#the soldering continues to be fucking rough

[iceskatingmobsters]

request from family + simple lil project to break in the home studio

[chanshoesunite]

Chan is attracted to YN's capability

Content info: YN helps Chan to fix his music kit and he finds that very attractive.

Word count: 2.100-ish

Warnings: this is mostly domestic fluff with a smutty twist at the end, praise, kissing, from cute!Chan to rough!Chan in seconds, face sitting (fem receiving)

“Nooooo”, Chan wails softly at the table.

You nearly crack your neck looking up from your comfortable nest in the bean bag. He is fiddling with a cable, frowning.

“What? What happened? Did you delete something? Did someone beat you in your game? Have the kids called you old in the group chat again?”

Chan can barely crack a smile at your attempt at humour, still fiddling. That’s not a good sign, so you get up while he is talking.

“No, nothing deleted…this cable here is so fucked though. But I had tape around it and everything, I thought that would give me more of, like, a grace period to continue using it?”

“Can you switch it or…”, you look where it connects to his music equipment, “ah, it’s not removable. How annoying!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Damn, I really don’t want to throw away the whole thing, feels like such a waste.”

You gently let your fingers travel from his bare shoulder down his nervous hands, taking the broken cable from him. Upon inspection, you can see the individual wires are now fully exposed and most of them are severed. It looks a mess, especially where Chan tried to strengthen the insulation with tape. But the wires are a decent size and not too tiny to work with.

“Hmmm”, you go, turning it round a few times, thinking.

Chan looks at you, his eyes large: “Hmmm?”

You meet his gaze, and after a moment of hesitation you say with a smile: “I can fix that!”

Chan’s face lights up, eyes crinkling, dimples on full display. Looking at him, a glowing ball of happiness grows inside you.

“You can?! That’s amazing!”

His voice is only slightly disbelieving, so you only slights shove against him playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised! Sure I can! Soldering the wires back together should do the trick and I am pretty good at that.”

“You can solder?!”, he shouts, surprise making his voice grow louder. A beat, and then: “We own soldering stuff?!”

The happiness ball inside you bubbles up as a laugh and you give Chan a big kiss on the cheek.

“We do indeed! Wanna watch me fix this?”

“Uh, yeah?!”, he gets up to follow after you.

Quickly you collect your tools while he watches you, throwing loud questions at you: “When did you learn this? Where did you get your tools? What else have you soldered? What does this do?”

As you lay out your kit, you explain the basics and caution Chan not to touch the hot end of the soldering iron once you turn it on – better him pouting at you for thinking he’s a baby (“the cutest and also sexiest baby”, you coo while he grimaces but ultimately smiles) than having to nurse a burnt finger. You are by no means an expert, but your dad has explained this to you and supervised your soldering previously, so you are confident.

For every step, you explain what you are doing while demonstrating it. Chan watches you like a hawk. When you have stripped the first wire of its plastic casing, you have an idea: “Actually, do you want to help?”

His face morphs from a look of intense concentration to one of delight: “Can I? Yes, definitely!”

You hand him the equipment and caution him not to nick the wires. He works carefully, seriously. Soldering some wires isn’t that difficult if you know what you do, but for someone doing it for the first time he does a really nice job, so you praise his efforts profusely.

“Yes, good work, my love! Steady, just like that. That looks so neat!”

The mixture of shyness and pride your words evoke make you melt for him. At the same time, you feel slightly lightheaded from the adoring expression on his face. He is obviously impressed by your knowledge and when he is not using the tools, he cannot seem to stop himself from letting his hands roam very gently along your waist, your hip and the small of your back. He even helpfully tucks a strand of hair behind your ear when both your hands are occupied. In return, you pepper soft kisses on his shoulders when he is soldering.

Finally, you show Chan how to use the heat gun for the shrinking tube. He exclaims excitedly at the “actual flame! Wow!” and the sizzling noise it makes.

“This will protect the soldered area even more – but don’t set the tube on fire. Or the insulation. Keep it moving.”

With a flourish, you hold out the heat gun to him.

“Good sir, will you do the honours?”

Instead of taking the heat gun, he pulls you in and says: “You are incredibly sexy with all your knowledge and tools and tiny flame throwers, you know that?”

A small gasp escapes you when he bites your earlobe.

“I’m glad you think so”, you say a little breathlessly.

His eyebrow quirks up and his smile turns seductive. Chan leans in to kiss you and your eyes drift shut. The feeling of his soft lips against yours is heavenly. After a few moments, his mouth wanders down your neck, teasing your tingling skin. One of his hands wanders from your waist up to your breast. He remains there for a little tease and you press yourself against him. But he does not remain at your sensitive nipple. Instead, he continues stroking down your arm.

Then he takes the heat gun from you, just as he gives you a cheeky peck on the nose. He leans back and his sensuous smile has transformed into a maniacal grin. Holding up the heat gun – safely turned away from both of you, or anything that could catch fire – he switches it on.

“I have fiyaaa!”, he proclaims, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Bultaoreune”, you deadpan. You squeeze him to you once more to kiss his lips. Then you focus on the task at hand again.

Chan shrinks the tube along the soldered area while you lay your head against his shoulder. At one point, he briefly looks away from his work and kisses your hair.

“This is great”, he says, “you are great!”

“Ah, don’t praise me yet – also, you did half the work, so you are great too...don’t shake your head at me!”

After a few more seconds, you say: “I think that’s as much shrinkage as we’re gonna get.”

Chan lays down the heat gun and you inspect the now mended cable.

“Alright – well, it certainly looks good! Let’s give it a try.”

Chan taps his fingers on the table to make a little drumroll while you plug it in. You both wait – you a bit worried, him a hundred percent convinced of your capabilities. His device turns on.

“Fuck yeah! We did it!”, he exclaims and you let out a breath you definitely were not holding.

“Yay!”, you say, and then you laugh as he spins you around in celebration.

“That was such a good experience”, he says, slowly stopping his spinning. He gently takes your face between his warm hands and kisses your forehead, nose and lips.

“And all thanks to you. Thank you, princess.”

With a happy smile, you look at him: “I am so glad I could help.”

He strokes his thumb along your lower lip. His gaze is loving and you are captivated by it.

“I want to repay you”, he says quietly.

Instead of protesting as you might do another day, your thoughts zoom back to his earlier seductive mood.

“Oh yeah?”, you match his quiet tone, “I am open to suggestions.”

“Good”, Chan growls, turning from gentleness to ravishment.

First of all, he takes his shirt off, which is always the perfect start to any activity in your book. He continues by picking you up and walking to the couch. He plops down, you on top of him. Huh, you had expected it the other way around. Of course, you aren’t complaining. It feels good to have his strong body underneath you. Then, Chan doesn’t give you any more time to think about who is in what position as he attacks your lips with passion. His hands glide underneath your shirt, along your body. Up and down they go, kneading your flesh. His warmth seems to envelop you. Expertly, he unhooks your bra and immediately cups your breasts, teasing your nipples until the sensitive nerves send lightning into your stomach. Luxuriating in the feeling of his hands and mouth, you give yourself over to the moment. Little whimpers of pleasure escape you, and they spur him on.

“God, you are delicious”, he says, his accent thick.

As if to prove it, he puts one hand into your hair, dragging it aside. He runs his tongue over your neck, then starts sucking your soft skin. Your nerves light on fire and you start bucking into him, rolling your hips to get friction for your aching clit. With his free hand, he grasps your arse cheek and helps you rut against him. Shamelessly, you use his hard dick for your enjoyment. You could continue in this sinful bliss forever.

But Chan has other plans. He roughly pushes your leggings and underwear out of the way. Getting his meaning, you finish the job and take them off entirely. But before you can free his cock from his trousers to sit on it, he stops you.

“What are we doing?”, you ask breathlessly.

His hands caress your naked thighs, squeeze your waist. Fuck, you adore his arms so much. You momentarily forget what you just asked. Instead, you focus on his bulging biceps, his thick forearms, trailing your fingers down his prominent veins. Unconsciously, you grind into Chan’s dick some more, leaving a wet patch on his trousers. Chan groans and says something.

“What?”, you were so focused on his arms that you didn’t listen. You blink at him.

“I want you to sit on my face”, Chan says with a grin.

Well, that snaps you out of your obsessive haze real quick.

“Oh!”, you bite your lip. “Mhm!”

“Mhm”, he mimics back at you, his expression hungry.

Slowly you drag yourself forward, never lifting your cunt away from his torso. Only when you reach his sternum do you lift up further to hover over his face. You are on your knees, barely out of reach for his mouth. For a moment, you stay just where you are, teasing him a little, to heighten the anticipation. But Chan is having none of that. Impatiently, he lifts his head from the couch, nuzzling into you, flicking his tongue out to lick at your lips. A yelp leaves you, and all your ideas of teasing him fly straight out of your brain.

Chan groans into your pussy. His hands – his beautiful, strong hands – grab your buttocks and drag you down onto his waiting mouth. You brace yourself against the armrest of the couch. When you look down, you gaze upon Chan’s closed eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, hair already a mess from where your thighs are mussing it up. You add your hand to his scalp, lightly scratching and pulling.

“Ah, fuck”, you whine, while his tongue draws patterns into you, his nose utter perfection against your clit.

Stifling your thrusts and grinds is not an option. And anyway, you know that Chan takes great pride in receiving all of your wanton movements and paving them into a road to an earth-shattering orgasm.

His hands never hold still, continually roaming your hot flesh, sometimes pressing you further into his face, sometimes dragging you away, always aiming for your best stimulation. His occasional moans vibrate your very core, making your pussy pulse with ever-mounting pleasure.

“More, more, more”, you beg breathlessly, and he gives it to you. He gives it to you until your legs shake and your abs are tight. You are so, so close to coming – and you finally, blissfully do when Chan’s tongue laps at your clit in just the right way while one of his hands caresses your nipple.

Your orgasm draws loud, hoarse groans out of you that eventually peter out into whimpers. Chan has not stopped licking you, he only slows down and is as gentle as your sensitive clit needs after his hungry attack. You feel ready to collapse, so you carefully shimmy back down his body, pressing your chest to his. You snuggle into him, trying to catch your breath, hearing his thundering heartbeat, feeling his hard cock against your arse.

“How was that, baby girl?”, he asks sincerely.

“Fucking unbelievable, of course”, you cannot help laughing, still totally wrecked, “thank you.”

“That’s good. I love you”, he gently strokes your back.

“I love you too”, you murmur against his neck, pressing soft kisses along Chan’s jugular. Then you take all your remaining energy together and pull him on top of you. You grin at him: “Please fuck me now.”

“Oh, baby girl, you do not have to ask twice.”

[idiotthatdrawsakaartist]

OKI, gaint rant. Spoiler's for the sailor moon crystal eternal movies!

before i start, Ima be negative as shit, this is simply how i discuss thing's that i don't like or didn't meet my expectations which are usually quite low. This is isnt an attack on yall or yalls character, this is me going we deserve better and we need to stop settling for scraps.

Okay so I watched the sailor moon Eternal movies back in October of 2022, and sadly I was not impressed. This is coming from a die hard sailor moon fan who suffered through Crystal season 1 and 2.

( which weren't as bad as people like to imagine, the art was rough and yeah the story was rushed but tbh compared to the eternal movies the first 2 seasons are quite well paced)

so let's get into why this disappointed me :D

the thing is, i like (most) of the ideas on board in these two films, the idea of the guardian's normal dreams coming into conflict with their sailor guardian duties is interesting! the idea of Chibi-Moon getting her own sailor scout group for the future is interesting ect ect.. but the problem is, they executed them poorly.

It just felt like the mistake allot of newbie writer's make where they start outlining and than don't think their outline through , don't edit it all, don't cut anything that's unnecessary, and than start hitting story beats with illogical events just to move the plot along.

for example Chibi- moon and sailor moon becoming Super Sailor Moon and super Sailor Chibi Moon ALMOST EXATCLY WHEN IT'S CONVIENIENT FOR THEM, FOR ABSOLUTLY NO REASON THAT THEY NEVER QUESTION AND THAT NO ONE ELSE SEEMS TO QUESTION ( not to mention that it doesn't even involve their character arcs or lack there of, mainly for Usagi tbh, whatsoever)

AND NOT TO MENTION THAT THEY APEREANTLY DONT HAVE WEAPONS EVEN DOE LIKE YALL YOU DO- WDYM YOU DONT???? DO MAGICAL WEAPONS DISAPEAR AFTER EARNING A NEW FORM BUT DONT GET REPLACED?????!!!! I FIND THAT VERY HARD TO BELIEVE!

good lord, if i were to call out each individual issue in these movies we'd be here all day. but long story short, not a big fan of the inner guardian's character arcs. the fact that we bring up that they're dreams tend to interfere with their duties is interesting but they do nothing with this. It's honestly just an excuse to give them a new form when they don't need it.

BuT tHeY cAnT tRaNsFoRm CuZ oF tHe DaRkNeSs OvEr ThE cItY

Than group together, discuss the fact that Moonie and her future kid over here couldn't transform at first and let Venus bring up the fact that she can't transform ether along with the rest of the sailor solder's and make a plan to fix this. Perhaps leave the city and than use ur Guardian powers to teleport right into enemy base with a plan to take the VERY OBVIOUS ship thing down and save the world.

the fact that the girls were unaware that they couldn't transform at all besides Venus, Moon, and Chibi Moon honestly frustrated the fuck out of me, fucking talk to each other like you've done before for fuck's sake! especially since Usagi and Chibiusa didnt even try to bring this very troubling revelation up, nope instead we must angst over Mamoru with swapped bodies that's meant to put pressure on Chibiusa but instead it just makes my POCD worse and makes me want to vomit :')

but that's not the worst part, by the end of the first move after all the inner solders got their mostly undeserved upgrade ( I'm looking at u Mercury.... the rest are more acceptable but still extremely shallow) they still cant fight against some electric plant thing i honestly don't remember what it was and i doubt it matters. what was the point in giving them new powers if they were just ganna become useless again 5 seconds after Venus earns her's.....

this shallow approach to the plot makes everything feel Hallow, uif you don't have a pre-established connection to these characters and the pretty music doesn't fool you, you'll end up pretty bored. the problems from the first movies continue in the second with constant un-needed transformations, honestly confusing and kind of boring climax. Like seriously, strip away the cool music and pretty visuals and tell me that what's happening is cool too. And mangled ideas that just don't work together and that's not commenting on the stiff animation. Like yeah it's colorfull but it's so stiff, it makes the 90's anime look flued..

Also im sorry i do not give a single fuck about Queen DarknessMg's backstory in this movie, it's literally just sleeping beauty but worse. If Saturn wasn't stripped of all her strength despite having an arguably stronger form, Nehelenia would have died in 5 seconds, i dare you to look at her death reborn revolution from season 3 and tell me queen darknessMg over here would have survive.

Queen of the dark side of the moon? bitch please, move out the way, the true queen herself, Saturn, guardian of death and re-birth is walking through.

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

as i said there are allot of other thing's i didn't like but il end it here since i don't feel like writing all day and night

there are thing's i liked about it ofc! don't get me wrong, Hawks Eye is adorable, i love him and I'm marrying him tomorrow you're all invited UWU i

I love the Crisis form's so much omg, it looks fucking amazing!!!

watching Tuxedo mask being useful was fun to see!

the list goes on.

I know i sound like this movie pissed me off ( bc it low key did). I expected the same amount of quality as we got from the third season of Crystal which was high key the best this show ever got if Cosmos is anything like the eternal movies. the issue with the movies is that they didn't adapt them into movies at all, it feels like they slapped a bunch of episodes together and called them Two movies. There is simply too much shit in here, some of this need's to get cut. I debated on rewriting the eternal movies myself but I'm honestly not in the mood

[clareguilty]

A Tainted Rescue Part 2

hello! i cannot escape my own terrible ideas! Have more Heisenberg porn! Karl Heisenberg/Maiden Rating: Explicit | WARNING: dark content, explicit smut, big sexy evil guy doing bad things Word Count: ~2500

Lord Heisenberg lifted the maiden into his carriage and pulled her onto his lap as the mechanical horse took off away from the castle. She shook and cried in his arms, whimpering with every rattle of the wheels on the unpaved path to the Lord's domain.

"You're safe now," he promised her. "I'm going to take good care of you."

She clung to him, face buried in his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back in a slow, steady rhythm. Her breathing began to even out and her sobs turned to sporadic hiccups the farther they traveled from that horrid castle.

Lord Heisenberg was extremely proud of himself. He had managed to pull one over on Alcina all while getting a delightful new toy to play with. She was so precious, so perfect. He would have to make sure to spoil her rotten.

Just outside of the factory grounds, covered in overgrown plants, a small stone staircase led up to Lord Heisenberg’s house. He helped the maiden up the worn steps, holding branches out of the way as they ducked through the overgrowth. 

“I never actually use this place,” he explained. “I spend most of my time in the factory. But that’s no place for you. Now I finally have someone to come home to.” He kissed her knuckles as he led her across the threshold.

The lights were electric, and they turned on at a wave of the Lord’s hand. He chuckled at the maiden's awestruck expression.

The house was a mess, dusty and cluttered. It must have been months since the Lord actually stayed there. Narrow and tucked into the hillside, the two story was smaller than Lady Beneviento’s villa but still larger than almost any of the houses of the village. 

“Heh,” he laughed wryly. “Looks like this place needs a lot of work.”

He led the maiden up the stairs and to the main chamber. The room was sparsely furnished with just a low double bed, a wardrobe, and a writing desk piled high with books and papers and the same scrap metal that seemed to appear throughout the Lord’s domain. It was nothing like the opulent and immaculate rooms of the castle.

The maiden let Lord Heisenberg push her to a seat on the bed. He knelt in front of her, squeezing her jaw in one hand and forcing her to look him in the eyes. 

“I may not be as fucked as my witch of a sister, but let me make one thing clear. I am not above killing you. You will stay out of my factory. Understand?”

The maiden whimpered, tears once again threatening to spill over her cheeks. “Yes, My Lord.”

He released her jaw and patted her cheek lightly. “Good girl.” He shucked off his coat and draped it over the back of the desk chair. His hat and glasses were quick to follow. He sat beside her on the bed and unlaced his boots.

The maiden removed her own shoes -- the only things she wore that were intact. Her stockings were shredded, as were her skirts. She didn’t even have any drawers on anymore. The front of her dress was ripped down to her stomach, and she tugged the fabric over her shoulders and out from under her until it fell in a puddle on the floor. She was naked and bruised and marked. She felt filthy, used, ruined. But that was what the Lord said was needed to save her. If he hadn’t done what he had, she would be dead at the hands of the Mistress.

The Lord must have seen her numbness, her distress, because he pulled her into his chest and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Hey now,” he whispered. “She can’t touch you here. I’d like to see her try.” He sounded as if he would welcome the fight. “Let me make you feel good.”

He laid the maiden on her back and nudged her thighs apart so he could kneel between her legs. The sight of the damage he had done at the castle brought a smile to his face, and he pressed his fingers into the bruises that were blooming across her thighs.

With no preamble, he pressed two fingers inside of her, crooking them and stretching her open. The maiden whined and gripped the linens with white knuckles. The Lord was only spurred on by her reaction and added a third finger. He loved the way she tightened around him, and longed to feel it on his cock again.

Despite her inexperience, it was no time at all before she was dripping just from the motions of his fingers. He made sure to bring her right to the brink of pleasure, holding her just on that precipice as he pulled his cock from his pants and lined himself up.

He pressed into her slowly, lifting her hips to meet his and bracing himself over her on the bed. She was trapped beneath him, nearly bent in half as his cock split her open once more. It felt even deeper than before, and she couldn’t hold back her high, breathy whines as he began to move. He moaned as he drove his cock into her harder and harder on each stroke.

“You feel amazing. So soft. So tight. You’re all mine. Just for me.”

“All yours,” the maiden repeated. “Just for you.”

“Oh, you’re so perfect,” he groaned. “She didn’t deserve you. She could never have made you feel like this. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

He reached between them to rub her clit, determined to watch her eyes flutter shut and the moans that tumbled from her lips as she came undone around him.

And it was spectacular. She was so precious. To think she had never known pleasure like this before. He was going to be everything for her. Her saviour. Her king.

She clung to him as she came, shuddering and gasping as he forced her through the blinding orgasm. He continued to fuck her, determined to find his own end as well, but he noticed she was barely responsive. Poor thing, probably passed out from the pleasure.

The Lord didn’t let that stop him as he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. He loved watching his cock sink into her, splitting her open and twitching inside of her. He came to the sight of it, filling her as deeply as possible and rocking his hips as she tightened around him once more. Even unconscious, he was able to make her feel good.

Finally satisfied with his claim, he pulled out and arranged the maiden to lay beside him. “You need your rest. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do with you.”

-

Life with Lord Heisenberg was nothing like serving at Castle Dimitrescu. The Lord was crass and informal, just as quick tempered as his ‘sister’ but never directed at the maiden.

No. The maiden was given special privileges. She was his prized possession, swiped right out from under Alcina’s claws, and he loved to spoil her and dote on her.

He had never had a pet like her before. All of his own creations and gifts from Mother Miranda were mindless and bloodthirsty and horrific. But the maiden, she was beautiful and sweet. She was so devoted to him, her savior. He had freed her, given her everything, and now she lived to serve him.

Her new life was one of endless pleasure and indulgence. The Lord fucked her and filled her and marked her as his own. He loved to ruin her, to claim her. She was so precious, trapped in that castle and hidden away from the world. He wanted to show her every filthy experience she had missed.

She fit so perfectly around his cock, so warm and tight and responsive. He enjoyed her moans and gasps of pleasure just as much as he enjoyed finishing inside her.

He didn’t know he was capable of such softness. He was rough when he fucked her, sure to bite her and mark her. Bruising handprints blooming over her skin after he took her to bed. But he was also gentle with her at times. Praise and thanks and kisses to her hairline. There was a different kind of satisfaction to seeing her smile.

