#shh keep this between me and the thousands of you

[rad-roche]

might fuck around and do another one of those portraits of that old man. anything can happen on a tuesday

[pucksandpower]

Three Weeks

Day 2 → Chastity 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Three weeks.

Three weeks is all it took for you to lose your sanity, to be stretched thin by a mixture of longing and frustration so intense it makes you want to scream.

And scream you have — into pillows, into the empty apartment that feels like it’s mocking you with its silence. Max is thousands of miles away, tearing up the circuits in North and South America, while you’re here, in bed, staring at the ceiling with tears of sheer, unfiltered need blurring your vision.

It’s the belt. That damn belt.

It’s tight against your skin, a constant reminder of his control, of how much you want him, of how much you can’t have him. It’s cruel, almost — leaving you like this, teetering on the edge of madness, so close to breaking that you’ve nearly begged him over the phone to let you take it off.

But Max, in his cool, controlled way, simply chuckled. “Patience, schatje,” he had said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll know if you try anything. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

You haven’t seen him in weeks. His voice is all you have, crackling through the phone, teasing you mercilessly, coaxing more desperate pleas from your lips with every passing day. The sound of engines roaring in the background as he whispered sweet, sinful things to you, telling you how much he misses you, how he can’t wait to get his hands on you.

And now, you’re here. Alone. Aching.

The tears that slip from your eyes aren’t new. They’ve been coming in waves, uncontrollable and humiliating in their persistence. You’ve tried to study, to focus on anything other than the throbbing between your legs, but nothing works. Every time you close your eyes, you see his smirk, feel the phantom touch of his fingers tracing over the belt’s leather, and it’s enough to drive you mad.

The apartment door creaks open, and you freeze, half convinced you’re imagining it. But then you hear the familiar sound of his footsteps, slow and deliberate, and your heart skips a beat.

“Max?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it carries through the stillness of the room.

He steps into the bedroom, and for a moment, you just stare at him, unable to comprehend that he’s actually here. Max looks every bit the champion he is — tall, broad-shouldered, with that aura of confidence that makes your stomach flip.

He’s home. Days early. And he’s looking at you like you’re his next victory.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “What a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

His tone is soft, almost teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver. He’s right — you are a mess. A pathetic, frustrated mess who’s been counting down the seconds until he’d come home, until he’d finally-

“Please,” you choke out, the word escaping before you can stop it. There’s no dignity left in you, no pride — just raw, desperate need.

Max’s smirk deepens, and he reaches out, brushing a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “What’s wrong, schatje? Did I leave you like this too long?”

The question is rhetorical, but you nod anyway, biting your lip to keep from sobbing.

His eyes darken, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Good.”

A shudder runs through you at the single word, your breath hitching in your throat. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how much you’ve been suffering, and he’s relishing every second of it.

Max’s fingers trail down your body, stopping at the belt’s buckle. He tugs on it lightly, making you gasp as it tightens around you. “You’ve been good, haven’t you? Kept this on just like I told you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, nodding frantically. “Yes, Max, please-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, his thumb pressing against your lips. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you’ve missed me.”

His command is clear, and you don’t hesitate, the words tumbling out of you in a rush. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t — Max, I can’t stand it anymore, I need you-”

He hums, clearly satisfied with your answer, and finally, finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small silver key. The sight of it makes your heart race, a fresh wave of tears spilling over as relief and anticipation flood your senses.

Max doesn’t rush. He never does. Instead, he takes his time, savoring the moment as he slides the key into the lock, his eyes never leaving yours. The click is almost deafening in the quiet room, and when he finally undoes the belt, you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips.

He pulls it away from you, tossing it aside carelessly, and then — then he just looks at you. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail, every tremor, every breath you take. It’s maddening, the way he’s just standing there, watching you unravel before his eyes.

“Max,” you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you. “Please.”

But he doesn’t move. Instead, he leans down, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, and he blows — a single, soft puff of air against your neglected bundle of nerves.

It’s all it takes. The sensation is so light, so fleeting, but it’s enough to send you over the edge, your body seizing up as pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave. You cry out, arching off the bed, your vision blurring as you’re torn apart by the force of your release.

And Max just watches. He watches as you shatter beneath him, as you tremble and writhe, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He’s in control — he always has been — and he’s enjoying every second of it.

When you finally come down, your body going limp with exhaustion, he smiles. It’s soft, almost tender, but there’s a wicked glint in his eyes that tells you this is far from over.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you like a second skin. “And I’m going to remind you of that every single day.”

You don’t doubt it for a second.

Max doesn’t waste any time. The second your body starts to relax, sinking into the bed with the aftershocks still rippling through you, he’s on you again, hands firm and unyielding as they slide down your sides. There’s no tenderness in his touch now — no gentle caresses, no soft murmurs. He’s relentless, each move calculated to drag you back into that haze of desperation and desire that’s been your prison for weeks.

“Max, I-” Your voice breaks, but he doesn’t let you finish. He cuts you off with a rough kiss, his lips bruising against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls against your mouth, and there’s a thrill that shoots through you at the possessiveness in his tone.

You nod, even though every part of you is already trembling from exhaustion. But Max doesn’t care. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay, doesn’t check to see if you can handle more. He knows what you need — what he needs — and he’s not going to stop until he’s satisfied.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart with a force that makes your breath hitch. You’re still oversensitive, every nerve in your body on high alert, and when his fingers slide into you, it’s almost too much.

“Max-”

“Shh,” he soothes, his thumb pressing down on your clit with just enough pressure to make you squirm. “You can take it, schatje. I know you can.”

Your head is spinning, the mix of pleasure and pain blurring together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. But even through the haze, you hear the challenge in his voice — the unspoken dare. You won’t beg him to stop. Not now. Not after everything.

He moves his hand with a skill that makes you see stars, curling his fingers just right, his thumb rubbing circles that have you gasping for air. You’re already so close, your body primed to snap at the slightest touch, and Max knows it. He knows exactly how to push you, how to stretch you to your limit and then demand just a little more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on your face as he works you over. “So beautiful like this. You’re perfect when you fall apart for me.”

You can’t speak, can’t do anything but moan as he continues, his words sinking into your skin and lighting you on fire. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as the pressure builds again, more intense than before.

“Max, I-” The words are swallowed by another moan as he hits that spot inside you, and you arch off the bed, every muscle in your body tightening. “I can’t — I’m going to-”

“I know,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “But you’re going to wait for me.”

It’s impossible, but you try, biting down on your lip so hard you taste blood. Your entire body is screaming at you to let go, to give in, but Max’s grip on your thigh tightens, grounding you.

“Wait,” he repeats, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re mine, schatje. You come when I say.”

It’s torture — sweet, agonizing torture — and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on. But Max is relentless, his hand working you with ruthless precision, keeping you right on the edge until you’re sobbing from the strain.

“Please,” you beg, the word slipping out before you can stop it. “Max, please-”

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Now.”

The single word is all it takes. The coil inside you snaps, and you’re falling, tumbling into the abyss with a scream that echoes through the room. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure crashing over you in waves, so intense that it leaves you breathless, trembling, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Max doesn’t stop. Even as you’re coming apart beneath him, he keeps going, pushing you further, dragging out every last bit of pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, sobbing mess in his arms.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watches you fall to pieces. “You’re doing so well for me.”

You can’t respond, can’t even think. Your mind is blank, your body limp, completely at his mercy. And yet, there’s a part of you that craves more, that wants to keep going, to see how far he’ll take you.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, watching as your body shudders at the loss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he positions himself above you. The look in his eyes is predatory, his intent clear. He’s not done with you yet — not even close.

“You’re going to give me another one,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “And then another, until I’m satisfied.”

You don’t know how you’ll survive it, but you nod, the need to please him overwhelming every other thought. Your body is already spent, muscles twitching with exhaustion, but when he thrusts into you, filling you completely, every nerve comes alive again.

The first thrust steals the breath from your lungs, the stretch almost too much after everything. But Max doesn’t give you time to adjust. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that has you crying out, your hands clawing at the sheets.

“Max-” His name is a broken plea on your lips, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he speeds up, his grip on your hips so tight that it borders on painful.

“You can take it,” he growls, his voice rough with need. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”

Your body responds to his command, the pleasure building again, too fast, too intense. You’re already so close, the edge looming before you, but Max doesn’t let up. He drives into you with an urgency that makes your head spin, his breath hot against your skin as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

It’s too much, and you’re falling again, the orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you sobbing, clinging to him as your body convulses with the aftershocks. But Max doesn’t stop. He keeps going, pushing you through the pleasure, dragging you back up to that peak again and again until you’re trembling, your cries muffled against his chest.

You lose track of time, of everything, your world narrowing down to the feel of him inside you, the sound of his voice in your ear, the taste of his skin on your lips. He’s relentless, driving you to the brink and pulling you back only to shove you over the edge again.

“Please,” you whimper, your voice barely more than a broken sob. “Max, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he says, his tone firm, unwavering. “One more, schatje. Give me one more.”

You don’t know how you can, your body already beyond its limit. But Max’s hand is on your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears as he looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Or,” he adds, his voice deceptively calm, “I’ll put the belt back on. Another three weeks, just like this.”

The threat is enough to cut through the haze of exhaustion, your eyes widening in alarm. You can’t — another three weeks of this would destroy you.

“Max-”

“It’s your choice,” he says, his tone casual as if he’s not asking you to make an impossible decision. “But you’re going to give me one more either way. So what will it be, schatje? Now, or later?”

There’s no real choice, and he knows it. You’re too far gone, too desperate to defy him now. “Now,” you whisper, your voice cracking on the word. “Please, Max. Now.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t waste any time. His hand moves between your legs, finding that sensitive spot with ruthless efficiency, and you scream, the sound torn from your throat as the pleasure crashes through you again. It’s overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity, and you clutch at him, your nails digging into his skin as your body spasms with the force of it.

“Max-” His name is a plea, a sob, but he’s not letting up, driving you harder, faster, until you’re convulsing beneath him, your vision going white as the world falls away.

This one is different. It’s not just an orgasm — it’s a breaking point, the moment where your body gives out completely, surrendering to the relentless onslaught of pleasure. You feel yourself falling, tumbling into an abyss with no end, and Max is the only thing grounding you, his hands on your hips, his voice in your ear, telling you how perfect you are, how much he loves you.

By the time it’s over, you’re spent, completely and utterly spent. Your body is limp, your mind blank, and all you can do is lie there, panting, as the aftershocks ripple through you.

Max slows his movements, his hands gentle now as he soothes you, murmuring soft words of praise as he strokes your hair. “You did so well, schatje,” he whispers, his voice filled with pride. “So good for me.”

You can’t respond, too exhausted to do anything but cling to him, your body trembling with the remnants of everything he’s put you through.

Max brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender now as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s over,” he murmurs, his voice softening. “You did so well.”

You nod weakly, your breath evening out as you slowly come back to yourself, the warmth of his body comforting against your own. He holds you close, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, grounding you in the here and now.

“Rest, schatje,” he whispers, his lips grazing your temple. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

With those words, the last of your tension melts away, and you finally let yourself drift, safe in the knowledge that you’re in his arms, exactly where you belong.

[lucluvr]

good girls get exactly what they want

ft. zhongli, alhaitham, welt, and jing yuan

he thinks you’re the sweetest girl he’s ever had. a man of principle keeps his word: his good girl gets what they want!

afab chubby reader / heavy praise / teasing / fingering / oral (f!receiving) / a lot of sweet words / nipple play / use of “sweetheart, baby, honey, puppy, etc” reverse cowgirl / dumbification (if you squint) / very soft and sweet <3

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zhongli:

humanity was an interesting concept to zhongli. being thousands of years old, living amongst the liyuen people under many aliases, zhongli has had lovers come and go. he loves passionately and deeply. when his tongue ribs circles over your clit, the pressure of his hands on your hips make you whine.

in his thousands of years of experience, zhongli realized each of his lovers found pleasure from different things, however, he’s never had a lover lose their mind so quickly. forked tongue licking up and down your slit as your slick coats his chin messily.

zhongli’s amber eyes gaze into yours as he restrains your wrists against your hips. whines and soft pants fall from your puffy lips (sometimes he bites when he’s excited)

“li! please sto-“ he lets go of one of your wrists as he slides his finger into your mouth. he slides it all the way to the back as your eyes roll back. the gagging sound has zhongli crawling back into the warmth of your cunt.

