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wordsandstrangeways · 1 year

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Tagged by @wishflower4 (I had not done been tagged before because I lurk on the internet like a pond frog)

And I'm gonna tag @makesometime who will likely get far more interaction than I do and may have done it before <3

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

First fic published on Ao3: A Moment Eternal with @iguanastevens March 2021, just post Magnus Finale when we were sad and got into aggressive poetry battles on RQO

Last fic published: You're my delusion Jarthur Malevolent fic and also my 69th! So.. so it's 69ing.

Fandom/ship I only wrote once: The mechanisms, and I'm not linking it because though it's not terrible it's also not one I like to think about too often, Silver Tongued Devil if you want to go find it.

Favorite fic in most popular fandom/ship: The Magnus Archives is the most popular fandom I've written for and I guess my favourite is A Soft, Consuming Embrace as it was the first true narrative fic I ever published, John wakes up to find the Lonely rushed in to fill the Eye's space.

Fic I wish more people read: Hmmmmm, I'm gonna be cheeky and say the RQBB Fic I wrote with @makesometime: A Chance To Run because I think it's a really solid narrative that is a love letter to RQG and it came at a time when the fandom was waning but I believe holds its own and Zolf and Oscar deserve their gin soaked speak easy. It can also be read as either SFW or exceedingly NSFW based on chapter headings and I think to be able to weave that together in the chapters was really cool of us.

Fic I agonized over: If I were being glib I'd say all of the kinktober fics I've published which can be found in my kinktobAmS series and are for but being serious I'd say I don't have an agenda. This is the final installment of my RQG 18m gap exploration of what's going on in the heads of Wilde, Zolf, Barnes and Carter and Carter's was the final one and it was like pulling teeth. I wanted to get his voice right so badly. I think it went okay.

Fic that popped out fully-formed: Conversely, the first in that series (Say something , do it soon) flowed out of me like water. I adore Wilde in so many ways, I have spent a lot of time thinking about the way he thinks and what motivates him and It's too quiet in this room was like writing down something being dictated it flowed so well

Fic I'm proud of: This is a toss up between Stems of White, Flowers of Green and Lets be flexible about this (both RQG). Writing both I made myself cry, just a little. The heartache of the first (a fic about Zolf's life when Oscar has died and returns to him with the blooming of flowers) felt so poigniant at the time and even reading it now it feels like such a lovely them. The latter is my longest SFW fic and was true labour of love. It actually started with a NSFW idea but it got away from me dramatically and I'm really proud of the twists and turns of it. Zolf in physio after losing his leg meets, surprisingly well put together, yoga instructor Oscar Wilde.

I have no idea if any of these will appeal to anyone, but it's funny to think of my random scribblings out there in the wild(e). Special shout out too to my erotic sonnets (all RQG) cause they make laugh and they're great fun. I should write more of those.

#fic ask #@wishflower4 is amazing you should read all of their fic too #malevolent #rqg #rusty quill gaming #zolf smith #rqg oscar wilde #my fics I guess #gosh this was introspective in a way I hadn't anticipated this morning

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commander-diomika · 3 years

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Pairing: Zolf Smith/Cel Sidebottom Word Count: 2100 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: Spanking, Asexual Character, Non-Sexual Kink, Kink Negotiation, RQG kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Aftercare Prompt: Spanking Summary: Cel has a favourite method of stress relief that they haven't indulged in awhile. Zolf seems like the kind of person who would be able to help. Notes: Trans feminine non binary Cel coz why not? You know they've got the potions to make just about anything work.

Cel has always admired Zolf’s hands. Like a miniature of his stature, they were broad, probably twice the breadth of Cel’s slender ones, and yet there was something so deft and gentle about them. The way that Zolf tied a complex knot, or kneaded dough, held a certain fascination for them.

“I wanted to ask something from you, Zolf. A favour, probably, and I know you like helping people but I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes but I was just thinking that if y-”

Zolf held up one of those delightful hands and Cel stopped. “I’m listenin’, Cel. What can I do for you?”

“There’s this thing, that I like, it’s sort of a stress relief thing, and I haven’t had a chance to do it in a long time and I know you would be very good at it-”

“Cel. Specifics, please? I can’t say yes ‘r no if you don’t tell me what you’re askin’.”

Cel took a sharp breath in, their eyes bright and guileless, “I’d like you to spank me.”

Zolf looked momentarily poleaxed. Wherever he might have guessed this was going, that was NOT it.

“But I want to say, it’s not a sex thing. It’s honestly just,” they fluttered their hands as if extrapolating, “-nice! And I came to you because I know that you wouldn’t read into that anything that wasn’t there because, well, that’s just the kind of person you are.”

Zolf turned the idea over slowly, not even realising when he started to slightly nod his head. “I reckon I could do that for you.”

…

Cel led Zolf to their room, face glowing with excitement.

“Ok!”

Zolf wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, or how to get started on such a strange request, but he trusted that Cel knew enough about their needs to lead the way.

“Now, first question. Would you be comfortable if I was naked? I know some people make a big thing out of nudity. Honestly, I’d just be more comfortable that way, but! Only if you are also comfortable with that.” For once Cel actually managed to finish their sentence and waited for Zolf’s response, head tilted.

Zolf shrugged. He was on a similar page when it came to nudity. It meant exactly no more or less than what people assigned to it. “Whatever you like. This is your show.”

Cel beamed and started on the buttons of their shirt. Zolf admired the unique aesthetics of their body as they undressed, long limbs, surprisingly square and sinewy shoulders, small peaked breasts and their prick resting soft between their legs.

They left the goggles perched jauntily on the top of their head. Zolf, whilst not completely certain what they did, knew they were magically imbued. He didn’t find it too strange that Cel might prefer to leave them on even in an intimate situation. Or if it was strange, no more than Cel usually was.

“Do you think I’ll be at a workable height if I lean over this desk?” Without waiting for a response, Cel cleared the surface of said desk with a tinkling clatter of metal and mystery components.

Zolf’s mouth twitched in a fond smile. “Should be right.”

With another absolutely winning smile, Cel turned, moved the chair, and leant their long torso over the surface, perching on their elbows. The table was of a height that folded them to a right angle, maybe a bit sharper if they rested their chest all the way down.

Cel looked over their shoulder, stomach giving a little thrill of excitement as Zolf came over. It really had been too long, and they were looking forward to having those lovely hands on their backside.

Zolf rested on hand in the small of Cel’s back, and waited, as if for some kind of starting signal.

Right! Cel realised through their anticipation. For all that Zolf always radiated an air of reassuring competency, there was every chance he’d never done this before. Perhaps Cel had gotten slightly ahead of things by stripping off and presenting their bare arse to him over a desk.

