#maybe ill actually finish it faster than i thought

[soivinn]

Finally working on that holidays stuff :3

[rathayibacter]

Ask meme: Death, The Tower Reversed, Nine of Swords

[ask game here]

going off the beaten path, nice! ill try and do em justice lol

Death: Talk about an idea you’d love to make that no-one would expect from you.

this ones real tricky cuz i feel like my output is really eclectic. ive got some weird ideas in the books (like a collection of parallel-history card games, or a game-riddle that you can only play twice) but i dont know how many of them would be surprising coming from me, yknow? maybe the zine about how to run a Tarrasque would, given my noted.... disdain for dnd, but that wouldnt even really be about dnd yknow?

The Tower: Talk about about a game you tried to make that crashed and burned. Reversed: Talk about a game you were surprised didn't crash and burn.

ill do both of these! i had a game years back (pretty sure inspired by a Prokopetz post) called Party Planners, where youre a high-level adventuring party who spends more of their time throwing galas and managing your reputation as heroes and adventurers than you do actually saving the world. the idea was you had to meticulously schedule everything with a diegetic calendar, so you could make sure to attend all your rivals' events, set up your own, and fit in some adventuring on the side. new dungeons would pop up periodically and everyone would scramble to explore them first for the best loot and biggest bragging rights, but can you afford to do that when the same weekend youve gotta accept an honorary diploma from the wizard school? sadly the concept never got anywhere past "god thatd be really funny" despite trying to make little prototypes several times. i did wind up using a pared-down version of the calendar mechanic in Unskilled Labor though, so thats neat!

and for the flipside, BXLLET! i think ive told this story before, but i had BXLLET 95% done on my hard drive for three months before i finished and released it, because for some reason i was really struggling to get it to a place i was happy with and didnt wanna look at it. if it werent for my friends' passion about it, i dont know that i would have released it at all! which is such a weird thought now that its undeniably my most successful game, lmao. just goes to show, perfectionism's the enemy! reject its vile promises and put yourself out there, flawed and vulnerable, and let the chips fall where they may!

and hmm. nine of swords is usually associated with doubts and anxiety, which i kinda covered in the tower reversed, so lets take a slightly different spin on it

Nine of Swords: What's something you don't think you'll ever master, or that you struggle with every time?

working on large, long-term projects is definitely a struggle for me. ive been getting better at it, im happy with how KATABASIS is coming along even if i wish i could put out releases faster, but i definitely long to be one of those folks who can disappear for a few months and come back with 300 pages yknow? as it is i tend to juggle a couple projects at once, and then switch between them as the mood strikes or as i get blocked on something, and that helps me get things done but doesnt really lend itself to working on A Magnum Opus yknow

on a much more minor note, i wanna get better at worldbuilding around food. i cook! a lot! im pretty good at it! and yet for some reason whenever i sit down to write about food it doesnt come out right lmao

[dreamwatch]

For the wip game, Prison Fic pls! 💜

Thank you @hbyrde36 for the ask! I haven’t touched this in a while, so I decided to move onto another part of it. And because of that I kind of got carried away! I’m just going to put everything I wrote today because it’s a complete thing so makes sense. I really enjoy sharing my bits of writing and I don’t have anything finished so it feels like being in an echo chamber sometimes.

📝

Dear Steve

Of all the letters I’ve received I have to admit yours was the most surprising. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I swear. I just didn’t think you’d ever write. I guess I didn’t think we’d ever talk to one another ever again. I know you were in court, I saw you a couple of times. I can’t believe you were there, I’m really grateful for it. I’m sorry it was all a waste of your time though.

To your question… You’re right, I can’t be open with the kids, at all. I don’t want them to know what it’s like here. They’ve been through so much, and honestly Steven (yes, I called you Steven, let me have some fun) I want them to forget about me. They’re so awesome, and so kind, and I know it’s not going to happen overnight because they’re stubborn shits, but yeah that was the hope. Hopper tore me a new one, though. So as you know I’m answering their letters now, but it’s really hard being upbeat and coming up with things to tell them that aren’t hard. They’ll stop writing eventually though. I think of them growing up, going to college, getting married! Imagine Henderson married?! Jesus Christ, isn’t that fucking scary? They’re so smart, they’re going to have such great lives. At least I know that much.

So yeah. You saying that you’ll listen to the things I can’t tell them? Shit man, I don’t think you know what you’re letting yourself in for. But given we’re never going to see each other again, what the fuck right? Like what’s the worst thing that’s going to happen here? You’ll stop writing. And I wasn’t expecting you to write in the first place.

I wrote all that yesterday. I had to stop because I just didn’t know how to put it in words. I still don’t I guess, but I have to try, right?

It sucks. I’m actually sitting here laughing, and my cellie is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, and maybe I am, but it sucks? Like, doesn’t touch the sides, you know? 

At first I was scared all the time. But eventually, faster than you’d think actually, you fall into the routine. It’s all about routine. The time you get up, the time you eat, the time you work - yes, my first actual real paying job and it’s in prison, for fuck sake (for pennies, by the way, I’m not living the high life). I work in the laundry at the moment, I’m hoping to change that though. The old body isn’t coping too well, you know? I have a top bunk as well, which fucking blows, you should see me trying to climb up and down, I look like a drunk octogenarian. Yes, the guy who had 3 goes at senior year and still didn’t graduate knows big words. Fuck you.

Mail is monitored, I know you know that, so I won’t say anything too much about other inmates. Some are cool. Some are not. There’s this saying, don’t trouble trouble unless trouble troubles you. That’s what it’s like here, mostly. Like, there’s a lot of dangerous people here, and they’re all innocent by the way, there’s no point in saying you’re innocent, no one listens because everyone is. But yeah, people try and keep a lid on their shit and mind their own business, although that doesn’t alway happen. I took a beating soon after I got here. I thought it was because they recognised me, but it was because I kept the block up a few too many times, nightmares, you know? So yeah, I try and stay awake as much as I can and catch some sleep during the day. 

Mostly I think about how this is it now. That every day will be the same for the rest of my life. There’s a part of the infirmary for old geezers and terminally ill inmates. People who don’t have long. Sometimes they get lucky, they have families and they can get moved to a hospital for the last week or so. Mostly they don’t. I keep thinking how that will be me someday. And it makes me think that I wish that night in the UD had gone differently. That those things had finished the fucking job. Instead I have to countdown to it slowly. I think about how old I’ll be, how long I might live. To my 60s? 70s? Wayne told me that his Pa lived to be 87. I hope shit like that doesn’t get passed down through families.

I’ve probably put you off ever writing back. But I want to thank you for asking and giving me a chance to just say this shit, to put it down somewhere, even if it ends up in the trash. I can’t be honest with Wayne, because he worries something awful. So I have to be careful with him just like I’m careful with the kids. I’m grateful for you letting me not have to be careful with you. And I promise that I won’t be mad if you don’t write back. I’m not expecting you to. That you did once means a lot, truly.

I have a favour to ask, and it’s not fair of me but I’m so desperate. If you get a chance, would you check on Wayne for me every once in a while? I’m scared what will happen to him on his own, he’s getting old you know? And fuck if you do see him don’t say I said that. Man’s a stubborn old goat, he’ll tell you he doesn’t need anything, but he’s a fucking liar. His right knee is fucked and his back has been giving him problems for years, and he takes pills for his heart. And he’s been so fucking stressed with me, and I’m scared he’ll just keel over. And I won’t be there. That’s the thing that terrifies me the most, that he needs me and I won’t be there.

In case you don’t write back, and I wouldn’t blame you, I swear it, then I want to thank you. We didn’t really get to know each other but I meant what I said. You’re a good dude Steve Harrington. I hope all the people in your life know that.

Eddie

[simplytombstone]

sobland oc, ill loredump a bit below

so, Waker was interested in all things occult (or whatever is closest to that concept in sobland anyway) and was completely convinced that something more (something malicious?) was hidden somewhere and he was determined to find it. why? probably just to scratch his curiosity, or maybe to prove a point (mordred did not share his same enthusiasm on this topic)

he was correct that something was hidden, though he didnt realise that what he was searching for was a deserted wasteland, rather than the cursed realm he was probably imagining. plus that the greater spirit that he had researched in ancient writings and imagery was, in fact, dead, and would not be able to grant him any wishes or gift him divine knowledge or anything like that (plus it wouldn't have been able to do that even if it were alive)

also, Waker was Mordred's best friend, though later on their friendship was strained due to Waker's increasing paranoia/dedication and superstition (also a bit of unrequited love)

he lacked direction in life, and dedicated every moment trying to find out how to get to this realm (that he named Telo). theres some gaps here because i havent quite worked all the kinks out, but to wrap it up he does actually manage to find an entrance, and convinces mordred to come with him (again, likely to prove a point)

Waker, upon finally stepping into this realm he had so tirelessly searched for, was left with absolutely nothing. an empty wasteland with an endless ocean, nothing living that he could see asides from the Mother Occulent tree (which intrigued him at first, but she refused to speak or interact at all with the two, so she was proved useless to him)

Mordred, proved wrong, was actually pretty happy with this discovery because well, he was standing in an alternate realm! thats cool, even if he previously didnt believe it existed, but he still wasn't very moved with this new information (and that probably landed some blows to Waker's ego)

defeated, waker and mordred gathered some fruit and started to head back. their entrance was high up in the sky and they had only brought a rickety rope ladder. you can probably see where this is going. right as mordred barely makes it to the top, the ladder breaks and waker falls

mordred just continues the way he came (though faster and more panicked) and never turns back. why he did this, who knows! maybe he thought he was in danger, maybe he didnt realise waker had fell, maybe he just wanted out as fast as possible and he didnt care if waker followed, i dont know. waker was "missing" from that day forward and only mordred (and one other oc coming soon..) knows what happened to him

now, the atmosphere of telo is harsh for full-natural beings like waker, and in the years that he spent there, surviving solely off of occulent fruit and whatever liquid even makes up the ocean around telo, his mind and body obviously couldn't go unchanged. physically he became "immortal" as in he cant age anymore, just like the semi-natural beings (ie. occulent trees) and also he went crazy, sure, but thats obvious i didnt need to say that for anyone to assume as much

the mother occulent tree started talking to him at this point (not that its clear if he can even understand what shes saying anymore). shes not too fond of him (she pities him more than anything) and really only sees him as some kind pet that she didnt want in the first place

theres a bit more but ill explain it once i make the other oc thats necessary to finish wakers story off

[booze-hats]

Commute Anxiety (1/1)

Problem Sleuth's car was quiet for the first few minutes. While he was sure he'd regret feeling uncomfortable in the silence the very minute that Slick stopped brooding for long enough to open his mouth, for the time being, he found himself incredibly ill at ease. He wasn't sure what to say. He knew where he was going, small talk about the weather didn't work with Spades, and any other casual conversation about work was well out of the question. That last one was for his sake, he wasn't sure he should open that can of worms.

He didn't actually know if this was a good idea. If this was a trap, he was trapped-trapped now. He figured he wouldn't have a mobster-provided gun in his coat if that were the case, but truth be told, he didn't know if it was loaded and he did know that Spades Slick was a faster shot than he was. Those few blocks of silence, Sleuth was sure, would finish eating his stomach from the inside before he figured out what the right course of action was.

Was there a right course of action? Is there such thing as a good opener with Spades fucking Slick?

"You hear me over there, princess?"

Slick's voice startled him back into reality. His eyes cut from the road in front of him to his passenger. "No, I was driving. Say it again."

"I said the place's busier at night. Drive 'n listen, damn it. I think at worst there's like eight of 'em. Can you handle that?"

"Eight's a few..."

"Ain't like I expected you to demand to go at it with me alone. I figured you'd take your little gang and clean it all up easy, but no," Slick huffed. It made Sleuth roll his eyes and snicker. The unreasonable expectations set for him and his friends, it comforted him. Double the men and undoubtedly more guns, and Spades Slick still thought they'd be able to wipe them out of the warehouse.

He spared another glance to his right, where Slick was staring out the window. If Sleuth didn't know better, he'd think that the guy's scowl had softened up just a little bit, that maybe his face had softened up into something more neutral, less... Filled with hate. He's a handsome man when he's not growling in a guy's face, even his neutrality is rough around the edges. Sleuth wondered for a second, maybe because he caught the corners of his own lips pulling up in something other than contempt, what Spades Slick looked like with a regular smile on his face. "Tall order, but I think we can take 'em."

"I can. Dunno about you."

<==

==>

FIRST

[freshjjindahouse]

Metamorphosis thoughts

I'm gonna start posting my thoughts about the books I read on here more than on Goodreads, simply because I feel like they get lost in the void way faster on there. Anyways, I just finished reading Metamorphosis by Kafka and boy do I have thoughts on it.

The funny thing is that I actually started reading it a couple years ago, when my cousins' husband told me that a good way to practice my Portuguese skills is to read something in Portuguese, letting me borrow his copy of the story. I started reading it... and then quickly gave up. Unfortunately being able to speak a language and read a language were more different than I thought.

Nonetheless, I've been back in a reading kick and figured I'd give it another go, in English, this time, and yeah, I got through it a lot faster.

I found the story's exploration of isolation to be really, really compelling. Especially in the face of illness and/or disability, which, yes, is what I interpreted the metamorphosis of the MC, Samsa, to be or to at least represent.

