#like it's hard to explain. it's just sort of dark and serious.

[non-un-topo]

Getting an extreme case of writer's block the second I graduate and actually have time to write has to be some kind of cosmic punishment for something idk

[stealingyourbones]

Tucker was his way to meet up with his friends at Nasty Burger at sundown when a massive BOOM! was heard above him. Expecting a ghost he whips around with a fenton lipstick at the ready…

That isn’t a Natural Portal.

Whatever it was, it was some sort of portal, The blinding white lined wormhole was undulating 10ft above the ground. Tucker couldn’t even get a good look at it as its event horizon was like staring at the sun.

Tucker shielded his eyes but kept his weapon pointed at the wormhole looking thing.

Then a part of the event horizon dimmed as it was blocked by a human shaped figure. It took mere moments for Tuckers’ awe to transform from “holy shit someones coming through” to “OH SHIT!” as the figure promptly fell 10 feet from the entrance of the portal to the cold hard cement sidewalk like a bag of rocks.

Tucker creeped toward the figure in awe, barely even noticing the wormhole close above him. The man unconscious at his feet was an absolute tank of a man. Maybe not just metaphorically a tank either, metal cybernetic parts covering so much of his body were a gleaming silver chrome, the light reflecting off of the parts made his dark skin seem to glow.

Tucker’s fascination and awe stuttered when he noticed the injuries. One of the man’s mechanical legs looked like it was put through a woodchipper. The torn metal and ripped wires reminiscent of old train steam boiler explosions, the twisting and melded wires near hypnotic to look at. His torso and head wasn’t doing good either. A good chunk of the cyborg’s paneling was either dented or torn off and half of his cybernetic face had a bite taken out of it. Some holes deep into the intricate cybernetics below leaked a dark oil. Not only was that concerning, ever since his fall he hadn’t opened his eyes or moved.

Tucker shakily put two fingers to the neck of the man. A wet shaky laugh escaped his throat when he felt the cyborg’s pulse. With hands equally as shaky, he grabbed his iDalv 3 from his pocket and called Danny.

A tired yet happy voice was heard over the line, the background ambience of beeping fryer alarms and background chatter feeling jarring to the sounds of oil dripping from the cyborgs injuries and the quietness of the night.

“Hey Tuck, What’s up?”

“I- There’s a wounded cyborg man-”

Danny’s tone switched from jovial to serious “A what now?”

“I don’t think I can explain it over the phone. I’ll send you my location. This is all together ooky man.”

“On it.”

The tri tonal beep of the call ending was momentary before the soft dripping and crickets was all Tucker could hear. The crumpled man showed no signs of waking.

Tucker can’t help with the human part, but he sure as hell can fix the mechanical parts.

All he hopes is that the mystery cyborg man can explain what’s going on when he wakes.

[bisnes-socks]

i added my thoughts to the takavoltti lyrical analysis here but today i want to talk about why i think takavoltti is one of käärijä's most finnish songs ever.

this got a bit long, so just so you know what to expect going in: what i mean by most finnish is that there are references and tone of voice that are very specific to finland, there is complex use of the finnish language AND there are melodic/musical choices in the song that sound very finnish to me.

okay, here goes.

the dialogue that opens the song is already a sort of key moment to this finnishness of it all. when he says "emmä tiedä, kolisee jos kolisee, mut mun on pakko sit koittaa vetää tosi matalalla" he is doing a bit of a voice but more than that, he is talking in a way that is not quite his. his inflection, the rhythm, those are not natural to him or his dialect. you can hear it particularly when he says "koittaa vetää tosi matalalla". i don't know if it's at all easy to hear if you're not finnish, but it's not.. a serious voice or tone. the other two voices, one of them is modified to be high and the other talks like a sports announcer. the whole scene is quite comedic and it's a very specific genre of comedy that is very finnish indeed. it's also the type of thing he has been doing since always. (EDIT: OKEI MORE CONTEXT IN A REBLOG HERE)

funnily enough, you guys know köpi kallio now, the therapist in skit and autiomaa video? yeah köpi and his long time partner in crime viki are good examples of this type of humour i would say. they have their own podcast/show called viki ja köpi show but before that they were radio hosts and have been working together for ten years. the character voices and the whole vibe of the scene in the beginning of the song is very viki ja köpi to me, very ylex type comedy (yes ylex the radio station who did the ruisrock interview who still isn't back from the war).

and the small comedy bits stay in there through out the song, and they continue to have the same delivery instantly recognisable as comedic.

and that isn't to say the subject matter can't be serious. i think, again, this is something that feels inherently finnish to me. other finnish people feel free to chime in because this is hard to explain, but our culture is one where coping through making light of things is quite normal. and our sense of humour tends to be on the darker side, at least if you compare it to the american style of comedy that has taken over globally. so to make a song about there being too many demands on you and how you have a problem with setting boundaries and agreeing to insane shit, but to do it by interjecting the song with jokes just idk.. it sits in our culture lmao.

i honestly don't know how to explain this better, but quite dark comedic elements like this (after all he gets properly fucked up in the stunts it seems) in a song with a serious subject matter is something we've been doing for decades in this country (juice leskinen, for example) and it is something so loved by finnish people. we love a song that is just fucked up on multiple levels. käärijä is just adding his own style to this cultural history.

okay, onto the language.

the verse opens with "tekevälle sattuu" which is a finnish proverb.

quick finnish lesson: the word sattua in finnish means both to hurt and to happen. the word tehdä means to do but tehdä kipeää means hurting. like.. now that i think about it tämä tekee kipeää = this is doing (me a) hurt is valid and correct finnish lmao.

tekevälle sattuu, the proverb, actually means "things happen to those who do" but he is playing with the different meanings here, because he goes on to say "ain sattuu ku tekee" which can both mean "things always happen when you do" or it can mean "it always hurts when you do". then he goes on to say "ku tekee, ku kipee, ni kipeetä tekee" which is once again playing with words, because kipee here means both pain but also being sick. "ku tekee, ku kipee" would translate as "when you do as if you're sick" and "kipeetä tekee" means that it hurts.

so to recap (i'm not trying to provide a smooth translation, but highlight his wordplay:

tekevälle sattuu = things/pain happen to those who do [things]

ain sattuu ku tekee = shit happens/you get hurt when you do [things]

ku tekee, ku kipee, ni kipeetä tekee = when you do [things] like you're sick [in the head], you get hurt

so this is all to say two things: he's using the finnish language in a very clever way that really only becomes clear if you know the language and all of these idioms and proverbs. and also that he is very good at what he does. it has taken me four paragraphs to explain 13 words.

and he doesn't even end there. "oon yllytyshullu, ain hulluksi yllyn" is more play on words. jesus, jere. okay guys, stay with me.

yllytyshullu i explained in my previous analysis, but recap: yllytys means incitement and hullu means crazy. yllytyshullu is someone who does crazy shit when prompted.

"ain hulluksi yllyn" here he is using the word yltyä which is the same root as yllytys, but yltyä means usually more like.. to intensify. (for example: sade yltyy = the rain is getting heavier, or tuuli yltyy = the wind is picking up)

so to say hulluksi yllyn, he's saying like.. i let myself be incited and/or i always take it to the max, to the point of crazy.

and then he uses very clever rhyming words: "ja tää hullunmylly on kylmempi kylpy". hullu means crazy, mylly means mill, hullunmylly is basically a hullabaloo.

as you can tell, all of this is like bordering on impossible to translate accurately into a smooth translation. and that's just the first verse, but i'd be here all night if i explained the whole entire song 😭

and this to me is a very clear sign that no matter what sort of an audience he has internationally, he's not compromising on his language. and i find that admirable and, as a finnish person, very comforting too. this song is sort of reassuring, like he is reinserting himself very firmly into finnish culture, with the language and the comedy that do not translate very well. 

and if you look at the pre-chorus and chorus, the specific references keep coming: calling him kärtsä (finnish people have a lot of nicknames for him), "hyppää kybäst pommi" the slang use of kybä to mean ten meters, he mentions duudsonit (the dudesons) and he mentions jorvi hospital. all of these feel like he is signalling to a very finnish audience. (also "oon syypää sun hymyyn" could count as a cheek reference, cheek used to be like the biggest rapper in finland).

okay, time for melody and music speak. i only have one simple point here: melodically and musically speaking that has to be the most suomi iskelmä chorus i've heard from him. ever.

you could take that melody and insert it as the chorus to like any song on iskelmä radio. iskelmä is a finnish schlager music genre. kind of impossible to describe but something that finnish people will instantly recognise. the opening, with the piano synth could also open an iskelmä song.

very suomi, very iskelmä.

so.

all of this is why i think takavoltti is about as finnish as it gets. a suomi iskelmä about having serious issues with boundaries that uses clever finnish and paints a comedic picture of a banged up black-eyed käärijä who has dislocated his shoulder but is still showing thumbs up is like.. so much finnish condensed into three and a half minutes.

i know not everyone thinks the song is hilarious but i do. it's both hilarious and very serious and that's how we like it here.

and of course the fact that there is an "ai vittu" in there. we like that too.

[leezlelatch]

Trying to get back into writing, and I'm starting with a sort of continuing series of untitled snippets set in the same world with all the Papas. Stay tuned for more and I hope you enjoy. <3 Cardinal Copia x f!reader - intrigue, mystery, flirtation, talk of death, implied dark!copia.

You glance up from your place in the corner of the library, classical music playing through your headphones. You don’t know the piece, or who composed it, but the haunting melody that falls from the pianist’s fingers turns you introspective. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re introspective often these days. The flicker of a form just out of the corner of your eye makes you smile, but when you turn to look, there’s no one there. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since joining the Ministry, it’s that ghosts are real. And you’re never truly alone.

A few Siblings of Sin pass your table, and your eyes follow them to a few of the worn chairs that litter the library. They were red, a small golden pattern woven into the fabric, but you doubt there ever really was a prime for these pieces of furniture. To you, they’ve always been like that. Eaten away by some mite, stuffing sticking out of cushions that were either the best thing you’ve ever sat on, or a literal pain in the rear. There were many things like that in this abbey. Things, and even people, so old that you’re sure they’ve always existed just as they are, and no one was around to remember them before. 

The Siblings are staring at you, and you look away with an apologetic smile, having zoned out so hard, you didn’t realize you were practically gaping at them. Having an overactive imagination can put you in all kinds of embarrassing situations, or maybe it’s ADHD. Whatever is wrong with you, you’re sure there’s some acronym that explains it. Or maybe you’re something new altogether. A silly girl with a silly mind. Not exactly a rarity.

A muffled curse interrupts your thoughts and you turn your head to look into the stacks, right into the black biretta of the Cardinal Copia. He’s bent over, picking up a book, one gloved hand holding his biretta steady. You’ve never interacted with him outside of communion, but he was kind where it mattered, but something altogether sinister when he was angry. Or so you’ve heard. Every member of the Emeritus line had a story. Some were fanatical, some downright perverted, but the sentiment was always the same. The men that ruled your lives carried something dark within them. 

“How do you think they gained power?” A friend said to you one evening over dinner, the mood light. 

“Because it’s patrilineal?” You responded. “His father and his father and his father, you know how it goes.”

“Do you really believe that?” They asked, suddenly serious. Serious in a way that had sent a chill up your spine.

Whether you believed any of the stories is another thing entirely, but you aren’t so naive to think that behind a pretty accent and a perfectly placed, “cara mia,” there isn’t something lurking behind their white eye. And you were staring again. And the Cardinal notices, looking back at you with an eyebrow raised, his upper lip twitching as he regards you with a sudden defensiveness. 

“Eh…, may I help you, Sister?” He asks, his voice going up and slightly cracking around the question. You blink rapidly, a sort of startled noise of apology leaving you, internally berating yourself for staring at a member of the upper clergy like he’s a museum piece. 

“No! Oh, Go-, Satan, no. I’m so sorry, your Eminence,” you manage, standing up from your chair as if he is a drill instructor and you need to stand to attention. The Cardinal’s expression rapidly clears, and he dips his head a little, watching you with, you believe, amusement. 

“Still having trouble switching between G-O-D and Satan, hmm?” He muses, his head tilting a little to the side as he speaks. His right eye is soft, warm, and his left eye cuts like a knife. You aren’t sure which one you should be looking into.

“Did you just spell out…you know,” you say, waving your hand up, suddenly wondering if you weren’t actually allowed to say the word beyond just learning how to curse in Satan’s name instead of God’s. 

“Sì, sì,” he says slowly, leaning toward you just a little bit, the grucifix at his chest catching the light from the window as it dangles. “We don’t want that son of a bitch hearing, yeah? Oh wait, that’s Jesus.”