“So, if you just… give me a few whacks and I’ll let you know where things stand? Focus on this rounded part-“ they indicated with a hand “- but I’d like it if you went down my thighs a bit as well.”

“I’m guessin' you’d prefer if I try not to touch b’tween your legs.” Zolf clarified.

“Yes, correct. There’s “nice, neurochemically stimulating pain,” and “ouch no fun” pain and I’d definitely prefer the former and not the latter. If you just keep a nice steady pace, the area will warm as blood comes to the surface in a mild inflammation response, my tolerance will build, and you’ll be able to increase intensity.”

Zolf smiled that fond little smile again as Cel continued. “We can calibrate a nice starting spot together. I don’t think you’ll get too carried away, but if it’s too much I’ll just say “stop” or if I need a moment I’ll say “pause.””

Zolf simply nodded. That was the information he had been seeking, plus the typical Cel extra. “Ready?” was all he said.

Cel nodded, and Zolf wound up and gave their buttock a smack with a tempered amount of force. Their arse was quite lean and firm beneath his hand.

“Oof! Yes! You can go up from there, by about twenty percent to start.”

Zolf wasn’t entirely sure his understanding of his strength could be broken down to a percentile, but he did his best.

Together, they calibrated. He’d give two or three spanks, Cel would offer feedback, and he’d go again. After two or three rounds of this, Cel settled their chest all the way down to the desk, cushioning their head on their forearms.

“That’s perfect, Zolf, thank you! Continue just like that!” They gave their hips a little inviting wiggle. “Please,” they added as an afterthought, voice slightly muffled into the desk.

Zolf gave a small chuckle and continued.

He settled into a rhythm; It was surprisingly satisfying. By Cel’s metric he was probably using about fifty percent of his strength, alternating cheeks with one hand still resting in the small of Cel’s back. He brought the blows down their thighs and was rewarded with a little squirm and a delighted puff of air from Cel as he did so.

Zolf’s palm grew warm, and Cel’s pale skin reddened beneath the firm blows. He watched their torso melt a little further into the desk, and when they turned their head, he noted that same red flush across their cheekbones. He slowed momentarily when they gave a small moan, but they hadn’t asked for a pause, so he could only take that as a good sign.

A few minutes later Zolf changed hands, coming to stand on the other side of them. He expected the small pause to be filled with Cel’s usual chatter, but they remained silent.

Zolf didn’t think he’d ever been a room with Cel without hearing them speak for this length of time.

When his other hand had grown as warm from impact as the first, Cel spoke. “Pause.” Their voice was breathy in a way that Zolf had never heard before. He paused, and without thinking took both hands and gave both of Cel’s arsecheeks a massaging squeeze. Cel sighed with pleasure.

“My tolerance has definitely gone up. If you could increase the intensity? I can take about twenty to thirty percent more.” They dropped their head back onto their forearms, and again, after a sufficient pause for it to occur to them, they added, “Please.”

Zolf gave what was asked of him. The flesh under his palms was achingly warm now, and on the rounded parts where he had been hitting most frequently, there was a slight raised area, starting to darken from flushed pink to a deeper, purple tinged colour.

When they asked for another pause, this time they sounded drunk. They got their arms underneath them and straightened up.

“Had enough?” Zolf asked, his voice coming out a little rougher than he’d intended.

“No, no it’s just-” They turned blinked somewhat owlishly at him, their cheeks a delightful shade of pink. “My legs are starting to give, a little. Which is good! I am nicely full of the endorphins released by this kind of process.”

They licked their lips, and Zolf couldn’t help but think that Cel looked incredibly cute like this.

“If it alright with you…” For the first time in this whole scenario, they sounded hesitant. “Could I lie down? In your lap, maybe? Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

Zolf swallowed. As they came up off the desk and turned, Zolf couldn’t help but let his eyes dip to their crotch. Well, he didn’t have to dip very far, with their height difference. Cel’s prick was still soft between their legs. Perhaps if they had been hard, he might have felt awkward about taking them into his lap, but it seemed they had been accurate in reporting that this was purely about sensation for them.

He nodded, and went to settle on Cel’s bed. Before Cel joined him, their hands fluttered, reaching toward their head as they considered something. “Hm,” was all they said, again surprising Zolf with their lack of patter.

Cel clambered onto the bed with shy smile. They crawled over him and draped their long body across his thighs, arse perked up over his lap. Zolf could feel a touch of tension in the body where it touched his. Cel turned their head to look at him, thoughtful through their slightly sensation-drunk haze.

“Um,” they said, and brought their hands up, delicately removing the goggles and handing them to Zolf. “Could you put those on the dresser, please?”

Zolf couldn’t help but feel he was being handed something more than a pair of goggles as he obeyed.

Cel closed their eyes, and sighed, unsteady but relieved. “Could you- not hard- but could you hold onto my hair?” Again, Cel was shyer than Zolf had come to expect from them. “Only if your comfortable with it.”

Zolf smiled and his stomach swooped a little at that. There was something warm in his chest, this feeling of being trusted with something rare and precious. “Sure.”

He curled one hand into the short hair at the nape of Cel’s neck, and as he gripped, he felt that last measure of tension go out of the body resting against his.

“Ready?” He asked softly. Cel nodded, slightly pulling their own hair in his grasp.

The shift in energy from the desk to the bed was palpable as Zolf started up his firm blows again. Cel sighed, and whimpered and shifted against him, and this time they didn’t need to speak; Cel had fed Zolf enough data for him to be able to read the request for more, and harder, and faster. He felt his own breath start to quicken from exertion, let his smacks rise and swell and push, seeking more of those little pleasured gasps that Cel now seemed more comfortable releasing.

He wasn’t quite giving them everything he had, but through the nice, dreamy rhythm he had fallen into, he found himself marvelling that this skinny alchemist could take as much as they were. The sweet spots of Cels’ arse was now dark with pre-bruising and their toes curled and rubbed into the coverlet on the bed.

He gave a few hearty spanks and Cel gasped into the covers. Zolf felt them go completely limp. Suddenly there was just a puddle of sweaty half-elf in his lap.

“Cel? Hey now.” He ran his hand up Cel’s spine, suddenly worried. “Is that enough?”

Cel groaned out an assent and rubbed their face against the covers. If they were wiping away tears, Zolf didn’t mention it. “Yes. I- thank you, Zolf.”

He helped Cel off his lap and they laid their long body out flat, their tall hair flattened with sweat against their forehead. They smiled dreamily at him. “That. Was. Perfect.”

Zolf felt any worry drain out of him, and his heart felt full and delighted. There was nothing he liked more than helping people, no matter that this was a new and unconventional method of doing so.

