#learned my lesson the hard way on the first close. you HAVE to be thorough

[blacksurvivalnostalgichanges]

bored. thoughts on literally all the dna stuff

jackie- "i can fix her"

hyunwoo-i kinda get weirded out by the power dynamic in the sheer idea but tbh. it's nice i think. i just want this boy to be a little happier, man

jenny-i am DYINGGG SHE BOUGHT A BAIENGIACA

xiukai:i cant believe that, to sissela, hed be the grandma who makes you feel like you need a second stomach once you visit. funny. he's 34 with the vibe of a 70 year old

aya-what are her thoughts on fentanyl. i wonder. btw it's always funny when someone goes "NO drugs. but alcohol is great". like mate thats just drug lite

alex-now i'm curious what his disease is even supposed to be, i don't recall anything about that. if it's just some sort of chronic fatigue thing then i'd easily say fuck it and headcanon POTS just because but. i'd like to know

leon: "don't bring gifts for me >:( i'm not a kid >:(" the repression is strong on this man

chiara:i think itd be funny to have an alliance where it's zahir, chiara and aya. impossible to understand a damn word. also "i can fix her" part 2

shoichi:you know how it's canon that chidi anagonye is buff because whenever he felt stressed he just did pushups

sissela:she likes strawberry. noted. also ngl i do find the thomas sissela dynamic sick now that i think about it. for a solid second i felt so mentally ill remembering that he brought her to the experiment because he wanted her to get actually cured and not be in pain

rio-i feel VINDICATED. every time. i want to put that "rio to yuki" voiceline on my forehead. they don't get along on such a fundamental level. they have not had a single good interaction. that's why i feel feral when i see anyone ship them, she hates himmmm. also the delivery is bad but in a way that's good because it fits her, she sounds robotic but it feels like it's just how she be OHSFKSDF SHE DOESNT EVEN LIKE DOGS!!! SHE ACTUALLY FUCKING HATES HIM IM LAUGHING

echion-"i see the hesitation in your fists" about hyunwoo is making me mentally ill. also "don't be pretentious" to magnus IS SO FUNNY. he really went "stfu i'm gonna hit you". the things i dislike is also extremely funny. this sign can't stop him because he can't read, guys. though, he sounds like hunter toh to me in a way that makes me like him by association now. past me is crying but current me thinks this mans is funny as hell

tia-im crying. "what's wrong with my hair (┬┬﹏┬┬)". danny boy roasted her so hard. that "can i draw you ◕_◕ " to jenny though. i see you

daniel-even daniel cant believe it when she says she's a doctor. the doubt in this man's voice. also it's so funny how he reads people for their appearance (like "your hair is a mess) and then with yuki he just roasts him for his personality. does he think that bowl cut ass hairstyle is okay enough to focus on something else

eva-"nah i don't feel like getting a haircut quite yet" as he definitely fucking SEETHES

bianca-"oh my god a fellow weirdo!!!". four person alliance between aya chiara zahir and bianca actually. impossible to parse a single word. and it's funny that she goes gentle on sissela (i assume she's too skinny, so) and with echion she plain goes "you have literally no body fat"

johann-YO????? i am mentally ill about that one for sure. johann is so about trying to be the sort of christian who doesn't suck absolute ass and the interaction that has with the extremely complicated relationship isol and rozzi have with church and religion is so interesting to me rn

laura-how did they get away with this "things i dislike" line. also the bizarre thought process i had with aya and laura is so vindicated. police officers are her favorite

aiden-he did not just "we're not so different you and i" her. his luke is funny as hell though. "you get paid to clean? 🤨" do i need to explain society to you???? he sounds legit confused. hKFJNSDKFJ THEY JUST SHOVED ALL THE FUNNY MEME LINES ON HIM HUH. IT'S NOT LIKE I LIKE YOU OR ANYTHING BAKA

elena-she and rosalio allying would be nonstop complaining. they'd either hate each other or be like soulmates. "i hate the heat but i hate the cold" "me too" and then a look of understanding

felix-he did not hit elena with the "you'd be prettier if you smiled". i like him but. girl freeze him. also confirmation that magnus does not use steroids. weird-ass way to ask though. what if he met a trans person mid transition? would he hit them with that exact line as the poor fucker is like "yeah???"

[thecameronchronicles]

No Other Name

TW: Smut. Language. Dark!Rafe.

SUMMARY: A regrettable utterance sends your boyfriend to remind you his name will be the only one you ever say again…

WORD COUNT: 1500

*Requested*

No Other Name

The second his name left your lips, you wished you could swallow yourself whole. Rafe was the only person you ever wanted and yet someone else’s name had left your lips. But it wasn’t just any name…it was the name of a pogue-someone he loathed with every fiber of his being. It was what drove his loving lips from your inner thigh and now back to you with focus as he had licked his lips into a part before you watched them close in less than pleased clench. 

“Why the fuck are you moaning some pogues name while I’m between your legs?” He asked, angelic features darkened by this question as you knew no amount of an explanation would soothe this moment. You could try to convince him of the truth, that you had gotten into a spat with JJ Maybank and were frustrated for the comebacks you didn’t have a chance to say back, but you knew these attempts would be made in vain as Rafe was the kind to always have his mind made up. So instead, you just apologized. 

“You’re sorry? Why are you thinking about him right now? Huh? You want HIM here instead of me? Is that it? You want to say his name while someone’s making you feel good?” Your breathing accelerated in the worry of his reaction. Even though Rafe was an exceptional boyfriend with his undivided attention and devotion, it would also prove a reason for angst. 

“No…” You managed to utter as he pulled from between your legs and onto the side of the bed before tearing you to its edge by the way of your ankles. A gasp having interrupted the otherwise silent room as you were left with your eyes stationed in his own. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not-” He reached down to you, fingers wrapped within your hair as he pulled you close enough to kiss him, but finding the expression on his face offering you anything but this compassion. 

“I don’t want your fucking excuses. I don’t care to hear ‘em…But I’m gonna make sure it never fucking happens again-” He pulled you ever tighter to the edge of the bed, your panties torn clean off of yoru hips without a care to keep them in tact as you inhaled a sharp breath of surprise to his carnality. 

“Rafe…”

“You’re gonna say my name everytime or I’ll hit you, do you understand?” You swallowed hard. “You don’t get to come until I know you’ve learned your lesson-yeah?” 

“Rafe-” A solid collision of his fingers to your pussy forced you to jump as you had expected the ‘hit’ to come to your cheek as he had done so in prior roles of dominance. But this was different. This was a true punishment-not something to quell your own kink. He wanted that threat of pain along with the pleasure, always promising one or the other. 

“Every lick, I better hear my name…Or you’re gonna ache for me in a new way…” You nodded as he released your hair and allowed you to recline in some state of rest as you looked back at him. 

“Don’t even think about closing your eyes either. I want it engrained in your fucking subconscious of who belongs here…” He pulled your legs over his shoulders. 

“Right…Here…” He slowed his words, ensuring you felt the breath directly on your sex as they were spoken. 

“I don’t want to have to hurt you…so I REALLY hope you can listen this time…” You nodded again, devoted to the cause as he would draw that first line of his tongue, his name a natural moan coming from your lips. But after a handful of stripes that quickened once he was pleased with how you had obeyed, your mind became transcendent in that pleasure of his thorough intentions you loved above all else. 

“Fuck!” You belted to the cruel slap made to your clit, the remaining sting forcing you to wince as he would return to his licks, the recovery of your strike making you silent and warranting yet another hit. 

“Do I need to brand my name onto your fucking tongue to make you say it?!” You shook your head as you wouldn’t put such a thing past him. He had a kink for truly everything and the more depraved the desire the more desperate he was to entertain its beckoning. 

“Then I better hear it…NOW-”

“Rafe!” You belted as he smirked. 

“Always sounds so sweet from you..” He licked his own lips for a moment as if to consider ceasing his torment and allowing you both that pleasurable release. 

“Rafe…” You breathed again before he nodded and returned back between your thighs. 

“Now I want you to focus on me…how this feels…” He offered a single suck to your clit as you winced in pleasure reprimanded by his own self-guided absence. “And understand that if I ever hear that name or anyone else’s from your lips, you’ll never feel this again-”

“Rafe-”

“I want you to be quiet and think, baby…While I draw my name into your pussy, yeah?” He was already between your folds, spelling out each letter of his name inside of you in slow torture. 

The eroticism of his slowness yet threat behind his words had been enough to send you trembling, something he aided in the grip tightened around your thighs as he pulled you even further into him. The way your fingers wrapped through his hair as you tried to remain silent had pulled him to no longer care to spell his name as he instead dove your depths, needy to bring you to that edge while he pulled two fingers inside of you, curving them as you shuddered. 

“God, you make it impossible to be mad at you when you taste so fucking good!” He pulled back for only a second, allowing his winded breath to hit against your soaking cunt, before he looked back up to see how desperate you had been for him to continue. 

“Hands and knees, turn away from me.” You obeyed, flipping yourself over as requested, before hearing him undress behind you. 

“Each thrust, I wanna hear my name or I’m gonna make it so you can’t sit, yeah?” You nodded. “And don’t come until I say-”

“Rafe!” He chuckled. 

“Getting ahead of ourselves, sweetheart, I haven’t even put it in yet.” You bowed forward until feeling him inside of you, the familiar fullness driving you to that moan as you breathed his name in that natural effect he had on you. But once again, as your head began to spin at the feeling of his motions erasing your sense of instruction, you would find his aforementioned promise in a swat to your ass. 

“Rafe!”

“Is THAT what it takes to remind you? Just slapping your ass while I’m pounding it, huh?”

“Fuck…”

“Not my name…” He reminded. 

“RAFE! PLEASE!” Your ass was hit again, this time with blows much harsher than those that had come before it. 

“Rafe! Rafe! RAFERAFERAFE!” You spoke his name as he requested. With each thrust. Prompting him to praise you with his guttural ‘good girls’ and quickening pace. Until finally his own desire reached its pinnacle that he could no longer deny. He would lift you against him, hand wrapped around your throat to keep you stabilized in place. 

“You stop saying my name and you don’t get to come for a fucking week-and that’s only when I”ll take you to The Cut to make you scream it on the top of your goddamn lungs-”

“RAFE!” You cried out as he nodded. 

“That’s right baby-Show me you know it’s me-only me-EVER only me! No other name-” 

“YOU, RAFE, YOU!” You whimpered, moaning his name in repetition as he made quick work of your clit while you trembled against him. 

“Who makes you cry out like that?”

“Rafe!”

“Who makes you come so hard that we gotta clean these sheets more than once a day?”

“RAFE!”

“And who loves you enough to teach you that lesson so you’ll remember it for next time?!”

“RAAAFFEEE!” You chorused as he nodded into you, thrusts ungodly but in contrast to the selfishness of each time he would bottom out while his fingers more than made up for that lack of care. 

“Then come for me, sweetheart. Come for me while saying my name one last time…just once-” He groaned into you and felt you buckle into fatigue. Once both spent, his name now an echo, he brought you back against him, this time, for a tender kiss to your mouth that worsened your breathlessness. 

“Good girl, baby. Now let’s get you cleaned up…Made more of a mess than usual…guess you like saying my name…” He teased as you scoffed before being taken with care, a favorite in the aftermath of all moments shared with him; the calm after the storm…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste

[meadow-roses]

Hi! I hope you're doing well! I've been meaning to reach out to you for a while but I'm always so nervous! I wanted to tell you that I'm always so impressed by your animations and I wanted to ask if you had any advice? I would like to learn but I have no idea how to begin. How do you go about it and how did you start learning this process? Thank you very much and I hope all is well!

Hello!!! First off I want to apologize for it taking so long to respond to you- we had a lot of autumnal food storing to do and I was short on time. Animation is something I'm very passionate about and I wanted to give you a thorough answer because I would absolutely LOVE to help you get started in animating!! If there's anything I don't cover, or if you have a more specific question, feel free to send another ask and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. :)

I didn't really do much to get started, I just kinda jumped in with photoshop cs5 (I DON'T recommend doing that LOL 😂) I wanted to make an animated series with my brother so I just started working on the trailer which is like 30 seconds pffft. Since then I've just been learning as I go picking up stuff from watching movies closely. I've still got a lot of basics to figure out like thumbnailing a sequence before you try to animate it, and timing charts (which is what I'm trying to work on now hehe)

My biggest piece of advice for you would be to just jump into it! I think there is no advice that can get anyone started better than to just start doing it. I know that can sound daunting, but there is no better way to get better at any form of art (drawing, writing, singing, etc.) than to just start. You'll learn the best by learning from your own mistakes, as hard as that can be. XD

You can start with some simple exercises to get the hang of moving something, like animate a ball bouncing or a hamster doing a backflip- just whatever sounds most do-able to you. (Do yourself a favor and don't start with a walk/run cycle though. They seem simple but are actually one of the hardest things to animate lol Be smarter than me. XDD) Just start small and work up from there. Go from animating a ball to animating a blink, then animate something turning it's head, saying something, waving, flapping wings. The more animating the more you'll catch the hang of it and drawing the motions will become intuitive. In general, just don't be afraid to try- and if it doesn't look right, don't give up! :D

Richard Williams book, "The Animator's Survival Kit" is a wonderful resource for getting started animating. He walks the reader through the very basics, and then the fundamentals of animation and how to apply it, like squash and stretch and takes. I was able to find a copy at my library and then later bought one off Abebooks for around $12. I haven't finished the book but I did peek ahead and see lip syncing and walk cycles and other wider motions.

I've found a lot of art programs come with an animation system built in. I don't know what program you're using, but I personally love the one for Krita. I find the entire program intuitive and easy to use (that's also my drawing program XD), and the animation window is seconded only by ToonBoom (the current industry standard software which is also EXCELLENT just pricey. You can get a one month free trial for each of the three versions if you want to test it out. Unlike Krita, ToonBoom can make 2d puppets and do "flash" animation.) If you are having trouble with digital animation you can still practice with traditional sketches, I made a tutorial thing for a friend on that here. Flipbooks are something I've heard of working? Like animating on a pad of sticky notes, but I haven't been able to get that to work well for me but you could try it!

If you have any more specific questions I'd love to help you however I am able! Here are some of the resources I've found useful:

Again, I can't recommend enough Richard Williams' book "The Animator's Survival Guide" (an animator trained by Milt Kahl) if you want to understand the basics and are still confused where to start. Also Frances Glebas' (a renowned director) storyboarding book "Directing the Story". Both of those books have been immensely helpful and I can't wait for the free time to read them more and put to action the lessons! XD

Here's a link to James Baxter's (my animator hero lol) youtube account, where you can study snippets of a master animator's work: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCt2iDOfRW1WWu5SxgJJpP1g

I've also found following accounts of animators on instagram has been a help, they'll often post "breakdowns" of shots explaining why they chose what shapes and how they decided to pace motions and stuff like that. jakeleeanimation this dude posts a lot of studies of disney animations kenduncan9 director of the studio that animated Tarzan and Hercules, among others pumbaaguy animator of Kronk and Pumba! framebyframe_animation this helpful account slows animations down and really walks you through the forms and pacing johnpomeroyart worked on Pocahontas and Atlantis, likes teaching people animation! theanimationart explanatory username lol XD AND OF COURSE aaronblaiseart who has retired from animating to TEACH animation and was also trained by the original disney pioneer animators. He does have a website where you can buy a course, and while it is pricey it does often go on sale. I haven't caught the chance to watch through all the episodes yet but I was able to purchase the series for $10 last year.

Also I seriously mean it, if you have any other questions feel free to ask. XD There's so much info I'm not sure where to start or what would be most helpful for you to get you started. :,)

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Tempering The Devil

Vergil offers to teach you how to polish the Yamato, but he soon learns that you know how to take care of another sword as well.

This is my contribution to the @ssszine! Hope you enjoy! 🌹😘🌹

Vergil comes upon a most intriguing sight after taking a refreshing shower. You are sitting on the floor with the Yamato in your lap while your frowning face is focused on the intricate wrapping of the handle. He remains hidden just outside his bedroom door as you gently clean the handle with a white cloth, fingers gliding up and down the wrapping before cleaning the sageo. Your hands creep down its length with the cloth, coaxing any dirt and grim from the finely woven material along the way.  

You are still unaware of his presence, so Vergil continues to observe mostly out of curiosity as you lift the Yamato up from your lap. You close your eyes as one of your hands wraps around the hilt of the sword while the other firmly grasps just below the guard. He watches in awe as you slowly slide the Yamato out of the sheath, steadily revealing its brilliant blade while an audible hum fills the air. You take a deep breath as it finally leaves the sheath with a satisfying ring, closely examining the impressive blade in all its glory through heavy lidded eyes.             

Vergil’s body sings along with the metallic song of his most treasured possession. His cock twitches beneath his sweatpants as you tilt your head in reverence towards the blade. He glances down at his groin with a quirked brow, taken aback by his body’s reaction to seeing you handle the Yamato...but not displeased in the slightest. In fact, he wonders what exactly has gotten him so excited as you proceed with your ceremonial cleaning.

You hold the blade out with one hand while reaching for a fresh piece of soft paper from his sword cleaning kit. A small wave of heat surges beneath his skin as you pinch the base of the sword before wiping the blade with a slow and steady stroke. His desire stirs faster and faster as his keen eyes follow your every move, admiring the beauty of the blade while your hand gracefully glides all the way up to the tip. 

Your head tilts from left to right as you check the sword for any blemishes before moving onto the next step. You lower the blade carefully and reach for his cleaning kit again, but your hand hovers between the bottles of oil and numerous powders. His lips quirk into an amused smirk at the sight of your indecisiveness. He finally decides to take pity when you scratch your head in confusion.     

“Need any assistance?”

“Ah!” You flinch back at the sound of his voice. “Oh, it’s just you.” A sigh of relief leaves your lips as he enters the room. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on someone armed with your own weapon!” you warn while lifting the Yamato up in a defensive stance to prove your point.  

“Duly noted,” he hums wryly before shutting the door behind him. “Speaking of my own weapon…” Another rush of heat surges through his body, once again finding the sight of you handling the Yamato to be quite enthralling. “Why are you trying to clean the Yamato when you don’t even know how?” he inquires, hiding all traces of lust from his calm and cool voice.

“I’ve watched you do it so many times, so I thought…” You lower the sword with a sheepish shrug. “I just wanted to surprise you with a nice and shiny Yamato after your shower.”

Vergil chuckles softly as he walks over to you. “Here...let me show you how it’s done,” he murmurs, offering one of his hands to you with a smug smile. 

You reach up and grab his hand with a bashful smirk, letting him pull you up to stand so that he can step behind you. He wraps one arm around your waist and holds you against his bare chest before directing you to sit down on his lap. You immediately feel his hard member against your bottom, igniting your own desire as he reaches for the Yamato still clasped in your hand. 

“You already did the first step,” he notes by your ear, gazing at your reflection in the blade as he holds it out in front of you. “So, now you need the uchiko powder.” 

Vergil acts like nothing is amiss as he proceeds to teach you the proper way to clean the Yamato. He grabs a ball shaped tool from his cleaning kit and gently taps it up and down the length of the blade, coating it in a fine layer of finely ground stone. Then, he softly whispers the next step above you while plucking a fresh piece of soft paper. You hear him call it nugui-gami as he wipes the powder away, revealing the beautiful pattern of the blade’s edge in a few thorough strokes.    

You watch completely mesmerized by his elegant movements. Your body subtly squirms around in his lap while simmering heat begins to pool below your belly. You look up at Vergil from the corner of your eye, curious about his intention of seeing this lesson through to the end. His handsome face remains perfectly calm while his engorged cock throbs against your ass, practically begging for more attention...   

And who are you to deny such a tempting opportunity to show him that you at least know how to handle the sword between his legs?

Vergil finishes wiping the powder off the Yamato and whispers the next step close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he hands the sword over to you. He reaches into the cleaning kit for a small bottle of choji oil and dabs it on another piece of soft paper. Your hips start swaying against the heavy bulge hidden beneath his sweatpants as he applies the oil to the blade. 

You start off slow and gentle, enjoying the feel of his arousal as it grows even harder against your ass. But this only gets you a subtle pause from the stubborn devil before he diligently continues his task of coating the blade with the remaining oil. This only encourages you to turn up the heat and start grinding against his crotch provocatively, rubbing every inch of his hard member until his strong arms wrap around your waist. 

“Stay still and pay close attention!” he snaps irritably, halting your hips with his vice grip while pressing his lips against your ear. “Or else I’ll show you what proper discipline looks like next,” he snarls softly before biting your neck.  

You gasp and moan as his mouth begins to lightly suck in warning. “How could I possibly keep my focus with this distracting me?” you whine, trying in vain to thrust your hips back against his raging hard-on. “But you know…” you trail off, wondering if he will take the bait as you stifle another moan. You lift the Yamato up so that he can see your wicked grin in the reflection of the blade.   

“I may not know how to clean the Yamato, but I do know how to take proper care of your other sword,” you murmur suggestively, licking your lips while wiggling around in his lap.   

Vergil remains quiet while his cock twitches at your titillating words. His icy blue eyes gleam with devilish interest as they meet your inquisitive gaze in the Yamato’s reflection. He loosens his arms and grasps the sword from your hand, leaving you free to sink further down his lap until coming face to face with his clothed crotch. 