You burst into startled laughter, and the Cardinal smiles. His teeth are crooked, and it’s one of the most charming things you’ve ever seen. He’s trying to make you comfortable, you realize, a warmth filling you as all your anxiety falls away from one bad joke. “I’m sorry for gawking,” you clarify, safe now in the Cardinal’s gaze. “I was daydreaming, and I wasn’t staring at you, but through you, so…” You trail off. 

“No, no, I understand, heh,” he says, his shoulders rising at the same time he nods his head. “I, eh, I am familiar with the daydreaming, too. Also. Yeah.” His hand punctuates every word, rising and falling with the cadence of his speech, and then dropping to his side, his fingers scratching rapidly at his leg. He’s nervous. Something so sweetly human, you smile. 

You offer your name, and the Cardinal glances away, his brow pinching for just a moment. It’s there and gone, an expression you can’t read, and then he glances at you, catching you in his white gaze, the pupil a pinpoint. “I know,” he says easily.

“How do you -,” you begin to ask how he knows your name, but the Cardinal interrupts you, sweeping from the shadows of the stacks. He’s suddenly quite close, leaning over to peer at your book sitting closed on the table. 

“Ough,” he makes a noise, something between a hum and a word. “The Great Mortality.” He reads the title, tilting his head to pin you with a look. It’s far more knowing than you anticipate, like he’s reading you as easily as the pages of your book. He straightens. “You are interested in the plague, eh?”

“I am. The Black Death. Although it wasn’t called the Black Death, it was called the Great Mortality, see that’s a misconception,” you say, the information spilling from your lips. You shut your mouth and look at him, but he merely smiles, nodding his head for you to continue. “The plague wasn’t called that until sometime in the 17th century, from a Danish translation, I believe,” you finish.

“That is very good,” he says, tapping his fingers on the cover, his attention entirely fixed on you. “Very good. But a very morbid subject.” His eyes trace your features. “You will let your Cardinal read this when you are done.”

It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t pose it as a question, and you nod eagerly. “Are you interested in the subject, Cardinal?” 

“It seems I am becoming more and more,” he says, his eyes never wavering from your own. “We will discuss after? A little, uh, book club. We will see what we make of the pale rider.” 

You tilt your head a little in curiosity, and he follows the movement, his lips curling into another smile. “The pale rider?” You ask.

“Sì, tesoro. Death.” His smile grows, and you suddenly register the quiet. You look over your shoulder. The other Siblings are gone. It’s just the two of you, here in this corner of the library. When you turn back, you make a small noise of surprise, the Cardinal slipping past you, the very edge of his shoulder brushing against yours. “Until then,” he says, not looking back as he leaves. “Happy reading.”

[dadbodbuck]

pretty girl, princess

Rating: E | WC: 1k | Pairing: Buck/Tommy

this is a belated birthday present for the one and only @may-i-have-loops !!! happy birthday duckie <33333

{ Read it here on Ao3! }

Or continue below!

Tommy plays a lot of cards close to his chest. It’s something Buck noticed before, and it’s something he finds himself noticing again, now that they’re together again. Buck drags Tommy to couple’s counseling, and Tommy goes to individual therapy, and the longer they go, the more Buck wonders what sort of thing he’s biting back this time.

Because, here’s the thing. He trusts Tommy. It took a while, but he trusts that if this was a serious, relationship-altering concern, Tommy would have told him by now. Instead, Buck reasons that it’s probably something Tommy doesn’t think is a big deal. Or maybe something that embarrasses him. Or maybe both.

Buck allows himself one prying conversation. Just one. He makes up some rooibos milk tea and pours it into two mugs, taking one out to where Tommy is reading on the couch.

Tommy looks up, eyeing Buck suspiciously through his readers. “What’s up?”

“Why does something have to be up?” Buck returns, setting both mugs of tea on coasters on the side table and leaning down to kiss Tommy’s forehead.

“You have a look,” Tommy says, wrinkling his nose and gesturing in Buck’s general direction, “It means you’re about to ask me a question I won’t like.”

Buck sighs and sits in the recliner adjacent to the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. You got me. I—I think something’s weighing on you and you’re not telling me.”

Tommy glances down and away, and Buck thinks, bingo. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Is it about sex?” Buck asks, tilting his head to the side, “Is it a kink thing or a body thing? Are you starting to have trouble getting it up—”

“Jesus, Evan!” Tommy laughs, sliding a bookmark between the pages of his novel and sitting more upright. “No, I’m not getting erectile dysfunction. I hope we have a few years yet before that happens.”

“Okay,” Buck allows, “But you know I would love you even with erectile dysfunction, right?”

“Yeah, baby,” Tommy smiles softly, “You’re good to me like that.”

“Good,” Buck nods, “… Then what’s wrong? What could I be doing better?”

“Evan, you’re perfect,” Tommy assures him, “You’re hot and attentive and so, so athletic—”

“You can exploit my praise kink all you want later,” Buck smiles despite himself, “This is about you right now. Tell me about the deep dark skeletons in your closet, Kinard. Worst case scenario is that I’m not into whatever you’re into, and then we can just keep having sex like we normally do. No judgment, I promise.”

Tommy suddenly looks very, very nervous. He wipes his hands on his pants like they’re starting to sweat, and swallows. “I—uh. It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s okay,” Buck says easily, “We have time.”

Buck sits and waits, watching Tommy put the words together in his head. That’s something they had to practice—Buck tends to spit words out as soon as they formulate, and Tommy needs a few seconds to think things through.

When Tommy speaks again, it’s well worth the wait. “I want to be more feminine. During sex.”

Buck beams, and he watches the reaction catch Tommy completely by surprise. “Yeah? Tom, that’s not embarrassing at all. What about it do you like specifically?”

Tommy goes beet red and all shy. Buck feels a bolt of lust so powerful it nearly makes him fall out of his chair. “I. Um. I want to wear women’s clothing and makeup while you fuck me.”

“Okay,” Buck breathes, praying he doesn’t sound too desperate, “We can do that.”

“Really?” Tommy asks, big-eyed and hopeful.

“Tommy,” Buck says, “You want me to dress you up? You want me to make you look pretty?”

Something in Tommy’s eyes goes all fuzzy and soft, like he’s just barely holding himself back from giving in to a feeling he really, really wants. “Yeah.”

Buck drops to his knees and shuffles forward, coaxing Tommy’s legs open and looking up at him. “Is there anything else you want during this?”

“What’s on the table?” Tommy considers.

“I can call you feminine names,” Buck offers, “My princess, my sweet girl, my pretty baby,” Tommy shudders and whines, and Buck’s hands find his waist, slipping his thumbs under Tommy’s shirt to rub at his skin, “I can refer to your genitals with feminine anatomical terms. You want me to rub your pretty little clit? Bite your cute tits? Fuck your tight, wet pussy?”

“Yes,” Tommy whispers, “All of that. Please.”

“Is that all?” Buck asks, a little cockiness slipping into his voice, “You got yourself all worked up and the only thing you needed was for me to rub your clit?”

“‘m sorry,” Tommy squirms, in a tone of voice Buck doesn’t think he’s ever heard from him.

“Don’t apologize,” Buck says, dipping his head down to nose at the prominent, delicious bulge in Tommy’s basketball shorts, “I love making my pretty girl feel good.”

Tommy gasps, hips rolling forward on instinct, and Buck opens his mouth so his tongue can press up against Tommy’s cock, breathing in the smell of his arousal and tasting the fabric of his shorts.

Buck doesn’t fully pull Tommy out over the elastic, just enough so the head of his cock pokes out.

“Look at your cute little clit,” Buck coos, rubbing over the head with his thumb. Tommy shakes under his touch, so wrecked it’s making Buck painfully hard in his own pants. Buck continues rubbing in tight little circles, the way he used to for all his old partners. Apparently, it’s a skillset he’s lucky to have now, because Tommy responds beautifully, whining and panting like he’s running a marathon.

Buck leans forward and laps at the head of Tommy’s cock like he’s teasing a pussy; gentle, easy licks that make Tommy squeak.

“Honey, I’m—fuck,” Tommy grits out, fingers flexing on the couch cushion. Buck feels a surge of pride and switches back to rubbing Tommy’s cockhead with his thumb.

“You’re close?” Buck hazards, getting a wordless nod in return, “Oh, princess. Thank you for telling me. I want to see you squirt all over yourself, sweet girl. That’s it, let go for me, I want to see that pussy come—”

Tommy lets out a noise somewhere between a whine and a sob as he comes, spilling over Buck’s fingers and his shirt and his shorts. It’s enough to have Buck desperately shoving his hand down his own pants, getting off on the sight of Tommy so utterly wrecked and debauched.

They calm down together, catching their breath and waiting for their brains to come back online.

“We’re doing that again,” Buck decides, and all he gets in return is a mindless uh huh and another enthusiastic head nod.

[ventique18]

Book 7, Chapter 7, Episode 101:

So the DiaRamshackle squad landed in Ignihyde, where they meet the completely aware Idia. They had thought they got out of a dream into the "real world", but it turns out they're just outside of Lilia's dream but still within Malleus' magical domain expansion-- which is Idia's "dream" now. Proof of this is because Sebek's still wearing his armor.

At this point in time, apparently they haven't really conversed with Idia yet. Sebek barely remembers that Idia's the Ignihyde housewarden LOL.

Sebek: "... That's right! I knew I've seen that face before. You're Ignihyde's housewarden! Back at the entrance ceremony, you attended in some sort of board-like thing. This might be the first time I've seen you in proper form."

Sebek: "I am from Diasomnia, First Year, Class D, Seat 33, Sebek Zigvolt!!" WHY IS HE SO ENTHUSIASTIC LMAO

Sebek: "This dopey man right here is Silver. Second Year, from the same dormitory!!" (DOPEY DSJKNDAS HE'S BASICALLY SAYING HE LOOKS HIGH LMAO)

Idia: "Are Malleus and co.'s ears still fine from being blasted by this boombox everyday at close-range..."

Silver: "Everyone, on alert! Idia-senpai, Grim, prefect, get behind me and Sebek!"

AND SO SUDDENLY THEY'RE GETTING ATTACKED??

Idia: "Wuh?! What's this all of a sudden?! Ow, ow! I'm getting crushed between hard muscles and hard armor!"

IDIA????? IS THIS THE RIGHT TIME AND PLACE TO BE COMMENTING ON MUSCLES OMFG LMAO

So the "darkness" have come for Idia because they sensed that someone needs to be lulled back to sleep lol.

Grim: "Malleus might pop up again to say "You're awake?"..!"

Sebek: "The "darkness" are fine, though I do not know if we can win against Lord Malleus without Sir Lilia..."

"No, we are ready!"

Sebek: "Whether it be the darkness, or Lord Malleus... We will definitely strike back!!!"

Idia: "Uogh... Wai-- too close... Can't... breathe..!"

HE'S LITERALLY SHAKING BACK AND FORTH HELP

AND THEN SUDDENLY SOMEONE SPEAKS!

???: "About Malleus and the dark shadows... You don't need to worry about them for a while. I think he's spending considerable "resources" trying to get Lilia Vanrouge back to sleep."

Ortho: "Hehe, sorry for making you worry."

Apparently, Ortho's appearing in monitor mode for now because trying to appear as his usual form in Idia's dreams causes some serious errors.

Ortho: "Anyway... Everyone, brother's face is already turning blue from asphyxiation. Can you let him go now?"

So the two let go of him and Idia let's in a HUGE GASP FOR AIR

Idia: "ohh I almost descended to the underworld... Tha-thanks for the save, Ortho..."

So anyway, Sebek starts questioning the two what they mean by Malleus using up resources to put Lilia to sleep. Ortho starts the explanation by recounting events. That during Lilia's farewell party, Malleus put everyone to sleep-- no, froze time and space itself. But Ortho in particular managed to escape from the island through communications satellite. Everyone was shocked because Ortho could do something like that?! Ortho just laughs and says his "peculiarity" was helpful, because while he's not a mage and therefore cannot have a unique magic, he can transmit his "soul" through radio waves.

Sebek: "Loathe as I am to admit... but human advancement in machinery is amazing."

Silver chimes in and praises that Ortho's uniqueness is something they can never attain no matter how hard they train. Ortho moves on, explaining that he went to STYX headquarters and there, they hatched the plan for Ortho to infiltrate Sage Island in order to analyze Malleus' unique magic, Fae of Maleficence.

[tarithenurse]

Pirate's bounty

Fandom: MCU AU Pairing/starring: 1st mate!Bucky x Pirate princess!reader Word count: 1500 Content: Sparring, smut (oral, fem receiving). A/N: Oh...what’s this? Something fandom related?? Oops!

One night, as her friends are resting and the ship is quiet beneath the stars, she notices Bucky spying on her from the stairs – just his head poking up over the last step, door slightly ajar the way she’d left it.

“I see you,” she says, not bothering to stop the flow of movements.

A bit sheepishly, he steps out on deck. “Need a sparring partner?”