“Is there anythin’,” his voice felt wobbly and he cleared his throat to try again. “Anythin’ you need now? Healin’, water?”

Cel shook their head at both the offers, then smiled, a bit less bright than their usual smile, something hazier and more relaxed. “Actually. I wouldn’t mind a hug. Only if you’re-”

“-comfortable with that,” he finished with Cel and their mouth twisted wryly. “’Course.” He laid down next to them and gathered the loose-limbed half-half elf to his chest.

They stayed like that for a long moment, before Cel piped up, their voice sounding steadier for being held. “Zolf?”

“Mm?”

“I just realised- uhm- should we perhaps have sound proofed the room first?”

#rqg kinktober #kinktober #hank writes #cel sidebottom #zolf smith #rqg fan fic #rusty quill gaming #yall??? writing cel is so fucking fun?

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commander-diomika · 3 years

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Pairing: James Barnes/Howard Carter

Word Count: 2300

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Sadism, Masochism, Caning, Unhealthy Kink Dynamics, Kinktober, unsafe kink, No Aftercare, Coming Untouched, Heavy BDSM, What if the time skip but everyone just being the worst version of themselves

Prompt: Sadomasochism

Summary: It was ostensibly Carter’s room, but there was no lock on the door, no method of keeping anyone out. And the walls were thin. So thin, that Carter could hear every crack and thump of whatever Barnes was doing with Zolf just a few rooms over. He smiled dreamily, and wondered if Zolf liked what he found underneath Barnes’ attention.

When Carter could hear the soft tap of bootheels heading to his door, he stood automatically. Barnes didn’t knock before entering.

It was ostensibly Carter’s room, but there was no lock on the door, no method of keeping anyone out. And the walls were thin. So thin, that Carter could hear every crack and thump of whatever Barnes was doing with Zolf just a few rooms over. He smiled dreamily, and wondered if Zolf liked what he found underneath Barnes’ attention.

When Carter could hear the soft tap of bootheels heading to his door, he stood automatically. Barnes didn’t knock before entering.

Carter stepped into the open space in the room, stood in a mockery of at attention; his feet tight together, but head tilted and scornful curl to his lips.

Barnes’ eyes were dark as he circled. Carter didn’t need to be good at reading him to see that whatever he’d sought with Zolf, he hadn’t found it.

Suddenly there was a hand cupping his cheek, and a thumb sliding over one cheekbone, skating up close to his eye, down and rough over his lips, smushing them about. Barnes’ gave a small “hmph,” sound, as though unimpressed with what he found.

“You’re in remarkably good shape, dog.” Carter’s mouth twitched. He knew what was coming next. Delighted in it, in fact. Barnes’ examining hands pulled the collar of his shirt down, looking at Carter’s unblemished throat.

“Hmph. Where’re the marks from yesterday? Thought Wilde said you were ‘sposed to keep ‘em.” Carter flashed a ghost of an insubordinate smile, but he said nothing. What came next was inevitable. He didn’t need to prod to get it.

“If Zolf’s just going to keep healin’ you up, even when we say not to…”

The slap was not unexpected, but still managed to catch Carter off guard. His head rocked to the side, and he took a half-step to stop from falling.

“Guess I should just go harder. Make sure lessons stick even after the marks have gone.”

Carter straightened back up, ears ringing and stomach rolling with nauseating excitement. The open hand was a gift of a starting move, but he could already feel blood welling on the inside of one cheek from the force of it.

Carter was always taking things. That’s what they needed him for, they always said, but Barnes and Wilde didn’t like it when things were taken from places they hadn’t directed him to. Sometimes they caught him at it and sometimes they didn’t, and sometimes they’d let him get away with it. Sometimes he made certain to get caught.

With a shove and a turn, Barnes had Carter’s arm twisted up behind his back, wrenching the shoulder, the hand over his applying cruel pressure to wrist and fingers, stopping just short of popping anything out of place. Carter bit back a gasp, blood deliciously hot in his ears.

Wilde’s only edict when he’d gifted Carter to Barnes was that the dog still needed to be able to do his job.

Don’t hurt him past the point of usefulness. No matter what he asks for. And he will ask.

Barnes pushed on the twisted arm and kicked into the back of his knees, and this time Carter went down, barely getting his arm out front in time. The boot that caught him in the ribs took all the freshly-gasped air from his lungs and he sprawled, rolling to get his legs back under him.

If he stayed down, Barnes would go easy on him. And that just wouldn’t do. Not when his blood was already high and singing in his veins. Barnes hit him as he scrambled, closed fist this time, blow landing midback, the kind of hit that made him feel sick and needy for more.

“Just stay put, dog,” Barnes huffed, one hand seating in Carter’s hair, the other clasping over his throat, hard and cruel. Carter still felt the ghost of bruises beneath the grip, despite Zolf’s ministrations.

“Where- where would be the fun in that,” Carter gasped.

“You’re completely bloody unhinged, you know that.”

And Carter, true to the role he was being cast in, laughed choppily through the pressure on his windpipe, a rough bark.

“I don’t think-” he pulled air back into his throat in a wheeze, “that these punishments are working quite the way you and Oscar think they are.” Before Barnes could reach to stop him, Carter already had one hand down his pants, palming his swelling cock, leaning his weight on the other hand behind him.

Barnes made a disgusted sound and let go of Carter’s throat.

“Maybe it’s not even about you, then. Maybe I do it for me.”

Carter already had his cock out and stroked it frantically before Barnes could take his next move. “I guess I’m not the only one who's messed up, then.”

Barnes yanked hard with the hand still fisted in Carter’s hair, adjusted his weight, and kicked, landing the blow on Carter’s balls just below his roughly stroking hand. The blow mostly caught the stretch of fabric still over Carter’s crotch, but he still choked and tried to curl in on himself.

It used to unnerve Barnes, the way the blood rushed to Carter’s face and cock during these sessions. Now it simply presented a challenge, another variable to manage. How to break him without breaking him, how to toe the bright, dangerous line that Wilde demanded he walk.

“Take your clothes off, then, freak.” Barnes released him and stepped back.

“Yes sir,” Carter snapped, but the honorific was soured by the mocking smile and the half-cocked salute. He shucked his shirt without standing. A shadow of bruise was already forming where Barnes had landed the kick to his ribs, and he stood, slightly gingerly, to take off his trousers.

“Put your hands on the bed. Don’t fuckin’ touch yourself, if you can bear to not wank for a few cursed seconds.” Barnes had stopped tying him up after the first few times, when it became evident that all he needed to do was ask in the right way.

Carter was grinning manically as he obeyed, hair flopping into his eyes as he leant over, presenting himself to Barnes, cock swollen and bobbing slightly. His back was a complicated crosshatch of scars already.