You readjust into a comfortable position, settling down low on your knees as you feel up his incredibly strong thighs. His hard member jumps at your sensual caress as you lean in closer and nuzzle his confined arousal. You can smell the herbal soap he likes to use as well as his own personal aroma; it makes you dizzy with desire as you take in the heady scent of him. Your mouth salivates when you notice some pre cum leaking through his sweatpants, breathing in deeply to get a whiff of his white hot seed. 

Vergil silently watches you, still holding the Yamato aloft while fidgeting under your teasing touches. He buries his other free hand into your hair, but you quickly snatch it away from your head. “The Yamato isn’t gonna wipe itself,” you point out, smirking up at him with a quirked brow. You lead his hand towards the cleaning kit, never looking away from his perplexed gaze as you rest it atop the soft paper.

“No touching until your precious sword is all sparkling clean.”

You revel in the flash of mixed emotions within those icy blue eyes; insolent anger, frustration, and enticing desire clashing together until one completely overwhelms the others. He accepts your challenge and plucks a fresh piece of soft paper, handing part of the reigns over to you with a soft hum. You bite your lower lip and slip your fingers beneath his sweatpants before pulling down the only barrier between you and your delectable prize.      

“Fuck,” you gasp as his restrained member pops out, “you have a beautiful cock.”

And you’re not exaggerating; his tall and thick shaft never fails to take your breath away. You grab him by the base and give him one confident stroke along his length, fully unsheathing the head of his cock on the downstroke. “If I remember right,” you whisper as he begins to wipe the preserving oil off the Yamato. 

“The tip is called kissaki,” you note before lapping up the collected beads of pre cum off the head of his cock with your tongue. 

Vergil stoically swipes down the length of the Yamato, but the distinct quiver of his cock tells you that he finds your thrilling words to be truly rousing. “And the pretty pattern that runs all along the edge,” you murmur, tracing a single finger up the prominent vein underneath his shaft, “is called the hamon.”

Your tongue continues to tease the tip with a few kitten licks and soft nips while pumping his cock, delighting in every little pulse of pleasure given by your hand. You take a quick peek above you in between languid strokes, checking to see if he really is cleaning the Yamato. His handsome face is the epitome of discipline as he avidly wipes the remaining oil off the blade, and besides the faint shade of pink upon his pale cheeks...you never would’ve guessed that he’s about to receive one helluva blowjob!

Vergil glances down at you as soon as he finishes his task, mouth slightly parted in fascination as you gaze up at him with desirous eyes. “Does this meet your expectations of sparkling clean?” he inquires gruffly while lowering the Yamato for inspection.

Your head raises up just as the Yamato comes in between you and his cock. You scan the pristine sword while your body jolts from the thrill of having such a dangerously sharp blade pointing so close to your neck. “Mmm...looks pretty nice and shiny to me,” you purr while reaching up and grasping his hand on the handle. 

You gently guide him to press the back of the blade against his cock, which twitches at its cool metallic touch as you slowly move both of your hands to rest on his thighs. He keeps the Yamato still while you lick one long stroke up the underside of his shaft before sinking your mouth down on his propped up member. Your nails dig into his thighs as you slowly take all him down to the hilt, shivering as the blade’s razor sharp edge barely brushes against your neck.

Vergil grunts and rakes his fingers through your hair as you start sucking him off at a fervent pace. You relish his velvety skin on your tongue, softly moaning in pleasure as the edge of the blade presses against your neck with every bob of your head. And you can tell that your devilish lover is enjoying your thorough demonstration as well by the subtle hitch within his every breath. 

You pick up the pace just as your mind churns with a naughty idea, sucking harder until he’s close to reaching his peak. His soft grunts gradually turn into husky growls and he grips your hair tighter as his cock grows even more taut against your lips. You take this as your queue and grab the handle of the Yamato before pulling him out of your mouth with an audible pop. 

Vergil hisses and pins you down with a warning glare, but you simply ignore him while moving the Yamato. Your lips curl into an impish grin as you reposition the blade right above the base of his cock, barely resting its razor sharp edge against his soft and sensitive skin. You move back in and glance up at him while gently squeezing his hand on the handle, silently asking if he would like to give into such dangerous temptation…

The pleasurable ache between your legs throbs with anticipation as he gives you a slight nod of his head. You place your hand back onto his thigh before carrying out your lustful deed, keeping your ardent gaze upon his face while your mouth slackens before plunging down once more. The tip of your nose touches glistening steel as you bury his cock deep within your throat, earning a low growl from the Dark Slayer. 

Vergil’s eyes drastically dilate at the tantalizing sight of your lips stretching around him as your head moves up and down his length. The sharp edge of the Yamao grazes his skin with every stroke as you waste no time with teasing, gradually increasing your pace until you have him panting above you. He grips your hair tighter and tighter while his cock grows harder and harder until it jerks with his sudden release.

You swallow his cum as it gushes into your mouth, savoring its cool and slightly salty taste while Vergil roars through his orgasm. Your throat starts to choke up, so you pull away with a loud gasp and let the last spurt of his seed spill out while his cock bounces against his belly. A few droplets land on the Yamato, and you smirk at the perverse display of carnal pleasure before bowing your head down low again. 

“Well,” you hummed, craning your neck to catch his eye. “Did that meet your expectations?” you ask with a naughty grin before licking his cum off the Yamato with a long swipe of your tongue. 

Vergil’s hazy gaze abruptly clears as his keen eyes hone in on your mouth. The only response you get is a rumbling growl deep within his chest, warning you of his inevitable strike of payback. And you don’t mind at all since the flickering flame of desire within his eyes gives you his answer:

It most certainly did.

I’d like to give huge thanks to everybody who helped donate to RAINN by grabbing a copy of the SSS Zine! The leftover sell should be starting soon so keep a lookout if you wanna snatch up some lewd goodies! 🔥💖🔥

[valaks]

Signals: Deleted Fic

Summary: When Alex had come to SCORPIA it had been in hopes of getting answers but at every turn he seems to walk away with more questions. The only thing he can cling to is the memory of the man who sent him here and his protege who is now guiding him. At least Nile’s nice...for a terrorist but that’s really more than Alex can ask for.

“D’Arc said you made quick progress on the hand signals”

Alex was still getting used to hearing praise. It’d been longer than he was willing to admit since he had received anything more substantive than an “I’m glad you’re home and safe”. That it was coming from a man who Alex had learned the hard way was objectively very, very dangerous…it didn’t speak well of the direction his life had been going.

Not that coming to SCORPIA was really a bright and shining moment for that either but at least here he felt a little more...settled than at home. Everything here was easy in a way that Brooklands hadn’t been in quite sometime. He was still behind in some subjects he hadn’t made it to chemistry which made some of Gordon’s lessons difficult at best but in others he exceeded. That his classmates stayed closed lipped at the very worst only made things that much easier to slide in and feel comfortable.

“Yeah, some of them overlap from what MI6 taught.” He tried to brush it off but Nile stopped dead in his tracks fixing him with an unreadable stare, on anyone else at Malogosto it would be natural but on Nile who kept such a good temper it was disconcerting.

“Don’t lie, Alex, our hand signals aren’t anything remotely like 6s.”

“How do you know?” He was genuinely curious but also hoping to switch subjects because Nile was nice but also terrifying and maybe lying to him hadn’t been his best decision

“You’ll study them here, well, the big ones - CIA, MI6, SVR, and the rest who try to play world police.” Nile said with a flippant hand wave “Now why don’t you tell me the real reason you know them?”

He really shouldn’t be surprised, Nile wasn’t a school teacher he could fool with questions and misdirection. He was informative and helpful but there was a limit and he got the feeling he was reaching it. “My uncle taught them to me when I was young.” And that had been as much of a shock to Alex as it apparently was to Nile who took a step back, something unreadable flashing through his eyes. Gone as soon as he saw it.

“Odd choice for an MI6 agent...” he murmured

“Maybe he didn’t want other people to see me using them, might’ve thought it would make people see me as a target” People like you went unsaid.

Nile nodded thoughtfully, “It’s possible he learned them from Hunter, your father.”

“You don’t think that’s why do you?”

“No,” there was a note of approval in his voice and Alex did his best to ruthlessly repress his own pride at having garnered it. Nile’s next words did a great job of smothering it “I think you were always meant to come to SCORPIA, Alex, ideally in 4 years when MI6 had more of a chance to groom you. Thankfully you found us on your own.”

There was just the smallest thread of doubt there and Alex had the sudden urge to tell him that he had, that he was tired of being used by MI6 that he belonged here in a way he hadn’t belonged anywhere since Ian’s death. Nile seemed to find what he was looking for and nodded.

“Do other people feel that way too?” It wasn’t subtle but subtleties were lost on Nile who seemed to be able to read him like a book.

“Of course,” it wasn’t comforting “Those doubts hang over the head of every operative we have that switches sides. Your youth helps, of course.”

“And it helps to have a second in command watching my steps.”

Nile flashed him a smile “Yes but there is more to it than that. If they wanted to prove your loyalty there are easier ways - interrogation or any seasoned operative but they chose me, why do you think that is?”

Nile liked these little thought exercises. Pressing Alex to understand his position or lessons was a favorite last time. Alex now saw them for what they were - a test. Unfortunately, one he would fail.

“Honestly, I don’t know” he didn’t, not really not when they had perfectly good instructors, not when Nile’s time was infinitely more valuable in the field. It didn’t quite add up but then this entire experience had felt a little surreal.

“Mrs. Rothman is interested in you as are the rest of the board. You have a family history that speaks of talent but more importantly you have a far more recent history that shows the skill and determination to use it. You have foiled two of our operations, ones that were planned and executed by Cossack who had a...reputation for being thorough and never failing.”

“Before me.”

“Before you” Nile agreed “Some on the Board attribute your success to his weakness. I don’t believe that is true and neither does Mrs. Rothman. She has had the other two youngest Malogosto graduates under her command to fantastic results, she feels you will be similarly successful.”

“I know you are the youngest.” Are because Alex hadn’t graduated yet and mercifully had quite a bit of time before he could really consider what that would entail. “But who was the other?”

“Cossack, he was 19 when he trained with your father.”

“Oh”

“Yes, oh” Nile looked amused, but there was something more to it than that. It wasn’t the first time he had caught it either. If Nile was assigned to him then maybe….

“Did he mentor you?”

Nile gave him a long look and then nodded “Not while I was at Malogosto but once I left and started making a name for myself.”

“Can you tell me about him?” It came out more forcefully than he intended. Yassen represented a lot of unanswered questions in his life. Alex wouldn’t be here without him having killed Ian but he also wouldn’t be alive at all for that matter. If Nile couldn’t tell him about his father, maybe hearing about Yassen would fill in some of those blanks.

“Another time, maybe.” A casual look down the corridor was enough to signal that it wasn’t a ‘no’, just an inopportune time and place. “I’ll talk to D’Arc about transitioning you into the other hand signals. After dinner we’ll be headed back to the range 72% is good but they’ll be introducing different targets soon. I want you to have exposure to them before your progress is scored and reported tomorrow.”

Nile didn’t have to explain all that. He could have ordered Alex anywhere and he would have gone. Maybe he knew that explaining things was the easiest way to get Alex’s compliance, or maybe he needed him to be aware of the stakes, Alex liked to think that it was because despite his background Nile did genuinely want to see him succeed. He held onto that because he hadn’t had anyone who wanted that and was willing to help him succeed in a long time. And maybe it was fitting that the line of mentorship would keep going.

[mavericksy]

Time to Waste (Aizawa x Gender-neutral Reader)

Summary: Aizawa is displeased when your lengthy going-out routine leads the two of you to arrive late at an event, and you know full well he’s going to get you back for it- after all, that was your plan.

Tags: Spanking, mild public humiliation

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+

Word count: 3990

Requests are open (any character/pairing/rating)!

Black or blue? Slim or bootcut? You hold the pants in front of you, scrutinising them under your bedroom light. A pile of going-out clothes lies discarded on top of your shared double bed. You’ve known about this event for the last few months, and had even considered your outfit choices during the slow hours of work, but you’ve purposefully avoided making any decisions until an hour beforehand.

Aizawa arrives in the doorway. He’s already sulking at the prospect of having to wear a tie, but his face well and truly drops when he sees you sat on the floor in just your underwear.

“You…you told me you were ready!” he hisses. “You told me you just needed to change your shirt!”

You look up as though you weren’t expecting to see him in the doorway of his own bedroom, and tilt your head to the side.

“Yeah, but…there weren’t any good replacements!”

“So you took the entire outfit off?”

“What’s the matter? You don’t want me to look good at this event?”

“Like I told you earlier, I could care less what you wear. I doubt we’re even going to make it at this rate.”

You roll your eyes and check your watch.

“Come on, big kitty…” His shoulders hunch at your pet name, and you know he’s trying to suppress a blush. “We’ve got an hour to get there.”

“And if there’s traffic?”

You shrug. “We get there a little late, so what? If anything, it’s less time spent rubbing shoulders with people you don’t like.” “The earlier we arrive, the earlier we can leave. The later we arrive, the more people there are to block our path to the exit.”

“I’m surprised you even accepted the invitation.” You hold two shirts up, one dark blue and one white pinstripe. “Which one?”

“I don’t care, so long as you wear something.” He leans against the doorframe in despair. You don’t miss his eyes coasting over your nude curves as you kneel on the floor. You make a special point of leaning forward to pick another article up, knowing his eyes will snap to your underwear as it rides up the swell of your backside.

“Hmm, I think I’ll go with this one…” You retrieve the shirt and shuffle your butt, as though to shift the material of the underwear somewhere more comfortable. He’s momentarily distracted, then he spots the red shirt in your hands.

“That’s the one you were wearing before!” He pushes himself off the doorframe and storms over to snatch it out of your hands. His suspicions are confirmed as he inspects it. “You…!”

He stares down at you as you kneel on the floor. You employ the big, confused eyes, holding a pair of trousers to your chest.

“You…” he sighs and ruffles your hair. Your chest leaps with glee, and you nudge your head into his touch, only for his fingers to tighten on the back of your skull. He pushes you into the crotch of his suit pants. “I know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What?” you say, letting your lips brush the material. You raise a hand to stroke his thigh, moving onto your haunches. His fly is an inch away from your face, and you let your fingers dance across it, clicking against his belt buckle.

“Stop that,” he grunts, pushing your head down and stepping over you. He drops the shirt and moves to the door. “Get dressed, or I’ll make you sit naked in the cab.”

You know he’d never make good on that, but you feel your blood rush towards your pelvis anyway.

“What have I done?” you whine, getting on all fours to pick the shirt up. His gaze is fully on you, even as he stands in the doorway about to leave the room. He takes in the dip of your back as it cascades towards your covered ass, which you’ve positioned pleasingly in the air.

He chuckles darkly.

“I’ll tell you what you’ve done. You’ve just earned yourself a spanking.”

He was right. There was traffic.

You had felt extremely pleased with your plan as you exited your house. Aizawa hated public affection, but he’d taken an extra moment to squeeze and maul your ass as you kissed behind the door, only to lay a swift smack on it just as you stepped out. He’d played it nonchalant, but your eyes had immediately gone to the cab sat right by the door, both mortified and thrilled at the prospect that the driver might have seen- or heard your squeak.

As the driver hummed and tapped his wheel, staring out at the line of cars ahead, you felt Aizawa’s withering gaze squarely on your face as you put all your attention into toying with the window controls.

He moved closer to you, hanging over your shoulder so you could hear his controlled breathing, and smell the shampoo on his hair. At the back of your mind you were happy to discover it was the herbal one you’d bought him. As he lingered, you became more and more aware of his broad, muscled shoulder digging into yours. Neither of you had ever seen the point in comparing body types, but you were always conscious of the sheer brawn he hid under his dark, ill-fitting clothes.

The stinging spank he had given you before you left had only been a taste of what was yet to come.

You squirmed and clenched your cheeks as the memory of it worked its way back onto your flesh, making the skin on your rear tingle. Already you were wondering if the thorough groping he had given you had left bruises, or if the ache in your body was simply it yearning for what was yet to come.

After the event.

He didn’t say anything in the taxi, but you could tell from the way his fingers drummed against his folded arms that he wasn’t impressed with you at the moment. Both of you kept checking your watches, but eventually the vehicle pulled down the required avenue in a ritzy part of the city. Your heart sank and his scowl deepened as you arrived outside the restaurant, and saw a throng of burly heroes already outside.

Aizawa thanked the driver and jumped out first, before coming around to your side to open the door. You had been avoiding his gaze for most of the journey, horrified at the shock of traffic you hadn’t predicted, but now you couldn’t find anywhere else to look but his face. His eyes were hard and intense, but it was the fire behind them that made you tremble as the door handle clicked. It wasn’t the cold and professional glare he reserved for villains and irksome colleagues.

It was the one that told you that you were going to be sleeping on your stomach for the next week.

You thanked the driver and stepped out of the cab, expecting to take his hand. Instead, his arm snaked around your waist. Uh-oh.

He held his watch in front of your face.

“Seventeen minutes,” he deadpanned.

“I-”

He cut you off with a firm wallop to your rear, the opposite cheek. You jolted and tried not to make a sound as you stepped onto the carpet outside the restaurant, and into the crowd of heroes. They were boisterous and broad, jostling each other in tipsy shows of strength, but Aizawa’s arm kept you pulled close to his side. Your cheek tingled as you navigated through to the entrance, ducking around Aizawa’s industry colleagues as he snubbed them one by one, and it didn’t stop tingling until you’d reached the door.

“Aizawa,” he said plainly to a woman holding a ledger. You fidgeted in place as she took a moment to read through it. Standing on the spot was making your butt clench in a way that drew attention to your sore skin, and it didn’t help that Aizawa’s fingers were caressing the thick flesh at the base of your spine, which created another problem for you below the belt. You flushed and readjusted your pants as the woman let you through. A thrill rushed up and down your spine as Aizawa’s hand dropped momentarily, allowing him to graze your cleft as he pushed the heavy glass door open.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he muttered into your ear, eyeing the room for any potential interactions to be avoided. “We’re getting out of here as soon as-”

“Aizawa, you finally made it!” A familiar voice cried. Your heads snapped in the direction it came from.

Having spotted you from the bar, Midnight was waltzing over in a sea of red sparkles, her breasts swinging perilously close to freedom behind her plunging neckline. Her perfume tickled your nose as she swept in to smooch Aizawa’s cheek, a gesture he had long learned to tolerate instead of try and avoid.

You felt your cheeks going pink as she did the same to you. You made the mistake of avoiding her gaze by looking down at her bosom.

“So cheeky!” she exclaimed, assaulting your shoulder with a bar napkin- a makeshift replacement for a flogger. “Aizawa, you need to keep this one under control!”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” Aizawa growled. Your cheeks suddenly became very hot and sweaty as you realised exactly what was about to happen.

Aizawa was a private person, but even he needed an outlet sometimes. Midnight, the single most shameless and salacious person you had ever met, was a match made in heaven.

“I’ve already had to schedule one punishment for tonight.”

Sweet humiliation tore into your lower regions as Aizawa squeezed your side possessively, staring Midnight down as though daring her to make a claim on you.

Which she of course did.

“I thought you had a guilty look on your face,” she purred, looking you up and down. “Make him late, did you?”

Trying to keep your lips clamped together to avoid a shriek of delighted indignity, you nodded.

“Oh, aren’t you bad? Stealing my time with a dear colleague. Aizawa, let me teach them a lesson, too!”

“Keep off,” Aizawa said, tugging you to stand in front of him and resting his head on your shoulder. You could feel his jaw move as he dragged his tongue across his grin. He pushed his hips to your ass, making you stir as you were pulled against his erection. “This one’s mine.”

Midnight chuckled and traced your chin with her finger. “Pity.”

Aizawa snapped his teeth at her playfully, to which she laughed.

“Make sure you give them a couple extra to make up for staring at my chest!” she called over her shoulder, before vanishing into the crowd to tease some other poor soul.

Aizawa nestled his face into your shoulder as she left, and kissed the back of your neck. Laughter bubbled out of you as he squeezed your sides.

“You’re not usually this affectionate out and about,” you said.

He stood and laid a single kiss to the side of your head, patting your rear. You both knew that, for all the fuss they’d make about him not attending this event, nobody was paying any attention to you.

“I’m having a hard time keeping myself from bending you over my knee right here, right now,” he hissed, all but stopping your heart as you gazed around the room. He was.

“Don’t you dare,” you giggled as he guided you to make a lap around the room.

“Strange,” he said, grinning wolfishly. “You’re not the one who’s supposed to be giving orders to me.”

“Like I listen to your orders to begin- oh!” You leapt out of your skin as he patted you more firmly than you were expecting, your reaction drawing much more attention than the mild spank.

“I’m going to kill you, I swear,” you hissed as you hurried past a group of bemused heroes.

“I’d welcome it,” he sighed, raising his hand and stopping as two heroes you didn’t recognise spotted him and started to walk over.

The cab door slammed shut.

“In,” he said firmly as the cab drove off. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stumbled towards your front door, keys in hand.

He arrived behind you, his impressive body casting a shadow over the door as lamplight caught him. You could feel him judging you as you fumbled with the keys, your fingers shaking, until eventually he stepped forwards and plucked them from your hand. His warm breath coasted down your neck as he leaned over to maneuver them in the lock, much more quietly and gracefully than your nervous hands could have done it.

“Over the couch.”