“shh, just enjoy it, darling.” he’s always put your pleasure before his. your hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pull his fingers out of your mouth, but he slides a finger inside of you and you’re gone.

a muffled whine comes from you and zhongli gazes up at you again. his lips suck on the puffy pearl between your labia. he watches as your eyes roll back again. he feels your thighs cover his ears and he takes this as a sign to. start savoring the taste of you. he hums against your clit, making your soft thighs shake around him. he removes his finger from your mouth, placing it on your hips. his thumb lovingly brushes against the chub of your stomach.

your hands cover your eyes, back arching into him. he feels your muscles contract— you’re close. he opens his eyes to find your hands again. he pins them to your sides as your twitch and convulse around his fingers and tongue. he can feel you holding back.

his fingers curl upwards, making you shoot upright, but he pushes you back down. tears prick at your eyes as you hiccup wetly, begging him to let you cum.

“please, lili!! need to cum…” your words turn into mumbles as your sweet release is so near. “been a good girl, please lili…” your sweet and whiny tone has him smiling and humming against your clit once more.

as your eyes roll back into your skull, white splotches stain your vision and before you know it he’s sent you over the edge. zhongli detaches himself from your cunt, a string of saliva following his lips.

his wet lips kiss your inner thighs, squishing the soft skin under his fingers.

“my good girl,” he says in his baritoned voice. his words send butterflies into your tummy. without any warning his lips secure themselves back onto your clit. you jolt, your legs pushing on zhongli’s shoulder, but he’s quick. he catches your ankle as tears prick at your pretty eyes.

he tuts, kissing your ankles. he trails his kisses up your calf, into the underside of your knees. he pushes your knees to your chest, having you hold them in place. you sniffle as his thick fingers come back to bully your clit.

“so pretty, baby. be good for me, yeah?” you shake your head and whimper.

“too sensitive, ‘li! no ‘mre…” a soft pout appears on your lips. he chuckles and kisses the tears away.

“my sweet girl, you can take it baby. be the good girl i know you are, okay?” his honey coated voice makes your head feel dizzy. he trails kisses down your soft tummy and thighs before finding his rightful spot again. his hands push up your knees again.

his tongue swirls your clit again and his fingers are back to being pushed into your cunt. he curls his fingers against that spongey spot, making you see stars.

zhongli’s dealt with his fair share of bratty lovers who fought tooth and nail about obedience, yet you? you’re his best girl, his sweetheart. no one has ever been as pliant and as sweet as you are to him. he thinks that all good girls should get to cum hundreds of times, and zhongli will do exactly that. he is a god and his word is final. so if he says his sweet baby gets to cum until he gets her brain all jelly— so be it <3

alhaitham:

alhaitham has never found much interest in relationships. he doesnt go out of his way to interact with others, he doesn’t care much for people anyway. he doesn’t need anyone anyway when he has a wife waiting for him at home. the one who makes him chai every morning, wrapping him aloo filled roti parcels for lunch, the one who massages his shoulders when they become far too sore.

he adores his wife and he’s very open about his gratitude for you. it’s become a routine at this point. anytime he is required to stay in the desert for an extended period of time, he demands you to be seated on his face whenever he comes back.

in the words of the acting grand sage, “it is the least i can do for you.” however you think that he does the absolute most. his hooked nose bumping against your clit makes you bite your thumb as you hover over his soft lips. alhaitham grumbles in annoyance. he kisses your shaky inner thighs softly,

“habibi, sit. it’s okay.” he tries to comfort the anxiety you get every time he does this. his thumbs rub comforting circles in your hips, urging you to sit on his face. his mouth waters at the sight if your clit peaking out from your puffy lips.

“dont wna hurt you, haitham.” your lips curl into a frown as you put your weight into your knees. he kisses your inner thigh, biting them gently. to tease you, he blows cool air onto your clit, making you whine. you press on his head, “stop!”

he shakes his head, “please, baby. let me do this for you…you’ve been so good for me, please?” his voice has a slight desperation to it. it’s as if he doesn’t get to taste you on his tongue in the next few seconds he will go insane.

he’s right though. you’ve been incredibly patient with him. you’ve been at his side while he adjusts to his new job, and casually overthrows the government. due to the whole fiasco, he hasn’t had the time or energy to do anything but kiss you. sure it made you a bit sad, but when he found out he gave you the night of your life. and now he’s lying under you practically begging to make you feel so good, who are you to decline?

“but kaveh…” you mutter into your palms. “what if he hears?” you ask him, voice wavering. he sighs as he rubs his nose into your thighs.

“to hell with him. this is my house. if he had a problem, he can move out.” he grumbles against your plump skin. he kisses the skin once more before turning to you. “come on habibti please?”

he scoots you closer to his lips. he leaves the softest kiss on your clit. “promise you won’t break me,” he kisses the swollen bud again. “i’ll make you feel so good, baby. ‘m so sorry. lemme make it up to my good girl, yeah?” he mumbles into your skin. you have half the mind to question if he’s even talking to you.

his tongue peaks out from his lips, gently licking the bud. he then takes a deep breath and goes for it. his free hand parts your lips, his tongue swirling around the bud, dragging down to your hole. he sees you clenching around nothing and he coos softly. he prods two fingers inside your hole. your whines and gasps urge alhaitham on. he curls his fingers so nicely, your body shivers. you grab onto his hair, tangling it between your fingers.

your cunt is so wet and so sensitive. having your husband between your thighs, making you see stars after weeks of needing him makes you cum so quick. you don’t even see it coming. alhaitham drinks down any slick that comes from you, lapping it up like a thirsty dog.

he gently lifts you up, laying you back down on the bed. he stands tall and proud above you, removing his fitted shirt. one of his hands intertwines with yours, making you smile. his hands travel up your body, squeezing your soft flesh under his big hands.

“my pretty wife. my girl,” his lips suck on the soft skin of your waist. he makes you giggle as he prods at your ticklish spots. your sweet laughter makes him smile. “i love your laugh. i love you,” he whispers against your lips before stealing a kiss from you. you happily wrap your legs around his hips and your arms slide up his broad shoulders.

with his free hand, alhaitham unbuckles his belt. he throws it somewhere and unzips his pants. he pulls his cock out from his briefs, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. he teases your clit, tapping the tip against the poor bud.

you whine against his lips and buck your hips against his. he chuckles sweetly. (a noise only you get to hear from the sage) he presses the tip against your hole, making you furrow your brows. it’s a bit of a stretch, alhaitham realizes as he watches your face.

he reaches down to rub your puffy clit again, helping you ease into his cock. he hears you whimper and whine below him and he smiles against your skin. his lips leave a trail of wet kisses and bits down your neck and chest. he kisses around the areola of your chest. he elicits more whines and needy pants from you.

alhaitham leans up, looking down at your body. he gently pins your wrists about your head. his eyes are as soft as cotton. the sweet smile on his lips, the adoration in his eyes and the thin viel of sweat lining his forehead and collarbone make your heart flutter.

he’s gorgeous, tall, smart, handsome. he is the perfect man. he leans back down, kissing you on your lips. he hands leave your wrists, finding a new home on your hips. his thumbs run over the fat of your stomach, making you whine against him.

he smiles, thumbs pressing into the skin. if he had to pick a physical trait of yours he loved the most, it would be that. he pulls away from your lips, kissing down your body. he pays extra attention to your chest and tummy.

in the meantime, he’s been pushing himself slowly into your sweet, warm cunt. he sighs aloud as he sinks himself in. he watches as you rock your hips, needing him. he completely pulls out and then thrusts right back into, making you yelp.

he flips over, pulling you onto his lap. he watches as you bounce on his cock, hand pressed to his chest. you gasp and moan shamelessly as you bounce on his cock. his hands grope your stomach and thighs, squishing the skin between his big hands. he coos out sweet words,

“fuck, you’re gorgeous, mahiya. keep going, baby.” he rubs your clit with his thumb, “use me, baby. do it,” and you do just that. your eyes fill with tears as you curl into alhaitham. you hide your face in his neck, shamelessly moaning. alhaitham feels your cunt clench around his cock.

“there you go, sweetie. use me, honey. come on,” his eyes watch your tits intensely. he leans up, his lips wrapping around the hardened buds.

“oh fuck, haitham! ‘m gna!” you grip onto his shoulders, vision spotting. he feels your cunt clench around him hard and smiles,

“my good girl. you can do it. come on, baby. cum on me, use me.” the coil in your stomach snaps the moment he calls you his good girl. you gasp and sink your nails into his shoulder. alhaitham hisses and rubs your clit a little faster. he pushes you over the edge and your cum hard.

your mouth is agape, but you can’t hear yourself moan. you collapse into alhaitham’s chest, face buried in his neck. with a few more thrusts, he too cums inside you with a deep groan.

he watches as you push yourself off of him and lay on your back beside him. he rolls onto his side, kissing your neck and cheeks. he gets up from your bed, making you look up at him puzzled. he sinks onto his knees as he parts your thighs.

“time to clean up, yeah?”

welt yang:

sitting in the same position for a multitude of hours at a time is a grueling task. you love welt dearly, but this is your least favorite request of his. you impatiently fidget with your fingers, knees starting to feel numb.

the older gentleman sits in front of you, sketching out every curve and dimple in your bare body. your cheeks flush deeply as you avoid eye contact with him. he puts his pencil down before calling out to you,

“darling, could you please put your hands down?” he asks you with the softest smile. the creases around his eyes are ever more evident. shyly, you nod your head. you reluctantly place your hands back in position before staring around the room. he lightly chuckles,

“and look at me as well? i cannot sketch your face if you do not look at me.” he is obviously teasing you, but it’s all lighthearted. your lips pout softly before staring up at him with furrowed brows.

“you can’t remember my face?” your voice comes out meeker than intended. he shakes his head, before beckoning you over. with pins and needles sticking into your limbs, you walk over to welt who coaxes you into his lap.

“of course i remember it. i just want to see it. can you do that for me? be my good girl?” he whispers those words into your ears before kissing your shoulder.

“is that a simple enough task for you, honey?” he jests, his grip on your hips tightening. he begins to run his hands up and down you body. he squeezes the fat between his fingers, his lips kissing down you chest and neck.

you sigh into his touch, finally able to feel some warmth. the ac makes your skin burst into goosebumps. welt smiles as he watches you melt into his touch.

“i prefer you like this actually. having you sitting on my lap instead of in the floor, it’s more my style.” him and his stupid puns. you giggle into his neck, the ends of his hair tickling you face. you twirl the ends with your fingers, smiling widely.

he swivels in his chair, turning towards the bed. he lifts you up, hands holding under your thighs. you yelp, arms coiling around his neck. he softly lays you down on the bed. cooing softly at you. laying on his soft, grey sheets makes your eyes flutter shut.

you paw at his shirt, pulling him closer. you lips graze his chin, leaving kisses down his jawline. he hums softly, adjusting his face to look at you, he kisses you soft lips, his mouth tasting like the orange candy he ate a few moments ago.

his hands run up and down your thighs, parting your legs. he grinds himself against your sticky cunt, brows furrowing in pleasure. his breathing becomes a little ragged. you tug at him again,

“welt please,” your whiny voice, accompanied with the way you run your fingers over his bulge has him keeling. he bends however you tell him to, do whatever you ask of him. he nods happily, pulling down the waistband of his sweats. he kneels between your legs as he runs a finger up and down you slit.

wet and sticky slick coats welt’s fingertips. you jerk your hips against his hand as the rough edges of his palm run over your clit. you whine into the pillow set beside you, fingers gripping onto the sheets.

he happily obliges to your silent wish and sinks his finger into your cunt. you happily moan for him, your walls fluttering around his finger. he groans as he watches his fingers sink into your heat.

he pistols his finger in and out of your cunt, curling it upwards once your slick gets onto his wedding ring. he sinks another finger into you, pulling a groan from you. it’s a bit of a stretch, but welt is a patient man.