Sometimes they waited an awfully long time before they’d let Zolf heal him.

Barnes had already dropped the flogger he’d used on Zolf, and instead pulled from beneath Carter’s bed a long, thin piece of wood, braided leather handle on one end. He’d never come across bamboo quite like this before travelling to Japan, and it certainly had its uses.

Barnes slipped a hand between Carter’s legs to squeeze his balls, twisting them slightly in a firm palm, and Carter wheezed, the delight mixed with shock. Barnes grunted. “You’re sick, you know.”

“No more than yo-” Barnes wound up and brought the cane down, sharp and stinging. Carter gasped but stayed stock-still, fingers digging into the covers of the bed. Barnes gave three more quick strokes to Carter’s mid-back, and his breath hitched in what sounded like laughter. “Th- thank you, Barnes.”

Barnes growled, quiet and low in his throat. He knew that if he pushed hard enough, the right buttons, the right tools, he could wipe the impetuous glee from Carter’s demeanor. He knew how.

He set about the task with brutal efficiency, cane fwipping through the air to sink fast into flesh, angry weals immediately popping up in its wake. He walked the stripes up and down Carter's back, occasional moments of hitting one spot three times in a row, leaving Carter gasping at the onslaught, cock dripping with each twitch and strike.

Barnes hated how much Carter got off on this first part, but he was soothed by knowing he only had to keep pushing, to find the other side of it.

A few minutes in, Carter's back rippled with tension, out of sync with the strokes of the bamboo. His shoulder blades squeezed and flared, creating a vulnerable ridge of bone, and as Barnes zeroed in and viciously brought the cane down, Carter squeezed his thighs together and gasped, coming with a wet splatter against the covers.

Sometimes Barnes made Carter stop and lick it up. But Carter liked doing that, and it was a reward that today he didn’t deserve. Besides, Barnes didn’t want to pause, even to rub Carter’s face in his spunk. He was sinking into the rhythm, the stomach-churning satisfaction that came as he made a mess, a beautiful mess, of stripes and welts on Carter's back.

Barnes could tell by the shift in Carter's feet that he was about to move. Lightning fast, he brought the cane down hard over Carter’s lower back. “Don't you move, dog. You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

After Carter had come, his breathing always turned more ragged, his whimpers less manic. A guttural groan accompanied one particularly solid thwack, and Barnes knew he was on the right path.

It was always like this. After some of the wind was taken out of his sails, Carter broke easy. His teasing laughs subsided into something softer, something pathetic. Barnes had questions to ask, but the skin of Carter’s back had to be welted and seeping, bloodied lines rising, before Barnes could do that.

“What are we doing here?” he asked as Carter whined and shifted his feet. Another blow, aimed unerringly over the red stripe of a previous one.

“Reminding me who makes the decisions.” Barnes was pleased to hear the wavering in Carter’s voice that preceded tears. It was familiar enough.

“And what are you?” Honing in on the brightest line of red marring Carter’s back, he hit him there three more times, feeling the welt split properly under the third strike. Carter groaned, the long sound hitching at the end into a fully-fledged sob. Wilde would be pleased.

“What are you?” Barnes asked again, wandering strikes up and down, finding spots of pale skin amongst the red. The air parted with thwipsmack of stroke after stroke.

“I’m just- I’m just a tool!” Carter spluttered through obvious tears. His elbows shook but he kept his weight.

“And why are you still here, with us, in this team?” Barnes paused, breathing hard through his nose, working to bring it back under control.

“I’m-” and he hiccupped, and sniffed uselessly, snot and mess running down his face onto the bed. “Because I’m useful!”

“What- happens- when- you- stop- being- useful?” He punctuated each word with another stripe, feeling distantly that he had done his job; he was just curious to see what would happen.

“I don’t- I don’t knooooow!” Carter wailed, and now it was Barnes’ turn to feel a frisson of twisted glee.

“Do you want to find out?”

Barnes shifted his stance and gave one last crack of the cane, right down the spine in a way that he knew he shouldn’t, but it felt like Carter was always crowding him up to that damn edge and pushing.

He stepped back. If Carter stopped being useful, would Wilde kill him? No… he'd have me do it. Wilde wouldn't want to get his pretty hands dirty.

“Will you be good?”

Carter collapsed like a ventriloquist doll when the curtain dropped.

“Yes.” He muttered into the covers.

“Yes, you’ll what?”

“Yes….” He turned his head to stare balefully at Barnes, wincing as the small movement pulled the brutalized skin of his back and shoulders. “I’ll be good.”

Barnes breathed through his nose again, and with a great deal of effort, he accepted the victory. It felt like it took more every time, for him to pull back from this edge, to let go, and call it job done. “Good dog. Come on, come down to your knees.”

Carter lifted his hands, and turned, wobbling, to drop to his knees with a painful thunk. His face was a mess of tears, delighted glee gone dark in his eyes.

Barnes quickly knelt in front of him, close enough to bring his knees out wide on either side of Carter’s. Carter’s head lolled forward a touch, like he was about to fall.

Barnes put his hands on Carter’s shoulders, ignoring the sweat and blood beneath his fingers, not allowing Carter to collapse like he so dearly needed to. “Good,” he grunted.

Carter leant into the hands supporting him, refusing to look at Barnes’ face, so close to his.

“I’m willin’ to do one thing for you, since you did good in the end.” Unthinking, Barnes brushed a sweaty mess of hair off Carter’s forehead, trying to get him to look up. “I can either get Zolf to come n’ heal you, or I can tell Wilde that you’ve done your penance, and did it well.”

Carter looked up through his fringe. “It’s not like you to ask stupid questions, James.” He somehow managed to dredge up a speck of insolence, even now.

Barnes didn’t think before hitting Carter in the face, one hand still firm on a shoulder to stop him reeling back. There was that edge again, Barnes threatening to fall over it and be lost.

Carter sobbed and licked his lips, tasting the blood that dripped from his nose. He was fairly certain it wasn’t broken, but the sob did make it throb in a weird, sickening way. He dropped his gaze again.

“Alright,” Barnes said softly, and ran the same hand through Carter’s sweat-slick hair. It’s alright, he told himself at the same time. He don’t need his nose to do a job. “I’ll let Wilde know when I see him next.” He slowly lowered the man into a heap on the floor. Carter’s chest shook, and for a moment Barnes thought he was crying again, but as Barnes found his feet, he saw a flash of a smile, bloodied teeth.

Barnes’ jaw clenched. Looks like he still had work to do. Pausing in the door, he said. “Make sure my gear’s all clean by tomorrow, alright?”