Not keen to disobey him further, you quickly hopped inside your warm front room, glancing over your shoulder to gauge his expression. Usually you delighted in playful sessions sat on the edge of the bed, but the couch meant business.

You hurried into the living room and headed for your slightly worn fabric couch. It was padded to accommodate Aizawa’s frequent naps, but the height of the arms meant that any time you bent over them, your butt pointed straight up in the air. You got yourself into position, sighing as your face, predictably, smushed straight into the cushions.

His shoes hit the floor in the other room. A swish of material told you he had taken his jacket off. In his socks, he was able to move around the house silently, and his voice from the doorway made you jump.

“Pants down,” was all he said, before promptly disappearing.

You groaned as you stood again, catching a glimpse of his white shirt disappearing towards the kitchen. Trying to avoid the gaze of the cat statue on the mantel, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers and tugged them down. Being so hasty about getting to the couch, you had neglected to take your shoes off (and you half-hoped that wouldn’t result in a harsher punishment, half-hoped it would), and had to settle for pooling your pants around your ankles.

He hadn’t said anything about underwear, so you left it up as you got back into position. You sensed he liked it better that way- more to play with.

You blinked the dust from the sofa out of your eyes as you waited for him to return, feeling a chill run down your exposed thighs. It wasn’t a comfortable position, and the pants restricting your leg movement made it all the harder to balance.

He couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes- after all, he was probably as excited to get started as you- but at the same time you were concerned that maybe he wouldn’t come back at all. Maybe lying here for the entire night was your punishment- or, worse, maybe he was upstairs right now, hurriedly packing his bags to sneak out the front door.

You didn’t hear him enter the room, of course. What you did hear, much closer than you had expected, was the sound of his belt buckle. You craned your neck to look at him, heart pounding and your lower regions tightening in anticipation as he folded the thick leather strap over in his hands. His fingers stroked down it as he saw you staring. They weren’t moving in a graceful, easy motion- the belt was too rough and worn for that. He circled them around the top of the loop, staring down at you and licking his lips.

“How many minutes late were we?” he asked.

You breathed in carefully. “Seventeen minutes.”

“Seventeen what?”

You hung your head.

“Seventeen minutes, master.”

He didn’t respond. You assumed he was nodding.

“That seems like a good place to start, don’t you think?” You didn’t answer- he didn’t want you to. “On top of that, there’s those extra few for staring at Midnight’s chest-”

You pushed yourself up on your hands, ready to protest.

“I didn’t-”

Crash!

Warm pain flooded through your buttocks. You had barely had time to register his movement. Heart pounding, you took a moment to caress where the belt had just landed.

“And one extra for trying to argue with me.”

His fingers appeared on your wrist. He pushed your arm to the side. The material of his trousers brushing your nude skin, he leaned over to play with your underwear, smoothing the waistband against your skin before pinching it together and yanking it upwards. You gasped as you felt the fabric pinch against your body, lifting your ass into the air as he tugged the material into your cleft, leaving a much wider canvas of warming skin.

He tapped the belt against the swell of your rear.

“Start counting from two,” he commanded.

You nodded, and braced yourself.

Wallop! Your entire torso lifted off the couch as the weight of the belt slammed into your ass, leaving you out of breath- and it was only the second strike.

“Were you expecting a warm-up?” he said. You nodded, blinking away the moisture that was already beginning to pool in your eyes. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have wasted so much of our time, earlier.”

He tapped the belt firmly against your skin, but hadn’t made his next strike yet. He was giving you a chance.

“What number?”

“Two, master…” you mumbled, tucking your hands away to keep them from springing back to defend your rear.

“Good. You can’t get ready on time, but you can count.”

The weight of the belt left your skin.

“Three!” you choked out. “Four!”

He paused again, the cool, warning presence of the belt leather laid against your skin as always.

“You’re getting sloppy. There’s a certain word I haven’t been hearing from you for the last two strikes.”

He swung the belt, which landed explosively against your right cheek. You rolled your hips to alleviate the sting, wincing.

“Five, master…! Six- six, master! Seven…master!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you repeat them.”

The next three hits came with such speed, you were still halfway through counting number nine by the time ten had landed. He gave you a brief moment to recover. Your legs lifted in the air together, still bound by your own trousers, as you tried to jerk the sting away.

As they settled back in place, ready for number eleven, you felt a delightful warmth run across both cheeks. Your privates pulsed insistently, emboldened by the rush of blood to their neighbouring regions.

“Are you sorry for making us late?”

The belt was already making its journey through the air as you opened your mouth to reply.

“Yes, I’m sorry for- eleven, master! Yes, I’m sorry for- twelve!”

“What was that?” He struck you again, his face like granite as he listened to you whimper out the number thirteen.

“I’m sorry for- ah, ow!”

“That didn’t sound like a number.”

“Fourteen! Ah-ow! Fifteen!”

You felt his hand on your skin, blissfully cold to dispel the angry heat across your cheeks. He rubbed them soothingly, but his voice still had a warning tone.

“You’re getting sloppy on your ‘masters’ again. Do I need to repeat what I told you with the belt?”

“No, no!” You shook your head firmly. His large hand suddenly crashed against your ass, once for each cheek. “Ah!”

“Lucky for you, I decided to use my hand. Wasn’t that nice?” You nodded. Two fingers wormed their way underneath the fabric of your underwear, grazing your cleft and making you moan as they tickled the sensitive spot. “I think you should thank me.”

“Thank…thank you, master…” you said, arching your ass into his fingers. They left you promptly, only to be followed by another strike from the belt. This one ripped across your upper thighs.

“That’s…sixteen, master!” you gasped. The pain from the blow had made you jolt forwards against the arm of the couch. The couch fabric had caught against the front of your underwear, pulling it down and causing curls of your exposed pubic hair to drag against the material, evoking an unsubtle groan.

Aizawa snorted as he lifted the belt from where it had landed between your thighs, and yanked your underwear back into your cleft. All that did was force your body against the couch, the friction making more soft moans bubble out of your mouth.

“You’re not supposed to enjoy yourself so much when you’re being punished,” he told you. “I don’t want to hear another sound out of you unless you’re counting these blows. If I do, I’ll start over. Understand?”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from making any noise, and nodded your head.

Seventeen landed, its weight coming unevenly against your right cheek again. As you counted it, making an effort to keep your voice even, Aizawa balanced his hand on your cheeks, thumbs swirling against your flesh as he stepped to the other side.

“Eighteen, master!” This one seemed to flip the pattern, with the pain searing against your left side instead.

Nineteen was a difficult one to get through. The angle of the belt changed mid-flight, the leftover force causing it to slap against your left cheek and immediately spring against your privates.

“Ni-nineteen, master!” you yowled, turning your lustful moan into your words to keep him from hearing it. The strength of your voice seemed to have drowned out an apology from him, and for the final blow, his hand settled against the small of your back.

“Last one, my pet…” he mumbled as he lifted the belt. You hummed and squirmed into his touch as you waited for the blow to land.

“Twenty, master!” you said almost as soon as it landed. The pain faded quickly, dulled by the intense need growing in your loins.

Immediately, his hand stroked down your back, and he picked you up from the couch to pull you close to him.

“Aren’t you so good, taking all those blows like that?” he said, massaging your flushed rear. You both looked down at the visibly sore skin as he pulled your underwear back into place. As you leaned into him to pull your pants back up, you felt a distinct lump against his leg.

“Now who’s the one enjoying punishment too much?” you teased him, yelping as his hand laid a stark reminder of who got to tease who on your abused butt.

“Don’t make me do that all over again,” he mumbled, bringing your lips together in a deep kiss. You nuzzled your face into his scratchy jaw, tipping forwards as he ended it, and started moving towards the stairs.

You grinned as you watched him go, following close behind. The loose material of the suit trousers wrapped around his thigh as he ascended the steps, and you couldn’t help but reach out to give him a taste of what he’d been doing to you all evening.

“Don’t,” he said as your hand left his firm ass cheek, but he couldn’t do much more than simply admonish you as he climbed the stairs. “I’ll spank you again. Don’t even try it.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” you said, taking his hand and drooping into him as you arrived at the top of the staircase. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, preparing to open the bedroom door. “You’re too horny. And besides, I don’t think I could take another spanking this evening even if I-”

The bedroom door swung open, and the light clicked on. You both stood wrapped around each other in the doorway as you surveyed the scene in front of you. Clothes upon clothes upon clothes- almost the entire contents of your share of the wardrobe- lay scattered across the room, littering the floor, the bed…

His arms tightened around you. The walls of the bedroom flashed before your eyes as he hauled you towards the bed.

“Wait! No! Ah, kitty…!”

[juliettalfacharlie]

Day 4, alt: Visiting a Grave

CW graphic death, gun violence, suicide, acceptance of death, and drugs.

The previous two years, she'd shaken with emotion. First with anger, then grief. Anniversaries weren't necessarily special dates; they weren't anything she looked forward to or dreaded, but it was still jarring to realize how much time had passed. She'd experienced a minute of disbelief when she first recognized it'd been a year since her wife was with her.

It was customary in the Earth Kingdom to show respect only towards elders. When parents lost their children, no vigils were held, for it wasn't acceptable to honour those your junior.

It was a practice that thankfully hadn't taken roots in Republic City. Kya wouldn't have cared, regardless. She was hurting, damnit, and that wasn't lessoned because Lin was three years younger than she.

Now, 1,095 days past her lover's death, Kya was finally in a place of peace. Not with Lin's killer, or the circumstances surrounding it. She didn't believe she'd ever accept that.

The two had been walking out to their car after an evening dinner, and Lin sensed an altercation a block away. Kya sat in the Satomobile while Lin cautiously neared, concerned over a potential mugging or assault. It hadn't felt like anything serious, especially compared to what both women had already seen.

Lin used her seismic sense when she'd crossed half the distance, seeing two figures. One was pressed against the wall, the target, while the other stood in front of them, the instigator.

She treaded as quietly as possible, peeking around the corner to assess the situation.

There were two men, both tall and muscular. The assailant held something Lin originally believed to be a small baton, but as it caught light from the streetlamps, Lin saw it was a handgun. They weren't exceedingly common, due to being new inventions that were quite costly, but the amount of nonbenders in Republic City meant they were more concentrated here compared to other nations.

Lin desperately wished for her old spool of cables, but she'd retired them fifteen years prior, and they'd been gifted to the top metalbending prospect at the time of her departure.

The weapon was pointed at the victim, so any surprise attack risked him firing. She instead went for a civil approach, calling from behind the corner, "Step away and put your weapon down." she instructed, hearing his loud gasp.

"Who's there? Don't come close or I'll shoot!" the attacker yelled. His voice was strained, likely from fear.

"You haven't done anything yet, kid. Just set the gun on the floor, and we can talk about it." she replied, using a tone of placating authority. She displayed power without intimidation; the other man was acting on pure emotions, he needed to feel like he had an ally.

"I don't want to talk. That's not going to do shit to bring back my brother." he said, and Lin heard a head hit the concrete wall.

"Killing someone else won't either. It's also not going to make you feel the pain any less. The only thing it'll accomplish is ending your own life as well." she told him, voice softening just slightly. One constant in life would always be violence, and there would always be people hurt by it. Lin stepped around the corner, hands up in submission.

The gunman yelped, swinging the weapon towards her. "Hey, I know you! You're a cop!" he said, and Lin had a full view of his face. He was young; not boyishly so, but somewhere in his early 20's.

"I'm not an officer anymore, but the experience I have means I know exactly how this can end up. I don't want to see that happen to you; there's so much left to experience." she told him, calm under his pressure.

His hands trembled just so, eyes full of pain. "There would have been if it weren't for him!" he yelled, turning his head to the other man.

His face was bloody but he looked otherwise unharmed. "It's not my fault the idiot overdosed, I just gave him the shit." he argued, and the young man clenched more firmly around the gun.

Lin intervened quickly, taking attention off of the loudmouthed dealer, "I know what it's like to lose a sibling. My younger sister. My mom took her side, so it felt like I was entirely alone, but I found joy in my job. In my hobbies and friends. It made that pain feel much more manageable, and I couldn't be happier right now." she explained, eyes not straying from his face.

"I don't have any of that. I just had him." he said, shaking his head.

"For a long time I didn't either. I held onto my anger for decades, and it prevented me from fully enjoying myself. I don't want that to happen to someone else," she told him, "It wasn't until I was 52, actually, until I let that go. I didn't get closure, and the people who hurt me never apologized, but I saw how much harm it had done to me. Shortly after, I started talking to the woman I came to marry. She's the best person I know; beautiful, kind, insightful, she brought out the best parts in me, and I found myself wanting to be happy for her.

"If it's too difficult to feel joy with yourself, would you pity an old woman and feel it for me? I promise you, this hopelessness isn't permanent." Lin said, watching as the man slowly relaxed his grip and lowered the weapon.

"How about you start by telling me about him, hm?" she encouraged. He kept the weapon up, pointed at her knee, but his shoulders had dropped.

"His name was Mingyu. I was eight when he was born, and I was so excited. We didn't have a lot of money, and mom and dad were always working, so I had to look after him instead of going to school.

"I taught him what I had learned, and he was so smart. I got a job to make sure he could go to school when he turned 6. He was so good at kuai ball.

"We lost our dad this year, and Yu took it so hard. I was too busy with my job to see it, but he at school he started- why didn't I just-" the man finally lowered the gun, eyes welling up.

"Kids make mistakes. It's not your fault that Mingyu slipped." Lin told him, taking a cautious step forward.

The man didn't respond, so she continued to close the distance.

Lin straightened, feeling the distinct thud of metal-soled boots. The police had been called before she showed up.

"Hey, give me the gun and we can keep talking." She urged, and he looked up at her, startled by her change in tone.

"RCPD, hands where I can see them!" an officer behind her bellowed. Lin felt a pit open in her stomach, watching the emotions flash across the man's face.

In a moment the gun was back up, four feet away and aimed right between her eyes. "You lied to me!" he shouted, and pulled the trigger.

Kya had heard the shot, and immediately she knew what had happened. She felt a tug in her soul, similar to the feeling when her mother passed, and she sat in the passengers seat for hours, unable to move.

The man who murdered Lin was only 22. His name was Han. He ended up receiving life in prison for killing the former police chief, compared to the 30 he would have gotten if he killed the drug dealer, but he instead hanged himself in his holding cell. He was survived solely by his mother, and Kya deeply pitied her, but it was because of her son that she was now a widow.

It was unbelievable to imagine Lin losing her life there, in the alleyway fifteen years retired from the police force, instead of the dozen times she'd been severely injured, or the hundreds where she'd faced worse danger. Kya forgot, sometimes, in the beginning. She'd return to the empty house and think Lin must be in the backyard, or wake up in a cold bed expecting the smell of Lin's favoured morning tea, tieguanyin, to have permeated upstairs.

Kya had been so achingly raw with pain. She'd felt nothing like it before, where the jagged edges of her grief made her lash out instead, but for months she hated Lin for having left her. Spirits damn her noble nature.

After five months the wounds finally soothed, but she'd been terribly surprised to feel its return when she visited Lin's grave a year past her demise.

She then felt guilt over her reaction; Lin had told her countless times how Kya had "saved" her. Shown her love, and helped her realize to be cared for wasn't negative. Kya wished so desperately just to speak to her once more. To thank her for all that she gave, and ensure Lin knew how deeply she'd been loved.

The second anniversary was when she felt sorrow, but in the past year she'd received news that wasn't altogether bad. It made the third occurrence pass with far less grief.

Kya had been experiencing chest pains and severe shortness of breath. From her own diagnosis, she surmised her heart was giving out, but a healer in the city confirmed it with ease. There wasn't too much surprise given her age, approaching 84, her lifestyle, not always the healthiest, and the compounding emotional experiences she'd weathered.  While she'd never looked forward to death, she found that she was ready for it whenever the time came.

It was almost freeing, sitting in front of Lin's grave without the cloud of overwhelming emotion. She didn't visit her final resting place except for this anniversary, as she'd been buried in the Beifong family's tomb all the way in the Earth Kingdom. Lin had been rigid on tradition that way, even if Toph insisted against it and Su planned to start her own in Zaofu. Kya had only wanted to honour her wishes; being with her mortal body didn't give her a particular sense of closeness. She sensed Lin at random moments regardless of her location, which had been one hint she hadn't yet chosen reincarnation. Her spirit had remained hidden despite thorough searching in the Spirit World, but Kya knew she was only waiting for Kya's time.

And with it nearing, for the first time she faced the gilded headstone with a glimmer of hope.

[oftenderweapons]

Love Talk - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 6.1k words

Genre: romance, minor fluff, mild smut

Rating: suggested 18+

Hello cuties! Welcome to the Love Talk scenarios.

In these small series we’ll see how the guys handle the turn-ons turn-offs conversation, talking about their previous relationships, kinks and limits.

In this first piece we’ll see how our perfect leader plays his cards with his not-yet girlfriend, fondly nicknamed Vixen. It’s their fifth date and Vixen meets him at hers for a lovely homecooked meal. Expect the situation to escalate. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol (wine), swearing, toxic past relationships. Discussion of sexual topics, [DDLG/daddy kink, oral, voyeurism, sex toys and impact play, restraints (handcuffs and manacles, spreader bars), lingerie fetish, discipline and rules, mind games, pornography, slight roleplay, sensation play, edging, orgasm deprivation and control, bruising and marking kink, blindfolds. Mentions of angst about Vixen’s past relationship. Mentions of a series of hard limits (hardcore bdsm, heavy pain kink, knife play, electric play, suspension play, water sports, degradation and humiliation, chastity devices, infantilization, dubious consent, asphyxiation, triple penetration, touch deprivation). Just in case you didn’t know already, Vixen is a brat and Joon is the smoothest brat tamer to exist (Can you imagine him sweet talking and tricking his brat into obedience? I. Am. Shaking.)

Wordcount: 6.1k (listen, these two flirt a lot, they like talking to each other and Joon could dirty talk for days. Anything less than 5k would be an insult to them and I GOT CARRIED AWAY) Also, here is my Masterlist

Do you want to read what happened next? You can find it here!

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He didn’t expect it. Yeah, last time you’d made out in the backseat, the driver hopefully uninterested in your anthem, but that doesn’t mean he expected you to ask him out. Usually he was the one texting first and asking out.

International, Korean or fusion? The text read. 

Are you thinking of bringing me lunch?

I’m thinking of asking you out this Saturday. If you’re free, of course.

Picnic at Han river? He asked, hopeful.

They say it’s gonna be stormy. Dinner at mine. I’ll cook.

You can cook? His computer went on screensaver mode. He was too caught up texting. He was already done with the demo anyway. 

You’ll see. You teased. 

He smirked. Then it’s a deal. Want me to bring wine and dessert?

Just wine, you wrote before adding a flirty smirk. 

He was blushing. You’re so naughty. He replied. A pause. Cook your signature dish.

Don’t get ideas. You texted back cheekily. 

That was nice. However, a few seconds later you found yourself questioning how long it would take you to lose your cool and throw yourself at him. The night was going to be disastrous. 

That’s how you found a drenched Namjoon on your doorstep the following Saturday. “Sorry, my umbrella broke on the way. I’m a mess.” He spoke, checking how bad he looked, the words spilling out of his mouth lightning fast. With an apologetic smile he looked up at you, his jaw going slack, a little shocked. “Wow.”

He noticed you had dolled yourself up. You blushed and thanked him for the compliment quickly, your main interest focused on taking care of his situation. You quickly dragged him in, already fussing over him before he got cold, your apprehensive side taking control.

You smiled at him and asked him to wait for a towel. When you came back you noticed he was wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, now perfectly sticking to his skin. You were ready for self-ignition. Fortunately, you managed to find a spot for his dripping jacket and tell him to get comfy. He was already barefoot, his sandals on your entry mat. You offered him your oversized sleeping t-shirt and left as he dried himself and got dressed. 

“Let me see if I have a pair of sweats for you.” You came back a few minutes later with some basketball shorts you didn't even know you had. “Sorry, I don’t have boxers. You could use one of my thongs, if you fancy those.” You smirked, giving him an awkward thumbs-up. He snickered at that, shaking his head. 

God, he felt fond of you already. 

After a few minutes he was sitting at the kitchen table, looking like boyfriend material in his exceedingly domestic outfit, and fidgeting with his hands. Previously you had led him to the bathroom, giving him space to change and asking him to give you his stuff so you could put it in the dryer. In the meantime he had noticed the small details in your bathroom. Your pink toothbrush. Your sleeping robe hanging from the heater. And a small collection of delicate lace — too delicate for machine washing and drying — hanging from a small rack. 

Fuck. 

“It’s almost ready. I hope you like lasagna. It’s a classic.” You called from the stove. 

“That’s nice.” He admitted. “It feels amazing in here. Smells good. And it’s nice, toasty. Great autumn vibes.”

He was probably talking out of nerves. He should stop. He was painfully close to slapping himself.

“Thank you. I know you like hardwood. And that’s exactly the vibe I go for.” You said referring to your furniture.

“Your house is truly lovely, ____.” He spotted more details, trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach, both from nerves and the mouth-watering scent coming from the oven.

“I’ll give you a tour later. Don’t expect a lot, though. It’s just the living room, the studio and the bedroom. Other than the bathroom and kitchen, that is.”

Bedroom. Hell. Keep calm, Namjoon, she said don’t get ideas. “I’d love to.”

