding himself up on his forearm as he thrusted into you. His hand tightened around your throat, muffling your loud moans slightly, leaving the only other sound in the room to be the slapping of skin and the dirty words Rafe whispered in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you like this for days.”

“Feel so much better than in my dreams, baby.”

“Taking that cock so well.”

After several minutes, his hand moved from your throat down to you clit, rubbing fast circles into it. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his thrusts became harder, hitting that spot inside of you. You were so close. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, you could tell he was close too. He leaned down again, fingers still working your clit, and whispered, “Cum all over my dick, angel.”

You did as you were told, coming with a scream of his name, for a moment not caring if Kie and Sarah heard. Rafe wasn’t far behind you. He suddenly pulled out, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He removed the condom from himself and gave a few short stroked before coming across your chest and stomach.

“Fuck,” He whispered, more to himself than you. You heard him walk to the joining bathroom, but didn’t pay much attention. Your eyes were shut tight, trying to catch you breath and come to terms with what just happened. You just fucked Rafe Cameron. Hard. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, it was the best sex you’ve ever had.

Rafe returned with a wet towel, cleaning his cum off of you before collapsing beside you. He pulled back the covers and pulled you into his side under them. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat in his chest. His hand gently played with your hair, a stark contrast to his actions before.

You laid their in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. Eventually, you heard Rafe’s breath even out, quiet snores vibrating through his chest that you found adorable. You untangled yourself from his arm, slipping off the bed to gather your clothes and redress. Sneaking back to Sarah’s room, you hoped neither of the girls had noticed your absence, or heard you screaming Rafe’s name a few rooms down.

The next morning, Rafe woke feeling cold. He turned over to where you had been lying, the nights events running through his head and he hoped that it wasn’t just a dream. But he smiled when he noticed a yellow sticky note on the pillow beside him with a series of numbers and a note in your unique handwriting.

Text me :)

taglist: @bluesiderudy 

[fandom-blackhole]

I'm back from my mandatory two day socialization recovery period required for all socialization even if I enjoy it. It's time for some Mermaid!Din au thoughts (No thots unfortunately but we'll live)

First off I love the isolation that the reader faces because of the lighthouse they live in. And I love how the townspeople being nice to the reader help give them a reason to stick around when weird things start happening.

I love how it took months before anything strange starts happening, like were Din and Grogu just not around or were they observing the reader. Did Din ever try to stop Grogu from damaging the lighthouse or did he let the little rascal do as he pleased.

· And gosh I love the idea of reader dressing in old worn clothing, a knit sweater with fraying sleeves, sweat pants covered in paint from repairs, an old windbreaker to help keep the cold out. It makes me heart all warm and fuzzy.

Edna, who i've head cannoned as this series Miss Chatham (H2O: just add water charter) is honestly life goals. Like live near ocean - check(ish), have rare knowledge that can be used to help new person - check, being just slightly spooky -amazing. And is that a little matchmaker I see her playing? I love it.

Then Grogu being injured :( I bet that Din is absolutely being eaten alive by guilt even though we all know it’s not his fault and he does literally anything he can to keep Grogu safe and happy.

And In love how Din is venerable enough to ask for help, like he recognizes that this is something out of his area of expertise so he goes to the person he knows is “safe” to get help. He’s humble enough to admit that he needs help and is not capable of doing everything for Grogu. And being able to admit that is an important life skill that not enough people have.

· But even after he ask the reader for help he is still hesitant which shows that even though hes trusting reader he will still kick (is it still a kick if its with a tail) the readers ass if he hurts him.

“But you can help him” Oh my heart the trust in that sentence. Like Din just heard, “so yeah I can help your son but I have to take him somewhere it will be hard for you to follow. And he needs to stay there for at least a week, and even if you manage to come its going to be so far from your natural element.” But he was still on board with the plan. And then he goes to climb on the rock so he can drag himself all the way to the light house because he can’t let his little boy go alone even if it means hurting himself to do it.

Reader was smart af for doing the old blanket slipperaroo trick

Reader immediately knowing something was up when she walked into town is so realistic. She literally is hiding a massive secret at her lighthouse of course anyone would be on edge walking back into society. Especially a society that already knows a little something about the secret. But them to amplify it. Miss Chatham to the rescue. She knows that reader is up to something and she uses her powers as an old lady with lungs and karen potential to scare off the problem for a little bit. The reader just placed so much trust on Edna by straight up telling her that she's housing Din and Grogu.

· Also that fool browsing the menstrual hygiene rack, like dumbass. Is this your way of making him miss every shot? Because we know that storm troopers are well known for their ability to miss every shot so making him automatically turn to tampons? Genius

Cashier for the win, like beep beep bitch now pay up

The "cyare" omg and then the reader warning Din about the cookies and him being so curious about them. The way Din is so perceptive of the readers mood that he is already able to tell that something is wrong. It was such a smart idea to have the reader lead with asking him to give her a small chance to calm down about what happened in the town.

Din and the reader low-key flirting and teasing each other at the end is so adorable. Grogu with the cookie absolutely melts my heart like of course that boy is hungry.

So this is a slightly polished layout of my stream of consciousness while reading this. Does it make sense? Probably not. But I love this idea and you have done it justice.

Ahhhhhhz thank you for all of the lovely thoughts and compliments, im glad you like my story and I hope it continuesto meet your expectations!!!! And you made perfect sense darling!

To reply to some things:

Honestly, I chose the isolation for two reasons, 1- it made sense, especially for how the plot is going to play out, privacy and isolation is needed, and 2- im introverted and I like being alone, so I just projected

The town's people are great! They are used to having lighthouse keepers just up and leave because of all the weird stuff, so the second that one sticks around they were all overjoyed, because like I said, a lot of the people work on boats fishing so the lighthouse is super important to them

Din did wait and observe the reader, wanting to know what to do when to attempt to scare them off. But also like no, he tried keeping Grogu away from the lighthouse as much as possible, not knowing what the reader might do to him, and just being a protective father, but we all know Grogu is a little shit and he snuck out before Din could stop him

Reader dresses in the COMFIEST clothes, and honestly, I am very much a sweater and comfy leggings kind of person, so again, something I am projecting

I love that you and everyone is loving Edna, she is definitely one of those cool old ladies that sneak you treats and shenanigans when no one is looking!

Also because idk if anyone has pointed it out.... in the last chapter I thought I was heavily hinting at it, but maybe it was more subtle than I thought, Edna and her MERMAID were alot more than friends *wink wink* she's gay as fuck and thats why she made the joke about not liking NUTS

Din loves Grogu, in and out of this AU, and it was 1000% not his fault that Grogu got hurt, in fact he was trying to protect him! Din definitely panicked and the first person that came to mind was the reader, and while he didn't know them, he knew for some reason they were safe to go to for help (as well as knowing the lighthouse would be a good place to hide while some things cooled down 👀), but Din will always be cautious because he is scared for his son

Din is just *chef's kiss* 👌, an amazing father who will do ANYTHING for his son, no matter what it takes

The whole blanket thing literally came from my childhood, thinking about how my sisters and I would drag eachother around on blankets, and I just thought it would be great for this scenario

Like the reader is gonna get real paranoid during this series, im not going to lie to you, things are gonna get rough, but Edna is the MVP she's one of those people that could pull your darkest secrets from you just by glancing at you, and the reader pretty much assumed she was safe to talk to after she had informed her about the food offerings

Ok ok, as for the dudes, I was too lazy to look up their names and stuff but they were these dudes from season 1 that gave Din Grogu's bounty: the first dude is the one 'hiding' in the women's hygiene section

Din is just obsessed for human food at this point, and he feels things for the reader even of he doesn't want to admit it quite yet

Din also may be oblivious as fuck, but he's also observant, hes a bounty hunter for fucks sake, he needs to be able to pick up on these things, so yes in my stories Din is really good at picking up on emotions, even if he doesn't fully know how to react to them

Im aiming for a slow burn foc, but to be honest with you all, chances are it is going to be a regularly paced romance, which for my writing is slow paced, so yeah the idiots are flirting and teasing eachother, but also like they will not be talking about or admitting feelings for at least a few more chapters

Grpgu deserves all the cookies!!! He's a growing tadpole, who has been magically healing himself while in a coma like state, so he hasnt eaten in days, and if he wanted he'd probably be able to devour 2x his body weight and then some, so a few cookies recieved in some kind of mysterious way are well achieved

Merman!Din Tags: @writeforfandoms @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @honey-goth  @mando-abs @lux-cream-67 @rachelle-on-the-run @katcharm   @ladamari68 @bluegalaxyprime @my-life-as-a-bird @altarsw @zarakem @stargazingthenightaway

(Added the taglist in case any of you guys wanted to read over my thoughts and things bc I have some hcs and cleared somethings up ypu may be wondering about)

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 29 (NSFW-lite)

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Read chapter twenty-eight (NSFW)

Title: ASSISTANCE REQUIRED

Words: 5.6k

Summary: I am very uncomfortable with the vibe we have created in the studio Infirmary today...

Warnings: mentions of abuse, suicide

ST Rambles: So... I graduated nursing school. And will be taking my licensure exam next month and start working as well...

In my time away, other than the above mentioned accomplishments, I've been reading a lot of books and even went to see an internet friend just last weekend. Life got insane and I needed to focus on school, and I do appreciate the patience and enthusiasm.