#hank writes #rqg #rqg kinktober #rqg howard carter #commander james barnes #rqg oscar wilde #rqg fic #rusty quill gaming #this isn't quite dead dove territory but do be mindful of the tags

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commander-diomika · 3 years

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Pairing: Azu/Cel Sidebottom

Word Count: 1900

Rating: Mature (for drug references and mild sexual content)

Additional Tags: Drugs, Sort Of, Kissing, drugged kissing, Kinktober, thembofication, Fluff,

Prompt: Bimbofication / Collaring / Cockwarming

Summary: “I don’t know…” Azu said slowly. She wasn’t even sure where Cel had gotten the Rod of Bestow Curse, and their plan to gradually zap their intelligence down sounded… dubious. But then again, Azu wasn’t exactly a science-minded sort.

“Even I’m not silly enough to try this solo, Azu, and don’t you think it would be fun to do together!” Cel brandished the wand with an alarming enthusiasm. “I was just thinking about it, because when I take these off-” Cel tapped their goggles with a crystalline ding, “-for a little while after I feel, inebriated but not quite, until I adjust again, so I’m just curious about what happens if instead of calibrating out of the feeling, I persist with it!”

“Please, Azu. For science.”

It was just like the time with the Mega-joos, Cel explained to Azu. They just wanted to try something out.

“I don’t know…” Azu said slowly. She wasn’t even sure where Cel had gotten the Rod of Bestow Curse, and their plan to zap their intelligence down gradually sounded… dubious. But then again, Azu wasn’t exactly a science-minded sort.

Azu crossed her arms across her unarmoured chest. She did suppose that Cel had a point. The idea had a similar air to when Azu wanted to take a mysterious potion just to see what it did. She didn’t really feel like she could argue against Cel’s logic. (A very familiar feeling.)

“And if it all gets too much, I know, you can just restore me! I won’t be in any danger, and you can keep an eye on me, just like how I observed you last time! And nothing bad happened then except for a bit of broken furniture, and I’m not even big enough to break anything. Unless I somehow beast morph whilst- no, I’ll leave all my gear outside of the room and perhaps it would be good if your first responsibility is just to keep me in the one place so I don’t do anything rash with my potions.”

That sounded… remarkably sensible. But still, doubt niggled in Azu’s chest. “What if you stay that way? Something might go wrong with the restoration.”

“I have every faith in your healing! Besides, I’ve examined the wand carefully, it will definitely do what I want and nothing more, and it’s a basic enough spell to fix this kind of thing! Zolf does it all the time!”

“Why don’t you ask Zolf then?” Grasping, she knew.

Cel pressed their lips together, suddenly looking sheepish. “I don’t- You know that I like Zolf very much, Azu, but he’s not as much- well, to be honest, I just thought it might be something fun for us to do together.” When Cel dropped their chin and a puppy-dog pleading entered their eyes, Azu knew that the battle was lost.

She sighed. “Very well. Allow me to prepare the necessary spells.” Glee spread on Cel’s face, and Azu felt her chest warm with the rewarding light she always felt when helping. “Do not start without me.”

…

Cel took their goggles off and gently placed them on a side table. They closed their eyes and sighed, swaying a little.

“See, this kind of thing feels like we should have some drinks, too, but that would be adding another variable.”

“It’s probably best if I don’t get drunk.” Azu agreed. Cel’s room at the inn was comfortable if not lavishly appointed, a friendly fire in the grate, a bed and several armchairs just big enough for Azu to feel comfortable in.

“Right! Here we go! My research says this curse will affect my mental faculties based on a percentage of the original capacity, that is, not in an exponential but rather linear fashion from the original-”

Azu simply settled into a chair to watch as Cel pontificated. In the several days of downtime the group had been afforded at the inn, Cel had grown a shadow of stubble for a change. It was quite endearing.

“- but I am curious as to whether the-” Cel stopped suddenly, squeezed the wand in one hand, steeling themselves.

“The time for curiosity is done! It is time for answers!” they announced dramatically, then cast the wand in a sweeping motion over their tall frame. A sickly energy throbbed in the room for a breath, then nothing. Cel simply blinked owlishly.

“How… how does it feel?” Azu asked slowly.

“Not sure yet!” Cel said delightedly. “Give me a minute!” They stalked around the room in an energetic lap, once, twice. “I don’t feel any different. I’m going to do it again.”

Before Azu could advise against it, there was another eerie pulse. Standing in front of the fire, Cel’s eyes fluttered shut as they swayed. Azu felt the muscles in her legs coil, ready to spring into action in case Cel toppled, but they quickly steadied and snapped their eyes open.

“Should I take notes? Nothing in my research said that my memory will be affected by this experience but there is every chance that the sensations I feel can only be captured in the moment?” Cel went over to their desk and pulled up a sheaf of paper and started scribbling, muttering to themselves, seemingly having forgotten Azu was even there.

This continued for the next half an hour, cursing themselves twice more. On the third grasp and wave of the wand, they laid their head on their desk and gave a groan.

“Ooft. Dizzy.”

Concerned, Azu came over. She looked over Cel’s notes. The writings were becoming increasingly garbled; not any less legible but written in a confusing mix of languages, and the diagrams were becoming more… well Azu wasn’t sure how to describe it, but there was something abstractly expressive in them.

“Are you alright?” Azu asked.

Cel lifted their head off the desk, a smear of ink on one stubbly cheek. “Yes! I’m just goingsdahfdg-” They raised their eyebrows. “I’m fiweuhadermersh.” They clapped a hand to their mouth, rubbing a little more ink onto their face and jumped to their feet, remarkably spry.

“Do you need healing?” Azu asked, concerned. She wasn’t even sure how they were doing that with their mouth.

Cel walked around the room again, shaking their head. Azu watched them, and slowly settled into Cel’s desk chair. Cel didn’t seem worried or distressed, in fact as they turned and stalked back over, there was something determined in their eyes.

“I’m ok! I just- I think I just had to learn how to speak again.”

Azu frowned as Cel slowly lowered to their knees and laid their head in Azu’s robe-clad lap. “Bit swimmy,” was all they managed, and Azu instinctively petted their hair.

“The experience is not dissim- dissim- that different from some of the psy-psy-psychoa- trippy, you know, the little ground fellows that make you see things that aren’t real.” Cel mumbled into Azu’s lap. Azu continued to stroke Cel’s hair, feeling alarmed and trying not to show it. Azu knew that when people were under the influence of the little ground fellows, you should try your best to be a calming presence.

“It’s kind of nice. I often feel like I have two or three voices, layered inside, you know the talk inside your brain?”

“Internal monologue?” Azu ventured.