It was interesting to see the MC go from having genuine hope that his family would learn to accept him post-transformation, trying his best to fight against his insect urges and retain as much humanity as he could, only to, over time, realize that his family was not going to accept him, resenting them for it, and giving into his new identity. I don't know if interesting is the appropriate word, though... if anything it was really heartbreaking.

Like, he really did believe that his family would eventually come to accept him, they were just struggling with the initial shock of it all, only to slowly realize how marred by shame they had become because of who he now was. Even his sister, despite showing more kindness than most, eventually became corrupted by her parents' attitude. The MC, eventually realizing that no one wants to acknowledge his existence, quickly rebels, insisting that his presence be remembered. Refusing to hide for the sake of others' comfort, he even goes as far as leaving his room when there are guests present who don't know about his current state. A bold move for a giant cockroach.

But it did really get me thinking about the ways in which people react to ostracization in real life. In a society that can hold so much shame in regards to those who are different, insisting that they remain unseen, whether it be physically so (by making it hard for them to access public spaces), figuratively so (by suppressing their representation in fiction), or legally so (by straight up ignoring their needs/issues when laws are passed), it isn't surprising that those individuals might look for ways to make themselves seen. Even if it's in a controversial or outlandish way. An aggressive cry of "Hey, idiots! Look at me!", while also containing an underlying plea to be genuinely considered and acknowledged.

Heck, even on a smaller scale, I think about some of the ways in which "troublemaker kids" sometimes behave. My cousin used to have a lot of behavioral issues due to having both autism and ADHD (and maybe some overly permissive parenting but let's not get into that). People would avoid him because of those behaviors, and the isolation he felt drove him to even more outlandish behaviors, because to him, being seen in a negative light was was better than not being seen at all. This attitude, of course, backfired and resulted in him having to switch schools more than once. He's since mellowed out, now having more self-awareness about his feelings. But then again, the only reason he was able to "mellow out" is because there were still some people who made an effort to understand him even after all that time. Samsa never got that, only increasingly aggressive expressions of rejection every time he tried to reach out. Eventually, he succumbed to the loneliness and depression of his situation, the novel ending with his death and unfortunately, but, unsurprisingly, his family's relief.

[ryssabrin]

the thing that's so frustrating to me about the way the writing for the female characters has gone downhill in jjk ever since perfect preparation is that it would take very little effort and time for gege to expand on the women to make them so much more multi-dimensional and satisfying.

with yuki, he could have expanded on how she chose to not merge with tengen (if that is how that played out), and how her actions are partially driven by guilt because if she had merged, kenjaku wouldn't be able to enact their plans. it would play into her telling choso to live "as a human" because that's the choice that she herself made. it would give her death more meaning because even though she refused to sacrifice herself to tengen, she will still defend humanity and the world she believes in with her life. i don't know if that's what gege was going for with her and maybe we'll still see more of yuki who knows, but that wouldn't have taken all that much panel space esp when so much was devoted to choso's feelings towards kenjaku.

with hana, there is ever so slightly something there about her growing up in an analogue for an abusive, neglectful home. i find it interesting that gege wrote her as fixating specifically on shiro's tail as the thing that led her away. it immediately drew to my mind the story about a sinner climbing their way out of hell on a spider's thread, idk why. the metaphor doesn't really fit (it's more about people believing the only way to salvation is to deny others the same path) but the imagery is similar. and there's potentially a point about how when people are only shown hatred and abuse, they will fixate on a single shred of kindness shown to them (often from the same person who is abusing them even), and so it's not unreasonable for hana to fixate on megumi despite his very minimal involvement in her life. but all of this is inferred! i have no way of knowing that's what gege was going for. he seems interested in narratives about how different people deal with abuse, esp children, but her character was barely elaborated on. would have been more tragic if that was her whole deal and that it ended up being her downfall because sukuna used it against her, but as it stands it seems like it was just a crush.

and then tsumiki. the entire pay off of her character is to reveal she's been possessed the whole time so megumi can have a breakdown and sukuna can make his move. that's it. does she get to have agency? nope! i was in such denial over it because i was fully expecting the tsumiki twist and there were so many reasons why tsumiki might turn out to be not what megumi thought as an awakened sorcerer and how that would shake his entire world. the sleeping beauty damsel in distress waking up and informing the noble hero, "no thanks actually, i wanna be a powerful sorcerer and fuck up a death game" is a much better subversion than what we got. again, maybe gege will do something interesting with yorozu but i don't know what he could do to paper over the botched tsumiki reveal. at this point i'm going full tin foil and i think that's actually what he originally intended but it would have taken a couple of extra chapters to get right and he wants to finish the series faster so he cut it and replaced her with an incarnated sorcerer. i feel like there's enough set up where it would have worked and made sense but he just. didn't do it.

and even though i love perfect preparation and maki, gege still could have spent more time on mai and their mother. i know he was even more rushed and in ill health at the time so i'll give him some grace, but that arc would have been just that much stronger if we got a little time from mai's perspective and how she's given up on the zen'in clan and understands maki's position more or from their mom's perspective and how she failed her daughters but chooses to make it up to them in her final act and supports maki's actions because she always understood how wrong the clan was even though she participated in it. all of that is just under the surface in the arc and wouldn't have taken that much more time to pull out.

i don't even know what to say about nobara. i keep thinking she has to come back in some way at this point because why be so coy about it for so long? but again was she just a casualty of gege wanting to finish the story faster? she was originally going to play a bigger role but got cut for time? was maki just always gege's female lead and he was never attached to nobara anyways? who knows!

like there's so much i love about jjk as a story and its themes that i have to step back and realize that a lot of it is projected. but it doesn't have to be! it's just a shame that gege wants to get the story done quickly so badly that these little elements get tossed aside.

anyways. just had to rant a lil bit. i do still love jjk and i think what gege does with the rest of the story is still very good and i have high hopes for how he will end it. it's still very fun to read along every week and i would still very much recommend it. (and honestly tbh maki's arc alone for a shounen series is pretty fucking great and it even deals explicitly with misogyny and patriarchy in a quite frankly radical way and that's really fucking cool!) just kinda sucks that there's this one little aspect of it that falls short you know?

[yourfavoritewerewolf]

update on this one: finished the front panel, halfway done making the squares for the back, started on both sleeves to make sure i kept the increases at the same rate. the panels are connected granny squares and the sleeves are granny stripes started from the ribbing going up to the shoulder. ill add the rest of the ribbing once the panels are joined. its gonna be cropped bc i cant be bothered to make ten more squares on top of the 28 ive already done (one square is actually 2 triangles i did so the neckline has shaping in the front). i also made it a sweater instead of a cardigan because i thought it was faster to do 2 more squares thsn to do more ribbing (i was right)

all in all im using less yarn than i thought so ill maybe make another christmas themed thing........ but will probably just add them all to my scrap pile to add to the marled knit chaos cardigan

i let my adhd win and started on my christmas crochet granny square cardigan before even finishing the back panel on the other cardigan

in my defense this one will finish up faster bc the crochet has huge gaps

[accovers]

Never leaving us

Yandere human fnaf (security breach) with Fem Reader

Trying to catch her breath, Y/N made sure no one had followed her. She never wanted to work at the pizza plex, in fact she had tried to quit. But the company kept on shoving her contract down her throat. Claiming that “If you quit we will sue you” bla bla bla. At this point she would rather be in a legal case than being chased by crazed animatronics. “Super star, why won't you come out, are you mad at us?” Freddy cooed. Covering her mouth Y/N prayed that the Freddy wouldn't think to look underneath the table. “Come on. You don't want me to get the others, do you?” Sated Freddy with a motherly voice. Still not moving Freddy finally seemed to give up as he exited the small room. Smiling in relief, Y/N quickly crawled out of her hiding space and pulled out her phone that was connected to the security system. Flipping through the cameras she noticed that Freddy was heading towards the opposite side of the pizza plex, away from the exit. Taking a deep breath Y/N quietly left the room, deciding to take the underground route considering it was faster Y/N trudged forward.

 Y/N crawled through the vents, wincing at the loud noise her knees made as they made contact with the hollow metal. Spotting the main group, Y/N stopped and peered out of the small window. “I couldn't find her anywhere” Freddy wined. “Well, did you check under the tables?” Monty asked. Freddy shook his head no. “You stupid bear. Do you know what, since all of you do such a horrible job at catching princess than ill do it myself” Monty growled. “Speak of the devil she's right up there” said Roxane as gestured towards the vent. Becoming stiff, Y/N kept her eyes on the group. “Perfect.” Monty purred as he licked his lips. Quickly Y/N crawled through the vents trying to make it before Monty. Finally Y/N managed to tumble out of the vents. Looking around, Y/N spotted a medic station and decided it was the best place to hide. Hearing loud footsteps, Y/N prayed that Monty wouldn't think to look at the medic station. “Ugh! She’s not here.” Monty yelled in frustration. Suddenly a second voice spoke “Hey wait up! So did you get-” Before Chica could finish her sentence Monty interrupted her “Are you blind? Of course I haven't caught her yet!” Growled Monty. Chica rolled her eyes as she made her way towards the other exit  “well maybe she went to the other exit” Huffing Monty followed.

“So close” Y/N whispered to herself “I just have the main stage to pass” suddenly she heard a voice near the exit “I know you’re here pup, just come out”. ‘Just great, now I have to find a way to distract Roxane,’ Y/N thought to herself as she looked around. Finally spotting some paint cans Y/N knocked them over and crouched behind one of the many statues. Roxy sniffed the air and slowly made her way towards the noise. Y/N ran as fast as she could to the exit, not caring that the sound fast footsteps following her were getting closer. Fumbling with her keys as she ran,growing closer and closer, until she reached it. Turning the key in the lock, Trying to pull the glass door open. It wouldn't budge. She tried pulling it again. Still nothing. Laughter came from behind her “You can’t possibly think were that dumb doll”. Everything faded to black.

A high pitched ringing filled the girl's ears, as she heard voices. “I think you hit her too hard, Monty.” “At least I was actually able to catch her you stupid bear” “shh she's waking up”. Y/N slowly opened her eyes. “About time” Roxy stated, the others nodded in agreement. “Where the hell am I” Y/N asked. “Your home, well you new home” Chica stated happily. Y/N sweat dropped “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Freddy smiled “Nope this is your new forever home. But don't worry we'll take good care of you and over time you might be allowed to roam around the pizza plex at night. Doesn't that sound Great super star!” Before Y/N could respond she was interrupted by Monty “It's almost show time, so you might as well just take a nap” Roxy placed duck tape on Y/N’s mouth and kissed her on the head. “We’ll  see you soon darling, don't try anything.” with that the four of them left.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 || dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right?

word count: 10.3k (yes, OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS OF FILTH what is wrong with me)

warnings: noncon smut (incl. anal, oral m and f receiving, dp, and spitroasting), bondage/restraint (and a gag), some mild violence, lots of slapping, pussy spanking, forced orgasms, degradation/derogatory language, kinda kidnapping, a touch of stockholm syndrome?, very brief breeding kink, period-typical sexism (this is set in the late 60s but you wouldn't really be able to tell aside from that and the lack of technology)

a/n: the song that plays on the radio, and the song that just so happens to be the title of the fic, is by john lee hooker in case anyone wants the proverbial vibes

You needed a chance to clear your head every once in a while, that's what camping in the woods was for.  It was the perfect time of year for it, too; the leaves were changing, the woodland animals were beginning to prepare for hibernation, and the weather was almost warm with a refreshing breeze that promised to bring the winter chill soon enough.

It was far from your first time in these woods, you knew the drive like the back of your hand by now, just as well as you knew how to hike down to the best places to set up camp.  

You set down your pack and took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air.  No sounds except for the wind in the trees, the trickle of the creek, and your own thoughts which you found pleasantly blank.  You'd chosen a spot by the creek, where you could spearfish on evenings that you felt especially adventurous, with a nice dirt patch perfect for a fire.  The most dangerous thing about camping in the fall was that the dry leaves could catch flame so easily, so one of the key stages of setting up camp was raking away any foliage from your firepit, lest it become unintentional kindling.

The next order of business was finding a few dozen smooth stones to surround the fire, along with some logs and sticks to burn.  

A knife and flint was just enough to speed up your firebuilding so that you had something solid going by nightfall, shedding your jacket to better feel the warmth as the flames grew and the sun set.

Sure, the woods could feel a little… creepy, at night, for lack of a better word, but it was more tranquil than anything.  Most of the wildlife that was so active during the day stilled and silenced, bar the occasional owl’s hoot, so the loudest sounds were the crackling of your fire and the ever-present trickle of the creek.  You heated your kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, something to help you get to sleep on the admittedly uncomfortable sleeping bag in your canvas tent.

The mug warmed your fingers as you filled and held it, and the steam warmed your face as you took a sip; but the contents warmed your chest, and your soul, as you contemplated the flavors; is it possible that tea tastes better when enjoyed in the quiet woods, mid-autumn?

You were already yawning by the time the mug was finished, so you set it aside and crawled into your tent, shedding the excessive layers and slipping between the fluffy down-stuffed layers of your bedroll.  It was chilly at first but you knew your body heat would make it toasty all too soon, so you ignored the way you shivered as you fluffed your pillow and laid it under your head.