I hope this was worth the wait. I hope the next part will be even more so ;)

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER // @elmidol

Fucking, fuck!

“I know in academy you were told to pierce the skin at a forty-five-degree angle, but it works a lot better if you-,”

“Go in at a fifteen-degree-angle, go parallel to the skin. I know,” you huffed, embarrassment burning your skin. “That’s not the issue. I do that. The issue is-,”

“That is the issue,” Silver corrected, interrupted. Your preceptor-for-all-intents-and-purposes crossed her arms and stared at you with hard, unyielding eyes. “You won’t listen to me,” she spat. “You are the issue.”

Calliope Silvren, or “Silver”, as she’d informed you upon meeting, was everything you were supposed to be. And you hated her for that fact, hated her for that and so much more.

She was intelligent and concise and respected, she knew everything and made sure you were aware that you didn’t. During the past eleven hours, not with so many words, Silver had made it clear that you were never supposed to be here to begin with, that hers was the name in the original provider candidate pool and you were nothing but a fluke, a nobody, nothing.

Compared to Silver, compared to Calliope fucking Silvren, who’d graduated valedictorian, who had star-white hair and golden skin, whose eyes were a harsh sea of frozen cerulean, whose legs were long and lips were full and head was high and posture was perfect – compared to the program’s prototype? What were you other than a fluke? A whim? Compared to her, how were you anything more than the fascination you’d been labeled as from the very start?

As you stared up at her, her height almost that of Kylo’s, and felt the wrath of that frozen sea that resided behind her glare, you couldn’t speak. Every word of defense left you, and your mouth dried and your chest hollowed. Because her words not only rippled through your head but echoed through the unit’s halls so every nurse and physician and maintenance worker had heard them. Heard her and how superior she was, heard how incompetent you were.

Silver knew what she’d done, could feel the eyes of her coworkers gawking at her scolding; you knew by the smallest quirk to her lip, the slightest tick in her platinum brow. She had you trapped and on display, and all you could do was stand here and take it. The Board was watching, and so was Hux – CB-7070 always shadowing ten paces behind – you had no choice but to remain neutral-faced and silent.

She spoke your name and it was beautiful, a voice like sugar even when it slithered and bit like venom, “We’ll pick up tomorrow. If you absolutely need me, I’ll be organizing my report sheets for the oncoming shift.” When no one was looking anymore, her eyes narrowed and she leaned in. “Busy yourself for the next hour.” A sneer slipped past the benevolent mask she wore. “Don’t need me.”

With a steel spine, she whipped past you, stalking off toward her task, the white of her hair streaking from your periphery. And there you were, clutching an IV starter kit – missing the needle, much like you’d missed the vein – trying your hardest to keep from showing any emotion whatsoever. Less people were gawking now that Silver had left, but you still felt eyes on you. Whatever lay in those lingering stares, pity or humor or apathy, it all burned you, reminded you how temporary you were. Not only in this place – the “Infirmary” as the staff referred to it – but in your life, as well.

Smoothing the skirt of your uniform, you cleared your throat and turned to do as you were instructed, catching CB-7070’s visor for a second before peering around the unit. She faced you, and even though you couldn’t see her face, you knew she may be the only one around who was on your side. The white of her helmet glinted as she gave a small nod in your periphery. Yeah, she wasn’t so bad, no matter who she’d report to the second you got back to the Consulate.

The Infirmary was a large unit, and, unlike any place you’d practiced in since graduation, it was efficiently staffed and stocked. Safe nurse-to-patient ratios, sufficient supplies, and an allocated provider available for any emergent orders or treatments. It was a surreal representation of the “hospital utopia” you’d heard of all throughout school.

But, aside from its apparent perfection, some characteristics of the unit confused you, but you didn’t ask about it because no one else seemed to think it was weird, and Silver didn’t exactly foster a great learning environment.

What struck you first was the Infirmary’s construction and layout. It was all glass, floor to ceiling windows that offered full views of each patient in their respective rooms. You’d watched the sun dance across the sky as the day went on, nothing hindering you from the beautiful view of the sea beyond the fanned-out city below. The only thing that offered a semblance of privacy for each patient was the wall-spanning mirror positioned in front of their beds. None of them saw each other, but it was still odd that there seemed to be no concern towards the errant lapse in privacy policy the design created.

At the center was the nurses’ station, large and circular, a skylight fixed right above. The staff used the lack of patient privacy to their advantage, peering above the counter to make sure their assignments were doing alright. Their assignments who were all under the age of twenty. Some much younger, just grasping at adolescence, others kissing young adulthood – those seemed much worse off, something darker rimmed their eyes, ghosted behind the lifeless face all of them wore.

It was a strange environment to be in, even more so due to how vague the progress notes were, history and physicals extremely short and never too in depth, especially when it concerned anything related to the patients’ family history or living situations. Something seemed off, something that tugged at you and made you yearn to break past the flat affect each patient met you with.

So many were here for a few hours and then gone the next, a constant influx of admissions and discharges. But, so strangely, there was never any patient education given, never any parents or guardians for the younger ones to go home to. They were always escorted from the unit by two “official personnel”. And watching their faces as Silver told them they were done with treatment and could leave, it killed you to see the faintest slash of fear quiver their bottom lips.

Beyond that, beyond seeing these younglings so fearful and defenseless, what clawed at your gut the most was that none of them had a name. They had no birthdate information, no address listed, no family contacts entered or even offered. They were all in the system only by the letters “FL” followed by a code of eight numbers. The nurses would refer to them by their room numbers to make it simpler, but none of them shared your concern for the lack of identity these patients were plagued with.

Yes, something seemed off, seemed wrong here. Something waswrong here, but you feared you would be gone before you ever knew what that was.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a tray left on an isolation cart next to a door. Heeding Silver’s command, you approached it, discarding the IV kit and feeling CB-7070’s focus catch your every step. You’d passed this door frequently, never seeing anyone approach it for longer than a few seconds at a time, assuming it was a closet for extra supplies or scanning machines. But the meal card on the tray indicated differently.

This was a patient’s room. The room number matched, there were no other doors labeled with it that you could see. No staff paid you any attention as you peered around. The only one watching was your white-armored shadow standing against a pane of glass.

Shrugging to yourself, feeling you couldn’t possibly get in trouble for delivering a patient’s food, you said over your shoulder to CB-7070, “I’m taking this in. I shouldn’t be long. Don’t follow me in here.” More to yourself, you sighed, “Even if I am the only one here concerned about privacy, I’d prefer not to violate anyone’s rights on my first day.”

CB-7070 nodded. “Affirmative,” her modulator croaked.

A swipe of your new badge gained you access past the door, a whoosh of air whipping through your skirt as it closed behind you. It was pitch dark, the only light coming from a holo-chart programmed into the wall. It appeared you were in an antechamber, those that often came with isolation patients, but there was nothing indicating this patient had any infection or ailment that necessitated a gown or mask.

The air was stale, like nothing and no one had stirred it in a few days, and the only glass visible was that of a window peering into the room beyond – or, it would be peering, were there not closed blinds on the other side of it.

You saw yourself in that darkened pane, clutching the tray to yourself, the first glimpse you caught of your face since the start of shift. Truthfully, you looked awful. Hair frizzed at your temples, a sheen of oil had gathered on your forehead, and exhaustion was evident in the puffy bags beneath your eyes.

But it was an earned appearance, no matter what Silver wanted you and everyone else to believe. Today you did your best and you interpreted and communicated abnormal findings, you assessed every patient without bias and documented everything you did. There were things you were unsure of, not having performed many skills while being assigned to Kylo, but you always asked for help, even though you realized it would be met with disgruntled aggravation after the first few times.

You had done everything right, understanding the consequences if you didn’t. As far as you were concerned, and even as much doubt as she’s caused you in the singular day you’ve known her, Silver was the problem. Not you.

And, not for nothing, the IV you missed earlier… not entirely your fault.

Kylo Ren picked the wrong day to Force-edge you. Or maybe it was you who really initiated the torture, but he’d been the one to follow through with his threat. Every hour had been memorable.

The first three had luckily occurred when you were away from patients but did earn you a few wary glances from the unit staff, your jaw set firm as you gave them a reassuring nod, hoping they couldn’t see how badly you were shaking as your cunt spasmed toward orgasm, but never got there.

There was something vicious in the rate at which he was forcing you toward the edge. Even though you couldn’t see or hear him, you felt like he was tormenting you with spite in mind rather than pleasure, like something you’d said or thought had angered him.

You didn’t have much time to consider that, though, as the hours went on and you’d begged the stars that the slick slipping from your center wouldn’t go past the hem of your dress. A few times you’d cursed the damned uniform, but quickly turned to cursing Kylo Ren for the ever-so-slightly too high hem. It’d surprised you that he never acted on those silent curses aimed at him, that it hadn’t earn you another hour riding the edge of pleasure while choking down the gasps and moans he’d surely intended to draw from you.

During lunch, you’d found a corner and ate alone, speaking to the wall and scorning Kylo under your breath, spitting empty threats, telling him to stop, to slow down. When that hadn’t worked and the Force picked up in pattern and pressure, nudging your clit just right, your hands had clamped around a plastic fork as you held on for dear life. He was nowhere near you and you’d almost cum four times over the course of your twenty-five-minute break. At that point, you’d considered begging him to let you cum, but part of you knew that would only lengthen his schemes.