“Yes! The inside voices, all talking over each other, saying pros and cons simul- all at once and now it just feels…” They gestured with one hand then brought it up to rest on Azu’s thigh. “Quiet. I think if this happened, some other time, somewhere else…. I would feel afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m safe. And it’s ok to just feel… quiet for a little while. With you.” They nuzzled their nose into Azu’s thigh, their gaze unfocused as though they looked through Azu to something distant.

Azu watched Cel’s face carefully; cheek still smushed into Azu’s lap, their eyes darted up, their pupils blown wide and dark. “Kiss me?”

Azu blinked, petting hands stilling. “No, Cel.” She spoke gently, as one would to a demanding child. “It wouldn’t be right. You’re not in your right mind.”

“No, no no,” Cel went to shake their head but was really just nuzzling more firmly. “It’s still me! Cel! I’m not any less Cel! I’m fully Cel! I’m just, I don’t have the layers of inside-thinky-brain-talk that always talk me out of saying something like ‘I think we should kiss and I think that would be fun and nice!’ I’m pretty much always thinking that kissing would be fun and nice but there are so many reasons why I don’t usu- don’t say it!”

Azu was flummoxed. Cel’s only rule had been “don’t let me mess with my potions.” Cel hadn’t set up a single rule about what happened if the increasingly uninhibited half-elf hit on them.

That felt like a huge oversight on both their parts, really.

But Cel was looking up so earnestly, tall hair mussed from rubbing on her leg, and Azu was inclined to agree that kissing was indeed fun and nice, and very rarely far from her mind, too. Cel was making an awful lot of sense, as they usually did, even in this state.

“Ok.” Azu said softly. “Just one kiss, for us, if you promise you won’t regret it later.”

Cel came to stand. Whatever was happening in their mind, their body was still perfectly coordinated as they loomed over Azu and took her face in their slender hands.

“Azu.”

It’s very nice to be loomed over by them, Azu thought, looking up at Cel’s inky face.

“Kissing is nice. I don’t ever think I should have not-kissed someone.” Cel said, and for all their clunky phrasing, their voice was steady, gaze intent.

Azu tilted up her chin in invitation, and Cel dipped their mouth to Azu’s. The kiss was warm, and easy, Cel’s lips parting, letting their tongue trail and explore Azu’s lips, her tusks. Azu barely opened her mouth and felt Cel’s tongue slip inside, curious and soft. She met it with her own, careful not to push or overwhelm Cel’s narrow mouth, feeling the soft stubble on Cel’s upper lip against her own.

When Cel sighed in pleasure, Azu gently leant back.

“I think that’s enough, Cel.” Azu’s heart was beating fast in her chest. She wanted to surge upwards, plunge her tongue into Cel’s soft mouth, squeeze them and unwrap them and run her hands over every inch of them. But not like this.

Cel pouted, then screwed up their face in a slightly pained expression. “That was very wonde- beauti- nice. Wonderbeautynice.”

“Would you like a hug?” Azu offered. That, Azu felt she could offer without the heat in her veins overwhelming her. She stood, spreading her arms, and Cel wordlessly melted into them.

“I think I’d like my words back now, Azu. My inner words too. It was wonderbeautynice without them with you, though.”

Holding Cel her in arms, Azu let her heart open to Aphrodite’s light and lifted the curses on Cel. They sighed, squeezing their arms even tighter around Azu’s broad frame.

“That was such a kiss, Azu!” Cel leant back from the hug, not taking their arms from around Azu’s shoulder’s. Azu was relieved to see the sparkle in their eyes returned. “But you know, I don’t think I have quite enough data to say what kind of kiss it was, and I was wondering, if you would indulge me just a little further tonight, could we do it again?”

“For science, I take it?” Azu asked through her smile. With the light of Aphrodite and Cel’s bright gaze on her, Azu felt warm from crown to navel, fiery heat below that. She lifted her hand and rubbed tenderly at the smutch of ink on Cel's cheek.

“For science, absolutely.”

#hank writes #kinktober #rqg kinktober #nsft #rqg azu #cel sidebottom #ok so yesterday was ''grizzop fucked until he's facedown in a puddle of his own spit''#and today is tooth rotting fluff #even /I/ am reeling from that tonal shift #rqg #rqg fan fic

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commander-diomika · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Oscar Wilde

Word Count: 1700

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Pet Play, Under-negotiated Kink, Collars, Gags, Xenophilia, Mushblins, Choking, It/It's pronouns, Verbal Humiliation, Kinktober 2021

Prompt: Pet play / Body Worship / Bukkake

Summary: "There is no mode of action, no form of emotion, that we do not share with the lower animals. It is only by language that we rise above them." Oscar Wilde

The main reason Grizzop was so furious when Wilde called him an "it" was that he hated how it turned him on.

“Of course, you’ve just got this shit lying around in your office, you perv.”

Wilde finished fastening the collar and lead around Grizzop’s neck. He took Grizzop’s face in one hand and leant forward, faces close. Despite the width of Grizzop’s mouth, Wilde’s hands were big enough to grip his cheeks in fingers and thumb.

“Pets don’t talk.” Wilde said flatly.

But they do bite, Grizzop thought and lunged to chomp down on the hand wrapping over his face. His teeth snapped together on empty air. Curst, but Wilde was faster than he’d anticipated.

“No no, none of that either,” Wilde said, and from the same drawer that contained lead and collar, he drew another leather strap. “I don’t have any gags big enough for your filthy mouth but, this will do fine.” He jammed the collar into Grizzop’s mouth, pulling it and cinching it tight. It drew Grizzop’s lips back in a broad snarl but left him unable to close his teeth together. His tongue moved around the leather, tasting it and feeling a little drool leak from one side of his mouth.

“Maybe I liked it. When you called me “it.”” Grizzop stood tall and proud on the other side of Wilde’s desk, but his cheeks were stained with a nice kelp-green blush. “Maybe I want you to do it again, but naked this time.”

“You like being called an “it,” a creature?” Wilde stood thoughtfully. “I think perhaps you should be the naked one, then.” He came around the other side of the desk and locked the door. “Take your clothes off, then. Animals don’t wear clothes.”

Wilde shoved a firm hand between Grizzop’s shoulder blades. Grizzop probably could have resisted. He was certainly stronger than this fop, but then again, he’d asked for this, hadn’t he? Asked to be pushed around by a bard in a fancy suit who saw him as nothing more than a beast, and what exactly did that say about him?

He let his knees hit the floor, resigned. He gave a surprised yelp as a yank on the lead sent him down to all fours. He’d forgotten the collar was attached to a lead, firmly wound around Wilde’s hand.

“That’s a much better look for you, pet.” Grizzop growled at the rush of wet between his legs at the word.