It was dark with only the fading light of your fire seeping in through the thick-weave canvas; and it was quiet, being the middle of the forest and all.  One sound you didn’t expect were distant sirens, barely audible, which made you wonder if something had happened, but you couldn't know what so you didn't pay it much mind as you drifted to sleep.

The next morning came early, of course; as early as the sun rose, warm sunlight flooding through the canvas of your tent.

You enjoyed staying in the bed for a while, not so much because it was very comfortable (it wasn’t) but just because you wanted to relish having no need to get up yet.  No job, no cleaning, no chores… though you were pretty hungry so that inspired you to get up and see about breakfast.

Slipping on a few more layers to protect yourself from the morning breeze, you opened your tent and stepped out into the woods, finding your fire had been reduced to a pile of embers meaning that you would need to find more wood to get it going for breakfast-cooking purposes.  And that’s what you were about to do when you heard a snapping of twigs echo through the woods, making you glance up to the source of the noise.

Your back straightened instantly at the sight of two men, one with short blonde hair and the other’s dark and nearly to his shoulders, walking down the hill nearby just across the creek.  They were still pretty distant, and yet they were much too close for comfort; close enough to see that these were not men one would want to encounter while alone in the woods.

They had new clothes— baggy and loose, almost certainly stolen— but it wasn’t enough to hide where they must’ve come from.  They might as well have still been in jumpsuits with numbers on their chests.

The prison, just over five miles away.  Had they really hiked this far?  You kicked yourself now for ignoring the sirens last night.

You froze as they turned and caught your gaze, the three of you locked in a stare for a brief moment before one of them took a step forward: that was all the cause you needed to run like hell, turning on your heel and starting so fast you nearly slipped on the leaves beneath you.  You heard them call out, chasing after you, but you focused on staring ahead and trying to remember the path back home, or at least to the road where someone might drive by to help you.

A root nearly caught your foot but you kept running, hating that you could hear them gaining on you since it didn’t actually seem to help you run any faster.  You looked back and saw them much too close for comfort, but when you looked back ahead it was too late to avoid the tree right in front of you; you swerved but it still made you slip and almost fall.

But you didn’t fall.  Someone caught you, and grabbed you, and pulled you into his oppressive form.

His arms held you painfully tight as his hand covered your mouth.  "Gotcha," the man growled against your ear, licking the shell of it as you struggled against his grip.  

Everything everyone had told you about why a lady shouldn’t camp alone in the woods suddenly flashed in your mind, your eyes squinting shut as you wished you had listened.  All you could do now was kick wildly, swinging your legs in the air which didn't even do anything.

"Pretty little thing, aren't ya?” he purred as you saw the second man come into view— the blonde one, so you knew it was the one with long, dark hair that must’ve been holding you, giving you such a twisted compliment.  “Just beggin' to be fucked right."

"Don't look so scared, sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you…” the blonde man explained, “just play nice and we will too."

"Speak for yourself, Rogers," the man holding you snarled.  "Been a long time since I got to feel a pussy, I wanna tear this little bitch up."

You sobbed and writhed as the one apparently called Rogers hushed you soothingly, trying to calm you.  "Hey, just do what we say and it won't hurt alright?  Just take it easy."

He stepped closer, reaching out towards you while you grunted and whined with every kick, smiling in a way that would’ve been soothing in nearly any other situation.  He motioned to his partner who slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, and though your instinct was to scream you just heard yourself panting and whimpering instead.

“Did you hear me?  We’re not gonna hurt you.  We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet… I’m Steve, and this here is my cellmate— uh, friend— Barnes.”

“But you can call me Bucky, dollface,” the man behind you added with a little smile that you could hear and feel with him pressing up so close to your face.

“See, he and I just came from an awful, terrible place—”

“I know where you came from,” you cut him off with a snarl.  “You’re criminals!  You’re scum!”

Bucky just laughed and held you tighter until your arms started to ache from struggling against him.  

“Hey now, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve corrected firmly— not angry, but stern.  “I was framed, I served seven years for something I didn’t do.  You’re innocent, too, right Barnes?”

“No,” he instantly answered, making Steve look disappointed.  “Oh, uh, sure.  Yeah, I was framed.  Real sob story,” he suddenly decided, not sounding like he was trying that hard to convince you.

“Point is, we were all alone for a long, long time, and we thought maybe you’d wanna be nice and take care of us, huh?” Steve offered.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Bucky whispered playfully.

“Let me go,” you demanded as Steve’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, anger finally coming out when he suddenly grabbed your chin and held your face to look up at him.

“Let me make one thing very fucking clear,” he explained, nearly whispering so you were forced to stay still and quiet to hear him.  “You don’t get to pick what you want.  But you get to pick if you’re gonna make this easy, or difficult.”

You spat in his face; he slapped you for that, so hard that your ears rang for a moment while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Difficult it is,” he announced with ill-restrained loathing, coming even closer as Bucky covered your mouth again to muffle your screams of protest.  “Buck, I’m goin’ first.”

“Fuck you, pal, I was in longer and I saw her first,” Bucky replied frustratedly.  “I’m not gonna take long anyway, you can go after me.”

“I just got spit in my face!” Steve reminded him.  “And the breakout was my idea!”

“Your idea?!” Bucky repeated incredulously.  “What, you think you’re the first guy to think ‘hey, what if we just left prison?’ because trust me, if it wasn’t for my screwdriver—”

Their argument caused Bucky’s focus to slip, that must have been why the hand on your mouth loosened and you could speak again.

"You won't get away with this, my father's a sheriff!" you yelped, interrupting their negotiation.

They both laughed darkly and you instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, sweetheart, your old man's a cop?  That's too bad,” Steve sighed.  “You know what they say: sins of the father…"

"Fuck the daughter,” Bucky finished with a cold, hollow laugh as he suddenly bit down on your ear making you wince and shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks already.

He tossed you down and pinned you to the ground, his strong, heavy body on top of yours knocking the wind out of you as he began to tear at your clothes and, annoyingly, not seeming to find them much trouble at all.  You whimpered when you felt your pants torn down your legs, hating how exposed and vulnerable you felt, hating the undeniable fact that you couldn’t stop this.

You tried to get up when he reached down to open his belt and jeans, but Steve’s boot came down on your shoulder and held you still again.  Bucky was rushed and brutal as he pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against your ass, guiding it between your legs as you hissed and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

He pulled back briefly to spit on your hole, spreading the forced wetness with the head of his cock before suddenly pushing into you as you gasped and choked on a sob.

"Oh, that's it baby,” he groaned, “scream if you want, nobody can hear you but us."

Already he was thrusting with wild abandon, his hips slapping into your ass as his hot breath came down against your ear and neck, his face pressing yours into the cold ground.

"Fuuuuuck,” he moaned lowly, “so tight, Jesus Christ… fuckin' missed this, went almost ten years without burying my cock in a wet little cunt like this.  Shit, it's even better than I remember."

You just cried and bit down on nothing, pain making violent shivers run up your spine as the width of him split you open, pushing deeper than you’d known anything could go.

Each thrust seemed somehow rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you further past your limits, making your toes curl inside your boots.  He was unabashedly using your body, treating you with less care than some men might a blow-up doll, moaning loudly as he split you open with every moment.

So why did it almost begin to feel good, now that the worst of the pain had faded?  Why was the ridge of his cock brushing over your g-spot just right each time he moved?

He pinned more of his weight on you as he changed his angle slightly, enough to add just that much more brutality to every stroke, the loud slapping of skin echoing through the desolate trees.  You could tell he wasn’t lying about how long he’d been celibate in prison, because he fucked you with every ounce of pent-up frustration, hissing through his teeth and holding you tight enough to bruise.

Everything he did, he did enough to bruise.

“Yeah, take it, bitch,” he moaned when you made a particularly pained noise.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take long,” Steve remembered, staring down at the two of you from where he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.  

“I’m almost done, you waited this long you can wait five more minutes,” Bucky dismissed, voice a little strained as he kept fucking you.

“Just stop and give me a turn and then you can get back to it,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, no fuckin’ way,” Bucky laughed, “feels way too good to stop.  Trust me, Stevie, this pussy’s worth the wait.”

“Get her on her knees then,” Steve instructed as he came closer to you and kneeled in front of your face; Bucky manhandled your hips into place while Steve pulled your hair until you yelped and brought your head up.  “I wanna fuck this pretty little throat.”

He cut off your protests with another hard slap to your cheek, tugging your hair again as you struggled to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

“Gonna teach this mouthy bitch a lesson,” he explained as he hit you again before using one hand to open his belt and jeans.  “You know what’s gonna happen if you try to bite me, right?  I’ll just knock you out and fuck your throat anyways.  So you’d better make it good if you wanna breathe.”

You tried your best to nod with his fist tugging your hair, gasping slightly when he pulled his cock out and stroked it right in front of your face.  

“Come on, baby, open up— this is the most you’ve kept your mouth shut all day,” he laughed, tapping the swollen head of his cock on your lips until you finally opened them.  The flavor of his skin on your tongue made your lips curl in disgust but he held your jaw and pushed deeper, quickly hitting the back of your throat.  “Fuck, so warm… come on, suck it, make it good for me.”

“She’s gettin’ wet,” Bucky informed Steve with a chuckle.  “She likes it— don’t you, little whore?” he prompted as he slapped your ass suddenly, making you cry out around Steve’s length.  “You like choking on a cock like you deserve?”

You made some sort of gurgling sound, and apparently they took it as a ‘yes.’

"Aw yeah, fuck, gonna fill up this little cunt,” Bucky promised.  Funny thing is, you weren't sure if "this little cunt" meant your hole, or you.

“You’d better not, m’supposed to go after you,” Steve reminded him.

“Fuck, I dunno if I have the heart to pull out,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, slapping you on the ass to make your walls suddenly clench around him.  “I know a sweet body like this just needs to be bred.”

Your sob was louder around where Steve’s girth stretched your lips, making Bucky laugh darkly.

"Oh shit honey, what would Daddy Sherriff say if he found out you got knocked up by a couple'a criminals, huh?  By murderers?"

Steve pulled his cock out just enough to let you sob weakly before shoving back in and penetrating your throat.

"Yeah, you like it don't you?” Bucky continued to taunt you.  “You like being bred by some strangers who caught you in the woods… dirty bitch."

Steve's head fell back as he started to thrust into your mouth faster and harder, the base of his cock flexing against your tongue.  You assumed it was a sign that he was close and it made you hopeful that this would be over soon, but he suddenly pulled out with an exhausted laugh.

"Oh no you don't," he breathed, "not gonna come yet, still need to feel that tight little pussy of yours… if Bucky would hurry the fuck up."

"Fuck, I'm close, I'm close," Bucky rasped.  "Shit, babydoll, this wet cunt is gonna make me come, aren't you so proud?"

Steve held your mouth open and rubbed his cock on your tongue, occasionally shoving two fingers in with it which were salty with his sweat. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Bucky hissed, "oh god, fuck, I'm—!"

He pulled out suddenly, rubbing his cock against your clit as his seed shot onto the ground beneath you.  You sighed with relief although you hated the way your body was actually disappointed, craving more and clenching around nothing in protest.

Bucky was hardly even finished when Steve reached under your arms to pull you up and flip you onto your back, groaning as he settled between your legs and rubbed his cock over your folds.  He didn't waste any time pushing into you, and apparently being fucked by Bucky wasn't enough to warm you up for Steve because you hissed at the sting as he filled you.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down beside your head.  Already he had begun to pull back only to spear into you again, reaching deeper inside you than Bucky had until you were gasping and choking on nothing.

Bucky stood up and stepped back, pulling his jeans up as he watched you two on the ground.

"You got any cigarettes back at camp, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and it was hard to focus on his question but you shook your head.  "Damn," he breathed, pondering for a moment before coming up with his next question.  "You got any candy bars?"

"Do you mind?" Steve hissed, still thrusting into you— a bit slower than Bucky but not exactly more gentle.  "We're kind of busy here."

"No, I don't particularly mind," Bucky smirked.

"Can't you just entertain yourself for a few minutes while I finish this?"

"Why should I entertain myself when I've got this pretty little thing to entertain me?" Bucky smirked, kneeling down beside you as Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck.  "Wanna help me out here, dollface?  I'm still hard…"

He freed one hand from Steve's grip and brought it up to the front of his jeans so you could feel the hard bulge there.  He opened them for you, reaching in and pulling his hard cock out to wrap your hand around it.

Feeling the thickness of it in your palm now, you couldn't imagine how it ever fit inside you.

"Yeah, that's it, I'll teach you how to stroke it right…" he groaned.  "You know how many times I had to do this to myself, just imagining claiming a little slut like you?  Your hands are so much softer, sweetheart…"

His hand tightened around yours and guided every movement, which was good because you had no chance of focusing on anything while Steve was slamming into you and moaning right by your ear.

"So wet," he whispered to you, "so warm.  All mine…"

You felt your insides grip him harder and he smiled, lips tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, you like bein' mine.  You like being owned, I can feel it.  I can feel that this is exactly what you needed.  Is that what you were hoping for when you came out to these woods all by yourself?  That a big strong man would show up and stretch out this pussy?  Well I'm here now, angel, and I'm just about ready to fill you up real good."