Dinner was easy, you talked about his job and your job, and how you’d moved to Seoul and found that incredible, small apartment in such an exclusive neighbourhood. 

Together with conversation flowed the wine. You both were red cheeked by the end of the meal and your head felt a bit light when you stood up. He noticed and smirked kindly. “Need help?” A hand sweetly supporting your waist. 

You were standing in front of him now and you couldn’t help but notice how his head reached your navel while he was sitting. “Have I already told you you look breathtaking tonight?”

You blushed. “Maybe.” You stroked his hair back, the gesture incredibly intimate. He closed his eyes and pushed his head against your hands, inviting you to do that again. You obliged. “And you look ravishing in my pink and frilly sleeping shirt.” You joked. 

“Yeah I feel incredibly cute. But don’t jump my bones, please. Right now this place feels like the dragon’s den.” He confessed. “And you keep luring me in.”

“I might eat you. Be careful.” You teased. “This dragon can be very hungry.”

He looked up at you and smiled, his eyes crincling. “That sounds amazing.” 

You took your chance and poked his dimple, then you grabbed his hands and removed them from your waist, getting ready for dessert. You started collecting the dishes and bringing them to the dishwasher, leaving only the wine and glasses on the table. As you turned and bent he let his eyes run down your tight-fitting dress, biting his lip as he noticed the lack of panty lines on your behind. “Do I get the dessert now?” He growled quietly. You turned your head, pretty sure that he was enjoying the view, which you had no intention ruining.

“Have you been a good boy?” You questioned playfully. 

“I’m always good.” He replied “Maybe not a good boy, but good for sure.”

“You can go in the living room, we’ll eat dessert there.” You directed him. 

He let his hand caress your lower back, catching your attention. “Need me to take the wine and glasses there?” He asked.

“Yes, thanks, sweetie.” You whispered, somehow entranced by the small touch. 

You were starting to get intimate and it felt right. Comfortable. You took a few minutes to yourself, cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, then trying to get dessert ready, your movements slower both because of the wine and because you felt like you needed more time to get psychologically ready for him and your bantering.

Meanwhile he reached the other room and fumbled around a little, searching for the light switch. Suddenly the place felt comfy. And dangerous. The lights were low, the sofa looked soft and inviting with a big woolen comforter thrown over it. 

You were well-read. He knew that already, but noticing the big library and the books laying a little bit everywhere really made him wonder how many things you knew. He put down the glasses and bottle and explored, careful of where he put his feet. 

You had Korean books and English ones. A few in one or multiple languages he didn’t know. On your wall there were a few movie posters. Studio Ghibli. The Grand Budapest Hotel. Lost in Translation. Lolita. 

He knew that one. He would ask about that later. 

Moving back to the library he noticed other books he knew. The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Again, Lolita. The Memoirs of a Geisha. The Delta of Venus. A thorough guide to the language of sex… A thorough what?

“You found my forbidden stash.” You asked him, propped against the door jamb, dessert in one hand, spoons in the other. 

“If it’s forbidden, then why are you displaying it so openly.” He asked, moving away and innocently sitting on one edge of the sofa, legs closed, trying to occupy as little space as possible.

“No one visits here, usually. And why should I hide being interested in erotism?” You laid the heavy bowl on the table. “It’s tiramisu. It’s coffee-based. I thought you would like it. If you’re bold enough I might tell you the story of it.”

“Come on, try me.” He teased.

“It was invented in Italy. It’s said that prostitutes would make it to reinvigorate their clients.” You took a spoon and dipped it in before bringing it to your mouth. 

He laughed. “Really.”

“It’s a quite popular legend.” You smiled. 

“Did you learn that in The thorough guide to the language of sex?” He asked flirtily, his ears blushing.

“I learnt that during my cuisine lessons.” You replied matter-of-factly.

“And what did you learn from that interesting book?” He wondered, keeping eye contact as he fed himself some cake.

“A lot of things, actually.” You lowered your eyes, playing hard to get. 

“And have you ever used them?” He asked, his curiosity now poked and fully awakened.

“Are you asking me if I’ve had sex before?” You questioned.

He shook his head. “I assumed you have.” He stopped, embarrassed. “I mean, you’re in your mid-twenties and you mentioned having a couple past relationships.”

“Correct. Even though those factors are actually insignificant. But yeah, I’ve done it before.” You shrugged. “So have you, right?”

“Yes. I’ve had three committed relationships. A few casual flings. That’s it.” He admitted, completely unbothered by the fact. 

You looked at him, swallowing your mouthful before asking: “Now we’re gonna talk bodycounts and turn-ons, right?”

“Only if you want to, darling.” His voice became soft, caring. He was your boy now. 

“Then yeah. Well, let’s go through some history.” You poured some wine in both glasses and took a sip of yours. “Lost my virginity at 19. First serious boyfriend. He was a lot older than me. A lot. Like a loooot.”

“How old?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Like… twelve years...” You said, as if it were a question. 

“He was… thirty-one?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah...” You exhaled. 

“And why did it end?” he asked. 

“We were together for two years. Then he wanted family. I wanted career. Seems fair.” You told briefly.

“He must have been important, then.” He assumed out loud.

“We’re actually still friends. He has a family. But he really made me what I am. Actually, he helped me grow up and past some traumas.” You admitted with a smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, again warm and comforting. 

“The usual. Daddy issues.” You giggled. 

He bit his lip anxiously. Now what?

“I was overly responsible from a young age. I wanted rules, restrictions. Attention from my parents. I was always wound up tight and with no one taking care of me.” You shrugged. “He helped me find an outlet and discover how my mind works. I realised sometimes I just need someone to take care of me when I'm too tired to do it myself.”

“I noticed the Lolita theme. I was going to ask you about that, honestly. Is that what you’re into?” He asked, tiptoeing around the huge black hole that was calling to him. Asking you to get into his lap and then praise and cuddle you until the little girl eventually came out to play. 

“Are you asking me if I have a daddy kink or if I like owning multiple versions of the same book in different languages?” You asked, putting some humour in the heavy conversation you would be diving into shortly. 

“Obviously the different versions.” He shrugged with a teasing smile. 

“Yes.” You took another small sip. “To both of those.”

He felt like he needed to stretch his neck. “I’m glad this came up.”

“I’m pretty sure you have one yourself, don’t you?” You licked your lips before taking some more dessert.

He took a sip of his wine. “Yes. I think.”

“From one to ten, how far up?” You asked, eyes sparkling bright.

“I would say eight. Maybe nine.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re safe with me. I was hoping that by now you knew I wouldn’t ever judge you.” You murmured, a pout on your lip. 

“A solid nine. But I won’t go higher up. There’s some kinky stuff out there that I’m seriously not into.”

“What’s that?”

“Stuff like pacifiers and drawings and plushies and playing tea party. That’s not me.”

“No, I’m not into infantilization either.” You agreed. “Honestly I’m more of a brat than a baby girl.” Now that the ball was rolling it was easier getting to the core of things, using terms and explaining kinks. The initial dive is always traumatic, but now you only had to swim. Metaphorically speaking.

“I could tell.” he smirked. “Too teasing and independent to keep your head low and say “yes, sir”, aren’t you?”

“You got me.” You lifted your eyes to him, batting your lashes a couple times. “And where’s the fun in that? The fun is in the chase. All the sweet talking and the manhandling that lead to surrender and conquest. I need to be won, earned, deserved. Of course I will bend, but I want you to show me how much you want me, how far you’re willing to go to get me. If it suits my taste, I will give in.”

He swallowed and took another spoonful of tiramisu. You were getting to his head faster than the wine. “So you’re a brat.” He stated, then licking his lip. 

You nodded. 

“What else are you into?” He asked, his stare dark and serious. 

You subtly clenched your legs. “I like the fight. I like the sensationof my partner overpowering me. But I also like feeling loved and taken care of.”

“That’s right and natural, darling.” He supported you. 

You felt your body caving in slowly, the desire in his eyes felt intoxicating and the sweet understanding and tenderness oozing from his mouth made you want to please him immensely. You were already yielding without him even touching you. “I like rules.”

“Oh, you do, sweetie?” He lured you in, inviting you to share more details. 

“They make me feel like the other person is giving me boundaries to protect me.” You confessed.

“I like those too.” He diminished the power imbalance between the two of you, showing you his more delicate side. “I like giving them. And I like receiving them. I also feel like the other person is teaching me how to respect them. How to love them right. And is also indirectly protecting me from harm.”

“That’s right.” You agreed. “That’s exactly how I feel.” You smiled shyly. 

“Do you like punishment, in any forms?” He asked, his voice so delicate it felt like a butterfly landing on the tip of your nose.

You blushed and exhaled. “I like spankings.” You bit your lips, hiding your face in your hands.

He caressed your hands tenderly. “I’d love to spank your perfect ass, Vixen.”

You giggled at the nickname. He’d used it at the end of your fourth date, when your hand had started playing with his belt.

Mood lightened, you lifted your head, smiling brightly. “I like it barehanded. It’s my favourite. But I also like the paddle and the hairbrush.”

“Not afraid of bruises?” A shiver ran down his spine, even though his blood was boiling. 

“Not really.” You took more dessert. He stared at the spoon as it disappeared in your mouth, your lips latching and sucking at the silverware. His eyes then moved to your fingers as they held the spoon elegantly but energetically. “Actually the more the better. But tell me about you.”

He took in a deep breath before exhaling quickly. “I like bruising. Of different sorts. As I said, I’d love to cover your behind in those, if you’ll ever allow me to, that is.” He put down the spoon after he realised he was gesticulating with it. Dangerous. He was getting dumber. “This might sound very horny teenager but I like hickeys. Loads of them. Like marking. I really like marking.”

Your attention sparked up. He could claim you like that whenever he wanted to. 

“And other stuff like biting. Licking. A lot of mouth activity in general.” He admitted, toying with his hands and shifting in his seat.

You couldn’t contain a small squeal and a giggle. “Oral fixation. Sounds nice. I have that too. Official member of the oral squad.” You grinned as you saw the gleam in his eyes. You took a small pause analysing your next move. “However, I can assume from your size that you’re a lot.” You gestured to his shoulders and height.

He only opened his mouth, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze. 

“And my gag reflex sucks. So I can only guarantee you I’ll try. Enthusiastically. Over and over.”

He felt like evaporating. “The only thing that counts is that you’re okay with receiving.” He waited for your answer expectantly, eyebrows raised, heartbeat galloping.

“Yes. Anytime.” You deadpanned. Eyes already closing at the thought of his mouth between your legs. “But don’t expect me to be shy about it. I will ask for it. Repeatedly. Until I’m a blabbering mess.”

He could make you a blabbering mess right in that second. He took a deep breath. Don’t start thinking of that.

“Come on, say it.” You flirted. 

He laughed his big old grandpa laugh. “Say what?” He looked at you, happy and excited.

“Come on, you’ve admitted it to national tv but won’t talk to me about it.”

“Oh, you mean porn.” He blushed to the tip of his ears. “Fuck. I’m so fucking dumb.”

“Just clumsy. It’s lovely.” You complimented. “It’s a nice contrast to the hot daddy look you have eighty percent of the time. But don’t get distracted. Talk to me about your voyeurism kink.” You spurred him on. You needed to unlock that part of him. Craved it. 

“Okay, fine. but we’re getting back to the hot daddy part later.”

“I’ll make sure of that.” You quipped. God, the chemistry was getting insane.

"Honestly, back then I used to watch it a lot more. Now I'm sort of… Lazier. It's so difficult finding what I like, and actually liking it the way it is carried out." 

"Like, you're not sure you like how they're doing it." You suggested.

He clicked his tongue in agreement. "Yes. And it just lacks that… Spark. The intimacy, you know." 

"Yeah, I know. That's why I one night stands aren’t it for me. I need to build that trust.” You admitted. 

"I feel the same. And I get it, sex is amazing and everything, but only when you do it right. Like — with the right person. Someone that understands you and someone you're free enough to do it with. Someone you know, mentally and emotionally."

"Sex that comes from knowing and understanding is so much more intense." You said with a dreamy tone.

He looked at your face, longing blatant on your lineaments. He wished he could give you that. He wished he could take it from you. "That's the right word. Intense. You know, like the way lovers look at each other, like ‘yeah, I know your tits look great but you know what looks even greater? The way your chest flushes when you're close and your eyelids flutter and you subconsciously wet your lip with that little, oh-so-familiar flick of tongue’."

You felt your body soften at the words, secretly answering to his description. "You just explained intimacy." You agreed, nodding along and picking up a spoonful of dessert. 

"That's why I watch a lot more amateur stuff these days. I would never have the audacity to film anything — too risky for my taste — but I like watching, at least."

"And how do you feel about watching… Live?" You asked, curious but also guarded. 

"You mean watching my partner as she touches herself?" He asked, eyes blown wide.

"Yes." You said, shrugging.

He licked his lips and gulped, though his mouth was awfully dry. Wine. That's what he needed. 

As he downed a large sip, you waited for his answer expectantly, almost ready to change topic when he started talking. 

"Yeah." His voice was deeper now and an obscure part of you stood to attention, your hearing enhanced to capture any order he was ready to give you. None came. "I would love to. I love looking at a confident woman showing off her lingerie —  and don’t think I forgot about your little collection.” He licked his lips and parted his legs, trying to ease his discomfort. “Sadly, I think that the vision would be an exercise in restraint, since I have zero patience and I can't stand being provoked. But I would watch, were she to touch herself with bare hands or with… Toys."

Lord, save me. You thought, your legs squeezing tighter. 

This time it seemed Namjoon had noticed, although he did not show any reaction except for a cocky smirk, which he hid readily. 

"If it's such an exercise in patience maybe some restraints could help you rein yourself in." You suggested. 

"Being tied up by you as I watch you take off your lovely, expensive lingerie set and then watch you touch yourself? Is that what you're asking me?" 

"A girl can dream." You teased with a cheshire grin.

"Good thing dreams do sometimes come true." He suggested, an eyebrow raised, mouth quirked to the side, panty-dropping dimple in tow.

You smiled and moved half an inch closer to him. 

"You said once you did it a lot more. How much then and how much now?

"Well, back then I did it at least once a day or every two days. Now it's three times a week, roughly." He looked just slightly ashamed, but not really. You couldn't quite decypher his mind in that second. "May I ask about your… Needs."

Your brow creased, fingers entangling. "If I watch stuff? Or how often?" 

He looked stuck somewhere in his brain and you tried helping him out. "Yeah."

Both, then. "Not films. Usually it's just pictures or short clips. When I'm especially needy I might listen to audios—” 

"Of people having sex?" 

You nodded. "Yeah, or just having some alone fun-time. "

God, he wanted one of those. Of you. "That sounds interesting." 

"Sounds interesting in more ways than one, indeed." You offered back with an innuendo. 

Your silver tongue and quick brains would be the end of him. "Talking with you is like a dangerous tango. Like that scene from Mr and Mrs Jones."

You laughed. "I'll have to catch up on that one."

"We could watch it together, next time." He suggested. 

"I'd love to." You were sure that watching the film would probably be the last thing you’ll do. If you did it at all… "About frequency…" You took a pause, trying to verbalise decently what you felt wasn't decent at all. "I must say I'm quite high maintenance."

He poked your side, leaning across the sofa, but staying respectfully two feet away from you. He wanted to see if you would come closer. "Don't be shy. You made me grade my daddiness, now grade how needy you are from one to ten."

"Nine?" You were getting panicked. "Ten?" 

"How often, baby?" His voice was so deep and husky it made your stomach shake with the reverberations of it. 

"Like normally at least once a day?" You confessed in a shrill, insecure voice. 

He nodded with a dark smirk. "Very needy indeed." He turned towards you slightly, his body language showing openness and inviting you to cuddle up next to him. 

He wanted to touch you. Platonically. He wanted to comfort you throughout this conversation as you opened up and showed your vulnerabilities to him, but he also wanted to respect the distance you were keeping. Little did he know it was just a facade. All you wanted was to feel his hands combing your hair, his solid chest pillowing your head, his lips whispering sweet nothings at your ear. 

"So you said you like rules, spankings, power struggles and discipline, anything oral, toys and mature content. Anything else you need me to know, little vixen?" He asked, and the addition of "little" to your nickname made you understand that you were completely out of your mind for this man. You were ready for anything he commanded you. 

"I like restraints." You admitted. "I tend to fight back a little unless my daddy sweet talks me into things. Sometimes I like feeling a bit helpless, like my daddy can manhandle me and maneuver me into positions. That's why I like harnesses and cuffs, especially thigh cuffs. Also spreader bars. And manacles. I don't like handcuffs, they hurt and leave marks which are a bit difficult to hide, and embarrassing to explain."

Namjoon's mouth watered at the thought of thigh cuffs. Of the way your flesh would swell there, of how much skin there would be to bite. However, he also realised he had a lot to learn about you. And he needed to learn new things to play with you. 

"I am absolutely okay with that. I must admit I have never explored this deeply into restraints, so I need to tell you I'm inexperienced with stuff like spreader bars and bondage. I know basic knots for wrists, but that's it. I don't usually have much patience for shibari and the likes. The furthest I've gone is handcuffs and using ribbons or belts, on wrists only." He explained. 

"That's okay. Bondage is something too tricky for me too. Lengthy." You admitted. "Do you have any special need I should know of?" 

"Not really. Except privacy and absolute monogamy." He states coldly. "I like experimenting, and you mentioned a spreader bar earlier. I'd love to try that. Both on you and on myself. Same thing about manacles. They seem less aggressive than handcuffs."

You nodded and explained further. "The pressure is distributed on a wider surface, which minimises the risk of injuries and markings. Especially on rebellious… individuals." You chose your word carefully. 

Namjoon bit his lip and hummed in understanding. By now the discourse was getting highly technical, the need to verify and negotiate interests and limits coming to the surface. "We're both voyeurs, but I'll ask anyway, what about blindfolds?" 

"Soft limit. Really depends on how you handle it. I need constant reassurance and guidance, it really destabilizes me."

"Understood. I might be into those when paired with sensation play, but we'll get into that when the time is right." He conceded tenderly. "Just one last thing, baby. I need to know your hard limits. Stuff you really don't want to do."

"Degradation and humiliation are a big no no. My second — and most recent — relationship was with a degrading bastard. He hurt me in ways I'm not comfortable remembering."

"Okay, love." He looked you in the eyes and waited a second for your approval before caressing your face in comfort. 

"Stuff like hardcore BDSM, water sports, triple penetration and most anal play. And asphyxiation or choking."

Namjoon nodded quickly. "Anything else?" 

"Okay, orgasm denial and chastity devices are an absolute no. That should be it, about hard limits. There are a few things that make me safeword but that I can stand to a certain point, like edging, blindfolds, and touch deprivation."

Namjoon nodded once more, waiting for you to finish."Okay. I think that the only stuff I might meddle with is blindfolds and edging. I have no interest in controlling your orgasms — our aim is to please." He winked and smirked at you, your knees growing weaker and weaker. "Also, believe me when I say I tend to assume a very nourishing and protective role, therefore it would go against my nature to humiliate you or degrade you. I don't intend to attack your emotional stability, so if you're interested, we can tackle the problem with blindfolds a bit at a time. Same with edging, we'll take baby steps if you decide you trust me and want to give me the honour of trying." His brow creased as he tried to remember the other thing he wanted to say. "Oh, about touch deprivation, I always need my little one close to me, so you should never feel touch starved." He took a meditative pause." And I intend to touch you a lot, baby." 

You shivered and leaned closer to him, attracted to the comfortable nook he was creating while leaning on his side against the back cushions of your sofa. It looked so warm. And safe. 

He noticed your wandering glance and quickened the pace. He had ideas. And he needed you closer. 

"My hard limits are including other people in our intimate life. I don't share like that." He warned perentoriously. "Also, you know my clumsiness. If there's any chance that it could damage you, then there's no going that way. I'm thinking of stuff like knife play and kinks that involve obviously dangerous material. Like violet wands. Anything involving hardcore BDSM, suspension play, infantilization and dubious consent is a non-negotiable hard limit. Are you still with me, baby?"

You nodded, making eye contact. 

"Good. I might be interested in some anal play. No penetration and no strap-ons. Maybe rimming. Both giving and receiving. But we'll see. Same for sensation play." He scratched his neck, trying to think of things he doesn't like doing. "I don't like being edged and I have poor control of myself, so orgasm control and denial are kind of softish limits." And then you noticed the shift, like his spine getting straighter, his shoulders rolling back in the process, looking broader, still his voice came out sweet and caring. "Listen carefully now, little vixen. I have little tolerance for disobedience and insubordination. If you have a temper or challenge my dominance, you will have to face consequences. Also, I like claiming my partner entirely. What is mine is mine. I don’t like sharing. Infidelity is a deal breaker. Understood, ____?"

"Yes, sir." You replied, automatically, without even intending too. You did’t feel ready for that title. And sir felt neutral enough.

"Such nice manners." He praised with a proud smile. "Now, would you like to come closer, baby?" 

You batted your eyes a couple times. You were sliding into subspace quickly and you found yourself questioning whether it was a good idea to get closer. Still,  your body was faster than your brain, making you nod and crawl next to him, settling inside his embrace. "Can I sit on your lap, Joonie?" 