Other times during shift, when Silver was rolling her eyes when you’d asked for her help, you’d felt the light, teasing lance of the Force trail along your neck. When you were priming tubing for a new admission, you’d felt the strange, unseen presence caress your ear like Kylo’s tongue might. And one hour, right after the previous had left you wondering if you’d be able to stand the next time you needed to – that hour where you’d traded your curses for pleading, traded the harshness you were spitting for the simple, hushed breaths you needed to outlast the never-ending torrent of pleasure he kept surging through you – the Force was kinder, something sentimental in the way it’d weighted your body like Kylo would, draped itself along your shoulders as sweat dried on your brow and the shaking of your legs settled.

A delicate, “Thank you,” had breathed over your lips when the Force – when Kylo’s teasing – seemed it would let up for the remainder of your shift.

But, of course, that peace had been temporary, a strategy to lapse your guard, to make you vulnerable when you’d most needed a clear mind and a steady hand. It had started with the gentle lulls you’d been left with, a stroking tendril swift over the column of your neck, the tourniquet tight to the patient’s arm as you poked their forearm in search of a vein. And when you informed Silver you’d found one, the Force deftly switched its attention to your pussy.

Silver had been scrutinizing you before, but when your shaking hand and short, shallow breaths appeared as fear instead of the pleasure they were born from, her brow had narrowed that much more. When you’d anchored the vein and aligned the needle – at her all-important fifteen-degree angle – your hand had shifted, jumped as your thighs tightened and you fought to trap a moan in your throat. It was an accident that the needle pierced the patient – and, worse, through the vein – at a greater angle, and it wrought you with emotion. Guilt for hurting the patient, shame for screwing up under Silver’s icy appraisal, and unyielding anger for Kylo Ren for causing your fuck up and not being able to explain that.

So here you were, taking the brunt of criticism and punishment for a mistake you wouldn’t have made had it not been for Kylo Ren, and studying your reflection in the scant light offered from the holo-chart of a patient you hadn’t known existed up until three minutes ago.

“Kylo,” you breathed, reaching for the second badge-scanner, “I can’t look bad here. The Board is watching. Hux is watching.” You glimpsed the radar fastened to your wrist, directing your tired eyes at Kylo’s indicator like he could feel your attention on him. “Give me this last hour and let me be good. Let me do well. Let me prove that I can to everyone who believes otherwise.”

A few seconds passed by as you waited for a reaction. Nothing came. The Force remained absent from you, and your shoulders dropped in relief. With a final glance at the chart, noting the patient’s identifier and checking it against the meal ticket, you swiped your badge and the entrance rushed open.

Darkness met you once more, but this darkness was heavier somehow. Not in the way untouched rooms are usually heavy – not with dust or grime – but a heaviness that clutched at your heart. It pressed into you, taunted you even as you remained a step outside the threshold. It was only shadows, unmoving and unremarkable darkness, but it clawed at you. It writhed at your feet and stirred your heart.

This was the darkness that lived behind each of those younglings’ eyes, but here it was concentrated, like this was the very source of it. Like this was its home.

“Hello?” you croaked, still not daring to pass into the shadow-thick room.

No answer, not even a stir. Nothing but that unyielding darkness.

You cleared your throat. “I, um, I have your dinner.” You took a small step forward. “Sorry for the wait… if there was one.”

More of the same. More of nothing.

A light switch entered your periphery with your next step, and you reached for it, but before you could flip it—

“If I wanted it on, do you think I’d be sitting in here like this?”

The voice was weak, small, but not that of a child. Not even that of an ill person, or an elderly one. It was male, though. Boyish, but not a boy’s. Somehow, the voice was young and old at the same time, as if the boy had lived long years already, and those years had worn him down.

The voice was a singular stream against the dark’s thick, silent wrath, and it was hollow, empty like the shadows before you should be. As the question ended, you found that it wasn’t bitterness or pain that lived in its tone, but rather a broken apathy, like whoever this was had cared and fought for so long but had ultimately lost in the end.

“Not that anyone here is really concerned about what I want,” came the voice again, an edge weighting its words.

Finally, you stepped completely into the room. You had to swallow a gasp when the entrance at your back locked shut. The tray jostled in your arms, but you succeeded at remaining upright.

With a sugary tone, you asked, “How will you eat if you can’t see your food?”

A huffed laugh, tired and bitter. “You should work on that nurse voice. Not very convincing.” A long, deep breath filled a few otherwise silent moments. “Send that tray back. Give it to someone who wants it.”

Without your “nurse voice”, you said, “Why did you order it—”

“—I didn’t. I never do. I’m being kept here, why would I want to sustain myself to make my stay that much longer?”

“Kept?” you whispered.

The longer you stood in place, the more your eyes adjusted. The room was still suffocated by the swamp of darkness, but there was some light after all. Scant, but there, a beam of the setting sun speared the room, and from what you had begun to make out of the body in front of you – a small form curled in the center of a bed – you found he was staring out of the broken blinds from which it came, like he was looking at something. Looking forsomething.

“Kept. Held prisoner. Restrained but not restrained because thatwould make this whole operation illegal, right? Whatever way you want to put it, I’ve made it obvious I don’t want to be here.” A long pause and a sad sigh. “Starvation is a better fate than most here, anyway.”

The more he spoke, the clearer it became that his voice wasn’t hollow, but burning with quiet fury. For what, you weren’t sure, but you realized this was the first patient who had spoken all day. And his tone, his words, only solidified the fact that there was something very, very wrong going on.

You walked closer to him, past the foot of his bed until you saw where the small slant of light was focused, what he continued to brokenly fawn over.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, leaning down so you could match your view with his.

He turned his head from the mostly covered window, the creak of light only possible through a bend in the blinds, and he looked at you, a flash of realization spreading through his features before he reined his expression into a void of dull emotion.

He stared at you as you stared at him, appraising you just the same. He was young, but it appeared as though his youth had been leeched from him. Long dark brunette curls framed his face and teased his shoulders, heavy with oil inherent of unkemptness. An immense sadness lived in the downturned state of his mouth, a contrasting anger set in the crease of his brow. And when you finally found his eyes, you restrained a shiver, as the deep hazel burned with that cleave of sun and struck you with the anvil of pain and desperation that lived in them.

He wasn’t alarmed at your proximity but confused. With a shaky voice, and something of a weak sneer biting at his mouth, he said, “You’re a sick, brutal cunt, you know that?”

“What? What do you—”

“What am I looking at? Do not patronize me!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Are you stupid or just cruel?”

“I’m not either, I—”

“You’re both!”

“I’m temporary! I don’t work here! I’ve been here for one shift! I’ve been on this planet for one day!”

Without missing a beat, but less heated and more restrained, the boy said, “Just stupid then.”

He continued to glare at you, but your eyes wandered back to the break in the blinds, and with narrowed eyes you found something that resembled a racing track. It was far out in the distance, but you knew that was what he had been focused on, sure of it by the way his demeanor shifted when you looked back down at him.

“Help me understand, then, if I am so stupid,” you whispered.

“You aren’t any different from the others, no matter if you’re temporary or not. Whatever that means, anyway.” The boy’s jaw set so firm you swore you heard it crack. “You don’t want to understand. If you did, if anyone cared so much, the Infirmary wouldn’t exist.”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Help me?” the boy barked. He considered you for a moment, sun and shadow warring across the hollows of his cheeks as he did. Those pained eyes narrowed a fraction. “Who are you? What does temporary mean?”

You leaned away from him, straightening your posture and setting his tray on a counter off to the side. You offered your name, just the first, and dragged an absent-minded finger over the embroidery of your uniform. “Temporary means…”

Perhaps it was his already non-existent trust in you, but you did not think that informing him of the real reason you were here – telling him that your license and life were on the line and you were here so the Board of Physicians would have ease in their decision to end your life or not – would do much to foster his confidence in you, you took a second to frame it in a way that would appeal to him.

Clearing your throat, you kept his stare and said, “Temporary means that I’m here for less than two weeks, and I have no loyalties to any staff here. Temporary means that I do care so much, and I do want to help because temporary also means that I’ve seen some weird shit today, and I don’t understand it.” The boy’s brows raised for a fragmented second, but you knew you’d gained at least a small portion of his respect, so you continued.

With a lowered voice and an unbreakable stare, you said, “Temporary means that I am on your side, and if you let me, if you help me to understand what is going on, I will help you as best as I can.”

The boy shifted, ringing a hand around his opposite wrist, toying with the identification band secured there. He never stopped looking into your eyes, and you knew he was searching for deceit, but the longer he stared, the more he came up short.

You offered him your hand, observing how he flinched away from it, but keeping it extended as he considered it for another few moments.

“I told you who I am. Will you tell me who you are?”

It seemed like the darkness that surrounded you was watching with bated breath, watching in awe as the boy’s gaze remained on your extended hand.

He swallowed, and ever so slowly, with a hesitation that struck through your heart, he lifted his hand and clasped it around yours. The light from the broken blinds coiled around your matched hands, and for the first time today, you felt hopeful. And no matter how dim and breathless it was, a flicker of that same hopefulness played through his eyes.

“I…” the boy hesitated, so you squeezed his hand and offered a reassuring nod. His shoulders relaxed with his next breath. “I am Quynnland. With a ‘Y’.”