Stopping, [Y/N] considers what sort of opponent he’d be. “I’m afraid, I’d be no match for you.”

Rather than accepting her answer, he steps up and pulls out a vicious looking dagger from his belt – his great sword having been left behind in the cabin below deck. Taking the challenge, [Y/N] puts her rapier aside and draws her own daggers. Both.

They circle each other slowly at first before Bucky lunges with a straight slash towards [Y/N]’s shoulder. It’s easy to dodge and she suspects it was more to test her reflexes than to count for a strike.

Next time he strikes, she pivots around and manages to tap one of her daggers against his chest even as his free hand comes to block her.

“0-1,” the man admits.

As the larger person, he has the benefit of superior strength and he uses it to the best of his abilities but his target is small and nimble with excellent technique and so it is only in their third bout that he manages to score a point by grabbing hold of [Y/N] with one hand and yanking her backward against his chest as she was spinning away from his first attack.

“2-1,” she relents, waiting for him to release her. When he doesn’t let go, she wiggles in his grasp. “I said, you win that one.”

“I know,” he hums. But still holds her tight.

Listening for a moment to the sound of the waves and their breathing, [Y/N] considers if she’s missed something beside his plan that won him the bout but there’s nothing.

“Then let go.”

“Free yourself,” Bucky counters. “What would you do if an enemy had you in a hold like this?”

She considers it. He’s shifted the hold from grabbing the scruff of her shirt to being wrapped around her chest. His dagger is in his right hand but at a relatively safe distance. Slowly sheathing her own weapons (for the sake of safety), she formulates a plan: step on his toes, “stab” him with the left hand’s weapon which they’ll pretend [Y/N]’s still holding, while preparing to block with the right hand.

Carrying it out is like ramming face first into a stone wall: no effect other than a grunt when her heel crunches down on Bucky’s toe.

“You gotta do better than that. An enemy wouldn’t let you go so easily,” the large man growls.

She huffs. “An enemy would have been wounded in the thigh.”

“An enemy would be trained to deal with it.”

Squirming, all she manages to is to come face to face with him but try as she might, she can’t break free. [Y/N] sighs, closing her eyes a moment to avoid looking at the serious face of Bucky.

“Fine!” the young woman then hisses, “how am I supposed to do it?”

Slipping his own dagger away, Bucky repositions them and explains how she can use her shorter stature to her advantage, flipping him over so he lands on his back on the deck. It takes a few attempts before she gets it right but suddenly he goes flying over her back and head, landing hard. Quick as a cat, she follows. [Y/N] lands astride on his abdomen while her dagger flashes in the moonlight as she holds it to his throat.

“Perfect,” he hums, large hands on her thighs and the thumbs rubbing softly through the leather.

Confused, the young woman retreats, allowing Bucky to get back up. Even in the dark, she can see his eyes are dark with something she recognizes from when last they were this close – but that shouldn’t be possible. And yet...a memory presses into her mind of how it felt when he kissed her and the urge to try it again blooms within [Y/N] once more.

Bucky is big for a human, yes. Large in stature and musculature and personality. He has a cockiness to him that she hates and admires at the same time. Right now he’s using all of it as he struts towards her, making her back up until her back hits the mast.

“Put the dagger away,” he purrs and dumb as she is, she obeys. “Good girl. Tell me to stop and I will.”

Wrinkling her brows, [Y/N] considers what he means, if he means what she thinks he is implying, and whether she wants it. She doesn’t stop him. Not even as he grabs her by the waist and lifts her onto his thigh. Or when he dibs his head down to carefully brush his lips against hers.

It’s a soft kiss. Slower than the first they shared and it has her whimpering into his mouth by the end of it. An end where she also realizes that she’s holding on to him for dear life.

“Your father would kill me,” Bucky huffs.

“He’s not here,” she insists, out of breath too.

Cupping his jaw, [Y/N] guides his lips back where she wants them, shutting them both up apart from the delicate moans and whimpers that the wind steals away.

While his hands are steadily holding on to her hips, the young woman’s fingers are dancing along his muscles on his shoulders, back, arms, chest – anywhere she can reach – but they still when he rocks her, causing the pressure between her legs to shift and spark something she’s never felt before.

Alarmed, she pulls back, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s alright,” Bucky purrs, “I’ve got you.”

Allowing him to do it again, [Y/N] realizes what she’s feeling, heat rushing to her cheeks invisibly but her understanding is given away by the way her nails dig into his skin at the sensation.

It’s all him at first, gently moving her into a rhythm that causes the need to blossom until she rocks on his thigh on her own volition, chasing the delicious pressure while she clings to his shoulders.

It’s like standing at a precipice, wanting to jump into the void but not daring too, merely toeing the edge. Tense and focused, [Y/N] chases a foreign high and so she pouts when Bucky manhandles her over his shoulder, stopping the sweet pressure of a caress. He carries her to the very bow of the ship, ducking down behind a large coil of rope for the anchor to lay her down.

“Buck-” she starts.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

Already fumbling with the strings of her trousers, it’s not long before he’s bared her, leaving the clothing tangled around her ankles as if too much in a rush as he kneels there, trapping her feet in place even as he pushes her knees apart. Bending down with a purr, he noses at the remaining fabric, nudging at the sweet spot that’s tender and tingly from rocking against his broad thigh. The man’s hand is big as it slides up her inner thigh, thumb gliding under her underwear, causing her to realize that she’s soaked by something.

“Oh,” she gasps as his thumb swipes through the wetness up to her pearl, circling it slowly and causing intense ripples of need to rush through her.

“I’ve got you,” he promises again.

Kissing the right knee, there’s nothing rushed about Bucky. He just takes his time to pamper her with his hands and lips and tongue, slowly peeling her underwear away to grant him the view of the soaking cunt.

Suddenly [Y/N] is worried. “I’ve never -”

“I know,” he shushes.

Bending down, he licks a broad stripe from her entrance to the pearl, causing her to shudder and gasp. He finishes with circling and flicking, eliciting new ripples of pleasure to wash through the young person. Then he dives in fully, like a man starved he devours her cunt until her back arches and she has to stifle a loud groan by biting into her own hand. The stars above are blurry, blacking out as the delight surges and peaks, stealing her breath away.

Bucky brings her down, gently lapping at her and rubbing soft circles on the hips that he’s held on to to prevent her from bucking too much.

Eventually he stills too. Looks up at her with a satisfied and cocky grin that glistens with her juices.

“Go get some rest,” the large person directs her, “you’ll sleep better now.”

It takes her a moment to figure out her clothes. Even longer to gain control of her legs that feel soft and wobbly, enhancing the roll of the ship. But she does as she’s told, silently cursing herself for allowing this to happen because she knows she’ll want more.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Sugar Daddy Chronicles, Part One/?

pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller/dave york/marcus pike x sex worker/sugar baby!reader

rating: E (18+ only, this is just filth, sex work, unprotected piv, foursome, anal, oral (f & m receiving), the boys use their words)

wc: 2k

a/n: i wrote this for the SWEETEST ANGEL IN THE WORLD @emilianamason and her birthday. te amo hermanita y feliz cumple !!! 🫶🏼

You’d met Dave by chance. During a short stint working as a bartender at an upscale bar, Dave came in looking as serious as ever in his expensive coat and suit—a prime target for a solid tip if you played your cards right. Thankfully, Dave turned out to be quite handsome and charming, his dark eyes and deep voice drawing you in until you no longer cared about the tip you were working for. All you wanted was him. When he took you home that night, he explained his recent divorce and inability to carry on something serious at the moment, and you accepted the fact that this would be a one night thing. But Dave had something else in mind.

“You come and see me when I call,” he said, dragging his lips down the line of your neck as he undid your bra. “I make it worth your while.”

“How?” you asked, your voice breathy and dazed.

“Anything you want,” he said. “Anything. Ask for it, and it’s yours.”

“Like…sexually?” you asked, earning a chuckle.

“Anything. Sex, money, jewelry, whatever,” he said.

And that was how your new career began.

It was just Dave for a while, but during a particularly long business trip of his, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to open your clientele up a bit, still keeping things incredibly selective, of course.

That’s how you met Joel, a gruff, single dad who owned a contracting company that had only just taken off after his fortieth birthday. Joel was an easy client. He knew exactly what he wanted from you, never pushed your boundaries, and always compensated you handsomely for your time together—not that the payment was even on your mind by the time he was through with you. Joel liked things rough most of the time—not so rough that he ever hurt you, but rough enough to leave a satisfying ache between your legs for a day or two after. And though he was rough, he loved taking the time to work up to it, telling you that he’d happily keep his head between your thighs for hours if he could, and you’d often let him.

Once Dave came back, he introduced you to a distant coworker and friend he met at a conference, Marcus, another government agent of some sort—he kept the specifics of his job discreet and separated from your arrangement, just like Dave. Marcus came to you for stress relief, and his favorite form of stress relief involved near-torturous teasing and edging until he couldn’t remember his own name. But Marcus was unlike Dave and Joel in that he liked the extra stuff that they didn’t: cuddling, kissing, conversation. He wanted to be your friend as well as your client, and who were you to deny those sweet eyes of his?

One night after a particularly athletic session, Dave had asked you who your favorite client was and why. Judging by the confidence in his voice, you knew he expected you to tell him that he was your favorite by a long shot, but truthfully, it was hard to compare them all. Dave was passionate and kinky, Joel was rough and giving, and Marcus was attentive and precise. All of them were your favorite, you thought.

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging as you tugged your jeans over your hips. “Hard to choose. I’d need to…I don’t know.”

“Need to what?” he probed, watching you from his spot on the bed.

“Need to have you all in one place to judge,” you said, giving him a mildly embarrassed smile. “But that—“

“That’s a good idea,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “I’ll win.”

You laughed at his confidence and shook your head. “Too bad we’ll never find out,” you said, pulling on your shoes.

“Why not?” You gave Dave a quirked brow. “I’m in.”

“I don’t think they’d be into it.”

“Why not ask? Worst thing they could say is no,” he said. You felt yourself start to melt at the idea of being surrounded by the three of them in bed, each of them competing to win you over and make you feel good. It was a good idea, but could you ever convince the other two?

Turns out, you could. And now you were laying spread eagle on a hotel bed recovering from two orgasms brought on by Dave and Marcus’ tongues. Dave now laid on your right, Marcus on your left, while Joel laid on his stomach between your thighs, pushing you over another peak.

“Fuck,” you cried, tossing your head back to give Dave access to his favorite spot on your neck, his hand cupping the weight of your breast while Marcus mouthed at the other, his hand on your thigh keeping you spread open for Joel. “You win,” you breathed, pushing his tongue away as you shook with every swirl of his tongue against you. “God, I don’t know if—“

“Uh-uh,” Dave tutted in your ear, sliding his hand down your stomach to circle your clit as Marcus and Joel switched positions. “We’re just getting started.”

“Mmhm,” Joel agreed, turning your chin to draw your eyes to his. “Still wanna show you how good I fuck you.”

“Not until I’m done,” Marcus said, pulling your eyes to him as he sat between your thighs, his fist wrapped around his cock as he dragged it up and down your seam. You shivered at the feeling of him against you, somehow feeling needy again already. “Can I? Can I fuck you, baby?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your head falling back against the pillows as he nodded and pressed inside you slowly, making you feel every inch. “Fuck, Marcus.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, smiling down at you as his hands moved to the back of your thighs to push them up to your chest. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your face wrecked with pleasure as he methodically found the perfect pace and angle to fuck you just how you liked, his natural attention to detail on display. “It’s so good, Marcus. Fuck.”

“Making me jealous,” Dave purred against your shoulder, leaving a love bite there. “Have I showed you how I fuck when I’m jealous?”

His words made you whine and arch your back, drawing Marcus even deeper.

“Shit,” Marcus moaned, his fingers gripping your thighs. “So good, baby.”

“You ready to share yet?” Dave asked, clearly growing impatient.

“You want Dave, baby?” Marcus asked, slowing his thrusts into a deep grind.

“Mmhm,” you nodded eagerly, biting your lip as you looked down at where Dave was stroking his thick length. “Fuck, yeah, I do.”

“You want both of us?” Dave asked, circling your clit as Marcus kept fucking into you slowly. “Marcus fucking your pussy, me in your ass.”

You whined and nodded, choosing to shove your nerves aside in favor of Dave’s sinful plan.

Marcus helped you up and took your place on the bed, guiding you onto his lap so that you could sit on his dick while Dave got comfortable behind you, coating his head with lube he must’ve brought along with this very thing in mind before pressing against your tighter hole gently.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, whispering in your ear as he kept you still on Marcus’s lap while he eased himself inside.

“Shit, it’s so much,” you sighed, trying to relax into the feeling rather than fight it.

“Need a distraction?” Joel asked, standing up on the bed at your side, his fist working his cock until it was leaking.