-

The maiden bowed her head as she offered Lord Heisenberg a glass of whiskey late one evening. He had been away at the factory for much of the previous days occupied by his work. The drink was a warm welcome. “Thank you, buttercup,” he pulled her into his lap. “I have something for you.”

He took a gulp from the glass before setting it aside and fishing around in his pockets.

“Aha! Here!” He procured two thick shining bands in his palms. They looked small in his grasp but were still a few inches in diameter.

The Lord grabbed the maiden’s hands. The metal rings levitated before closing around her wrists, fastening as though they were soldered together.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, twisting her wrists this way and that to admire the jewelry. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Now everyone will know who you belong to,” he trailed kisses from her temple to her jaw.

The maiden giggled. “I don’t think there was any doubt of that before.” She was constantly covered in his marks, in his come. He loved to claim her as his in every possible way.

He would fill her until his seed was dripping down her thighs, smeared over her chest and her lips. Make her come until the only thing she knew was his name. He had found all her limits and he knew just how to push past them.

And now he had his steel on her.

She nuzzled against his chest, overwhelmed by the gift. No one at that wretched castle had ever shown her such kindness. Her lips peppered the skin where his shirt was unbuttoned, hands wandering over his chest and arms. She was still so uncertain about her desires. Alcina had certainly done a good job of brainwashing her.

But he had his own conditioning to do. So he whispered encouragement as she slipped between his knees and unfastened his belt. She was flushed and uncoordinated as she pulled his cock free from his pants. “Thank you,” she whispered again before wrapping her lips around him.

She was a good cocksucker, an eager learner and quick to respond to him. She had very quickly grown addicted to him, and he lived for it. Every time he would return from the depths of the factory, she was there craving his attention and his touch.

Now she was even more desperate. He had neglected her in favor of his work, and he regretted it when he saw how uncertain she had become. He would have to train her to handle his long absences. He certainly couldn’t trust anyone to watch over her while he was gone. She was too precious, they would corrupt her. Still, he enjoyed how she couldn’t seem to get enough of him, how dependent she was.

Lord Heisenberg relaxed and sipped his whiskey as she stroked and sucked his cock. He felt so powerful with the maiden on her knees before him. It made him crave more.

After several minutes, when his cock was shining from her lips and she was glassy eyed with lust between his knees, he cradled her head in one of his hands and pulled her onto his cock as deep as she could go. She submitted willingly, moaning at the way his fingers dug into her scalp.

He fucked her face, rough and deep, admiring the way tears spilled over her cheeks and spit dripped down her chin. Her obedience only turned him on more, and he came with a groan, pulling out before he could spill everything down her throat.

She was a filthy mess, come and spit smeared over her swollen lips. She cleaned his cock and blinked up at him expectantly.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled as she melted at his words. One of her own hands had slipped beneath her skirts and she rocked down against it with a breathy moan. “Needy little thing, aren’t you? Can you wait for me? I promise I’ll give you a treat soon.”

The maiden immediately did as she was told, pulling her slick fingertips from beneath her dress.

“What do you say we wash up and call it a night?” He pulled her to her feet, leading her upstairs to the washroom.

The maiden had been delighted to find that the enormous bath upstairs -- though still smaller that Mistress Dimitrescu’s -- had taps that would run the water directly into the tub. A device of the Lord’s own creation heated the water along the way so that it steamed as it splashed into the porcelain basin. The maiden undressed the Lord with enthusiastic reverence, running her hands over his skin as she pulled his shirt from his broad shoulders. He slipped into the steaming water and sighed.

The maiden slipped out of her own clothes and climbed in as well. She lathered soap in her hands and set to work washing them both, massaging the tension from his muscles with her skilled fingers. What more could he possibly ask for?

He could tell how needy she was as she rinsed them clean. Her breaths were quick and short, skin flushed all the way down her chest and up to her ears. If they hadn’t already been in the water he was sure she would be dripping with arousal.

The Lord was tempted to try out his his new trick, but he wanted to wait for the perfect time. So instead he teased the poor girl with his fingers. She slumped against him, begging and pleading as he gave her everything just shy of what she needed.

He pulled her from the tub, drying both of them just enough before dragging her to bed. Laying back and pulling her on top of him, he grabbed her hips and ground her pussy against his length. 

“Please,” she gasped. She looked so cute, begging for his cock. He lined himself up and pulled her all the way down until her hips met his. The shock of being filled so suddenly, stretched around him, made her scream.

He lifted her easily, using her like a doll for his pleasure. She slumped forward over his chest as he moved her hips however he liked. Her broken gasps and moans of pleasure were like music to his ears. He wanted to break her, to see her totally undone by his hand.

She came around his cock twice before he finally pulled her all the way onto him and pumped her full. Even though his body was exhausted from his orgasm, he wasn’t yet sated. Some strange desire still pulled at him. He had already gifted her with the bracelets he had yet to use, but maybe there were other toys to be made in his workshop.

She would be perfect for him.

[isuspectyouhavefantheories]

Search for the Sun 🌞

So this is Part 2 of “the Sun” series.

Part 1 found : https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/640838971892662272/the-crossroads-to-the-sun here!

Ok so, NSFW, I can’t figure out how to make this appear shorter or have it appear under the cut cus mobile Tumblr sucks eggs. You heard me.

Takemura/Female V fic

Rated MA, for mature, sexual themes, read at own risk.

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Somewhere in the Mojave....

“We need a new carburettor for this thing V and someone’s gonna have to re-solder this whole board before we can even do that! We aren’t going to be getting our cargo vans very far like.” Saul sighed, closing the hood of the large van with a heavy thud as he wiped the grease and dust from his hands. His expression was his usual deeply worried frown and she noticed how even as he wiped his hands clean they remained oil stained and grubby. He’d been toiling over engines all day, putting one fire out after another.

“I’ll see what Mitch and I can do but it’s gonna take a little while. We’re already trying to get a handle on repairs to the solar panels and honestly that’s the thing I want to make sure we have fixed before night fall. We can stop for the night, recuperate.” She gave him a pointed look that he only waived off. “I’ll fix up the vans in the morning and we can get going after. We have some time before the next storm, quit your worrying.” V offered, punching his arm lightly, Saul only smiled in return.

“How’d you end up being my second in command? I thought that was supposed to be Panam?” He chuckled.

“She’s got her hands full at the moment.”

“With?”

“Dick.”

Saul balked at her and V only waggled her eyebrows, nodding her head in the direction of a lightly rocking AV on the outskirts of camp.

“Incidentally, his name is also Dick.” She chuckled.

“God damnit, PANAM!” She watched in mild amusement as Saul stormed away toward the aforementioned vehicle to reprimand his second for her blatant public fornication. So she heaved herself forward, ignoring the mild ache in her body and forcing her legs and arms to continue obeying her. V decided that she would save herself the mental anguish of tangling with the solar grid and get out of camp for an hour at the least. Evidently fighting burning migraines and muscle spasms was trying at the best of times, especially when attempting to keep up with her duties to the clan.

She didn’t want to sit around and be a burden on them, regardless of Saul and Panam’s insistence on her getting more rest. In truth, she loathed inactivity, too much time to start thinking, or worse, listening to Johnny, who was still holding out the hope she was going to turn the clan around and storm Mikoshi instead of this slow shicide she had carved out for herself instead. The twilight hours were the worst, because there was nothing she could do, hours she had spent staring at her tent roof, only to give up and lay under the stars, at least then she had something to occupy her. It had been especially hard the last few nights and she had more than once woken to Saul staring down at her with a worried look she would wave off and tell him that really, she was fine, dusting the sand from her and continuing on with her day at camp.

She admired the location for what it was, they had chosen a decent spot for the camp and they had some useful vantage points. Any Raffen trying to get the jump on them would be in for a surprise, they’d see their asses a mile wide.

She pulled Evelyn’s cigarette case from her utility belt pocket, igniting it with a match she then shook out to extinguish as she breathed a long drag.

“Fuuuck.” Johnny groaned appreciatively.

“You’re welcome.” She laughed as she gazed at the expanse of the desert. It’s wild beauty marred by burnt out car wrecks and pile upon pile of garbage. Her eyes landed on yet another old ruined petrol station. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the week previous. Her night with Takemura had been everything to her. Laying there in his arms, basking in the beautiful aftermath listening to him breath as he slept, watching the steady rise and fall of his partially plated chest. She had wanted nothing more in the world than to just stay there in that abandoned truck stop, for the rest of their lives they could be there and she’d have been the happiest woman alive. But as she stared down at his sleeping face she knew she was living a pipe dream.

He was loyal to the bone to Arasaka. She would never be enough, she could never pry those chains from him. Even knowing what she had told him, about Hanako and Saburo, she imagined he had dusted himself off the next morning and returned to his master tail between his legs like the well trained guard dog they made him into. Why wait until morning to watch him fumble and ruin a perfectly good fuck, one for the history books, by seeing him slink back to the clutches of the Emperor’s family? Just to feel the raw sting of his departure, the rejection in his blind obedience to the people that saw him only as a pawn to be played. No. She decided to rip the proverbial band aid off. She was a quiet and stealthy thief, expertly manoeuvring around him in silence and then pushing her thorton far enough out of ear shot from him then just... driving away. She had to admit, it was shitty. To just leave him there without so much as a goodbye. But she knew if she had waited it would have been another day of trying to convince him to let her go.

Or he might have even managed to convince you to go back to Arasaka.

Johnny’s interjection to her train of thought startled her and she watched him materialise, cigarette in hand, perching with his legs dangling from a delapidated hoodoo rock a few yards in front of her.

“I wouldn’t have gone with him Johnny. I wasn’t going to just let them shred you into bits, fuck man, gotta give me more credit than that.” She was annoyed he could even insinuate such a thing, especially given where they now stood.

“You didn’t take your blockers during your little roll around with Mr Miyagi.” He groaned and her cheeks immediately flushed a deep crimson. “I know you were thinking it for a moment there in the... aftermath.” He sighed, looking down at her from his perch.

He took off his aviators and pursed his lips as if he was about to say something pivotal to the narrative but more than likely just as irritating as his previous comment so he decidedly closed his mouth, thinking better of it and returning his gaze to the endless desert plains. The fact that she could read him so well now was not lost on her.

“I wasn’t going to let them hurt you. Believe it or not you’re my friend, Johnny.” He glanced down at her again and a smile attempted to tug at the corner of his lips but he put his shades back on and coughed into his closed fist to cover it up.

“Well thanks. I guess. Doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re done for as is I suppose.” He breathed out a plume of holographic smoke that seemed to float off into the desert. “But you’re still thinking about him.” He deadpanned, making her sigh in irritation.

“Look.. it just kills me because... Goro was my friend too. And now he’s...” she smoothed her hair back from her face, letting her hand slide to the nape of her neck and head drooping down to look at her weathered and scuffed steel toe boots, her tool belt slung across her hips, held together by the tied sleeves of her blue net running jumpsuit she had to wear half down due to being in the beating sun while working all day. She could see her skin was already blistered with another light sunburn but also some sun freckles newly blooming. Her hands, more calloused and rough now than in her entire career as an amateur merc. She frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now Johnny. I know that I shouldn’t keep living in the past but... let me at least mourn. Please?”

“Alright, alright. I get it. Here, just take some advice from a guy who’s had to... leave behind a few broken hearts in his day. Get drunk. Get fucked. Get angry. Get over it. Always worked for me anyhow.” She rolled her eyes at the rocker boy, letting her hand fall to her side, taking the last drag of her cigarette wasn’t even appealing to her so she quickly flicked it away.

“Aw.” Johnny grumbled. “The cherry is the best bit!” He whined but she ignored him. V made to turn back to the camp but some faint movement along the horizon caught her eye. She pulled out her binoculars and got as close as she could to the slightly glimmering and fast approaching object. Upon closer inspection she realised it was a car. And not just any car.

His car.

She froze, glued to the vehicle rapidly approaching the camp.

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

-———

He admitted to a small amount of apprehension about this move to approach head on as he pulled up alongside the Basilisk, giving it a long stare and praying silently to whatever gods were out there watching over him that he had found the right Nomad camp this time. He had already had to blast his way out of two raffen pits as of yesterday and wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of having to do so again.

A tap on his car window brought him from his thoughts and he rolled it down.

“What brings you here, friend?” Mitch asked, Saul and Panam on the sidelines, iron at the ready.

“I apologise for the intrusion. I mean you no harm, I am simply attempting to locate someone. A friend.” He explained.

“Who’s your friend?” Saul called after him.

“Her name is V.” The Nomads grew quiet, looking between each other. “Perhaps she has passed by here? Stopped for supplies?”

“Excuse me?” Panam sputtered.

“V doesn’t have ties to Arasaka anymore. Suggest you move on.” Saul moved closer to the car window, pushing past Mitch.

He leaned his arm against the top of the car door frame, letting his revolver rest against it in a menacing if threatening show of dominance. This here was the Aldecaldos stomping ground. And he’d be dead in the ground before he let some corpo asshole get their hands on V. Takemura’s eyes hardened a moment on the large nomad, his hands righting on the wheel now as he internally scanned the area with what limited tech he still had to work with. She searched for her signature but either his implants were all now truly offline or she wasn’t here.

“I am not with Arasaka.” Takemura thought he would feel pain at uttering those words, but if anything, each word made him feel lighter.

“Yeah sure. Just covered in Arasaka cyberware, driving around on Arasaka wheels, wearing a full on uniform for their security detail. Totally.” Panam quipped.

Takemura sighed.

“Anymore.” He amended, but the trio still eyed him sceptically, he felt it best he stayed in the car for now.

“Is she here?” He questioned, quickly surveying the camp to try and find her himself, a small kernel of hope planting in his chest as he looked through the small crowd that had gathered by them, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her but Saul’s hand reached out for him roughly, pulling him up to the open window by the front of his shirt with a resounding clunk.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at here but if you think for a second I’m just gonna let you-.”

“Saul. Stop. It’s cool.” Takemura’s head whipped over Saul’s shoulder to the source of the voice. His heart clenched painfully upon seeing V finally.

She was a vision. Almost like a beautiful mirage that had been conjured up by the desert heat and his possible dehydration but upon closer inspection he knew it had to be her. Her every freckle and scar burned into his memory, he would know here anywhere, even caked in soot and sand.

“V, come on, we don’t even know if he’s got people tailing him. We’ve already got our hands full with Militech for Christ’s sake, let’s not go adding to that pile.” Saul glared down, unconvinced by Takemura’s own words.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought he was a danger. He’s not. Please just let me talk to him.” Saul groaned but he made the mistake of meeting her gaze and knew there was no telling her no so he released Goro and opened the door to the car.

“Out. Follow her.” Saul grumbled, hand still leaning against the top of the door, but before Takemura could step out funny a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Try and pull any funny shit though and I’ll drop your ass myself. No hesitation.” Takemura hadn’t realised just how big Saul was before but did not let that deter him.

“I will be sure to keep it in mind.” Goro responded in an uninterested tone, not really registering him, only focusing on V, before quickly making his way to her side. He reached out for her but she had already turned away and was walking up to a trailer, ascending a small flight of stairs before reaching the screen door. She threw him a look over her shoulder and motioned with her head for him to follow.

—————-

Once inside the privacy of the trailer V rounded on him, her eyes filled with confusion and anger.

“What the fuck, Goro?” She hissed. “Why are you here?”

He swallowed thickly, never realising that even through all his fighting to get back to her side, he had never even put his reasoning into words. And he had always had a defined reason for everything he did, it was something he was fucking known for. But now, standing here he couldn’t even begin to rationalise any of his actions, only that being here now already felt more right than anything in his life ever had. He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. She noticed his silence but was quickly distracted by his haggard appearance. Her eyes widened however at the lack of the dim lights on his cybernetics.

She reached for him cautiously, her fingertips brushing against the red outer wiring of his throat that no longer glowed with the hum of electronics and now simply shined in the dim light, essentially now just useless plastic.

“Your implants...” she whispered, tracing her finger down the line of the metal overlay of his neck and to the edge of his jaw, Goro watching her every motion with laser focus. “Why are they..?”

“They were deactivated when I failed to return a few days ago.” he wanted to reach for her, to touch her, that’s all he’s thought about day and night since she left him. “I was starting to think I was going to die out there before I found you.” He chuckled softly yet he inwardly savoured how close she was, her scent, near unchanged since their night together. The scent was now infused with a small background of motor oil now that clingged to her hands but it was strangely fitting for her.

“Why?” She whispered angrily at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

He raised his own hand now to weave with hers, holding it to his heart as he stared down at her with so much sureness, so much care and devotion that she felt unworthy.

“I defected, V.” Her eyes widened at him but still she said nothing. “I am... I can’t go back. If you only have a short time left, then... there isn’t anywhere else I want to be. I want to be here with you, I don’t want to miss a second of you ever again. I-.” He closed his eyes, terrified to see her reaction but was nearly sent spinning as she thrust herself without warning at him, her arms suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. His own arms instinctively wrapped around her, returning the embrace yet part of him still feared the worst.

Did she pity him? Is that why she said nothing? Was this her letting him down gently? She was always too kind for her own good.

“Goro... oh my god.” She breathed against him and he tightened his grip around her burying his face in her neck, breathing her in deeply. Feelings of peace, serenity, a meaning in his life he had been searching for ever since he escaped the slaughter house of Chiba-11. He thought that meaning was to serve those who had uplifted him from that barbaric place. But they didn’t save him. They used him.

It was this tiny trembling powerhouse of a woman that barrel assed her way into his life and irrevocably entangled herself with him, she had been the one who reignited his purpose. Opened his eyes and never lied to him. She had never left him behind. Only when she thought he was truly beyond her reach did she finally resign herself to letting him go.

But now, in the security of her arms, he knew he was never going to let that happen again.

“I can’t believe I finally found you...” he breathed, letting the feeling of her arms around him be engraved deeply in his heart, the lines on his face began slowly relaxing as he stroked the dip of her back gently.

V finally looked up at him and he swiped away some stray tears from her slightly flushed cheeks with a curled finger before caressing them in his hand fully. He stared down at her with an adoration she had never imagined him capable of, it felt to her as though she had never been truly seen before now and could only grasp his outstretched arm and reach for the back of his head pulling his face closer to hers when he finally moved forward, reuniting her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Her fingertips grazed over his jaw lightly, drawing a sigh from him and letting it meld into the kiss as he tried desperately to hold her closer.

She pulled back from him but his lips trailed after hers again, loathed to be parted from her just yet, but she placed two fingers on his lips to halt his pursuit and worry shot through him again.

“I think we should explain to the clan before Saul comes in here and decks you.” She chuckled, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek sweetly and he leaned into her touch, the sudden panic receeding, before smiling back at her and nodding. She made to move to the door, hand already pulling the handle open when his own grasped her free one and interlaced their fingers, grinning like a cat down at her.

“So they don’t shoot me on sight.” He joked, V could only huff lightly but her own smirk betrayed her feigned annoyance.

“Hush. Be nice.” She snipped.

They stepped out of the trailer and at the bottom of the stairs to the trailer was the holy Aldecaldos trinity themselves. Panam looked between the two and their interlock hands with mild confusion first before realisation dawned on her and she mouthed ‘that’s him?’ rather more obviously than she thought she had but never the less winked at friend.

Goro looked down at her curiously but V just shook her head.

“She’ll tell you herself at some point.” V whispered, leaving him far more confounded than before.

“So? What’s this about?” Saul stood in front of them now arms crossed but glaring heatedly at Takemura.

“Drop the tough guy act Saul come on.” She shoved him playfully but Saul only scowled deeper. “He defected.” Saul’s eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment but suspicion reaffirmed itself at the forefront of his mind once more.

“Bullshit.” Saul spat.

“I left Arasaka because I no longer believe in them.” He looked down at V’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I believe in V. And she has put her trust in you and your clan. I wish to stay with her. You know that... she does not have long.” She squeezed him

back at this, hearing the slight waiver in his voice at that but he continued. “I will work, I will do whatever is needed of me in order to stay by her side.” He bowed his head politely and Saul was at a loss for words, casting his gaze back to Panam and Mitch but only receiving a tired sigh and a shrug from Mitch and a rather heated scowl from Panam that said ‘if you don’t let the ninja stay I’m going go get an emp and blast an AV out of the sky again’, and Saul could only sigh tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm in a gesture of defeat but his eyes spoke an understanding and no inherent objection to the arrangement.

“Alright. You work, like the rest of us. We all pull our own weight here and there’s plenty to do.” Panam fist pumped in the air and squealed with glee, making V laugh at her antics but Saul gave her an exhausted look before grinning devilishly. “ Since there’s another mouth to feed and person to arm, we’re gonna need to do a recount on inventory. Thanks for offering to do it Panam.” Saul rounded on his heel, making for his own tent as the orange pink swash of dusk settled over the desert. Mitch followed after while Panam gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before departing to her new hell, inventory.

“Look at you guys, just the picturesque happy couple living on the edge of the law, running with nomads, being all in love and shit. Warms my cold dead pixilated heart.” Johnny drawled as he leaned up against the trailer.

V chose to ignore him but grinned Takemura wrapped his free arm around her and rested his head atop hers as he rubbed loving circles into the small of her back, she sighed into his chest and grinned like a fool. Nothing was going to bring her mood down. Not raffen, not Johnny, not the broken to shit solar panels.

She groaned suddenly at the memory of her ever growing list of chores left.

“V?” He questioned, straining his neck down to see her.

“Fucking solar grid.” She hissed ruefully into his shoulder before pulling away.

“I’ve got some solar panels to fix and a carburettor to solder before the day is over.” She groaned, but Takemura squeezed her reassuringly.

“Lead the way.” He chuckled.

“You want to help?” She asked incredulously.

He brushed his hand through her soft chocolate brown coloured locks, twirling the tail ends around her shoulders between his thumb and index. He had a feeling his new unconscious obsession was going to be her hair.

“I’m going to have to learn aren’t I?” He chuckled. “And I have a feeling I’m going to like being your student. Lead on, sensei.”