“Quynnland,” you parroted, trying it out and letting his hand go. “Do you have any nicknames? Like Quynn? Quynnie?”

“No one calls me Quynnie!” he roared. “Nobody calls me that except…” Quynnland shifted in bed, away from you, turning his face back toward that racing track. His bottom lip quivered, and he appeared as if you’d just lashed him with molten plasma.

“Quynnland,” you soothed, “nobody calls you that except who?”

He remained quiet, but he shuddered, and you saw the light glint off a stream that found its way down the slate of his cheek.

“I want to understand. I want to help you.” You swallowed against your throat, which had become markedly thicker since you last spoke. “Please, help me help you.”

Quynnland’s chin rose, his eyes fell shut, and he balled his hands into tight fists. He wasn’t angry, but in pain, and you knew from the sight of how broken he was that he’d been in pain for a long time now. Perhaps, it seemed, he had never known a day without it.

Just when you were about to speak, Quynnland coughed against a sob and whispered, “They won’t let me see him. He’s there on his own. He’s never been alone for this long.” A tight breath whipped into his chest. “They’re keeping me here so I age out. They’re keeping me away from him.”

“Who is he? What are you aging out of?” The more he offered, the more questions you thought of.

“I almost got us out this time,” he whispered. “I almost saved us both, but they caught me and dragged me away from him. He’s young, but that never stopped them before.” A wheeze of pain slipped from Quynnland’s lips. “They probably broke him just enough so he could still work.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you kept quiet.

After what seemed like an eternity, Quynnland spoke again. “My brother. That’s who gets to call me ‘Quynnie’. That’s who I tried to save, and that’s who is suffering because I failed.” He pushed an aggravated sound from his lungs. “The only way you can help me, is if you help him.”

“How do I do that?” you asked, watching as his fists relaxed at his sides.

Quynnland opened his eyes and bore the full weight of their pain into yours. He took a long breath and squared his jaw. “You get him away from the wardens, and then you get him out.”

“Where is he?” you asked, needing to know what that racing track he kept glancing toward was.

He went to answer, but a rush of motion sounded beyond his door, and just as quickly, the entrance to his room shot open. Quynnland ducked his head and balled his fists, and you turned to see that it was Silver who stood in his doorway. She wore an unfamiliar face, one of shock and terror, and you went to speak, but her hand whipped out and signaled that you would notbe saying a word until you left this room.

She stared at Quynnland a moment longer, surveying him like she’d never seen him before. “Eat your dinner. I won’t have you starving to death under my license, not now that this will be your last stay here.” Silver more so talked at him rather than directly to him, and her tone was hard and full of disgust.

It gave you another reason to hate her.

You wanted to reach out and take Quynnland’s hand, but Silver snapped at you before you could. “You,” she sneered. “Out. Now.”

The ice behind her eyes had seeped to her tongue, and her words froze the very blood in your veins. She watched you as you stepped around her and into the antechamber, and you glanced the final withering, aghast glare she shot at Quynnland as you did.

When you reached toward the door that opened to the hall, Silver caught your wrist just before your badge met it. She was eerily silent for a moment, and you swore she was practically shaking with rage, but then she settled herself and stared down at you with such concentrated antagonization that it knocked the breath right from your lungs.

“What made you think you could go into this room? I never went near this room with you today. Why would you be allowed to enter it alone?” She was seething, but she hid it behind something of a gnarled smile.

“There was a tray just sitting outside, unattended to. I figured I would find something to do and deliver it to the patient. No harm done.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes on you. “Are you aware what this patient is here for?” she asked sweetly, but it came off as clear condescension.

Silver waited for you to answer, but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction she wanted from humiliating you again. So you remained silent, and she sneered at you. “Exactly what I thought. So why would you interact with a patient you know nothing about? And did the double security not tip you off that you were somewhere you shouldn’t be?”

“Look, Silver,” you huffed, enjoying the disgust that smeared across her features as you said her name, “I saw a tray. I had nothing better to do. My badge had access to the room. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She cast you an undying glare, and her eye twitched when she gave you a once-over. “This patient willfully tried to kill himself and his brother last week. Did he tell you that?”

Your heart blackened, and your ears rang with silence as she let her words sink in.

Silver was pleased with your shocked silence. She went on. “Oh, and did he tell you just how many times he’s tried to do this exact thing in the past?” You remained wordless, feeling betrayed for reasons you couldn’t understand. “No? Not even a guess? Well, he’s a unit regular, if that gives any indication.”

She waited again and was once more elated to be met with silence. “It’s the same story every time. The wardens say he takes his kid brother to the shore and plans on swimming out to the Falls and either drowning to death or dying from impact.”

You swallowed in vain, mouth drier than sand. A part of your knew you didn’t want the answer, but you still asked, “How old… how old is his brother?”

A sick, deathly smile creaked across her perfect face. “Of course, we don’t know exactly, but previous scans estimate that he’s no older than seven.”

Seven. A child. Quynnland had tried to kill his brother… had tried to kill himself and his kid brother…

“Next time, don’t poke around business you don’t understand,” Silver cut your panic short, her frigid tone icing your skin with gooseflesh. “Your shift is up.”

She shoved your shoulder on her way past, but before she could activate the door the room filled with bright red light, and a shrill alarm screamed through the ruby darkness.

It was your watch.

Endless, screeching notes sounded from your wrist. Your stomach dropped, and you couldn’t think for a moment, completely thrown back to that last hour on Starkiller Base.

Kylo was in trouble. Kylo was hurt. Kylo needed you and you weren’t there.

When you lifted your arm as your heart sank through the floor and you read the continuous scrawling message, your feet pounded the ground and carried you away from the unit to wherever he was, wherever your radar was guiding you.

All you could think of was him lying under you, his blood slipping along your skin, and his still, comatose body. And as you made your way to him, not seeing the world around you, hardly aware of CB-7070’s footfalls booming behind you, you kept rereading the message that raced along your watch’s screen, and as you turned corner after corner and fled down hundreds of steps and staircases, the simple, abbreviated message taunted you with the past.

ASSISTANCE REQUIRED ASSISTANCE REQUIRED ASSISTANCE REQUIRED

As it scrawled endlessly across the small screen, all you could think of was how this felt too familiar to the day Starkiller exploded. And the only thought that remained, the only one out of the thousand that flooded back from that day, was that you would fight for the future you’d realized you wanted then.

Only now did you admit the full truth of that thought: the only future you wanted was one where you could be with Kylo. The only future worth having, you realized, was the one where you would spend it with him.

So you ran toward your future. Just as you had run that day not so long ago, you ran toward Kylo Ren.

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 4/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: The second meeting goes unexpectedly, once again, as Gold reveals more than he intends.

Notes: Thank you so much for all the comments on this fic. I honestly thought it wouldn't be that well received as this Gold is sort of hard to like in places. I'm really enjoying writing this darker version of him, even if it's hard at times to get into his headspace. Enjoy the first of many Skin Deep references, and a slight tick up towards the ultimate rating of this fic. ;) This is the nightie Belle is wearing. Also omg this is unbeta'd and a hot mess, sorry.

[AO3]

If Belle thought that seeing Mr. Gold in the week leading up to her first evening at his house was awkward, then the week after it was excruciating.

All she could think every time she so much as saw him walking by on the street was he’s seen me in my underwear! It made for several days of fierce blushes and unfinished lunches. Her mind kept replaying the moment when she’d turned around to face him again, and he’d let the softest, quietest lovely slip out. She still hadn’t figured out if he’d even meant to say it out loud. It was hard to believe that seeing her in a glorified nightgown had rendered Gold that speechless, especially given how well known he was for having a sharp tongue. She’d witnessed him giving Keith Nottingham a dressing down last summer, right outside the mechanics shop where Keith worked. Even though Keith was well over six feet tall and clearly worked out, Gold made him seem tiny, almost insignificant.

She grinned at the memory.

Keith was a jerk in every sense of the word, and Gold verbally tearing him a new asshole was the least that he deserved. But that was the kind of presence Gold had in the town; the mayor, the sheriff, the district attorney, they all acquiesced to him. Rumors said he had dirt on everyone, that nothing happened within thirty miles of the town line that he didn’t know about. She wondered sometimes whether that was part of why he’d made this deal with her, so that he would know something about her as well, so that he could have that control.

The thought was not comforting, but it was confusing. In theory, she had as much on Gold as he did on her in this situation. In fact, her position would seem far more sympathetic, if embarrassing, and if anyone did find out - god fucking forbid - she highly doubted they would take Gold’s side. It wasn’t the same as whatever he knew about Albert Spencer or Regina Mills, that made them go white as a ghost whenever Gold hinted at it under his breath.

So what the hell was his motivation?

Belle sighed, and regarded herself in the mirror. She’d left the library right on time, and decided that tonight she wouldn’t shower before going to Gold’s. It was a waste of time if every Thursday evening she was going to come home feeling the need to do it again. Instead she sat down to touch up her makeup and hair out of some odd desire to look as nice as possible. It was another one of the things that confused her. She should have said the hell with it, and not cared if her hair needed a good brushing, or if her lipstick had worn off. Yet she did. She cared how she looked, and for as much as Gold was paying her, she figured he might care too.