Wilde walked a slow circle around the kneeling goblin. Grizzop couldn’t help but eye his soft leather shoes with scorn, low ankle boots that looked like they’d never touched a forest floor or felt the stain of mud on their thin soles. He lifted his head to watch Wilde’s curious, observing path around him. Suddenly there was an uncalloused hand on one ear, pulling his head back down.

“Eyes down, pet, whilst I examine you, or I’ll put blinkers on you as well as the gag.” Wilde said in a soft and sly voice.

As Grizzop leant his head down a small stream of drool fell from his open mouth onto the wood floor. Wilde’s shoe appeared in his eyeline, smearing the saliva along the floor. He gave a small, disgusted sounding humph as he did so.

“Who knew that all it would take to reduce you to a drooling mess was just to treat you like this.”

After tying the lead off onto a leg of his solid desk, Wilde returned and ran both hands experimentally down Grizzop’s flanks. Standing behind, he put a foot between Grizzop’s thighs and kicked them apart. Grizzop felt another flush at his rear being exposed. He could already feel his slit, open and wet, several tendrils peeking outwards of their own volition. He felt like a show animal, being inspected, weighed, found wanting by Wilde’s dispassionate gaze on him.

When Wilde’s hand cupped his sex, Grizzop felt a pathetic mewl rising in this throat. He quickly clenched his teeth around the strap to cut off the sound.

“My my, do goblins go into heat? Get desperate to be fucked and had? Is that what this is?” Several long fingers dipped inside him, feeling the slick there.

Wilde brought his mouth closer to Grizzop’s ear, leaning his body over Grizzop’s kneeling form. Grizzop could feel the warmth over him. “Or do you just like being treated like the animal that you are?” He accented this point with a slow thrust of fingers. Grizzop felt his tendrils winding around Wilde’s hand, welcoming him in like a friendly, traitorous cat. “You look good like this, pet. I see now why you reacted the way you did to my calling you an “it.” Excited you, didn’t it? And sex and violence are inextricable for a thing like you. Just an animal.”

Grizzop didn’t even try to bite back his mewl as Wilde withdrew the hand.

“Well, I have to see that my pet is good working order. Test its limits, of course.”

Wilde walked back to the desk, opening another drawer, and Grizzop felt his head spin. What was he doing here? He wasn’t even properly restrained. He could take his hands off the floor and undo the collars around his neck and mouth. Easily. He could just stand, pick up his clothes, and walk out right now.

He tried to slurp the saliva back into his mouth and failed, another few drops joining the growing pool between his hands, which were apparently glued to the floor. His claws gripped, scratching little marks into the polished floorboards.

Wilde came back, taking a position behind Grizzop. A hand wrapped around one long ear, drawing it out, stroking, pressing, exploring. In another scenario it could have felt tender. Here it just felt… curious. The other ear received the same treatment. He couldn’t help but sigh as Wilde gathered both ears in one hand and pulled his head back, not rough but firm. As Grizzop lifted his head, he felt his back arch naturally.

Grizzop gasped when he felt the touch of something at his entrance. Something big. The toy was cool and already slicked with something, and he felt his own wetness mingling with it, tendrils parting and pushing aside, welcoming the intrusion.

His mouth, on the other hand, gave a noise of protest as Wilde pushed the toy inside. It was far too long to be fully seated inside of him, but the girth of it was enough to stretch and sting despite the wetness there.

Wilde ran a soothing hand up Grizzop’s flank, but his voice was patronising. “Shhh, shh pet. I know what it can take.”

Grizzop tried to growl but it came out a whimper as the toy was withdrawn an inch and pressed in, finding a little more depth than he thought he’d had.

Wilde made a self-satisfied noise, stroking the toy a few more times into Grizzop. The goblin grunted, instinctively tried to lean his hips forward to lessen the depth of the strokes. Wilde’s hand dropped the ears. Faster than pencil-pusher had any right to be, Wilde threaded a hand into the collar around Grizzop’s neck and gripped, preventing him from leaning forward. The next thrust of the toy bottomed out and Grizzop’s whole frame was pushed forward. His breath came forced and ragged as his throat was constricted against the front of the collar.

Having found the limiting factors on either end, Wilde started fucking the toy into him in earnest. Grizzop was left with the choice to brace against the floor and take it, or let his body be pushed forward and choke into the collar held firm in Wilde’s hand. He felt blank and dizzy.

Grizzop braced, survival instincts the only thing left to him. The wet sound of the toy’s thrusts inside of him and his panting, wet and muffled by the strap in his mouth, were the only sounds in the room. The puddle of saliva on the floor in front of him spread.

He didn’t even notice when Wilde took the hand off the collar, but he did notice when inquisitive fingers explored around his spread-open hole, stroking the tendrils, gripping them as they twined and sought.

“God, it’s just a wet, eager hole, isn’t it?” Wilde said. He at least had the decency to sound slightly breathless as he kept up, unrelenting. His clever fingers had already deduced what Grizzop’s tendrils would like, spreading the wetness and jerking them off around the toy.

With a sick swoop of his stomach Grizzop realised he was rutting back into the stroke of the toy inside him, hot and breathless, knees sore on the hard floor.

“This is the proper look for you, ceature,” Wilde continued without letting up. “It’s just a good, slutty pet, taking this cock deep in its squirming hole.”

Grizzop felt his whole body flush and with a particularly quick and brutal twist of his tendrils, he came with a sob. His weight went out from his limbs in a wet gush and he hung, limp and gasping against the collar.

Wilde made another one of those insufferably self-satisfied sounds, lowering Grizzop to the floor. He went, boneless and pliable, his chest smearing into the drool beneath him.

Fingers, tainted with his own bitter juice, probed into his mouth around the leather.

“Now, did I fuck the biting instinct out of it?” Another finger, running over his pointed teeth. His jaw ached from being held in this awkward position, and he couldn’t find the energy to bring his teeth together.

Wilde’s quick hands unclasped the gag from Grizzop’s mouth. Wilde untied the lead from the desk, and when he tugged, Grizzop crawled on hands and knees without complaint.

Wilde toed off those soft boots and shucked his pants, settling into an armchair and spreading his legs. Pulling on the lead, he brought Grizzop’s closer.

“You may use your mouth on me, pet. And if you bite me, you won’t like the results.”

Grizzop didn’t even try to reply. At this point, he felt like he’d forgotten how. Wilde gripped him firmly by the base of his ears, and Grizzop let his quiet, wet mouth be pulled into Wilde’s cunt.