He blushed, smiling kindly at you. He was beginning to melt at your complicated charms. "Of course, babe." He sat elegantly with his back leaning against the sofa, legs slightly parted so you could place yourself between them, your thighs across his and your side pressed to his front as his arms slowly wrapped around you, ready to retreat at your first show of discomfort.  "Does it feel nice, darling?" 

"Yes." You whispered. You were so close to him, his body warm while the late summer night felt chilly on your skin.

He cupped your cheek with his hand and pulled your head to his breastbone, building a calm cocoon for you. "You mentioned I look like a hot daddy before. Care to elaborate, little one?" 

You purred at his term of endearment, cuddling into him some more. "You look so hot with your glasses on. Sometimes I close my eyes and still see you in your outfit for Gayo Daechukje in 2019. Grey three piece suit, necktie and glasses. Everyone was fantasising about you as their hot kinky professor in classroom roleplay."

He had some troubles reminiscing the details, but he saved in his mind some keywords. Glasses, suit, necktie, kinky professor roleplay. With your face burrowed in his chest, he propped his chin on top of you hair, his spare hand soothing your skin from your waist to your knee, raising goosebumps in its wake. 

"Did that outfit cause discomfort, baby thing?" He questioned, hands caressing your hair gently. 

"It did fuel some steamy dreams, yes." You conceded. 

"And did you wake up all hot and bothered for me?' He kept teasing. 

"Mh mh." You confirmed, head nodding slowly and timidly. 

His chest shook in a breathy laugh. "Poor little girl, so desperate for the hot professor."

He sounded so cruel, basking in your needy struggles. "I'm so lucky I'm a smart girl who can take care of herself." You counterattacked.

"Smart indeed. But now that I know maybe I can take care of it for you." He pressed a kiss to your head. It was the first time he did a gesture so tender and so intimate. 

"What else gets my little girl all ticklish and lightheaded?" He asked, curling tighter against you and around you. 

"When you call me little." You admitted. 

"Do you like it, ____?“

“Yes, Joonie. I like it a lot." You replied meeting his gaze. 

He leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to your earlobe, a spot he had discovered during your first make out session. "What if I whispered it here, little vixen?" 

Your eyes closed, lost in sensations, your insides clenching so violently that your body followed the movement, knees pressing against each other, thighs squeezing for relief.

"I guess you really like this spot, am I right, little girl?" He pushed you closer and you started recognising the shape of him against your hip. The basketball shorts he was wearing did no good job at hiding him. 

"Please Joonie."

"Please what, darling?" He pressed his lips there, kissing you with a featherlight touch, impossible to perceive, were not for the sound of his disclosing lips. The tip of his tongue met the skin there, your back arching into him. "When I first saw you you looked like a wet dream, _____, in your smart formal attire, looking like the most confident, adult, unbreakable woman in the world. Legs for days and an ass I wanna bite like a ripe, juicy peach. You looked polished like a model, negotiating over the price of a painting in a private gallery. You looked so damn hot." He bit into your neck, moving your hair aside. "You looked like the most refined and expensive thing I have ever seen. Polished, edgy. So sexy." He bit into you again. 

This time you whimpered. 

"I thought I stood no chance, with my clumsy character and boyish ways." He giggled, and his voice vibrated against your throat. "Now you're in my arms, all cosy and needy, begging me to please you with your big doll eyes and pretty, plush lips, behaving like the cutest, sweetest little girl I could ever dream of." He sucked at the column of your throat gently, hard enough to cause a blush but soft enough to avoid a bruise. He leaned closer to your ear. "You're my fucking wet dream, Vixen."

You whined loudly, turning your head towards him, hoping he would put you out of misery and kiss you. 

Instead he grabbed your cheeks passionately and murmured on your mouth, staring intently in your eyes. "All mine. To enjoy, to ruin. But most importantly to protect and nourish and care for." He kissed you like you were made of porcelain, lips stiff against yours, afraid of letting go. "What do you want, little girl?" 

You stared with equal intensity in his eyes. "Kiss me. Please, daddy, I'll be so good to you." You had no problem using his title this time, your brain completely surrendering to him.

"Good girl." And as you felt your lungs bloom at the praise, wetness pooling between your legs, you slowly gave in to him, opening your mouth, letting his tongue dance with yours, mixing with the fruity taste of the wine and the creamy texture of the dessert. His hand stayed at your waist while the other, once gripping your face, slithered into your hair and cupped your nape, dragging you closer. You didn't know what to do with your hands. 

He kept kissing you as your lungs began burning, his technique impeccable. He kissed you thoroughly, licking your tongue and angling your head to give you access to his mouth. He fuelled your desire with short jabs of his chin, giving you the feeling of him caving in but then retreating and making you chase him. It was… Heady. 

"We need to stop, little one. We need to take our time." He exhaled heavily, his cheek against your forehead as he calmed down. "Why don't we cuddle as we watch something?" He suggested.

"No more making out?" You cried out in tiny disappointment. 

"You told me not to get ideas. First I'll learn about you. Properly. Then, when my brain gives me the green light, I guarantee you my body won't hold back. Just, give me time, ____.” He explained, controlled and at the same time empathetic.

You nodded in understanding, caressing his face and pressing a kiss to his chest. "I wanna kiss you again though."

"Don't worry, baby, we'll have the chance later. Let me calm myself down first." He replied, adjusting you in his lap, trying to separate you enough for decency. 

You were glad that at least the dampness between your thighs was matched by the severity of his hard on. 

"What do you say, I go to the bathroom, recompose myself real quick while you choose something to watch?" 

You agreed. 

Date five finished with a sweet kiss at the doorstep as he left after the film you watched together. 

However the following morning you found a lengthy paragraph in your chat with Namjoon containing a detailed description of his intentions towards you. Let's just say you were glad for the girthy, buzzing friend you keep in your bedside table and for its assistence as you read his text and crumbled, calling his name. 

[absoluteindulgence]

Paradise (BNHA POC!CUTIES COLLAB)

Happy Black History, Honeys!!! I’ve spent the last 12 hours working on this and I’m still unsure of the finished product, please if you like what read don’t be shy to comment (or if you didn’t DM me, constructive criticism. I haven’t written a story in a while so have mercy lol) Characters are Aged Up🆙 but it’s fluff? I tried my hand at Ludus but can’t say I executed it right lol. Thanks in advance to everyone that reads it! I’m gonna go pass out now, respectfully.

The time you spent together always resorted to some kind of new fun. Always smiles and laughter, learning something new about each other. You didn't spend a lot of time together during your days of being highschool kids, but after some time apart and rekindling something most may call "Puppy Love," you've been finding more reasons to get out of bed.

Kirishima was strong and kind-hearted when you knew him back at U.A., Giving off the proper sentiment that would make you believe in yourself. It's kind of embarrassing how hooked you were to each other's personality, painstakingly apparent to your other classmates wishing for you two to just date but never doing so. Resulting in the classic 'Will They, Won't They' trope annoying everyone; Only to continue like that in your young adult years. Pushing your childlike fun on each other, date after date.

You woke up early, just to get a sense of the mid-winter weather. Still wearing your pajamas, you opened the window near your bed; the brisk air immediately greeted your room with little atonement to your mildly groggy body. You shivered right away, knowing that even though the sun was high in the sky, the wind would be unforgiving until the afternoon. Promptly doing your beauty routine, you dressed warmly and threw your hair under a cute beanie Kirishima had bought you for Christmas. Eager to meet at the station with your Red-haired date. It would be the first date you would've had in weeks, and ironically enough, on Valentines' Day.

As you reached the meetup station, he was already there, fifteen minutes earlier than when you two were supposed to meet. This was typical for him, and many times you had tried to beat him to the punch, but he was always one step ahead. As you got closer, he raised his head from staring at his phone screen, reciprocating the smile plastered on your face as you hugged him.

"Hey, Little Miss Cozy, you look great!" His sharky grin made your heart pulse.

"Aw, thank you, you don't look bad yourself, Kiri" You glanced at his outfit; he looked so stylish! His PR team has really helped him with his image since he graduated, and now he looks like he belongs in a sophisticated J-pop group. "I'm so glad we're hanging out today!" 

"Yeah, me too. Too much work and not enough play are bad for the body!" He dramatically sighed as you playfully pursed your lips in agreeance, and in return, he held your hand through your winter knitted mittens, "Plus, I missed my partner in crime."

Your face heated up from the sweet confession just to retort with, "I feel the same way, Handsome."

His raspy chuckle coming right after as he casually brushed his red hair back with his fingers. Kirishima had promised to make it the best day you could ever have on the holiday. Planning something you didn't even expect; an indoor Ice Skating rink. It would be your first time engaging in the sport, and you were anxious. Unsure about your own elegance and precision to be the best on ice. But he reassured that it would be a fun experience nonetheless, and you believed it would.

"Don't worry, Cutie, if at any point you think you're gonna fall, just hold me tighter." With his graciously, flirtatious wink, you were blushing, with a demure grin.

After traveling to the venue, Kirishima greeted the clerk who would be taking your admission tickets. Right after, you two went to the counter where you get sized up for the Ice Skates. After getting them, you were slightly frantic on how to tie them, bewildered by the laces and hooks. Kirishima saw how confused you were, lightly chuckling at your frantic fingers working so hard to figure it out on your own.

"Hey, don't stress yourself out before you get on the ice, let me help.'' He squatted close to your feet just to help settle your feet into the rented skates. They were a perfect fit, and as he helped, he looked up to beam at you. "You know I feel like the Prince of your story, ready to whisk you away after knowing that the shoe fits you so perfectly."

How smooth, you thought to yourself. Physically flustered and speechless, you had no cheeky rebuttal. Which only made the buff redhead break out into laughter. So many times, did his bold flirts silence you and make your heart flutter. But it was one of your favorite traits that he had. After getting your shoes on, you held his hand the whole way to the rink, continually repeating, "Don't let me fall, okay?"

"Of course, My Princess" He nodded kindly, taking on his role of 'Prince' too seriously. Bringing you to almost trip as you tried to hide your face. "Hey, at least wait till we get on the ice."

Another carefree chuckle leaving his toned body, making you happy to enjoy this experience with him. Getting to the rink may have been a battle, but now you were finally getting onto the ice, working your legs slowly to steady under the frozen ice. Not wanting to move too fast and create an inconvenience for anyone enjoying the rink. Gradually, you took a breath, calming down, as you held Kirishima's hand tighter. He smiled so warmly the whole time you focused on getting comfortable on the ice. The patience he carried just to keep you feeling safe and secure made its way into your heart, knowing that there was no malice energy.

"Are you ready, Princess?" Finally finding your footing, you nod. "Okay, then I'll teach you the basics."

His skating directions are so thorough and straightforward that you're able to follow them and feel like you can execute each move flawlessly. He politely assists you with your stances, placing his big, callous hands onto your waist gently just to help you find the proper posture to keep you from falling. It's fun learning how to do it, but now you're eager to start, and Kirishima can tell.

"Okay, Princess, that's all I have to share. Let's have some fun!" He holds your hand firmly as you slowly glide around the skating rink, feeling your legs space out naturally to create the best gliding and position one leg in front of the other. "See, you know what you're doing!"

Your childlike smile shoots Kirishima straight in the heart as you make the first steps to skating like a pro. He knew you were a fast learner and always admired that. Your persistence to learn something new was fascinating to him. You would start off anxiously and felt as if you didn't know what you were doing. But once you had the chance to shine, you left no skill invalidated.

"Hey Kiri, you think we can go a little faster? I wanna get some more momentum and see if we can do a trick!"

"W-what, you sure you want to try that on your first time at a skating rink? Certain moves require being a professional figure skater… Which we aren’t."

"You have a point, but we should still try anyway," You smile with reassurance, "We didn't graduate from U.A. not to be durable in various conditions!"

You raise your other arm showing off the muscle you gained from being a student at the number one school. Kirishima looked a little bewildered, thinking that your ideology doesn't equate to ice skating whatsoever, but he agreed that you weren't wrong. U.A. definitely had their trials, and you were put through many of them as a first-year.

"I mean, just look at that couple; they're so graceful, and I think we can do that!"

You pointed to a couple of what looked like professional ice skaters making a move you had never seen before. Your eyes sparkled as their chemistry was unmatched by everyone else in the rink. They spun so gently and romantically that you felt like you had to try to do something just as beautiful as that. Kirishima took a couple of Ice skating lessons on the side only to gain more flexibility and agility to become a better defense hero during his agency apprenticeship. It worked well, and he learned many things that he didn't expect to use in his daily life.

Looking at the skilled ice skaters, he felt like that could be him and you, and so he looked back into your eyes, reciprocating your glittery gaze. With a pure and toothy grin, he said, "Okay, let's give it a try."

Excited by his answer, you almost jumped for joy, forgetting where you were, and almost slipped and tumbled into the Red-haired hero. You laughed off the blunder, and you both kept trying to reach the speed it would take to get into any ice move. Having the fundamentals of chemistry be explained had made you even more pumped. Learning the basics of a spin and how to get the most out of sticking your leg out and balance. Kirishima praised you every time you got further into the rotation. You felt good knowing that you were trying and learning something different, respecting the art of figure skating.

Surprised that you were doing so well, you lost focus for a second and accidentally bump into Kirishima, resulting in him falling to the ice-cold floor. Horrified that he's injured, you kneel close to him to inspect, but instead, he laughs, looking at your worried face.

"I'm okay, Princess; this isn't my first time falling on the ice."

"Are you sure? I mean, it looked like you fell kinda har-"

To avoid a freakout and reassure you, he stole a kiss from your lips, lasting more than three seconds as you didn't want it to stop, but he pulls away with a light chuckle, "This floor is cold as hell, though."

"I-I'm sorry," You slightly pout, not knowing what else to say.

"But hey, I'm here with the hottest girl, so this makes up for everything."

Your goofiest smile was starting to form as you reached out to help him up. "Okay, Mr. Flirt, you got me there."

His laugh was highly pleasing to your ears, and you laughed with him. As he stood up, he patted himself down and checked his skates, making sure everything felt the way it did before the fall. After the check, he wanted to leave the rink, it made you anxious, thinking that something else was wrong with him, but he laughed again, "I know you wanted to try a pro move today, but I actually have something else planned."

"Something else?" You tilted your head to the side, confused as to what he could be mentioning.

"Yeah, but it's a surprise, so I'm not gonna say anything until we get there." His shark-like grin came back, making you grin in return.

"Okay, but can I have a hint?" You imitated puppy dog eyes but couldn't keep your face straight, laughing at your own face.

"Hmmm, I'll think about it" He smiled. "Maybe when we're closer, but let's return these skates and go."

And with that, you returned the skates getting your cute and comfortable platform sneakers back. You had even forgotten what shoes you wore since you were in the rink skating for a long time, Feeling like you had sweat enough from the body-induced activity. You were excited to figure out where you might be going. You tried your best to make guesses as you rode the bus to get there and passed by each stop. Still not able to put the finger on where you might be going.

"Here's your hint, Princess," You turn from looking out the window to look back at him. "It's as sweet as you."

Even with such a cute but corny remark, you still didn't have a clue. But you were getting off at the next stop. No dots connected as Kirishima grabbed your hand, guiding you off the bus with him. He smiled the whole way, eager to see your expression on the date's secondary location. The walk may have lasted for five minutes until he stopped, turning to look at you, "We're here."

The building looked a little shabby but still had a colorful banner saying 'Welcome.' A little creeped out, you wondered what was being welcomed. Ghosts maybe? Not humans, maybe clowns, though. You were reluctant to step further, but you looked into Kirishima's eyes, and his expression looked pure and unaltered by the outer appearance of the building. You feigned a light smile, unsure what to expect inside the establishment but prepared for what's to come.

Intertwining your hands, your date tightened the grip, caressing your hand. As if doing his best to comfort you as you walked closer to the entrance, his toothy grin never leaving. As he opened the door for you, you entered the building, the floor looking just as bland as the outside, but you had to be admitted in to get to the specific base, and as you got to your final destination, Kirishima let you walk in first to scope out the scene.

In an instant, you're blinded by beautifully bright colors, pleasingly happy music that didn't sound creepy and candy-like decor from wall-to-wall. Shocked by what you're seeing, candy hung from the ceiling while numerous candy stations were on the floor. Your eyes became huge, looking at what could only be considered a candy paradise. Kirishima stood next to you, nodding at the beauty of the atmosphere filled with gleefulness and sweets all over.

"Well, Princess, welcome to Sugar Sanctuary."

He presented the place so nonchalantly, and yet his energy about the place said otherwise. Your jaw had dropped, not even knowing a place like this had existed. Your eyes couldn't even focus on what was in front of you; you just wanted to explore the floor and eat as much candy as possible.

"We burned so many calories skating, I think we should reward ourselves. I remembered out of the blue that you used to have a sweet tooth, and I wanted to see if that still holds true now."

You turned to hug him tightly, almost jumping into his arms. His eyes widened as you held him, " Of course that's still true! Let's leave here with a dump truck worth of sweets!"

His chuckle reverberated through his body and onto yours as you held him; without protest, he nodded. "Let's do it!"

And with that, you venture into the venue, reading fun facts about the candy, playing the video games that gave out real prizes. Kirishima had a point to prove, his goal was to win you whatever you wanted, and he did it so well, surprising you at his gamer abilities. And his claw skills were something to see too! You never thought you would have this much fun on a date, and yet, here you were having the time of your life with the man who was your highschool sweetheart.

Although your relationships would continue to confuse your friends, you always looked at the bigger picture to smile and have fun. Avoiding all the complicated politics of your connection, taken at your own pace, and not listen to others' opinions as you enjoyed Kirishima's company and vice versa.

You spent every moment tasting different sweets and fresh pastries from the floor that you almost forgot to take photos of the unique location. You spotted a photo booth, and with no hesitation, You lightly tugged your redheaded date to follow along. The booth itself was spacious when inside and looked like it had enough room to fit half a dozen people. But because there was so much space, you tried to create a wonderland of candy surrounding you, bringing you closer to your date.

Kirishima happily obliged to set up what seemed to take a while but eventually, ready to pose for the flix. Unironically, you two looked gorgeous, making quirky faces as the camera flashed, focusing in on the memory. However, the moment was just perfect enough to steal a kiss from him and to thank him for all that he’s done to help you celebrate a holiday that you usually overlook. After caressing your lips onto his, you say, “You know what, Kiri, you truly delivered. And I want you to know that I appreciate you.”

He goes in for another kiss, just to rest his forehead on top of yours, “No, thank you, I’m happy to rescue my Princess from a boring any time of the year.”

With a couple more photos taken in the booth, you leave heading to their lounge area to share a complimentary cake with a candle to grant a special wish together, hoping to have endless moments and to keep smiling together.

[lupismaris]

Ask game: Books recs pls! :D

Books!!! i admit im only just really starting to read again, mental illness brain rot meant the past few years have been a touch empty in terms of books but!!

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh - short novella about a very old forest, its caretaker, a young dandy who turns up, and a very old magic looking for some fun. very good, a short read but a new favorite

The Sea and Civilization by Lincoln Paine - a nautical history of human society and one of my newer acquisitions, very thorough while still being super accessible, if you're a nerd about the sea like i am or looking for a fun intro to nautical history, its a great choice.

Folklore and The Sea by Horace Palmer Beck - a collection of nautical and sea related tales and stories from around the world, the kind told by old sailors and merchant men and fishwives. Its bigger than the bible and i hold it close to my heart.

Six Memos for the Next Millenium by Italo Calvino - required reading in highschool and one of the few that stuck with me. a short collection of essays about the world and our place in it as we move forward, from the perspective of a very talented author.

Kitchen Confidential and A Chef's Tour by Anthony Bourdain - we all know how much i love and miss Tony, but his books really are a phenomenal read. Kitchen Confidential is focused on his time in the restaurant business, his various jobs and the people he met, and it is a phenomenal collection of stories and lessons learned. A Chef's Tour is focused on his later experiences as a travel writer and chef, and is one of my favorite "travel" books out there. His ability to connect with people and spark the curiosity and compassion in the reader is next to none.

Writers at Work around the World and Poets at Work, Being Two Collections of Interviews from The Paris Review - i dont care if it comes off as pretentious but i genuinely adore the Paris Review and the poets, authors, playwrites, and artists they showcase. They released two new stand alone volumes which are collections of interviews from the past idk 70 years or so, one volume being focused on poets and the other on writers. getting to hear fellow artists from multiple decades talk about their craft and personal histories is a gift. also in general, if you're looking to diversify your reading but dont know where to start/have a short attention span and are working to improve it, The Paris Review Magazine is actually a great place to do both. They release it four times a year and you can always check the roster for each issue on their website before you buy the hardcopy.

Gay New York by George Chauncey - focused mostly on Manhattan and Brooklyn, Chauncey details the long and incredibly rich history of the gay community in NYC. It centers mostly on gay cis men, though it touches on the trans community and the evolutions of language in terms of various identities quite a lot. Its a longer and sometimes heavy read, as the history of the gay community is not always a happy one, but it is a fantastic window into the lives of those who came before us and how the culture has changed over time (did you know there used to be debutante-esque balls to introduce baby gays to the community at large?? cause i sure didn't!!).

Giovanni's Room and pretty much everything written by James Baldwin- James Baldwin is a masterclass of a person and a master class of a writer. Giovanni's Room was my introduction to his writing but i truly think his work should be something akin to required reading. I would recommend finding a collection of his work and start there.