Last night she’d even put polish on her toenails, a light, shimmery pink, and gave herself a mini pedicure. If she was going to be barefoot again, then that was part of the package too. She’d look as pretty as she could, head to toe - literally, and that way if Gold let anything else slip out, then perhaps he might have reason to mean it.

Belle arrived at Mr. Gold’s house perfectly on time.

Her knock sounded at exactly one minute till seven, she’d checked her phone as she came up the front sidewalk to make sure, and the door opened right as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed the top of the hour.

“Miss French.” Gold’s mouth curved as he gave her a brief, appraising look before stepping back to allow her inside. “Right on time tonight.”

The first thing that she noticed was the bold, pink dress shirt beneath his pinstripe suit. She had noticed a while ago that he preferred a splash of color in his wardrobe, which was usually done through a striking tie or pocket square, but everyone once in a while there was something unexpected; last week it had been his checkered shirt, this week it was a brilliant pink. There was an eccentricity to his style that she appreciated. He appeared very reserved in his manner and dress, yet these little touches reflected something else entirely, something that kept people guessing.

Once again she caught a hint of something from the kitchen, tomatoes and garlic and something spicy. Spaghetti sauce, she assumed, and she made a happy noise, inhaling the mouthwatering scent as Gold once again took her coat and hung it up.

“Well, now I’m even hungrier,” she said. “Does it always smell delicious in here?”

He frowned. “You haven’t eaten?”

Bell shrugged. “Didn’t want to eat and then try on clothes, you know?”

He let out a gumbling hum and motioned for her to go ahead of him. “I assume you know where things are?”

She nodded and stopped by the door to the powder room. “Yup.”

“I need to finish cleaning up,” he said, moving past her and into the short hallway to the kitchen. “Will be just a moment.”

As soon as he turned his back, she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Her stomach was a mess, unable to decide between hunger pangs and the same vaguely nauseous feeling as last week. She set her purse in the same place on the set of shelves set beside the sink, and slipped off her shoes. She was more than halfway undressed, trousers off and blouse completely unbuttoned, before she thought to look at what Gold had put out for her, and stopped.

The nightie hung on the same padded hanger on the back of the door, looking delicate and pretty and oddly foreboding. It was a light, rosy pink and made of a stretchy cotton blend that was more practical than it was sexy, as was the little robe that went with it, but what her eyes were fixed on was the plunging neckline covered in lace. She swallowed and turned away, letting her blouse fall over her shoulders to catch at her wrists. The chemise from last week was the most unrevealing and basic thing she had, she’d known that, but knowing what else there was to be worn and seeing it hanging in front of her were two different things.

Reaching back, she unhooked her bra and then drew it down before hanging it over one of the posts framing the shelves along with her blouse. Turning back to the door, she took the nightie off the hanger and blanched when she saw the panties beneath it, dangling from one of those metal clips made to hold skirts or pants in place. Her eyes closed and she took a slow breath.

A beat later, she slipped the nightie over her head.

The skirt of it fell just to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her in the front and back, much shorter than what she’d worn last week which was as long as some of her dresses. This was undeniably sexual, meant to tease, and suddenly she was glad there was matching underwear to put on beneath it. She shoved her navy blue pair down and then took them off to lay folded on her trousers. The sensation was strange, so she quickly pulled on the matching panties, and then faced herself in the mirror.

The nightie clipped in the back like a bra, just under where the straps criss-crossed, and it took her a moment to adjust everything to where it needed to be. The cups were soft and lined, giving her breasts a little more coverage than the black silk did, for which she was grateful, although the deep dip in the front showed off just how much cleavage she didn’t have. The panties were the same soft cotton blend as the rest of it, with matching lace at the waist that stretched without digging into anything.

On the whole, now that she had it all on, it didn’t feel so bad. She had a sundress with the same sort of straps and clasp in the back, and aside from the length of the skirt it wasn’t that different. All in all it was actually comfortable enough to sleep in during the summer, she thought, which was sort of why she’d bought it in the first place. It made her wonder if Gold was going in some kind of order, working his way up to what he thought was the most risque and scandalous.

The robe was still on the hanger and she eyed it for a few seconds, trying to decide if she should put it on or not. It was part of what she’d purchased, and Gold had put it out with the nightie, but donning another layer meant she’d probably have to take it off. It was going to be a bit difficult to model the nightie if it was covered up with something else, but given how chilled she’d been last time, she thought she could get away with wearing it at least for a few minutes.

Sighing, she tied the sash of the robe at her waist and then eased open the door to peek into the hallway. Gold was still in the kitchen, if the clang of a pot being set in the sink was anything to go by, so she stepped out and hurried into the study. The doors were closed again, the fire roaring even bigger than last time, and she started to smile. It seemed he might have noticed that she was cold and made accommodations. It was strangely thoughtful, much as his invite to have dinner was, and she struggled to know what to make of all of it.

There was another noise from the kitchen, so she closed the doors quietly, and gave the room a more thorough going over. She’d been so nervous last time that all she’d noticed was the general layout of the room. Assuming she had a few minutes until Gold joined her, she took a leisurely stroll around the space, her eyes scanning all the shelves and walls filled with pieces from Gold’s various collections.

The china cabinet opposite Gold’s chair was lit up this time with two small lights mounted above the top shelf. Belle came to stand in front of it, attracted by the light glinting unusually off of something inside. Her eyes went wide when she saw each shelf was full. Two vases sat on the bottom with an ornate oil lamp between them, dishes painted with landscape scenes, a silver tray beside an array of delicate crystal figurines, and on the top shelf, just at her eye level was the strangest tea set she’d ever seen.

Thin white porcelain had been adorned with flowers, painted in such great detail and outlined in such a way that they looked three dimensional, as though they had been plucked out of a garden. They looked so delicate that the petals might fall free if they were touched, but each cup and saucer as well as the pot and the tray it sat on looked as if they had been broken into a hundred pieces and glued back together with liquid gold.

“Kintsugi.”

Gold’s voice startled Belle, and she backed away from the cabinet as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“What?”

His lips curved as he took a leisurely step towards her. “Kintsugi,” he repeated. “That’s what they call it.”

She looked from him to the tea set and back again, until he was standing next to her. “Kint - kintsu-gi?”

He nodded. “It means golden repair in Japanese, the art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold dust.”

Her eyes widened. “Gold dust? Like actual gold?” He gave another nod, and she shook her head, shifting her gaze back to the cabinet, following one of the lines of gold as it trailed from the rim of a cup down through a red rose and over to meet another line that encircled the handle. “Sounds expensive.”

“But beautiful,” added Gold.

Their eyes met in the mirrored back of the cabinet, and Belle held her breath until he looked away and went on to explain how he came to find the set. It had been packed in newspaper in a cardboard box, set inside a bigger box marked FREE at an estate sale in Vermont. Most of the pieces were already broken or chipped in some way, but there were a few books he was interested in at the very bottom so he bought the entire lot. Months later, he came across the box again in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and had the idea to try his hand at repairing it in this way.

“So, you made this?” she asked, unable to suppress the surprise and wonder in her voice.

“Aye,” he said. His voice was low and very close to her ear, and she gripped the knot of the robe tightly. “I fixed all the bits that were already broken, filled in missing pieces with things I had laying around, and smoothed all the jagged edges with extra lacquer.”

Belle shook her head slowly. She couldn’t imagine the patience and care it must have taken to create something so unique and beautiful, particularly when it was incomplete. It was - pleasing, wonderful even, and once again she was struck by the strange dichotomy that was Storybrooke’s Mr. Gold.

“Is it - I mean can you actually, um, use it? Once it’s like this?”

He nodded, smiling crookedly. “The lacquer is made from the sap of a very specific tree, and the gold is dusted over it while it’s still wet and sealed inside, and once it’s all done and hardened, it’s perfectly safe to drink from. I’ve personally used that cup there.”

He pointed to the very cup Belle had been admiring, the one with the fine line splitting the red rose in two, and she smiled. “You made so much beauty out of something so broken.”

“Even chipped cups have some use, don’t they?”

His question surprised her, and she looked over to find him watching her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “I think,” she said, “that in this case the best teacup is chipped.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and abruptly, he turned and crossed the room to the same chair he’d taken before. Belle blew out a slow breath, her mind spinning and struggling to wrap itself around the sudden shift from their conversation to the purpose of her being here. It was as if her reply had struck a nerve, but she wasn’t sure how.

She heard the creak of the leather as he sat, and after a long moment, she turned away from the china cabinet and its precious contents, and walked to the end of the ottoman. She licked her lips as her hands went to the knot of her robe, and lifted her eyes to his. The end of the sash pulled free easily, the pressure on her waist releasing as the two sides of the robe slid open. She swore she heard his breath hitch, the slight little hiccup and inhale of air, but he otherwise remained completely still as she shrugged her shoulders, sending the robe shimmying down her arms.

It landed on the ottoman behind her with a muted wisp, and she took another step forward. The edge of the nightie brushed her thighs, reminding her of how short it was, and she felt a heat that wasn’t from the fire creep up her neck. She bit her lip as her hands came up to her stomach and then dropped to her sides, unsure of what to do with them.

Gold meanwhile was just staring dazedly at her. His head lolled slightly to one side and then straightened, as one might when observing the way the light illuminated a work of fine art. The thought was absurd, and she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against the lace.

“Mr. Gold?” she asked softly. “Would you - would you like a drink?”