She giggled before pulling away from him, hands still interlaced as she tugged him towards the solar panels on the far side of camp.

—————

“Welcome to solar grid maintenance 101, class is in session.” She announced.

Goro sat on a rock beside the van, next to the start of the solar grid that went from the back of the van to the further reaches of the edge of their camp, with a small group of four guarding the grid perimeter at all times. He noticed a few of them giving him wary or curious looks but did his best to ignore them. He was sure in time he would seem less threatening but he knew he would only achieve this through time, example and not relying only on shows of good faith. He leaned forward, arms resting against his knees, watching as she peeled back a flexible plastic covering over the front of the panel, uncovering a plated and wired grid he assumed is what absorbed power from the Sun.

“Ok, so. You need a fully wired and calibrated solar panel, batteries, a charge controller and an inverter.” She gestured to each item in front of her. “Once you have these it’s just a matter of following instructions. Then you gotta figure out what your output is gonna be, simply calculate watt hours by using each of the electric tools and machinery’s power ratings, multiplied by the time in hours it will be running...” He continued to listen to her intently, taking mental notes as she went on and was pleasantly surprised by how much she knew. The woman was practically a walking, talking encyclopaedia for off grid living.

He imagined she had learned this with her original nomad clan.

“And... vóila!” The grid hummed to life, the electrical tickering and slight glow from the panels confirmed this. “And tomorrow you’re gonna help me dismantle, clean and stow them.” She slowly rose from her kneeling position but wobbled a bit, Takemura’s lightning fast reflexes kicked into action and he reached out to stabilise her. She gave him a sheepish yet thankful smile.

“Are you-?”

“Just light headed, I stood up to fast.” His levelled gaze cut through her, narrowed eyes studying her intently. “And we’ve been sitting in the sun for an hour. I’d say I could go for something to eat though. Haven’t had anything since last night come to think of it.” She pulled away, attempting to move away from the subject of her health as quickly as she could, but her hand stayed resting open palmed against his chest as she stared almost through him. She still couldn’t believe he was here. Standing next to her in the flesh. She couldn’t even really fathom eating right now but she knew she had to at least try to keep her strength up. But fucking damn. Of all the ways this day was going to go, this was certainly not one of them, not that she was complaining.

His finger captured her chin and tilted her gaze to his, pulling her from her thoughts as if he could sense her inner turmoil.

“What is the expression, ‘I am here for the...’ ah.” He looked up to think an moment as if the phrase was written in the sky before seemingly finding it among the clouds and looking back down at her, grinning from ear to ear. “‘I am... ‘In this for the long haul’, as you say.” She snorted a laugh at him letting her head fall foreword against him as he pulled her further into his embrace. “So stop looking at me as if I’m going to suddenly disappear.” Her fingers squeezed his in response and she looked up resting her chin on his shoulder now.

“Promise?” She whispered, making his chest rumble in laughter.

“Yakusoku.” He affirmed before kissing her forehead loving.

————————————

They had eaten their fill of some synth beef chilli at the camps mess tent and Goro wasn’t about to disclose how much he had actually enjoyed the hot meal. Wandering around in the desert for a week he had been living off of whatever least expired protein bars and soda cans he could find, which had been almost as awful as the scop burgers and noodles in night city, but at least they had been some way warm.

They had made their way to V’s tent which was set up next to her Thorton and some work benches and a trailer with two bikes standing in it. He recognise one to be her beloved Arch and the other a gold and silver heavy terrain 700cc bike with the clans name spray painted boldly along the side of it.

“Here we are. Home sweet home I guess. For now.” She sighed, flopping down into her large sleeping cot with a heavy plop. Takemura stood awkwardly for a moment before fastening the entrance flap closed. There was a fold up chair and two electric lamps illuminating the small space. He suddenly felt out of place but V was quick to pick up on his uncharacteristic fidgeting, giving him an inquisitive glance.

“Cot’s a bit small but we can manage for tonight. Or there’s another cot in storage we can go and-.” Takemura shook his head.

“We can manage.” He grinned sheepishly and she giggled at him, taking a seat on the edge of the cot, patting the spot next to her as an invitation to join her. He took two long strides and he was at her side once again, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned his head gently on her shoulder. Leaning into him, V interlaced their free hands together, marvelling at how well they fit together.

“You must be exhausted.” She sighed, extending her hand to his face where she swiped away a errant few strands of silver hair that escaped his otherwise well kept topknot, her cool fingers a welcome sensation against his forehead.

“Not really.” He stifled a yawn and she looked up at him pointedly, his own gaze eluding her.

“Evidently.” She chuckled, but a sudden flash of inspiration hit her and she grinned up at him.

“What are you doing?” He asked warily as she began to slink herself around to kneel in front of him, her hands running up and down his thighs in a firm yet teasing trail.

“Well we do have a lot to do in the morning and you require a good nights sleep for what’s coming.” He eyed her suspiciously but couldn’t help the small grin threatening to tug at the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t possibly let you lie awake all night and screw yourself over tomorrow.” She ran her hand over the growing bulge at the apex of his legs, which he opened wider as she settled between them.

“V...” he breathed his head beginning to loll back and eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching she she unzipped him and pulled him of the confines of his suit pants, his member springing free, already fully hard. She gave him some light pumps, enclosing her fist around as much of him as she could. He wasn’t a monster in size, but impressive.

“Speaking of impressive cocks.” Johnny’s voice pierced her mind and she wanted to scream. “Can we leave mine out of this. Please, if yourself gonna fuck the corpo grandpa just take a fucking omega blocker so I don’t have to as well.” She shook her head and sighed, pulling away from Goro.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Is something wrong?” He breathed.

“Just gotta take something before I forget.” She smiled back at him reassuringly before popping two of the red pills.

She turned back to him and something about seeing him sitting there, disheveled clothes, cock standing to attention, lips parted and panting lightly in anticipation, sent a rush of some indescribable feeling through her system. He watched her hungrily but patient in his pining, she couldn’t help the heat between her own legs beginning to rise. She locked their gaze, lips still curved into her signature teasing grin and she began to pull off her tank top painfully slowly, dragging it up to her chest. He watched her relieve her body of the sweat and dirt stained cloth throwing it over her head and groaned lowly when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath save for her tattooed flesh. Lotus flowers bloomed colourfully at her shoulders, and just between her pert little breasts. He traced them with his eyes and felt his body tense in suspense as she saunter toward him, a sultry sway in her hips saying she knew exactly what she was doing to him. She sank down to her knees again before him, her fingers wrapping around his still hard manhood making him hiss at the contact before a strangled gasp tore from his throat as she resumed pumping him again. He reached out his hand to touch her but she slapped him away lightly.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She wagged her finger tauntingly at him, then running them down his chest back down to curl back around his member, giving him a tug that made him groan once more. “Look. Don’t touch.” She then began to lower her lips to him, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as she encased him in her warm pink lips, her devilish tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cock. He moaned louder as she moved against him but forced his hand over his mouth to stifle himself. They weren’t alone out here so he had to remember to control his vocalisations but she was not making it easy.

He leaned back further down on his elbows watching her intently through hooded eyes as she devoured him, her mouth sinking down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt letting him hit the back of her throat with an audible gag that made him whine in need then gliding back up, dragging her lips back to the tip, letting her tongue swirl around him a few times before swallowing him once again. He struggled against his urge to fist his hands into her hair as she kept up her ministrations, fearing she’d stop what she was doing, because what she was doing was so fucking good he thought he was going to die if she didn’t finish.

“V... please I’m going to....” he gasped, one hand stretched out behind him as he bit the knuckle of his other hand to surpress his cries.

He felt her chuckle against him, his end so close he could practically taste it as she continued to bob energetically against him. A few more pumps and he had to bite his knuckle so hard he drew blood so as not to roar from the force of his climax, blowing his load in her mouth which she swallowed it readily. He swore he saw stars for a moment, a blinding light show all of his own as he rode the high for as long as he could until he fell back against the cot, attempting to catch his breath as V released him from her mouth with a faint pop.

She pulled herself up and crawled over him, resting her chin against his chest that now rose and fell erratically from his ragged breathing, waiting there patiently for it to even. He lifted his head to look at her, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead but a stupidly pleased grin now plastered his face as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb tenderly. He held her there for a moment, unsure if it was the aftermath of his climax or the low lighting of the tent, but to him, right now in all her dishevelment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. He dragged her up to him, lips meeting hers at last, tasting her felt like home, regardless of the lingering taste of himself on her lips. Goro pulled her closer to deepen the kiss before pulling away to gaze at her agin. She was the one panting now, her full pink lips, that had only a few moments been driving him to near insanity were parting enough for him so see her devilishly nimble tongue and the flush dusting her cheeks was starting to do things he didn’t know could be done, his member already twitching to life again, slowly but surely.

“You feeling more relaxed then?” Her laugh, like a tinkling bell, brought his attention back into the room and he could only smirk down at her slyly.

“Partially.” He lifted himself up fully wrapping his arms around her then flipping them so she was trapped underneath him. “But I’m afraid I’m more awake now than I was before.” He whispered, lowering his lips to suckled at her collarbone where he began to trail a searing line of bites and kisses down her chest, stopping to tease her nipples as he lavished them thoroughly, leaving her shivering and gasping uncontrollably beneath him. “The opposite of the desired effect I think.” He chuckled lowly, lifting his hand to her mouth and clamping firmly over it to quieten her mewls while he began to drag the fingers of his other hand up to the bottom half of her netrunner jumpsuit. Untying the sleeves he pulled the zipper further down to the end. It reached just above her mound, a few more inches on the zip and he’d have been able to access her. Shame, he though but immediately tugged the skintight nano plastic material down over her hips, her purple thong coming with it. He didn’t pull it all the way down, allowing the material to bunch at her knees before pulling back, letting both her legs stretch up to rest against his shoulder as he stared down at her, a shit eating grin breaking over his lips as he soaked in the sight of her, trapped in his web. She huffed at him in mild displeasure at the loss of control but her eyes widened when she felt his fingers trace her slit softly. His arm curled around her legs, anchoring them against him as he continued to tease her.

“What are you-?” He silenced her with two fingers plunging inside her, making her arch her back as she barely managed to stifle a moan. He thrust his fingers into her wetness again and again, all while his gaze fixed on her face, contorted by pleasure as he took delight in her every twitch and convulsion.

He let another finger enter her, curling them, tickling a sensitive collection of nerves inside her. Her juices dripped down his hand, his attention switching down to where his fingers pumped relentlessly and he felt himself moan at the sight of her absolutely soaking his hand. He felt his cock strain against her thigh but he ignored his growing need. He had work to do. She nearly cried out when he stopped, her eyes finally fluttered open to see him gazing down at her, smirking triumphantly above her.

“Hey.” She pouted, wiggling against him only making him chuckle quietly.

He pulled her legs free finally, tossing the jumpsuit to the far corner of the tent but trailing his hands from the underside of her thighs, to the under side of her ankles, yanking up sharply which pulled her further down the cot so her ass now rested on his lap. Her ground himself against her, his free member brushing against her slit as he draped each of her legs against either shoulder. He leaned foreword her legs stretching to rest nearly by her ears with how flexible she was. Without warning he entered her, both of them gasping quietly. He filled her so completely, V let the feeling wash over her until he began moving at an achingly slow pace. He found purchase at the head of the cot, using it to drive himself harder and harder into her. Reaching up she caressed his head in her hands, his eyes closing at the contact, savouring it, then opening again to see her.

His breath hitched in his throat, not just at the majesty of her wild curls fanned out and framing her so perfectly. Not at her being stretched and splayed out for him, like a cover pin up they used to sneak into the army barracks, back when he did foolish brazen things like that, no. The trust in her eyes. She was letting him take control, letting him take her, however he wanted. She wasn’t scanning the room for the nearest viable exit like she did in every room or so far away in her mind he wondered if she could even hear him above the noise of the engram erasing her. She was right here, willing and ready for him. He wasn’t going to last long, not after already climaxing earlier but he refused to leave her hanging, letting his thumb roll her clit firmly, over and over. He leaned forward to swallow her cries as she came undone beneath him, his own release coming not to far behind her.

He leaned back, letting her legs down on either side of his hips, but stayed connect with her. He leaned back into her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose then her lips, making her smile sleepily against him.

“You’re still in your clothes.” She taunted against his shoulder as he chuckled.

“It’s hard to think about anything clearly with you around.” He mumbled against her neck.

“Hey, don’t you dare fall asleep on me dickhead.” She snorted, poking him enough to make him groan then move to the side, allowing her to stand up from the cot. She walked over to a duffel bag where she pulled a loose white shirt from and threw it on. The fabric reached her knees and he scoffed at how small she was.

“Oi, no sand in my bed, get those dusters off.” She ordered and he sighed, pulling himself from his bliss to shed his coat and other garments leaving him only in his boxers. He fell back into the cot heavily, rubbing his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. She rejoined him, crawling and moulding herself into his side while his arms immediately snaked around her as he buried her face into the crook of her neck, V stroking his hair soothingly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he went to sleep without knowing where he was going to be tomorrow and not caring in the slightest.

[adrieunor]

to both eat well (1/?)

Pairing: Din Djarin & Original Mandalorian, Din Djarin/Nice things. (F)Mandalorian Reader (but largely GN in this narrative.)

Rating: T+ (may change in the future) 

Word count: 2.4k 

A non-linear, paint by numbers friendship. Can friendship be slow burn? It can now. A gratuitous excuse to lore build Mandalorian culture, with a side of speculation on Din Djarin’s place within it from the perspective of another Mandalorian.  Narrator is an apprenticed armorer (fool) who ends up making all those whistling birds Din Djarin uses (in excess, she’d argue.) 

Completely disregards S2, and picks and chooses what it wants from canon lore. I strongly think Din Djarin needs a friend who will look at his crusty, bachelor life style and go, “bitch, you live like this??”

Does revolve around a faith (The Way), what would constitute cultural practices for a fictional group, and food-- so if food-talk is not your thing, I won’t mind if you skip this one. No beta, because fuck man, just take it. 

******************

The beroya has a name. You know it, that knowledge floats somewhere in the back of your mind, as light and as useful to you as dust and fine spiderwebs. His name holds little distinction, as memorable as the names of the rats the foundlings catch and train for pets; the same level of import to you, which is to say: very little. 

Vizsla speaks it, more than once. But you always remember Vizsla’s cadence more than his words. The barely hidden sneer in his voice. 

There are many who consider Vizsla too rough, his bulk as intimidating as his temper. 

Succinctly: an asshole. 

Which, to be fair, you don’t deny. But you also think he’s just got a lot of –ness to him, with no place for it to go down below in the tunnels. A heavy infantry like Vizsla is meant to win wars, but there are no wars to be won and the tunnels only stretch so far for his presence. 

You understand, at least in part; if you were displaced outside your forge, tossed above ground where the expanse is simply unending, you’d be an asshole too. 

A tunnel baby like you has no place above ground, leave it for the infantry like Paz Vizsla or the hunters, like—

Well. Anyway. 

So you like that about Paz Vizsla, for all his –ness it’s the right kind of stuff; his intentions are in the right place, most of the time, even if his words are as blunt as his fists. 

Which might be why you end up, out of all the mando in the tribe, to sit beside him at meal times. 

Which also means you end up, out of all the mando in the tribe, to listen to him gripe.

Paz does not suffer in silence, he’d sooner let someone else suffer the brunt of his frustrations. The tribe has learned to let it be you, as Paz would only dare to raise a hand at one of the few individuals who knows how to service his armor.

He speaks it again, spoken lowly in the gathering hall, his helm ducking in deference to the old matron who serves tonight. You know better than to hold the line up, serving Vizsla a generous helping, two and a half ladles, before passing the ladle to him.

“A quarter,” you say, and he hesitates—“I’ll get more after this.”

That’s enough that he obliges. The ladle’s handle is so small, dainty, in his hand as he scrapes its lip against the rim of your bowl to catch the drips before returning it to the pot. You eye it for a moment—it was good enough, but it could be better.

(A tribe the size of yours hardly needs two blacksmiths at once in the forge; you wouldn’t dare voice it to your teacher, but you’re growing bored.)

You finish your thanks first and, before he’s lifted his head from his own, you’ve already placed the small bowl of red flakes by his hand. Vizsla grunts, rapping his knuckles against the table—my thanks to your consideration.  

You tilt to your right, letting your helm brush against his arm—you’re welcome—before your hands move to lift it from your head. The soft release of a valve and Vizsla’s buy’ce settles besides yours on the table.

The beroya had come that day, dropping off another fistful of meager credits to Teacher. Paz, because he was Paz, had shouldered into him in the entryway to the forge. Words had been exchanged, blades had been brandied, and your Teacher had, once again, interrupted another fight between two grown men.

And now Paz was taking it out on his food, which, by its glaring color, had already seen a generous fistful of spice in the kitchens.

“You don’t like him.” It’s not meant to be more than a passing comment, your thoughts more tangled with the fragrant, savory grains before you, but you’ve gone and poked the bantha—sigh.

Who had cooked today? Vox? Roe? Either mando always took to heart heat when it was their turn. Too far, maybe, but you’d be teased mercilessly if you voiced this. It’s been years since you ate from the children’s pot.

(You spare a thought for the considerably lighter, fragrant stew that had bubbled next to the adult’s. It had looked good. You like a savory, sweet porridge, but you like preserving your pride more.)

Your fork scrapes against the wooden plate. Could you sneak another drink, or would it be too telling?

“He is arrogant,” your vod grouses. “He’s been on the surface too long and thinks himself above the rest of us.”

The bite of his words is lessened by his sniffles. You pass your cloth to him, and he blows into it messily. You won’t be asking for that one back.

“A mando who will not sit to sha’kajir does not consider us tribe.”

Speak of ill tidings and they will arrive. No, you amend, that’s not very fair, is it?

The beroya enters the room and, like hands clasping over little ears, the voices of the hall lessen to a murmur. If he cares, he doesn’t show it, not in the tilt of his buy’ce or the set of his shoulders.

He walks a straight path towards the simmering pots over the fire; no one gestures to him in greeting and he makes none. He serves himself, bypassing the Matron who had stood to regard him. A single ladle of hot grains, a comically small portion compared to your companion’s own serving.

He turns. No one moves to offer him seating, though there’s plenty.

The beroya strides out, his cape flutters before he disappears around the doorway. Not once had his unadorned helmet bothered to look left or right.

A beat passes before the hall returns to its rumbling conversations. You fold your hands into your lap, meal forgotten, as your eyes slide from the empty doorway back to your plate of yellow and orange.

“Is it arrogance? Or devotion?”

Vizsla breathes in sharply. You’re not sure in response to your question or to clear his sinuses.

You press on, fingertips to fingertips as you speak to your plate, “Is it not our Creed? Perhaps he holds what is sacred only to an audience of himself.”

Even from your own mouth, you find it a lonely notion.

You’ve heard outsiders think that never means never—but, then, how would you eat?

What stronger way for warriors to grow closer, outside of battle, than this? Your weapons forged in fire, the food that fills your belly warmed by the same flame.

How could one build and solder and mend bonds if not through the intimacy of eating well? Bare one’s proverbial neck and trust that your company would protect you at your vulnerable, commune with you to eat and be strong?

Sha’kajir is trust, is sacred no matter how plain the fare. To eat with your tribe is to be loved and protected, and to love and protect in turn.

Thank you for attending to my needs, thank you for letting me grow strong in your company.

You probe, cautiously, “What does it mean for a mando to eat in private—where the only time he can remove his helmet in the company of others, he abstains?" You break decorum, plain words sound best now, when you wish to speak plain truths: “Isn’t it… isn’t it lonely, don’t you think?”

(Who does he thank if alone? Who lets him grow strong, if only just him?)

“Then he thinks his own company better than his kin,” Paz decides, pushing his plate away.

You turn your head, and you don’t need a mirror or a visor to know your own expression is pitying; the love you hold for the Way is made from the same sinews and muscles that love your people—your eyes, no doubt large and dark the way Paz despises, go to his jaw, his ear. The intimacy of looking into his eyes—the thought of it alone!—you wouldn’t dare in such a communal space.

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

You watch the ear twitch as the jaw clenches and your eyes slide away, downwards.

The beroya walks an adherence to the Creed stricter than even your own leader, adherence unheard of to the point of isolating—alienating, ostracizing. It scratches at your thoughts in a way your vod are unwilling to address (how strange for normally direct people!).

“What should make him sacred only makes him more profane in your eyes, then.” Your stomach turns, the food does not agree with you. And you’re not sure you agree with your own thoughts.

Your rumination is broken by a snort, Paz folding his own large hands in front of his empty plate. “You sound like your buir.”

You recognize it for what it is: conceding. Your friend will not push this with you, not when you’ve barely touched your food. Your hand comes to hover over your forgotten spoon, and you murmur the words that always come when nothing else is enough. “This is the Way.”

“Eat,” Paz says, nudging you, “Eat and be well, vod.”

******************

Paz Vizsla is gone now.

Away, somewhere. To the winds—if he lives.

If he’s gone—no, you squash the thought before it continues. You did not see his helmet among the piles, no sight of a dark blue cuirass fallen by the wayside of the tunnels.

He would not like you so unsure.

You need to be strong.

******************

Teacher grasps the back of your helmet, bringing your foreheads together in a bruising clunk. 

“Ad’ika,” she says, and she hardly gives time for you to suck in the shuddering, wet and wretched gasp that tears from your throat, “Go, go with him.” 

This isn’t your teacher, nor your armorer. This is buir—her voice as familiar as hammer to anvil, for all that it wrecks your heart into a mangled heap now. 

“No, no, no.” You shake your head, scraping temple to temple, beskar to beskar, but you do not break her grip. You cannot, for how tightly her leathered hands grasp your helm. “I will not leave you—I’m not finished—” 

“Ad’ika, you are mine—”

There’s a ringing in your ears and someone is crying, like a lost foundling. Like a child. It might be you. It can’t be. You haven’t been a child in so long now. Not since your first blade, your first kit-- you’re spiraling.  