Homintern by Gregory Woods - I'm still working my way through this one but i do recommend it. In short its a showcase of great queer and gay artists from throughout modern history, Oscar Wilde is the first one discussed for example, and while Woods does make an effort to denounce the conspiracy theory that gays run the art world, he does a wonderful job of showcasing the home our community found in the art, and how their lives shaped various artistic and cultural movements throughout the western world. Its not sugar coated, but written with a lot of love.

The Philosophy of Jean-Paul Sartre edited by Robert Denoon Cumming - is Sartre for everyone? no. Do I love his work? yes. This collection is a great place to start if you're curious and want to start reading his work. Its not always an easy read, a lot of philosphy can be hard to work through, but I recommend it. Albert Camus and Kafka are of course also highly recommended. And i do genuinely enjoy Human all to Human and other works by Nietzsche.

i realize a lot of these are nonfiction but ive been on a kick lately, lets call it escapism through other lives lived on this mess of an earth. I'm sorry it took so long to write this up but i needed to mull it over a bit.

I'm always open for new recs as well, my library could always use a few new volumes!

[ceratonia-siliqua]

Sweeter Than Sugar (Ch 3)

Collab fic with @send-me-your-hcs

Summary: Tony is a man of refinement. Only the best, the highest quality specimens get added to his collection. Peter, a beautiful and very rare male omega, quickly becomes his favorite of all his pets. The perfect omega deserves an equally-perfect alpha. (Or: An a/b/o au where pet owner!Tony forcibly mates Peter and Bucky together for his own enjoyment.)

Warnings: Underage, noncon, a/b/o au, dark!Tony, confinement, forced pet play dynamics, forced mating/in heat cycles, minor violence, forced daddy kink, forced feminization, gang r/ape, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

ao3 link

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Bucky knows something is going down the moment he enters his kennel, Tony can tell.

He hasn’t had to use the reinforced steel stockade in years, not since Bucky was still new to him. Bucky is anxious and wary as Tony secures him tightly on his knees, his neck and wrists bound, rendering him immobile. “Don’t worry, my love,” he reassures gently. “Your omega’s been a naughty little boy, but once his punishment is over, we can all move on. You know Daddy’s very forgiving. I’ll forgive Peter too, just as soon as he asks for it.”

Bucky’s beautiful steel-blue eyes fixate on the bruise marring Tony’s cheek. He gently runs his fingers through the alpha’s long, silky hair as he pops the mouth guard gag past Bucky’s lips, keeping his sharp canines safely tucked away from their guests and his frightening, bone-chilling growls as stifled as possible.

With Bucky properly restrained, Tony heads back upstairs and enters Peter’s cell for the first time since the incident this morning. Peter looks at him long enough to see he’s come alone, then turns back to his filthy blankets, snubbing him. Tony almost smirks to himself as he walks over, head held high, and stops in front of the large round bed.

“Do you want to see your alpha, baby?” he asks. The sound of his voice shouldn’t startle Peter, but somehow it does.

Peter doesn’t look at him. His face is pressed to one of his messy pillows, but he nods, dejectedly.

“Very well,” Tony says. He snaps his fingers and points to his feet, his universal sign of come here. “The sooner you get over here, the sooner you’ll get to see him.”

The boy reminds him of a sullen, sulky child as he drags his limp body to the edge of the bed and onto the floor. He keeps his head down, a dog who knows he’s displeased his master, and waits for Tony to grab him by his leash, deceivingly meek and obedient.

“Turn around, baby. Show me that pretty little hole before it gets ruined again.”

A scarlet blush covers Peter’s face, neck and chest as he obeys, turning and pressing his forehead to the floor, ass up and trembling. His ass has finally returned to a more natural state, baby pink instead of deep red, tight and modestly damp instead of gaping open and pouring come and slick. It’s a bit of an illusion, though - when Tony presses his thumb against the puckered skin, it gives immediately, stretching smooth and straight and opening up for him in that beautiful way only omega holes can. It’s like pressing a button to switch between an asshole and a cunt; untouched, it’s a hole no different from anyone else’s, but as soon as the slightest stimulation comes along, it blooms like a flower in the sun, opens up hungrily and greedily, transforming before his very eyes.

Entranced, Tony fingers the boy’s delectable little pussy as he slips another, albeit weaker heat inducer inside of him. Peter won’t need any detailed stretching or preparation - not this time around - so he plays with the little omega’s broken-in fuckhole purely for indulgence’s sake. By the time Peter’s rim is turning dark red, puffy and starting to leak, the pill has taken effect and the poor thing is whining uncontrollably into the marble floor.

Tony’s tempted to make him crawl all the way downstairs, sobbing and shaking and leaking like a broken faucet, but he’d never risk skinning his princess’s poor sensitive knees. He unhooks Peter’s chain from the wall, gathers his small, trembling body in his arms, and carries him all the way to Bucky’s cell like the compassionate, generous owner that he is.

It’s a chorus of joy and suffering the moment they step inside. A gorgeous melody of pleading cries, muffled shouts, moans, groans, whimpers, whines. Peter flails trying to get to his alpha - Bucky does his damned best to wrench the stockade from its base inlaid in the concrete slab, but it holds firm. Peter is absolutely adorable as he reaches for Bucky with both hands, crying out, “Alpha, alpha…!” Like if he calls urgently enough, Bucky will shatter his restraints and come to him.

His little pets are so fucking cute.

But now is not the time to indulge them. A lesson needs to be learned here, first and foremost. Emotionlessly, Tony chains Peter to the opposite wall, shortening the leash so the feisty little omega can’t quite reach his alpha at the other end of the long room. While the two scramble trying to get to each other, Tony rolls in one of his breeding benches, parks and secures it in the center of the room, and hoists Peter’s flailing body onto it.

Oh, the little omega puts up quite a struggle then. Tony presses Peter’s body over the arch in the bench, his stomach flat on the plush leather, arms folded behind his back, legs spread, ass up to expose his leaking pussy. Bucky gets the best view in the house - restrained on his knees with Peter’s gorgeous fuckhole staring him in the face. If Tony rolled the bench closer and removed the gag, Bucky would be at the perfect height to eat the little pup out.

The thought intrigues him. Maybe after, he thinks.

He tests each cuff on Peter’s neck, thighs, wrists and ankles to ensure he’s secured, then gives the bench a hard shove to make sure the wheels are locked, properly holding the contraption still so it won’t slide everywhere in the middle of the action.

With everything ready, he supposes this is the perfect time to lecture his ornery little omega, circling Peter’s bound body as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“Peter,” he says firmly, earning himself a fearful, hateful glare from those big brown eyes. “I know you’re smart enough to understand the concept of corrective discipline. I’m about to teach you a very important lesson - everything you have, everything you have been given, including your bond with your new mate and all of the pleasure it’s brought you - they are all gifts from me.”

He steps closer, stares down at that beautiful, angry little face.

“You may not like it, you can hate this place all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are mine, Peter, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better off you’ll be.” He gestures to Bucky, kneeling behind the boy, head bowed in defeat. “I would like nothing more than to keep you and your mate happily tangled together all day long. But this morning, you chose to throw my kindness and generosity back in my face and behaved, simply put, like an animal. So, this is a moment I want you to remember the next time you’re feeling angry or hard-done by: I don’t have to give you any of these luxuries. I can - and will - replace them with much less favorable conditions if you misbehave. Hopefully, the harshness of this punishment will help this lesson stick in your tender little brain.”

He pets the boy’s head gently, then circles around him to address Bucky. “As for you, Bucky, my wonderful boy - perhaps take the opportunity to educate your omega the next time I’m kind enough to leave you two together. He chose to step out of line and brought this punishment down on both of you. If you don’t want it to happen again, I suggest you have a long and thorough chat with him about who’s in charge around here.” He strokes Bucky’s stubble-covered cheek. Bucky’s conflicted, despaired gaze is turned away from him, as good of a sign of submission as any.

Perfectly on time, Tony’s phone dings in his pocket then, alerting him that his honored guests have arrived.

He kisses Bucky’s forehead, pats Peter’s trembling flank, and heads for the lobby to greet their visitors.

—

He gets himself a nice chair for the show.

It’s not nearly as comfortable as his armchair upstairs, but it’s good enough. He reclines in the corner, feet propped up on Bucky’s table between the alpha’s food and water dishes, crossed at the ankle as he lounges comfortably. His guests are standing throughout the room, but each of them knows better than to stand in front of him, obstructing his view. Most stand against the glass wall, in front of Peter’s hysteric, sobbing face, as far away from Bucky’s enraged fury as they can get.

He’s chosen some of the best men he knows. Betas, like him, who lean more to the above-average side of the spectrum when it comes to things like height, weight and cock size. None of them can compare to the sheer massive size of an alpha, but that’s almost the point of this punishment.

Oh, how little Peter screams and fights when the first beta mounts him.

It must be so confusing. His little cunt, dripping with slick, begging to be filled, to be fucked and knotted - only to be given a too-small, too-thin, unsatisfactory beta cock. Some mated omegas have claimed that the semen of anyone apart from their alpha’s burns when it’s pumped inside them, which hasn’t been properly tested or proven, but Tony is tempted to believe it after watching Peter squeal and thrash when the first man creampies him.

And yet, oh, the poor little thing’s hips are moving so desperately. His heat has fully taken hold of him, now - compelling him to be bred, to seek out and attract his mate by any means necessary. With Bucky kneeling so close behind him, close enough to smell and hear, Peter’s body seems to be wonderfully confused. He rides each beta cock that’s humped inside of him like he needs their come to live, then jerks and sobs when he finally gets what his needy little body is after.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Bucky clearly doesn’t agree. Snarling like an aggressive dog, Tony doesn’t blame his guests for quailing away from the bound beast. Frothy spit drips from the alpha’s chin as he does his best to bare his teeth with the mouth guard gagging his lips open. The stockade makes loud, thundering bangs every time he tries to dislodge it from its base, desperate to tear the beta in front of him away from his omega and rip him in half like a Christmas cracker. He’s unsuccessful, of course - Tony built that stockade to withstand an alpha even larger than Thor - but it’s intimidating all the same.

After the third beta has had his turn, Peter goes limp on his bench. He whines pitifully as the fourth man mounts him, sliding inside easily, stirring the mess of come and slick inside of his fuckhole with his dick. Peter, as unwilling as he is, can’t stop himself from moaning and rolling his hips in tandem with the beta’s, trying to make the man’s cock fill him deeper, wider, fuller. Tony smiles at the desperate way Peter is bouncing his hips. It must be maddening, to be fucked over and over again by a series of eager cocks not biologically designed to satisfy you.

Slick and beta come glob onto the floor as Peter desperately rides the man standing behind him. Bucky howls through his gag like he’s being castrated, vicious and frantic to get to his mate and breed him properly. Tony grins at the desperate struggling his gorgeous alpha is still putting up. It makes him rise to his feet almost subconsciously, not sparing the breeding bench a glance as he walks around it and approaches the stockade.

Bucky knows better than to lunge for him. Still, his thrashing increases tenfold when he thinks his Daddy might be crouching behind him to undo his restraints. Tony loves how basic, how single-minded heats and ruts make his pets become, how they reduce them to their most primitive selves. Like this, Bucky can’t even fathom why Tony wouldn’t free him and allow him to defend and claim his mate. Without a doubt, all thoughts of lessons and punishments have been pushed far from the alpha’s mind. He’s a beast, like this. A pitiful, powerless beast.

He grunts and snarls when Tony cups his huge, distended balls. Rigid, swollen and heavy with fresh come, they hang dark and tight between Bucky’s legs, nearly touching the floor. Tony gently massages them, watching the alpha’s massive cock bob and leak precome from the stimulation. Poor thing. He truly doesn’t deserve to be tormented like this, but Tony can only hope he uses this pain as motivation in helping him train and tame Peter.

As five betas becomes six and then seven, Tony stays crouched behind Bucky, gently working his balls with the palms of his hands to provide some relief for his aching, anguished alpha. Peter’s pitiful cries fill the room, louder than the pleasured groans of the men filling him, louder even than Bucky’s muffled screams of rage.

That’s why Tony is able to hear it so clearly when his baby sobs, “I’m - I’m sorry, D...Daddy, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” Sobbing so hard, the words shatter like glass as they leave his damp lips. “Daddy I’m sorry, please forgive me, p-please, Daddy!” Tony stands, almost leaping to grab the beta still humping away wantonly at his princess’s backside and fling him off without a care.

“Baby,” he soothes instantly, stroking Peter’s trembling flank to try and settle his wailing sobs. “Oh, sweetheart, my little princess, hush now. You’re all right.” He leans in, kisses the omega’s quivering back, stroking his sweat-matted hair. “It’s all right now, sweet boy. Daddy forgives you.”

Impatiently, Tony snaps his fingers, dismissing the men without so much as looking at them. As the last one files out, the door automatically locking behind him, Tony undoes Peter’s cuffs but leaves him bent over the bench, hanging there limply, as he once more crouches beside Bucky. He removes the gag, opens Bucky’s restraints, and is quick to jerk back as Bucky surges upwards and descends on Peter with pure animal desperation.

And still, Tony’s wonderful boy is human enough to gather his tiny mate in his arms and carry him over to his bed, crowding him against the dull greys of his bedding as he slots himself between Peter’s spread legs and pumps his cock inside of him. Peter mewls gratefully, arms iron-tight around Bucky’s neck, his trembling legs trying to cling to Bucky’s wide waist, their chests pressed flush together as Bucky sinks his teeth into Peter’s mating bite, sinks his cock into Peter’s well-fucked cunt.

Smiling, Tony returns to the proper side of the glass, leaving the pair to their own devices - or as close as he’s willing to allow them to come to it. He watches for the better part of an hour as Bucky breeds, grooms, gentles and then breeds Peter once again, repeating the process over and over, making sure to pay special attention each time he licks up the mess leaking from his omega’s abused hole, as if the beast cannot rest until every drop of beta come has been cleaned from Peter’s body.

—

The utter lack of sleep his boys have had in the last 24 hours shows when they pass out towards their fifth round. They’d been up talking and fucking the whole night before, and neither had slept a second since their separation this morning. It was bound to happen.

Bucky has rolled onto his side, one of the only (formerly) clean blankets pulled over the two of them. Peter’s face is pressed into the barely-there space between the alpha’s bicep - of which he’s laying his head on - and one of those meaty pecs. They’re chest to chest, and by the way Peter shifts every now and again (and the leg clearly thrown across that broad waist), still firmly connected via knot. Bucky’s other arm is wrapped firmly around Peter’s waist, his nose tucked into the sticky, matted curls of his omega. Only the alpha’s feet peak out from under the blanket, Peter too small to reach that far down under a clearly alpha-sized blanket.

Given that the pair aren’t doing much, Tony decides to attend to a few things. His boys need a bath, badly, but that can wait. Instead, he goes upstairs to Peter’s kennel. Entering with a laundry hamper and gloves, he begins stripping Peter’s bed of all its baby blankets and fluffy pillows. Thankfully, Peter isn’t one to revenge pee. He’s had a few pets who had taken up the hobby. Still, it’s a sticky, come-drenched mess, and dried come isn’t his idea of a good moisturizer.

Usually, a team of professionals come through once a week and clean all the kennels, replacing the bedding, tending to the bathrooms, and grooming some of his other pets. His favorites…well, they tend to get a little more special attention from Daddy. He loves keeping his alphas’ hair long and some level of beard on them. It accentuates the masculinity of already hyper-masculine beings. Trimming and tending to the hairy alphas is a small indulgence of his. The only exception to the hair-loving rule is their balls.

Regularly, his boys receive a waxing. Steve actually had been calm enough for lasering and no longer needs them. Thor enjoys the attention enough to hold still through the tugs, and Tony always gets a nice show of Thor leaning down to clean his now-smooth pair nearly every time. Bucky is…rough at times. His balls are so large, the process takes just a bit longer and it can never be done soft. The waxer tends to always be concerned about too much loose skin if Bucky isn’t hard while getting the service. Tony had never seen Bucky’s skin ever be loose enough to worry much, but now with Peter, he’s beginning to understand it. With Peter’s body to hold all of his come for him, the alpha’s balls have started to show more wrinkles and gentle sagging. Tony’s surprised with himself for finding it appealing, after his love for those balls filled with come has bordered on obsession for a few years now.

Either way, those smooth balls on their hairy bodies is truly a lovely juxtaposition, and his omegas seem to enjoy sucking on them far more without bristly little hairs poking at their face and tongue.

With the bedding now packed away, he lugs it to the laundry shoot to be cleaned. Peter will need spares soon, but his baby is so often cold in the night, all the blankets meant to be extras have made their way onto the bed. His princess loves all things soft and plush, so to deny him any of those things when it’s just so fitting for such a delicate omega, it’s inconceivable, even for him.

The hardest clean-up job will be the pair themselves. As much as he loves seeing them both soiled and rolling in each other’s slick and come, Peter is beginning to look matted and ill-kept, unbefitting of a princess. Maybe Bucky can get away with the look, with his brutish build and gruff disposition, but he is officially mated to Peter and thus now has some upkeep to maintain.

He can’t but help smile to himself a little at the thought. He really does adore the pair. Bucky may have always been a bit of a bull in a china shop, but seeing this soft and irresistibly sweet side to a pet he already loved has pulled Bucky up to a level similar to Peter in his mind.

Wanting to be back with the pair, he wanders down to the basement, watches from behind the pane of glass as he usually does, but with the two sleeping and his hands itching to touch, he slips inside. JARVIS enabled, he goes over to Bucky, letting the tap of his shoes be softly audible so as not to startle the large creature resting on the bed. Bucky isn’t prone to attacking him, not for a long time, but he knows better than to sneak up on him. That is the unspoken agreement between them; so long as Bucky knows Tony is the one there, he won’t make a move to hurt him.

The sound has its desired effect. Bucky raises his head slowly to see who’s coming. Seeing Tony, he rests his head back against the large, spacious pillows that had been one of his birthday presents last year.

Hands wandering across Bucky’s back and up to his shoulder, he leans in close to speak softly to the alpha, not wanting to wake Peter.

“How are you feeling, love? Any pain?” Rubs a thumb along the still slightly red line across the back of Bucky’s neck from banging against his restraints.

“No, Daddy. Just…tired.” Bucky doesn’t make eye contact, but does tilt his head towards Tony, a movement meant to show submission whilst clearly paying attention.

Tony can’t resist kissing up the side of Bucky’s face, working one of those massive shoulders under his hand. “Daddy’s not mad at you, okay Buck? You’ve been such a good boy for me. Not mad at Peter either now; he just needs to settle in and you need to help him with that. Sound doable?”

Bucky nods, eyes darting towards the bite mark. Craning his neck up, Bucky carefully licks at the wound, a clear apology on behalf of his mate, despite the one he had accepted earlier from the boy himself. Tony leans into it. JARVIS would have done something if this was an aggressive move. Years have given the AI the ability to read Bucky’s intentions like a book. Plus, Bucky is transferring some of that sweetness onto Daddy, and he’s greedy for it now that he knows it exists.

He pulls away once the man finishes. He strokes Bucky’s hair, pushing it back and admiring the stunning man beneath his hands. Those steel-blue eyes never fail to drag him under, they were the first thing he fell in love with in his pet. They scream intelligence and speak to a being who feels deeply, even if it’s hidden behind layers of brutal ability and aggression.

Sliding a hand down Bucky’s arm, he touches Peter, letting Bucky see and feel where he’s going with the motion to prevent any sudden, protective moves. Thankfully, it works - Bucky only tightens his grip a little bit on Peter, but refrains from intervening, knowing that Peter is Daddy’s first, even if instinct scream out against it.

Peter’s skin is damn near buttery in just how supple it is under his fingers. He rounds the bed, putting himself where Bucky can see as he runs greedy hands over the boy. It wakes Peter up, but with the punishment still fresh in his mind, he merely curls into Bucky’s arms and gets his fill.

“Petey.” The omega flinches, even as Tony’s tone remains even and soft. “How are you feeling, princess?”

A soft sniffle nearly breaks his heart. Bucky shushes and pulls Peter tight, rocking his hips gently to provide some sort of comfort. Maybe a grounding sensation? He hasn’t had a mated pair like these two, a lot of things are assumptions for the time being.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’ve got Bucky here, and Daddy just wants to make sure you’re not hurting. We won’t do that ever again as long as you don’t go trying to make Daddy hurt again.” He rubs his back, the knobs of Peter’s spine reminding him that the boy hasn’t eaten since yesterday.

Bucky manages to shove his face next to Peter’s, licking up the tears leaking from his tiny mate’s swollen eyes. Being close up now, his pet looks terrible. The betas had been under strict rules not to hurt the defenseless boy, but the bruise on his cheek has Tony feeling terrible. It’s not a dark one, but still a clear sign that he’s raised a hand against the omega. Peter shouldn’t have lashed out, but it’s Tony’s job to be above lashing out in return. Apologizing is not an option. Peter had done wrong and been punished for it, but he still wishes he had reigned in the response. Peter’s punishment should have been more controlled, beginning and ending with the betas.

He runs a gentle, paternal hand through Peter’s curls, bringing in his other one to help gently break up the spunk and sweat-glued strands. Saliva is likely in there as well, but Peter will be getting a bath soon enough to straighten the mess out. It’s terrible to see his hair so flat and limp. It’s an endlessly endearing trait, and why he keeps Peter’s hair on the longer side when all of his female omegas have short bobs or complex plaits and braids to keep things neat.