“you’ve been such a good girl for me, honey. can you keep still for a bit here too? i’ll reward you, i promise, my little fawn.” your eyes flutter open to gaze at his handsome face. your pupils morph into hearts as you nod your head. he smiles fondly, patting your head with his free hand. “thank you, pup.” <3

jing yuan:

jing yuan’s back sticks to the headboard as his hears ring with the sound of your moans. he watches as you tits bounce in his face, pretty buds begging to be touched. his eyes rolls back ever so slightly when you circle your hips as you ride him. his hand grips your hip, the other attached to your ass.

he hums as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pussy clenching. his thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit. he listens to your whimpers and honey-glazed whines. you sing better than the birds that flock to him, you’re prettier than any person he’s ever seen, you’re so obedient.

being the luofu’s general, jing yuan has learned how to teach others. some people are driven by praise, other by rewards. his reward for you obedience is this: riding him until you’re satisfied. his hand gently cups your nape, bringing you closer to his face. the tip of his nose rubs against yours as he hears the squelches of your bodies.

he becomes astutely aware of how wet and warm you are. he’s very aware of the way your body reacts to his warm hands running up and down your sides. he chuckles at the goosebumps that break out on your skin as he whispers sweet praises in your ears. you curl into his body, shivering like a baby bird. he coos at your reactions,

“aren’t you so sweet, my angel?” he kisses up the side of your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “the sweetest little thing, huh?” his hands pull you impossibly closer to his body, his eyes now trained on where you two connect.

he notices the thick, sticky, white substance that rims the bade of his cock and smiles. “look at me, angel.” he says in that smooth voice of his. you’re too out of it to hear him. jing yuan tucks your hair behind your ears, kissing your wet cheeks.

“darling,” he nips at your ears. he watches the wheels turn in your head as you process his words. your bleary eyes look into his, unfocused and hazy. he grins cheshire, “enjoying yourself?” he asks small and simple questions. you nod your head slightly.

he decides to thrusts his hips up in an attempt to wake you up, and it does just that. he thrusts into your heat swiftly, watching your tits bounce. his pretty lips wrap around the under-stimulated buds, making you gasp.

“yuan,” you say meekly, pussy fluttering around him. he hums at you, his golden eyes looking up. he lets go of your breasts to coo at you once more.

“my precious girl, you’re doing so well.” he kisses your cheeks and lips before resting his back against the headboard once again. he allows you to use him however you please. you’ve been such a good girl, sitting by his feet at his desk and waiting for his attention.

“there ‘ya go, princess. you can do it, sweet girl.” jing yuan smiles <3

© ilyhaitanii - please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my content, and do not repost it to any other platforms.  

[gladiatorcunt]

- A BLACK RAM AND A BLACK EWE | XI.

unable are the loved to die for love is immortality

nay, it is deity. unable they that love - to die

for love reforms vitality into divinity.

cw: kinktober prompt (blood), vampire!aemond, reader has a vagina, reincarnated reader from my first kinktober w/ aemond, body horror & body horror fantasies involving his eye, “bride” mentioned but it’s relating to dracula, not quite modern times as in the immediate present 2024 but at least a millennium after house of the dragon (at least after dracula came out) , reader is intentionally silent, blood loss & hazy vibes you are just going through the motions,

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“What am I to you, sir?”

A fish to be gutted, you’ll be too empty to be whole without me. “The tide that turns in my favor.”

You wear your own freshly spilled blood like a new dress. A gift for being a wandering traveler and a curious historian, Westeros is a country with so much backstory and you’ve spent all your life only scratching the surface. It’s different from the Kings and Queens of the olden days obviously, though those titles remain in use loosely today. You have recurring dreams where you’re one of them, hanging off a prince's arm, tenderly pecking the corner of his dead jeweled eye, and waving to all the people below you.

Roars of an old gargantuan dragon haunt you, when your car engine won’t start, when your tea kettle freaks out, when the world is silent enough to be left alone with your thoughts. You’ve become obsessed because the only connection you feel is to a world that existed almost a thousand years ago.

Dracula, you’ve wandered into this crumbling red castle as a curious academic only to end up as a bride. Perhaps the locks are clicking into place, history repeated, you passed portraits of a royal who bears a more than striking resemblance to you before the decrepit creature looming in the shadows noticed it too.

“Your clothing is still in your chambers, I have each piece cleaned every moon.”

Aemond, your mind whispers you that name, trails bloody kisses from your weeping neck down to your weeping cunt, inhaling the iron musk simmering under your folds.

“Transcendent. It takes me back in time, my rose. So slack and willing too, of course my darling would not require being compelled to spread their legs for their husband.”

He stands upright, swiftly turning your around so your back is flush against the cold stone of the castle wall.

You take initiative, raising your leg to hang your heel on his shoulder, resting the limb against his torso. Aemond curls a hand around the back of your knee, keeping you splayed open in this position even past the point of pain.

He nudges his hard cock between the lips of your cunny, gliding it through your wetness but never plunging inside. The aphrodisiac from his bite would have you eager enough to not need any preparation, but he fingered you with your blood dripping off his fingers anyway. Partly for the sake of keeping your nectar where it belongs and partly because he wants to paint your statuesque form with your crimson, a painter of a single subject. You’re his muse even now, fueling the melancholic isolation instead of the ravenous war.

You whine weakly, irritated because there’s little room to writhe and roll your hips into him. “Please, sir, husband, I-i’m lightheaded, just fuck me already.”

Aemond chuckles and gently parts your folds with the red tip of his cock, giving your pearl a thousand little kisses. He eats with his eye, the scarlet liquid lubing his length and surrounding it as he warms himself in the chubby cradle of your mound. He’s not normally such a messy eater, but reuniting with your beloved after centuries will drive a man of the night to places he would not go with a sword atop his dragon.

“Shh, my love. The creaking doors in your mind will be right as rain in just a moment, this cunt must be starving, just as I am. We understand each other, this delicious little cunny and I.” He rasps into your ear, encouraging you to slide your hands in his long flowing hair by tilting his head back.

You flutter like a moth into a bonfire and create a path of bloodied handprints up his muscular back and into his silver hair. You’re getting it all dirty now, but Aemond closes his eye and moans hoarsely, as if you have given him a great and uncomparable gift.

He’ll ask you to braid it after, the red intertwining with the near white, your husband now the last weirwood tree in a Godswood.

You project the thought of squirting in his empty eye socket, sitting on his face and positioning your pussy right over the gaping wound. To feel the scarred flesh squelch and twitch, only seeing your cunt in its shadow. Charred black, the bits of wriggling skin remind you of burnt bacon. You both are silent then too, preferring to wade in the waters of comfortable silence because what words are needing for this consummation other than screams?

Aemond is not easy to provoke, in truth, it takes years after years of relentless and snide jabs and barbs for him to go off the deep end into the God’s Eye. However, you have been sunken and ghostly longer than he had been poked at by his brother or the strong bastard dyad. The moment he caught the scent of the ripe fruit in the middle of your thighs was his last brush with sanity.

You wail when he plunges to the depths of you without any warning, only a guttural cross between a hiss and a snarl. Aemond squishes you into the wall of what was once the throne room, where he had dreamed of taking you completely naked and unrestrained until all the new citizens of the kingdom were your children.

You only had the one before the dance, before you were slain like a sheep devoured by an uncaring beast.

“No matter.” He declares aloud. “What better conception tale could we spin for our offspring than this, my rose? With a cunt as tight as yours, strangling me in the same godsdamned fashion, I fear it will be quite short.”

Your blood sticks his skin to yours, the wet smacks of your chests pushing and pulling apart like magnets compete with the squelches his cock makes in your bloody cunt. You thread your fingers through his hair, increasingly strengthening your grip to entice him into a violent kiss.

New blood gushes from your bitten lips and oh if you knew the humiliation Prince Aemond would have felt back then to be lapping at them, hungrier than a mangy dog and grotesquely beautiful. Your head spins, wobbling back and forth on the precipice of a dark cliff. He laughs, genuine in his happiness as he places your head in the crook of his neck.

“Do not fret, I shan't feel a thing, beloved. I crave your teeth in my neck like nothing else.” He coos, an order and not a suggestion.

Your husband's blood runs down his body onto yours when you bluntly bite down after a few clumsy tries, aged wine mixing with the freshly harvested. You feel the burn in your stretched leg as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck you back into the wall, so you teasingly apply kitten licks to the minor bite wound.

You’re making a gruesome mess, bone deep groans and swathed in life’s essence. Aemond’s cock spears you like he’s truly out to kill you, stabbing into your cervix with a passionate rhythm. The gory sight of your combined blood trickling down to the floor from his pendulous balls is driving him to madness. Through the shallow connection he can sense that the earlier blood loss and newly regained high from his devotion have you at your peak.

“There you are, my treasure back where they belong. In my home, on my cock, your magnificent body is bleeding dry for me.”

The hand not holding your leg grasps onto your bouncing breast, his talons scrape your pebbled nipple, pinching the bud as a means of fastening the learned brutality of his affection with a shiny bow.

“This is the wedding in the traditions of my valyrian ancestors that my grandsire never let us have, is that not greatly amusing?” Aemond jokes as you lick into his mouth to harass his fangs.

Your mind is lost in the sanguinary love making that follows, snatched by the claws of a greedy dragon.

A soul born in winter, never to flower in the spring.

[vickytaa]

Going to this party was a mistake. I knew it, but I didn't want to admit it.

Seeing Chris so happy and so... relaxed after everything that's happened between the two of us, oh my god, it hurt.

How could he be so... calm?

I haven't been able to have even a minute of rest where I didn't torture myself for ruining "ours."

But I was lying to myself. There was no us, there was no “ours.” It was just my imagination, my foolish heart falling in love with the forbidden.

Chris had warned me about this, because he always knew what would happen, he knew me. But why did I just get carried away by the moment? Why didn't I stop when it started to hurt?

It's like I'm twisting the knife inside myself all the time.

My heart had already stopped the moment Chris got up from our my bed, saying that we should never have done this.

My eyes were once again filled with tears of pain. Crystal tears. The words that came out of his mouth, the moments when I innocently thought there was something between us, everything we went through together, were running through my mind. Rather, they lived there.

But to see him like this? Laughing and having fun with his friends as if he hadn't broken someone's heart a few days ago?

I thought it meant something to him, that there was something more than just fucking. But no. There never was. And there never will be.

And I should have understood that, but I couldn't really wrap my head around it. That's the problem.

I am the problem.

Unable to take my attention off of him, his eyes met mine, and for a second I thought he could see beyond my red, watery eyes, beyond the words I once said, beyond everything. He could see me.

But it didn't matter anymore, because he already knew everything about me. There was nothing more to know.

I walked through the sweaty bodies of people, trying to find a way out of this horrible place. Trying to find a way out of this pain.

The cold air froze my thoughts, this was my way out. My accelerated breathing slowly returned to its normal rhythm.

The tears slowly came out. The pain in my chest was getting stronger than last night.

"Y/n..." A familiar voice stopped time.

Chris grabbed my arms and turned me around to face him. It broke him into a thousand pieces to see me like this, knowing that he was the reason for all of this.

"I just... I just don't understand, Chris! I can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone." My sobs added to the broken feeling in my voice.

"I guess you never meant what you said that night." My mind went back to the moment when Chris said that I was very important to him, that he could never hurt me. Never.

Chris stretched out his arms trying to hug me to calm my crying, while I pushed him with the last of my strength, trying to get away from him.

"No! Don't take me with you anymore!" I tried to act strong by pushing him away, only proving that I wasn't.

Chris could have done whatever he wanted with me, but he just stood there. He wouldn't leave no matter how much I begged him to leave. Because he and I both knew it wasn't true.

"I hate you because... even though you're killing me, I need you... I need you like the air I breathe." The words were out of my mouth before I could process them.

I couldn't think what I was saying, my mind was so damaged.

"Shh" Chris tried to silence me, knowing this is hurting us both.

Moving away wasn't the easiest decision, but it was the best one for both of us. Or so Chris thought.

"I need you, Chris." My voice was getting quieter and quieter, even though I was trying to scream with all my might.

Chris's eyes matched mine, filled with tears, releasing the pain he once felt but never wanted to show.

My cheek was pressed tightly against Chris's chest. His arms were wrapped around me as best they could, trying to keep me close, thinking, knowing that if he let go I would run away, just like he did.