A few more thrusts, faster and harder than ever, were enough to send Steve over the edge as you felt each pulse warm you from the inside out.  Steve groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, painting his come right onto your cervix while you gasped at the sensation.

Bucky stopped moving your hand and looked down at Steve.  "Are you fucking serious— did you just come inside?"

Steve took a moment to catch his breath before answering: "duh."

"How come you get to come inside but I don't, huh?"

"Cause I went second!"

"Yeah, that's some bullshit," Bucky scoffed.

"Will you just leave now, please?" you whimpered weakly from the ground.  "You got what you wanted, now just go."

"Oh, sweetheart, we are nowhere near done with you," Steve promised, sighing as he pulled out of you slowly.

You wanted to try to get up, but your limbs were weak and numb, and your head heavy with confusion.  It made it easy for Bucky to scoop you up and carry you back the way you'd run, your tent quickly coming into view which made you realize how pitifully short your chase had been.

“Looks big enough for the three of us,” Steve noted as he tilted his head to look at your camp.

“We’re not going in yet, I think somebody needs a little creek bath first,” Bucky smiled as he started to set you down on your shaky legs.  “Go ahead and strip, doll.”

You shivered, considering resistance but deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble as you started to peel off your shirt and jacket, then your boots and slightly torn leggings.

They both smiled and watched you, Bucky snorted a little when he saw how hard your nipples were.  “It’s chilly,” you defended meekly.

“Sure it is,” he nodded, “don’t stop, get in the water when you’re done.”

You nodded slightly as you tossed the clothes aside, trying to cover yourself with your arms as you slowly walked into the stony creek, wishing the water weren’t so clear so it would cover you better.

You made a weak attempt to clean yourself, watching goosebumps cover your skin from the cool water.

"Wash yourself up good,” Bucky instructed firmly.  “I don't want any of Rogers' jizz still in you when I take that pussy again."

With a grimace, you washed between your legs and winced when your touch reawakened the sting of soreness there.

“You’re gonna have to push it out, honey, it’s real deep,” Steve grinned pridefully.

You did your best to clean up, not for Bucky’s benefit but for your own, because you hated how it felt to have Steve’s spend still within you.

“How am I supposed to dry off?” you asked nervously as you looked around, knowing you hadn’t brought a towel as you hadn’t really planned on a full creek bath during your trip.  You hadn’t planned on any of this during your trip, shockingly enough.

“You can drip dry,” Steve suggested.

“So you want me to stand naked in the cold for an hour while I dry?” you realized, irritated but still scared.

“Something like that,” Bucky confirmed.  “Unless you want us to keep you warm…”

“I’ll freeze,” you decided, stepping out of the water as Bucky snatched your clothes away to make sure you couldn’t dress.  “Gimme those!”

“Come and get ‘em,” he challenged, leaving you to huff and cross your arms, teeth chattering as the wind picked up.

You couldn’t imagine why they cared so much about testing your will when they’d already proven that they could take you however they wanted.  Perhaps it was just that they wanted to know you’d accepted that.  Better yet, they probably hoped you would participate willingly if you understood that you never had a choice.

Closing your eyes didn’t help, you could still feel their hungry gaze on you; rubbing yourself with your hands didn’t help because it just spread the cold water around on your skin, rather than actually warming you up.

It was probably less than a minute but it felt like half an hour before you relented, walking up to Bucky and looking down to avoid his stare as you meekly requested, “can I have my clothes, please?”

“But I can think of so many better ways to keep you warm,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, Steve moving behind you to press his chest against your back.  You sighed with relief because even this was already making you feel better,  the warmth of their bodies taking out some of the chill while their size blocked you from the wind.  You mewled, ever so quietly, when you felt Bucky’s lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as your head fell back onto Steve’s chest.  

They showered you in gentle touches and teasing kisses as they picked you up and carried you into your tent, the small space beginning to warm quickly with the heat of three people inside— or was it just you that was getting hot from what they were doing to you.

Steve was groping your tits and pinching your hardened nipples, while Bucky focused most on sucking your neck or biting just beneath your ear.  It was overwhelming, and impossible to ignore though you wanted so desperately not to be aroused.  There were only four hands exploring your body but it might as well have been a hundred because you couldn’t tell the difference, they were touching you everywhere all at once.

"Now, are you gonna behave or do we need to tie you up?" Steve asked quietly.

You shook your head wildly, tensing up just imagining that.  "Then say it," he instructed.

"I-I'll be good," you promised weakly.

Bucky grinned and slid his hand up your thigh, and though you didn’t mean to, when Bucky reached between your legs you tried to shut them and squirm away, it was instinct.

"Ah ah ah," Steve tutted.  "You said you'd be good."

"Think we oughta tie her up," Bucky nodded, feigning disappointment.

"No, please, I'm sorry—"

"Too late for sorry, dollface," Bucky smirked, grabbing a shirt from your pack and tearing it into strips like it was no effort at all.  

Steve held your wrists together for Bucky to tie, and they even tied your legs up bent and spread wide, finishing it off with a gag in your mouth.

Now you were helpless to Bucky pinching your clit, circling it with his thick and calloused finger, applying pressure to it until your eyes watered.  At first it was exploratory, delicate, but once he’d found the most sensitive places he began to rub your clit hard and fast, laughing every time you moaned and flicking the sensitive bud to make your body jolt.

"Yeah, this little cunt's getting all wet, y'like having your pussy played with?" he smirked.

He accentuated his question with a few sudden spanks to your clit that made you jerk and yelp.  The worst thing was that each slap made a wet sound that made you sure you were soaking by now.

“I know you want it so bad, don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna make you wait anymore…”

He caged you in and opened his jeans one more time, the process going much more quickly since he didn’t have to hold you down— you could squirm and cry, but that was about it.  

With a little grunt, he pushed into you, and with how wet you were it actually went it much more easily.  It was by no means painless though, especially since he was already moving and giving you no time to adjust.

"Yeah, that's better," he sighed, grinning as he watched you whine into the gag.  "Now I can really take my time with you, show you how good I can make you feel."

He was certainly more relaxed than the first time, his pace measured and calculated as he made sure his hips met with yours fully at the end of each stroke.  His width wasn’t as challenging in this position but his length certainly was, bumping into your sore and delicate cervix until you were forced to bite down onto the gag to cope.

But, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, something deep and strong was forming inside you, tightening and twisting until it took all your effort not to let it spill forth.

He reached down and roughly rubbed your clit again, forcing a muffled scream from your throat as he grinned down at you.  “Close already, huh?  Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.”

You almost heard Steve scoff beside you, but it was hard to hear anything when your ears felt like they were full of cotton, only your own echoing heartbeat ringing louder than anything else.

"Yeah, I wanna feel you fuckin' come,” Bucky growled.  “Bet you get even tighter every time."

As much as you wished not to, you fell over the edge, back arching until your chest bumped into Bucky’s where he hovered above you.  He coaxed you along in his words and movements, your walls clenching in a nonsensical rhythm.  More than anything you just wished he would stop moving so you could catch your breath, but his pace never faltered and it felt like you’d never stop coming if he never stopped fucking you.

“That’s it, good fucking girl,” he groaned, “makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I?  Answer me.”

You hesitated, and sniffled, but finally nodded.

Even worse, your clit was so swollen now that he didn’t even need to rub it with his thumb anymore; his cock rubbed against it with each movement, the ridges of his shaft massaging you there until it felt like every part of your body had become the most sensitive place possible.  You shook violently beneath him, each wave of pleasure stronger than the last until you felt like you had lost all sense of time, and space, and really anything that wasn’t being fucked in this tent like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Get outta the tent, Steve,” Bucky instructed suddenly.

"Why?" Steve protested with a scoff.

"I can't come with you starin' at me!"

"I'm not looking at you, dumbass,” he sneered, “I'm lookin’ at her.  So pretty when she cries…"

"Whatever, either way, just go outside please?" 

Clearly irritated but relenting anyways, Steve grunted under his breath as he got up, stepping unceremoniously over both of you.  Bucky sighed with relief when Steve zipped the tent flap shut behind him, turning his attention back to you.  “That’s better, isn’t it?  Just me and you… way it oughta be.”

“I heard that!” Steve called from outside.

“Then stop listening!” Bucky suggested through his teeth before leaning down to whisper in your ear, holding your hips tight so he could fuck you harder than ever.  "I don't give a fuck what he says, I'm coming in you this time.  Not pulling out until I know every drop is in you, wanna see this pussy stuffed to the brim with my come… you want it too, huh?”

Another electrifying pulse inside you made your channel flutter around him, and how cruel that the moan he made actually turned you on more.

"Fuck, that's it, squeeze my fuckin' dick, honey.  Wanna milk all the come outta my cock, don't you?"

You nodded again, hearing him moan in that perfect way one more time before you started to feel him pulse and swell within you, streams of hot come pouring into you.  The amount was pretty impressive since he’d already come once, although you didn’t exactly feel ‘impressed,’ so much as horrified and confused.  And numb, from coming so many times.

Bucky smiled down at you with an exhausted sigh, smacking you lightly on the face a few times to try to rouse you from your blissed-out state, but all you could do was hum sleepily into the gag.

“M’gonna untie you now, you’re too out of it to try anything,” he explained, releasing the gag first before working on your wrists and your legs.  A rush of warm come oozed out of your abused hole when he pulled back, making your face heat up as he smiled and held your legs up to see it better.  “Yeah, filled you up real nice,” he informed you.  He gave a reassuring pat to your thigh before getting up and getting out of the tent, leaving you to stare blankly into nothingness for a while.

Eventually, you knew you had to face the world again, though you were more sure than ever that you weren’t prepared for it.  Grabbing a blanket from the floor of the tent and covering yourself with it, you took a slow breath to try to stabilize yourself.

For how slow time seemed to have passed so far, you were surprised to see the sun setting when you opened the tent flap and stepped outside.  You realized, with a sick feeling in your chest, that they had been using you nearly all day now.  And considering they were waiting for you around the fire, giving you a glance up and down as you emerged from the tent, they still might not stop for a while.

In fact, they’d made themselves very comfortable from the looks of it.  The fire was burning stronger than ever, three logs positioned around the sides of the firepit to sit on; a pot was over the fire, and you recognized the contents as some of the food supplies from your pack.  Best of all, Steve had found your battery radio and adjusted the station, blues quietly playing from the speaker as he used your hunting knife to whittle a stick.

Serves you right to suffer, the smooth voice crooned from the broadcast, serves you right to be alone...

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence as you took in the scene.  But when the wind changed and the heat of the fire no longer reached you, you remembered you had business to attend to.  

“C-Can I have my clothes back now?” you asked Bucky quietly, seeing them draped over the side of one of the logs.

“I think if you get dressed you’ll try to run again,” Steve mumbled, not even looking up at you.

“No, I won’t, I’m too tired,” you explained.  “I just don’t want to be cold.”

“Fire’s hot enough,” Bucky dismissed.  “Why don’t you just lay down a while, hm?  Get some rest.  You earned it.”

You weren’t just tired physically, but mentally, which is partly why you didn’t put up more of a fight before going over to the log and laying beside it, the blanket around you protecting you from the cold ground while you used your clothes as a sort of pillow on the log.

It couldn’t have been that you were asleep, because you could still hear the fire and the radio and Steve’s whittling (a constant reminder that he had a knife), but with your eyes closed and the darkness getting darker it was almost like sleep.  A draining, restless sleep that did nothing to shelter you from the memories of what you’d become.

So, you opened your eyes, staring into the flames instead and venturing the occasional glance at Bucky or Steve; the former always met your stare, the latter would only look up if a sound got his attention.

“You gonna take a turn?” Bucky asked Steve casually, motioning to you by cocking his head.

“Not yet, need a while to... you know, build up some energy,” Steve explained.

“Mind if I have another go then?”

“She’s all yours,” Steve approved, making Bucky grin as he got up and circled the log you were slumped over.  

“Y’hear that, dollface?  All mine,” he cooed, picking you up and adjusting you until you were bent over the log, facing Steve and the fire.  Your clothes kept your naked torso from rubbing against the bark, thankfully, but nothing could spare you from Bucky’s incessant touch, running up your back, over your butt which he spanked a few times for good measure, and finally to your entrance which he pushed two fingers into first.  “Mm, we stretched you out pretty good… you’ll be back in shape by the mornin’, but until then, I just slide right in…”

And he proved himself right with one long stroke that pushed his cock to the deepest parts of you, pushing your hips forward into the log as you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

He was uniquely quiet this time, still moaning and grunting occasionally but otherwise sparing you from the constant taunts and filthy whispers.  Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to look unaffected, but the subtle adjustment of his legs along with the increased vigor of his carving made it clear he was distracted by the sight in front of him.

Bucky’s strong hands on your hips were sure to leave marks, fingertips digging into your curves and pulling you back onto him, spearing you on his length.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed, “gonna come.”

And it was actually a relief because this was going to end (for now), which was definitely the only reason you moaned in response.  He got more talkative after that, smacking you on the ass a few more times as he chuckled darkly behind you. 

“Fuck, take it, doll… take all my fuckin’ come.”

It was sort of a meaningless instruction, since you had to, but he seemed to enjoy reminding you that he was about to take his pleasure from your body one more time.  He made a weak little moaning noise, almost pained, as he filled you once again, slumping down on top of you and for the first time really showing signs of exhaustion after coming three times in a day.  You were so out of it that you hardly noticed his weight on you, or the little kisses he gave to your ear, whispering praises that tried your best not to hear.  