“Baby.” Taking Peter’s hip in his hand and gently rolling the small amount of baby fat there, he leans down, just out of range of a bite, but still able to be heard in his hushed tone. “You need to tell Daddy where you’re hurting so he can fix it. Can you do that for me, Peter?”

The boy stays still for a few, fleeting heartbeats, before nodding. It takes him a few moments to compose himself enough to speak through his hiccups. “My - my insides. My hole - it burns. Th-they put something in it and it still hurts. E-even with Bucky inside m-me, D-daddy.”

Oh dear, maybe the beta come hurts more than he’d realized.

“Bucky, sweet boy, would you take Peter to the bathroom, please? I need to go grab something. Take a blanket with you, poor omega looks like he’s about to freeze.”

Bucky does as he’s told, gathering his tiny mate up into his arms and moving him to the bathroom. His cock now slips out and swings limply between his legs as he concerns himself with his aching sweetheart.

Going to the supply closet, he pulls out an enema kit. He keeps a wide assortment of tack, gear, medical and various other supplies in it. He has never regretted anything that made its way to the closet, and he’s glad he’d thought to keep such things on hand for times like this.

Moving back to Bucky’s kennel, he goes into the bathroom to find Bucky tongue deep in Peter’s hole, but the poor thing is still shaking and complaining of pain. Ignoring him for the time, Bucky lays himself lightly over Peter, who had been shakily holding onto the edge of the tub during his rimming session. It never fails to make his heart go just a little bit soft seeing Bucky like this. Who knew the beast really just needed a mate - a purpose, really - to bring out something so tender.

He shoos Bucky away, even as the alpha grumbles. Filling the enema with warm water, just a bit closer to the hotter side of things, he caps the bottle with its nozzle. Laying Peter in the tub and having him pull a leg up, he inserts the tip and squeezes the bottle. He has to be careful not to do too much, or the resulting cramps may be worse than the burning semen.

“Now just hold it for a moment, Peter. We’ll do it a few times to wash you out well, then you can have Bucky’s come later without any of the hurting, okay?”

“O-kay.” Curled up and twitching, but covered with a thick blanket from the bed, Peter holds still as the water does its thing.

Moving Peter to the toilet to release the water is easy when you have a 6’9” alpha willing to do some leg work. Peter is repeatedly moved from toilet to tub until the burning subsides and the tears have calmed down. Tony suspects that the tears may have been more from stress than anything now, on the other end of things, but Peter finally calms down enough for him to leave the topic alone.

“Alright, last thing, Peter. You need a bath.” And oh, how Tony would love to be the one to scrub that porcelain body and tame those curls, but that will have to wait for another day. He has work to do, and Peter likely will prefer his mate at the moment. “Bucky’s gonna get you cleaned up.”

He turns to the alpha, sitting quietly on the toilet and now trying to gather Peter into his lap. “I need you to clean him up and keep him clean. If you need to breed again, do it before the bath, but make sure you clean up his curls.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.” He leans down, cheek turned to Bucky, who gives him a gentle, slightly scratchy kiss.

He looks at Peter. “Are you going to be nice and give Daddy a kiss, princess?”

Peter looks away, nodding.

Tony leans forward, turning his injured cheek to Peter. The little omega gives it the softest of licks and a light kiss to the damage he’s done. Tony gives them both a kiss on the forehead as a reward.

As he leaves, he calls over his shoulder, “Bucky, let JARVIS know what you two would like to eat tonight, I’ll send whatever you want down.”

With that, he exits the basement and removes himself from the mates’ lives, for now.

[rynliadon]

you asked for asks so talk to me about ioree skywalker

THANK YOU she's one of my favorite topics of discussion!

so ioree, for those not in the know, is my (our) star wars oc that I created collaboratively with some friends in the vader's hyenas discord! borne out of post about anakin and vader actually being siblings, I went "actually what if anakin had. an infant sister." and she has since morphed into a character I am deeply attached to.

and, of course, since everything in star wars is about what makes you the most sad, her story is kinda sad. she's less than one years old when tpm happens, and she has almost as high force sensitivity as anakin does, so qui-gon manages to save them both. the council loves taking infants, so no problem, she's going to the crèche. however, because of anakin's "issues" with attachment, he and ioree are never allowed to see each other (similar to how anakin is never allowed to return to tatooine and save his mother).

ioree grows up knowing anakin is her brother, but the most she ever gets to see of him is glances in passing in the jedi temple and whatever happens to be on the news about "The Hero With No Fear." since we know from rebels anakin would make those instructional holos for the younglings, I think that ioree steals as many of those as she can, regardless of the topic, and watches them whenever she can. she gets very good at lightsabering because of anakin's virtual instruction, and because she has a lot of natural talent the way he does.

usually younglings her age get to have specific cultural lessons, and learn about their home planets from jedi masters who are also from there. however, the only other jedi from tatooine that could hypothetically teach her is anakin. so, she doesn't get the same depth in her classes, and only gets a brief overview along with some of her questions answered. this is when she really starts to be upset that she never gets to see her brother, and feels a slowburning kind of rage deep inside.

a specific scenario we came up with that happens during this time is when she gets a mouse droid as her buddy. the temple has little mouse droids moving along most of the time, but one of them had to be taken out of commission because things were falling apart. little ten year old ioree, who'd just watched a holo of anakin explaining how to fix droids using a mouse droid as an example, rescued it. though ioree is usually terrible at technology and math (she's very good at jedi english class), she manages to fix up the droid. she names it SH1-M1, after what the jedi masters had told her about her mother, and usually calls her emone for short. (they're still buddies way into the future 💖)

as she gets older, all of her peers are chosen to be padawans. she waits and waits and waits for the day she'll be chosen to be a padawan. she tries her absolute hardest, she's good at everything, she thinks she's powerful, why hasn't she been chosen? why isn't she good enough? (bird's eye view: most of the jedi masters are apprehensive of ioree because of anakin's reputation. he was notorious for being a difficult padawan, as he was always testing the boundaries to try and figure out what would be the limit, and no one wants another anakin as a padawan.)

the day that breaks the galaxy starts like any other day. ioree, now 14, wakes up early to run through her lightsaber forms. she notices that there isn't anyone around, but that's normal for this early in the morning. no cause for alarm. suddenly she sees a flash of blue light cut down a few of her friends from a distance. she runs as fast as she can, until she finds a room to hide in. a bunch of smaller jedi younglings are huddled in the corner, and, though she'd normally take control and help guide them because she's the oldest, she huddles with them. begging the Force to make the monster leave them alone.

he doesn't.

the monster appears, and it's him. The Hero With No Fear. the brother she's missed her whole life. he looks like a specter of his old self, rage and pain radiating off of him in waves. when he sees her, he freezes, his eyes a horrifying yellow. ioree is paralyzed. nothing is making sense. finally, anakin seems to make a decision, and with a blink of an eye and a blinding flash of blue, everyone but anakin and ioree is dead. "I have something I need to take care of," he says. numbly ioree realizes this is the first time she's heard him speak in person. "but once I do, I'll find you." then with a swish of his black robes, he's gone. and ioree crumples.

obi-wan and yoda find her like that, curled on the floor. they find her not because of her sobs, not because of their own thoroughness in searching. they find her because she is unconsciously unleashing her agony into the force, waves and waves and waves of pain strong enough to knock someone over. strong enough to keep the clones from getting close enough to kill her. obi-wan and yoda are strong enough to bear it, but barely. they get to her and calm her down, bring her to safety with them.

ioree is numb to the world for most of the events of revenge of the sith. yoda and obi-wan disappear for a little while. she's sitting in a room with bail organa. yoda comes back, then obi-wan comes back with a pregnant woman. ioree overhears something about anakin, and possibly that anakin is the father? did anakin have a girlfriend or a wife or something? the woman gives birth, naming them luke and leia. yoda says something about them being too powerful in the force, blah blah, the twins need to be separated. the woman (padmé, ioree hears) fights this as hard as she can, but loses the argument. luke will be sent to tatooine to live with anakin's family, padmé and leia will live with the organas in secret. they even start discussing what to do with ioree. obi-wan offers to bring her to tatooine with him, to live with her family and possibly complete her training. ioree thinks she agrees to this. she hasn't fully registered anything in over a rotation.

the phantom menace-revenge of the sith ioree lives EXTREMELY vividly in my head, I've thought so much about this period of time. after this comes tatooine ioree + rebel ioree but this answer is already so long, I'll go more into that later! tysm for the ask I love talking about ioree!!!!!

[lucifers-favorite-pen]

Unfinished Lessons

Fandom: Obey me

Genre: Angst, so much angst

Pairings: Lucifer x Blair

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: Mention of death, lots of sadness, lots of angst

I would just like to apologize in advance for any small errors in this writing. I literally could not to a thorough edit because reading it again made me so genuinely sad. Get a box of tissues. You have been warned.

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

Context: Blair was taken from the HoL about a year ago, and was presumed dead. This broke everyone’s heart, but it broke her husband, Lucifer’s, the most. He didn’t know how to exist without her. He buried himself in his work, and in bottles, and wouldn’t let anyone console him. Not even Diavolo. When he finally was starting to learn how to be a person again, she shows back up, in chains due to trying to break into HoL, and has no recollection of him. Her once beautiful, warm black hair was a stark white, and her face looked like she had been modified slightly, like someone had tweaked the sliders in the character creation section of one of Leviathan’s RPGs. Either way, she wasn’t his wife. She was a poorly made copy of her sent here to torment him, to remind him of how he broke the vow he took to protect her when he married her.

Of course they kept her there, to interrogate her about Faerie and the people she was working for. Specifically why she was sent back to the Devildom in the first place. She was confused, and refused to believe she was who they were saying she was, and was extremely hostile.

Over the course of a month, she started to put some pieces together.

-Beel crying while pointing at a picture of him walking her down the aisle on her wedding day, begging her to believe him and to remember.

-Belphie showing her a video of their game of extreme chicken, pointing to Blair sitting triumphantly on Beel’s shoulders in knee and elbow pads as they both celebrated their victory.

-Asmo showing her her wedding dress, and gushing over how much he loved the way she looked and how well he did her hair and make up.

It was all too much evidence pointing to one conclusion. She felt a gnawing inside her chest everyday, like something was begging to be noticed, but she didn’t know what. She didn’t understand what she was feeling, sadness? Anxiety? Uncertainty? She had never felt anything but devotion and determination. How had she gone 25 years feeling only those two feelings?

She decided to go see Lucifer, the man who had been avoiding her like the plague. The man who was supposedly her husband while she was human. She had questions that she somehow knew only he could answer. She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

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

It was pretty late, but she couldn’t sleep. Her brain was going a million miles a minute with everything she had learned in the past month, and she needed to speak with him. She shrugged on a cardigan and padded down to his room, hearing a soft classical strings melody from the inside. She knocked timidly twice.

Lucifer knew who it was. That was how she knocked on his door when she first came to the Devildom, and how she knocked on his door everyday after that. Old habits die hard, apparently.

He sighed, filling his wine glass, “Come in,”.

Blair poked her head in and looked at him, making sure it was ok to come in. He glanced up at her from his work, not being able to look at her more than that, and asked in monotone, “What could you possibly need from me at this hour?”.

She hesitantly steps into the room, recognizing the music as Chopin’s Piano Concerto in E minor, specifically the second movement. She didn’t know how she knew that, as she had never heard it before, but she shook it off.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she mutters as she slowly steps toward him. Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that. Blair didn’t sleep well her first couple months in the Devildom either. She had trouble adjusting to a new space, it seems that trait didn’t die with her either.

“And what do you expect me to do about that? Belphegor is the Avatar of Sloth, go bother him,” he says harshly, trying to get her to leave.

Blair stands her ground, and holds her head a little higher, “I just had some questions,”.

“About what?” he snaps.

“You know what,” she retorts, just as harsh. If this was what it was going to take to get what she needed, then that was that. She tried to be gentle, seeing as his brothers warned her that he was a wreck, but she wasn’t going to let him bully her into leaving.

Lucifer sighs, dropping his pen on the page and rubbing his hands over his face. He looked exhausted. She noted the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes, and the messiness of his hair. She noticed how his shirt was wrinkled, the tie was crooked, and noted the slight tremor in his hand as he brought the glass of wine to his lips. He gestured his hand out to her, silently telling her to ask away.

She looked around the room a bit before asking. Honestly, she didn’t think she would make it this far, and didn’t even know where to begin. Though, her eyes catch on a large framed painting hanging above his bed. It depicted him in a pressed tuxedo and a tail coat, sitting in a red velvet chair. On his knee sat a woman, with warm black hair, and icy blue eyes. She wore a magnificent black dress that hugged every curve perfectly with a train so long it couldn’t fit in the painting. They both looked at each other with a look of adoration and passion she hadn’t seen before. The way her hand brushed his cheek, and the way his hand held that hand so tenderly. The way his other hand came to hold her chin, and the slight curvature of his lips. It all was… familiar? The scene made her chest hurt in a way she didn’t understand.

“Is that us?” she asks, smiling and pointing to the painting. Lucifer turns to look at it as well, leaning his face on his chin as he stared.

“No,” he says, not looking at her. Her eyebrows furrow together, and she shakes her head. “But-”

“That is my wife and I on our wedding day. I had that portrait commissioned so I could capture her like that for the rest of my days. However, she wouldn't agree to be painted unless I also was in the portrait. I’m glad she insisted, I rather like how it turned out,” he says, a longing in his tone he was too tired to mask as he stared at the painting.

“But I thought-”

“You are not her. You are a pathetic excuse of a copy of her. Your cheekbones are too pronounced, your chin is too pointy, your ears are pointy, your nose is too small, and your hair-” he cuts himself off to sigh and take another swig of his beverage. His words bite at her heart and she feels an unfamiliar pressure building behind her eyes. What was going on with her?

“It’s like they tried to perfect perfection,” he mutters to himself, dragging his eyes away from the portrait and back to his glass. He manages to meet her gaze, cutting more daggers into her soul with his crimson eyes. “My wife is dead. You are not her, and you will never be her. You are a husk of the woman she was sent to torment me. A punishment for my failure to her as a husband by my father, I’m sure” he spits at her. He pours himself another glass and takes a gulp of the liquid, still staring at her even though looking at her makes his heart break all over again. He watches her look at her feet and start to pick at her nails, a tell tale sign she was nervous. She still had all the little mannerisms he studied while he was falling in love with her. She still tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she read. She still held pencils and pens wrong, and twirled them through her fingers while she was deep in thought. She still ate all the different types of food on her plate one at a time. This was her, but it just wasn’t. He would rather fall a thousand more times, than see her like this.

“I, um, I still had one more question,” she says quietly, barely looking up to meet his gaze. He groans loudly in response, and yells, “What?!”. She flinches at his tone, an action she doesn’t remember ever doing up until this moment. He instantly regrets it, but refuses to look like he does, or to apologize for it.

“I was wondering if you could tell me the name of a piano piece? I’ve been wracking my brain trying to remember the name, and your brothers said you were familiar with classical music. I thought I’d ask,” she says, her tone small as she tried not to anger him. He sighed and rested his chin in his hand.

“I will do my best,” he says.

She nods and mutters, “Thank you,” before turning to go sit at the piano. She begins pressing keys, and he knows by the fourth note that it’s the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He doesn’t have the energy to stop her though, he lets her play, each note feeling like a lash on his heart.

She’s playing it well, but there’s no emotion. It’s like a robot was playing it, and he knew it was because she was incapable of feeling the emotions being conveyed in the piece. That fact stung more than he thought it would.

She got about two minutes into the piece before she stopped abruptly, taking her hands off the keys and placing them in her lap. “That’s all I know of it. I’ve never been taught how to play, I don’t even know how to read music, but I know how to play this, and I don’t know what it is. Any ideas?” she says, finally looking over at him. He had his eyes closed, and his chin was cradled in his hands. She felt an ache in her chest when she saw the shine of a single tear that had rolled down his face. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at a point in front of him that wasn’t her, before rubbing his face again and standing up from his desk. He moved silently over to a file cabinet against the wall and looked through it for a minute, before sliding out a thin book. Lucifer looked at it, and sighed quietly before moving over to the piano. Blair shifted to the side to make room for him on the bench, which he sat elegantly on as he flipped through the book. When he got to the page he needed, he set the book on the stand, took a deep breath to steady himself, and began playing.

Blair could tell he was playing the rest of the piece for her. She watched intently as his fingers glided expertly over the keys, and watched his face twist into a look of what can only be described as agony held back by sheer will power. His jaw was clenched and his eyebrows were knitted together, creating a dark storm in his eyes. He swore to himself he would never listen to this piece again. Not after what it meant to him. And here he was, playing it as if it didn’t make him feel like his chest was about explode.

He finished the piece, and heaved a great sigh of relief, the look washing away from his face and relaxing back into exhaustion. Lucifer stares at his hands for a second before saying, “The piece you were playing was the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. I just played you the rest of it,”.

He pauses briefly, still not looking at her, “The reason you can play it without knowing how to read music, is due to muscle memory. I was teaching Blair this piece, though I begged her to let me teach her something less mainstream, nevertheless she insisted on learning it, and she practiced it diligently,”. A small, sad smile crawls across his lips as he says that, but it’s gone as soon as it appears.

“You can’t play the last third of the piece because,” he pauses, taking a shaky breath to steady himself as he feels the familiar knot form in his throat and heat behind his eyes. Feelings he experienced for the first time the night he proposed to her. The thought felt like a punch to the gut.

“Because I was unable to finish teaching it to her before-” he cuts himself off. He clenches his fists and jaw, shutting his eyes. He felt like his chest was going to cave in at the memories of their lessons. The image of her having finished playing what he had assigned her to work on, and looking up at him with hopeful eyes seared its way into his memories. Another image of the cute, frustrated little quirk in her brow when her fingers just wouldn’t move the way she wanted them to stabbed like a dagger in his heart.

A quick clear of this throat and another deep breath brought him back to some stable ground. He looked over at Blair, to see her eyes already on him. They were wet, and brimming with tears. Finding out what she knows now solidified that the stories she had been told, the horror of what happened to her was all true. Here sat in front of her was her husband, yet she knew nothing of the love and adoration gifted to the woman in the painting. She felt the hot tears spill down her face at the gaping hole that was just ripped through her chest.

She felt robbed.

She felt robbed of the opportunity to be a wife, to be his wife. She felt robbed of the opportunity of love and to be loved as much as the people in the painting loved each other. She felt robbed of the possibility of building a family with him. She felt robbed of the memories, and the feelings, of everything. They took everything from her. She envied the woman in the portrait to the point of anger, and to know it was once her, and to know he will never look at her like that, only made her angry.

Lucifer, as if on instinct alone, caught one of the tears falling down her face with his finger, and tucked her hair behind her painfully unfamiliar pointed ear. He cupped her face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away the wetness gathering under her eyes as he looked into them for the first time since the last time he saw them.

They were the same.

The same eyes he looked into when he told her he loved her for the first time. The same pools of sky blue he could look into and feel at peace whenever he was stressed. The same eyes he stared into when they stood at an altar while he promised no harm would ever become of her.

The same eyes that held sheer terror as she screamed out for him while he was frozen in place by unfamiliar magic; helpless as he watched them carrying her kicking and screaming far away from him, never to see her again.

He was unable to hold back the tears streaming down his face as he stared into his wife’s perfect, baby blue orbs.

“At least, they kept your eyes, darling” he whispered.

As if also on instinct, she brought her hands to meet his and leaned closer up to his face, like she had done many times before in a past life. He also leaned closer, wanting to feel her lips on his, just one last time, but was unable to shake the gut wrenching feeling of someone else’s hands over his, and how her face no longer fit perfectly in his cupped hands.

“No,” he whispered painfully against her lips. He rips himself away from her and strides over to brace himself against a wall. She is left breathless and empty at his sudden absence, and looks over to him. She opens her mouth to apologize.

“Please leave,” is all he says with his back turned to her. She’s frozen, unable to move as a whirlwind of emotions takes over her ability to move. Everything in her body screamed at her to hold him, to tell him everything was going to be ok. Her heart begged her to cling to the body of this stranger who wanted nothing to do with her like it was the mast of a sinking ship.

“Please, Blair” he says, his voice cracking as he says her name to her for the first time since she’s been there. This was enough to bring her out of it. She stands up and walks quickly towards the door. As she opens it, she looks back at him one last time, able to see the side of his face now. His jaw is set, his mouth is set in a straight line, but rivers of tears fall from his eyes and on to the floor beneath him. She turns, and exists through the door, shutting it softly behind her.

----------

Bonus Text Thread!

Blair: I want to fix this. I’m going to talk to Solomon and Satan tomorrow and gather all of the resources regarding Fae magic the Devildom has. If that isn’t enough, we’ll search the other realms as well. But I can’t do this without you, I need your help.

Blair: Please Lucifer, help me take back what they stole from me. From you. From us. Please.

Lucifer: What do you think I’ve been doing for the passed two years? We’ve exhausted all of our resources and then some trying to get you back. Even after you died, Barbatos and I tried for months after I felt our pact snap to try to get into Faerie to bring your body home. There is no hope for us, Blair. I’m sorry, go to sleep.