The question brought him out of the odd trance he’d been in, and he shifted in his seat before meeting her eyes. “Yes, a scotch please, Miss French.”

She turned and made her way around the end of the ottoman, crossing between it and the fireplace, feeling his eyes on her all the way to the bar. She was so grateful to be out of the heat for a minute that even the cold floor felt nice on her feet. For some reason the room was much warmer tonight than it had been last night, and she thought maybe she should say something about finding a happy medium.

Drink in hand, she walked back to stand closer to his chair, and held it out for him. He lifted his hand from where it was resting to take the glass by the bottom, keeping a sliver of a distance between where her fingers were around the rim and his. In doing so, he caught the hem of the nightie, and when he pulled the glass away and raised it to his lips, the hem went with it. It lifted slightly, just enough to feel a light flutter of air against her legs when it settled back into place. She stepped back immediately, conscious of the fact that it may have been enough for him to glimpse the matching panties underneath.

A shiver washed over her despite the flushing of her face, and she crossed her arms over her middle, her upper arms pushing her breasts together. Gold’s eyes dipped down, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip, just before he touched the glass to his mouth. She caught herself pressing her thighs together unconsciously as he sipped and swallowed, and took another step back until a blast of warmth from the fire made her stop.

“Thank you,” Gold said simply.

His expression was blank, as if nothing had occurred between them at all, and she knew that she was once again dismissed. Once again the abrupt change in his demeanor unsettled her, but she couldn’t give voice to any of the questions in her head. Instead, she gave him a short nod, and moved to leave, pausing to snatch up the robe before she all but ran from the study.

The bathroom was like an odd little oasis when Belle returned to it. She sighed at the cool air wrapping around her, calming her heated skin, and leaned back against the closed door, breathing slowly. The kintsugi, the conversation, the way he looked at her, she could make no sense of it. Whatever this was about for him, she couldn’t keep letting it affect her. She had to think of this weird arrangement as a job, nothing more. It was something she was doing for money - a lot of money, mind - but a paycheck all the same.

She blew out a breath and changed back into her clothes, deciding to leave the lingerie on the hanger again. If he wanted her to keep the items, then he could say so. She was tired of guessing his reasons and desires for any of this.

Gold was waiting for her when she opened the powder room door. He was standing with his cane, leaning a bit to the side as if he had to put most of his weight on it to keep himself upright, and holding a glass storage container with a plastic lid. She frowned at it as she lifted her purse strap onto her shoulder, and then looked up at him.

“For you,” he said, holding the container out for her to take.

Her eyes darted down to the offering as she reached for it hesitantly. “Okay...?”

“It’s lasagna. That’s - that’s what I made for dinner. I thought since you hadn’t eaten...” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Belle took the container from his hand and stared down at the lid. She could see a large square of something inside, with hints of red and creamy white. The scent of food still lingered in the air, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Gold let out a soft, short laugh, and shook his head. “It’s still warm, sort of, but I recommend putting the container in the oven and letting it come up to 350. That should heat it through.” He folded his hands over the handle of his cane, and then added, “With the lid off, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated. Confused as to why he was giving her food, but pleased she wouldn’t have to make anything when she got home, she lifted her eyes to him. “Um, thanks.”

“No matter.”

He followed her to the door, holding her coat for her once more, and then bid her good night.

The walk home was comfortably cool, but smelling of fresh lasagna the entire way.

By the time Belle reached the door of her apartment, she was starving and had determined that this time the vague feeling of nauseous indigestion was from lack of food rather than anything that had transpired with Gold. He had been a gentleman about nearly everything, except for whatever those accidental brushes had been, and he cooked like he should have his own restaurant. The small touches were clearly accidental, and the odd sensation that came over this evening was easily ignored. If he did it again, she might consider saying something or changing her tactic of fetching his drink, but for now it was certainly more tolerable than half of the dates she’d had.

Garrett would have had his hand up her skirt in minutes, which was a thought that made her entire body cringe now that their relationship has ended so spectacularly.

As strange as it might seem, she was more intrigued by Gold than disturbed or repulsed. The story of the tea set was charming, and the fact that the person who could remake some useless, broken bits into something so pretty was the same as the person who offered her a deal to parade around his study in lingerie, left her head spinning. She wanted to know how that was possible, and thought that perhaps over the next few weeks she might find out.

He seemed perfectly willing to talk to her, revealing small clues here and there, but once he realized he had, he tried to close up again. She supposed some of that was part of how he maintained his enigmatic personality within the town, yet there was also the possibility that no one had ever bothered to take an interest in him before. Maybe he had no idea how to deal with that, maybe he had some of the same anxieties about social situations as she did, though in her case it had somehow turned into a peculiar ability to make friends easily. In his case it kept people at arm's length, much the same as his prim, fitted suits and colorful shirts portrayed a baffling combination.

She put the container of lasagna, sans lid, in the oven as instructed, and left it to warm up while she took a shower. This evening she didn’t feel dirty or uncomfortable, it was just the end of a long day and she was more than ready for a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. The lasagna was, as expected, fantastic. The cheese wasn’t too thick or stringy, and the mozzarella had been mixed with something else that gave it a sharper, more aged flavor. In place of plain ground beef he’d used some kind of sausage that was just spicy enough to leave a lingering heat behind, but not too much that it burned, and the notes of fennel blended well the spice. He had been heavy on the fresh garlic and basil as well, which were probably her favorite parts. She was prone to using a bit too much of them herself, and she smiled as she shoved the last forkful in her mouth.

She contemplated asking him to add dinner to the deal, but that would make the whole arrangement feel like something it wasn’t. They weren’t dating, they weren’t friends; it was just a weird business transaction, needs and wants.

She needed money, and he was providing. Though what Gold wanted from any of it would likely remain a mystery.

Gold leaned back in his chair as he savored the last bit of his second glass of scotch.

Belle had been less nervous this time, perhaps because he’d spoken to her about the tea set. He hadn’t intended to do so, but the way she was looking at it was - indescribable, like the way she might look at a painting or sculpture by one of the old masters, with a kind of curious awe. What she’d said about the chipped cup was incidental, he knew it was not some kind of metaphor or anything, even if restoring the set had been far more personal for him than he’d let on. She seemed quite pleased with his story, and he wondered idly what she might say if he put it up for sale in his shop. Would she want to buy it? Would she use the money he’d paid her to have it?

If he closed his eyes, he knew he would be able to recall the moment perfectly, the soft flutter of the rosy fabric as it fell from her arms, exposing more beneath it. The brief brush of those fingers against her, the hint of the lacy panties hiding under the skirt, the same precious pink as the rest of it, made him shiver. He didn’t think she’d noticed, or if she had maybe she had assumed it was an accident. It was, partially, but instead of pulling away when he’d realized what he’d done, he’d continued, waiting to see if she would move first. She hadn’t; he didn’t know what that meant.

The nightie had a teasing, innocent look to it, but it bared more than it covered. He’d gotten an eyeful of her skin, so creamy and soft looking, supple if it were pressed, and flushed the prettiest pink in the warmth of the room. He wondered how else he might make her blush like that, and shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs as his own skin prickled with heat. He raised his hand, touching the fingertips that had touched her so briefly to his lips as his other hand moved to his waist, adjusting the pressure of his trousers and belt.

She had looked so beautiful tonight. Truthfully, she always did, but there was something about having her here, in his sanctuary, that made so much keener. A tingling throb twitched between his legs, and he gave in and pressed his palm to the front of his trousers, running the heel of it up and down his rapidly hardening cock. He couldn’t touch her again like that, couldn’t cross that line, no matter how much the image of her bare thighs tormented him.

Sighing, he forced his hand back to the arm of the chair and breathed slowly until his body calmed. As much as he wanted to take himself in hand and call to mind one of any number of fantasies, that was another line he couldn’t let himself cross. He was the monster they all said he was, in every way but that.

After a few minutes, Gold pushed to his feet, ignoring the lingering flush that crept up his neck and the ache low in his belly as he headed upstairs for another chilling shower.

( This is kintsugi. It's one of my favorite things and someday I too will have a tea set like in this fic. )

[thotful-writing]

Descending into Darkness (3)

Summary: Delayed gratification only works when there is eventual gratification.

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Choking, wound play, PIV (finally), spitting

A/N: The real fun begins after this chapter. I just needed to get some stuff out of the way before going hard. Enjoy!

Fold, fold, tuck, and flip. Repeat. Fold, fold, tuck, and flip. Repeat. You focused on nothing more than the routine, pushing out any thoughts that crept in while you folded Kylo’s clothes. He was particular and you were eager for the distraction. It had been a full week since he’d kissed you or even touched you for that matter. Which made you conflicted. On one hand, you weren’t being used as a hole to stuff his cock into, and on the other hand, you weren’t being used as a hole to stuff his cock into. Every time you let your mind wander it never failed to stroll back to the way his lips felt against yours, how perfectly his tongue slipped into your mouth and when he pressed himself against you, letting you feel-

“Pet.” His tone was short and made you jump.

You wondered if there would ever be a time where you weren’t startled by him every second of every day. You hurried out of his room to see him brooding and pacing by the door, the latter was normal for him but not the other. For the time you’d known him he didn’t often pace, especially not anxiously as he seemed to be doing. The realization hit you that if he was anxious about something, then you should be too.