He pulled out and came back around to look at your face again, pulling you up slightly by your hair so you looked up at him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned.  “Open your mouth sweetheart,” he instructed, spitting onto your tongue as soon as you’d done it, then lifting your jaw to make you close your mouth and swallow.

He tugged your hair harder before he kissed you, more possessive than affectionate, but unexpected regardless.  His tongue tangled with yours as he reached down to circle his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse but not going so far as to choke you.

A little groan from Steve caught both his attention and yours.  "You wanna fuck her, Stevie?"

"Oh god, I want that ass, I want that fuckin ass," he answered through his teeth, making you gulp as Bucky laughed.

"Go for it, man," he encouraged, and only a second after he stood up you both heard and felt Steve appear behind you, one calloused hand spreading your cheeks; you whimpered from embarrassment when you felt a finger circle your tight rim, before slowly pushing in.

"Fuck," you whispered, and it sounded much more like a curse of pleasure than you intended.

"Yeah, you want it don't you?" he asked through his teeth, giving you a hard spank that made you cry out.  Bucky slapped you when you didn't answer, grabbing your jaw roughly.

"He asked you a question," he reminded you firmly, the sound of Steve spitting into his hand and coating your hole and his length distracting you slightly.

"Yes, yes, I want it!" you sobbed.

"Where?"

"In my ass!"

Your body put up significant resistance against his swollen head, but it was no match for his rough thrust forward, the tip of him popping inside and stretching you painfully.  You bit your lip but it was impossible to stay quiet when he slid the rest of the way in.

You cried out as he moaned with satisfaction, already moving so much faster than you could handle (which, to be fair, was a low bar).

"Oh my god," he breathed.  "So fuckin' tight…"

The pain was sharp, and it felt like the base of his cock was impossibly thicker than the rest of him since you whined every time he pushed in.

"Aw, does it hurt baby?  That's my cock ruining your little hole, sweetheart…"

"Stop," you rasped, "please… please stop…"

"Nah, I think you like it… I think what you really needed was just to be put in your place, fucked in every hole so you know exactly what you're meant for."

Bucky appeared in front of you again, stroking himself in front of your face, still slick from behind inside you.

"See what a mess you made on my cock, dollface?  I think you need to help me clean it up," he groaned, holding your jaw open to stuff his cock into your mouth and stifle your sobs.  The taste of your and his come was potent and musky on your tongue, his head pushing right into your open throat when you tried to gag.

Steve held you tighter as he thrusted a bit more vigorously, Bucky simultaneously using your throat as he stroked your hair and cheek.  

You couldn’t remember how to do anything but just take it now.  At times their paces synchronized and you felt like you were being filled to the brim at both ends.  Other times they were in a syncopation where one pushed in just as the other pulled out, meaning you had no real breaks at all.

Bucky was too weak to come again, that much was obvious, but he was happy to choke you anyways; and Steve, well, Steve was moaning more now than he had from your mouth or pussy, apparently trying to hold himself back even though he had no reason to try to prolong this— unless he actually wanted to see you in pain more than he wanted to finish?

“You want me to come in your ass?” Steve interrogated you with a spank to your thigh.  “Beg for it.”

You shook your head around the length in your mouth.

“It doesn’t stop until you beg me for it, isn’t that what you want?  You want it to stop, right?”

Had you really fallen into his trap that easily?  

Bucky pulled back to give you the opportunity to meet Steve’s request, and you sucked in a lungful of air before finally whimpering: “Please, Steve… please come…”

“Where?” he pressed, ever-determined to make you remind him where he was fucking you.

“Please come in my ass…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he snickered before starting to thrust faster and more erratically, chasing his peak which you prayed was close.  It was, thankfully, though never close enough, and you forgot that the swell of his pulsating cock would stretch your tired hole even wider.

And, you forgot that he had no reason to pull out just because he’d come.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “that was good.”

You tried to kick him away but it was impossible with how hard he’d pinned you down to the log.

“Just stay still and keep my cock warm in this pretty ass of yours, alright?” he instructed, all the while Bucky stared down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, combing your hair a bit with his fingers.

“You’re tired, huh?” he noticed.  “We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“Will you leave?” you instantly returned.

“We need somewhere to make camp for the night, too.  And since there’s already a perfectly good camp right here…”

“No,” you whined, “no, you’re never gonna leave me alone, are you?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” he offered.

//

It was truly a testament to how physically exhausted you were that you managed to fall asleep squished between your two personal monsters.

Bucky was behind you, essentially spooning you while Steve had an arm draped over your chest.  And even with the heavy weight on you, physical and metaphysical, you would’ve slept through the night easily if it weren’t for the feeling of Steve running his hands over your body, groping you wherever he could reach.

You opened your eyes but it was still pitch darkness, giving you no distraction from the physical sensations of Steve's fingers delicately grazing over your skin.  Behind you, the quiet stability of Bucky’s breathing made it clear he was still asleep and unaware.

“Steve,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” he soothed below his breath, right by your ear.  “He sleeps like a rock, we’re not gonna wake him up with a little fooling around.”  

Amazingly enough, that wasn’t exactly what you were worried about.  But you discontinued your dissent as he lightly suckled the lobe of your ear, fingers tracing abstract shapes over your hip.  You heard your own breath catch, and he must have too because he smiled and nibbled on your neck.

You shivered when he started to pull you closer, laying you back to reach between your legs and toy with your overly-sensitive folds.  His fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow circles, making you writhe and jolt as shocks of pleasure shot through you.

“So sensitive,” he praised darkly, pushing against you harder.  “Gettin’ wet, honey?  Want you dripping before I put my cock in you.”

Bucky stirred beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep though Steve kept a strong hold on your lower half.  It was nearly claustrophobic being sandwiched between them like this, made even worse when Steve adjusted your hips and you felt his cock rub against you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear, cradling your face in his large, rough hands.

“I— I want it,” you whispered back, biting your lip to stay quiet when he pushed in.  You were still sore, but the wetness helped ease his way as he filled you to the brim, groaning softly and thrusting much more gently than you expected.  It was all very relaxed, and languid, and… sleepy.  It was so much easier to pretend that you wanted this when it was gentle and patient like this, when you couldn’t see his face

“You two got started without me?” Bucky interjected, making you both gasp.   

"You seemed pretty busy snoring over there," Steve explained with an unamused tone.  “You know, Barnes, I actually broke out of prison so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as you for the rest of my life.”

“Leave if you want, Rogers, I’ll keep the girl and you can take her battery radio, ya limpdick.”

“Limpdick?  Were you not here for the past twenty-four hours?” 

“Yeah, I was fucking this sweet little thing while you were out there by the fire doing your arts and crafts.”

And just like that, your sweet and gentle sex was gone; Steve was determined to claim you now, fucking you harder and faster until you couldn’t hold back your broken moans.  "Yeah, you like that?" he growled against your ear.  "You like gettin' fucked?  Say it."

"Y-yes, I like it," you gasped.

"We're gonna be on the run for a while…" Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder, "sure wouldn't mind takin' you with us, keeping our own little pet to fuck whenever we want."

You tried not to stop breathing entirely when he said that, distracted by Steve slowing down slightly, offering some reprieve.

"Been so long without touchin' a woman," Steve added huskily, "I don't know if one day is enough."

"Yeah, plus we've already got you obedient, trained, fucked braindead and full of come," Bucky replied, biting down on your skin to make you whimper and he chuckled happily.

"Are you sure you can share, Barnes?" Steve pressed.  "I know if you had it your way she'd be ripped to shreds by now."

"Whatever man, you're the one who tore her ass up."

Steve scoffed slightly, while Bucky continued.

"You wanna come with us sweetheart?  We'll be real good to you, keep your holes wet and full for a couple months straight at least.  You won't have to worry about a thing, won't have to lift a finger, just keep your legs spread and you'll be peachy."

"Hey, that's what we'll call you: Peach," Steve decided.  "It's perfect, isn't it?  'Cause you're sweet… and soft… and I could just eat you up," he purred.

"Wanna be our girl, Peach?" Bucky prompted.

"No, please…"

You expected anger, you expected them to hurt you, but you didn't expect them to laugh.  "Looks like our sweet little Peach hasn't had a chance to realize how good it's gonna be with us," Steve announced.  

"Yeah, let's show her how much she wants to be our girl," Bucky snickered, holding your hips as Steve started to move inside you again.

Bucky, meanwhile, was grabbing handfuls of your ass and groaning as he rubbed his cock against you.  One finger explored your rim and slowly pushed in.

"Looks like you're still a little loosened up from when Stevie here gave it to you, huh?  He was real mean, wasn't he?"

You nodded, clutching harder into Steve's chest as he fucked you faster.

"Then taking me should be a breeze."

Truly, you had no idea how this was possible.  I'm the dark it all felt like a fever dream, but when Bucky pushed into your available opening while Steve was still fucking you… it was definitely real, the feeling was too overwhelming not to be.

'A breeze' was definitely an exaggeration but it was undeniably easier, especially since being half-asleep made your body so much more relaxed.  You still hissed when Bucky's hips met your ass, you still choked on a breath at the feeling of two cocks buried all the way inside you, but it wasn't from pain as much as being full beyond your wildest dreams

"You were right about this ass, Rogers, goddamn…" Bucky moaned, holding your hips tight and beginning to thrust.

"Fuck, can hardly believe you're takin' both of us," Steve sighed against your ear.  "I know you love it, Peach, I know you love bein' so full…"

Your lips fumbled with the desire to moan a name but not sure whose to say; so instead you just babbled mindlessly, sounded just as dumbfounded as you felt.

But they weren't having any problems speaking, in fact they were more talkative than ever, each whispering in a different ear and making shivers crawl up your spine with every word.

"You're making us feel so good, such a good girl, aren't you Peachy baby?"

"Such a perfect fucking whore, so wet already just from being used."

"Want us to come inside, huh Peach?  Wanna be full of come?”

Each time you arched your back, it only somehow pushed them both deeper, so deep you couldn’t think about anything else anymore.  Bucky was moving at a much slower pace than Steve, such that they would only occasionally thrust all the way in at exactly the same time— and when they did, you heard yourself moan but refused to believe it was you making the sound because it sounded nothing like you, it didn’t even seem like something you would do; enjoying this that much, that is.

“You’re close, huh?  Gonna come for both of us?”

You found yourself nodding, even though they couldn’t see it, but Bucky must have felt it against his shoulder because he laughed a little, grabbing your face and turning you back to kiss you hungrily.  When he moved his kiss down to the back of your neck, Steve captured your lips instead, less dominating than Bucky’s but no less intense.  The moan that undeniably signalled your orgasm was nearly lost against Steve’s tongue, but they both heard it and began to pump into you faster, keeping you suspended in your pleasure.

Steve lost it first, spilling into you with a choked groan and a tight grip on your arms that was sure to bruise.  Bucky was close behind, panting with each hurried thrust until he finally moaned and filled your ass with ropes of hot come, a sensation you never could’ve imagined, let alone predicted you would experience twice in one day.

Bucky rubbed your thighs while he caught his breath while Steve peppered your face in tender kisses, both of them showering you in affection you had no idea how to handle.

“Whaddaya say, dollface?” Bucky prompted as he kissed just beneath your ear.  “Y’like bein’ our little Peach, don’t you?”

You stammered over a few different responses, none of them very good, until Steve finally instructed you: “say yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated instantly.

“I can tell you do, you soaked my cock real good,” Steve praised with a grin you could feel against your cheek and hear in his gravelly voice.  “We’ll head out in the morning, alright?  Soon we’ll be somewhere where nobody knows who we are, what we’ve done… doesn’t that sound nice, Peach?  A chance to start over?”

A fresh start never hurt anyone, right?

//

Months on the run made the night all blend together, you didn’t even know what state you were in anymore and you couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was definitely harder to hitchhike with three people, and a disturbing amount of truckers offered to take you alone but not your companions— and obviously they would never allow such a thing.  At this point, you were better off with the devils you knew, anyways.  At least with them you knew what to expect.

Specifically, you could expect Steve to be aloof and brooding until he occasionally snapped and became possessive over you again, asserting his dominance over you and Bucky however he could manage— usually by covering your body in his marks and every once in a while by covering your face with his come.  You could expect Bucky to taunt and mock you, cornering you into consenting to his relentless barrage of pleasure and pain, over and over again watching you struggle to maintain your sense of denial and disgust, reminding you that you loved being fucked just how he wanted.

In fact, today was a pretty typical day while the three of you crashed in a motel, Steve staying silent and distant while Bucky kissed his way down your stomach that rose and fell shakily with each breath.

“Bucky, p-please,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could more easily pretend it wasn’t you begging him for more.

"What's that, Peach?  Want me to lick up your juice?" he grinned.

You shuddered and he chuckled as he knelt down between your legs to give a long, slow lick over your sex.  Your entire body jolted when his rough tongue slid over your swollen clit, so he focused there until your legs were quivering and your head fell back.  

"Mm, so sweet…” he cooed.  “Come getta taste a’this, Steve.”