My mouth released, as low as a sigh, my last prayer before breaking, "You- I... I need you"

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Ten

Day: Saturday, November 4th Time: 12:20 PM EST

"This story is about Cass and Luther, isn't it? Luther said he could send me back to Cass. I gave him a secret to make sure he wouldn't." "And he told someone," Neil guessed. "No." Andrew tapped his fingers a little faster, an agitated rhythm completely at odds with the mocking smile on his lips. "That's too easy. These kinds of secrets are not given out lightly. You know that. We calculate collateral damage and escape routes. We plan and brace for the reaction and fallout. But Luther did not tell. He chose to not believe me at all. And that's a thousand times worse, you see." "That depends on the secret," Neil said. "True." Andrew let go of Neil and wheeled away. "Maybe it comes as a surprise to you, Neil, but I am not a very trusting person. If I tell a man the sky is blue and he tells me I am wrong, I am not inclined to give him a second chance. I see no reason to." "So did Luther not believe you or did he say you were wrong?" Neil asked. "There's a significant difference between the two." "Oh." Andrew half-turned to face him again. "Sometimes I forget you are sharper than you look." Neil struggled with his memory, knowing the answer was right out of reach. He thought about Higgins' visit and Nicky's parents, and then Neil remembered sitting across from Andrew on a bench in the locker room to ask about Higgins' first phone call. He'd thought Andrew's parting words strange but he hadn't understood at the time. He wasn't sure he'd drawn the right conclusions now but it was worth a shot. "He said it was a misunderstanding." The way Andrew went so perfectly still, if only for a second, told Neil he was right. "Shh," Andrew said, soft like he was reassuring a cornered animal. "Shh, don't say that. I hate the sound of that word. I warned you once so you'd know better than to use it again. Why would you risk it?" "Andrew," Neil started. "No." Andrew didn't raise his voice, but he didn't have to for Neil to hear the warning in it. If Neil pushed the matter any further in the wrong direction Andrew would shut down and this conversation was over for good. Neil grasped at straws, looking for the right words to say to keep Andrew talking. Maybe Andrew was right and Nicky's parents would never accept him as he was, but Nicky needed to try.

Art used with permission by Karasawr. Thank you @karasawr!

[noforkingclue]

Desperation

Summary: The end times are near and Crowley has come to you with a proposition.

Author's Note: decided to publish this as it was sitting in my WiP folder for too long and since I've also started re-watching Good Omens I thought now was as good as time to publish it!

You always knew when Crowley and/or Aziraphale were in your flat. Call it an instinct that developed from knowing them for over thousands of years. Which was why it was so surprising to see Crowley standing in the middle of your flat without any prior warning.

You paused when you saw the demon standing there and you carefully shut the door behind you. He twitched at the sound but didn’t turn around. You slowly made your way towards him, nervous about what was going to happen. You frowned briefly at the unfamiliar feeling coiling in the pit of your stomach, it had been years since he had made you feel like that.

“Crowl-“

“Everything’s fucked.”

You blinked at Crowley’s sudden outburst. While you’d heard him swear before it wasn’t that usual. You winced as you heard the sound of cracking wood and looked down, realising that he was gripping your table so hard that he was splintering the wood.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, worried about your friend as well as the future of your table. It was an antique after all.

“Have a cup of tea and tell me what’s happened.”

“What’s happened?” Crowley let out a bark of laughter, “What’s happened is the world’s ending and Hell knows that all of this,” he spun around and waved his hands about, “Is because of me! I misplaced the antichrist and now they’re coming.”

“Oh.”

“So I’m leaving.”

“That’s sensible.”

“And I want you to come with me.”

You froze, midway through making that cup of tea you promised. You looked at Crowley out of the corner of your eye. He walked over to you and put a hand over yours, forcing you to lower the kettle.

“It isn’t safe anymore,” he said, “Everything is going to get destroyed. Hell and Heaven are going to war and it isn’t going to be pretty. We can escape. Be safe.”

“What about Aziraphale?”

Crowley, who had rested his forehead against your shoulder, tensed behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against him.

“He think he can stop this,” he muttered, “He isn’t coming.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly you were spun around and pushed roughly against the counter. You gasped in shock and Crowley tilted your chin so you were looking directly into his eyes. It was the first time you had properly seen him and you could see the desperation etched across his face. His sunglasses were gone and you were forced to look into his yellow eyes. He grabbed your chin and forced your head in place.

“Come with me,” he said quietly, “It’ll just be the two of us.”

“But what about-“

“Shh, don’t think about him.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Crowley seized the opportunity to press his lips against yours. You squeaked in surprise as Crowley wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you roughly against him. You put your hands against his chest but found them trapped between your bodies. Crowley broke the kiss but remained close. You felt his lips brush against yours and he said,

“Just think about me.”

“And the world.”

“We’ll be safe.”

“We’ll be on the run.”

“We’ll have each other.”

“And Azira-“

Crowley covered your mouth with a hand. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“I thought I told you not to think about him.”

He removed his hand and brushed your cheek with the back of it. He smile softly and his gaze dropped back down to your lips.

“If Zira thinks that there’s hope then there must be.”

“So you’re choosing him?”

Crowley shook his head and gave you a bitter smile. He stepped away and you gave him a pained look. You took half a step towards him but he put his hands up to stop you.

“I understand,” he said, “one last hurrah.”

“Crowley-“

“It was fun while it lasted.”

“We can still beat this.”

“No we can’t.”

And with that you were once again left alone with only your hope to keep you company.

[clonedchaos]

𝐼𝓈 𝒶 𝒟𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒜𝓇𝓂𝓎 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐸𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃 𝐼𝓃𝓀 𝒪𝓃𝑒?

˜”°•.˜”°• Summary •°”˜.•°”˜:

Audrey and Bendy hatch a plan to shower their older brother in ducks for his birthday.

The Ink Demon… doesn’t quite know how to register the gesture yet.

🅁🄰🅃🄸🄽🄶: G/PG

𝓐𝓞3 𝓥𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷:

Author’s Note:

Happy Late Christmas and Holiday’s everyone! This originally started out as a joke post, but I ended up making it a bit wholesome and cute towards the end. It has been a bit rough for me lately, so I’m glad I’m able to share a feel-good one shot. I hope it brightens your day! Take care. <3

This may be a tad OOC, but it’s just my interpretation of their sibling dynamic.

“Okay, that’s the last of ‘em,” Audrey concluded, setting the last cardboard box atop her dresser with a huff of exertion.

Bendy was right by her side, shoving one of the boxes along the carpet. His little feet rotated like a spinning clock as he tried to progress forward. “There! Got it!” He claimed and promptly collapsed atop the box.

"I do not understand why you declined my help,” the Ink Demon rumbled from her other side. He leaned down to sniff one of the boxes, his breathing coming out in gentle gurgles.

"Hey, hey,” Audrey quickly moved to gently bat him away, a grin perking up the edges of her lips. “Claws off the goods. You’ll find out what it is soon enough.”

Audrey’s heart fluttered in her chest. These boxes, as insignificant as they may seem, housed a special gift. One Audrey and Bendy were practically bursting at the seams to show off. No, not yet… She needed to be patient.

Bendy poked at the duct tape sealing the cardboard flaps. Him too.

The Ink Demon muttered something under his breath and sat back on his haunches, his horns gently grazing the colorful lanterns hanging up on her bedroom ceiling. Hues of purples, blues, and blacks produced a makeshift galaxy above their heads. Just another gift from her brothers.

"Secrets are not becoming of an angel,” Ink replied shortly.

"Good thing I’m not one, hmm?” Audrey asked, reaching out to scratch him on the side of the head. He leaned into her touch despite himself. Obviously, he was making it a point to pout. Audrey thought it made him very puppy-like, which was definitely not at all what he was going for.

"Hey! Me too!” Bendy was suddenly right by her side, pulling on her pant leg. He looked up with pleading eyes. 

Audrey pat him between the horns. “Okay, okay. You both want attention.”

"I do,” Ink purred, holding his chin high. “I am a king.”

"So how about I whip us up something to eat? Befitting of a king, of course,” Audrey suggested. Truth be told, it was dinner time… but Ink kept giving the boxes a second glance. She just hoped she’d be able to keep them from him until tomorrow.

~ 

“How long do you think this will take?”

"An hour at most, if we’re quick.”

“Won’t he wake up?”

"After the feast we had for breakfast? He might as well be in a food coma.” Audrey couldn’t help but laugh. She hoisted the box off the dresser and tore off the duct tape. Several miniature ducks shone like hidden treasure inside, each with their own unique accessories and colors. Bendy opened up his own box with the same result.

"Aww, look at them,” He picked one up and gave it a gentle squeeze. A shrill squeak pierced the still air.

"Shh, quiet, remember?” Audrey put a finger to her lips.

Bendy dropped the duck back into the box and gave her a military salute. “Aye aye, Captain!”

Audrey hitched the box back into her arms. What were they to do with a thousand or so miniature ducks? There wasn’t a swimming pool sized bathtub around, that was for sure…

Audrey and Bendy found their older brother in his usual napping spot. The living room curtains had been drawn back to let a shaft of sunlight wash over the slumbering demon. Satin, plush pillows poked out from beneath his enlarged talons. A quilted blanket had been snuggly wrapped around him— courtesy of Audrey. It gently rose and fell in time with his breathing. Good. He was still asleep.

Time to get to work.

Audrey quietly set down the box and proffered Bendy a curt nod. The little imp smiled. That was his cue.  One by one, the ducks were placed on the carpet. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she placed a few of them in a closer proximity to Ink. Please please please don’t wake up. She bit her lip as she chanced putting one a few inches from his hands. It was minute in comparison, with an even more adorable cowboy hat and bright billed smile.

Bendy added more ducks to the outskirts of the ever growing circle. Soon, the boxes were empty… and Ink was surrounded in about 200 of the waterfowl, like a shrine to be admired.

The little imp beside her looked about ready to implode. “He’s gonna be soooooo stoked!”

"I sure hope so. This practically cost a whole month’s rent!” Audrey light heartedly whispered back. Her eyes drifted toward the hallway. “Ready for round two?”

The kitchen was the next subject of interest for Audrey. Bendy took to lining up the ducks in the hall, a not so discrete hint on where Ink needed to go next.

Two ducks sat together on the counter. Another used her radio as a nesting spot. Audrey opened the wooden cupboards and hid a handful inside. How long would it take for them to clean all this up? We’ll be finding them for months, Audrey answered herself as she set a duck wearing a pink sweater and scarf into the refrigerator.

She leaned over and her hand met empty air. Glancing down, she found the box had been emptied. Third box down.

Bendy came into the kitchen, only his horns poking up over the edge of his package. Make that four.

"It’s all set, Rey,” Bendy concluded. She still couldn’t see his face, but she could practically feel the enthusiasm pouring out of him like an active volcano. “What next?”

Audrey picked up the box and set it against her hip. “Now? Now, we wait.”

~

The Ink Demon stirred, his mind slipping from his jumbled dream and back into reality. Pity, it was just getting good. A glowing sun warming his skin, the cool grass beneath his talons, a wide open plain; all for him to roam and explore. Luxuries like this were never affordable in the ink realm.

His jaws involuntarily opened as a yawn escaped him. He could feel the quilt on his back, sheltering him like a little cocoon. Perhaps he should settle back down? If he was lucky, he could slip back into his dreams.

His fingers grazed something unfamiliar.

Lifting his head from the pillow, the Ink Demon found a duck sitting in the gap between his hands. It smiled with soulless eyes, almost in admirance… if it wasn’t an inanimate object.

Wait a minute. There were twenty more. Scratch that, he was surrounded by the little things. Mallards, wigeons, golden eyes, pintails; they were all easily recognizable. His head whipped about, confusion overtaking his exhaustion. They were everywhere, like an infestation had suddenly crawled out of the woodworks.

With a groan, he stood and shook off his quilt. His fingers inadvertently cradled the cowboy duck as he made his way into the kitchen. He shouldn’t be too surprised to find ducks lounging about the kitchen.

"I wonder whose bright idea this was…” Ink grumbled lowly to himself. It wasn’t that it was annoying, no, he frankly just didn’t deem the new decor to be sensical. Were his siblings pranking him? Hmm, he did turn the shower water pink last week. Audrey hadn’t been quite fond of the gesture, but Bendy had gotten a good kick out of it after seeing Audrey’s hair temporarily dyed. Perhaps she was attempting to get back at him?

"You’ll have to try harder than that, sister,” He purred triumphantly and opened the fridge door. Several ducks lay hidden inside, either nesting amongst apples, hiding behind condiments, or residing atop last night’s leftovers. What was Audrey making, a duck cult?

He elected to grab last night’s leftovers and stepped back. His hoof squashed rubber. A loud, high pitched squeak pierced his eardrums. The ink rose along his spine as he recoiled. Another duck shrieked in protest.  “Little nuisances…” The Ink Demon muttered lowly, finally sidestepping the other ducks sitting on the tiled floor. How had such insignificant creatures confounded him? They weren’t real!

Flustered, he abandoned his lunch in the kitchen and headed in a flurry for Audrey’s room. The cowboy duck was still grasped in his oversized claws, like a caterpillar snug inside a cocoon.