“You’re definitely the biggest,” you noted in a pant, earning scoffs from the two men inside of you. “What? You told me to be honest.”

Joel smirked down at you as you reached over and wrapped your fist around him only to find that your fingertips couldn’t touch.

“See?” you said, earning a grunt from Dave as he finally bottomed out inside of you.

“That’s not really what I care about looking at here,” Marcus said, his hands smoothing up your sides until he was cupping the weight of your breasts. “How about I watch you ride instead?”

You smiled and nodded, licking your lips and leaning in to take Joel into your mouth before lifting your hips to rock against both Dave and Marcus, all three men moaning in unison at your affect on them. It was intoxicating, being desired this much by these gorgeous men. So intoxicating, you thought, you might just have to make this a normal thing.

“‘at’s it,” Joel purred, cupping your cheek as you took him in deep enough to sputter. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

“You like that, baby?” Dave asked, leaning over to whisper in your ear as he started to match your bounces with thrusts of his own. “You like how being told how good you are?”

“Yeah, she does,” Marcus chimed in, smiling at you as he watched you take Joel down your throat.

Your mind was mush, nothing but a string of muffled cries and whines and the lewd sounds of Joel fucking your throat coming out of you.

“Baby, I’m so close,” Marcus announced, his hands gripping at your waist to keep you still while he and Dave alternated sharp, quick thrusts into you, the pleasure trickling down into your thighs until your legs felt like jelly.

“Need you to cum for us,” Dave purred in your ear.

“Be a good fuckin’ girl and cum,” Joel ordered, his southern drawl deep and dark and delicious.

You pulled off of Joel right before you felt yourself slipping off into bliss, your hand stroking his slick shaft as you cried out, leaning back against Dave until it felt like you were on solid ground again.

“Can I cum inside you, baby?” Marcus asked, his voice as sweet and sinful as ever. “Look so pretty full of me, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, thanking the heavens that birth control exists. “Cum inside me, Marcus, baby.”

“Shit,” Marcus hissed, his brows screwing together as he fucked into you selfishly, chasing his pleasure until it hit him like a truck. “Jesus.”

“Look at me,” Joel ordered, using a finger to tilt your chin up at him. “Wanna paint that pretty fuckin’ face.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, licking your lips. “Go ahead, paint it.”

Joel took his cock in his hand and stroked it, it’s slick sound filling the room along with the slap of Dave’s hips into your ass and his whispered promises of how he’s going to fill you up because you were “so fucking good for me”.

“Shit,” Joel grunted, his chest heaving and muscles flexing as he reached his peak. His tense jaw went slack as he watched his release paint your face, a moan slipping from his lips when you poked your tongue out to swipe over your lips to get a taste of him. “Fuck me.”

“You ready, baby?” Dave nipped at your shoulder before leaning back to watch himself cum inside of you with a satisfied sigh, as if this had been all he ever wanted in his whole life. “I don’t think it matters which one of us is best in bed. You’re clearly the winner here, baby.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, sated and sleepy as Joel grabbed a washcloth for your face.

“I knew that from the start,” Marcus said, combing his fingers up and down your thighs.

“So, how much is this meeting gonna cost us?” Dave asked, always one to get right to the point.

“This one’s on the house,” you said, letting Joel clean your face free of his mess.

“Not gonna happen,” Joel muttered, something equally strict and affectionate in his tone. “You earned it.”

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 28

Primal - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.4k words

It had all started when Sebastian had caught his kindred spirit sneaking out of the dorms late at night. He’d been up late reading on the common room couch when he saw her sneak by in what she thought was an undetected fashion.

He’d gotten up, carefully placing his book off to the side to follow her outside of the castle walls. She’d made her way all the way to the entrance of the Forbidden Forest before he’d revealed himself and questioned her. “Not off to naughty places in the dead of night are you? Sounds too much like something I’d do.”

She’d jumped, panic clutching at her heart as she turned to face him. Her body doing its best to process the correct action for this threat. “Oh! Sebastian! I can explain. I just…erm…”

Sebastian straightened, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk across his lips. Her resolve faltered when she took in his mussed hair and rolled sleeves. She experienced an odd sort of de ja vu as the dream she’d just woken from in her bed seemed to flash in front of her eyes.

In the dream, none other than Hogwart’s best dueling had been chasing her through the forbidden forest, causing her heart rate to skyrocket. She had woken from the dream in a sweaty heap on the bed when her dream Sebastian had pinned her to a tree and stated just how thoroughly he’d defile her against it.

Needless to say, ending up in the forbidden forest with the man who'd just taken her so lustfully in her dreams was a bit of a shock. Still in disbelief she picked the skin of her arm just to make sure she wasn't sleeping again and was somewhere between pleased and sad to realize she was indeed awake.

The pinch wasn't lost on Sebastian’s speculative eyes as they took in her lack of composure. His coffee brown orbs traced up the skin of her arms to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “What’s got you so worked up? Is everything okay?”

He’d stepped forward to comfort her and she stumbled backwards away from him to keep the distance between them. Not yet trusting enough of herself to keep her from saying or doing something stupid.

Sebastian crossed his arms again, leaning his weight all on one foot. “What's going on with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Although knowing you. Perhaps you have.”

She swallowed hard, giving a hesitant laugh as she adjusted her footing. She took a deep breath and tried to will the oxygen to process in her racing mind. “I erm, woke from a strange dream and I’m getting an odd bit of deja vu is all. Nothing to be so concerned for. I just came for a walk to clear my mind.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Hm. Yes. A calming walk in the Forbidden Forest to calm the mind in the dead of night. Sounds just like what you need. Let’s see, what was this ‘dream’ of yours about. Hm?”

She swallowed, the composure she’d just gained flying right out the window. “Oh erm, well I…hardly find it appropriate to share with a classmate.”

A dark chuckle left his mouth and he took a slow step toward her. “Ah I see. You're having dirty dreams about me and you in the Forbidden Forest then? How uncouth of you to be getting me involved in a scandal even while you sleep.”

Her mouth was far too dry to respond to him or react when he took another small step toward her. “You know, if you share what exactly happened in your dream, maybe I’ll find it in myself not to take the knowledge of your little night adventure to the headmaster. I’m sure he’d be very interested in speaking to you.”

Her eyes met his and her stomach sank as she realized he looked entirely serious. “Y-You want to hear what happened in my dream? Why?”

He shrugged, leaning his body against a nearby tree. “Call it curiosity. Call it a fantasy. Really call it whatever you like. But using your dirty dreams as fodder for my own surely sounds quite pleasant. Especially knowing what my new charge really thinks about me behind closed doors.”

She sighed, pushing the part of her that gave off every alarm bell in the book, deep, deep down inside of her and stuffing it under the wave of teenage hormones that surfaced. “W-well…in the dream you’d brought me out here to scavenge for something you’d found in a book from the restricted section. B-but in order to get the thing to show up…we had to induce the fear of the hunted.”

His eyes widened in surprise as he listened to her. “S-so you had me run and you hunted me down…and it excited me…made my adrenaline spike and you sensed it…and decided to…do something else with me as a thank you for helping you.”

He unfolded his arms, giving her a look and taking in the small details he hadn't before. The rise and fall of her chest, her pink cheeks, her thighs pressed tightly together. “So this dream, it has you quite worked up, right?”

She nodded, embarrassment flaming to life on her cheeks as she took a breath. “In truth, yes. I can’t say I’m not attracted to it. I’m sorry for dreaming such things about you but It’s not like I meant to do it.”

He grinned, stepping forward to close the gap between them. “Oh my dear. There’s no need to be sorry for the pleasurable little dreams your mind makes up. But, if for some reason you want those little dreams to come true…all you need to do is ask.”

His eyes had darkened as he said it, causing her heart rate to pick up as he stepped back and watched her fumble over her words. Next thing she knew, she was giving him a small nod, causing a satisfied growl to leave him as well as his own nod. “Run.”

She gasped, turning and immediately taking off into the Forbidden Forest. She ran, fast and faster, as hard as her legs could take her while she held her Hogwarts robes in her hands to avoid snagging or tripping over the edges of it.

She kept running, hard. She could hear his deep rumbling chuckle all around her it seemed. No matter how fast or how hard she ran. She could see him all around her. This was even better than her dream.

Her heart nearly stopped when she flicked her head forward only to halt in her tracks. Standing smugly in front of her was none other than Sebastian Sallow not looking like he’s ran for even half a minute.

Sebastian moved forwards and grasped her shoulder, twisting them so her back was placed against the tree. She had bits of twigs and leaves in her hair from the brush she’d run through and he chuckled, plucking it out of her hair.

Once he had her back pinned against the tree she stuttered uselessly over her words while he pressed her back against the bark, only protected by her school robes.

He chuckled darkly, pinning her harshly as he lifted her skirts. She moaned pleasurably as he pulled his wand, binding her to the tree with a simple spell. “Silly witch. Exerting so much energy to run with those pretty legs instead of just using magic.”

She whimpered as invisible ropes pinned her to the tree. The rough pads of Sebastian’s fingers brushed against the soft sensitive skin of her thighs as he held her skirts up. “Do you want me to fuck you against this tree darling?”

She whimpered, nodding enthusiastically. He smiled, undoing his trousers, pulling himself out and sliding her underwear to the side. “Not a very proper lady are you? Just wanting a quick and dirty fuck in forbidden places we aren’t even allowed. Such a dirty girl for me. My perfect girl.”

He plunged himself inside her heat, gritting his teeth and grunting as her soaking wet core willingly accepted him. She moaned as he filled her inch by delicious inch. Crying out when he bottomed out inside of her.

He was merciless, taking his pleasure and using her pliant body. She clenched eagerly as his hips postponed into her tightness. He fucked her hard, groaning at her walls tightening around her. “Merlin, you're so tight. Gonna cum around my cock already?”

She writhed under the invisible binds, body willing and needy as she tightened around him, moaning unabashedly. “Fuck, you really are gonna cum. That’s a good girl. Let go for me, pretty little thing.”

Her head smacked backwards against the bark as she constricted around him desperately. He practically growled in her ear as she fell apart, his own orgasm following quickly behind hers, filling her warmth as his teeth sunk deep into her neck.

Kinktober Prompt List

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Qualities of a Leader

Heatwave struggles with knowing when to be firm as the leader of the Rescue Bots. Optimus gives him a few pointers.

Enjoy my contribution to the Rescue Bots zine! @turbofox-zines

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Heatwave, is something troubling you?” Optimus came to stand beside him, startling Heatwave slightly as the far larger mech came to a stop.

“No Sir.” Heatwave answered simply as he watched his team and their human wards play a few feet away. From what Heatwave could see, they were fighting over what movie they wanted to watch that evening. A ridiculous waste of time in his opinion.

“There is no need to lie. What is concerning you?” Optimus looked down at him, the elder mech’s optics glowing in what could have been concern. Heatwave did not dare assume anything about the Prime, but he answered nonetheless.

“I don’t understand how they do it.” He replied as he gestured toward where Blades and Cody were laughing, the younger of the duo throwing a pillow at the helicopter’s helm. Boulder laughed and Chase chastised them both as Kade and Dani chuckled. Graham was out doing some sort of work, and so there was no one to serve as the mediator between the human young present. It was absolute chaos.

“What do you mean?” The Prime questioned gently, very nearly causing Heatwave to do a double take with how soft Optimus’s voice was. He still half expected Optimus to scream orders like every other soldier or commander Heatwave had the displeasure of meeting. Kindness was surprising.

“How can they sit and play around with the organics under our supervision? We are Rescue Bots, not newspark sitters.” Heatwave answered honestly, agitation lacing his tone as his plating flared in response to the group before him growing more rowdy. Did they forget they were at war? They had duties to fulfill.

“Is their mingling truly a detriment?” Optimus asked with the tone of a patient mentor questioning their ward. 

“It wastes time. We could be doing other things, preparing to move out, or even training. But instead, they are… playing games and watching films.” Heatwave attempted to explain while doing his best to not be ruffled by the Prime’s choice of words. He was not a newspark, he did not need to be coddled.

“Heatwave, a soldier cannot always be on watch, nor can a Rescue Bot forever be at the ready. Rest is as essential as skill.” Optimus laid a servo on Heatwave’s shoulder, prompting the firetruck to pause in his brooding to look up in confusion. The Prime offered a kind smile before he continued.

“I have a feeling this is not entirely about the recreational activities of your companions.” The Prime met his gaze kindly, and Heatwave grumbled.

“I just don’t get it. Why do they even bother with these activities? The humans will never understand us, they will never be able to. It's always us who have to make the effort to understand them.” He gestured over to the humans again, his face set into a scowl even as his spark spun in longing. Why did he care about what they were doing? He was their leader. If they weren’t going to be serious, then he had to in their stead.