You cannot hear all that she is saying over your own protests. 

“—made you in my image, and you will not end here.” Buir snarls, fisting the thick weave covering your shoulder, “You will listen to me, I command it.” 

“I don’t want to go-”

“I unname you.” 

Three words so cleanly severing you at the neck, you nearly buckle to the ground if not for her hold. 

Buir breathes, one great breath of calamity and resolution. 

“I release you. Your hammer your own. Your fire your own.”

She taps her helmet once more to yours, gentle despite her fierce grip, before her fingers loosen. 

“Leave me.” 

******************

You climb into the boat, limbs stiff and spirit shaken. Shock. You must be in shock. Nothing else can describe surely the ice that’s settled into your stomach. Your beskar has never felt cold before, not once, not ever. 

It freezes you now, despite the heat that surrounds you. 

Your mastery should have been spectacle, celebrated by your covert. 

Your severing – your exile – should have been private, the end of your bond held in silence. 

Instead, it was witnessed by outsiders, who awkwardly shuffle and part way for you. Ignorant to what they’ve witnessed, blind to the turmoil that nearly burns you inside your own armor. 

Din Djarin will not look at you. 

The only thing that stops you from jumping into the lava is the dishonor it’d bring to your beskar. 

******************

Later, later, later: 

He only asks, once. When it’s just you and him, awake. The foundling, asleep. Turning in his seat, he looks at you for the first time. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been held in his attention, not once, not ever. His fingers flex, like they’d rather hold a blade or a blaster than whatever conversation he’s ramping up to speak. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“With you?” 

The unembellished helm tips forward. 

You turn your head. “No.” 

He doesn’t ask again. You stand from your seat and go down below. 

******************

You don’t remember what you do. 

It’s only with a jolt that you find yourself staring at an open panel, plainly marked boxes of rations stacked neatly side by side. Wherever your spirit had gone, its dumped itself back into your armor. 

The Razor Crest moves underneath your feet. It must be subtle, but for someone who has lived their entire life below in the tunnels, it’s jarring enough that you feel unsteady. You bite your cheek and brace yourself, this will not be what breaks you.

There’s no way to tell the passing of time on the ship, but your helmet’s display tells you hours have passed since your narrow escape. 

You should feel hunger, feel something, but you’re hollowed out and only routine keeps you climbing up the ladder to the beroya—Din Djarin.

The foundling coos at the sight of you, but his father shows no other sign than the tapping of his fingers against the ship’s controls.

“We need to eat.”

Seconds pass and you think he’s choosing to ignore you, before his voice breaks the silence. “There’s food below.”

“Yes,” you say, tilting you head, “I found it. Will you… Will you share food with me?”

The words sound awkward, stilted out of your mouth.

“Take what you need.” Djarin lifts a hand, a wave, and you press your lips tightly together—you’ve never…you’ve never had to ask before, like this.

“You misunderstand.” Your fingers curl into your palms, but you will not clench them, despite the roiling in your stomach. Hunger or nerves, you’re lightheaded. “Will you sit and eat well with me, vod?”

Djarin stills in his movements, as if he was not already so still before. You imagine it has been a very long time since anyone has called him so familiarly, not with the wide berth he is given below. He turns, slowly, and regards you.

You don’t know him well enough to read him; you can’t decipher what the tilt of his helm means, or the way his fingers flex before he looks somewhere to your left.

“I’ll… I’ll eat later.”

Oh.

Your stomach twists, painfully, but your mouth is dry as ashes. Okay.

Any longer in this shared space, in your humiliation, and you might fold—and you are not brittle, you are not made of weaker metals.

You turn, dismissed.

No murmuring conversation. No crackling flame. No gentle hiss of helmets being placed respectfully side by side. Just the one, just your own, set beside you.

Sitting on the floor with your legs crossed, in the hull of the ship—the belly of a beast that takes you farther and farther away from all you’ve ever known—you are, for the first time in your life, alone. 

Fingertips to your lips, you close your eyes. If your eyes prickle, sting, you can pretend it’s from the spices you’re imagining.

When you open your eyes, vision only a little blurry, the meal is still the same. The reconstituted food is plain, the portion meager and colorless. You think of the mandalorian in the upper deck, and you recognize, now, the hesitancy in his voice at the offer you’d extended.

Din Djarin who has, to your knowledge, never taken his helmet off—eating alone, being alone, surrounded by a community but still singular. Still solitary.

Still strong, in spite of it all.

Lonely, but devout. Profane, but still Mandalorian.

(Firm in his hold to protect a foundling, but unsure of whether he trusts you, when you call him kin.)

You can respect that spirit, even if you don’t fully understand.You must, if you want to live. 

Above in the cockpit, you know he can’t hear you--let alone your thoughts.

You thank him, anyway, and eat.

******************

Notes: Likeeee...I just don’ttt buy that a terribly tight, secretive community of people who consider being warriors and caring for your clan a core tenant wouldn’t eat together. I think there’s SO MUCH TO UNPACK FROM s1 Mandalorian culture glimpses we get that go totally unexplored in s2. I also fucking love the parallels between jedi and mandalorian, who TALK FUNNY (FORMALLY) and have their OWN mysticism whether they wanna admit it or not. The ARMORER? RIDICULOUSLY cool character that goes unexplored. My solution? Here’s a fanatical apprentice mandalorian who loves nothing but beskar, beskar, and the work. 

I don’t think a ship is gonna work out here. I genuinely think my little beskar goblin is too obsessed with her forge and, now, the wellbeing of the only other clan mate she has to even consider bumping uglies with anyone. She is...a workaholic and obsessed with her calling. Songbird will shake herself out of stupor soon enough to curse Djarin for his negligent maintenance of his most important weapon-- his body! 

So yeah, come talk to me about my own headcanons for why Din doesn’t remove his helmet among his own kin, when they likely do among themselves. If this has piqued your interests at all, let me knowww and I’ll add you to the tags. 

[heli0s-writes]

On the Shoulders of Giants*

Summary: The world is a heavy burden to carry.

A/N: Stucky x Reader. 1.6k words. Smut.

It begins in the desert, perhaps. Under the sweltering Sahara glare flaying the very skin from your back. Between fine grains of sand—sharp with windstorm.

On the ridged mouth of a shared canteen, taking turns prudently lapping the only water left for the next several days. Two concerned glances at your chafed-red brow and hushed whispers when you trudge ahead.

Is it too soon?

Maybe in Antigua—that hotel where the three of you shared a room with the greenery outside peeking in. Soft and pale gauze curtains fluttering in the breeze. The humid air wafting over necks and exposed shoulders.

Maybe it begins with stolen glances when Bucky sits by the window with a book, splendorous in sunlight. Different than the desert. Delicate. Steve laying an ice pack on your shoulder, settling longer than he should. Jerking your attention from the window with his tongue, lashing admonishment to conceal the worry.

Last night was too close. Again.

Or, maybe in a place more ordinary. The front lawn on a muted and moonless night with your terrors simmering in your mouth. The compound’s lights glaring so starkly it chases even the North Star away.

Nothing but a breeze and a memory. A coincidentally timed breath from three sets of lungs and the scent of an onerous exhale, wet with wine and confession. Conversation nicked off with a palm faced forward at you, a scolding from his familiar deep voice, dispelling the stifling miasma of shame and self-sacrifice and duty.

On the point of their incisors cleaving into your melancholy.

At the start of Steve’s silence and the last echo of Bucky’s heavy heart when he suggests, “Put the world down, honey.”

Two pairs of blue, one soldered steel, the other glimmering green, following your irate footfalls across the yard and back into the confines of the facility.

They turn to each other under the ink, and maybe it begins there.

-

A press of lips to lips. Chest to chest. Steve takes the lead in Minsk with his toes pointed at yours, head ducking down with necessary patience, asking. Mouth open, only minutes ago holding back a curse, now still. Sweet.

The three of you slick with blood and sweat, hearts like war-drums pulsing adrenaline in the back of the Quinjet. Throats raw and hoarse from screaming at each other in a demolished building.

For an instant, you’re dizzy, and it feels like a mistake.

Then Bucky anchors you back to earth while the frigid world continues howling outside.

The mission could be categorized as a success. Objectives were met, enemies were neutralized, hostages were rescued, and the write up will outline perfectly the night when the three of you tore through a Hydra cell and left nothing but the burning shambles of its structure—a crumbling skeleton laid bare in the snow.

Yet, the stain of a single extinguished life was all you saw inside. A boy. Sixteen, at most-- taking his final breath in a capsule. And Bucky had screamed there was nothing you could do over the gunfire. The boy had been dying for days, maybe. Weeks. Months.

But you were lost in the gaunt concave flesh of his cheeks and the parting of his dry lips.

Lost in the way his face resembled your own face when they found you after the kidnapping. Lost following the puckered trail of holes in his wrists and neck— injections. Experimentation. Torture.

So lost that when the bullet ripped into your leg you hardly felt it.

“Put the fucking world down?”

In the cabin of the jet, it grows livid with venom until it splatters onto the tip of Bucky’s boot. Steve, true to form, steps in, advances until your heel finds the wall.

Small and eclipsed by his mass, you still snarl and pound your fists on his chest, wrath only incurred further by his quiet. Incurred by his dismissals. By his willful ignorance of how you fucking feel.

“How? How can I when that—” Sharp thrusting motion of your arm, flexing like a wire about to snap. “When that is still out there? Or did you forget?”

To the right, a pair of shoulders sink with a sigh, heavy from the night’s pitiless gravity.

Bucky returns to your attention with his earnest eyes searching your face and his sincere mouth calling your name softly. Always too eager to settle the argument with his calm—too eager to be the martyr between tempers. Silent while the flames lick him charred.

“We haven’t.”

Blue meets red and the fury dissipates as Steve’s hand grazes your cheek. Well-worn gloves brush a strand of wayward hair from your temple, warm leather tips trailing down to your chin. He blurs when the wrath in your nose thaws into anguish.

“You want to carry that weight.”

“But you can’t.”

The guilt comes and chews holes inside your belly.

Bucky touches the wound on your thigh, poorly patched with uneven gauze carelessly wrapped. “Not all the time. Not everybody. Not without losing yourself.”

Of course they haven’t forgotten. They stayed by your bedside for weeks, after all. Worked you back to health. Cared for you. Carved out space in their hearts for your return home.

A twitch of your mouth that they track with their eyes. A reddening of your nose they lament. Steve’s thumb flattens the first beaded droplet against your jaw. Wicks the rest away behind your shoulder. His words vibrate through your body, sinks right into your bones.

“Can’t lose you.” Regret. “Not you.” Grief. “Not again.” Heartbreak.

He’s the mouthpiece for both, speaking the truth they’ve hidden. Mission after mission, growing affection for someone too much like themselves. Except fragile in all the ways they aren’t. Only human and only woman. Mortality lives in the forefront of his mind. Loss and fear rear their heads to remind him of the month you spent captive.

Every time you lean too far into a fight, Bucky’s eyes are on him, frantic.

Golden hair falls forward as Steve bends, lifting your chin until you meet his gaze.

Bucky watches too, echoing like a disciple. “Won’t lose you. Not ever again.”

And your world freezes, stuck in the arctic tundra of Steve’s measured observation until Bucky’s hand finds your back, easing you forward, melting time back into motion.

-

Back home, pressed between them, your heart picks up a beat too frenetic. Gloved hands find the buckles and zips of your suit— makes quick work of them. A shift and a groan and Steve’s just as exposed, all warm and hard, dragging you to the floor. Bucky behind, hand knotted in your hair, tugging your neck revealed, pulling a gasp open before he smothers it shut.

The flight left three mouths hungry and kiss bruised. Autopilot steered a course through the clouds pierced with starshine and landed while you remained entwined in them, taking turn finding lips and stealing breaths. Needing more.

You’ve thought about it, many times, safely inside the borders of your imagination. Always looked away before someone noticed. Over the years. Over sand dunes. Inside rainforests. The Sahara. Antigua. Kowloon and Key West. All coordinates in-between.

Envisioned the rough calloused pads of their hands contrasting soft and warm lips. How they might hold you—perhaps like that night. Bucky’s arms beneath your trembling body, pulling you into his lap. Steve knelt over, breath fanning warmth over your face. The fragile sob that left when you heard them.

We’re here. We’ve got you.

Envisioned how they might mirror each other. Two souls entwined over the century like twin flames, flickering bright but blue, come to burn you in ecstasy. Come again to save you from agony.

 They shimmer like heat waves now. Like the way light refracts in water. Or like the way your eyes unfocus during the high of a blistering release. Imagination could never do them justice. Your own hands never could never blaze so hot.

“Come here.”

It rages desperate in the darkness of Steve’s room. You chase it with two at your heels, scrambling for purchase, freeing adoration entombed for months or years—you don’t know. Unsure now where you even exist when all you can feel are their hands and lips.

Monoliths. Saviors. Gods.

Like a fever, stretching your very cells apart and twisting you around in devastating fire. Frenzied arrangements of limbs until the puzzle fits—too eager to even make it to the bed. Steve’s tongue in your mouth, drowning whimpers. Bucky gripping your throat, sucking reminders of them on your chest. Someone’s hand between your thighs, palm slick. Rubbing ardent patterns on swollen flesh until they both plunge.

A hovering touch over the bandaged wound, barely-there flutters of fingertips to the bruised skin around. Hardly registering when your entire body feels shattered to bits by them.

“Don’t do it again.”

It sounds like punishment. For arguing. For endangering yourself.

“Can’t take it, honey.”

It sounds like love. Desperate to be known and suffered.

It spreads all over. Chains your soul to its magnitude and sinks its teeth in deep. Fills up your entire being until it pours out in a weeping litany of their names. Between Steve and Bucky, you sob, quivering and encased in their arms. Like that moonless night.

We’re here.

It sounds like devotion. Lifted. Exalted.

And lift you, they do. Send your soul flying. Take you up into the sky and let you reach the clouds and the heavens with a single resonant cry. Gasps and stutters following a flood of exhales running over your bare back. Behind your eyes is the rush of the milky way, a million and one lights splintering your breath.

When your body drops, the stars fade. Above, darkness returns viscous with memory. Bucky brands a kiss to your nape, bruises it tender like your insides. Murmurs a plead into your shoulder.

“Put the world down, lover.”

Steve moves a damp strand behind your ear, finger trailing over your lips, tucking affection inside your cheek.

Together now. Melted by it until three blends into one.

We’ll hold it up for you. We’ve got you now.

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire​ @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523​

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Fallen Angel (Venable X reader) Part 4

So, I went back and read the past instalments of this series and oh my I enjoyed it. I swear I enjoy my Venable stories the most out of any of mine ever. Also realised I left out details that I need to include in my sequel and some I need to add to this one so... I fixed the minor problems and might have fixed another. I mean no one is analysing this but I like to have details correct. The only issues I saw was that I mentioned in part one was the character used to wear glasses so I have to add that to the sequel and that I said that the character was an inch shorter than Michael (in my head Michael’s about 5′10) but I forgot to mention like in the sequel the character wears four inch platformed boots (similar to the ones that all the cool goths wear) I added that in to this part but it might be forced. Oh well. 

I hope this chapter isn’t two jumpy. 

Prequel Link: The Angel Among Us (Cordelia x reader) Plot: The event’s leading up to Y/N joining Michael and the Cooperative.

Summary/idea: Two strangers come to ‘save’ the occupants of outpost 3. Neither are what they seem.

Warnings: N/A

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 (Will add as I go)

“When was the last time you took a break? Had some fun?” You splayed yourself out on the chair in front of her desk, one of your legs flung over the armrest. The fabric of your skirt flowed perfectly down the gap between your legs. The material outlining where your frame ends giving Venable a rough idea of your body's frame while unfortunately still being clothed. Her eyes stared at you with an unquenchable level of thirst. She cursed you for wearing that long skirt.

“I have fun-” 

“I bet you do.” You rose from your chair, your skirt elegantly falling back into place without the need of adjustment. You prowled closer, eyes drifting around the room, refusing to give Venable the attention she deserved.  “Torturing the residence.” Your hand swept against the surface of Venable’s desk. “I had to stop myself from laughing when I heard about your little ‘incident’ with Stu.” You turned to her, smirking. “So clever, I would never have thought of something like that.” You were so close to her; she was forced to look up at you. She didn’t feel the urge to stand or push her chair back, that would show weakness (and standing wouldn’t help since you were taller) but not only that, she didn’t want to. “But have you ever thought about your wants? Needs? Desires?”

“What are-” Your close proximity froze her in place as if your coldness had spread to her. She memorised all your details, the alluring smile that tugged her closer to your presence without having to move. She found your temptress ways magnetic. 

“Come on V,” you purred. You elegantly found your place on her lap. When had you gotten there? Her hands were clenched tight around the armrests of her desk chair in an attempt to ground herself. Her mind was in heaven, but her body remained on earth. 

“-It’s Ms Venable to you.” She stuttered. You chuckled, it was deeper than your normal, forced high pitch voice. This was natural. You were yourself? Must be an act, Venable would have thought if she hadn’t already fallen for it. You leant against the edge of her desk, peering down at her.

“Are you sure about that?” She couldn’t speak so she nodded. You chuckled. “Alright, Ms Venable. Is there anything I can do for you?” Your hand found its way to the waist of her skirt, pulling it away from her body to only to play with the fabric.

“Y-Yes, you can-”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

Venable’s eyes flew open. She huffed before easing herself out of bed. The knocking continued, Venable yelled out that she heard the first time. Who dare disturb her slumber? Mead stood at the door; the woman apologised before informing her of two purples breaking the copulation rule. Those two purples were going to pay for interrupting her dream.

She found the two in the chamber they use to clean the exposed and execute the ill-behaved. The two purples, Timothy and Emily stood their ground, confronted Venable about her made-up rules. She pulled Mead to the side and requested for her to make it as painful for the pair as possible. Mead happily agreed. Venable exited heading back to her bedroom to relieve some stress. 

Disturbed once that night was enough. Twice that night when trying to make up from the tension build for the first time was ridiculous. She didn’t expect to find a shot Mead expelling white fluid from her wound nor the damaged circuitry. The woman wasn’t even human. Her closest resident/worker was a robot, that’s got to be some cosmic joke. She’d spent a large amount of years working for those dim-whits at Kineros Robotics but for god’s sake she has HR not a robot scientist. 

She did the best job she could, “I think there’s a damaged cable and I can’t tell what it’s connected to-” she sighed. Weren’t you working on the generator, you’d have to have some experience in order to do that right, or at least have a better clue than her? “Stay here, I’m going to get some help.”

You weren’t in your room, Michael’s office or her own. She checked your secret getaway. The lights in the main room were already on. She closed the door behind her before calling your name. She didn’t gain a response forcing her to continue the game of hide and seek. 

She found you in the generator room tinkering with the machine. You had stripped down to your undergarments to avoid getting oil on your clothes. Venable’s eyes widened, her cheeks tinting to a shade of red as she didn’t expect you to be lacking clothing.

“You work in the nude?” You jumped at the sound of her voice. “You’re barely covered, you might as well not wear the additional fabric. It hides your best features.”

“If I knew you were stopping by, I would have worn less.” You wipe your hands on a rag.  You thought about what she said, “Wait- how do you know they’re my best features if you haven’t seen them?”

“You could always prove me wrong.” 

You smirked. “That’s not why you're here.”

“I need your assistance and not in that way.” Unfortunately. 

“Can I go like this?”

“And risk someone else seeing you like that? Get dressed, I’ll fill you in on your task on the way.” Once dressed, Venable walked you to her room, filling you in on the night's events. “I thought you’d ask more questions.”

“It’s not surprising.”

The damage wasn’t too bad, nothing that could be fixed by soldering the metal together. Venable observed the whole process. You checked in with Mead as you worked as she was sentient and most likely felt pain. You extracted the bullet placing it into an empty candle holder. You hid that of view as you fused the broken cable. When the bullet was seen again it was a mouldable putty constancy that you covered and blended over the entrance wound to stop anything from getting inside. The only problem was you couldn’t cover up the patch she was shot, a silver ‘wound’ would remain. 

“If you experience any problems” you said to Mead. “-or you notice any problems,” that to Venable. “Notify me immediately.” You pick up your gear and back them away. “Night Ms Mead, Ms Venable.” You exited before Venable could say goodnight back. You called her Ms Venable, that’s odd. As much as the woman would have loved to join you back in your secret getaway, she had to stay and catch up with Mead. 

You hadn't been spotted wandering about in two days causing Venable to grow nervous. She scoured every corner of the fallout shelter three times before she found you curled up on your bed in the least amount of clothes you could wear in winter. You hadn't bothered to climb under the covers, nor undo your hair from the style it was done up in. Your clothes tossed to the floor; an outfit she hadn't seen you wear before. She was unsure where you obtained your clothing but put it down to you having put it aside until you came here. 

Venable ventured closer to your bed, moving as silently as she could with her cane. She stilled when she reached the closer side to the door (saving her the unnecessary effort of walking further than needed). Your back was fully exposed to her, the faint markings of a white tattoo gone wrong, resembling more of a removal of a piece than a work done itself. It left your skin with a scarred embossing in the shape of wings.

She reached out to run her fingers over the scarification. Were the markings an attempt of beauty gone wrong? Intentional? Or a memory of a time you’d tried to forget? She was surprised she hadn’t noticed it when she last saw you lacking coverage. She hadn’t had long to take in your physical body before you noticed her presence.

You stirred causing the red head to stiffen. Her gaze darted to you; afraid she’d awoken you. You mentioned you’d spend your days in your now shared secret location. You avoided answering how often you spend your days there. This could have been one of the potentially rare times you slept and she dared to disturbed you.

“Hmm~” You wiggled under her touch, moving into the warm hand. “It’s too early,” you mumbled in a soft but childlike voice. “Five more minutes.” Venable chuckled a deep, throaty laugh at your response. You felt over your body trying to find the woman’s hand. Once you wrapped your hand around hers you smiled sweetly. 

“I missed your presence.” What did she just say?