#hank writes #grizzop drik acht amsterdam #rqg oscar wilde #rusty quill gaming #rqg kinktober #rusty quill fan fic #rqg #Nsft

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commander-diomika · 3 years

Text

Pairing: James Barnes/Howard Carter

Word Count: 1100

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Breathplay, Choking, Come Eating, Dom/sub, but it's cute this time

Prompt: Breathplay

Summary: "The pads of Barnes' fingers drummed lightly over Carter’s pulse point, feeling the carotid artery throb under thumb and fingers. The thrumming was quick yet steady, and he squeezed lightly, marvelling at the warmth of blood and life beneath his fingers, and the way the pressure sent colour rushing high into Carter’s cheeks. "

Notes: Back in the "Strange Company" version of Barnes and Carter, felt like they deserved it after my dabbling in Worst Timeline.

The pads of Barnes' fingers drummed lightly over Carter’s pulse point, feeling the carotid artery throb under thumb and fingers. The thrumming was quick yet steady, and he squeezed lightly, marvelling at the warmth of blood and life beneath his fingers, and the way the pressure sent colour rushing high into Carter’s cheeks.

“Y’alright there, Howard?” Barnes asked the kneeling man. Carter flexed his jaw, tilting his head to look up. He curled his fists into the fabric of Barnes’ trousers and tugged, encouraging the hand wrapped lightly around his throat to slide forward, warm palm pressed to his windpipe.

“Good lad.” Barnes whispered, and twined a fist into the hair at the nape of his neck. Barnes could feel his lover give all his weight over to Barnes’s hands, letting the palms at throat and hair be the structures keeping him upright, keeping him from simply melting into the floor.

Barnes tightened his grip, just a touch, and leant forward, to press his lips to Carter’s. He felt the juddering of the pulse between his fingers. As the kneeling man opened his mouth his in a gasp Barnes slid his tongue insistently inside. Carter swore he could feel his heartbeat everywhere, in his ears, his tongue, fluttering underneath Barnes hands’ and his tongue throbbing against the wet slide of Barnes’ mouth against his.

Carter gasped again and Barnes let his hand release, trailing over bare collarbones and down, cupping a pec, flicking a nipple, not unclenching the hand in Carter’s hair, because if he did, all he’d be left with was a puddle of Carter, and they were only just getting started. Barnes glanced up to see Carter’s face was relaxed, dreamy, and Barnes knew he could do just about anything to him right now.

But Barnes only ever really wanted to give people what they asked for. He tugged lightly at the hair, encouraging the dazed Carter to focus, however briefly. With a raised eyebrow, Barnes asked Are you ready?

Carter simply smiled and licked his lips

Barnes leant down for better leverage, bringing their faces closer together, breath mingling for a moment before a brown hand covered Carter’s mouth, enclosing it. He caught Carter’s eyes, and whilst his unyielding grip meant Carter couldn’t move his head, Barnes’ could feel a energetic wobble of a nod against his hands.

Barnes took a deep breath, and still pressing his palm to Carter’s mouth, squeezed and sealed his nose shut.

Carter immediately wrenched in the grip, throat working on noises that couldn’t escape past the hand. His eyes grew wide, back of his head pushing against the resistance of the hand behind his neck. Barnes could practically feel his fingers being pulled together with the suction of Carter’s blocked inhale.

Listening to the beat of his own heart and the deliberately careful pace of his own breath, Barnes inhaled and exhaled twice before unsealing Carter’s mouth.

Carter gasped and let his head hang forward. He’s so dramatic. Barnes knew for a fact that Carter could hold his breath for long stretches and had seen him do so in fair more fraught situations than this. He gave a fond smile and Carter enough time to gasp in a little air before planting his feet against the thrashing. He caught Carter’s mouth again, broad palm fastening over mouth and nostrils in a practised grasp.

Carter tried to yelp and move, but Barnes flowed, letting his hand be dragged without allowing Carter to draw even a pinch of air. Carter’s hands continued to compulsively grasp and release Barnes’ thighs, as though grounding himself in the texture, his muffled squeaks becoming more frantic. Barnes kept on with those long, deliberate inhales, easy exhales, as though teasing the notion that one of them could breathe just fine.

When Carter’s eyes started to flutter, Barnes let him go, catching both shoulders before Carter slumped down. He played it up so well, and Barnes couldn’t help but smile as Carted looked up, with a gaze that could only be described as adoring.

“More?” Barnes murmured, and as he spoke he pushed a booted foot between Carter’s knees, bringing it to pressed down on the fabric over Carter’s crotch, not mean but pointed. Carter gasped, cock twitching, and Barnes followed the breath and locked it in, the other hand now flat across the back of Carter’s neck.

It wasn’t about restraining him, but more about keeping him steady. If Carter pitched sideways, there would be no resistance and he’d be free easily. He could wiggle his way out of most situations that he didn’t want to be in, and fast. This wasn’t about what Barnes could wrest; it was about what Carter wanted. He wanted to thrash backwards into Barnes’ grip, as lights danced and heavy, aching lust pooled in his belly, the surge inside each time asking perhaps he won’t let go this time.

But he always did. Carter wheezed as he hauled air back into starved lungs again, blinking rapidly at the tears in his eyes.

Barnes shifted his feet, this time following the gasped breath with a kiss, broad hands wrapping around Carter’s neck, thumbs running inquisitively over those thrumming pulse points again.

“Barnes… please.”

He nodded into Carter’s pleading, sure hands finding their place.

Carter swiftly freed his cock, dripping and hard, and stroked himself frantically as Barnes took his air, mouth and nose locked up tight. Carter didn’t thrash this time, all the energy drawn and driven into jerking himself off, racing against the dwindling supply of air in his blood.

“Go on then,” Barnes said urgently. “Get it done, Howard.” He clamped down hard with his hands, nails completely white with the pressure and finally his breath came fast and unsteady too.

Carter’s eyes fluttered, and the hand that still gripped Barnes thigh slipped. Barnes felt the splatter of come against his boots and the suction behind his hand switched off. Quick as a wink he caught the insensate Carter before he fell, easing him to the floor.

Barnes looked down at his boots and rolled his eyes. He brought the foot close to Carter’s face as he groaned and quickly came out of the stupor.

“Did you do that a’purpose?” Barnes asked, mock-dark.

Carter’s head rolled and grinned insouciantly without opening his eyes.

Careful not to smear the mess off his shoes, he dropped to one knee and lightly slapped Carter on one red cheek. “Are ye gonna clean up after yourself?”

“Are you going to make me?” Carter laughed.

Barnes fought to keep from smiling. Carter opened his glassy eyes and allowed his mouth to be drawn to Barnes’ splattered boots.

#commander james barnes #rqg howard carter #barnes and carter #hank writes #rusty quill gaming #rqg #rqg fic #kinktober #rqg kinktober #once again thank you to eleanor for reminding me that veins don't have pulses #despite the fact that I am a phlebotomist #Nsft

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