Blair: There has to be a way! The magic that was used to create me was said to be impossible, but here I am! None of you are familiar with Fae magic, I am. I haven’t had a chance to look over any materials, or try any spells on myself! Look, you can sit there and drink yourself into a stupor, mourning your dead wife for the rest of eternity if you really want to. I am going to do whatever it takes to get my fucking life back, and I’ll do it with or without you. So you can either help me move the process along, or you can stand idly by and suffer some more. It’s your choice.  

Lucifer: ...There might be something. It’s a long shot, but it’s something. Meet me in the royal library tomorrow at 5:00. Bring Satan, and Solomon.

Lucifer: Thank you, Blair.

Masterpost

[death-is-a-new-beginning]

if you still write for cisco, i’d like ro request a smut (if you do them, its okay if not)! he and the reader are together but its a secret. she’s been bratty and teasing him all day. cisco tries to keep his cool but he’s obviously breaking, so she snaps hia final straw by flirting with barry (before iris & him are together). something inside him snaps and he drags her to his lab and fucks her senseless and overstimulates her. thank you in advance!!

A/N: Ooh I would love to do this for you! This is my first time writing smut but I'm going to do my best. Sorry it took so long! I wanted to make sure I got this right. I hope you like it! Also requests are open, feel free to request some more fics! 

Word Count: 2699

__________________________________________________________________

All damn day. All damn day y/n had been teasing Cisco. He was going absolutely mad because all he wanted to do was pull her onto his lap and kiss her senseless and do so many things just to hear her scream Papi, the way she did when she finally released her control. God just thinking about it made him want her that much more. But he couldn't do anything because they were keeping their relationship on the down low.

She was wearing normal clothes that normally would not call attention to her but for some reason it looked so good on her. It had been cold outside so she had worn a black hoodie with the S.T.A.R Labs logo on it and some dark jeans with red converse, totally normal clothes. But something about those jeans made her butt look a type of way that he just wanted to smack. At some point during the day in between missions the temperature had gotten warm and y/n took off her hoodie to reveal one of Cisco's new t-shirts he'd gotten recently with a mathematical equation written on it. It was like she was trying to get them outted. She looked at him smirking, knowing full well what wearing his clothes did to him. She then circled him like a temptress and reached over the control table for a her pen and came dangerously close to his face, he could feel her breath fanning him, her lips inches from him. It was like a mental battle they were fighting to see who would give in first. He was oh so close and willing to give in if it meant having her close to him.

After a few seconds of making intense eye contact, she smiled sweetly and said "Sorry Pap-Cisco I can't seem to reach my pen, do you mind passing it to me?"

He quickly passed it to her, swallowing thickly suddenly so thirsty, with a thirst that no amount of water could quench but time alone with her. He stood up abruptly and said, "No problem at all," and quickly exited the room, he need to get out of there. Barry would be back from the police department soon and he didn't want them to catch them doing something deliciously indecent. Not to mention Caitlin was working with them as well so it would just be problematic all the way around.

The rest of the day seemed to pass by agonizingly. With "accidental" brushes of skin in passing or flirty glances and there may have been something with a lollipop and a fake innocent laugh, he was at his wits end and about ready to burst, not caring about exposing their relationship. Later that day, they were working on some tech for Barry's suit when Cisco made a comment about her not programming something correctly and she just flipped him off.

"Like you never make a mistake? Geez, I'm already fixing it. Get off my back cowboy." The sexual frustration was translating over into just straight frustration with each other.

"Rarely do I make a mistake that would end in our friend getting killed," he fired back at her, immediately regretting it but he couldn't take it back.

"Fine, Mr. Perfect finish this yourself. I need a break anyways," she huffed and dropped the tools she was using and was already out of the room before he could call her back.

When Barry walked into the metahuman jail section, he noticed y/n sitting down on the floor reading a book about Quantum Physics, trying to come up with new ways to help Barry's suit phase with him more smoothly.

"It looks like you're doing some light reading," he joked, sitting next to her.

She laughed, "Yep, I needed a distraction before actually punching someone in the face. Maybe you know a guy on which I could use as a punching bag?"

Barry's eyebrow raised inquisitively, "Who do you want to punch in the face? Who hurt you?" He began laughing and bumped her shoulder with his.

"That is a can of worms I'm not sure we want to open muchacho," she joked with a bright smile, already feeling better, she hated arguing with Cisco, especially when it came to keeping Barry safe or when he felt like she wasn't doing a good enough job.

"How about you give me a list of names and I'll be back in like two minutes with the names crossed off with thorough lessons learned?"

"You think you could get it done in two minutes? Its quite a long list. I think it would take five minutes at least."

"Dang how long are we talking?" He asked.

"You know that episode of SpongeBob where the list just keeps going like out of his house or what not? Yeah about that long," she chuckled.

Barry cracked his knuckles and stood up, "Okay, no time like the present, give me the names and I'll beat their ass," she stood up while laughing then said, "Easy there Sonic, you need to fuel up and check in with Caitlin for your normal check up."

About thirty minutes later when she hadn't returned, Cisco went to go find her, he was worried he might have took it too far. He passed by the metahuman holding cells and heard her laughter mixing with Barry's. They were making their way to the entrance, he heard Barry ask her if there was anything he could do to help her and she said a hug would work. He watched them hug, her arms were around his neck which made her shirt rise up a little so Barry's hands were on her bare skin. After a few seconds they pulled away, with a sigh she sent him on his way to Caitlin and sighed before turning to go back to where Cisco was only to come face to face with a pissed off Cisco.

Y/n stopped in her tracks, a pissed off Cisco was probably one of the hottest thing to witness, but his anger was directed towards her, she could detect that much.

"What the hell Y/n? I know we want to keep our relationship on the DL but flirting with Barry? What the actual hell?" The realization that Cisco was jealous of Barry, for no reason, made her laugh.

"What is so funny?" Cisco asked almost yelling. He couldn't take it anymore, he felt so possessive and seeing them hug was the straw that broke this camels back. He would show her who she belonged to, as much as he belonged to her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a secret room he had found the first year he started working at the lab. He sometimes slept there when he was working late. It had a mattress he'd secretly brought a few years ago.

He locked the door and like a predator hunting his prey, he pounced. He pushed her up against the wall, he had placed his hand behind her head to protect it, just like guys do in anime. His eyes darkened when he saw how turned on she was. He almost growled, "You're mine. Only mine, and I'm yours," he pressed his lips to hers passionately and it was on. A fight for dominance began but one he was winning. He smiled in the kiss and pulled away. Her eyes slowly opened, she was panting hard. His hands had moved down from her head to her side sliding his hand under his shirt she was wearing until he reached her breasts and he squeezed her the way she liked.

She moaned softly with this action her eyes growing dark and his hand were on the move again, unbottoning her jeans and reaching for the one place she ached for. When he reached that place his hands slowly circled her mound so slow that it was almost agonizing.

"All day you've been taunting me, being cute, wearing my shirt, being a brat. You even flirted with Barry! Well baby girl, you messed with the bull, prepare to get the horns." His voice deepened and the Cisco that only she gets to see came forward. He removed his hand, the source of her pleasure, which made her whine in desperation. 

"Take off everything. Now." He demanded.

"Yes S-sir." She stuttered, at times she was unprepared for the shift in dominance with Cisco. Most of the time he was laid back and nerdy as all get out, but here and right now Papi Cisco was present and demanded respect. This made her want him all that much more. She removed her articles of clothing one by one. His eyes raked over her as he licked his lips. 

“Now get on all fours on the mattress. You know what to do, you’ve been a bad girl and it’s time to get punished,” She complied, her bum was up slightly. She stared ahead at the metal wall. He took off his shirt, and approached her his hands squeezing her ass, massaging it. 

“You’ve been bad baby girl, being so beautiful and flirty with me all day when we are trying to keep our relationship under wraps. You’ve been pushing my buttons. You’re going to count to three okay?” He asked kindly. 

“Okay,” She said. 

“Okay what?” He asked.

“Okay sir,” She replied with a smile on her face. 

“Good girl, let’s begin,” He spanked her, it was a solid spank that didn’t hurt but made heat pool down her body. “One,” she moaned. The second and third followed suit with more pressure in each spank. After he was done, he massaged her butt, there was a bit of redness but he would make sure she wasn’t in any discomfort. He peppered kisses on her ass which made her moan, the soft touches were driving her crazy. He took those kisses lower until he reached her lips, licking down her strip, moaning at how wet she was for him. 

“Please, Cisco,” she mewled, all she wanted was for him to finish what he started over and over again. 

“No Mamas, you teased me, now its my turn. On your back baby girl. You’re not allowed to touch yourself,” she turned over, laying on some firm pillows that gave her the support she’d definitely need soon. When she looked at him, he was putting his hair up with a hair tie and there was a few strands that would always fall loose no matter how hard she tried. He looked beautiful, she enjoyed seeing all the different sides of him, they often face so much danger which is why they decided they wouldn't tell anyone until they were sure it would last. 

He kneeled onto the mattress and made his way to her, like a predator hunting for his prey and he looked hungry. Like he’d eat her whole. She almost moaned at the thought. When he reached her, he  was hovering above her, mere inches from her lips. 

“May I kiss you?” He asked, even when he was in dominant mode, he always asked her for consent, always made sure she was okay. The respect alone made her love him so much more. She wanted him to do more that kiss her, she wanted him to fuck her so good and then make love to her, the order in which that happened did not matter. 

“Yes, you can kiss me. I hope you plan on fucking me too though,” with that he smiled and smashed his lips to hers, sucking on her bottom lip a little before slipping his tongue in to her mouth. His hands wandered to her breasts, squeezing her nipples roughly which made her moan into his mouth and arch her back. His hand continued his journey down her body and between her legs, she was so sensitive and swollen there. He rubbed in circles then in 8 rotation movements. And with two fingers he entered her, he started pumping the digits in and out of her. She began moaning, her hips trying to meet his fingers with each thrust. 

After a few moments of fingering her, on the brink of her orgasm, he stopped. He slid his fingers out and she clenched around the absence of his fingers. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them, tasting her while making direct eye contact. He smirked, he planned on edging her for while before letting her finish. 

“Please Cisco, I was so close,” she pleaded. Aching to finish the job herself. 

“No baby girl you’re not allowed to cum until I say so, understand?”

“Yes, sir, “ she conceded. He placed one more kiss on her lips before moving down her body, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way between her legs. Then he started sucking and licking and tonguing her entrance, He could feel her start to clench around him and so he stopped. Again. He robbed her from completion again, he kissed her thighs as he sat up on his knees. He unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. He stood up pulling the last remaining clothing off. He was standing there in all his glory. He pulled a condom from his wallet and gave himself a few pumps until he was hard enough to put the condom off. 

When he was ready he climbed back to her rubbing himself at her entrance, to which she moaned. He kissed her and pushed his way inside of her, they both moaned, he stretched her so well, he waited a bit to let her adjust and then began to move slowly, in and out of her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist trying to meet each thrust. He kissed her harder as he started to speed up, hitting the spot that made her go wild. 

He then slowed and came to a stop as she came close once again and came to a halt. She huffed in frustration, but then Cisco moved to his knees whilst still inside her, she was clenching and unclenching around him which almost made his control waver. He lifter her legs to be on either side of his neck and he put a pillow under her bum so she was comfortable. He held her legs together and started to thrust into her deeper and harder than before, she was screaming in pleasure, which made Cisco glad he had sound proofed the room. 

¨Papi, please let me cum. I´ll be a good girl. Daddy please,¨ she recited like a prayer, she wasn´t sure she could prolong her orgasm if she tried. He was fucking her so good. 

¨Cum now baby girl,¨ he demanded and she experienced the strongest orgasm she´d ever had. The man was Gandalf at making her cum. How he learned all of these techniques was beyond her. As she rode the high down, he continued to thrust until he came not too long after she had finished. He pulled out, he cum slipping out of her lips. He slowly lowered her legs down and went down on her, lapping up her juices, cleaning her, and sucking her sensitive clit, she didn´t think it was possible, but she ended up coming again for the second time. 

He cuddled her and she came down another high, panting. “I’m glad I was being a bad girl today.” She said with a laugh.

-A few days later-

Y/n was hanging with the gang in the main control area, laughing and joking around with Barry and Caitlin. Cisco walks into the room, strolls over to her, mumbling something like “Fuck it” and spins her to him and kisses her in front of everyone, she kisses him back on instinct. After a moment, he pulls away and looks around the room and says, “She’s mine.” then he struts out  back to his lab. 

“I knew it! Barry you owe me $100.” Caitlin said excitedly while clapping. 

Y/N just sits there in shock of what happened. “Wait you guys had a bet going?” She exclaimed.

-Fin-

[valaks]

Deleted Fic: Signals

“D’Arc said you made quick progress on the hand signals”

Alex was still getting used to hearing praise. It’d been longer than he was willing to admit since he had received anything more substantive than an “I’m glad you’re home and safe”. That it was coming from a man who Alex had learned the hard way was objectively very, very dangerous…it didn’t speak well of the direction his life had been going.

Not that coming to SCORPIA was really a bright and shining moment for that either but at least here he felt a little more...settled than at home. Everything here was easy in a way that Brooklands hadn’t been in quite sometime. He was still behind in some subjects he hadn’t made it to chemistry which made some of Gordon’s lessons difficult at best but in others he exceeded. That his classmates stayed closed lipped at the very worst only made things that much easier to slide in and feel comfortable.

“Yeah, some of them overlap from what MI6 taught.” He tried to brush it off but Nile stopped dead in his tracks fixing him with an unreadable stare, on anyone else at Malogosto it would be natural but on Nile who kept such a good temper it was disconcerting.

“Don’t lie, Alex, our hand signals aren’t anything remotely like 6s.”

“How do you know?” He was genuinely curious but also hoping to switch subjects because Nile was nice but also terrifying and maybe lying to him hadn’t been his best decision

“You’ll study them here, well, the big ones - CIA, MI6, SVR, and the rest who try to play world police. Now why don’t you tell me the real reason you know them?”

He really shouldn’t be surprised, Nile wasn’t a school teacher he could fool with questions and misdirection. He was informative and helpful but there was a limit and he got the feeling he was reaching it. “My uncle taught them to me when I was young.” And that had been as much of a shock to Alex as it apparently was to Nile who took a step back, something unreadable flashing through his eyes. Gone as soon as he saw it.

“Odd choice for an MI6 agent...” he murmured

“Maybe he didn’t want other people to see me using them, might’ve thought it would make people see me as a target” People like you went unsaid.

Nile nodded thoughtfully, “It’s possible he learned them from Hunter, your father.”

“You don’t think that’s why do you?”

“No,” there was a note of approval in his voice and Alex did his best to ruthlessly repress his own pride at having garnered it. Nile’s next words did a great job of smothering it “I think you were always meant to come to SCORPIA, Alex, ideally in 4 years when MI6 had more of a chance to groom you. Thankfully you found us on your own.”

There was just the smallest thread of doubt there and Alex had the sudden urge to tell him that he had, that he was tired of being used by MI6 that he belonged here in a way he hadn’t belonged anywhere since Ian’s death. Nile seemed to find what he was looking for and nodded.

“Do other people feel that way too?” It wasn’t subtle but subtleties were lost on Nile who seemed to be able to read him like a book.

“Of course,” it wasn’t comforting “Those doubts hang over the head of every operative we have that switches sides. Your youth helps, of course.”

“And it helps to have a second in command watching my steps.”

Nile flashed him a smile “Yes but there is more to it than that. If they wanted to prove your loyalty there are easier ways - interrogation or any seasoned operative but they chose me, why do you think that is?”

Nile liked these little thought exercises. Pressing Alex to understand his position or lessons was a favorite last time. Alex now saw them for what they were - a test. Unfortunately, one he would fail.

“Honestly, I don’t know” he didn’t, not really not when they had perfectly good instructors, not when Nile’s time was infinitely more valuable in the field. It didn’t quite add up but then this entire experience had felt a little surreal.

“Mrs. Rothman is interested in you as are the rest of the board. You have a family history that speaks of talent but more importantly you have a far more recent history that shows the skill and determination to use it. You have foiled two of our operations, ones that were planned and executed by Cossack who had a...reputation for being thorough and never failing.”

“Before me.”

“Before you” Nile agreed “Some on the Board attribute your success to his weakness. I don’t believe that is true and neither does Mrs. Rothman. She has had the other two youngest Malogosto graduates under her command to fantastic results, she feels you will be similarly successful.”

“I know you are the youngest.” Are because Alex hadn’t graduated yet and mercifully had quite a bit of time before he could really consider what that would entail. “But who was the other?”

“Cossack, he was 19 when he trained with your father.”

“Oh”

“Yes, oh” Nile looked amused, but there was something more to it than that. It wasn’t the first time he had caught it either. If Nile was assigned to him then maybe….

“Did he mentor you?”

Nile gave him a long look and then nodded “Not while I was at Malogosto but once I left and started making a name for myself.”

“Can you tell me about him?” It came out more desperate than he intended. Yassen represented a lot of unanswered questions in his life. Alex wouldn’t be here without him having killed Ian but he also wouldn’t be alive at all for that matter. If Nile couldn’t tell him about his father, maybe hearing about Yassen would fill in some of those blanks.

“Another time, maybe.” A casual look down the corridor was enough to signal that it wasn’t a ‘no’, just an inopportune time and place. “I’ll talk to D’Arc about transitioning you into the other hand signals tomorrow. After dinner we’ll be headed back to the range 72% is good but they’ll be introducing different targets soon. I want you to have exposure to them before your progress is scored and reported tomorrow.”

Nile didn’t have to explain all that. He could have ordered Alex anywhere and he would have gone. Maybe he knew that explaining things was the easiest way to get Alex’s compliance, or maybe he needed him to be aware of the stakes, Alex liked to think that it was because despite his background Nile did genuinely want to see him succeed. He held onto that because he hadn’t had anyone who wanted that and was willing to help him succeed in a long time. And maybe it was fitting that the line of mentorship would keep going.

[swsh-sorts]

Angels Among Others - Part Two

GORDIE:

Gordie was reminded of himself when he had first seen Bede. This prideful and arrogant boy, with a determined attitude— he connected a lot, and yet within him he also saw growth. And he wanted to have Bede find the way to... well, ‘grow up’. But then he saw him crying, and he remembered that everyone has their own demons to face. And if that demon is the one laughing down at Bede’s state, then Gordie will help him fight.

At first, Gordie would consider getting physical. But that’s wouldn’t make for a good role model for children soooo... he opted to wordlessly call Bede aside and hold him close, despite Bede’s clear reluctance, and crack jokes with him.

“Lighten up buddy! That person’s absolute bonkers if they think they have even a sliver of your awesomeness.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Gordie’s intervention, he’d have no problem to tell them to square up, or fight him in a stadium of hundreds and lose. See if they like being put in the centre of stress and backlash.

MELONY:

Melony sees all of the battling trainers as her children, and would aim to teach them in the art of battle. A spunky boy like Bede caught her interest, as he was unique, if a bit hard-headed. But a boy is a boy, and when that boy starts spilling tears, Melony is ready to be by his side.

Despite her soft appearance, she can be tough and as cold as ice, chastising their actions on a young child. She would try to spoil Bede in getting him a meal or take him shopping, but Bede would outright, but [trying to] politely refusing.

“Honey, they have no right to speak to you in such a way! Don’t cry dearie, I’m here.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Melony’s intervention, they get a stern lecture on treating other equally and fairly. If she got any sort of protest, she would raise her voice for more people to hear, much to Bede’s amusement.

PIERS:

Despite the bratty attitude of Bede, Piers took a small liking to him, being unique in his own very strange way. And after he himself being repressed and rejected for so long because of how he is began to be seen in Bede, it was an immediate rise of anger within Piers when he saw the boy be driven to tears.

Caring not for his image, Piers would speak harshly to whomever made Bede cry, cutting with hurtful words and uncaring sentences that Bede would flinch in the reserved man’s ferocity. Piers would pull Bede aside for a drink or a talk with Marnie to ease the tension.

“No one can hold you back for who you are. They don’t control you, and they never will.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Piers’ intervention, Piers wouldn’t hesitate to release him Obstagoon. “Sic em’ boy! Go go gO—“

RAIHAN:

Raihan saw true potential within everyone, and his own stuborness and wit could be reflected within Bede, had people looked hard enough. And as a man of fairness, he deemed it essential that the one who made this child cry should be punished.

Raihan is harsh in his ways when he thinks someone is deserving, and despite Bede’s previous acts, he was only a kid under bad influence. It was no reason to cause tears to come from Bede, and Raihan would make sure the man/woman learned their lesson.

“Have you no shame? You stand before me with respect for my standing— but you must stand always with respect for mankind and pokemon alike, including kids.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Raihan’s intervention, they’d receive thorough reckoning and stern warnings, before possibly getting kicked out of the tournament.

LEON:

Leon sees a chance with each new face he comes across to become the champion. And while he could not grant that same chance with Bede, it still filled him with pride to see that Bede had become an official gym member. And it also filled him with sadness to see him so disrespected for it.

As soon as Bede started choking up tears and his breathing hitching, Leon swooped in the escort Bede away, making sure Bede’s comfortable before returning to the one who sought to bring Bede to the ground.

“You have no say who is worthy of the title of Gym Leader. Bede was chosen, and you will respect him as you did for all of us.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Leon’s intervention, they’d receive a stern lecture, and a permanent ban from future tournaments for the disruption of civilised peace. — “It’s not a rule? Well it is now.”