“I haven’t been anywhere Dee.” Venable pulled away from your touch. ‘Dee?’ No that couldn’t be right. She must have misheard. She a hundred percent said ‘V’. Who would ‘Dee’ be anyway? “Baby?” You weren’t talking about her. No one called her baby.

“Dinner’s in an hour, if you aren’t dressed and there in an hour, I’ll send a grey to drag you there.” You tensed up, your mind realising your mistake. You spun around to stare at the outpost leader with a look of pure horror. She refused to acknowledge you as she left your room shutting the door behind her. You cursed under your breath.

The woman held herself together as she ventured down the corridor. She passed a few greys and two of the purples on her way to her quarters. Coco and Gallant knew something was up when they passed her, and she didn’t make a snarky comment.

For a moment you gave her hope, that someone was capable of showing interest in her. She was wrong. Tricked into having feelings for someone then- no, don’t think about it Wilhemina. She crumbled on her bed, allowing her emotions to get the better of her. 

You got changed putting on a black blouse with ruffled sleeves and collar. The collar had a dark purple and red brooch in the centre appearing like a choker over top of your clothing. Paired with the same long black skirt and shoes. You felt ridiculous, not understanding Venable’s' thing for Victorian clothing (or a slightly modernised version of it).

You made an effort to show up to the dinner 15 minutes early. Five minutes you were expected to have taken you place at the table; Ms Mead requested a word. You moved off to the side, to ensure you had complete privacy. 

“Ms Venable will not be attending dinner this evening.”

“...Okay~ Why does this concern me?”

“You're the highest ranked member present, you’ll take her place this evening.”

“What about Mickey?” He wasn’t there but you assumed he’d be considered the highest in rank in the outpost and have the rule offered to him.

“I was given explicit instructions from Ms Venable that you were to take her place in the unlikely chance she couldn’t attend.”

“Alright~” This had to be something to do with earlier. That’s why she wasn’t here. “I’ll be at the head of the table. Uh~ Can you tell the greys to place her dish aside? I’ll see it gets to her later- personally.” Mead nodded before leaving you to command the purples into a night of wonder. How hard could this be?

“Where’s Venable?”

“Are you our new outpost leader?”

“Are you here to announce who got in?” God, this was going to be a long night.

Venable couldn't wallow in her own self-pity all night. You showed her a room you used to escape, maybe she could use it two. You were bound to search for her, she'd only be delaying the inevitable.

Once there, she didn't know what to do with herself. She recalled what you’d said to her, “I’m not telling you what to do...it may be good for blackmail or getting to know your residents, guests or workers. Again, it’s down to you.” The cursor on the search button, who to search up? Start with someone simple… boring, to test the waters. Jumping to the guests would be too risky, Venable thought. It was your machine so she could search you up and who knows what Michael knows about this room. A resident would be fine, but who?

She typed in Coco’s full name into the search bar and pressed enter. She was easy enough to find, she had an Instagram page with 5k followers, not as much of an influencer as she claimed to be. The further she scrolled the more she sees the woman’s desperate attempt to become famous. The earliest photos from late 2018. She turned to the book you’d told her about to see if there was anything interesting in it when she caught a glance at the monitor to her right. She noticed the option to log in bold lettering. She doubted she’d find anything interesting, maybe a deleted photo where she thought she looked back or didn’t get a lot of likes. She clicked on it, the computer automatically filling in the details for her. You must have done some programming since then. 

Venable now had access to all her deleted and archived photos. The left monitor gave her all the details to Coco’s account, especially when it was created, 2012 which means there are six years of photos missing. Venable scrolled through all the photos again, the occasional new photo with less likes than the rest.

She reached the photos from 2018. Things got more interesting. The whole layout of her. There were photos of her and a group of young women who all appeared to be having a fun time. Unlike the others these women were stereotypically beautiful, they were normal, everyday people, something her page lacked prior. She was curious as to why Coco suddenly changed her entire page. She recognised the grey the girl ordered around. In this photo they were pals.  She kept scrolling down, slightly more interested than before. 

She stopped on one with the caption, Hands down the best teachers ever. A group of women posed for a photo, the younger ones (including Mallory and Coco) from before messing around. There were multiple photos in that post, but it was the first that caught her eye. To the left of the women mucking around was two women, an older blonde woman and- you?  Your arms loosely wrapped around the significantly shorter woman, holding her close to your person. 

Your voice popped into her head and that out of place question with it, ‘Have you ever been in love?’ You had asked when you’d been brooding. ‘You aren’t missing out on much... I thought I was in love once. I wasn’t myself... We had a falling out. Conflicting morals.’

So, there she was, the ‘love’.

‘...-and Coco's assistant Mallory- I know all about her...I'm sure it was pure coincidence that Coco's family were on vacation at the time of the apocalypse and not some external sources doing.’

You knew them and you never mentioned it to her. You must have had a falling out with the lot of them- you mentioned moral differences, was Michael that? Or was it simply a parting of ways? None of them acted like they knew you; they couldn’t have forgotten you if what Coco’s caption stated, were one of the best teachers, how do you forget the best? There was more at work than you were letting on and she’d get to the bottom of it. 

You were stunning as usual. You were a natural beauty even in the layers of clothing you drowned in. Golden wire framed glasses that perfectly framed your e/c eyes and made your face more adorable. From the height you were compared to Coco, Venable assumed you wore your staple platform boots that you’ve worn religiously since your first day. You’d told her that the only reason you hadn’t warned them was that day was because walking on rocky ground in four-inch platforms and spraining your ankle wasn’t the best introduction. Venable detested that you were naturally taller than her and then still decided to wear those ridiculous shoes. She guessed the world wouldn’t be able to handle you if you were short, it might explode from you being too cute. Venable chuckled, blushing as she thought about you. Wait-she’d meant to be angry, upset. She couldn’t be upset at you. She blamed that blonde who infected your mind.

The blonde you had your arms around looked familiar. Was she active in the public? Venable took a screen clipping of the woman before running it through the computer's search engine. An interview popped up along with a collection of articles about a school of witches in New Orleans. The blonde lady you were more than comfortable around was the head of the coven, the supreme as she called herself. Venable knew she wouldn’t like this woman. She was gorgeous and if she was as powerful as she claimed, she could understand why you would like her.

Meanwhile at the dinner, you had to listen to the purples complain about Venable for half an hour. Mead hadn’t stepped in which surprised you, maybe she expected you to say someone or order her to stop them.

“Alright, just because the woman isn’t here doesn’t give any of you the right to speak about her,” You projected your voice to the purple’s. “I thought you guys wouldn’t be dumb enough to speak about anyone negativity especially since she has the power to kill you all and no one will be stopping her this time,” the last bit directed to the young lovers who got their arse saved because Michael stopped them from getting killed. “The saying ‘the walls have ears’ exists for a reason. Did any of you notice that Mead or any of the workers were listening? One word of what you’ve said tonight gets back to your leader and you're done for. So, you best all apologise now.”

“She’s not even here-” Coco said. 

“Do you want me to bring her here and have to explain why I am making you all apologise?” That would be worse off for all of them. The blonde ‘influencer’ shook her head. They all apologised. “Good. Now once you're done you can wash your dishes. The greys on dinner can take the rest of the night off.”

“What?”

“My orders were clear. What do you not understand?”

“You want us to work?”

“Yes, Gallant. Need I remind you the only reason you're a purple is because Vanderbilt was kind enough to persuade the woman you’ve all been insulting tonight to allow you to be a purple.” You settled back down in your spot. “Mallory you too can have the night off. I know Coco will end up making you do her work. During the next hour while they are working, you can use the hot water in my quarters to freshen up and relax if you like. I know the greys don’t have good showers.” Mallory thanked you.

“You have hot water?” Coco asked peeved that they had access to hot water this whole time and she didn’t know.

“Yes, and if your behaviour impresses me, I may allow you to use it two,” You said to Coco. “However, Mallory would you be kind enough to fetch me the last plate before you take your night off.” She nodded and left to retrieve the plate for you. You looked at all the purples in front of you. “What are you waiting for? Get to work.” Everyone stood up and tucked their chairs in. “Oh, Dinah, you don’t have to help, you didn’t do anything.” Once you had Venable’s plate you left to find the woman. 

"V?" You called out into the darkness. Down the other end of the auditorium, you saw a small pinhead-sized light where the piano was. A low-pitched sound echoed through the auditorium. You crossed the floor to get to her. "I brought you your dinner."

"I'm not hungry." She pressed another key. Similar in sound to your tone death ears. 

"Come on please eat. It's only one meal a day, I'm sure you're hungry." She shook her head then played another key. You gazed followed her left hand to the keyboard. You nudged her to move over on the bench to make enough room for you to squeeze on.  She did it without complaint. She’s never been this deathly silent. You guessed you’d have to be the one to initiative the conversation. "Do you play?"

"I used to as a child. My mother forced me to play the instrument to show off to her friends,” She told you. She refused to look in your direction, not that you minded- at least she was talking. Venable avoided thinking back on her past. She was the only child of two not so loving parents. Venable learned from a young age to keep a good appearance. Her mother made the family to appear far wealthier than they were. Her mother’s circle always chatted about luxuries that they couldn’t afford- not to say they didn’t have them; they were in deep debt as a result. Her father- well Venable couldn’t remember much of the man; he was always out. She didn’t blame him, the moment she could she was gone too. Wilhelmina was deemed the family disappointment in her mother's eyes. Her back along with an assortment of other health issues she had as a child made her an easy target. As a result of her ‘shame’, she was forced to make up for her deformity through her grades but as always, they were never good enough. Her mother forced her into learning instruments, started with the piano, then moved onto the violin. If you could name it, she knew how to play it. Go to school, come home practice, do homework, sleep, repeat." She said. "I used to loathe the routine. I haven't played since I was a teen." Venable pressed another key. "I tried out your computer."

"-and?"

"You lied."

"About what?" She remained silent. "V, what did I lie about?"

"You don't care about me." Who could, she was unlovable.

"Why would you think that?"

"You said her- your ex's name- you still-"

"Mina- '' you try to take her hand, but she moved it away. "I do still- hold feelings for her but by no means am I not into you. I- love is crazy. I wasted years on a woman that couldn't see that I loved her, did that stop me? No. I waited. Far longer than I should have. I got the girl, but I don't think I ever rightfully had her. I was hyper fixated on my work, she on hers, it wasn't the right time. She's dead now. Killed by the man I work with. Do I still love her? Yes, but it's the idea of her I am. The reality was never really, truly mine."

"I don't get-" what you are saying?

"You won't get it. I don't even."

"Oh, god, my mother was right, I am unlovable."

"No. You are loveable." You pulled her so she was forced to face you. "Mina you are loveable."

"No one else would agree."

"Then they are wrong."

"Who do you know the others?"

"Who? What?"

"The Vanderbilt girl and her grey."

"How-is this relevant?"

"Answer the question."

"I can't- it won't make sense."

"Your ex was supposedly a witch, that's hard to believe."

"So am I." You guessed, it was more of an identity and you had to choose to identify as one, but the power wasn't a choice. If the witches counted Michael as a warlock then you could bend the imagination for you. Venable didn't believe you. "We'll, that's actually a human thing. But for your understanding, let's just say I am."

Now were belittling her? Human thing? Can’t you give it to her straight. She can take it. 

"I knew you were full of nonsense but this-"

Nothing added up about you. You spoke about times that would have occurred before you were born. Now that she thought about it, you’ve never mentioned how old you were. You’ve spoken so little of yourself, she hadn’t the slightest clue of the person you were before.

"I'll prove it,” You said.  “I'll … correct your spine."

This caused her to look at you properly for the first time since you joined her. "What?"

"Yeah,” You leapt up and faced her. She turned her body to face you. “It can't be too hard, I read about this sort of thing a couple years ago. I have my power back so it's safer to do."

“You would- why?”

“It will prove I’m not lying, and wouldn’t it be nice to relieve the pain it’s caused.” Venable teared up. “I’ll fix not only the physical pain but emotional- if you let me.” She considered it. No one had been able to fix it, the doctors- “Doctors are limited to their equipment Mina. I may not be a Doctor and you won’t ever need one again.” Who did you know what she was thinking? 

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“I-I tr-ust y-you,” she choked the new words out. “What do I need to do?”

“First of all, relax, I hate to see you like this.” She took a deep breath. “Second, eat your dinner. Once done, go to your room and change into a dressing gown.”

“I don’t have a dressing gown.”

“Oh... I’ll get you one.” You said. “I’ll be at your room in an hour.” After your final words you headed into the generator room and shut the door behind you.

When Venable made it to her room, she found a black dress gown laid out on her bed. You hadn’t left the generator room, when did you place that there? Magic, she thought, forcing herself not to roll her eye at the concept. She locked the door behind her to ensure that she was not interrupted. No one ever busted in, but it still felt safer to do so, she didn’t want anyone to see her less than perfectly put together.

She imagined the gown to be yours, the fabric was a fine silk. The lightweight material wasn’t something she pictured you wearing but it was on her bed. The fabric was a good insulator and your cold body would have to retain heat somehow. The gown was smooth against her skin. The scent of honey engulfed her. A lovely scent but not yours. Yours was distinct and yet indistinguishable, yours melts her brain making determining the fragrance impossible. There was a hint of smokiness, but it was an underlying due to the potentness of the honey aroma. 

With the remainder of her time, she didn’t know what to do. She rested down on her bed, pulling out the current book she was working through from her nightstand. She propped her cane against the table for easy accessibility. She didn’t know how long you would be or how long it would seem once she got started with her book. She tended to get engrossed the the novel having hours past that only seem like minutes.

Venable yawned, tried from her emotionally driven night. She didn’t understand how you managed to be upbeat all day, she assumed that would be just as tiring as being sad. Her eyes were heavy and after fighting through a few pages she decided to rest her eyes for a bit. She’d be woken up when you knock. You’d have to knock loud to get her to open the door.

The woman felt her hair fall on her face; she went to brush it off when she was beaten to it. The realisation that someone was in the room with her snapped her out of her slumber. Her eyes locked onto you leaning down looking at her fondly. 

“Morning,” your voice was as sweet as the scent of the robe she was wearing.

“What? It’s morning?” She rasped out. Her throat had gotten dry during her sleep. You chuckled, turning to get a cup of water from the bed stand. You must have brought that with you. 

“I’m only messing. It’s only been three hours.”

“You should have woken me.” How did you even get in?

“But you looked so peaceful,”

“I doubt that.”

“Also, it made it easier to work-”

“-You didn’t-”

“I didn’t touch you, in any way. I’m not a beginner,” You informed her. “Also, I would want you awake for that.” You had to turn it into an inappropriate comment. "So, how do you feel?" You helped her up.

"Did- did it work?"

"Why don't you take a look?" She looked at you. You gestured to her bedroom mirror. She grabbed her can on instinct. Slowly she unveiled her back to see no sign of her once curved spin. "You-"

"I did." You said. "It will take a few hours for you to gain your strength then you'll never need your cane again.”

She moved around getting the view of her back from as many angles as she could. "I can't believe it." Venable beamed out of pure joy. Normality at last. It shouldn’t be possible. She would no longer be in constant pain by the reminder of it. At the end of the world, with a goddess of sorts interested in her, is this making it? Had she done something right?

She had turned around fully to take herself in for the first time, she was content with what she saw.

"Believe.” You snuck up behind her resting your head on her shoulder and your arms wrapped around her waist.  “Please.” She didn’t care about your closeness or the fact that your body was pressed up against her back. She couldn’t care. “In me, you and us. "

Venable lowered her gaze. “You’re asking for a lot Y/N.”

“I know but we’re running out of time. It’s only days before Michael’s done with his results.” You spun the woman around and eased her chin upwards forcing her to look at you. “I’m afraid we won’t make the cut.”

“You work for him.”

“For purely selfish reasons. He killed everyone I knew, or so I thought. A fog had been lifted from me. I made some stupid mistakes. I mean I helped him kill everyone. For the end times, wouldn’t you stick with the winning team.” You couldn’t begin to comprehend why you helped the boy. “Oh, and there's the fact that I’m kind of related to him.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m kind of his father’s sister. Not his father on earth but huh~”

“You lost me.”

“Umm~ Okay,” you sighed trying to figure out a way to word it. “He’s the antichrist.”

“You’re the devil’s sister?” You nodded. “That makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No one has that level of confidence, knows everything about everyone, can get their way and be human.”

“When have I gotten my way?”

“You’ve strutted around the place, gaining everyone’s trust unlike your nephew which seemed to be your plan. You forced yourself onto me, got me and you still think you haven’t gotten your way?”

“I got you?” You smirked.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s exactly what you said.”

“Don’t get any ideas-”

“Too late,” you chirped. 

[bitchin-beskar]

Hi! Could you do prompts 12 and 22 for Pedro? I love your writing, and as as long as you are willing I will keep requesting more. Your writing makes me happy and allows me to escape from everything for a little bit which is really nice! Thank you!!!

Anon, you’re going to make me cry this is so sweet, I’m so happy you like my writing! As long as you send in requests, I will happily write for you! That being said, I will be writing a second part to this story. It was originally just going to be a one-shot, but the more I wrote, the more I wanted to split this into two chapters. I’m not sure when I will be able to have the second chapter out, as I have other requests and my own stories I need to focus on, but I promise you will get a second chapter!! The beginning ended up being darker than I originally planned, but I hope you still like it!!

Close Call

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This story is rated M just to be safe, there are mentions of kidnapping and threats of forced prostitution (but not descriptive), so if that is triggering to you at all, please be aware. 

Requested: #12: “I don’t know if I can exist in this world without you.” and #24: “I don’t know where I am. Help me.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

God, you were an idiot. Why, why didn’t you listen? 

Your friends had offered to get you a ride, why had you turned them down?

Cause you were an idiot. That was the only explanation. You’d been sure you knew the way back to your Airbnb, you swore to them that you’d be fine to walk home from the bar. You had pepper spray, you had basic martial arts training, you knew all the little tricks in case you were jumped. 

You should have known better, dammit. How many times has it been drilled into your head that you don’t walk unfamiliar streets at night. You blame the alcohol. You weren’t drunk, but clearly tipsy enough that your judgement was impaired. 

The longer the walked, the more you sobered up, and the more worried you became. You rubbed your cold fingers together to try and warm them. You didn’t recognize any of the street signs, and of course, you didn’t have the address of the Airbnb saved. Your friend had made the reservations, and you hadn’t thought to write the address down, and of course tonight was the night she was out with her boyfriend at the theatre.

You cursed your bad luck as you stopped under a streetlamp, digging through your purse for your phone. It takes way longer than it should to find it, considering the size of your purse. As you’re fishing your phone out, you hear… something. 

Pausing, you listen intently. It had sounded like… someone talking? It had been faint, and you looked around suspiciously. It’s dark, and the streets around you appear empty. Sighing, you figure it must have been your overactive imagination combined with the paranoia that came with walking strange streets at night.

You begin walking again, opening up your phone to check and see if you could find any texts that gave you an inkling of where you were staying when you heard it again. There was definitely someone talking. You tried not to panic, but you could feel your hands beginning to shake, and not from the cold. Maybe it was someone else who was out at night, walking home, just like you were. There was no reason to panic. You turned a corner, and discreetly glanced behind you. 

Okay, now you should panic. Three men, each at least six feet tall if not taller, and built like offensive linemen were walking not even twenty paces behind you. You tried to stay calm, and picked up the pace, walking faster, but not quite at a jog. You listened intently as they rounded the corner, and your heart stopped as you heard them start to move quicker as well. You held your phone protectively in front of you, hiding it from the men stalking you. 

Shakily, you dialed 911, holding it carefully to your ear so that you could avoid tipping the men following you off. You continued to walk quickly, praying for someone to just pick up the damn ph–

“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?” 

You could have sobbed with relief, but instead you answered, your voice as low a whisper as you could get while still being audible. “Please, I need help. I’m walking down the street and there are three large men following me,” you paused for a quick breath, and to check the street signs. “I’m walking by the corner of Maple and Edgewood, please help me.” 

The woman on the other end responded quickly. “I’ll send a cruiser immediately, I need you to stay on the line for as long as possible.” You wanted to feel relieved, but in that moment, one of the men behind you must have realized that you were calling for help, because you could hear their pace speed up into a fast jog. “Oh god,” you breathed, immediately beginning to sprint. “They’re running now, please, please help,” you spoke louder, your breaths coming in pants as you ran. You weren’t worried about staying quiet, not now. Now you were just trying to run faster than the men chasing you.

You could hear the woman on the other end speaking, but there was blood rushing in your ears, too loud to hear her. As your feet pounded into the pavement, you were so grateful you’d chosen pants and flats to go drinking in, as they certainly would have caught you had you been in heels. 

Despite your sprint, you could hear the men behind you catching up. There were tears streaming down your cheeks as you ran, but you ignored them, trying desperately to hold out until the police cruiser got to your location. There was a sudden weight on your back, rough hands snatching your waist in a bruising grip as you went tumbling to the ground. Your head smacked on the concrete, and your vision went black. 

When you opened your eyes, it took you a while to realize you weren’t in bed. For one, you couldn’t see a thing. You blinked a couple of times, and it took you longer than it should have to realize there was something over your eyes, and in your mouth,

Confused, you tried to touch your face, only for you to realize your hands were restricted, bound. Shit. 

Suddenly, the memories came flooding back, the walk back to the Airbnb, the dark streets, the men chasing you, running, running, falling– 

You squeezed your eyes shut, even though you couldn’t see anything, whimpering quietly around the fabric shoved past your lips and between your teeth. God, where were you? There was a sharp clang somewhere to your left, and your whole body jerked, flinching back away from the noise. You listened intently, and realized there were faint voices coming from… underneath you? 

Maybe you were on a second story, or even higher, and you slumped in disappointment. Even if you managed to get your hands free, and the blindfold and gag off, the chances of you being able to escape were slim to none. You curled into a ball as best you could, and tried to keep the tears at bay. You didn’t want your captors to see you cry.