“We live in dark times, Heatwave. Our world is dead and war rages on all sides. This island is a small safe haven, a place of peace.” Optimus’s voice broke Heatwave from his brooding. He shuffled from pede to pede as the Prime gained a distant look in his optics, one Heatwave saw in Bumblebee too. 

“The Rescue Bots may not be on the front lines, but you all feel the pressure of what looms in the future. There is no shame in seeking comfort where it is offered.” Wisdom seemed to emanate from Optimus as he smiled comfortingly, although it did little to ease Heatwave’s discomfort. Despite the way his plating felt too tight for his frame, he sighed and conceded.

“I can’t just go playing games, Sir. I have to lead and keep them in line.” Heatwave admitted softly, trying hard not to let his spark ache as he watched Boulder laugh at Chase tripping over something or other. He hated to admit it, but he wanted to be with them too.

“Yes, you are their leader. However, you are also a fellow Autobot. A leader must know when to be firm and when to mingle with those under his command.” The words registered, but Heatwave paused in uncertainty. 

“What are you suggesting?” He questioned his superior officer somewhat hesitantly. Optimus again gained that faraway look before he patted Heatwave on the back in a friendly manner.

“Go and enjoy these moments while they are available. Come the dawn, you will need to bear the burden of leadership again, but for now, you can rest Heatwave. You are a fine leader, and there is no shame in allowing the mantle to fall for a while.” There was something so extremely tired in the way Optimus spoke. It left Heatwave reeling a bit as the Prime continued.

“View it as a team building exercise if you must, but allow yourself a moment to vent. Even the strongest leaders require rest and companionship.” There was wisdom in his words, wisdom that Heatwave had next to no time to process before the Prime wandered off, waving to him as he did so. Heatwave stood there dumbly for a while, his processor thrown into overdrive as he contemplated. 

Perhaps… Optimus was right.

“Team building exercise…” Heatwave mumbled as he took a deep vent and stepped closer to his rambunctious team and human wards. They were bickering over a film of some sort. Chase was holding up what looked to admittedly be an incredibly dull documentary, Boulder had a cartoon on DVD that he was advocating for, and Blades was quick to hold up another case with cheap looking monsters on the cover.

“Heatwave! We are going to watch a horror film! Could you sit with me please?” Blades asked timidly as Cody took the film and threw it into the DVD player before anyone else could get a word in. Chase grumbled, Dani pouted, and Kade laughed. Heatwave for his part sighed as Blades looked up at him pleadingly. 

“You are a real crybaby sometimes, you know that, Blades?” Dani, ever the jester, prodded playfully from where she had chosen to drape herself on a nearby platform, blankets and pillows galore. 

“Horror movies are scary!” The helicopter insisted as the film began to play the opening sequences. Blades jumped as a cheap looking zombie wandered on screen alongside the title of the film, prompting Kade to laugh. 

“The blood is all fake, and you can clearly see the editing software effects-” Chase attempted to point out the lack of any real scare factor in the film as Heatwave edged closer subconsciously. The desire to be involved along with the all encompassing urge to stop any fights before they could start had him drawing nearer to the mess of blankets and other soft cushioning strewn about before he knew it.

“Way to ruin the mood.” Cody pouted as he settled down on Chase’s lap. The police car for his part did not react beyond pulling up a blanket for the youngest of their human wards as the movie began to roll.

“Half the fun of horror movies is laughing at the bad effects.” Kade remarked as he too settled in around Boulder’s pedes. The usually brash fireman seemed completely at ease as he snacked on some popcorn.

“Blades has a point, though. The jump scares can be a bit much.” Boulder added before Cody shushed him.

“Enough. I will sit with you Blades.” Heatwave, realizing he was practically wrapped up in the blankets, sat down beside his skittish teammate. There was no point trying to wander off with dignity now. Besides, what could be the harm in staying? Patrols were done and work for the next cycle was already completed. By staying, he could keep an optic on his team and settle his spark’s anxious spin. 

“Really?! I didn’t think-” Blades looked up at him with starry optics, to which Heatwave rolled his own in a fond manner.

“Yeah, yeah now be quiet so we can watch this film.” Heatwave grumbled without any true agitation lacing his tone. To the humans he must have sounded as gruff as always, but to his fellows it was quite clear that his glyphs had no true bite.

He was content, and so was his team.

“Thank you, Heatwave.” Blades whispered as the movie began and horribly cheap special effects assaulted their vision. It was such a ridiculous activity, but Heatwave found himself enjoying it all the same. On a planet not their own and in a structure not made by their kind, they were watching a stupid movie and all was right with the world. 

Maybe Optimus was right. A little downtime couldn’t hurt. Team building exercises were essential, after all. 

“You’re welcome.” Heatwave murmured as he felt himself calm for the first time in weeks. He was safe, and he was home, at least for now.

[good-beanswrites]

john x fuuta ?👉👈 or 090309

I love the dynamic between them all, thank you for the request! I went with an earlier meeting for them (well, one of the first times Fuuta's aware of speaking with John, at least). As much as I joke about Fuuta being starstruck by his strength in the attack, I tried to take a more serious route for the "something to rely on" vibe.

John’s eyes flicked over Fuuta, sprawled out on his bedding and looking up expectantly.

“Man, you look like shit.”

Fuuta scowled deeper. “I asked for the reason you’re here in the middle of the fucking night, not your opinion.”

“That is the reason I came.”

Somehow, amid all the other things he had to worry about given the horror of the past few days and exile that followed, Mikoto had still found the time to lose sleep over Fuuta’s condition. John had always liked the guy, but he wasn’t in the business of watching over people he didn’t truly care about. He didn’t know what Mikoto saw in him to cause such an overreaction.

Though, with the futon dragged to the bars of the cell, and bathing him in the dim light of the guard’s tower, it was becoming clear that Mikoto’s concern was indeed warranted. Fuuta appeared deathly. The fresh injuries had been bandaged, but there were stains where blood was beginning to seep through. His eye – the one that had survived the ordeal – was bloodshot and rimmed with dark bags. His hair was as tangled as the rumpled hoodie it poked out of.

Fuuta was still staring in anticipation. It took John a moment to understand why. 

“You recognize me.”

“No shit. Mikoto came in here like a fumbling idiot earlier today. He wanted to make sure I was okay or whatever. Like I’d be okay after what happened!” He paused, a clanging from someone else’s cell briefly distracting him. “But you… the way you carry yourself… it’s different.”

“Not that different. I’m here for the same reason.”

The plan was simple. Once Fuuta slept, Mikoto would relax, and everyone would be happy. If it turned out to be his injuries keeping him awake, John didn’t mind crushing Fuuta’s pride and explaining his weakness to the doctor to get more painkillers. If it was noisy neighbors, he’d teach one of those girls a lesson the following day. If the problem was just plain insomnia, well, John’s swinging arm was still completely functional...

“I just want to make sure you’re sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me you’re as disgustingly sentimental as him.”

John’s expression twitched. He didn’t appreciate the condescension. That was Mikoto’s most admirable trait, after all – offering help to others even when he was falling apart himself. He was so selfless, so self-sacrificial. It was no wonder John felt compelled to do the same for him. But Fuuta…

“Ugh, he’s always trying to be buddy-buddy with everyone around here, it makes me sick. Nice words don’t do shit. Look where his friendship with Kotoko got him, eh? That’s what these fools still don’t understand – you need to face these things head-on.”

“Oi, don’t be hard on me just for caring.” He didn’t say it as any sort of gentle encouragement; it was a command, and Fuuta understood. He snapped his attention away from where he’d been peering around the bars. “The world needs more people with that kindness. That optimistic view of life, of others, no matter what – it’s why I’ll do everything I can to save me.”

Silence stretched after the intense comment. Fuuta was looking away again, and John couldn’t read him. When he did speak, his voice came out more defeated than expected.

“Tch. Well. Not all of us have that luxury.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

His eyebrows raised.

Cheeks reddening, Fuuta hurried to add, “I mean someone to have your back like that. I wish I could be half as relaxed as that, but I can’t afford to let my guard down. I need to be strong myself, I don’t have anyone else to take care of my problems for me.”

It hit him suddenly, that everything came down to that. Relief washed over him, now that a clear, easy, (and nonviolent) solution had presented itself.

“What if you did? I could take over your little sentry duty for the night.”

“W-what do you –?”

He gestured to where Fuuta was laying. “No need to play dumb. You’ve been keeping an eye on everything, even the other side of the guard’s tower. The sounds from around cell eight have caught your attention. You’re positioned so you can see cell six, but haven’t moved all the way over, because cell ten has easiest access from the right.”

“The others would say it’s pointless, or that they’re handling it. I’m not buying it, though. I don’t care if they say it’s crazy of me to do.”

“I think…” John’s posture softened. “I think it’s very selfless of you.”

He was constantly amazed at Fuuta’s tendency to react to everything as if it were some world-shattering statement just told to him.

“So?” He prodded before Fuuta’s expression could grow any more wide-eyed. “How about it?”

 “I mean… they told me about the attacks… what you did…”

John set his jaw. No matter how many times it had happened in the past few days, it still stung to see how quickly people turned against him because of the fight. He thought they all had come to terms with each other’s capabilities for violence, but as usual, the moment he showed his true face, the world turned against him.

Of course Fuuta could never relax knowing such a violent and unpredictable person was sitting right beside him through the night. It was a miracle he hadn’t panicked immediately at the sight of yet another cold, towering figure appearing at his door in the middle of the night.

John stretched his right arm across his chest. It looked like his original solution still stood. Fuuta said problems should be faced head-on. Surely he’d understand this was for his own good.

“…Yeah, okay.” Fuuta gave a decisive nod. He beckoned with a jerk of his head. “I trust you.”

“I –” John blinked. “What?”

“You understand me. You understand what it takes to be in a place like this.” His gaze flit away momentarily. “You’re incredibly strong. You’re prepared, and have good instincts, and your confidence is –" Noticing how intently John was listening, he interrupted himself to bark, “but don’t think I couldn’t handle this on my own! It’s only because you offered, and it’s a smart move. I’ll just sleep for a bit, we can take shifts. Wake me in three hours, okay?”

“Fine by me.” A little lying was definitely better than what else he’d had in mind.

Fuuta moved his futon over a few feet so John could settle into his carefully chosen spot on the ground. Everything was all set to begin keeping watch, until a new sound rose up to drown out the other noises in the panopticon – soft snoring from beside him.

He glanced over in disbelief at the instantaneous security Fuuta had sunk into. All the tension had melted away from his face and shoulders. He lay completely at peace.

John had achieved his goal. He should be celebrating. Instead, he couldn’t help heaving a heavy sigh.

How did he end up with two self-destructive idiots to watch over?

[in-halingstardust]

hi love! i saw your hsr matchup event is live and i'd like to send my request~ pronouns: she/her/they/them gender: female spice tolerance: spicy personality indicators: intj 5w4 ; melancholic-choleric signs: pisces sun / taurus rising / taurus moon hogwarts house: ravenclaw alignment: neutral good alignment preferred gender to be matched with: male

personality: studious, business-minded, tech-savvy, a little bit of a perfectionist, tends to overwork, stubbornly independent, calm and composed, intimidating at first glance (according to colleagues), reserved and extremely introverted, protective to loved ones, obedient and respectful to authorities but will not hesitate to call them out if necessary, blunt, idealistic, highly organised, loves to play video games or read and write books on spare time, passionate, drawn to mysterious, historical, gothic, and horror subjects

hobbies + likes: researching abandoned and haunted places, writing, reading, exams, stationery, business-related topics (esp finance), coffee shops, bookstores and libraries, electronic shops, technology, video games, dark royalty / dark academia aesthetic, classical literature, classical music, detective/crime/mystery/horror stories (esp. from 19th century), cats, history, listening and belting out to musicals when alone, greek mythology

dislikes: bugs, studying repetitive subjects without gaining new knowledge, failure to meet own expectations, unnecessary change

physical description (in case you need it): dark brown hair that reaches the middle of the thighs, brown almond eyes, warm ivory skin tone, top hourglass figure, wears glasses and switches them out with purple contacts sometimes, always wears a necklace and a pair on rings on both hands

if you need anything else, feel free to ask! thanks!

First of all, I want to say I absolutely love your works with the TWST fandom! I have read through so many of them on my "main" (well more like my dead) blog. This is a little longer, but more of a thank you for me for your stories :,D

I'm going to pick Dr. Ratio for you! ⋆⭒˚.˚.⋆⭒˚.⭒˚.⋆

You and Dr. Ratio I feel have similar interests. Like-minded individuals striving to know more about this dysfunctional world. High expectations, a sort of strive for the greater knowledge of the world. There are only a few who can stand on the same stage as you two.

It's almost a sort of rivalry. A small smirk that is passed with one grade is higher than the other, the glances while the other is presenting, the small inside jokes that are layered between sarcasm and logicality. If any one of your classmates were to explain this they would simply say genius' brains are on a different universe. It's not because of that.