“Sir?” You said hesitantly.

“There’s been an… incident in one of the elevators.”

You could only assume the cause of the incident in question was him, but what was his weapon of choice? Helmet, fists, lightsa-

“Enough. You’re going to fix it.” He silenced your thoughts with a glare.

“Sir, I-I’ve… I haven’t worked on First Order tech before, I know I’ve been researching but I’m nowhere near proficient enough to-“

In two easy strides he was in front of you, his gloved hand around your throat as a warning, “your usefulness has just about run out.”

He made no effort to explain further or give you another option. He wasn’t using you like before and you’d basically fallen into the role of his maid for the last week, but you still weren’t confident you could repair an elevator alone.

“Why me? Surely someone else would be more qualified?”

“Because I paid for you and I’d like to get some use out of you. And I’d rather not use First Order resources when you so eloquently offered to repair anything I destroyed when we first met.” He snapped and tightened his grip.

“O-Okay...” You nodded quickly, still completely disarmed by him.

You followed him down one of the corridors, having no other choice and struggling to keep up. He seemed more on edge than before, if that was even possible. You wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he hadn’t taken his frustrations out on you in a week and also why that was. He made a slight grunt, which you could only assume was in response to your thoughts. Using your newly found skill, that actually shouldn’t have been that hard to discover, you focused on his steps and narrating your path in your mind as you walked.

Left, step, step, step, right, straight, heavier step, slight turn at the end. Following Kylo… sir… master… down the hall, going to fix the elevator panel that he- that spontaneously broke. Master sighed. He’s annoyed with my narration. Maybe I should stop? Or should I-

“Stop.” He effectively answered your question just as you arrived at your destination.

The elevator was already decommissioned with the doors opened. You stepped inside and looked around at the destruction, a little bit in awe at the sheer brute force that was on display before you. The main face plate was smashed in and the wires beneath were barely intact. A slight touch and the face plate fell to the floor with a clang. You looked back at Kylo and did your best to silence any thoughts you were having.

“You’ll find everything you need in there.” He pointed to a metal container on the floor, “I’ll return in a few hours to check your work.”

“I’m- You’re leaving me here? Alone?” It was difficult to hide the slight panic in your voice.

It wasn’t that you wanted a babysitter, but Kylo wasn’t the only threat lurking around the ship.

“You expect me to stand here and watch you? No.”

“What if someone tries to bother me or-“

Without warning Kylo had you pinned back against the far wall of the elevator; hand splayed across your chest. His gaze was fixed on you as he held you perfectly still.

“No one touches you and you speak to no one.” He said as if they were your unwritten rules.

“Y-Yes, sir.” You confirmed.

He flexed his fingers against your chest before pulling away, “don’t leave the elevator until I return.”

You nodded and remained with your back pressed against the wall. A soft sigh escaped your lips as he headed back down the corridor. He was too intense, even a normal question evoked a threat from him, but the worst part was how he was beginning to affect you. A craving had settled between your thighs that seemed to be constant. Every time he spoke to you or touched you, it only grew, and the fact that he’d backed off recently made it even worse.

The metal container at your feet was filled with just about every tool you could think of, even another data pad, which you’d need. You grabbed the product code from the back of the crushed face plate and searched the data pad for schematics and some kind of manual. The best it came up with was a general layout of what it should look like. You held the data pad up and looked at the actual open board, realizing they looked nothing alike because one had a Kylo-sized fist dent in it. Your first task was to remove some of the wiring, which would be highly dangerous because there still seemed to be power routing through the elevator to keep the lights on. But you had no choice and you weren’t about to let electrocution deter you from pleasing your master.

You grabbed one of the secured ends, keeping your fingers away from the frayed wires, and unclipped it from the motherboard. Your hand trembled as you worked, knowing it was only a matter of time before you electrocuted yourself and died in the elevator without even getting the opportunity to be fucked by Kylo Ren. Which should’ve been a crime.

Images of Kylo doing unspeakable things with his mouth started to flood your mind, which proved to be a distraction. Your finger slipped and you touched one of the live wires.

“Shit!” You cried out, feeling the jolt zap through your finger and up your arm.

Your entire body buzzed with a current that made your teeth chatter as you scooted back from the source.

“You okay?” A voice came from behind, almost startling you more than the shock did.

You turned around to see a young officer standing in the doorway to the elevator. If there was a description for most First Order members, it would be stoic, bitter, sullen, devoid of any signs of life behind their eyes. This man didn’t fit any of those descriptors. His eyes were kind, soft, a genuinely concerned expression etched across his face.

“Ye-“ You snapped your hand over your mouth and nodded.

The last thing you needed was for Kylo to root around in your mind and find out you spoke to someone else just an hour after he told you not to.

He reached for your injured hand, which you quickly jerked away from him before he could touch you.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a doctor. Well, doctor adjacent, but I can still check a wound.” He took another step towards you, but you backed up against the wall.

He stepped back, “maybe it would help if you knew me a little better. My name’s Fent, I’m usually stationed on the Supremacy, but I transferred back to the Finalizer last week. Can you tell me who you are?”

You chewed on your lip, your anxiety distracting you from the burning in your fingertips. You couldn’t just remain silent; he might think something was wrong and try to take you to get checked out.

“Kylo Ren’s.” You said softly.

His expression changed from concerned to confused, then to almost as scared as you were.

“Oh, I see.” He looked back down the corridor as if he was looking for Kylo.

“I’d still like to take a look at those fingers for you.” He moved towards you again, holding his hand out.

You hesitantly outstretched your hand towards him, trembling, worried that Kylo would walk up at any moment and kill both of you. The tips of your index and middle fingers were red, sure to blister.

“You really should’ve been wearing gloves. And rerouted the power from this panel.” He held your hand in his, turning it to see the extent of the damage.

“I wasn’t fully prepared for the job when I started it.”

“Good news is you won’t lose the fingers, but we should go to the med-bay to let the repair droids-“

You quickly pulled your hand away from his, “no, I can’t- I have to stay here.”

Even though you already broke two of Kylo’s rules, you really didn’t want to go for a third strike by leaving the elevator.

“Alright, at least let me dress it for you?” He was weirdly accommodating to you without further question.

“Okay, but quickly.” You nodded and held your hand out.

He reached into the bag that hung across his shoulder and pulled out a few supplies. You watched him work as he treated your burns, touching you softly and working as quickly as he could. It was a change in pace to the roughness Kylo treated you to. You immediately chastised yourself for the thought but realized Fent couldn’t read your mind. He had no idea what you were thinking.

“All done.” He smiled and released your hand.

“Thank you. I should get back to work.”

“Be careful. Maybe cut the power source before you touch anymore wires?” He suggested with a wink.

“Will do.” You nodded.

You returned to your task, first using the data pad to find the cut off switch for the panel. While you finished your work, you tried to forget about Fent, the last thing you needed was for Kylo to hear you thinking about the gentle, handsome, kind officer that held your hand and dressed your burns for you.

By the time you were done, the bent-up face plate was still amess, but you’d rerouted the wires around the fist sized hole and replaced the motherboard. It wasn’t perfect, but the elevator would at least be operational again. It was still odd that he requested for you to fix it when there were several technicians employed by the First Order who could probably repair it without almost dying. You began cleaning up your tools when you heard the telltale signs of his return, heavy steps across the sleek floors of the corridor. Your heart pounded as he neared, anxiety flooding your body.

“Finished?” He glanced over at your work.

“Yes, sir.” You kept your wounded hand dropped to your side, hiding it from him to avoid questions.

“Come.” He turned and headed back down the hall.

You left everything there and sped up to catch up with him. You fidgeted with the bandages around your fingers, pulling at one of the threads that stuck out. It took all of your focus to keep your mind on anything other than your hand while you followed him back to his quarters. It was more difficult than you thought it would be, but you decided to focus on everything you needed to finish when you returned. There were still a few things that needed to be cleaned and you didn’t get to finish folding his clean linens.

The door opened with a whir and you followed him inside, putting your hands behind your back as you planned your path directly to the bathroom. Before you could take two steps past the door, he shoved you back against the wall.

“You’re trying.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Trying what, sir?” You looked up at him confused.

“You’re trying too hard to keep your thoughts from me. Why?”

You shook your head and swallowed hard, “I’m not. I’m trying the normal amount that I always do.”

A pressure crept into your head as he held his hand up closer to your face, now he was the one trying harder. He dropped his hand instantly and snatched your wrist out from behind your back, eyes fixed on the bandaged fingers.

“What’s this?” He cut his eyes up at you as his hand squeezed your wrist.

“N-Nothing. I touched a wire by accident and had to bandage my fingers.” You hoped he wouldn’t push further.

Kylo brought his other hand up and held it just over your two fingers, “I know you’re lying. I could easily take it from you, but I want to hear it from your mouth.”

“I’m not-“

He wrapped his hand around your two fingers and squeezed tightly, making you cry out. He kept his other hand clutching your wrist to keep you from pulling away.

“Kylo, please!” You begged as tears sprang to your eyes.

“Tell me.” He said through gritted teeth and tightened his grip on your fingers.

“Fuck! O-Okay… It was a um… officer, doctor. He offered to help me. Please let go.” You blurted out in a hurry, trying to keep from fully screaming.

“His name.”