You heard the scrape of something against the floor, and as heavy footsteps began to move, getting louder and moving upwards, you realized someone was coming up to check on you. You couldn’t control the flinch your body gave, and the dark, raspy laugh that followed sent shivers down your spine. 

“Ah, our little guest is awake,” the voice crooned, and you faintly noticed that his voice would have been almost handsome, if not for the dark, twisted way his tongue wrapped around his words. “You’ve been out for quite some time, little girl.”

A hand snatched your chin, and you couldn’t help the desperate whimper that left your mouth. “Aw, are you scared, little girl?” His voice was heavy with a dark amusement as he jerked your chin from side to side, likely examining your face. “There’s no need to be frightened. I’m sure the company we sell you to will treat you well.” 

You could feel the blood draining from your cheeks, and another dark chuckle rang out from in front of you. “Well, so long as you please their customers of course!” His thumb ran over your bottom lip, and you shuddered. “Some of them can get kind of… violent.” His voice lowered, as though sharing a secret with you. “But you look like you could take it. Oh I wish I got to watch them break you little girl,” he leaned in, and you felt something wet and slimy run across your cheek. Oh god, was that his tongue??

His grip tightened on your aching jaw. “You don’t have much longer to wait, little girl. They’ll be here within a couple hours to pick you up.” He patted your cheek sharply, more like a slap. There was a rustling, and you heard his footsteps begin to move away and back down the stairs. 

You wanted to sob, but you held back, knowing that if you broke down now, you were never going to have a chance at getting out of there. You heard the door open and slam shut a couple of times, and you realized they must have left. Listening for god knows how long, you waited to see if there was any indication that there was anyone else in the building.

After what seemed to be an eternity, you began to move, experimenting with how much leeway your hands had. After a couple experimental tugs, you realized your hands had to be tied to something in front of you. Leaning forward was awkward, and your fingernails scratched your skin a couple of times before they were able to grab the blindfold. Yanking it off, you sat back, blinking rapidly to adjust your vision.

It looked like you were in some kind of warehouse, clearly old and abandoned going off of the graffiti lining the walls. You focused on the ground in front of you, and saw this metal ring soldered to the ground, with your hands bound in rope to it. You wanted desperately to rip your gag off, but it was tied too tightly, and you wouldn’t be able to undo it without being able to move your hands behind your head. 

You twisted your hands back and forth, struggling to see the knots in the dim lighting of the warehouse. The rope used to bind your wrists looked old, and the metal ring soldered in the ground had a couple of screws sticking out of it, so you began to rub the rope back and forth across the screws as fast as the rope would allow you to.

Back and forth, back and forth, you weren’t sure how long you’d been rubbing the rope when you heard a snap. The rope loosened, and with a few quick, sharp tugs, the rope completely unraveled, and your hands were free. 

Your fingers flew to the rag between your teeth, clawing at the fabric until it finally came loose, and you pulled it from between your lips with a gasp. You sat there for a moment, hands shaking now that they were no longer bound to the ground. You slowly stood, your legs numb from sitting in an awkward position for so long. 

Once you’d finally regained feeling in your legs, you slowly crept towards the stairs. You had to get out of this warehouse, and as far away as possible before they came back. You’d been on the phone with 911 when they’d attacked, but you had no idea how long you’d been asleep.

At the top of the stairs, you paused, listening once more for any signs of life downstairs. After a few tense moments, you crept downstairs, eyes roving all around you as you descended. The bottom floor of the warehouse seemed to hold some kind of kitchenette and living area. You didn’t do much more than look for the guys who’d taken you, too scared to take in the décor. 

Thankfully, the first floor of the warehouse was empty, and you could have jumped for joy when you saw your purse and cell phone resting on the rickety table in the middle of the kitchen. You grabbed them quickly, before making your way to the door, grasping the handle and opening it quietly. 

As you peered out, you saw it was still night, and you were relieved that it couldn’t have been more than a couple hours. Slipping out the door, you crept towards the bushes lining the warehouse, trying to stay out of sight. You still didn’t see any signs of people but that didn’t mean you wanted to risk it. 

As you reached the back of the building, you realized you had two options. You could either take the road, and risk running into your captors whenever they returned, or you could take your chances in the woods, and hope that you could get far enough away before they got back and found you missing.

Making up your mind, you headed for the dense woods, plunging into the foliage. You couldn’t run through the woods, the undergrowth was too dense, and it was dark, but you moved as fast as you could. You tripped and stumbled over hidden roots and jagged rocks, your pants catching on thorny vines, but still you pushed on. 

You had no idea how long you’d been stumbling through the woods, but you were hopelessly lost. There were no signs of civilization anywhere around you, and it was getting colder. Your head had started throbbing, and when you reached up to rub at the pain, you felt a large lump on your forehead, likely from when you’d been tackled. 

The only comfort was the fact that you couldn’t hear anyone chasing after you. You had no sense of direction or time, the only thought running through your head was getting as far away as possible. It was only when your knees began to give out underneath you that began to look for somewhere to hide. 

You tripped over yet another root, falling to your knees on the forest floor, hands slamming into the soft dirt as you fell. You knelt in the dirt, arms shaking as you tried to stay upright, waves of nausea crashing over you. Black spots swam in your vision, and you fought to stay conscious. 

Once your vision cleared somewhat, you were able to crawl to a small, covered spot underneath a large tree. Curling up underneath the overhang, you made yourself as small as possible, both to try and stay warm, and to make sure you stayed out of sight. 

You were drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain in your head flaring sharply and then dulling over and over. You heard a ringing, and at first you ignored it, thinking that it was just another part of the massive headache. But as it continued, you realized that it was your phone ringing, not your head. 

Fumbling with your purse, you finally turned it upside down in frustration to get at your phone. You couldn’t read the name on the screen, your vision too blurry to make out much more than the answer button. 

You clumsily answered the phone, your cold, shaking fingers missing the button multiple times before you got it right, bringing it to your ear. “H–H–Hello?” Your voice was a whisper, you weren’t sure you could speak any louder, as it suddenly registered just how much your throat hurt. 

“Hermosa, oh dios mío. Sweetheart, where are you? Are you okay?” The frantic voice on the other end of the line confused you for a moment. You knew that voice, but you couldn’t remember where–

“Por favor, sweet girl, please answer me!”

It hits you suddenly. “P–Pedro?”

You hear a gasp on the other end. “Oh dios, sí hermosa, yes, it’s me. Where are you? Your roommate called, she told me you were missing, what happened?” Tears jump to your eyes at the sound of his voice, and you can’t help the sob that escapes your lips. 

“T–They grabbed me, I–I was w–walking back and they came out of nowhere, t–they grabbed me, o–oh god, h–he said they w–were gonna s–sell me, an–and I r–ran, but–” 

You have to stop, your voice is shaking so much you’re not sure your words even make any sense, and your head hurts and your throat hurts and oh god you just wanna go home.

There’s a strange sort of hissing noise that you slowly realize is Pedro shushing you over the phone. “Shh, shh sweetheart, it’s ok, just tell me where you are, we’ll come and find you darling, lo prometo.” His words are confident but his voice is unsteady, and you realize you must be scaring him, but you can’t muster up the words to apologize. 

Suddenly his words hit you, and you feel your lungs seize up. Your breathing picks up, and suddenly your hyperventilating. “I–I don’t know!” You gasp out, your vision swimming as you start to lose consciousness. “I–I don’t know w–where I am. H–Help me.”

The first time you wake up, you don’t even open your eyes. The first thing you’re aware of is that your whole body hurts. Your arms and legs feel weighed down, and your chest feels as though it’s filled with cotton. Your head is throbbing, and your eyelids seem sewn together for all that you’re able to move them. You try to take a deep breath, and you feel... something in your throat blocking you from taking in a lungful of air. 

You hear a beeping from somewhere next to you, speeding up quickly the more you struggle to breathe. You try to move your arms, and panic fills you when you realize you can’t. There’s a sudden, warm weight on your hand, as though someone’s touching you, and that's the last thing you remember. 

The second time you wake up, you’re still unable to open your eyes. You’re still paralyzed, and there’s still something in your throat. But before you can panic, you hear a soft voice somewhere next to you. It takes you a minute to recognize that the voice is singing, and it takes another couple of minutes for you to realize the song is in spanish. 

You’re unable to decipher the words in your drugged state–for that’s what it has to be, you think, there’s no way you’d be this out of it naturally–but the voice is soothing, and you fall asleep once more.

The third time you wake, you’re able to open your eyes. It takes a herculean effort, but you force them open, despite the pain. You look up blearily at the ceiling, and for a minute, that’s all the effort you can muster. 

Once you feel up to it, you try to look around the room. The walls are white, and the sheets of the bed you’re on are white, the floor is white, the door is white, everything except for the figure in the recliner is white. 

Your eyes snap back to the recliner, and it takes you a minute to recognize just who is sleeping there. Pedro has one leg tucked underneath him, his glasses halfway down his nose and a book in his lap as he snores softly. You realize he must have fallen asleep reading, and your heartbeat quickens as you watch him. 

There had been a few moments where you thought you were never going to see him again, when you’d been delirious with pain and fear and likely a mild case of hypothermia. Seeing him sitting here, in the flesh, makes you want to cry.

As tears begin to roll down your cheeks, the sore skin around your eyes flares up in pain, and there’s a sudden increase in the beeping next to you. You can’t do anything but watch as Pedro startles awake at the noise, and his eyes sweep the room in a mild panic before they land on you. 

You watch as his eyes widen, and he drops the book from his lap onto the floor in his haste to get to you. He’s by your side in an instant, hand coming up to gently brush away your tears. You see tears of his own well in his eyes, and you try to move your hand, only to feel a sharp pain as you do so, and a broken whimper tears out of your throat.

Pedro gently covers your hand with his own, careful not to jostle the IV in your hand, his other hand resting on your cheek. “It’s alright, it’s okay, sweetheart, just relax,” he croons, voice quiet and soft. “You’re safe, hermosa, you’re in the hospital.” He must see the questioning look in your eyes, but he shakes his head. “I’ll explain everything later, you need to rest. Please, please rest sweetheart, you need to get better.”

You stare pleadingly at him for a moment before giving in. You’ve never been able to fight him, not when he looks at you like that, and to be honest, you don’t really have the strength to fight him at the moment. As you allow your eyes to drift shut, you see him leaning down, and you feel his lips brush against your forehead, and you hear him say one last thing, his voice breaking a little.

“I don’t know if I can exist in this world without you.”

[obligatorynasty]

Read Part 1 and Part 2.

Silk and Honey, Part 3 (Stripper!Peter AU)

“So, we’re just going to ignore this then?” Rhodey asked, shifting in the lab stool to face Tony and holding up a tabloid with a picture of his friend and the words ‘Tony Stark prowls Gay Strip Club at Night’ in big white lettering.

“Yes,” Tony’s brow furrowed as he silently tinkered with some new invention, soldering two pieces of metal together with careful precision. He did this sometimes, especially after having a rough night. Escaping to the lab when things got too heavy. Too stressful. Too much his fault. Yet, despite his efforts, his mind wouldn’t erase the image of Peter’s face dropping into that confusion, that anger, that fear. It was tormenting him, eating away at his conscience like a virus. “FRIDAY’s already working on erasing it and Pep’s talking it down at the press conference today.”

“O-kay,” Rhodey pressed his lips together in a hard line, discarding the paper in the trash bin by the desk. “Then how about the spider kid? Did you find Peter?”

Tony jumped, burning his hand on the edge of the soldering iron, “Fuck!” He exclaimed, dropping the iron and slamming his fist against the work table. “No!” He let out the heaviest of sighs. “No, Rhodey. I would like to ignore this whole string of questions, alright? Thanks.”

But Rhodey just crossed his arms, shooting his best friend a raised eyebrow and a look that showed how thoroughly done he was with Tony’s bullshit. “What happened, Tony?”

With an eye roll and an exasperated hand through his short locks, Tony spoke, “I fucked up.”

“Are we talking a big Tony Stark fuck up,” Rhodey squinted, spanning his arms outward before clasping his hands together and saying, “Or a little one?”

“Definitely a big one.”

“Alright, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Rhodey gestured for him to continue. “Go on.”

Tony stood from the desk and started pacing back forth on the lab floor. His nerves spilling from his gait like an overfilled cup. “I took advantage of the kid.” He sighed, “I was looking for him, and I found out he works at a strip club, and-”

“Hold on.” Rhodey interrupted, “A strip club? Isn’t he seventeen?”

“Your guess is as good as mine on that one.” Tony shrugged before continuing. “And I saw him – you know, dancing – and I may have, kind of, possibly bought all his time for the night, and-”

“Tony,” Rhodey pressed a finger against his temple. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” Tony gave a weak nod, his solemn expression translating his severity. “And, to make matters worse, I didn’t even tell him that I knew who he was until after.”

Rhodey sighed, dropping his head into his hands, “This is the biggest Tony Stark fuck up to date.”

“You’re telling me.” Tony slumped onto the ground, leaning against the desk by his best friend’s seat. “Got any advice before I just evaporate from this state of existence?”

Rhodey pondered the question for a long moment before locking eyes with his friend, “Maybe War Machine should just publicly arrest you.” He grinned. “Along with everyone working at that strip club.”

Tony scoffed with a smile tugging at his lips, “Okay, that’s the last time I ask you for help.”

“What? It seems like your best option.” He laughed as he joined Tony on the floor. “Look, man,” Rhodey’s voice dropped to a low tone, “If you want my honest opinion, I think you just need to apologize. Explain yourself. Make it known that you recognize what you did wrong. If he doesn’t completely kick you to the curb, make some grand gesture. Flex the billionaire muscle. I don’t know- Just do something for the kid. What does he like? What does he need?”

Tony paused, absorbing his friend’s words and letting his mind race through the possibility of redemption. “You know what? Let’s find out.” He clapped his hands together, “FRIDAY! Pull up Parker’s file, would you?”

“Yes, boss,” FRIDAY’s voice activated the lab’s hologram screen and projected it to the space in front of the two men. “Peter Parker, know aliases: Spider-Man and Silk and Honey.”

Rhodey feigned a shocked expression, “Silk and Honey, huh?”

Tony laughed and bumped his elbow against his friend’s arm, “Shut up.”

FRIDAY continued, “Age: eighteen.”

“Wait a sec, hold on, FRI,” Tony interjected. “What do you mean by that? Last time I asked, he was seventeen.”

“Boss, human beings tend to age over time.” FRIDAY’s unintentional deadpan humor made Rhodey burst into laughter. “During your last inquiry, Peter Parker was seventeen, but as of today, he has turned eighteen.”

“A bit too early on the draw there, huh Tony?” Rhodey wiped a laughter-induced tear from his eye. “The very definition of just barely hitting the mark.”

Tony mirrored Rhodey’s earlier I’m-done-with-your-BS look. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to keep the mood light,” Rhodey admitted, his amusement dwindling into light laughter and a small grin. “So why’s he working at the strip club, FRI?”

“Peter Parker’s place of residence was recently acquired by a new management company. The company intends to demolish the building. So, in an attempt to evict current residents, the rent was increased.” FRIDAY explained. “Analysis suggests that Peter is attempting to meet the raised rent cost.”

Rhodey sighed, tipping his head back against the side of the desk. “He’s doing that, school, and the spider thing? Poor kid.”

Tony agreed, nodding as his brain concocted a plan to apologize. “I think I know what I’ll do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Buy his building.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, “I guess that’s one way to flex the billionaire muscle.”

~

On the following day, Tony enacted his plan. Not only did he purchase the building but he invited the previous tenants back and even reimbursed the excess rent. It was a grand gesture, and judging by the security feed of Peter storming Stark Tower, it definitely managed to grab the kid’s attention.

Tony instructed the front desk to allow Peter up, and he waited. Mentally reciting his apology on loop. Everything from I’m sorry to please don’t hate me. He prepared himself for every possibility. If Peter hated his guts, then he would just accept it. Maybe call Rhodey; reconsider the whole War Machine arrest thing. But, if by some miracle, Peter forgave him – well, he would do everything he could to make up for his mistake.

And suddenly, without so much as a knock, Peter breached the penthouse doors. He was fuming; his anger delivered through sharp eyes and rigid gestures. “You bought my fucking building?!” He screamed, “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Tony parted his lips to speak, to unleash the apology he so meticulously prepared, but the nerves coiling within him made it catch in his throat. He was silent for a moment, staring at Peter with a wary expression. His palms going clammy and his breath going still. Scared to say the wrong thing. Scared to do the wrong thing. Scared.

Peter squinted, his brow furrowing and his jaw dropping in disbelief. “You really have nothing to say!?”

That shoved Tony back into his plan and he hectically gathered himself to speak, “Listen, Peter, I-”

“You know what? No!” Peter shook his head and put his hand up, palm out, signaling for the older to be silent. “You’re going to shut up and you’re going to listen to me!”

And Tony obeyed, because what else was he supposed to do?

“How the fuck did you know my name was Peter? I keep thinking back on it and I can’t quite figure it out.” Peter began pacing. “Did you recognize my face? Have you seen me at my school? Did you target me because of that? Because you knew how young I was? I mean,” He scoffed. “Buying all my time was one thing, but tipping me a hundred and saying all those nice things – was that all just some sick game to you?! Was I just some sick game to you?!”

“No! Peter, I just-”

“I broke the fucking rules for you!” The kid screamed. His fists balling, his knuckles going white, and his eyes filling with tears. “I let you fucking touch me! I was vulnerable with you! And you were just lying the whole time!”

“Peter-”

“Did you have fun? Using me like that?” Peter’s voice began to tremble, as did his lips and his breath, and all at once, his emotion started to pour from his eyes. “Did you have fun making me look stupid?”

And Tony felt it; the weight of his actions crushing his very being. “Kid, I- I’m sorry.” His elaborate apology lost on him now as the moment of grief took control and pulled desperate words from somewhere he hadn’t stored them. “None of this was supposed to happen. I was tracking you, yes, but because I knew you were Spider-Man, and I-”

“Great!” Peter threw his hands up. “Just fucking great.” He sobbed, inhaling sharp and exhaling shallow, trying to hold himself together. “You knew I was Spider-Man too?!”

“Yes,” Tony breathed, his eyes beginning to sting at the sight of the kid’s tears. “I wanted to make you an Avenger. That’s why I was tracking you. I saw you go into the club, and when I went in, I swear – Pete, I swear – I was just going to talk, but then I- I saw you dance, and-”

Peter’s eyes went wide, and for fraction of a second, Tony thought he saw a flash of something that wasn’t sadness beneath all the tears. “And what?”

“And I couldn’t help myself.” Tony locked eyes with Peter. “You’re-” He paused, unsure if what he wanted to say would be right, but stepping onto the proverbial edge to say it anyway. “You’re gorgeous, kid. Absolutely the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I got caught up in a fantasy of you, and it made me do something stupid, something I regret, and I apologize. I won’t blame you for hating me, I just-”

“Wait. You were really just there to recruit me?” Peter sniffled, regaining his composure and using his sleeve to cast away his tears. “As an Avenger? Me?”

As Peter found his calm, like a mirror, so did Tony. “Yes. That was the plan. Nothing else. I knew you were Peter Parker and Spider-Man before I knew you were Silk and Honey.”

Peter broke his gaze away, training his eyes on the floor, “And what about my building? Why’d you do that? Why’d you buy it?”

“A grand gesture.” Tony gave a soft smile, repeating Rhodey’s words from yesterday. “I found out what that company was doing – not just to you, but to everyone in your building – and I put a stop to it. I don’t want you to worry about money anymore. You won’t have to strip anymore, or-”

“I like stripping.” Peter’s interruption was sharp.

Tony flinched, doubling back on his words, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant you can do it because you want to, not because you have to.” He took a deep breath. “Just know that I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so, so sorry.”

Peter was quiet, then, twiddling his thumbs as he absorbed Tony’s apology.

And Tony was on edge because of it. Internally losing his shit. He thought his nerves were bad before when nothing had been said, but now, they were on overdrive. Frantically rushing his body with sorrowful thoughts of Peter’s possible rejection or worse, his hatred. It was uncomfortable to say the least; agonizing to say the most. And only after a moment so silent and so long that Tony was certain he was done for, Peter finally looked up.

“Did you mean it?” The kid’s eyes were searching Tony’s very soul as if to detect any shred of dishonesty. “What you said about me being…um- g-gorgeous and all that?”

“Yes.” Tony was earnest – more earnest than even he thought he was capable of being. “Every word.”

Peter took a deep breath and ran a hand through his brunette curls, “I think we should start over.” He gave a small, fatigued smile like his emotional energy was spent.

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker, also Spider-Man, but you know that already,” He giggled; the same giggle that Tony adored. “And I’m a student, I just turned eighteen yesterday, and my birthday sucked for a lot of reasons,” He grinned and took a few steps closer to Tony, who was positively melting under the boy’s sweet words. “But this guy I thought I hated – you may be familiar with him, his name’s Tony Stark – he bought my apartment building today as a grand gesture, and even though I was confused about it at first, I think I’m starting to see where his heart’s at.” He ended with a short nod and motioned for Tony to follow along.

“Okay, kid,” Tony gave a light scoff but smiled nonetheless. “Hi, I’m Tony Stark, Iron Man, genius, billionaire, playboy – though I don’t claim that one – and philanthropist.” His voice trailed into a whisper as he closed the gap between himself and Peter, cupping the kid’s face in his palms. “And I’ve fallen for Peter Parker.”

Peter’s face exploded in a pink hue, Tony’s candid words catching him off-guard, “M-Mr. Stark!” All at once, his stutters were captured by the older man’s lips, disappearing in the torrid momentum of their spontaneous and utterly electrifying kiss.

The kiss was soft and full of feeling. Like something out of a movie, where sparks would fly and romantic music would play and, somehow, the couple would be floating into the distance as their love culminated in the final scene. It was like watching a natural phenomenon up close; the aurora borealis in the middle of the frigid arctic or the bloom of a desert rose. Like taking your first breath after nearly drowning. Like finding something lost after years and years of search. Sure, it wasn’t their first kiss but something about it held that power all the same.