Lets be honest. It's because of the sex,

❥ For the serious front that you both pertain in front of your colleagues, your neck itches from the tight blouse buttoned up to your neck. What’s wrong? Ratio states, it’s a question he already knows the answer to. Don’t want to show off my handiwork? Underneath thin cotton you hide a line of bite marks from the previous night, littered across your body in an arrangement of shapes. ❥ He gets this way when he is in a good mood. ❥ You give him a little push, enough to calm the faint tint across your cheeks. It’s hard not to think about last night. Reminiscent of strong muscles holding you down by the hips- bruises still forming-, his hands wrapped around your hair pulling gently to gain more access to your neck. The way you cried out for him last night and his muffled groans against your skin… ❥ No. You breathe in and out. It’s just a distraction from the presentation. Besides, if you both passed there would be a reward afterwards…Not that you have ever failed.

[dearanakin]

Bad Flirting - Steve Harrington x f!reader

Summary: Steve doesn't know how to flirt and he always tries too hard to make a move on girls. He's always hitting on you as a joke to see if it works out with the others and you usually make fun of his attempts.

Warning: Fluff, cursing and slangs, usage of the word f*g

Word count: 2.7k

💐💐💐💐💐💐

Steve was listening to some slow rock music at the Family Video, fixing a pile of new VHS that had just arrived. He was whistling to the sound, being extremely focused on not dropping the videos on the floor like he would almost always do.

Robin was on her break and it was starting to get dark when you left your work to grab a few movies to watch with your brother on the weekend.

You entered the place and the door made a ding sound, pulling Harrington out of his daydream.

He smiled, standing on the counter as he spoke. "To what do I owe the honor of seeing this shining, mind-blowing out of this world person in front of me?".

You chuckled, you figured he was trying to work on his flirting and making a move thing. He would always do that whenever you got there and never failed to work on his attempts. "You're still trying to hit on me?".

You rest both arms on the counter closer to him and he gives you a smirk. "Did it work?". He seemed pretty hopeful, his eyes were bright and his face showed you this happy look.

"Does it look like it work?", you ask him and he sighs. "Tell you what. If it works, you can take me on a date".

It caught him off guard, because you never showed any interest in him, even though it's not like you would never go out with him. He sort of laughed because it was weird for him to see you say something like that.

"Yeah, right. You know if I tell Robin that, she's gonna be laughing at me for like a week". He rubbed his hand across his silky hair.

"I'm being serious. Come on, what's wrong about that?". You weren't actually lying, and it would be nice to go out with him either way.

Steve shrugged his shoulders and offered you his pinky and you snorted. "You promise?". You nodded.

He only gave you his back to get the notebook and write down your renting for the day. You took that opportunity to also advise him to watch some movies as well, especially because he was still too ill-informed about movie stuff.

As soon as Robin got back on the counter, you crossed eyes and you started laughing. Both of you looked at the man who was grabbing the VHS's, who noticed the giggling. "You know that's bullying".

"Oh Steve, we all know it's only for the fun", Robin explained. "What did he say tonight?".

You tried mimicking him as you repeated his words and Buckley broke down into a laugh. Harrington stared at you two with a hurt look.

"Funny, very funny", he came back with the tapes and pushed them towards you while you were still giggling. "Now I don't want to go on a date with you anymore".

"Wait, what? Date?", she asked, confused. "Did he brainwash you with that sloppy flirting?". Steve flicked her ear and she kept laughing.

"No, I promised him that if it works one day, he can take me on a date", you explained. You gave him the money and he still looked like he was upset about the joke.

"And I said I don't want to anymore", Harrington mumbled. He gave you back your change, resting his lower back on the counter.

"C'mon, Stevie", Robin started, teasing him. "It will work, you just need to stop forcing it. Stop trying to look like you're Romeo".

"You know she's right. Just don't try too hard. Just let it come to you", you said, resting your hand above his. He pressed his soft fingers onto yours.

"Fuck it, you guys. Just go on a date already", Buckley stated, out of nowhere. "Just go out, eat some food, talk. You teach him about good movies", she emphasized. "You're friends, it's going to be fun!".

You and Steve crossed eyes, you smiled at him but he was sort of reluctant. You were friends for a while now but it was never awkward to be around him. Suddenly he feels like he can't stare at you for too long now, especially because he forced some mediocre flirting.

"Fine, I'll go. How about tomorrow?", he gave in. You nodded, holding the bag with the tapes and smiled. "I'll pick you up at 7 pm".

💐💐💐💐💐💐

You were almost finishing your makeup when Harrington arrived at your front door. Your brother was showering and he couldn't answer the door for you after you yelled his name a few times.

It took you only a minute to get downstairs, as you opened the door and his scent washed over your nostrils like a hurricane. Suddenly it made you feel weird about doing out with him, but you focused on trying to make it feel like just a date as a friend.

"You look like God's most... You know what? Forget it. You look really good", he tripped over his own words. He tried to replace his flirting with a compliment, and you chuckled.

"Thank you, Harrington. You look great too, and you smell amazing", you said as you headed to his car. He opened the door for you like a gentleman and waited for you to get in.

"It's my natural scent", he replied as he got in the driver's seat. "Shocking, right?".

"Unless your scent comes from a Calvin Klein bottle, not really", you say as you smile at him and turn on his radio.

He took you to a rollerblade rink place near downtown, where you could enjoy the food and try to have fun skating at the same time.

You and your friends would always go there whenever you had free time. Even though you were all applying for college, you'd still enjoy fun times together.

"You did good back there. See, you didn't need some awkward compliment", you say as you grab some fries. "Just try being funny, after all it's what us girls like".

He raised both eyebrows like he was really having a lesson there. "Yeah. I mean, I'm really terrible at that. Even though I've had hundreds of dates".

"I know, and that is what surprises me the most. You're always so weird when you try to make a move", you state. "Don't take it to heart, Steve. Sometimes you're just forcing into things when you don't need to".

He looked at you kinda amused by how you were willing to help him out getting to girls. After all, that's what friends are for. "Thank you, (Y/N). And you know I can also help you out with guys if you ever need to".

"Oh, no. Thanks but I'm all set with men. I've got a rotten finger for them". You respond as you pick on some of his onion rings. He doesn't want to feel bad for you but he does. You're a nice woman and smart, he always thought.

"Maybe you're not the issue. You know how we all are", Harrington stated. "We don't know how to take you for granted, I admit that. But I've learned a lot. Especially after I became friends with Rob".

"Yeah, she's great. And she looks like your mother. You may be 21 now but you still act like you never left middle school", you grinned and he rolled his eyes.

"What's the fun about being boring? I like to make jokes!", he defended himself while you were laughing. "I'll get more refill".

The date wasn't going bad so far. You never go out alone with Steve and you were worried you wouldn't be able to have a nice conversation with him, but there you were. And he was being gentle as always.

You were looking at the people while they were skating and didn't realize when a guy stood in front of you, smiling. You didn't say a word as you pretended he wasn't there, but he made sure to clear his throat before talking.

"Hey, you wanna go roller?", he asked as he rested one of his hands on your shoulder. You looked right into it and shrugged it off.

"No, thank you. I've got company". You tried to be nice and gave him a weak smile. You honestly hated when guys were invasive like that. "He went to grab some refill".

"Oh, you call Steve Fag Harrington company?", he chuckled ironically, and you stiffened. What the fuck was wrong with this dude?

"He's not a fag. Would you please just leave? I'm not in the mood for that crap". You asked as you tried to ignore his presence, but he was willingly trying to make you go roller with him.

"Come on, don't be like that. I know you want it". You rolled your eyes back into your skull.

"Did I stutter? I said no", you implied, staring at him. You were starting to get stressed because of him.

"She said no, man. No means no", you heard Steve from behind the guy. He was holding soda with both hands, staring at the guy with his brows furrowed.

This was turning into a shitshow. The guy turned around to look at Harrington and he laughed. "Just leave her alone", he said.

"Or what, fag?", oh. Things escalated so quickly, you barely had time to realized Steve had just thrown your sodas on him, pulling him by his collar.

"You call me that again and I'll break your fucking face", he threatened.

"You could never even throw a fucking punch, Harrington", the dude stared at him only a few inches from his face and you stood up, grabbing Steve by the arm.

"Well, yeah? Then try me", he was still gripping him by the collar and you intervened.

"Let him go, it's not worth it", you said as the guy smiled with sarcasm when he looked at you, but he didn't listen and punched the guy on his chin.

You heard Harrington proclaim a "fuck" under his breath, trying to pretend it didn't hurt. Steve still pushed the guy back and he stumbled on his feet.

He left and didn't even look behind him, laughing out loud about the situation. You were still kinda shocked.

"You okay?", he asked and you nodded. You didn't know if you grinned or not. You thought it was weird to see him act like that, he was always so soft. "Fuck, the sodas".

"It's alright, don't worry about it", you affirmed, but you were too focused on the bruises on his hand. "Holy shit, Steve, your knuckles"

"I know. God, this hurts so much", he complained as he made a scrunchy face out of the pain. "This guy used to be a pain in the ass back in school".

"Used to?", you laughed and he did the same thing. "Thank you for being my hero today".

"Always a pleasure", he responded as he tried to be smooth but his hands were still hurting.

"You see? That's why I said I was all set". You facepalmed.

"It's not your fault. You have better taste than that I believe". He was still holding his bruised hand when he grabbed yours, trying to comfort you.

💐💐💐💐💐💐

You were supposed to roller with him after eating, but that went to south when you decided it was better if you called it off and went back home to treat his injuries.

You offered yourself to clean the small bloody wounds and took the advantage to talk about movies with him like Robin said.

It came to your mind you could take this friendship further and actually go out with him and Robin, have fun and laugh it off as you were doing every time he would flip into the floor because he didn't coordination.

You were already listing your favorite action movies from the past year, making sure he was taking mental notes to watch them, when you arrived home.

You were also talking about nonsense music as the radio was blasting a Madonna song really loud by the speakers.

He turned it off when you arrived and looked at you, with a small grin on the side of his lips. His silky hair was falling into his forehead and you fixed it, while he followed your hand with his brown eyes.

He usually don't let people touch his hair and it's completely understandable, but you made sure it was only a stray of it. Harrington didn't know how it felt like to actually have butterflies on his stomach since he broke up with Nancy.

He's had a few dates where he would feel like he was melting down because they were either nice or too hot, or had their cleavage showing too much.

He didn't actually know if it was his brain playing a trick with him, but he let the feeling sink in either way. Your wrists still smelled floral like from your perfume and he could feel it filling up his nose. In the back of his mind it had a fruity note as well.

You got out of the car and he followed you. Your brother wasn't home so you didn't even bother to look for him anyway. You turned on the TV while looking for some ice.

"I'll just clean it up", he told you before getting into the bathroom as he washed off the blood from his knuckles. You were holding the ice pack while waiting for him.

Family Ties was on TV when he saw the show and sat on the couch, suddenly all caught up with it. "Hey, it's the Alex P. Keaton show!". You laughed at the way he said it.

"Yeah, Robin told me about the way you reacted to Back to the Future when it came out", you sat next to him and placed the ice pack on his hand, listening to him hissing over the pain.

"He was definitely trying to bang his mom and she was totally into it!", he stated and you laughed harder. "Fuck, that's cold", he cried.

You could see how his hand was shaking as his skin tried to adjust to the temperature.

"I'm sorry you hurt yourself and we had to call it off", you mumbled. It's not like it was your fault, you didn't just expect him to pull a macho man against the guy.

"Hey, it's not your fault, (Y/N). I told you already. And I've always wanted to kick his ass anyway".

"Yeah, but still", you said. "He ruined our night. But thank you for standing out for me".

"We can do that again, if you don't mind", he offered, smiling at you. God he was so sweet, it was hard to say no.

"Smooth. I like that".

You both spent a few seconds in silence, until you remembered something.

"You know Michael J. Fox? That guy?", you pointed to the TV and Steve agreed. "There's this movie that also came out recently. It's called Teen Wolf", you started.

💐💐💐💐💐💐

Steve was standing by your door before leaving. "How did I do?", he asked innocently. You chuckled at his question and he widened his eyes. "That bad?".

"No. Actually you don't ask this kind of question to a girl, but let's consider this a test, so you went good", you stated. He seemed relieved after your response.

You got closer so you could greet him goodbye on the cheek but you accidentally bumped your faces too hard. "Shit, sorry", he said, a little tense as you were still too close.

His cologne hit you and travelled your entire body and it made you shiver when you felt the smell of his shampoo at the same time. This is why you didn't like to stand too close to someone like that.

You've always found him attractive but not really like that, and it was weird to feel that way.

"Goodnight, Steve", you said under your breath, not really on purpose but he noticed it. And it was clear to him how that would go, but he didn't want to be too forward. Not with you, at least.