“It was… um, it was… I-I don’t remember. He only said it once. Please, please believe me, I don’t-“

He released your fingers slowly as he grabbed your other wrist. He pinned your arms above your head against the wall and leaned closer.

“What were the two things I said before I left you?”

You were silent for a moment, your fingers throbbing and distracting you from giving an answer immediately.

“No one touches me, and I don’t speak to anyone.” You said, confused by the way your body was reacting to him.

Your fingers still ached from his grip, but you wanted to lean into him more, having him close was clouding your judgement. Your eyes flitted from his to his lips, reminding you of how long it had been since he kissed you. You tried to shove the thoughts out of your head, but they refused to go. You wanted him, even after all of the pain and torture, you still wanted as much of himself as he would give you.

“Ask.” He said simply, never moving away from you.

“Ask? Ask for what- Oh.“ You were confused for a moment but realized what he meant.

You peered up at him, his intense gaze still burning through you, “will you- sir, um… can I kiss you again?”

His lips upturned slightly, “that’s not what you want. Ask for what you really want from your master.”

Your mouth went dry and you were sure every ounce of fluid in your body had just flooded your panties, “I-I want- Will you fuck me, master?”

He pushed himself off of you and let your arms fall down to your sides, “come, pet.”

Your feet moved on their own as you followed him, your mind in a complete haze at what had just happened and what was about to happen. You were convinced there might be some trick, that he was going to get you stripped and then deny you again, but there was a part of you that held out hope. You must have been moving too slowly because he grabbed your wrist and yanked you into his room, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“Undress. All of it.” He ordered and began removing the thick, padded vest he was wearing.

Trembling and aching fingers lifted your dress up and over your head, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You slipped your shoes and panties off as well, standing perfectly exposed in front of him. The cool, synthesized air wrapped around you but did nothing to quell the heat that rose throughout your body as you watched him. His eyes moved hungrily up and down your body as you knotted your fingers together in front of you. The urge to cover yourself was overwhelming but you knew he would tell you to stop.

Your mind was a dizzying array of confusion and need, flitting between wanting to ask questions and wanting to stay quiet so he would continue. The last week had been torture as he kept his distance from you and you could only assume he was doing it on purpose to toy with you.

He had discarded his shoes, but remained in his undershirt and pants, “I said remove everything.”

You looked down, wondering if your absent mind had forgotten something, but you were completely naked. You glanced back up at him, barely having the chance to open your mouth before he grabbed your injured hand.

“These. Take them off.” He nodded to the bandages.

Surely, he wasn’t serious? You needed to keep the bandages around your fingers, the injury happened only hours before. You looked at your fingers and then back to him.

“Allow me then.” He held your hand up and grabbed the medical tape keeping the bandages secured, slowly unravelling it from your fingers.

He let it fall to the floor but kept a firm hold on your hand, “get yourself ready for me. Using these.”

He curled your other fingers down into your palm and kept the two injured ones raised. His expression let you know he was completely serious and that if you wanted to go further you’d have to do as he said. You were trying to decide if it was worth it, but one glance at him and you crumbled.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, throwing out all self-respect and concern for your own comfort.

In a completely disarming move, like everything he did, Kylo brought your fingers up to his lips and sucked on each one, the softness of his tongue was welcomed against the burned tips of your fingers but it still caused slight pulses of pain. Your breath hitched in your throat and you were unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He pulled your fingers from his mouth, “on the bed. Legs spread wide.”

You climbed on the bed and turned around to face him, propping your feet up on the edge as you let your hand drift down between your thighs, his saliva still coating your fingers.

He flicked his hand, forcing your legs open obscenely wide, “I said open.”

Your cheeks had remained in a constant state of flush, but it felt like your entire body was on fire with the way he was looking at you. His eyes drifted down to your cunt, holding there while you hesitantly slid your hand down further. You inhaled sharply when your fingertips brushed over your clit, a mix of pain and pleasure throwing you off. Your eyes drifted from his lips down his broad chest and to his hand that slowly outlined his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants. You worked your fingers a little harder against your clit, wanting to have him sooner rather than later.

It didn’t take you long to be soaked for him, your thighs and fingers were slick, and you had long forgotten about the burns. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your inner thighs, forcing them even further apart almost painfully.

“You expect to take my cock like this?” He asked, cutting his eyes up at you.

There was no answer that came to mind, “Um, I-“

Kylo leaned down closer and for a split second you were convinced you were dreaming. His mouth opened and time slowed as you saw his tongue brush over his perfect lips, every ounce of you was begging for him to kiss you there. He pursed his lips and spit on your cunt, letting it drip down.

“There. Should help a little.” He stood back up and unzipped his pants.

Everything he did was obscene, lewd, leaving your mind reeling. You had nothing else to compare it to, but you knew it wasn’t the norm.

“Do you remember when I first said you’d be begging me to fuck your pathetic little cunt? What I told you I wouldn’t do?” He pulled his cock free and stroked himself between your thighs.

You searched your mind, trying to focus on what he was saying and not the way his cock looked so close to where you wanted it.

“Um, that… you wouldn’t be gentle?” Your voice was small as you avoided direct eye contact with him.

“Good pet. Remember that.” He stepped closer and you felt the tip of his cock rub against your pussy.

Your breath hitched in your throat when he pressed the tip of his cock against your cunt, easing into you slowly, inch by inch. The way he filled you was painful, stretching your cunt. You almost hoped he’d just put it all in at once to speed up the process. You realized you hadn’t taken a breath in a while and finally inhaled sharply as your hands remained by your sides, clutching the sheets. Every muscle in your body was tense as he continued, your teeth biting into your lip to keep from begging him to stop or keep going.

One sharp thrust of his hips made you let go of the yelp that had been caught in your throat. You tried to squirm away, wanting to lessen the pain you were feeling by any means necessary. He grabbed your throat and held you still while he slowly eased out of you. You waited on a bated breath until he slammed into you again, forcing you to swallow the plea on the back of your tongue. He pulled you closer to him with his hand around your throat, not enough to cut off your airways, but enough to keep you in place.

His other hand clamped down over your wrist, his thumb sliding up your palm towards your burns, “you belong to me, pet. No one touches what’s mine.”

His possessiveness was enticing, almost as if he was jealous, but you knew that couldn’t be the case, not over you. He continued his pace and the pad of his thumb pressed against the tip of your finger, making you cry out. The pain from your finger distracted you from the pain between your legs for the time and all you could do was try to wriggle your hand free of his grip, but it was useless.

“Who owns you, pet?” He asked through gritted teeth, his hair falling in strands over his face as his cock hammered into you harder.

“Y-You… master.” You squeaked, your tongue feeling foreign in your mouth as a sensation began to slowly roll through your body.

“Again.” A breathy groan escaped his parted lips, making you moan softly at the sound.

A tension continued to build, winding up within you and clouding your mind of any previous concerns. Each time his cock hit deeper within you, you felt it, falling into the rhythm as his body rocked against yours.

He tapped the side of your cheek hard enough to catch your attention, “again, pet.”

“You, master. Only you.” You said in more of a whine than you meant to.

He released your hand and your throat, moving his hands down to your hips and digging his fingers painfully into your skin. He fucked you roughly, leaving a trail of bruises that would remain as reminders for you. Almost souvenirs.

You found yourself instinctively lifting up to meet him thrust for thrust, arching your back and chasing the high you felt. The pain had all but dissipated, an ache remained but you were too enamored by him to focus on it.

A sheen of sweat had blanketed over both of you as he drove his cock into your pussy more fervently, skin sliding against skin. His hair stuck to his flushed cheeks; his rhythm now more erratic as you teetered on the edge of your own orgasm. You didn’t know if he had any intention of worrying about you coming or not, so you took it upon yourself to focus on it. Quick, harsh thrusts with fingers scraping down the sides of your hips and a cacophony of your whimpers and his grunts filled the room.

“K-Kylo…” His name slipped past your lips as you clenched around his cock, your release hitting you hard, intense wave after wave.

You writhed and tried to bite back your moans, trying to hold back as you came on his cock. He ignored your string of expletives and pleas for more as he drove his cock deeper and stilled, letting go himself. His cock twitched inside of you as he filled you with his cum, chest heaving as harsh breaths past his lips.

He remained hunched over you; hands planted firmly on the bed on either side of you. You propped yourself up a little and looked down to where your bodies remained connected. His cock still disappeared inside of you, but you could see the faint stains of dried blood coating him and your thighs.

He pushed himself up and pulled out of you suddenly, making you wince, “clean yourself up then change the sheets.”

He slicked his hair back with his hand as he headed into his bathroom, leaving you there in the combination of your bodily fluids and his. You climbed off the bed and gathered your clothing while you made your way to the other bathroom, feeling his cum dripping down your legs with each step.

You assumed you’d have questions, concerns, comments of some kind, but mostly your mind remained blank. You were still trying to process everything and found that you were questioning yourself more than him. He hurt you and not in the way you had expected, but that wasn’t the concerning part. The part that made you almost fearful of yourself was that you liked it. You liked when he choked you, how he used your wounds to his benefit, the way he held onto you as if he was trying to dig his fingers beneath your skin.

The person in the mirror looked back at you but she seemed almost unrecognizable. A darkness seemed to be digging it’s way through and there was nothing holding you back anymore. You wanted to freefall into the blackhole and see what was on the other side.