He grabbed the handle and tossed the door open. Bendy was on the floor, kicking his legs back and forth as he played with an assembly of dinosaur figurines. Audrey sat atop her purple satin sheets, cradled in pillows with a book in hand. The two looked up at his grand entrance.

A catish grin sprouted across Audrey’s cheeks. “About time you woke up, sleepyhead.”

”We thought you were in a food coma,” Bendy added with a series of high pitched squeaks. Ink never realized he sounded an awful lot like a squeaky toy until now.

Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, he thrust the rubber duck into view. “What is the meaning of this?”

”Ah, so you noticed our new roommates? I hope they settle in just fine,” Audrey answered, bookmarking her page and setting it down as she stood up.

”They already promised to play dinosaurs with me later,” Bendy claimed, waving a Stegosaurus in the air.

The Ink Demon looked between them with a faint growl. What was he missing here? 

“I already crushed one for getting under my feet,” He retorted.

“What?!” Bendy shrieked and dropped the figure. He struggled to grab it before it hit the ground, then pulled it close to his chest as if it were his prized possession.

Audrey snorted in amusement. “In all actuality, do you like them?” She picked a princess duck up off the nightstand and held it out with open palms. “We figured it would be a nice present.”

“Present?” Ink echoed faintly. “This is not a prank of vengeance?”

Audrey raised an eyebrow. “No, not at all. We did this for you.”

He tilted his head with a thoughtful rumble. Audrey was a terrible liar, only coming second to Bendy. Maybe she was saying that just to trick him? No, that didn’t sound like it. “Why?” was all he asked.

“Because it’s your—“

“Birthday! It’s your birthday!” Bendy interrupted, energy exploding out of him like a rocket.

”Birth… day?” He repeated the foreign phrase. 

“Well, a birthday is a commemoration of when you were born. We celebrate how much you’ve grown, your accomplishments, and who you are as a person.” She was standing before him now, looking up with a soft smile. It seemed like just yesterday he was pursuing her through the studio. Audrey panicked at the mere echo of his footsteps, and he could still remember the smell of fear in the air. Now? Now she looked at him quite differently.

He turned his head and mulled over those words. “The day I was made is not one to need recognition,” He firmly growled.

Audrey and Bendy gave one another a shared glance. What were they saying to one another? Curiosity and indignation stoked a fire in his chest. Secrets, always secrets. And there were no Dark Puddles loitering about to fill him in.

”We would like to recognize it,” Audrey eventually clarified. “With you. We figured we could do something special for you, no matter how small it may be.”

”Mhmm! An entire day to celebrate you! Isn’t it wonderful?” Bendy rocked back and forth on his heels.

The Ink Demon faltered and angled his gaze toward the duck lying in his palms. Celebrating him? Years ago he was nothing but a burden to those who created him. Even worse, he was a beast roaming the studio; forever bound to this realm as a prisoner. One he ruled over, sure, but never a place where he could share in the company of others.

”Why? Why bother?” He asked, sounding distant. His finger gently grazed the plastic duck’s hat.

”You’re our kin,” Audrey answered, her features softening. “I know how Joey treated you before. Unlike my father… I want to set things right. You deserve peace. You deserve recognition. And you deserve to be happy.”

”Even if that happiness is exhibited through hundreds of tiny rubber duckies,” Bendy added. His grin didn’t seem like it could stretch any further, but somehow the little imp managed.

Finally, his gaze pulled away from the gift and over to his siblings. His emotions were tangled like an overgrown bramble thicket, a common occurrence when it came to Audrey and Bendy. Despite himself, he felt at peace. Had he ever quite felt this before? Why were things so complicated?

”Thank you,” Ink finally choked out, the phrase sounding exotic on his tongue.

Audrey held out her arms. Ink nodded, allowing the coming gesture permission to unfold. The woman stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Ink copied her action, feeling a little out of his element in partaking in such a tender moment.

”Love you, Ink. Happy Birthday,” Audrey smiled.

Bendy happily squeaked and clung to his leg like a stubborn koala. “Love you, big brother!”

Embarrassment flooded him, causing him to inadvertently blurt out, “Love you too.” It was so quiet, he was certain a mouse couldn’t have overheard it.

Both his siblings looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted an extra head. Flustered, he grumbled, “Do not relay this moment to a single soul.”

Audrey revealed another catish grin. He couldn’t tell whether he should be impressed or worried at the now frequent look. 

“Sorry? What was that? Did you say you love us, dear brother?” She snickered.

”He did, he did!” Bendy chirped.

The Ink Demon scooped Bendy off the ground and ruffled Audrey’s hair until it looked like a frazzled bird’s nest. Bendy reached for the duck and gave it a squeeze. “I did no such thing,” Ink said, his voice halfway drowned out by the shrill squeak.

”Daw, you definitely said it. What a gentleman.” Audrey was suddenly scooped up into Ink’s other arm. She yelped in surprise. Bendy remained happy as a lark.

”What was this about admirance again?” Ink changed the subject out of embarrassment rather than irritation. The aspect of this day was becoming more fascinating by the minute. If they wanted to share in this ceremony, what was the harm in letting them? It felt… nice.

”Well, the ducks were your main gift. Though, I stashed a cake under my bed. Red velvet,” Audrey revealed.

”My favorite. You remembered?” He asked in brief astonishment.

”You’re not the only one in the family with a touch of clairvoyance,” Audrey replied, voice laced with humor. She pat the Ink Demon on the side of the head.

”Audrey said you light candles on your birthday. And when you blow them out, you make a wish,” Bendy piped up, languidly kicking his legs back and forth. 

“Afterwards, I figured we could take a trip down to the pond. See the sights, maybe feed some ducks,” Audrey offered.

”I would like to see some geese,” Ink rumbled thoughtfully. It wasn’t every day he could see the world outside Audrey’s apartment— not outside the pages of The Illusion of Living, at least.

”Geese? The ones around here hate people… and chase them if they deem necessary,” Audrey murmured and shuddered, as if reliving that particular moment.

“Precisely why I would like to see them. We have much in common. They have spunk.”

Bendy squeaked the cowboy duck again. “C’mon then! Let’s get a move on! Isn’t that right, Sheriff Quackerson?” He held the duck up to his face and stared at it intently. “Quack!”

The Ink Demon sighed. Looks like his little brother had taken a liking to the ducks. He didn’t need the duck at the moment… not all of them at least. Perhaps he could get away with stashing a handful in his lair. That would be nice. They were oddly adorable, after all. Not that he would openly admit it.

”Cake it is.” Ink set his siblings back on the ground.

Bendy smiled up at Audrey and kept squeezing the duck. Audrey lightly giggled and turned to Ink before replying, “Quack!”

He cocked his head in confusion. Okay, now they were just pulling his leg. “I will not participate in such activities.”

Audrey poked him on the snout and stuck out her tongue. “Quack?”

”Quack quack,” Bendy nodded earnestly.

Ink sighed once more and drew his hand down his face. “… May we eat? … Uh… Quack?”

Audrey and Bendy clapped, like they had just witnessed a Broadway performance. Oh, the frivolous things he did for these two. And yet, somehow, he really wouldn’t have it any other way.

[nonsenseafterdark]

Day One: Thigh Riding

Characters: Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Word Count: 932

Warnings: None

Notes: You can also read it on AO3

Gary struggled with intimacy, specifically when it came to reaching his climax. He had no issues with sex altogether or being vulnerable, and he adored Kyle with the passion of a thousand suns, but after a few sessions of being unable to orgasm, he was beginning to feel ashamed and broken. Granted, the relationship was relatively new to them, and given the high stress of their careers, his inability to climax could only be narrowed down to simply being under a lot of pressure. But Gary ended up putting a lot of his focus onto Kyle whenever they had moments of intimacy and vulnerability. If he couldn’t get off, all he could do to alleviate the awkwardness was to make his partner feel good, and it was something he could be happy about. 

But for tonight, Kyle had requested to try something different, and the two would find themselves laying on their sides, limbs tangled in each other and lips locked onto one another. Eventually, he had slipped his thigh right in between Gary’s legs, his exposed cock hardening against him and earning a soft moan out of his mouth. Kyle took a moment to break off their kiss, grazing his lips along the other man’s jaw until he reached the shell of his ear.

“I just want you to take your time, alright?” Kyle whispered, nibbling on Gary’s earlobe, “Do whatever makes you feel good, don’t worry about me, and don’t think about anything but this...”

Anxiety replaced pleasure as Gary almost froze around the other man’s thigh. For a task that required absolutely no pressure, he was already feeling quite a bit of it. Kyle seemed to notice his hesitancy, to which he just rested his hands gently around his frame, one on his hip, and the other soothing the side of his face. 

“Look at me…” Kyle gently ordered, thumb brushing over his cheek, “It’s only me, Gary. It’s just us, and no one else.”

Gary almost pouted in awe as he examined the patience and love in his partner’s eyes. How could he be so lucky to have someone like him in his life? He nodded before Kyle pulled him in for another slow-paced kiss, and as he sighed into his mouth, he began to experimentally roll his hips against his thigh. Gary could feel himself hardening all over again, repeating the action and moaning softly. 

Kyle hummed pleasantly, his hand moving from his face to trail down his chest, brushing tenderly over his nipple. Meanwhile, his other hand rested protectively on his hip, occasionally moving off to caress his thigh. 

“Mm, I love how you touch me…” Gary mumbled against his lips, gasping out after as his cock ached with pleasure. The feeling almost had him curling forward, moving to wrap his arms around Kyle’s frame as he moved his hips a bit quickly. 

“That feel good?” Kyle grinned, now settling his hand on Gary’s back to steady himself while moving the other to grope at his ass. 

“Keep doing that, please.”

Gary’s legs tightened around the other man’s thigh as he buried his moans into his shoulder, and Kyle sighed into his ear, murmuring encouraging praises and pressing his leg up further. Gary’s grip around Kyle was desperate and his movements got sloppier and sloppier. His climax was so near as arousal continued to build up in his groin. He was so close, and yet he couldn’t reach it. He sobbed out as the thought of this being another failed session crossed his mind. 

“I can’t…!” Gary cried, his movements slowing down, “I can’t…!”

“Shh, yes you can, baby,” Kyle murmured calmly, “Focus on how you feel…”

He followed this up with more tender touches against the sensitive parts of Gary’s body–His nipples, the slight curve of his waist, yet he avoided his throbbing cock. Gary let out a tense moan, almost begging aloud for Kyle to touch him there until he kept that thought to himself. What else could he do to him? Stroke him slowly with one hand while kissing at his neck, or he could take him into his mouth, suck him slowly while teasing the tip. He could even fuck him slowly, kissing at his ear the same way he was now while murmuring whispers of encouragement. The build up of satisfaction was back again, only this time Gary chased it all the way as he focused on the way he rubbed his cock against Kyle’s thigh, the way that Kyle touched him and talked to him softly. 

“Oh fuck…!” Gary gasped out tensing entirely, as a wave of pleasure shot through his entire body. But he didn’t stop, thrusting his hips against Kyle’s leg as he held him protectively and talked him through his orgasm. Ropes of cum shot across his thigh, and even as overstimulation settled in, Gary continued to grind against him. Kyle rubbed his hips gently, humming pleasantly as he trembled against him. Gary eventually came to a slow stop, breathing heavily as his hips twitched against his partner’s thigh. When he was finally able to move, he raised his head just enough to kiss lazily at Kyle’s lips, moaning softly against him. 

“You did so well,” Kyle smiled against his lips, “So proud of you…”

Gary laughed exhaustively against him, sucking at his bottom lip before breaking off and relaxing against him for a moment. Coming down from his orgasm moments later, he eventually found the energy to roll Kyle onto his back while straddling on top of him. After all, the evening still wasn’t over yet.

[mimisempai]

Look at you, you're gorgeous

Summary

Some words said thousands of years ago leave their mark, but what about when they're repeated once again with feelings...

Notes

The one where Aziraphale no longer has any reason to be jealous of a nebula.

On Ao3

Rating G -  587 words

Aziraphale came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, drying his hair with another.

"Still trying to do things the human way, Angel?"

Aziraphale turned his head to his lover lying on the bed and replied with a shrug, "After all this time, you know, don't you?"

Crowley nodded and continued to look at him as he finished drying his hair.

What he hadn't anticipated was that the movement would cause the towel around his waist to unravel and he didn't have time to react before the towel slid to the floor.

Despite the intimacy he and Crowley shared, he still felt a little self-conscious and slightly embarrassed by his body, so he immediately reached down to pick up the towel.