You grabbed his right cheek with your hand and placed a gentle kiss close to his mouth. He was definitely going to spend the entire night thinking about what just happened.

"Take care of your hand and don't go out there punching anyone", you smiled, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Duly noted", he said before giving you a kiss on your hand. "Good night!".

It made him realize maybe it wasn't about really flirting and trying to make a move on someone. Maybe it was just about being really himself and not try to be a Romeo like Robin said.

Robin, he thought. If it wasn't for her you would be staying home doing nothings like you always did. And he would be playing some stupid nerdy games with his friends.

[minnielvrr]

It's okay to run slower~

Lee: Minho Lers: Chan, Seungmin Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: @itzsana-kiddingmenow 👀Happy one year Sana💐🥳🎉🎊Thank you for making your blog and choosing to write, you're a gift to everyone in the kpop tickle community💞🩷💖Hope this can cheer you up even a tiny bit🤭🥰 I love you!!🤗🩷

It felt like an eternity since they’d started. Minho was certain that he’d run through the lyrics at least a million times and by now and his throat felt dry and sore. Why did their new songs have to have so many English parts?

After a fruitless recording session that left both him and Chan exhausted, the leader let him go, knowing that Minho needed some rest and he himself needed to cool down.

Chan watched through the glass as the younger straightened his clothes and fixed his hair, then stalked out. He looked ragged, all sunken cheeks and dark circles under his doe eyes.

Hours later when Chan arrived at the cuties dorm, he found a worried Seungmin standing in front of Minho’s room.

The younger startled when he spotted the older, but quickly beckoned him close. “Minho hyung was crying when he came back. Did something happen hyung?” The kitten in question was currently simmering in a pot of frustration and self-hatred in his room.

Chan guiltily explained the situation. “It’s not your fault hyung,” Seungmin said firmly, rubbing the leader’s back. “Let’s go talk to him.” Seungmin knocked on the door, the duo walking in once they heard a muffled ‘come in’.

Minho was face planting his bed, still dressed in his outside clothes. “Hey baby. Can I talk to you?”

Chan slowly turned him over, grimacing when he noticed the kitten’s eyes, feeling crushing guilt curl in his stomach at the redness in Lino’s eyes.

Minho nodded but stayed quiet, not quite looking at Chan yet. “Are you mad at me?” The leader’s voice broke towards the end.

That made the kitten look up at him in surprise, a hand coming up to cup Chan’s cheek. “I-I’m not hyung. I promise I’m not.”

He sat up on the bed, reaching out a hand to scratch at Chan’s scalp. The older leaned into the touch, letting out a sigh, tugging at Minho until he was on his lap and hugged him tight.

“I’m not mad at you hyungie. It’s just-I- I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to grasp the pronunciation as quickly as everyone else. I feel like I’m holding everyone back and- and like I’m wasting so much of your time because I can’t get it right.”

“You know I don’t mind that, love, you should take your time. We have to learn things at our own paces and you’re doing so well darling. You improved a ton over the last few months so don’t be so hard on yourself, yeah?”

Feeling a little playful he started rhythmically poking Minho’s torso, singing My Pace in a goofy voice.

“There's no need to rush, my pace~🎵 Don't compare yourself with others~ It's okay to run slower~ Just follow my lane, my lane🎶 Take it easy~ Just look ahead and run~🎵 You ready? Let's go!🎶”

It earned him some huffed out giggles, and rolling his eyes, Minho pushed him off. Chan hugged him tightly, clinging onto the kitten and squeezing at his sides as Minho tried to extract himself.

“Tryna run away? I’m not gonna let you~ You’re stuck with me allll night!” Chan threatened in a baby voice, littering more pokes all over Minho’s sides. “Hyuhuhuhung!”

The younger giggled, squirming around but not really fighting it. He buried his face in Chan’s shoulder and let it all out. The leader continued his ministrations, shutting his eyes and simply listening to the sweet sounds Minho made.

“Can you stop laughing? We’re having a serious conversation here! How rude!” Minho just cackled, unable to come up with any sort of retaliation.

“Ooh hyung’s being all soft and gross.” Seungmin chirped from behind them and although Chan had known he was there, he startled just as much as Minho.

“Shut up, you brat!” Nonetheless, the kitten was sporting a deep blush at being found out.

“Can you hold him down Channie hyung? I’m bored.” Seungmin’s hand wormed its way over to scribble at Minho’s side, weakening him as Chan wrestled his arms above his head and sat on them.

Seungmin straddled the older’s hips, leaning back with his hands on Minho’s thighs as he lazily looked him over. With a sudden grin he squeezed the spot, watching as the lee’s body jolted, sweet giggles spilling from his lips.

That’s when Chan began the teasing, wiggling his fingers in the younger’s face then quickly moving it to just barely graze over the kitten’s sides. Minho yelped, flinching away from the evil hand, Channie giggling in amusement at his reactions.

“Aww, you’re pretty cute like this hm? Guess all we needed to do was tickle you~” Seungmin’s condescending voice flustered him more than Minho expected.

Unable to come up with a sufficient retort, he was saved when Chan finally kneaded into his sides. “AH— Chahahahanihie hyuhuhung NAHAHAHAHA!!”

The squeal that tumbled from his lips before the giggles started was priceless and Channie couldn’t help but coo at him.

“It’s been forever since I’ve heard that laugh!” Chan sighed happily, fingers skittered up Minho’s sides to his armpits then back down to his upper ribs. Loud, joyful cackles filled the space, Minho’s face scrunching up with how much he was smiling.

He tried screaming loudly, over and over in the hopes that Chan would cringe away from the deafening sound but the leader seemed to have anticipated that, quickly drilling his thumb into the kitten’s exposed armpit.

His screams dissolved into wild belly laughs, Minho flopping around crazily as he tried to escape, almost throwing Seungmin off.

The puppy retaliated by gripping onto the older’s thighs and digging into the sides with the tips of his fingers, laughing along with Minho when the poor kitten went ballistic.

It was truly unfair that they were aiming for two of his worst spots at once. Seungmin was mean when he was the one doing the tickling, using all his accumulated knowledge on his victim to have them losing their minds.

On one side, his fingers dug into the sides of Minho’s things and squeezed while his free hand skittered lightly over the top and inner parts of his left thigh.

“KIHIHIM SEUNGMIN IHIHI WILL KIHILL YOU!!” He hollered through uncontrollable cackles but Seungmin only laughed at that, a soft tinkly sound.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to threaten me hyung. I could make this so much worse for you, you know…”

He pressed his nails in a little harsher and Minho screamed again, this time from the sheer ticklishness of the technique.

Apologies fell from his lips immediately but there was no going back. Seungmin was ruthless as a ler and Minho had just dug his grave.

Chan on the other hand was almost lazily tracing and swirling his fingers in Minho’s armpits, occasionally flitting down to land a quick scribble to his upper ribs.

Minho blushed when he made eye contact with the older, averting his eyes at the teasing look he got. Chan pouted at that, going a little harder in revenge.

How could his kitten not even look at him! It was unacceptable!

“Plehease, please I cahan’t, can’t take thihihis!”

“You're so cute like this, just a little bit more. I know you can take it, my little tickle toy.” Seungmin’s voice was a soft croon, with a cocky edge to it.

Minho died at that. He didn’t think he could ever feel normal again.

The name replayed over and over in his mind as they wrecked him. No amount of bucking or thrashing or pleading could get him out of this. But he didn’t really want this to end just yet anyway.

Then the duo switched spots. While Seungmin worked on his sides, Chan gently held the soft lobes of Minho’s ears between his thumb and index finger and rubbed at the skin, occasionally dipping downwards to flutter at his sensitive neck.

It seemed to work, with the kitten’s giggles going up in pitch immediately and his squirming turning to thrashing.

“OHOHO GOHOD! It tihihihickles, ihihit tihiHIHICKLES!! Chahannie hyuhung!”

“It’s supposed to baby.” Chan replied with a fond smile, watching his cute bunny lose himself to the tickles.

“Hmm?” Seungmin mused as he watched the exchange and without another word, he handed Chan a long white feather. Grinning at the fearful expression on Minho face, Chan began to wreak havoc on Minho’s ears and neck with the new weapon.

Bubbly giggles escaped his soft lips, squirming violently but Chanie was too strong. No matter what he did- be it throwing his head back or mouthing pleas to the older.

Chan only cooed at him, not letting up. “Hehehehe!!” Minho sounded like a child with the way he was laughing, his little sounds so soft and innocent.

Eventually they let up when Minho’s loud laughter had dissolved into mere wheezing and small huffs of airy giggles.

Chan gathered him back into his arms, cradling his boneless form while Seungmin ran to the kitchen to fetch some water.

“I’m so so proud of you darling,” Channie whispered softly into Lino’s ear and heard the kitten sigh in relief.

With a sudden tug, Minho pulled the oldest even closer, smothering him in a bear hug,” Thank you for always being so patient with me hyungie. I love you.”

Chan squealed internally, needing to take a moment to calm himself down.

“I love you too Linoya~”

[emetoflower]

My stomach bug story

Okay hi guys, I posted I was sick a few weeks ago and then logged out of my kink account. I felt weird taking photos/videos, because honestly despite the fact I have a fetish for all this, I do not enjoy experiencing it myself. In hindsight, I wish I had photos...anyways here is a story from part of my stomach bug ↴↴↴

It started with me waking up just feeling “off,” not quite having stomach issues yet, just feeling weird in general. I figured it was my anxiety because it's not unusual for me to feel that way early in the morning before work. I skipped my normal breakfast and just had one slice of toast to get me going. I got 40 minutes or so into my shift when the belly ache started up. It was like a nagging soreness for a bit, until I felt sort of a twist in the center of my gut which told me things were going to get serious. I wasn't sweating, I was feeling more hot and woozy in my arms and my face, while the pains in my tummy felt like they were sloshing and twirling around. I got this slimy, uncomfortable feeling in my throat right before I got sick. It's hard to explain the layout of my workplace, but we have a small office for employees to sit on breaks, and the boss’ office is adjacent to it. He has a security camera filming a live feed of it to his monitor at all times, so he was able to see me when I entered and sat down on the desk chair. This was the peak worst moment of it all, so it's harder to recall. I think I was sitting down, slouched over and rubbing my head, then my mouth filled with spit so I grabbed the trash can and threw up. It tasted and hurt so bad. The first wave was a big gush, followed by some burps because I burp quite a bit when I'm puking. I think I had 2 or 3 more little vomits before one more gush came out, ending that first episode. There were already some discarded papers at the bottom of the trash can, so the puke was soaking into those, and pooling at the bottom of the trash bag underneath them. It was a dark yellow, tan-ish color, with visible pieces of the rice and mushrooms from my risotto from the night before, which made me all the more nauseated to see. I'm not sure if my boss saw me on his camera or not but he could definitely hear it. He came out after, and basically just told me to double bag the trash and drop it in the bin outside, clock out, and feel better.  Luckily my commute is short. I was home pretty quick, and instantly changed out of my dress clothes and into pajamas. I secured a salad bowl from my kitchen to take to my bed with me, then got right under my blankets. My head was swirling with illness and anxiety as I lay down on my side, knees slightly bent and one arm tightly cradling my hurting stomach. I fell asleep for a little while.

[pennyserenade]

The Hollywood Hedonist Method

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, light dirty talk (a little degrading), sex in public place (?), soft dom!reader, soft dom!dieter tags: references to drugs, talk of suicide (not serious), a self pitying dieter bravo word count: 2.9k+ summary: dieter's movie is bad and he looks to you for a quick fix to a long problem. a/n: is this the most inspired piece i ever wrote? probably not but i did have a lot of fun writing it. i wouldn't say this is my usual writing style, but i'm trying something new on here and i hope you like it. if you'd like to be updated on when i post my writing, follow my writing updates blog @belovedinfidels

He fingers you on the black marble countertop, his mess of crushed ambitions transformed suddenly into a hardy joie de vivre as you accept his tongue into your mouth. Salacious stories be damned: this is better than any page six bullshit could cover, his strong body settled between your widened legs, his long fingers curled in the warm comforts of your body. He breathes you in, drinks you up. 

Your whiskey soaked tactlessness is divine tonight. It offers a heady respite from the impending dark cloud of his self doubt. He doesn’t even mind that you don’t realize how gloomy this shit makes him. He feels like one of those goddamn characters in Sunset Boulevard, switching between the dead bloodied man floating in the pool of his own ambition, and the frenzied, forgotten actress with the warm gun of delusion in her hands. He hates that he’s miserable over his fucking shitty movie, and he’s so hard it’s embarrassing, and a little confusing, and you’re beginning to squirm and he wonders if maybe his tongue might make you shake and—-

“Dieter!” 