Peter pulled away first, his awestruck eyes locking with Tony’s enraptured ones. “That’s not fair.” He whispered. “You can’t just kiss me like that.”

Tony wrapped his arms around the kid’s waist, pressing their bodies together. “And why not?”

“Because I think I fell for you too.”

“Fell?” Tony smirked, “As in past tense?”

“Yeah,” Peter leaned into Tony, hiding his embarrassed expression against the older man’s shoulder. “At the club, in the private room, I thought you were so hot. I mean, I kept thinking that after work, I would have to ask you out. And then when we – you know, messed around – I knew I was taking a risk but I couldn’t pass it up. I already had a crush on you by then, and I think that’s why I was so upset to think you had purposefully used me or something.”

“You flatter me, kid,” Tony squeezed, pouring his feelings into the embrace. “I’m so sorry for everything. I should’ve been able to control myself. I should’ve said something. I-”

Peter shook his head, “No, it’s okay. I can tell you didn’t mean to hurt me.” He smiled, his gaze turning seductive. “And if I’m honest, I like that I can make you lose control like that.”

Tony could feel the heat building in his cheeks, but he played into Peter’s hand anyway. “I like it too.” He pressed a kiss beneath the kid’s ear. “In fact, you’re doing it to me right now.”

“Am I?” Peter giggled and leaned back, a teasing tone sprinkled in his voice. “Well, Mr. Stark, we’re just going to have to do something about that, won’t we?”

Tony smiled, allowing himself to indulge in the kid’s beguiling force, but it was momentary, “Wait, Peter, are you sure? You know we don’t have to, right? I don’t want you thinking that all I want is sex.”

“I want it though,” Peter spoke, his hands slowly trailing down Tony’s back, around to his front and up to his shoulders. “While future me appreciates your willingness to go slow, the me right now really wants to be fucked.”

And who the hell was Tony to deny such a request?

---

Sorry to stop it there, but I’m a sucker for a good cliffhanger. There will be one more part after this, so relax my trash pandas, you’ll get your smut. Thanks for reading and supporting! I love you all!

Tag List: @starkerhowlter @readysetstarker @gracieopalxx @another-starker-hoe @strawberryparkers @lxlxsmol @carttorchdeatth @plsstopgivingpetertrauma  @problematic-sofatini @peterparkerismybabyboy @sleepy-and-depressed @silkystark @alltimehella @nymeriasutcliff @illbethethundertoyourlightning

Part 4: Here

[crewhonk]

“let. her. go” bucky

Warnings: Bad guy talks about sexual assault and killing Bucky, death, fluffy eNDING!!!

This was supposed to be an easy mission-- one where you and Bucky would be back home in three hours and where you could be curled up with your best friend while you continued to marathon Star Wars for the third time this month. Bucky had always been fond of space and science so when he found out you happened to know quite a bit about it, he happened to push passed his anxiety and social fears and latch onto you-- imprinting they said. 

You were fine with it- Bucky was the man of your dreams-- polite and crass and thick and funny and kind and gentle. You had always shown him nothing but patience and kindness, and like a baby deer to a rabbit, you’d grown impossibly close. 

Which is why this situation was so damn hard for you both. 

There was a knife pressed to your throat and the blood had begun to bead against the blade. Your irises were surrounded with white, as the fear you were feeling was no longer at a level of concealment. The man who pressed his knife to your throat was someone he remembered from his time as Soldat, and Bucky remembered just how brutal he liked to be with what he liked to call his ‘Pets’. 

“Let. Her. Go.” He snarled, hands raised helplessly in the air. He’d been kicked to the ground by his knees and stripped of his weapons, held in place by the several rifles loaded and aimed at his skull. If they had had time, maybe, they’d torture you both but they knew the longer they held them and stayed int his place, the more chances they would have of the Avengers finding them. 

“Maybe I won’t, huh? Maybe I’ll just keep her for myself. You remember how much fun I had with my pets back in the day. Kill you, and take her-- she seems like someone who likes getting fucked rough, huh? Tossed around and bruised, face wet with pretty little tears and snot while I--”

“Shut up!” He howled, wishing that the solders weren’t all armed and willing to kill him at a moments notice, so that he could wipe his thumbs under your eyes and kiss your throat better. The knife pressed in deeper into your skin, making two long drops coast down your neck. You shook with fear as you watched Bucky shift his weight on his knees anxiously. 

“Maybe, if she has any fight in her, we can take it away by killing you, Handsome. She obviously likes you quite a bit, sacrificing herself for you and all.” He grinned and leaned down, nipping your earlobe and making you shudder with fear. “Blow your brains out all over that wall and let her cry over you for a bit before dragging her away by her hair and leaving you to fuckin’ rot.”

In a sudden burst of action, and an anguished cry, you moved quickly, inverting the baddies elbow and snapping it, making him drop the knife. You caught it and plunged it into his throat, making him gurgle on his own blood before ripping it out and throwing it-- landing it perfectly in its target-- gunman number ones throat.

Bucky had no time to admire your aim and knife work, twisting and taking out gunman number two’s legs and landing a punch with his metal fist to his nose-- too quick a death for what he would have wanted, but it would do. You dashed by him quickly and plunged your knee into gunman number three’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. She plunged the heel of her palm upwards, breaking his nose, and using this distraction, she took the pistol from his holster and shot him point blank. 

In a sudden wave of exhaustion, you sunk to your knees, dropping the pistol and curling in on yourself. 

“YN? Sweetheart.” Bucky rushed, hand soft on your back before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling him to curl into his lap. He shushed you and rocked you, murmuring soft words in your ear as he worked you down and back to him-- the same way you had done for him so many times before. 

“Sugar,” he said sometime later. “You with me? You okay?” He murmured, starting to bring you back to him instead of slowing your heart rate. You whimpered and nodded, helping him help you to your feet. You tried to take a step, but the weakness of your knees made them wobble. Bucky didn’t hesitate to scoop you in his arms and bring your outside. 

It was the cool midnight air that broke you from your anxiety attack. You looked up at Bucky as he carried you down to the valley where the quintet was parked. 

“Buck?” You murmured and he looked down at you, setting you down on a log and settling himself between your thighs. he cradled your face in his hands and looked absolutely frightened when tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Hey, Sugar.” He whispered, offering a weak smile. You blinked and in another surge of movement, wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him back ad straddling his lap. “Woah!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just-- I thought I was going to have to see them kill you and I just thought I would never live with myself if I just let them kill you and--” You cut yourself off before you could say much else-- say the things you wanted to say. 

“I know, baby. I know the feeling.” He nodded, exposing his neck to let you rest your forehead against it and breathe him in-- sensory grounding. 

“I don't want to ever live without you, Buck.” You murmured and he felt his heart break open and explode with a whole herd of butterflies which decided to take refuge in his stomach. 

“You got me, Sweetheart. Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

[riotwritesthings]

Hey! @gayspacesprinkles!!

Congrats on surviving another lap around the sun!

In honor of this event, I will give you the heebie jeebies. I have nothing else to give. And by “the heebie jeebies,” I mean porn. Have some porn.

Remember THIS PICTURE?! Uhhhh idk what happened.

Congrats again on getting old!

-

WinterIron, E, 1.3k, lace panties 😉 

Bucky walks out of the elevator, glancing through the glass walls in search of his boyfriend. He finds Tony bent over a table, soldering iron in hand and grease-stained pants sliding down off his hips to expose black lace underwear. Bucky walks directly into the wall. The only upside is that Tony doesn’t notice and Bucky can get his embarrassed flush under control before he pushes his way through the door.

“You know your ass is hanging out, right?” Bucky says in leu of a greeting, because he seriously can't focus on anything but the hints of skin peaking out between the lace detailing.

“Ah, damnit,” Tony says absently, voice muffled by the pliers between his teeth, one hand shifting down to tug uselessly at his pants. It doesn’t help at all, the second he lets go the jeans are sliding back down, exposing pale skin and dark lace.

Bucky is helpless to do anything but drift closer, reaching out until his fingers slide over the smooth fabric, curling around the line of Tony’s hips. There’s a loud clatter as Tony presumably drops something, but Bucky is way too preoccupied to care, stepping closer until he's pressed right up against Tony. His own pants are already painfully tight, cock swelling quickly against his zipper and nudging against the swell of Tony's ass.

“I’m in the middle of something here,” Tony huffs out, but Bucky can hear the amusement in his voice, he can feel the way Tony is pressing back against him ever so slightly.

“And I’m trying t' get in the middle of somethin',” Bucky huffs back, grinning when Tony completely fails to smother a soft laugh. He breaks off into a gasp as Bucky drags one hand up his spine beneath his shirt, applying pressure between his shoulder blades until Tony has to brace himself with two palms flat on his worktable. He gasps again when Bucky rolls his hips forward, grinding against him. The thin lace does very little as a barrier and Bucky's cock lines up perfectly between the round globe of Tony's ass, pressing between them ever so slightly even through his own jeans.

“Bucky,” Tony groans out, dropping to his elbows and arching his back, shoving himself back to meet every press of Bucky’s hips against him. "Fuck- If you're going to come in here and distract me the least you could do is get the fuck on with it."

“Shh, baby doll,” Bucky hushes him, because how is he supposed to not take his time with a view like this? Tony’s ass fits perfectly in his hands, and Bucky could happily spend all day just pulling and kneading at the thick muscle, digging his thumbs in hard where Tony’s thighs meet the swell of his ass, until Tony’s forehead thumps down against the table and he lets out a breathless sound.

Eventually Tony goes nearly limp beneath him, gives up on anything but laying sprawled out on his worktable and arching back to meet every roll of Bucky's hips. "Please," Tony slurs out, eyes half closed, thin undershirt shoved up to expose the slope of his spine, the pull of muscle every time he shifts. "Please, honey- god, fuck- please, please-"

Bucky lets out a low groan of his own, reluctantly letting go of Tony with one hand so he can fumble at the button of his own pants. He can't help a sigh of relief as he finally frees his cock, aching and flushed an angry red, already leaking over his fingers. He groans again as he presses forward, dragging his cock teasingly over the cleft of Tony's ass before shoving closer, thrusting between his cheeks so deep that the textured fabric of the lace has to be dragging over his hole.

Tony wails, head jerking up as his fingers scrabble at the smooth surface of the table, rocking up onto his toes as Bucky starts up a relentless rhythm. Tony's loud moans echo around the workshop, punched out every time Bucky thrusts against him, and Tony practically shakes under the assault of sudden overstimulation. Bucky is pretty sure he’s seconds away from shaking himself, Tony is so warm against him, and when he presses forward the thin lace catches at the head of his cock, drags down the shaft.

Bucky slowly gentles his movements, until he's barely rocking forward and then back, and Tony drops his head back to the table with a sound that's nearly a sob. "Damnit, would you just- ah, fuck-" Tony's words break off into garbled moans as Bucky grabs two big handfuls of his ass and squeezes.

"I'm appreciatin' the view," Bucky tells him, a little too breathless to really hit the smug tone he's aiming for. Tony lets out an annoyed sigh but presses himself up into Bucky's grip, shaking as Bucky's thumbs slide up the curve of his ass to dip under the line of his underwear.

"Could- fuck, could you do it faster, please," Tony gasps out around panting lungfuls of air, "I'm fucking- god, fuck-" he trails off in a moan as Bucky's thumbs slide inward, dipping into his crack, pulling him open so Bucky's cock can more easily press and slide over his hole. "Baby you are killing me," Tony finally manages to groan, clawing at the table again.

Bucky fully intends to take pity on him, he really does, but first he can't resist pressing his metal thumb a little deeper, higher, hitching the lace up as he goes. When he presses the smooth tip of his thumb to Tony's hole, still a little swollen and loose from this morning, the reaction he gets is nothing short of breathtaking. Tony wails again, spine arching sharply as he shoves himself back, and Bucky's finger slides into him easy as anything.

The air rushes out of Bucky's lungs in a low moan as Tony clenches tightly around his finger, squirming helplessly and making the most gorgeous, broken whimpering noises. "Fuck, damn you look so good like this, so fuckin ' gorgeous," Bucky sighs once he can get his breath back, his voice low and reverent.

"Please," Tony begs again, still pressing back against him, trying to take him in deeper, "please, please baby, I-" Sweat is starting to soak through the fabric of his shirt, gray cotton clinging to his skin, highlighting every muscle as he shifts and writhes and Bucky can hear his blood rushing hot through his veins.

"I got you sweet thing," Bucky promises as he thrusts forward again, tugging at Tony's rim, grinding his thumb in harder, "gonna make you feel so good." Tony is practically sobbing in relief as Bucky finally, slowly slides his flesh hand around Tony's hip, tracing the pattern of the lace as he goes. The front of Tony’s underwear is pulled tight over his cock, the fabric completely soaked through, and it punches another low moan out of Bucky's chest. Tony's cock twitches against his palm, another spurt of precome slicking the way as Bucky starts sliding his hand up and down the length of Tony's cock.

"Please," Tony groans again, eyes falling closed as a shudder works its way through his entire body. He whines pitifully when Bucky refuses to speed up but doesn't offer any further complaints, just writhes beneath him, caught between Bucky's palm over his cock and Bucky's thumb tugging at his rim, his entire body jolting every time Bucky grinds against him. The entire time he whimpers out Bucky's name, and when he comes it's with a soft whine that nearly breaks into a sob at the end, and then he collapses down against the table and goes completely limp.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to come after that, just a couple more thrusts and he’s spilling across Tony’s lower back and the curve of his ass, smearing it into the lace as he continues rolling his hips through the aftershocks."Holy fuck," Bucky sighs, gently pulling out his thumb and grinning as Tony whines again at the loss.

Tony has to clear his throat a couple times before he can speak, and his voice still comes out rough as he says “you just completed ruined my underwear, didn’t you?”

“Get pants that fit,” Bucky says, completely unapologetic, and leans down to press a kiss to the back of Tony’s neck.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Dead Man’s Eyes: Ch. 4

Link to AO3, by @dracusfyre

“Sir, Mr. Barnes is at the door.”

Tony’s fingers tightened on his soldering gun before he forced himself to relax. “Let him in,” he said, trying to remain focused on the circuit board he’d been repairing.

“Hey, what’s with the new security?” Bucky asked as he came in with a sandwich in each hand and a bag of potato chips under his arm. “It’s been extra tight around the lab for over a week now. New project for SHIELD?”

“Maybe I’m working on something for you,” Tony lied with a smile as he set the soldering iron aside and took one of the sandwiches. 

But when Bucky sat down with the other sandwich, he wasn’t smiling. “Are you?”

Tony held his smile with difficulty. “I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Bucky said bluntly. “When you are working on something for one of us, you can’t wait to talk about it, if not with me then with someone else. But lately you’ve been closed off and quiet.Too  quiet. So what’s really going on?”

“Nothing,” Tony insisted, taking a bite of the BLT. 

Bucky took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, visibly trying not to lose his temper. “Ok, well then could you take some time from “nothing” for us to have dinner or something? I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately.” 

Tony looked down at his sandwich, scared of what Bucky would see in his eyes. It had grown so hard to be with Bucky and not analyze everything he was saying and everything he wasn’t, to keep his questions behind his teeth. If it really was Bucky, he could lose Bucky’s trust forever; if it wasn’t, revealing his suspicions would prevent him from ever learning what Hydra was after. Easier to pretend to be busy, even if it made him miss Bucky terribly. “Sure, he said, he said after a pause that was probably a few seconds too long. “Tomorrow night?”

When there was no answer, he glanced up to see Bucky looking at him. Bucky put the sandwich down and put his hands in his lap, like he was bracing himself. “Is it me? Something I did?” When Tony just stared, speechless, Bucky continued, the words spilling from him in a rush, “Look, I know I’ve been...I don’t know, I’ve been feeling really forgetful lately, and sometimes it feels like - like I’m missing something, like there’s a blank spot where a memory should be. Things are coming back faster than they did, you know, last time, so I didn’t want to say anything, I just wanted to pretend that everything was okay but if I’ve fucked up somehow- like a- a birthday or an anniversary or something - please, just tell me, so I can fix it.” This time, when Bucky met his eyes he looked so lost that Tony couldn’t stand it. 

“It’s not you, it’s me, Bucky, I swear,” he said. He came around his work station and sat on Bucky’s lap, cupping his face in his hands. “I’ve been trying to work through some shit and - and it’s spilling, spilling out on you and I’m sorry. Please, just give me more time, okay?” He kissed Bucky’s temple, then his cheekbone, and when Bucky tilted his head up, let himself be dragged into a long, drugging kiss that started making him very aware that he was, in fact, sitting on Bucky’s lap, especially when Bucky’s hand slid up the back of his shirt, hands warm and rough as they stroked his back. He forced himself to gentle the kiss and pulled back to rest his forehead on Bucky’s. Doing anything else would have been the worst sort of lie. 

“Okay,” Bucky said after a moment. “If you need some time, I’ll wait.” He kissed Tony one more time before setting him on his feet.  As he grabbed his sandwich and left, Tony stared at the scarred wood of his work station, trying to swallow back the hot press of tears;  Bucky was being sweet and understanding and patient, but all Tony could think was, of course he would be-if he got mad and picked a fight, he wouldn’t have access to me or the lab anymore.

“Sir, you asked me to notify you if there was an unusual change in James Barnes’ pattern of behavior,” JARVIS said one morning as Tony was savoring his first cup of coffee and reviewing his emails. Tony felt his heart skip a beat then start racing as dread curdled in his stomach. He put his coffee mug down when he realized that his hands were shaking. 

“Go on,” he said, clearing his throat.

A graph of Bucky's cell phone activity flashed onto Tony’s computer screen.  A few days ago, it's activity had declined noticeably; it was still being used, but not nearly as much as it had been before. Tony chewed on his thumb, trying to think about what had happened over the past few days, but the only thing he could think was that Bucky had just realized his phone was being monitored. “JARVIS, do a sweep; are there any unknown cell phone signals active on the compound?” If he wasn't using this phone, he was probably using a different one. Though the Avengers had distanced themselves from SHIELD's intelligence collection activities, between Natasha, Clint, and a couple of others, there were a handful of burner phones on the premises at any given time. JARVIS regularly logged them into its system as it periodically swept the compound for unauthorized video or listening devices and would know if a new one had appeared.

“No, sir,” JARVIS after a moment. Tony sighed and sat back in his chair. It was a long shot anyway; JARVIS wouldn’t pick it up if the battery and sim card had been removed, which was Spycraft 101 according to Natasha. Tony scrubbed his face with his hands and closed out of the screen; he would search their rooms later for a burner phone, though he doubted he would be able to find something that Bucky wanted to remain hidden.  

 “Tony, we need to talk.”

Tony’s insides turned to ice as Bucky sat down on the coffee table in front of him. Tony sat up slowly and set his tablet aside as he stalled for time. “About what?” he said, proud of how level his voice was. He tried to meet Bucky’s eyes but they kept sliding away to look at a spot over his shoulder.

“About why you are spying on me.” Tony tried to think of something to say but he couldn’t force out a denial; he knew he wouldn’t be able to sell it, not when Bucky was watching him so closely. Bucky raised his eyebrows as the silence stretched. “Right. Okay then.” He hung his head for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair. “I was hoping you would deny it and say that I was imagining things, but you can’t, can you? What is it, Tony? What have I done to make me think you can’t trust me?”  Tony wanted to say something but he stayed mute, miserable and scared and guilty and defensive; if he opened his mouth he wasn’t sure what would come out. “Do - do you think I’ve cheated on you? Is that it? Because I swear, that week I was gone I never-”

Tony jerked his head to the side, an instinctive motion of denial that he couldn’t stop in time. Infidelity would be a good cover, but it was too late; Bucky’s searching eyes had seen the motion and knew it for what it was. 

“Then…” Bucky glanced away and in that moment he looked as scared as Tony felt. “If you’re not worried about me personally then it must be professionally. Which means - it means…” Bucky let out an explosive breath and stood, pacing away, apparently unable to put into words. He got to the far wall of the living room and turned on his heel, giving Tony a narrow-eyed look. “Wait, is this - is this what Natasha said to you a few weeks ago?” he said, jabbing his finger at Tony. “That made you so angry?” Tony couldn’t look at him; he wrapped his arms around himself and hunched his shoulders defensively. “I should have known,” Bucky growled, resuming his pacing.  “The idea that I am a double agent is something straight out of her post-Cold War, Red Room playbook. When did she say it happened? During that week I was gone? Does she think Hydra got their hands on me and reprogrammed me as a honeypot?”

“Not reprogrammed,” Tony said quietly. “Never deprogrammed. Not since you were first taken.”

“Never-” Bucky stopped pacing in front of Tony, confused. “You mean like, the words didn’t work when you said them?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you think that? I saved your life! Those Hydra agents were going to kill you!”

“You put a gun in my face and then you left me there!” Tony burst out, surprising himself. “You could have said what you were doing! You could have told me  anything, but you left, and you were gone for a week and I didn’t know if you were alive or dead!”

Bucky took a step back, stunned. “There was no time,” he said. “I told you that. There were more coming, and I had to lead them away from you.”

“Yeah, that is what you told me. But I never heard another person until Steve dug me out of the rubble.” Tony didn’t realize how angry he was until he started talking, but now he was shaking with it. “I said the words, but how was I supposed to know that it worked when I woke up and saw you standing over me like that? How can I know now? If Hydra can tell you to do anything, to be anything, how can I trust you?”

Bucky sat down heavily, like his legs couldn’t support him anymore, and curled around himself like he’d been punched in the stomach. “What would it take, then? What would it take to prove that I’m not working for Hydra?”

“I don’t know,”  Tony said quietly. “I’ve been trying to figure out something but I’ve got nothing, no answers, no ideas.” They sat in silence for a long time, as Bucky ran through all the scenarios that Tony had been struggling with for weeks. How do you build trust when nothing Bucky said or did could be trusted? When you couldn’t even trust yourself to tell truth from a lie? There was no date on the calendar, no finish line, no way to say "if he hasn't done it by now, he never will"; Stane had hidden his agenda for decades before he showed his true face. 