Crowley protested, "Oh no, Angel, don't deprive me of this lovely sight.

Aziraphale chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Idiot." and was about to continue his movement to pick up the towel. 

But in one swift movement Crowley had risen from the bed and beaten him to it, now standing close in front of him, towel in hand.

The demon placed his hand on the angel's bare hip and said in a low voice, "Look at you, you're gorgeous."

At these words, which should have pleased him, Aziraphale froze and hissed through his teeth, "Why are you making fun of me?

"What?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Aziraphale abruptly grabbed the towel and, holding it in front of him like a shield, replied, "You said that before, remember?"

Crowley, increasingly confused, repeated, "What?"

Aziraphale retorted, "When you created your nebula, you said those very words in an absolutely delighted tone. To it. Not to me. I, who wasn't looking at you at the time, thought - foolishly, I admit - that you were addressing me."

Crowley couldn't help laughing before he countered, "You're so clever, Angel, but sometimes you're really silly, you know?"

Stopping his lover who was beginning to get angry, Crowley grabbed the towel from the angel's hand and dropped it to the floor. Then cupping Aziraphale's face between his hands, he said softly, "Yes, I was addressing the nebula, but today, at this moment, it's you I'm looking at, it's you I find as beautiful as my stars, you're gorgeous, Angel."

He pressed a tender kiss to the angel's lips, then slid his hands over his shoulders before turning him around and pushing him forward.

"Crowley! What are you..."

"Shh, Angel, I want to show you something."

With his hands on the angel's shoulders, Crowley led him all the way to the mirror on the wardrobe, and when they were in front of it, he saw that Aziraphale was looking everywhere but at the mirror. So, from behind, he slid his hands from the angel's shoulders to his head, forcing him to look straight ahead. Then he whispered in his ear, "Look at you, you're really gorgeous."

Aziraphale shook his head and the demon replied, "Yes, you are," before turning the angel around so he could wrap his arms around him. 

"I'll keep telling you until one day you believe me."

Aziraphale, a smile forming on his lips, asked softly, "Even if it's for eternity?"

Crowley brought his face close and said softly, "I'm patient, you know that, don't you?"

Aziraphale chuckled softly before his laughter was stifled by the pressure of the demon's lips. Crowley made the kiss linger as he pulled him towards the bed, intent on using his lips and hands to show his angel just how gorgeous he was to him.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love - Series post S2

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[hopeforkitten]

There's no time to explain, Tav eats marshmallows from Raphael's claws and then kisses him.

"Did you study the art of chess so hard to ask me for this?"

Their game with Tav finally ended with her victory and they announced their sweet little wish.

"That's exactly how it is."

Tav giggled as she walked away from the bed where Raphael was left alone with a chessboard.

"Princess, it seems to me that for the Raphael family this is something comparable to blasphemy."

Now Haarlep materialized behind him, lazily sinking onto the sheets and not opening his eyes.

"Then he'll have to commit this sin,"

Tav was already heading back to them, taking a small basket out of the closet.

"She keeps it in my house again."

Raphael wailed, stroking his forehead heavily with his hand. But he didn't have time for a full gesture. Tav approached and abruptly lowered the basket into the place of the board, which barely managed to disappear by the will of the now irritated Raphael.

"An unreasonable creature,"

He snorts.

"Hellfire has been available to devils and a bunch of other creatures for thousands of years, surely any blasphemy has been performed with it during this time"

Tav lets go of the basket handle and jumps back onto the bed, so that one leg is tucked under her and the other hangs to the floor.

The girl looks into the basket without even wasting time enjoying the devil's displeasure. The aroma of fresh food reaches the sensitive noses of everyone present. Tav frowns a little, finally considering his actions.

"We'll need wine for something, but so that you don't have time to change your mind, there's a faster option."

Inside the basket, she unwraps a parchment bag and a new smell, sweetness, escapes from it. Tav takes out a small white piece, somewhat checking its elasticity by looking at Raphael.

"A hand, please,"

Raphael reluctantly holds out his hand, not expressing any interest in his observation. Tav impales a white piece on two claws and shapes the hand so that the heat from the center of the palm rises to the unexpected guest on the nails. (it looks like a half-heart gesture)

"Come on, give me a flame"

Tav pulls away, it seems that stars sparkle in her eyes while she hypnotizes his hand. Raphael sighs and a greenish light flashes on his hand. The white cloud quickly darkens and no sooner does it stop than it turns black.

"Well, it's burned out,"

he said, turning his half-closed eyes back to Tav.

"Shh, that's how it should be."

Tav says and approaches the hand with his face, biting off half of the burnt sweetness, the white and soft contents do not last long after it. The girl closed her eyes for a second, tasting and mumbling with pleasure. Such a gesture finally makes Haarlep look with one eye and turn to them. Tav repeats the movement and carefully takes the rest of the sweetness from Raphael's claws.

The  girl puts another white piece in its place.

"Please repeat"

is followed by the command Tav.

"Should I try it?"

Haarlep finally purrs, getting up on his elbow.

"You'll have to work on the flame yourself"

Raphael roars, as if he is not sitting between his lovers, but as if a dozen naughty children have been hung on him and his ability to be nervous has left him.

The flame goes out, freeing the way. Raphael suddenly finds a plus, the image of his little mouse licking his fingers is quite pleasant.... Tav meets his gaze and accidentally touches the skin of his fingers with his mouth, not limited to claws alone. The devil's gaze softens.

This is repeated several more times until Tav offers to try it. The devil is already ready to fulfill her request and slowly pulls his hand to his own mouth. When Tav orders him to stop, he jumps up, balancing on her knees to be level with his face.

"Not like that."

The girl sighs briefly before snatching the treat from the claws into her mouth and clinging to the lips of the devil in a kiss. Haarlep's chuckle can be heard in the background. Tav does not open from Raphael, passing him the contents of his mouth and following him with the movements of his tongue over sharp teeth and sweet lips. And she sits down on the bed again, looking at Raphael's expression with interest. How he tastes and swallows with barely noticeable movement of his mouth.

"I didn't think that you, little mouse, would be the first to bring such games to our bed,"

says Raphael, hiding any of his impressions.

"Can I bring some creativity?"

Haarlep says, looking at them both alternately.

"It is necessary, Haarlep,"

Tav replies, not taking his satisfied, cunning eyes off Raphael.

[analogwriting]

It Comes in Waves

Chapter 25: Leftover Waves

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader word count: 2.8k a/n: disclaimer; no chanclas were harmed in the making of this chapter. first|next

You woke with a soft groan, placing a hand on your own head. You felt like you were hit by the Thousand Sunny going at full coup de burst. You slowly opened your eyes, grumbling as you did so. Everything felt so bright. Things were blurring for a moment as you blinked them clear once more. Where were you? What happened? 

“Y/n!” You looked over, seeing Law sitting there, concern and relief across his features. You tried to say something but nothing came out. “Shh, don’t try to say anything. Here, drink some water.” Law sat you up slightly, helping you drink out of a cup. As you did so, you felt as if you were a dying plant having its first watering in a while. You felt yourself already rehydrating itself. 

Fuck, you didn’t like feeling like this. Every fiber of your being felt like lead. After a moment of adjusting to the fact that you were awake, you slowly sat up. Law tried to stop you but you swatted him away, insisting that you were fine.

You sit there for a moment, staring at your hands. You know he’s staring at you and as your memories came flooding back, you knew he had questions. You sighed, looking at him. The way he was looking at you, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It didn’t help that his hat obscured his features. You knew he put it further down when he was trying to hide. You sighed.

Words weren’t coming to you. There was so much to fill him in on and you had no idea where to start. Sure, you could’ve just done the old reliable interrogation method but that sounded exhausting. “We’re all born with our hearts in our necklaces. I don’t…know why. That’s something we kind of learn later in our schooling but…you know…” You looked down at your hands. “There’s a lot I don’t know, actually.” You let out a hollow chuckle. History of your people came later in schooling. Sure, you knew history and the likes. Honestly, you had barely learned that not all people were born with a necklace that contained their entire being before everything happened. You didn’t really learn that fact until you saw a visitor for the first time.

“But, I do know that when we are without our necklaces - our hearts - we lose who we are as people. We become the husk of a human. We lose ourselves. It usually takes time for that to happen. A few months, easily. It’s not overnight. I thought I’d have plenty of time, but I think the amount of power that I used sped up the process.” You sighed. 

“You shouldn’t have left it with me if it was that important.”

“Well, I did it to show you how serious I was about joining your crew. To make sure you knew that I’d keep my promise and…” You looked down at your pendant, stopping. “Why did the color change?” You picked it up, examining it. It was a beautiful shade of gold just like…

You looked at Law, then to the pendant, then to Law. You did this a few times and he just looked at you. “What is it?” he asked, slight annoyance in his voice. You moved close to him, causing him to tense up as you did so. You held the pendant up to the side of his face, looking between his eyes and the color. “Oh shit.” Your eyes widened slightly. 

“What?” The annoyance was clear now.

“It matches your eye color.” You laughed softly, letting it fall back on your chest and settling back down. “I don’t know when it changed.”

“Uh, it changed when I touched it…” You looked at him, a puzzled expression on your face. “When I had to put the chest back, I touched your necklace and it changed color and took the box.” You stared at him, eyes widening. Oh shit. 

“I need you to do something.” You held your necklace up to him. “Touch this and think of, uh, hm, a knife. The ones I use.” Law blinked, but he was so confused that he didn’t even ask, doing as you instructed. Just as you suspected, he was able to withdraw the blade. “Well, I’ll be damned…” You let out a laugh of disbelief. 

“What? Why can I do that now? What is going on?” 

You opened your mouth to explain when Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi burst into the door. “We heard y/n!” They all gathered around the bed you were in, looking at you. “You’re okay!” Bepo was about to throw his arms around you when he stopped himself. He was just so excited to see you! He had almost forgotten about all your injuries. 

You offered a smile to them. “Hey guys.” You felt like you were in this state every single time you ran into them. “I’m starting to think you guys see me injured more times than not,” you mumbled, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

“But we get to see you and that’s all that matters!” Bepo said with a wide smile as he fiddled with his clothing. Your heart warmed up. He was just so cute and you could see why Law just couldn’t say no to him. You knew you would have a hard time too.

“That’s true.”

“We’d get to see you more i-” Penguin started before receiving an elbow to the ribs from Law. “Don’t suffocate them guys. They just woke up.” He made a face and radiated irritation. 

You just smiled, shaking your head. “I’m perfectly fine. I don’t mind the company,” you mused, earning a glare from the doctor. You honestly could get used to this. Actually people around people more often. It wasn’t as overwhelmed as it used to be - you welcomed it. You actually were starting to hate being alone. Your thoughts ended up running too rampant and you would do something stupid. 

It seems you needed people to keep you in check.

After some small talk of what happened while you were…out of commission, you finally understood what was going on, somewhat. “Alright. When do we meet up with everyone?” You knew Luffy had to be worried sick about you. You wanted to let him know you were alright.

Law looked at you with a stoic face. “You are-”

“I swear to the ocean, Trafalgar Law, that if you tell me that I’m staying here while everyone else risks their lives, I’m going to drown you myself.” You cut him off, glaring at him. Shachi and Penguin gave each other amused looks, Bepo looking worried. 

He opened his mouth to say something before turning to the trio. “Give us a minute.” The tone in his voice was a warning that made them skitter out of the room. He turned back to you. “I’m not going to let you kill yourself.”

“I’m not going to kill myself - you’re being dramatic.” 

“You’re still in recovery.”

“I feel fine now. I heal quickly.”

“I literally had to do the most painful thing to make sure you’re fine. I’m not letting that happen again.”

“Well, as long as my heart stays close to me - easy. I’ll be fine. I’m going.”

Law let out an exasperated sigh. “Impossible,” he mumbled, looking at you. You could tell he was thinking of a way to win this argument but he was coming up empty. He knew he couldn’t win against you.

“You know,” he started. Something told you he was about to say some stupid shit by his tone of voice. “If you want to join my crew, you’re going to have to start actually listening to me. And I said no.”

You stared at him incredulously. You couldn’t believe he said that. “A few things,” you started, turning to face him fully. You crossed your legs on the bed, glaring him down. He shifted under your gaze. “Did you only ask me to join your crew so that you could control me? Because so far you’ve tried to pull the captain card on me twice. And it was when I wouldn’t do something you said.” You stood up, towering over him as he was still sitting.

You put your hands on the arms of the chair, getting in his face. He shrunk in the chair, but you leaned in, your faces so close you could feel each other’s breath.