“I’m busy,” Steve refused, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bucky sighed, standing up straighter and leaving your pussy ignored; you whined a little, but it fell on deaf ears.  “I’d love to see what you’re reading that could possibly be more interesting than this.”

“There’s an article about us,” Steve answered sternly, looking up from the paper to meet Bucky’s gaze, before glancing to look at you.  “All three of us.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving you naked on the bed as he crossed the room to tear the paper from Steve’s hands.  His eyes scanned the page until he landed on the part Steve must have been referring to.  “Holy shit,” he breathed.  “Look, Peach, you made the papers!”

He brought over the article for you to read, and you sat up straighter when you saw that a photo of yourself had been included alongside the mugshots of Steve and Bucky.

Two escaped prisoners, one missing woman, spotted in woods near Schenectady, NY...

“When is this from?” you asked nervously.

“The paper’s from today, but we were in Schenectady two weeks ago,” Steve explained.  “They aren’t anywhere near us.”

It brought back memories of TV broadcasts you’d seen in hotels, radio news Steve had turned off before you heard too much.  Phrases like ‘statewide manhunt,’ ‘federal investigation,’ and ‘trafficked woman,’ which had once been foreign to you, now represented your deepest anxieties.

Bucky saw the fear on your face and knelt down on the bed beside you, stroking your face gently.  “Aw, Peach, don’t be scared… they’re not gonna find us, I promise.”

“If they did… what would happen to me?” you asked weakly.  You truly had no idea if you’d be returned home and treated as the victim of a crime, or if you’d be arrested and charged as a perpetrator, as a collaborator who aided in the escape and continued flee of two violent criminals.  They’d already gotten you in on a few robberies, even one bank— could you defend yourself by saying that you were forced to do it?  

“Nobody’s gonna take you away from us,” Bucky assured sternly, not quite answering your question but making it clear that was all you were gonna get.  You reached up to rest your hand atop his where it held your cheek, letting your watery eyes fall shut before you looked back up into his enrapturing gaze again.

“Kiss me, Bucky, please,” you whispered, making him laugh and shake his head.

“No, Peachy, I would but I know where that mouth has been.  Steve woke you up in the middle of the night to choke on his cock, thought I wouldn’t hear, huh?”

You gasped a little and Steve crossed his arms where he sat in the chair.  Bucky turned his attention back to Steve with a look of challenge on his face.  “She’s scared, Stevie, won’t you come over here and make her feel better?”

Steve sighed but relented and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the bed and stare down at you.  For a moment you didn’t know what he intended to do, until he knelt down and grabbed your hips, pulled your spread legs closer to the edge of the bed where he latched his lips onto your slick and swollen folds.

“Oh god,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair, his tongue pushing inside you right away, twisting and thrusting and licking right over your g-spot until your eyes rolled back in your head and your back arched up off the faded quilt.  Bucky grinned as he watched you, leaning down to kiss your neck, then suckle on a hardened nipple, then lick over your hips until finally he bit down on the inside of your thigh.  You yelped a little and felt him smile against your delicate skin.

“I told you we’d take care of you, babydoll,” he mumbled, voice all deep and throaty like it got when he was about to spend an hour reminding you who you belonged to.

Sometimes you dreamed of the life you had before this, of the person you were when you only belonged to yourself, but that life was gone forever and it wasn’t coming back.  Each day you mourned it in a different way.  At first it was just the loss of dignity, then it was the loss at any chance of gaining that dignity back.  You missed your friends and family, but you realized they wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms after this long.

You realized it was well and truly over the first time a man on the news called you an accomplice to the ‘rampant crime spree’ of Bucky and Steve.  Just a few weeks later, the stories changed from two prisoners and their kidnapping victim, to three prisoners.  And yes, you were a prisoner, but the police didn’t see a difference between you and them anymore.  You had no reason to run, no motive for escape.  They were the only thing keeping you alive and free now, even if this freedom wasn’t exactly overflowing with liberties.

So, you accepted as quickly as you could that this was your new life; every morning you banished the memories of who you used to be, and every night you prayed that your lovers wouldn’t be caught.  And it wasn’t so bad of a life to have, even if it wasn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself— there was something nice about it, really, never very calm but still having its moments of peace and domesticity.  Like falling asleep in the backseat of a stolen truck while Steve played blues on the radio.  Like sitting in Bucky’s lap as he told you all about the beautiful tropical islands they’d take you to someday.  Like when Steve robbed a jewelry store and told you he’d picked that one because they had the ring he’d seen in a magazine ad, the ring he decided he wanted you to wear from now on.  Like being Mrs. Barnes when Bucky introduced you to his criminal connections, and being Mrs. Rogers when Steve did the same the next night.

Maybe you’d forgotten how to be anything else but their sweet, quiet, obedient Peach, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad wrap after all.

[suncakie]

—they threw kids in the dustbin! Inarizaki x gn!reader

Day twenty-five

31 Days of Haikyuu [🏐]

Warnings. not proofread, Kita has canonically one older sister one and younger brother both of them are ageless and nameless so these are made up, fluff, Atsumu Whining.

Notes. I have no idea how to end this, but, the faster i finish these fics the faster i can write my abandoned wips>:D(ps. this is gn!reader, if i used he/him, she/her pronouns don't hesitate to tell me, ill fix it right away)

Atsumu had a wonderful idea to break in Kita's humble abode dressed up as Santa as a surprise, It does not go as planned.

Atsumu had his wonderful idea to burst into Kita's home while wearing santa outfits, with him of course being santa while the others are the reindeers or elves, saying he has to be the one who will give gifts to nice kids because he's nice.

Osamu would've made an arguement right then and there if it weren't for Suna stopping him in doing so, You on the other hand only smiled mischievously while all of you agreed to his decision.

The three of you, Aran, Gin and you were in charge of the costumes while the three of them were in charge of the gifts, of course with Aran, you and Gin's list of gifts already at their hands.

Being the most respectful and thoughtful person in the universe, Both Gin and Aran didn't attend the morning practice once to join you in asking permission to Kita's grandma about your plans to only be surprised that they would be staying at his parents house during the holidays.

Deciding to actually go to Kita's humble abode with the help of his Grandma which you theee now call Yumie-san out per request and get scolded whenever you accidentally call her Obaasan.

Knocking on the door, The said parents greeted the lady as they gave eye contact to the three of you, Yumie-san Explaining why the three of you are here.

Once inside(with Yumie-san's bags) you three explained how you wanted to surprise Kita by giving out a show by acting as santa during midnight, as though listing what the three of you needed and the permission to use the chimney and splatter snow everywhere on the ground. Of course with the thought of cleaning the mess afterwards.

They agreed of course, its very rare to have your child's friends act as Santa, heck, they could also help out with his younger brothers View on Santa.

Realizing how there are supposed to be more gifts than usual, you excused yourself from the group to dial up Osamu about this knowledge and the other information the three of you have gotten. On the other hand, The father explained how the chimney haven't been cleaned for a while now as its not that used with the heater running, the older male suggested to clean it before the plan but both Gin and Aran refused to and said not cleaning the chimney is a better idea and they will clean the mess afterwards.

I mean, Atsumu is the only one entering the chimney.

The day has finally came, the inarizaki group chat has been loud since 11pm, the others who aren't able to join the surprise chatting away in the group chat while the reindeers in the surprise also joined in the fun so that its not that suspicious.

Surprisingly, their parents allowed them to not be at home during midnight, saying its only a once in a life time opportunity as long as they go home after and not get hyperthermia.

Kita's phone has been blowing up nonestop, he doesn't even check as he tucked in his younger brother to sleep, saying that Santa come until he sleeps. Walking out of his younger brothers room, Kita looked by the presents under the tree trying to see what gift will be presented as "santa"

"Where's the santa gift?" Kita glanced at his father while crouching down the tree, looking at the different labels finding the specific gift.

His father shrugged as a response, making himself busy in his phone "how about ask your sister? Maybe she still has it hidden" Kita nodded and headed to the kitchen, where his Grandma, mother and older sister stayed cooking food for later.

"Onee-san? Where's Satoshi's Santa gift?" He peaked his head at the corner as his older sister hummed in confusion "I thought oton is the one who will provide the gift?" Kita frowned at his sisters response as he explained how he already asked him and directed him to her.

"Oton! Shin-chan is asking where is Sato-chan's Santa gift!" A soft mumble of 'its not with me!' Was heard as his sister frowned, "maybe we could improvise with something else?"

Suddenly a noise of complaint rang through the walls of the humble abode, alerting both the siblings as the parents and grandma ignored it and continued with their work, like this is a normal thing to happen.

"WHY IS IT SO DIRTY?!" A familiar voice whined as a thump was heard at the living room, both the kita siblings rushing towards their in both curiosity and fear.

Right below the chimney, a fat inflated guy sat their with a pout, wearing what seems to be a red and white cotton wear, while Shinsuke and Shinya stood there, brows furrowed as their father casually took a glance at the boy.

Sipping on a coffee cup, he scrolled through his phone, as he glanced at the kicked puppy at his foot "You look cleaner than last year, did you request your elves to clean our chimney?"

"HUH?! YOU DIDN'T CLEAN THE CHIMNEY?!" The santa starred at the older man in rage until a group of five bursted through the door, three of which wore a reindeer costume and the other an elf.

"I'm sorry for him today, he's been climbing in and out chimneys the whole hour" a familiar silver hair man covered the mans mouth, an apologetic look on his face while the other elve nodded at him.

"We're just gonna put these gifts here, is that okay?" A man in a reindeer costume with well rested eyes pointed under the tree, a bag of what seems to be gifts in his back as the other reindeers just placed the gifts under the tree, which seemed too many for a child.

"Yes of course" the older man nodded as Kita's grandma went to the five, a plate of cookies and milk on a tray. "Here you go, Sato-chan baked these" a smile was on her face as the other elf who just scolded 'santa' thanked the old lady and handed them down to each of their co-workers.

On the other hand, the two siblings blinked in surprise and in confusion at this communication, this is normal? Since when did this walmart santa came in the house with talking reindeers?

Not until Kita had finally registered the familiar voices, a disgusted look was on his face when he faced 'santa' surprising not only 'santa' himself but also most of the people in the room to see him with such emotion.

Relaxing his face back he stared at 'santa' before speaking "Atsumu, who let you in?" The blonde blinked and confusingly before pointing towards you, Gin and Aran, who sat comfortably right beside the tree with Suna and Osamu.

"They said its fine to go through the chimney" Kita nodded and went ahead to the five of you, tapping you on your shoulder as the conversation halted "y'know you can be sued by trespassing our property without permission right?"

You blinked once, then twice, before backing away with a hiss, The four laughing at your reaction while Kita looked at you confused. "I never knew Elves sound like cats" Suna mumbled as he stared at the recording button on his phone, Osamu nodding right beside him.

"We got permission from your parents and obaasan" Aran turned to Kita after confirming you wouldn't answer his question. A faint sound of "I told you to call me Yumie-san!" Was heard as Aran raised his hand and apologized.

"Hm, Otosan why didn't you inform us?" Kits turned to his father, who was taking pictures on his Polaroid camera. "They said they wanted to surprise you, didn't you get surprised?" A smile was on his father's lips as his own slightly twitched upward, a longingful look on his eyes as he slightly looked down.

A voice of excitement suddenly snapped Kita to his senses, more or likely, it alerted the whole household, a smaller version of Kita squealed as he giddly ran towards the walmart Santa, slightly frowning when he realized the santa costume was fake.

Atsumu frowned at the boy, slighly sweating bullets as he signaled his fellow friends for help "Santa, did you go to the gym?" The kid blinked and stared at the blonde.

"Well yes! Santa decided to go to the gym" you said patting the boy on the shoulder as he turned his attention to you, doe eyes looking directly at your, if looks could kill you would be dead on the floor.

"[Name]-chan?" You blinked at the boy, starring at him while the others starred at the two of you in confusion "you know them little boy?" Suna, in a reindeer costume kneeled next to you, a grin on his face.

The little boy nodded and side hugged you "mhm! They helped me with bullies!" Osamu grinned behind you, touching your shoulder "never knew you fight off kids now [name]!"

You huffed as you shrugged off the greynette's hand, patting the smaller boy's shoulder "It was a coincidence"

The boy ran to Kita, pointing at you while you helped up a pouting Atsumu, telling him he is a very bad Santa "Shin-nii! They're the one who threw the kids in the dustbin!"

The whole house halted in sync, slowly looking at you while you paused in place, like those horror movies once they realize the ghost is in the room, you stood up straight, staring at father Kita dead in the eye "I can explain"

Day 25

@suncakie 31 days of Haikyuu

[pan-de-queer]

FINAL THOUGHTS ON EP3

is it just me or are these episodes going MUCH faster??? it's probably the pacing and bc the first one was the pilot ep but eps 2 and 3 felt like they just zoomed by!

okay now for the actual thoughts:

circling back to the "maybe she wanted to die on the battlefield that day. maybe she thought she earned it" line. from the start when the sister at the orphanage refused to say how ava died, i was super sus that the sister killed her bc in my short twenty something years of living, i have physically heard a religious person saying any illness is caused by sin. and this sister, as i have learned throughout all the whopping 3 eps, was in charge of everything ava. bathing, feeding, wheeling, and, supposedly, meds. and judging from the way the sister talked about ava, i doubt she would've listened to any meds suggestion ava asked for. so if ava couldn't move and the sister fucking hated her then how could mother superion accuse her of suicide?? as if the orphanage sister cared enough to grant ava such a wish? as if the orphanage sister wouldn't think it blasphemous? so as this part was unfolding i was like, highkey that sister killed ava bc she believed she was ridding the world of "sin." and the thing is? i don't think ava completely blamed her. not that ava believed her disability made her sinful, but that her life was just so horrible at that point that she didn't really care. alive or dead, she was probably at a point where it was all the same to her. so the whole "maybe she thought she earned it" is, in my opinion, ava acknowledging that yeah, she didn't plan it, but death wasn't such a horrible option, after everything.