You dig crescent shaped imprints on the pale, freckled skin of his shoulders. His tongue makes you shout–better than he could’ve ever hoped for. It’s the ego boost he needs. Plus, you’re so goddamn wet that it’s coating his chin and he’s only just got on his knees. That’s nice, too. 

He licks up to your swollen clit, tonguing it until you let out delightful little mewls and writhe beneath him. When you close your legs around his head, he lets out a moan. You taste like the closest thing to penitence he’ll ever get. He could eat your pussy all night if you let him. Really. There’s some things he knows for certain, some things even bad fucking movies and a deflating ego can’t rob him of, and his love for this is one of them. The act of spreading a woman apart and eating her like she’s ripe pickings from the Garden of Eden almost drives him to romanticism sometimes. He is sure he could write poetry about this. He bets your pussy’d look so pretty on a canvas. He’s never drawn a pussy from memory, but he’s gonna try it tomorrow and—

“Are you okay?” you rasp, looking down at him with a frown. 

Well, maybe it can rob me of this, he thinks bitterly. 

Your grip turns more forgiving in his hair, your fingers sympathetically pushing his locks back from his face. He comes up, his slick-glistened lips forming into what you suspect is meant to be a reassuring grin. It looks more like a grimace. You run a thumb affectionately over his cheek and he groans, pushing it off with his shoulder. He positions himself back between your legs. When you pull at his hair again, trying to get him to look at you, he winces sharply. 

“Dammit,” he mutters, dark eyes deep wells of glazed frustration. “If I don’t make you cum I’m going to jump out of the window,” he deadpans. 

You’ve always hated the kind of people who make you wonder what’s a joke and what’s not, because it’s a constant commotion of miscommunication. Life becomes a bad joke, a joke that is in constant need of explaining, and you’ve never liked that. Dieter is the sort that seems to be hanging on the edge of I don’t know, the kind who seems to be supplanting real answers for half funny, half serious ones. The uncertainty he posits is a product of the uncertainty he feels - you can tell already - but you’re not exactly enthused to decipher him for the rest of your life. 

You frown. You’d only met him under strobe lights not even two months ago, shouting over the music to get to know one another. He had tasted of stale cigarettes and early morning remorse, and he’d taken you in the women’s bathroom, pressed you against the bathroom stall, and fucked you with bruising intensity. Then he had written his number on the palm of your hand, and kissed you chastely on the mouth after it was all over. There’s no future here. You won’t be deciphering anything. 

“Sit on my face,” he implores. Dieter delivers the sentence like he’s asking you if he can hold your hand. His fingers grip at your thighs and his breath grazes the inside of your legs. When he presses his lips to the side of your cunt, you close your eyes against the sensation. He tongues the spot, laughing shakily as you ease underneath him. Your hips press forward and he takes it as acceptance. “Or don’t,” he says. His tongue teases at your lips, and you can hear the grin in his tone when he says, “I’ll eat you out like this. That’s just fine, too.” His tongue nudges into your opening and you gasp. Your hand finds his hair again. “But tell me you want it.” 

His lips press to the side of your pussy again. You gush involuntarily at the sound of a husky voice, at the way he hovers over you with the promise of more. 

“Mm.” You look down your body at him, making eye contact as he presses kisses closer and closer to your glistening clit. He nods his head at you, encouraging you as he begins twirling his tongue around the area. “Actors are so goddamn self absorbed,” you say. He nods wordlessly again, smiling against your skin. He doesn’t tongue your clit, though. You want him badly to take it into his mouth. To suck—

“Fuck, please,” you plead. “I want it.” 

His eyes glimmer. You feel his hot breath all over you, and can hardly stand the sensation of it. You want to ride his face, make him bring you to orgasm your own way. You nearly forget his sad, petulant attitude in your impatience. 

He takes your clit in his mouth, sucks eagerly as you stroke your nipple through the thin cotton of your dress. Dieter is greedy even in his giving, taking as much of you as you’ll let him. He enters a finger into you—a finger that goes in with an embarrassing ease—and then another when you moan lewdly into the enclosed air of this someone else’s bathroom. His face moves with your hips, letting you rock against the rhythm his own fingers set. You moan his name and he goes faster, and you feel on the brink of imploding. 

Your eyes close and you focus on his mouth, and the fury with which he works at your swollen clit, and you think of his fingers, and the way your cunt clenches around them, large as they are. As you cum against his mouth with an unapologetically guttural moan, he surprises you with the seriousness of his intent—how he does not look up at you or smirk against you, but works devoutly at building another orgasm up. You grip the edge of the sink and your head thuds against the mirror as it lolls back. The glass reverberates but neither of you care; your ass is gradually rising off the counter and his body is rising up, one of his legs kneeled on the ground and the other one hovering. He makes you cum again in a matter of seconds. 

In between your second and third orgasm, his belt buckle jingles open and he’s risen all the way up. He comes up for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and then he kisses you on the mouth. He’s wet with your juices down to his chin and he’s not afraid to spread the taste of you against your tongue. There’s a drop of pre-cum wetting the blue of his tight boxer shorts. You grab onto his jean loops and jostle him closer. He comes without protest. 

“You shouldn’t ask a man how he feels when he’s eating you out,” he tells you. His head is pressed against your chest and he’s looking down at himself, at the way his cock is strained in his boxers. He’s hard as hell. He looks back up at you with intense eyes. “It’s likely he feels pretty fucking good.” 

“Shut up,” you groan. You stuff your hand down the front of his open jeans and his neutrality fades into a smirk. His hips jerk as you palm him and he whimpers, desperate as ever. You fist his hair, driving his neck back so you can kiss along the column of his throat. “The movie wasn’t even that fucking bad,” you tell him. He laughs and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. You suck at the skin there. If he minds, he doesn’t say. His eye lashes flutter against his cheeks and he happily grinds against your hand. You think you could make him beg, if you wanted. You think maybe he wants to. 

You withdraw your touch suddenly and he whimpers, pupils blown wide with desire. He goes from confused to uncertain. “What?—“ 

“Ground,” you command. He nods curtly. 

He peels off his jeans and underwear on his way down to the cold, sterile tile, making no qualms about being bare ass naked on his employer’s bathroom floor. They are downstairs and they’re partying, and even if they weren’t he wouldn’t give a damn anyway. That’s the appeal of him, isn't it? It’s why the public buys the magazines and watches the movies he’s in. Dieter is a brilliant train wreck and they want to see. 

That movie they put him in was so goddamn commercial and so heartless, and so contrived. He hopes he gets cum on the black shower mat because of what they’ve done to him. 

“I’ve got no condom,” he tells you suddenly, remembering. This had been so spur of the moment. A hand on your knee under the table turned to a hand in your underwear and suddenly you were both up here. His face scrunches up, waiting for rejection. 

He supposes he could make do, maybe just ask you to talk to him while he masturbates this hard-on away. Are you into that sort of thing? He supposes it’s a little exhibitionist, and he knows that’s not everyone’s cup of tea but—

You don’t seem to give a shit. You straddle his hips and look down at him. You’re still a little loopy from your orgasms but confident in your approach-confident that he wants this badly as you think he does and goddamnit if you’re not right. He ought to be responsible and ask you the slew of questions responsible people ask before they bury their cocks into nice women such as yourself. Birth control? Have you fucked anyone else and do you think they might’ve given you something? When’s your birthday? Middle name? But he doesn’t. He breathes steadily beneath you, excited and so fucking worked up he’s afraid the first heavenly push into you might be the last one if you’re not careful with him. 

He doesn’t even know if you won’t tell the paps about this. Maybe you will. Maybe the price of this will be a magazine spread featuring a bad airport photo of him and the headline “DIETER BRAVO OUT OF CONTROL: L.A. FLING TELLS ALL.” And this L.A. fling will know all, will have everything to tell. In a matter of seconds he tries to decide what kind of person you are. He softens a bit, and you notice immediately, and that fresh Hollywood self pity is back and he softens some more.  

Before you can ask if he’s okay again, he heaves a telling sigh. “Too much or not enough drugs,” is his response. It was good while it lasted. What’s the worst that can tell them now? That he eats pussy to make up for his drug induced impotence on bad days? 

You look confused, maybe even a little wounded. No, you are wounded. He squeezes your hip as if to say “You did your best” and this hurt flashes more visibly across your face. Well. 

“Coward,” you tell him. His eyebrows raise to his hairline. 

“Hm?” he answers.  

You lean down, whisper it to him. “You’re a self pitying coward. It’s not the drugs. You’re making yourself miserable.”

“Listen—“ he starts indignantly, but you shake your head. Oddly, he’s getting stiff again. This has been the most embarrassing night of his whole fucking life—and perhaps the most telling. 

You look down between your bodies, pleased. “My theory was right.”

“Please,” he groans, “no more or I’m going to kill myself for real.” 

You laugh and it’s so genuine and that he laughs too, despite himself. You might be laughing at him for all he knows but it doesn’t feel like it. He decides once and for all, looking at you, watching you, that you won’t tell about this or about anything. If you wanted to, you would’ve already. And most importantly, he simply doesn’t want to believe you could be someone like that. He isn’t a coward. Not all the time. He takes a chance on you, here, now. 

“Are you on birth control?” he asks. You nod your head. “Have you been tested lately?” You nod your head again. He smiles. “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” 

You check yes — or at least he thinks. You kiss him tenderly, more tenderly than is good for him, and you both fall back into your hurried, lust riddled motions. You take his growing hard on in your hand and guide him into you. You lean your forehead on his and let him sheath himself inside of you. He goes slowly, wincing against the warmth of you squeezing around him. It feels so fucking good—dangerously good. He forgets about the stupid movie and the bosses down stairs and all that miserable shit about ruining their rugs.  

“Do you like it when I’m mean to you?” you whisper, once he’s fully inside. He looks at you, amused, and shrugs his shoulders. 

“I don’t know. Seems like it.”

“Do you think you’d like if…If I was controlling?”

He hums against your shoulder, bringing your body closer to his. “How so?” he asks. He begins guiding your hips, lifting you gently off his cock and slowly back down. 

“Make you beg,” you say quietly. “Maybe call you names, if you want. Maybe tell you how good you are when I think you’re good.”He twitches inside of you and you smile. He smiles too. 

“Actors are so self absorbed,” he jokes.

“Your movie wasn’t bad,” you assure again, more kindly. He doesn’t respond. He kisses the place between your neck and your shoulder. You quicken the pace that you ride him in and he nods gratefully, sighing softly. His knees draw up and you reposition slightly, feeling him more deeply inside of you as you grind back down into him. 

“Do you want to cum?” you ask him. You drive your hips up, gripping onto the hands he has on your hips, making him move in your slow, teasing pace once again. He bites at his bottom lip and doesn’t respond. You stop moving. He flashes his eyes up at you, annoyed and aroused and vaguely infatuated. “Of course,” he breathes out. 

“Tell me,” you taunt back. You resist when he tries to move you back down and he groans, but you feel him twitch in you again. 

“I know you want me to fuck you too,” he counters. 

“Sure,” you nod, “But remember: I’ve already cum three times and you’ve cum none. I think I can withhold far longer than you.”

He can’t help but smirk. That’s not good enough for you. You want him far gone for you, incoherent practically. You rise off his cock completely and he lurches forward, groaning. “No!” he says. “I want to cum!” he says, pawing at you. “Please!”

You hover over his glistening cock and pout. “Didn’t seem like it,” you taunt, moving your hips over him but not touching. His lips part but no words come out. “I want it to seem like it. You’re a big boy, Bravo and you can use your words, can’t you? I hate a man who can’t use his words—who’s afraid to.” You lean down, close to his ear. “I hate a coward.” 

“I—I can use my words,” he stutters. His fingers brush against your hips. “Please, just climb back on me and keep riding me. I—I need that.”

“Tell me.” 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “I need it so bad.” 

You grab his cock, stroke it lazily. “Again,” you say. His face twists up in what could be either pleasure or pain and he says, “Please. I need it. Need you.” 

He’s as hard and desperate as he was before. You kiss him hard on the mouth and allow him to take over again, guiding you down onto him this time. He flips you over, lays you down against the ground, and drives into you. You gasp and he smiles like he’s won a prize. 

“Can I—“ he fills you to the hilt. “—is it alright if I…Can I cum in you?”

You nod your head. He looks at you and you understand he wants more than just a nod. “Yes,” you answer. 

It doesn’t take much more than that. He gathers up your legs, drives into you with one or two more inspired thrusts, and then he’s growing rigid against your body, hot spurts of his cum filling you. He exhales softly into your neck. You think he might apologize for a moment but he doesn’t. Instead he thanks you. 

“Feel better?” you ask. He nods. 

“Much,” he says. “Hell—I might really be starting to think that the movie wasn’t so bad.” When he looks at you, you can tell he’s kidding. 

“Well,” you joke back, “At least even the bad movies get you fucked, huh?”