“And as far as I’m aware, Trafalgar Law, you originally asked me to join your crew. Not the other way around.” His eyes were wide, cheeks red, and he swallowed hard. “You haven’t even kept your end of the bargain and asked.”

He opened his mouth before closing it. He did this a couple times as he scrambled to find something to say. “The first time doesn’t count. The agreement was if you asked again when we ran into each other.” You could tell that the more you spoke the more flustered he was becoming and honestly…you kind of liked seeing the doctor rendered speechless.

That cocky mouth of his drove you nuts. This was a nice change of pace.

“And you were only about to ask before I went to get Sanji because I pointed out that you hadn’t. You were only doing it to be able to pull the captain card, too.” You folded your arms and glared at him as he sat there, trying to recover.

He was silent, looking like he was really struggling right now. He eventually straightened himself back up, clearing his throat. “Are you done?” He was trying to sound a certain way, but with the way his voice strained, it wasn’t working.

“Yes.” You nodded. “Satisfied, too - if you were gonna ask.” A smirk spread across your face. 

“Fine. Whatever. Do what you want - clearly that’s all you’re gonna do.” He stood up, turning to leave. You reached out, grabbing his sleeve. “Wait.”

He stopped, not looking at you. “What is this really about?” Something told you there was something more here. 

He sighed, letting his head fall back as he thought about what to do. “I can’t…” His voice was soft. “I can’t lose another person I care about, okay?” He sounded…tired. Sure, he was pretty much the personification of tired with his eyebags and his expressions, but this was different.

“Is…this about Corazon?” 

His head snapped to you so fast you thought he’d break his neck in the process. “You…” His eyes widened and he looked at you in pure disbelief. “Remember? Yes. Took a while, but I got there.” 

“When?”

“Punk Hazard.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Both of you were quiet and you realized you were still holding on to his shirt. You went to pull it away when he caught your hand in his own, startling you. His thumb gently went over the back of your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“We…haven’t exactly had time to really talk,” you said softly. “So…I couldn’t tell you.” It had been one thing after another after you had reunited. Every time you had a moment together, it was ruined by someone or you both were so exhausted and mentally drained by everyone else around you that you just relished in the silence and company of the other. 

Law stared at your hand as he continued running his thumb over it. You felt heat rushing up to your cheeks, swallowing hard. “You’re right.” His voice was soft. “About?” You kind of said a lot in the past few minutes so you had no idea what he was referencing.

“Everything.” He sighed, looking at you. You were quiet now, letting him talk this time. “It is a control thing, but it links back to Cora…” He looked back down at your hands and he moved to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt your own heart racing. Even if it wasn’t in your chest, you were still connected to it.

He was quiet - you could tell he was struggling to find the words he was looking for. You knew he struggled with expressing himself. He wasn’t exactly eloquent when it came to these things. Sure, he was quick witted and highly intelligent, but this was different. This was hard. You squeezed his hand softly, giving him some encouragement. 

“I just…want to protect those I care about.” His grip tightened slightly. Not near enough to hurt you, but enough to make a point. “I have lost way too many people I care about and I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

You looked at him for a long time. While no two people ever felt the exact same, you had a rough idea of how he was feeling. You were in the same boat. “You think I don’t?” He looked at you, blinking as if he had never thought of that before. “Law…the things I do, why I keep pushing myself, it’s to protect those I care about. I have also lost way too many people. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” Honestly, you probably couldn’t lose anyone else. You might not have the strength to keep going. Sometimes, you felt like you were at the end of your rope. That one small inconvenience was going to be a means to an end.

“I know you want to protect people and you can, but keeping people locked up isn’t going to do anything but make that person resent you.” You sighed. “Some will say that’s the price of keeping people safe, but that’s some possessive bullshit and I don’t tolerate that shit.”

You both let out soft laughs.

“How about I make you another promise,” you said. Law’s eyebrows lifted, showing his curiosity. You moved, unlacing your hand from his, instead moving them to his face. Gently, you held him, looking into his eyes. 

“I won’t push myself too hard. I promise that I will not die.” Law stared at you with his widened eyes, his face turning more and more red the longer you held his face. You kept holding him there, not letting him look away until he answered you.

“Got it?” you said softly to which he started nodding. Once again, you rendered him speechless. He looked at you, glancing down at your lips for a moment before back to your eyes. He almost seemed to move towards you - 

“Y/N!” 

Both of you shot away from each other - the moment completely disintegrated by Luffy’s voice ringing through the halls. The sounds of aggressive sandals coming down the hallway as he ran. “Duck,” you instructed Law. He looked at you confused and you moved, placing a hand on his head and forcing him to bend down just in time for Luffy’s arms to shoot through the door and wrap around you, slingshotting himself into your body.

You both tumbled into the bed and he held you like that for a moment. “I knew you were okay!” He laughed, his boa constrictor-like grip tightening. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Yep. Perfectly fine.” 

He pulled from you, untangling himself. “Law told us he found you but you were sleeping. We didn’t want to interrupt you.” You looked up, seeing Sanji, Chopper, Nami, and Brook. You noticed a look on Sanji’s face. “Chancla,” you mumbled to Luffy. With no hesitation and a shit eating grin, he happily handed you his sandal. He knew what was coming and he loved watching it every time. This was his favorite party trick of yours, after all.

In one fluid motion and a flick of your wrist, the sandal was sent flying across the room at a dangerous speed. It smacked Sanji square in the forehead, sending him back. You stood up, marching over to the cook to retrieve your weapon of choice.

“Wh-” He looked at you, instantly freezing as he saw the dangerous look on your face. You were glaring at him, chancla in hand. You pointed it at him and he flinched. “I swear to the ocean, Sanji, that if you try blaming yourself for what happened, I will beat the life out of you with Luffy’s chancla,” you threatened. That’s two people today. Two death threats. You were on a roll. 

Sanji’s hands went up in surrender and he nodded quickly. “Alright, alright. Got it.” You smiled widely, walking over to Luffy and handing him his shoe back. “Thank you for your generous donation.”

“You’re welcome, y/n! You know it’s my favorite game,” he snickered. “Well, except when I’m getting hit.” You both laughed and you felt better. This is what you needed. Some feel good time with your friends. However, you knew it wouldn’t last. You were in the middle of war after all. But you’d enjoy it for now. 

[livesincerely]

Buck settles gingerly into one corner of the couch, fingers digging into his thighs. Eddie settles next to him—close, but not nearly close enough, but also way too close, actually, the phantom heat of his body just enough to tease at him—and the weight of his gaze is like a physical thing, unrelenting and inescapable.

He bites his lip, trying desperately not to squirm.

“Buck,” Eddie says after several long moments of silence, and he shouldn’t be allowed to sound like that, all whiskey smooth with just a hint of growl. “Sweetheart, come here.”

Buck’s on him in an instant, tucking himself under Eddie’s arm and curling as close as he can, whimpering softly.

“Shh,” Eddie says, leaning back until they’re reclined against the cushions, their legs tangled together. “I’ve got you. You just gotta tell me what you want from this. How I can make this okay for you.”

Buck opens his mouth but nothing comes out, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. He whines, high and warbling, the beginnings of tears stinging at the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, Buck,” Eddie murmurs, tracing mindless patterns against his back. “It’s okay, cariño, I’m right here.”

“Sorry,” Buck says, turning to tuck his face against his throat. “I don’t mean to be so— This probably isn’t what you had in mind when you volunteered as tribute.”

Eddie brushes off the weak attempt at a joke, his arm curling tighter around his waist.

“It’s not exactly a hardship,” he says lightly. “And I told you, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“It’s too much,” Buck says, and it is. It’s infinitely massive, this longing that churns inside of him, threatening to crack him open and shake him apart. “It’s— I’m too much.”

“You’re never too much.”

“You don’t get it,” Buck insists. “I’m not— I can’t just—“

Realization crashes over him like a wave breaking against the rocks and he pushes himself upright again. The motion dislodges Eddie’s arm and Buck can’t help but mourn the loss, brief as it was.

“I shouldn’t have let you do this,” he says, putting more space between their bodies. “I never should’ve… I’ll call an Uber, or, maybe Bobby can—“

But Eddie won’t let him retreat.

“Evan,” he says, and Buck’s panicked ramblings fizzle and die. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Eddie,” he says, voice tight with strain. “I’m trying to give you an out.”

“And I’m telling you, I don’t want an out,” Eddie replies.

Those warm, worried eyes scan his face, searching, then his expression softens.

“Hey,” he murmurs, placing a hand over his knee—as if soothing a startled animal. Buck thinks he might vibrate right out of his skin. “It’s just me. It’s just us. All you have to do is let me help you.”

“But—“

“Tell me,” Eddie gently commands, “what you want.”

“You,” Buck chokes out. “Just you, Eds. Whatever you’ll give me.”

“And what if I want to give you everything?” Eddie asks. “What if I want to hold you just like this, and fall asleep next to you every night, and wake up with you every morning? What if I want to lay you out and work you open until you’re trembling on my fingers, gasping for it, begging me to fuck you? What if I want to keep you?” Eddie pauses then, like he isn’t holding Buck’s still-beating heart in his hands. Slowly, he finishes, “What if I want to love you?”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” Eddie asks, steady as ever, holding his gaze.

“Please,” Buck whispers. He can’t say it any louder—he feels like he’ll shatter into a thousand pieces if he tries. “Eddie, please.”

000000

(First part of the fic can be found here 😉)

[a-cix]

Draft - 12.13.23

Taekook. rich tae, waiter jk vibe. 2.2k

“Shh, sh-sh.”

In a room with people of such wealth and class, it is nothing for a man to silence a woman like so, even more so when that woman works for him. Tsk-tsk, their shushes seem to say. It is not said with offense or disgrace. It is not a How dare you, but rather a gentle prod: Do you not wish to be silent?

No one wants to listen to you, darling.

Jungkook watches the man shush the woman, her suit-skirt folding around her narrow hips as she bends to whisper to him, clipboard pushing up under her breasts. His hand moves around the back of the couch and ghosts at her hip, not quite touching her, but threatening to.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says quietly. “I’ll take care of it. Just reschedule my meetings tonight. And you can leave after. I don’t need you anymore. It’s been a long day.”

Jungkook listens. He watches the man, his gold watch flashing in the dim, warm light—a Rolex, Jungkook noticed earlier, from the moment he first laid eyes on this man, because he’s learned to spot signs of wealth. The man is put-together, in a tailored suit, another detail Jungkook can pick up on because he’s learned to spot it. This man is too tall for a generic suit to fit him so well. Besides, the dense fabric, the luxurious cufflinks, the clean seams, no suits made with such quality are available without tailoring. They are all custom-made.

“More champagne, sir?” Jungkook asks, replacing the woman as soon as she leaves. She must be a secretary of some sort, a personal assistant, a professional foot-massager or whatever else men like this typically keep these suited women with clipboards and hushed voices around for. Sometimes Jungkook feels that the women are simply there to make the men look important, as if they’re posturing to the other men in the room. Sometimes Jungkook thinks men like this fuck women just to titillate other men. Peak homoeroticism. Jungkook has slept with more than a few of the men who frequent this place, the ones who keep a few too many women around them, a few too many flashy things on their bodies. The ones who compensate. It always ends the same. He hopes it ends the same way with this man too.

The man turns to glance at Jungkook over his shoulder, one leg crossed over his other, ankle hooked over the knee, making himself look bigger as he expands into his lounge chair.

The man sees Jungkook’s face and smiles.

“What did you say?”

Jungkook smiles back. This man knows what Jungkook said. He just wants to hear it again. From this pretty mouth, this pretty face.

“Would you like some more champagne, sir?”

Jungkook says it carefully. He wants to make this man feel special. He wants him to know that this moment between them, this eye contact, this electricity, is not only real for both of them, but that to Jungkook it is everything.

You can save me, he wants to say with his eyes. Lowly little me.

It’s easier to fool people like this. Feigning ignorance and stupidity and poverty. Men like this, they like poor little boys, pathetic boys, boys who cry and whimper and ask why they get treated the way they do.

The man looks Jungkook up and down, just as Jungkook intended. But his eyes do not linger, not on Jungkook’s second-hand loafers, purposefully scraped up at the tips, or the crusty look of too much cheap gel in his hair. The man shakes his head and raises a hand.

“I’m okay, thank you.” He gives Jungkook a quick smile over his shoulder. Jungkook sees his tired eyes, strangely earnest, strangely heavy. “Long day tomorrow.”