OKAY MOVING ON.

i definitely hated the ocs scenes with lilith and mother superion but also v much wouldn't change a single thing. it was needed. not only for the story but for mother superion and lilith's character development. but dear god did i fucking hate it. as a former teacher, that's like, the WORST way to go about introducing anyone to anything new but also??? highkey tracks for religious people lmao my christian teachers were p shite too

looovveed the set design of the ocs headquarters, esp the murals!!! the design team must've spent AGES on it and i hope they know i appreciate it so much i am giving them each a forehead kith

now for the thing that y'all been pushing me about: bea and ava properly meeting for the first time.

honest to god. i love bea so much. she's such a strict and serious character in the first two episodes but the way she's so soft and gentle with ava???? like even if her comfort-speech is blunt af, she's also sooooo caring. i love her. i love how WELL she can read a room. i love how she guides ava (introducing her to camila, letting her know mother superion is like that with everyone, lets her know about shannon, etc.) but doesn't baby her. this episode made her shine so much imo

my last thought on the episode is ava's not of "i want to live" like???? THAT'S HER WRITING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MORE THAN A DECADE!!!! BABY GIRL!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!

annnyyywwaaayyyss that's it for today mayhaps but thanks to everyone (YES i see y'alls comments and likes i love u all) who's invested in me experiencing this for the first time bc i am horrible at finishing shows but i'll try to finish this one for y'all

warrior nun ep 3 live blog

LET'S GO!!!!! I AM HOPPED UP ON M&M'S AND THE NEED TO SEE ALL Y'ALLS FAVE COUPLE LIKE I WANNA KNOW WTF IS UP!!

she floating like in those horror films I don't watch lmaooooo

Bea saying "you need to calm down" while she herself is very clearly confused af is hilarious actually

ooohhhh warrior lady!! i wonder if the areala actress auditioned on horseback like did she just ride in like "I would like the part"

OH THIS ADRIEL BITCH Y'ALL TALKING ABOUT IS AN ANGEL HUH

love how all the other crusaders just standing around when an angel arrives like I'm p sure the Bible made angels seem more winged and eyed up and blinding I think

why is the ocs named so long is it bc os is a computer term

ava's face!!!!!

DRAMATIC DOOR OPENING!!!

can the girls closing the gate even hear the father or was it just time to close the gate u CANNOT tell me that wasn't practiced

ava sees bitches fighting and smiles. she just like me for real

the merc's accent is so funny to me lmao SHOOT HIM MARY

YES BITCH!!! love u Mary

kristian and Jillian watching the tapes like "these bitches NOT subtle" lmaooo

did ava just- SMELL the baton??

ooohhhh THIS is mother superion

i love mother superion's vibes

ava is a giggly stressed baby and I love that for her

CAMILA BEFRIEND AVA!!!!

OH NO WAIT BEA IS SEATED NEXT TO HER!! GO GAYS GO!!

the way ava just slides closer alskslsklsks

the slow way Bea smiles as she starts talking about shannon 🥺😭

the way Bea is looking at ava like she understands!! this bitch patient af!!

"these are my girls" ookkkaayyy mother superion

"bit wordy isn't it" AVA BABE U GET ME!!!

"maybe she wanted to die on the battlefield that day. maybe she thought she earned it." OKAY I HAVE!!! THOUGHTS!!! but later

HOW IS FATHER VINCENT EVEN THE LEAST BIT FAMILIAR WITH AVA!! WHAT IS HIS INVOLVEMENT WITH THE ORPHANAGE!!!!

CAMILA ALKSLSKSLS WORST STALKER BUT I LOVE YOU BABYGIRL!!

oh it's the con kids again. OH IT'S JILLIAN

ALSKSLSKLSKSLS CHANEL 💀

oooooooohhhhhhhhhhh

NO AVA DON'T GO TO LILITH ALONE!! I AM SO SCARED FOR U!!!!!

AVA ALSLKJLSJSK PICK THE SWORD UP!!! NOT THE FOOT STICKING!!

idk like it doesn't seem fair to put all this responsibility on a child who was dead, was a former quadriplegic who JUST got control of her limbs again after more than a decade, who NEVER signed up or was even so much as TAUGHT any of the shit they're going thru, and then expecting TRUST when u all haven't even told her shit!!! ure preaching trust without giving her faith!!! tf!!!!!

OOOHHHHH SO SHE WAS KILLED!!!

also that is the WORST question to ask a depressed kid ma'am some us HAVE wanted to die actually!!!! and the fact that she can finally live and isn't hating herself as she does is magic in itself actually!!! WOW I AM HATING SO MANY OF THESE OCS SCENES ALSKSLSKSL (it'd only ep 3 tho I'll fight thru)

[alrightberries]

“may i?”

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff & angst.  ❈ word count: 8k

❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.

alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.

❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.

a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands. 

Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.

There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.

He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.

But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.

The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.

He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.

And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.

He was hideous.

Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it. 

The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.

He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless. 

His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.

Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.

All because of that damned explosion.

All because of that damned bearded bastard.

Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort. 

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice. 

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand. 

The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.

“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”

Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.

“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”

He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.

“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.

“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”

“No.”

“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”

“No.”

He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.

“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”

“...yes.”

A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”

Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.

“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”

His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”

It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”

You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.

“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.

He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.

“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.

Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.

Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.

Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.

“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”

“Y-yeah.”

FUCK.

What the fuck.

Did he just fucking stutter?

Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.

He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.

Fuck. So you did notice.

Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—

“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”

Oh, right.

He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses. 

“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”

Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”

You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.

“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.

“An hour at most.”

“Are you lying again?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations. 

“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”

Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”

You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.

“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”

As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.

He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.

Yeah, he definitely was not lying.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”

He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.

“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”

“I’m not feeling any—“

“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”

Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.

“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.

Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.

Nothing goes past your observant eyes.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.

“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”

You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.

“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”

“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”

“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”

Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.

“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”

Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.

“Your brew’s better.” 

“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”

Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.

The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.

Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.

“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.

“Yeah.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.

“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”

You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”

He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.

“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.

“Are you relaxed?”

Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.

“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.

“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”

Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.

“Your tea’s not bad today.”

“Really?! You think it’s good?”

“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.

“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.

“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.

He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.

His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.

“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.

“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.

“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”

Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?

“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in. 

Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.

Was this what insecurity felt like?

He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.

He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.

“I don’t want your shitty tea.”

Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.

“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”

Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.

“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”

Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”

“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”

Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.

“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”

Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”

The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.

“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.

“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.

“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”

Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?

“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.

“They didn’t say.”

Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.

Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.

“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”

Hange shrugs.

“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”

Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.

But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.

“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”

Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.

“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”

“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“

His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.

“I will not repeat my order. Go.”

The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.

That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.

Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.

That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.

The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”

Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.

“Come in.”

The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.

“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.

“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”

You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”

“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”

You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”

You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”

“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.

I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.

“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”

Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?

Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.

Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.

“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”

Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“

“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.

“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.

He eyes you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.

He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.

“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”

You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.

“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”

Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)

He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”

To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred  you to continue on.

“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”

Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.

His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.

Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.

Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.

You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?

Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.

Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.

And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for. 

Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.

Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.

Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.

“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed. 

He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.

Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.

Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity. 

From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head. 

“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”

“Levi.” 

“What?”

“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”

You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.

“Levi, what are you—“

“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”

You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.

“I’m just Levi.”

A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes. 

Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.

“May I?” 

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.

“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”

“Then what am I to you?”

Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.

...would you really tell him?

You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”

Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more. 

“Are you lying?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”

“I can’t.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.

“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”

He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—

“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”

You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.

But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”

He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”

“Then what do you want?” 

“You.” 

Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”

You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.

“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”

“Are you lying?” 

“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.” 

And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant. 

In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.

His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.

He pauses.

“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.

“You may.”

And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.

There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.

Home. 

The feeling of home.

Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”

“Come in.”

As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.

“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.

“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.

“Good.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[therealvinelle]

Hi, I was reading a post here in Tumblr about how Edward has two gifts, he can hear thoughts and is super fast, so I wonder what is your opinion about this topic?.

Furthermore, what others power might the Volturi's leaders and guards might have?

Edward has one gift, and it’s telepathy. Being fast isn’t a gift.

Strength, speed and even senses is varied among vampires. Some, like Emmett, are on the extreme end, but that doesn’t make Emmett gifted, nor does it mean that the rest are at an equal level. The Cullens have clear variations between them.

Physique appears to play a dominant role in how these variations play out: Alice, who was malnourished and never made it past 4′10″, is the physically weakest of the coven, while Emmett at 6′5″ and a mountain of muscles is the strongest. This is made very clear during the baseball game:

“Emmett was hovering close to third (base), knowing that Alice didn’t have the muscle to outstrip Rosalie’s fielding." (Midnight Sun, chapter The Game)

There’s also the fact that it’s taken for granted that Emmett would be intimidating to other vampires, and he is dismayed when James is more worried about Jasper, who is lean.

I suspect this disparity exists simply because a large frame means more tissue to have blood in. Newborns, animal, and human-eating vampires all having a difference in terms of strength is proof that blood has the final say in a vampire’s prowess, so Emmett being able to contain more of it than Alice and therefore being stronger makes sense to me.

This isn’t the meta for me to get into that, but I don’t think vampires have muscles in the sense we do. Or rather, we can’t know that they do. Renesmée is proof that Edward retains his human DNA, or she would be a clone of Bella. Nahuel is proof that Joham retains a Y-chromosome. Does this mean that vampires have different cell types? Does a vampire’s stone-like skin still contain human DNA? One would think yes - except, if you rip a vampire apart, you get rubble. The parts are all solid. There’s also Carlisle theorizing that vampires digest blood by absorbing it through porous tissue, which makes me wonder why he dismissed his digestive system (my guess: vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra. Carlisle couldn’t have done it on his own, and Aro is the only one mad and curious enough to be down for that). I’m getting off-topic - what I’m saying is, we don’t know how vampires work, meaning I can’t build this meta off of the assumption that they have muscles. I simply can’t know for sure that they do.

The important thing is that a vampire’s physique is a deciding factor in how strong they are.

There’s also Laurent’s warning about James, that he has “unparalleled senses”, meaning some vampires are better at sight, hearing, and smell than others. I can believe that, because we have canon examples of vampires being bad at tracking.

There’s Edward in Port Angeles, who couldn’t track Bella’s, his singer, scent to her location, and (I admit this one is conjecture but it’s so probable that I say it goes) Carlisle’s creator, who after taking care of the mob must have realized he’d bitten one of the humans, meaning a newborn would soon be loose in London. This is punishable by death by the Volturi. The fact that he didn’t return to finish Carlisle off means that he was unable to find him. I remind the audience that Carlisle was bleeding and suffering the effects by a venom intended to paralyze the victim. To put it this way, Carlisle wouldn’t have survived James, or anybody with a trace of tracking competence. By comparison, Carlisle was able to locate a dying Rosalie by the smell of her blood, even though there wouldn’t have been a trail for him to follow, as her body had not been moved.

When it comes to these disparities in strength and speed among the Volturi, I imagine Jane and Alec are the physically weakest members of the guard, and among the slowest. They’re prepubescent, meaning no muscle for them, and their height (a humble 4′8″ and 4′10″) implies very short legs. They’re simply not going to get as far as an adult would, not in the same number of steps. Renata at 5′0″ is another tiny vampire lady who likely isn’t very strong or fast.

That’s not to say I think these physically weaker members of the Volturi guard are necessarily useless in hand-to-hand combat, Alec at least is a boy stuck in a playful age, and the males around him are trained warriors. He’s probably picked up a few things over the years.

As for the others, Aro is described as frail-looking, which hints at him being quite thin. I don’t think he’s weak, if he couldn’t win a fight he wouldn’t be around, but I do think he’s probably below average in terms of strength. Caius I picture as a Harrison Ford type, so of course I’m gonna think he’s a bit burly, but this is me headcanoning and not actually hinted at in canon. Marcus is 19, so I imagine he can only be so strong.

Back to Edward’s speed.

He’s a 6′2″ teen, that’s code for “very long legs”, though I’m actually going to go ahead and posit that he’s not actually that fast. Strap in for this next part:

The guy was a teenager who lay dying for an undisclosed amount of time. The fact that Carlisle had the time to get to know his mother points to a few weeks, at least. And Edward was very ill:

Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. (New Moon, page 21)

Muscles atrophy quickly, never more so than when you’re a teen ravaged by fever, on your deathbed. And as I’ve explained above, I think your physique in life ties directly into your vampiric prowess.

I think Edward is certainly the physically weakest of the male Cullens, quite likely weaker than Rosalie as well, maybe even Esme.