Jungkook nods and backs off with a bow, balancing the tray of champagne flutes with the skill and dexterity of a thousand years.

He later sees the man heading out, his suit jacket folded neatly over his arm, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stretches his neck in slow circles. Jungkook watches like a hawk, flaying the man open with his eyes, until the man looks at him, and suddenly he feels criminal. Caught. As if this man sees everything he has done, laid out before him like a glass box of artifacts. Title: Bad things I have done. Title: People like you I’ve fucked over. Title: The horrible, disgusting things I want you to do to me.

That night Jungkook thinks of the man, his kind smile and his deadly eyes. The way he balanced his single champagne flute in his tan, slender fingers. The way he spoke to Jungkook, offering him a piece of his life: Long day tomorrow. Why would he share such a thing? What did he have to gain from it?

Anything at all?

Jungkook mulls it over but comes up with nothing. Nothing but the cold darkness of his low ceiling and the extravagant loudness of the Seoul streets outside, the hum of electric vehicles he has yet to be able to afford, and the feeling of something chasing him. There are some things you can never get away from. Money, and no money.

Jungkook doesn’t see the man again until a big event comes about. It’s put on by one of the biggest law firms in Seoul, sponsored by the bar association. Because of this Jungkook sees many men he has dirtied his hands with in the past, and he passes by them, chin raised, as though they are nothing. Because they are. He has seen them naked, shrivelled, swollen cock flaccid on their bellies as they look Jungkook in the eye and tell him that he is the first person to ever understand them.

Of course he is. Jungkook is Jungkook. He is magnificent, empathetic, and sharp. So sharp. He cuts people open. He sees their insides.

After those moments of vulnerability, nights spent alone, nights of first-times and brand-new homoeroticism that Jungkook pretends to still be amazed by, he never sees these men again. They don’t come around. Sometimes he muses on how they go about it. They must come up with excuses. They must lie through their yellow smokers’ teeth. I’m busy tonight.

When the victories are magnificent, Jungkook likes to keep them on his bedside table for a few days, maybe even a week. He likes to wake up and see the gold glimmering in the afternoon light that streams into his apartment. He wakes late because he works late. He likes to say that he is young, that the night belongs to him, and to own something means to sacrifice another. The mornings are never his time, pale and grey. It doesn’t match his colour palette. He is a creature of the night. Darkness and orange candlelight, alcohol, red stoplights.

Jungkook likes the way his prizes smile at him. He rises at noon in his crummy apartment and fucks around till 4 pm or so, drinking tea, working out, eating expensive protein off the money of men he lets inside him. Salmon. Wagyu. Sometimes he eats canned tuna to stay humble, but it’s more like a joke he tells himself. Remember when I used to live like this? Not anymore. Now he is clever and his beauty and sexuality is his weapon. He likes to think he knows things people don’t, and that he is better at life than most because of his knowledge.

Knoweldge is money, so you’d think knowledge is everything, but it goes a bit deeper than that.

Clientele is SJ tn, Jimin’s text says, lighting up Jungkook’s phone screen as he walks from the train station down the familiar street that he’s made his own over the past three years. The vibrant lightbox signs and the headache advertisements used to sting, but he is no longer the boy he used to be. This is now his home. This route is where he prepares, plots things out, and becomes the character: Jung Kook. No last name, and not really a first name either. Just a name, whole and complete. An idea. A concept. International Playboy, he used to call himself jokingly, popping his collar in Jimin’s living room after a long night at work together, winding down into the early, buzzing mornings with a few too many shots of soju.

“Evening,” Jungkook says, poking his head into the staff lounge at the back of the building, flashing his signature smile. “Who’s the clientele tonight?”

He already knows, but he wants to know what everyone else knows, what they’re thinking.

“SJ,” Jimin says, standing with two of the girls near the water tub at the back, glowing blue in the artificial light the company pumps into the machine to make their water seem cleaner. As Jimin hands Jungkook the clipboard of tonight’s registered clients, they share a look. Jimin knows that Jungkook already knows, but it’s dog-eat-dog here. Jungkook flashes a smile to the two girls circling Jimin, the piranha-like smiles they give back, vaguely remembering their names and knowing they won’t last, not the way he and Jimin have. Here, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman or what your clientele is. What matters is your fluidiuty.

One of the women is too bright. Tries too hard. Jungkook has seen her on the floor, her sweaty smile at men who would never give her a second glance, the desperate shake of her voice. It doesn’t work like that. The other one is too timid. Jungkook has seen her so close to a victory, but she doesn’t bite. No teeth. Just gums. No man wants a gumjob. Men want a bitch with teeth who stays gentle only for him.

It’s only later in the evening, when Jungkook is so deep in his character—International Playboy, Jung Kook, two words, no last name, no first name—that he sees the man again. The man with the ghostly gentle fingers, the man whose strangely kind eyes make Jungkook feel watched.

“I’ll take that glass of champagne this time,” the man says, his lips smiling but his eyes hollow. Jungkook has had an eye on him all night, his mannerisms, his calculated movements, his smiles, his moments of boldness. Among businessmen like this, there are always such interesting hierarchies to take note of. The young man who makes the older men laugh. The older man who the young men crowd toward. Jungkook finds it disgusting. LIke watching cockroaches fuck. But this man is different. He is peaceful and removed from the grime of his circumstances. He does not laugh at crass jokes about women, but he does not cause a scene either, simply bowing his head and stepping away to seek another conversation, another glass of alcohol that he ends up leaving unfinished on a dressed table.

“You haven’t finished your last,” Jungkook says with a small smile, eyeing the last glass of bubbling fluid the man had left on the table ten minutes ago.

“Ah.” The man laughs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s not as nervous as he should be. It’s like he’s faking it. LIke he’s naturally confident, but wants to seem submissive and easy. Jungkook breathes in and out. Feels the conditioned air dry his throat. Maybe he’s overthinking things. Projecting. The man continues, “I, uh, I forgot about that.”

“Mm-hm.” Jungkook gives him a special smile, one of those smiles that say: this is only for you. But he grabs the man another glass of champagne because that’s his job. Toeing the line between professional and unprofessional. Give him 12 hours, maybe 6, and he could have this man naked, panting, swearing, professionalism be damned. Give Jungkook 24 hours and he could have this man fucked for a whole new reason. Maybe. Some people keep valuables easily accessible on their bedside table but some people lock them away, cheap fucks they are.

That’s all Jungkook thinks about: How easily could I steal from this person? How easily can I fuck you over? Sometimes, on the nights he drinks too much or thinks a little too deeply, it gets to him. His mannerisms, his shallowness. Sometimes, when his shift ends early, when he’s tuckered out and drained, he glances at Jimin and sees what they do in a different light. It’s disgusting. Usually he can sleep it off. You’ve gotta do what you gotta do. Lie, cheat, steal. Life is a game and money is the prize. There are no rules, not really.

As Jungkook brings a fresh glass of champagne to this man, his beautiful face, the relieved smile on his full lips, the way he brushes a strand of hair off his forehead as he accepts the glass flute in his fingertips, a delicate shake to his body, Jungkook feels guily for the first time. He thinks about how this will go. First, a statement—you are beautiful. Second, a lie—I’ve never felt this way about another man. Finally, an admission—You feel so good inside.

There’s always more after that, the part Jungkook does in the silence of the room after pretending to fall asleep, where he snatches what he saw in the room when the lights were still on. The things he noted down. He keeps it respectful. He erases from his mind the signs of misery, depression, or genuine existence, whether it be a month's worth of dirty clothes piled in a corner or a letter from a loved one pinned to the fridge. Jungkook never sees the person behind his crimes, and maybe that’s why he’s so good at what he does.

He is transparent. He is invisible and sees nothing.

[weepingnightmarezombie]

Chapter Two: Sunlight

When Laura woke up, there was sunlight in her face. Sunlight. She’d dreamed of it in the compound, under the flickering fluorescents. It felt so unbearably good that she tapped the ground with her fingers, feeling dirt and leaves with sensitive pads. She was outside, for the first time in her life. 

“Good morning.” The man said “My name is… Kraven, I think. What is yours?”

“Akira.” It was the name she’d chosen, and it was finally time to use it. A new name for a new life. 

“We should keep moving. Here, I foraged these.” A small amount of nuts and berries were pressed into her hand, and she chose to trust. Kraven had helped her so far. Maybe he would continue to do so. A hand was offered her when she finished, helping her up from the forest floor. She hadn’t been helped up in a decade or more. It was… nice. Despite the terror in every broken twig, it was nice to follow Kraven cautiously through the forest. She’d been lonely her whole life. 

Kraven kept himself alert, wary of the agents hunting them both. There was something… innocent in Akira. Something he wanted desperately to protect. She was quieter than he’d expected, her footfalls almost soundless like a cat. They made it an entire week until they were able to find a town, slinking through to scavenge new clothes and some food that had been left unattended. 

Then there was the news. Shield, Hydra, it had all… fallen. Its secret leaked, to be copied a thousand times over. Most of the agents had been discovered and summarily imprisoned. Many took their own lives rather than live in defeat. But there were always stragglers, and they never would be safe. Not with the way things were. 

“Where will we go?” Akira said, looking up at a Kraven that could dimly remember a place he’d called home. It was on a different continent, and with no money they had no way to reach it. Yet. 

“Back into the forest, but keep moving.” 

“I, um… I have a brother?” Akira offered “He might be able to protect me, at least, and get you help to remember who you are.”

“I remember what I need to, can you trust him?” 

“I hope so.” 

A few weeks later, they’d been able to figure out Stark’s secretaries number. It took a few coins, finding what was probably the last operating phone booth, and most of Akira’s courage to make contact.

“Mr. Stark’s secretary, who may I ask is speaking?”

“It’s Laura. He’ll want to speak to me.” Her lungs were quivering, but her voice mostly stayed the way it should. Confident, but soft. 

“Laura who?”

“Laura May Stark.” 

“Ok, i’ll tell Mr. Stark you’re on the line.” It was an eternity between the click and when someone picked up the line again.

“This isn’t funny!” A man said, slapping the phone down on the receiver. Akira felt like she’d been plunged into an ice-cold tub of water. He hadn’t believed her. She’d dreamed of having a home to return to, only to find out she wasn’t even wanted. She… she was crying. There was a hand on her shoulder, Kraven bearing witness to her intolerable weakness.

“Shh, little one… We will survive. Let’s get out of town, yes?” Kraven led her gently back into the shadows beneath the trees. Poor girl. He let her cry against him, shushing her slurred apologies about getting his shirt wet. It would dry, in time. She would not heal without catharsis. 

“I’m afraid I have some bad news, boss.” Friday said.

“What is it?”

“You know that prank call you asked me to look into? The phone booth was near a security camera and… Facial recognition shows she’s a match for the woman in the Laura May Stark folder.” 

“Shit.” 

[solsticelosthermind]

I’m a thousand words into the outside-pov winterhawk fic y’all and Clint literally just showed up. This means a) I have failed once again at keeping things small and b) also failed at ‘Do Not Rewrite This A Million Times just let it BE’ because we’re on iteration four i think HOWEVER: I am in love with these random teenagers recording Clint involve himself in Local Shenanigans.

“Okay,” Nessa whispers. Cloth shushes against cloth, and the camera slowly steadies.

The toddler stands by the swings. Her hands are clasped tightly together and held against her chest as she stares with obvious longing at a dog in a purple vest. The dog’s owner, a blond man in a matching purple shirt, squats down beside the dog, holding the handle between the dog’s shoulders.

“Service dog,” Nessa says quietly. “That’s what the vest says.”

“Shh, listen!”

The man is tall, towering over the little girl even crouching. He gestures vaguely with his free hand as he talks. It’s too far for the phone to pick up on what he’s explaining. But it’s clear when the man asks a question, because he gives her a comical what-do-you-think kind of look, with big eyes and raised brows, inviting her to reply. The little girl nods, tight red curls bouncing wildly. She gives a delighted full-body wiggle when the man grins, obviously agreeing with her answer. He offers his free hand for a high five, and the girl slaps his palm with both of her own.

“Okay, that’s cute as hell, actually,” Nessa mumbles.

“Nessa,” Isha whisper-squeals. The video wobbles as Nessa protests being shaken. “Ness, that’s Hawkeye! You thought Hawkeye was gonna kidnap that girl! Oh, oh, do you think he’ll give me an autograph? Crap, what would I even have him autograph? My shirt?” ”That’s not Hawkeye,” Nessa says, but she sounds uncertain.