Now, speed is not the same as strength. However, for humans, the two are connected. It’s the muscle fibers in our legs that determine our speed. Basically, type I fibers make an enduring runner, type II fibers make a speed runner. So, assuming that vampires retain their human musculature, one could argue that Edward had a lot of type II in life. However, Carlisle when he was human was able to outrun the mob he was with:

He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. (Twilight, page 158)

Carlisle clearly had a lot of type II fibers, and unlike Edward he was in peak physical condition when he died. He was also an adult who’d had more time to develop musculature, while Edward was a seventeen-year-old. If musculature was a deciding factor, one would think they would at the very least be of equal speed, though realistically Edward should be slower.

So, if it’s not muscles, what is it that makes Edward faster than the others?

It could be a matter of technique. Except, the way Bella describes movement when she wakes up as a vampire, it’s all very automated. Her body knows exactly how to do everything, and executes it without much input from her:

After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shocked me even more.

Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but it did not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively—about a sixteenth of a second later—I already understood what had startled me, and that I had overreacted. (Breaking Dawn, page 251-252)

Growling, crouching - those are all distinctly vampiric, non-human ways to act. Bella didn’t learn this, her body knew it of its own accord. When she later runs, she explains it as happening the same way - she just does it.

The way Bella experiences it, vampiric movement is like a package she downloaded, and that executes her instinctual commands with no need for her to actually know how to do any of this. Her grace is another example of this - Bella Swan may be in charge of her own consciousness, but the venom is entirely in control of her body.

Given these facts, I don’t think it’s technique that makes Edward a better runner than others. His technique is likely similar to everyone else’s. If it isn’t, if technique is what makes the difference, then who is and isn’t fast is an arbitrary process.

With that, we get to my controversial theory about why Edward is the fastest Cullen: he’s not.

Running and being fast is the only thing about vampirism that Edward enjoys. This is for another meta, but Edward is extremely depressed about every single other bit of it. Every aspect of being a vampire torments him.

Except the running. He enjoys all of it, especially being the fastest, so much. And as a newborn, he would have been faster than Carlisle.

But after that, when his newborn strength faded…

I honestly think that Carlisle decided to just slow down a bit when running with him, let Edward have this. It’s no skin of his back, and it makes Edward happy, so why not.

Esme joins the family, and of course she would be down for this. Nothing is more parental, more maternal, than losing at checkers to make your child happy, after all. Could also be she’s not very fast herself, but even if she were then she would downplay it to make Edward feel like Jesse Owens.

Enter Rosalie, who would think it’s completely ridiculous, yes, but she would also recognize this excellent opportunity to call in a big favor from Carlisle later on. There’s also the fact that I think Carlisle has a gift (yes, yes, meta is coming, people) that makes him very persuasive people. And also that for all that Rose gets a lot of bad rep, she is very generous and loves her family, if being fast makes Edward happy then alright.

Emmett is an easy-going guy, he goes along with things. Alice adores Edward and would go along with it. She also has tiny matchstick legs and couldn’t outrun him if she tried. Jasper could not care less.

Bella does get outrun by Edward after waking up, but she also did zero exercise in life (listing this in case musculature matter), had Renesmée devour her from within rendering her emaciated, and then died like a slasher movie murder victim. There’s not a lot of blood in her, and what little blood there is doesn’t have a lot to work with. She does defeat Emmett at arm wrestling, so I’ll concede that. However, there are enough extenuating circumstances surrounding Bella that I think my “Edward isn’t that fast” theory survives his ability to outrun her.

So, I believe Edward is the fast Cullen because Carlisle told a white lie in 1919, no one ever corrected that, and now it’s too late.

[emerald-chaos]

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

[hornime]

mutually assured destruction | kyoutani kentarou x gn!reader

he pushed your cheeks in with his fingers, effectively quieting your protests. “be quiet,” he spat, “and take what i give you. or nothing at all.”

warnings: 18+, fwb!kyoutani, hate sex, degradation, orgasm denial, fighting for dominance (idek if that’s a thing but it should be), both you and kyo are BRATTY AS HELL, some choking, spitting, CHAIN BITING, kinda toxic ?? but like mutually so it cancels out cus pemdas ???

w/c: 1.7k (i got carried away but kyoutani is just so sexy)

a/n: the way i came up with this title while studying for apush and then kyoutani flooded my mind and suddenly the catalysts of the cold war no longer mattered to me anymore.

you and kyoutani were not a good mix, not by a long shot. simply being in the same room was a disaster waiting to happen; he was a bundle of tnt and you were a lit match. for all that you hated each other, though, both of you needed the other for something: a fuck that would never disappoint.

the sex, just like your relationship, was explosive. it was heart-stopping, ab-clenching, vision-blinding, breath-stealing, hardcore-as-fuck sex. neither of you could get enough of it nor wane yourself off it. you were addicted.

it made you hate him even more.

[11:05 PM] kyo-kyo: come over

you cringed at the contact name. you must’ve changed it after the last time you hooked up, all stupid and cock-drunk. you quickly retyped his contact info before responding to his message.

[11:05 PM] you: why

[11:05 PM] kyoutani: are you an idiot? you know why

[11:05 PM] you: ik i just wanna hear u say it

[11:05 PM] you: say that ur soooooo horny that you just haddddd to text me

[11:06 PM] kyoutani: no. fuck you.

[11:06 PM] you: fine. im not coming over then.

you both knew that was a lie.

[11:08 PM] you: have fun taking care of urself.

[11:08 PM] you: needy bitch.

[11:08 PM] kyoutani: watch it. i wasnt this mean when you were begging me to fuck you last week.

you sighed. that was a moment of weakness.

[11:08 PM] kyoutani: whatd you say last time? something along the lines of “ill do whatever you want just come fuck me”?

[11:11 PM] kyoutani: *attachment: one (1) screenshot*

[11:11 PM] kyoutani: ohh it was “ill do whatever you want PLEASE just come fuck me”

[11:12 PM] kyoutani: youre so much nicer to be around when you use your manners

definitely a moment of weakness.

[11:12 PM] you: fuck off i get it. im coming

[11:12 PM] kyoutani: doors unlocked

the moment you nudged your way into his apartment, he was on you, hands gripping tightly at the flesh of your hips and teeth nibbling at your bottom lip.

“get off,” you groaned, pushing him away. as you peeled off your jacket, you glanced down at his pants and looked back up at his face with an amused expression. “are you hard already?”

he met your eyes with a gaze of lust—and was that desperation?—before turning to walk towards his bedroom, expecting you to follow. “no.”

“yes you are,” you teased. “you really needed me, didn’t you? you’re absolutely pathe—”

before you could finish, kyoutani grabbed your wrist before practically dragging you to his bed. he pushed you onto the mattress and, with his hands on your waist, maneuvered your body up until your head rested between his two pillows. “stop fucking talking. your voice is annoying.”

“at least i can keep it in my pants,” you retorted. “you’re just embarrassingly horny.”

“you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” that shut you up.

he crept towards you until the gold chain around his neck dangled tantalizingly in your face. in an instant, you were kissing, aggressively melding your lips together in a mess of teeth and tongue. kyoutani’s hands clumsily reached for your bottoms, briefly breaking the kiss to unbutton your pants and yank them, along with your underwear, off your legs. he then did the same to himself, giving his leather belt a thoughtful once-over before glancing back at your face. he was clearly deliberating about something in his head, though you were completely clueless as to what, but he ultimately threw the belt to the side alongside his jeans with a shrug of his shoulders. maybe next time, he thought.

meanwhile, you’d taken off your shirt and were tugging at the hem at kyoutani’s. he seized your forearm, “stop being so impatient,” he chastised, before pulling the cloth over his head and letting it drop to the floor.

breathless, you both marveled in the glory of the other’s naked body. kyoutani, a lot more eager than you—though he’d rather die than admit that—closed the distance between you, leaning down to suck on your tongue. when he separated from you, his eyes cloudy and cheeks flushed, you spit in your palm, maintaining eye contact while feeling blindly for his cock.

he hissed, briefly shutting his eyes, as your fingers closed around his shaft, leisurely stroking up and down. 

“where’s the lube?”

“in the,“ his voice became strained as your thumb swirled his pre-cum around the tip, “the bo-bottom drawer. i’ll,” he groaned. “i’ll get it.”

you released his cock as he leaned over, opening the drawer and pulling out the bottle. he dribbled some of the liquid on the pads of his fingers and brought them closer to your hole. you tensed, eyes squeezing in anticipation as you prepared for the intrusion.

nothing happened.

in confusion, you opened your eyelids only to be met with the mildly-entertained expression of the man above you. “so hasty,” he tsked. his fingertips circled your fluttering hole but did nothing more.

“stop teasing,” you pleaded.

he slowly inched his fingers in, groaning as he watched your walls stretch to accommodate him. for a few minutes, he did nothing but push in and out and scissor his fingers, making you wider and wider.

“put it in.”

your words were met with little resistance—he wanted this as much as you did, if not more—and he repositioned himself, aligning his cock with your hole, now stretched and slick with lube. he moved his hips in, moaning lightly as he bottomed out.

“f-fuck,” he mumbled. “you’re so tight.”

“just move.”

he obliged, thrusting in and out, faster and faster, until you both were crying out in pleasure, scrumptiously close to your orgasms.

“i’m gonna cum soon,” you babbled. “don’t s-stop.”

“oh, are you now?”

you nodded mindlessly, brain hazy and unable to register the sinister undertone of his question.

“y-yeah. i’m so close. so. close—fuck i’m gon-”

kyoutani suddenly halted his movements, eyes blazing as he looked down at you.

“wha-why’d you stop?” you couldn’t help but whine. “i was so close.”

“are you seriously asking me that? why i stopped?” he taunted. “who’s the one that called me a ‘needy bitch’? huh?”

shit. if you’d known that he was going to use your jabs against you like this, you never would’ve made them. hindsight is a bitch.

“i didn’t mean it, kyo,” you pleaded, innocently using the cute nickname. “you know that. so why don’t you just give me what i wan-”

he pushed your cheeks in with his fingers, effectively quieting your protests. “be quiet,” he spat, “and take what i give you. or nothing at all.”

he thought for a moment. “and call me ken.”

he resumed his thrusts, significantly more erratic than before, and you couldn’t help but call out his name: ken, k-ken, fuck ken, more. 

however, you’d sobered up from your denied release, and a wicked plan was beginning to formulate in your head. kyoutani, actually ken, now, was losing his composure even faster than you were—he’d denied himself an orgasm for the sake of punishing you, after all. you could tell that his dominance was crumbling—his shaking forearms and barely concealed moans had not gone unnoticed—and now was a good a time as ever for revenge. 

and his chain, his stupid, fucking, gold chain, was getting on your nerves, clashing with your face every time his hips met yours. fed up and driven by vengeance, you clasped your teeth around the glimmering necklace, catching him off-guard.

he looked down at you, curiosity shining through his lustful gaze. “what’re yo-”

you quickly jerked your head to the side, yanking him off balance and making him land on his side. in an instant, you’d forced him onto his back and straddled his muscular thighs, a triumphant look visible on your face. 

“how’d you even d-” ken choked on his words as you slammed back down on him again, taking him impossibly deeper. his hands scrambled to grip the bedsheets, “shit.”

“for the record,” you panted in between heavy breaths, rocking your hips, “i called you a needy bitch because you are a needy bitch.”

“shut up. no i’m no-”

your hand closed around his neck, preventing him from continuing. “yes you are,” you insisted, “and you’ll take whatever i give you.”

he shook his head out of your grasp, gasping for air. “i fucking hate you.”

“open your mouth,” you ordered. he glared at you defiantly. “open,” you purposefully clenched, tightening your hold on his cock, “up.”

at the sudden change in pressure, he couldn’t help but throw his head back and moan, allowing you to harshly grab his chin and let your salvia drip off your lips onto his awaiting tongue.

“swallow,” you demanded.

overwhelmed by the undeniable pleasure coursing through his veins, he did so without complaint. why does it taste good, he sighed internally. now i’m gonna want more.

just a few thrusts later, you both reached your orgasms, moaning far too loud in a room of walls that were far too thin. the intensity made your muscles turn to jelly and you collapsed onto ken’s chiseled chest, your bodies both trembling.

“‘m tired,” you mumbled into his collarbone.

“yeah me too,” he snapped. “you’re fucking exhausting to be around. i don’t know why i do it.”

“i do,” you teased, raising your head, “‘cus you’re a needy bi-”

he mashed your cheek back into his shoulder. “don’t finish that.” you weren’t sure if the fuzziness in your mind was clouding your judgement, but you swore you could hear the hint of a snicker in his voice.

gradually shaking the exertion out of your limbs, you picked up your clothes and got dressed, walking out ken’s front door with a middle-finger throw over your shoulder.

“i hope i never have to see you again!” he called out behind you.

as you headed back to your apartment, your phone buzzed with a text:

[02:01 AM] ken: i have a team dinner on tues and its gonna be annoying and ill probably be frustrated as hell

[02:01 AM] ken: so

you hesitated before responding.

[02:01 AM] you: i can be there around 10

[02:02 AM] ken: cool. sounds good

you couldn’t help the corners of your mouth from turning up. you were happy—in a sick, perverted, sex-crazed kind of way—but happy all the same.

tuesday couldn’t come soon enough. you were going to absolutely destroy each other.

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