“We start over,” Bucky said finally. He glanced up and met Tony’s gaze, eyes bleak but jaw firm. “The problem is that you don’t know if the trigger words worked when you said them, so we do it again. Push the reset button, as you like to say.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “What? No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s crazy. I mean, everything is crazy, I know. The idea that you are some kind of deep mole for Hydra is…” Tony blew out a breath. “Crazy. Right?”

“Tony, our lives are generally fucking crazy, ok? I know I’m me, but...I’ve shot you, stabbed you, and even when I was me, I had to pretend like I wasn’t. You’ve been betrayed before, so I get it. If it was anyone else but me and you, I would be telling you to do whatever it took to keep yourself safe.” He reached out like he was going to touch Tony but he stopped as if unsure his touch would be welcome. “But I think that would mean being separated from you for who knows how long, and I don’t want to lose you. So I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you, okay? I mean, I remembered you once, right? I know I’ll do it again, I could never forget you for long.” 

Tony tried to imagine sitting Bucky down in a chair and saying the words, watching as Bucky disappeared into the Winter Soldier with no way of knowing when he would come back. The image was so repulsive that he thought he was going to throw up, like it was a poison he could eject from his body. “No fucking way.” 

“Then what? I can’t keep living like this, Tony; I want things to be like they were before. I miss you. I miss  us. ”

The raw ache in Bucky’s voice made Tony’s chest hurt. He studied Bucky's bent head, suddenly feeling calmer. The answer, he realized, is that you have to  decide  to trust. It was a terrifying leap of faith, knowing that you could be hurt again, but the alternative - losing what he and Bucky had made together, losing Bucky himself - was worse. He took Bucky’s hands and brought them up to his face, kissing the palms and pressing his cheek against them, one cold and one warm. “I’m done with this insanity. I let it get way out of hand, okay? I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I should never have let Natasha’s paranoia get to me.” 

“No, Tony, it’s - shhh,” Bucky said helplessly when he felt wetness on his hands. “Come on, stop, if you cry I’m gonna, and I can’t do that cuz I’m a hundred years old and an infamous assassin.” That surprised a wet laugh out of Tony, which made Bucky smile softly. “We’re going to be okay, I promise.” Tony let Bucky pull him in close and he dried his face on Bucky’s shirt, feeling more at peace than he had since this whole mess began. 

                                                           -------

The next day, Tony deleted all the surveillance records and lifted all the security restrictions on Bucky he’d put in place over the last few weeks.  Natasha came in while he was cleaning house, looking over his shoulder with interest.

“James Buchanan Barnes: Unrestricted access,” she read from his computer screen. “Interesting choice of security tactics. 'Suspected traitor? Come on in!'” 

“It’s over, Natasha,” Tony said firmly. “I don’t know how I managed to forget this for so long, but I trust Bucky with my life, my tech, everything. I’m done second-guessing him.”

“Oh?” Natasha raised her eyebrows with interest and jumped up to sit on the table, crossing her legs at the ankles and swinging them. “Sounds like something big happened.”

“He offered to let me wipe his brain so that I could trust him again,” Tony said. Christ that was still hard to say. He shook his head to dispel the image. “I still can’t believe I let it get that far that he would offer to do  that.”

“Unless he was sure you wouldn’t do it.” When Tony looked at her incredulously she said, “You’re a good person, Tony. It’s not that big of a gamble to think that you wouldn’t do something like that.”

Tony stared at her, unblinking, because that thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.” And just like that, the nightmare started over again. Tony leaned against the wall, and when that wasn’t enough, he slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands. “Fuck.”  The room was silent for a moment, then he finally said, “I give up. I don't even fucking know anymore. What would you do?”

“Well, the smart play is to detain him and start counter-programming protocols,” Natasha said, coming over to sit next to him. "Or cut him loose, he can't betray you if you've already cut ties." When Tony shot her a Look she held her hands up.  Don’t shoot the messenger.  “But before you do anything, you’re going to have to convince to Steve or you’ll have a war on your hands,” she pointed out. “Have you mentioned any of this to him?”

“Hell no,” Tony said. “We’re still not on good terms after that fight we had before Bucky came back. I can just imagine what he would say to all of this.”

“True. But you need to do something soon, before something happens to make the decision for you.” When Tony exhaled heavily, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out, Tony. Where’s Bucky now?” 

“In our rooms.  Watching TV, I guess.” Tony let his head fall back against the door, eyes red-rimmed. “I just want all of this to be over.”

“I know, Tony.” She put a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Me too.”

                                         -------

Later on that day, Tony was trying to distract himself by reviewing the blueprints and construction bids on a new Stark Industries facility when JARVIS made a soft alert tone and said, “Sir, there is a visitor at the main entrance.”

“This time of night?” Tony glanced at the clock; it was after 2 am.  With a grimace, he realized he’d been working non-stop for almost fourteen hours. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes they got teenagers that would run up to the gates, ring the buzzer, and then run away, as if they could “ding-dong-dash” the Avengers compound without being caught on ten different security cameras. Tony dismissed the blueprints he was working on and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Pull it up on my screen.” He was still shuffling papers when the image on the screen caught his eye, then he did a double take. “What the fuck?” Tony breathed as he started at his screen. “Zoom in.”

“Hey!” The Natasha on the security cam shouted, voice tinny, waving at the camera with one hand while pressing a bandage against her side with the other. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell backwards, clothes ripped and bloody, lip split and swollen. “I’ve had a hell of a month and I lost my keys, can you let me in?”

[juju-on-that-yeet]

A Rock and a Hard Place

Prompt: Whumptober Day 18, Muffled Scream

Summary: Oliver knows his brothers are cruel to Bingiplier, but he's never found solid proof of it – until now.

Warnings: Bullying, minor violence

Tagging: @peribloke (ask to be tagged!)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

Oliver is not stupid.

He’s an android connected to the internet just like his brothers are, and thus he’s every bit as smart as they are. But they pretend he isn’t, sometimes. Not outwardly, probably not even intentionally, but they do.

Oliver knows they bully Bing. Oliver knows they get physical with them, knows they insult him in ways that cut deep. They hide it, though; they pretend to tolerate Bing when Oliver’s in the room, as if Oliver doesn’t know they’ll go right back to bullying Bing when he leaves. Bing tries to hide it, too, tries to hide where the injuries come from or why he’s crying, but Oliver knows it’s more out of pride and a desire to keep the peace than anything else. And Oliver, for his part, feels cowardly sometimes. He wants to acknowledge this unspoken secret, but what good will it do? He doesn’t have any concrete proof of it, not yet, and it won’t make his brothers stop hating Bing or vice versa. Maybe that’s part of why they hide it so much: For plausible deniability. More than cowardly, it makes Oliver feel plain angry.

The elephant in the room can’t be ignored any more when Oliver hears something one day: A small, muffled yelp, come from Plus’s workroom.

He pauses, listens, hears it again but much quieter this time. His first thought is that Plus might’ve hurt himself, so he gets up from his own workstation to go to him.

But when he gets there, he almost immediately backtracks, staying behind the mostly closed door and peeking through, because it’s not Plus who’s trying not to cry out.

It’s Bing.

Chrome is there, too, pushing Bing against the wall and holding him there as Plus pokes at him with some new tool he’s made – a soldering wand, thinner than an average one. Bing is squirming, in pain, trying to get away – but most of all, Oliver can see he’s humiliated, embarrassed to be stuck here as an unwilling guinea pig. His cheeks are blushing orange with shame and he won’t meet the eyes of Chrome or Plus.

“Come on,” Bing gasps, breath hitching as the wand burns holes into his arm, “Do you have to test this – ow – on me??”

“Yes,” Plus answers, deadpan. “I need to make sure it’ll work well on us, and I’m not risking hurting my brothers with such a new, unpredictable piece of tech.” He grins. “Don’t worry; if I can get the settings how I want them, I can solder the holes I’ve made shut again.”

“Gee, thanks,” Bing mutters, then yelps again at a particularly bad burn. Chrome shakes him in response.

“I keep telling you to be quiet,” Chrome snarls, “Do you want us to get caught? Do you want Oliver to see this?” Bing merely whimpers.

Oliver bristles, no, fumes to hear his name used against his best friend. It’s the shock to his system he needs to throw the door open. All three pairs of eyes snap towards him, and all three people cower slightly at the sight.

“Ollie–” Plus tries.

“Leave him alone.” Oliver’s surprised at how stony his own voice is, and judging by the looks on their faces, so are the others.

“Ollie, it’s not–” Chrome begins.

“Not what?” Oliver snaps. “Not what it looks like? Because I’m pretty sure it is. I’m not a fucking idiot, Chrome.”

Chrome shrinks back, and Bing and Plus’s eyes go wide. Oliver hardly ever swears. Chrome releases Bing like he’s something dangerous, and Bing scurries to Oliver’s side.

“Ollie–”

“Are you okay?” Oliver’s voice is a bit softer now as he takes Bing’s arm, the one with burn marks and soldering holes.

“Y-Yeah,” Bing mumbles, “It’s not…It’s not that bad.”

“Compared to what they’ve done before, you mean?” Oliver asks. Bing looks away.

“…I guess,” he admits, so quiet that even in a room full of androids with super-hearing he’s barely audible.

“Go wait for me at my workstation, I’ll repair you in a bit,” Oliver tells him. He gives Bing’s unhurt arm a gentle squeeze. Bing nods, clearly still unhappy, and leaves.

The room is quiet for a long moment. Chrome is staring at the floor, Plus is only barely meeting Oliver’s eyes, and any gentleness that remained in Oliver’s expression is gone again.

“This isn’t your problem, Oliver,” Chrome mutters, “We don’t like him and he doesn’t like us. That’s just how it is.”

“What if I didn’t like Yandere?” Oliver asks. Chrome’s head snaps up at that, but Oliver continues before he can speak. “What if I beat him up and made fun of him all the time? And what if I tried to hide it from you and thought I could get away with it?”

“Hey–” Plus murmurs.

“And Plus,” Oliver adds, turning to him, “What if I hated Dr. Iplier? What if I bullied him? Would you not be upset? Would you not be angry?”

“It’s not the same!” Plus bursts out.

“No, it’s not, is it?” Oliver snaps, sarcastic, “Because Bing is just the absolute worst and has nothing to offer anybody, huh? Even though–” He cuts himself off with a harsh breath, and takes a moment to compose himself before he continues. “Even though he’s my best friend. Even though he never tells me about what you guys do to him, because he doesn’t want to make things worse or hurt my feelings. Bing’s just the worst, but he’s more considerate to me than either of you.”

“Are you gonna yell at Google, then?” Chrome grumbles, “He’s meaner to Bing than either of us.”

“Maybe I will,” Oliver seethes, “But right now, I’m talking to you guys.” He sighs. “Look, I don’t expect you to be best friends with Bing or hand out with him or anything, but just…can you let him be? Or bully him less?” He breathes in another rough breath, and tears form in his eyes. “Please, for me, can you stop hurting him so much? You’re all important to me, I don’t want this to happen anymore.”

Both Chrome and Plus are by Oliver’s side in an instant, hugging him tight. None of the Googles can stand to see Oliver cry, even now. Oliver hugs them back despite himself.

“We’ll try,” Plus promises.

“We didn’t mean to hurt you,” Chrome murmurs.

“I know,” Oliver whimpers, “Just, please, really do try, okay?”

They promise, and a few minutes later, Oliver has recovered enough to go back to his workstation, where Bing is still sitting.

“Sorry it took me a bit,” Oliver says, a bit sheepish, “Didn’t mean to make you wait so long.”

“No worries,” Bing says, his easy grin back on his face.

It’s almost like nothing happened, like Oliver didn’t find his own brothers causing the injuries he now begins to treat. Fortunately, the holes are clean and smooth, easily patched over to leave the skin as perfect as it was before. But what happened still hangs in the air, and when Oliver is done, he can’t help but speak up.

“Bing,” Oliver asks, “How come you never talked to me about this?” Bing looks down, and Oliver continues, keeping his voice gentle. “I love my brothers, yeah, but I care about you, too.”

Bing stays looking down for a long moment. When he looks up, tears are running down his cheeks.

“I didn’t want you to get mad at them,” Bing whispers, shaky, “I didn’t want you to hate them. I know–” He sobs. “I know how important brothers are. I d-don’t want you to lose yours because of me.”

Oliver stares at Bing, stares at his friend on the edge of a breakdown after so much bullying, after laying himself bare to Oliver, and wonders if this is how Bing felt every time he ever held back or muffled his own cries of pain.

There’s nothing for Oliver to do but hug Bing and rub his back until he stops crying, and hope that things will be better from now on.

[caramell0w]

The Acquisition- Chapter 3

Parings: Business owner!Bucky x Reader (AU)

Summary: You are part of a business merger. Can you make it through with your heart still intact, or will The Winter Solder tear you apart?

Warnings: Language, a bit more angst.

A/N: Things are starting to get good now! Would you want James Barnes? I know I would...I mean....look at that man. *Swoon*

Word Count: 1576

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

If you like my fanfic, check out my books

Sure enough, as soon as he leaves me alone my phone chimes with a text notification from Tristian ending things. The typical ‘it’s not you it’s me’ response. I guess I wasn’t that important to him after all. I walk to the window and look down, the lights of the city twinkling below me. Everything seems so peaceful. I place my hands and my forehead on the window, letting the cold glass cool my heated skin. The tears travel down my cheeks in steady streams and land on my pale pink dress, staining it.

What would it be like to jump? To feel the freedom, if only for a moment. I shake the thoughts from my head and stand up tall again. I turn on heel and one of the guards is standing at the doorway, watching me.I place my hands and my forehead on the window, letting the cold glass cool my heated skin. The tears travel down my cheeks in steady streams and land on my pale pink dress, staining it.

“Great, now I have a babysitter?” I murmur. I watch him smirk and right his expression to a hardened stare again. “What’s your name?” It’s not his fault this is his job, and I don’t need to treat him like shit just because I’m pissed.

“Steve, Ms. Y/L/N,” the blonde replies.

I wipe the tears from my face and fold my arms over my chest before I clear my throat to speak. “Well, Steve, I assume we will be spending a lot of time together?” His small nod indicates I’m correct in my assumption. “Then please call me Y/F/N. How long will you be with me?”

“Until the wedding is finalized and the merger is complete. Then, I’ll return to my original assignment with Mr. Barnes.”

This whole situation is fucked up. I don’t even know when my own wedding will take place. “When is that?”

“A month from now.”

“A month?” A hysteric sob breaks free. “I lose my life in just a month’s time?” I’d give anything to drown my sorrows in a vat of vodka.

“You’ll being Mrs. James Barnes, one of the wealthiest and well known businessmen in New York. I would hardly say you are losing your life.”

“Steve, my dad just sold me to James Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier. That man is gutless when it comes to taking what he wants, and I’m sure I’ll be no exception.”

“He’s a good man. You’ll be well taken care of.”

I sigh. “I just want to go home. I assume I won’t be allowed out of your sight anytime soon?”

“No. There’s a car waiting for us down stairs.” Of course there is. I walk passed him toward the elevator. “I’ll have the movers pack up your apartment tomorrow while you’re at work and you’ll be moving into Mr. Barnes’ penthouse.”

I turn on my heel quick and Steve almost walks into me. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t move in with that man until I’m forced to.”

“Consider this your forcement then. Everything’s already in motion and you’ll be moving in with him.” His blue eyes soften a little and he continues. “Let me add my number into your phone. If you need anything, you can call me.” He holds his hand out, waiting patiently. Reaching into my purse I pull it out and unlock it before placing it in his hand. He types in his information fast and hands it back. “My number and Mr. Barnes’ number’s are both in there.”

The elevator arrives and we both step on to it. My dad steps out of his office and our eyes lock as the doors slide shut, blocking him from my vision. The ride to my apartment is silent. I feel numb. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around what’s happening to me.

When the car stops, Steve gets out and offers assistance in exiting. I take it and slide out hearing the door slam closed behind me. He walks to to my front door and waits patiently for my to unlock it.

“Is he a good man?” I ask, keeping my eyes glued to the lock.

“Yes. He’s rough around the edges, but he is a good and fair man. He fights for what’s his and I’m sure you will be no exception.” I nod my understanding. “And Y/N?” I turn my head to meet his eyes. “Don’t try to run. You won’t get very far and you’ll just upset him. There’s no escaping this merger and you’re the glue that is bringing it together. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

~~

True to his word, Steve was waiting with the car outside my apartment the next morning. I passed him my keys so he could assist the movers with getting all my belongings out. When I inquired about my furniture and such, he assured me everything would be kept safe in storage. I was dropped off outside my office building and I slowly made my way inside.

The office was a flurry of excitement as I walked through the double doors. All eyes fell on me and the volume seemed to mute as I entered. Confused, I walked up to Brooks, the CEO who was watching me with the rest of them.

“What’s going on?”

“A rather large bouquet of roses arrived this morning and are in your office with the man that brought them in.”

I scrunch my face, not understanding. “Why is the delivery man waiting in my office?”

“Just get in there,” he gives me a gentle push in the direction of my office. I can see the oversized floral arrangement sitting in the middle of my desk and I stop short as his figure come into view. James is standing behind my desk looking at the window. His silky chestnut hair is just long enough to touch the collar of his shirt. I wonder what it would feel like under my fingertips. He’s wearing a pair of navy suit pants and a white shirt with a golden design woven throughout.

Just as I’m about to walk away he turns and sees me. Crap! Walking into my office I close the door behind me so no one can over hear our conversation.

“What do you want, Mr. Barnes?”

He closes the gap between us in two long strides. I press my my back against the door, but that doesn’t seem to stop him. He finally stops when we are chest to chest. I can feel his breath fanning over my face as I struggle to keep my breathing normal. He smells so good. A stray strand of hair falls over his forehead and I fight the urge to push it back in place.

“I want to invite you to dinner.”

“No.”

He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “No?”

“No. I don’t want to have dinner with you. I don’t want to move into your house, or be part of your business deal. I never agreed to this. You can’t force any of this on me.”

His amusement at my response was not lost on me. “Doll, there is so much more to it than that.”

“Oh yeah? Please, enlighten me then,” I say motioning for him to continue.

He takes a step back and motions toward my seat. I gladly accept it to put some distance between us.

“Richard refuses to sell unless there is a guarantee that his investments will be protected. That’s where you and I come in.”

“Mr. Barnes—”

“James. Please,” he cuts me off.

I roll my eyes but go with it. “James. I don’t understand how any of that has to do with me. I have nothing to do with Landon Enterprises.”

Without missing a beat he responds. “You’re the only leverage your father has.”

“Well, that sucks for him then.”

He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “You really don’t understand, do you?” I shake my head and he pushes out a harsh breath. “You, doll are heir to a huge conglomerate and unless you accept your responsibility, the company is going to go under. It’s been on George’s radar since we were kids. You changed your name, and tried to run from your right, but it’s still there. When we get married, the two of us are going to be the biggest powerhouse couple this city has ever known. We’ll be unstoppable.”

“Why did he never tell me about this? What about your dad? He’s the owner of the company after all.”

“I don’t know, but I’ve known for a few years and I’ve accepted it. Our wedding gift from him is the company. I’ll be owner in a month.” He pauses and looks at me. “And you will be my wife, even if I have to force you down the aisle. Steve will pick you up at five for dinner and we’ll discuss the terms of this marriage.”

He stands and leaves my office, not giving me a chance to respond. I watch him retreat until he is out of out of view, and my doorway is taken over by curious co-workers.

“What was that about?” Brooks asks, taking a seat.

“Nothing of importance. I don’t want to talk about it.” He starts to speak and I glare at him. He shuts his mouth, shrugs and gets up, closing my door behind him.

I pull the card out from the beautiful flowers and read it.

I fight for what’s mine. You will be no exception.

-J. Barnes

My body trembles and I can’t decide if it’s from fear… or arousal.

Next Chapter

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[promiscuous-jalapeno]

Eudamonia

{SaeyoungxReader} {NSFW} 

Word Count: 1,773

~Commission for @breebrielle <33 thank you so much for commissioning me! 

     Saeyoung had done everything to ensure you were comfortable, to see to it that this moment was special for you both. The hotel room was luxurious, with soft bedding and painted walls as blue as the rolling ocean waves just outside of your balcony window. He opened the doors to them, probably knowing that the fresh breeze and the way it pushed and played at the thin curtains would only help to further ease your nerves. 

     Yes, he had done what he could to make you comfortable. And you were. But that didn’t stop your heart from beating against your chest and your breath from catching in your throat when his gentle face loomed slightly above you, fingers playing at the delicate trim of your bra.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

The tip of his index finger trailed down between your breasts and he unhooked the clasp that lay there, pushing away the cups and exposing you to him and the cool evening air. There was a look in his eyes. A mixture of adoration and curiosity. Not entirely different from the expression he gives when he’s pulled cracked the panel of a new and intricate robotic system, eyes fitting back and forth over crossed wires and soldering. But not quite the same, either. Softer.

With slightly unsure hands he began to explore. Rolled fingertips over your nipples and pinched them lightly. He kneaded your breasts in his large palms and you couldn’t help but blush as you covered your face in embarrassment.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just…”

“Shy?” he chuckled. The lilting noise helped ease you, if only slightly. And you were grateful for it.

“Yeah,” you nodded, peeking between your fingertips to see his handsome, soft smirk.

“Why? They’re really soft and pretty,” he smiled.

You watched as his face descended down onto your chest. His mouth was so warm, it felt exciting and incredible. He took his time placing kisses on the crescent of your neck, your clavicles, tracing along your lines with his tongue before finally moving down to the swell of your breast.

The tip of his tongue flicked at your nipple playfully. Coaxing it up while tenderly brushing and flicking the other with his hand. The sensation spread a warmth through your body, filling you completely. You wanted him to enjoy you as he pleased. Wanted to connect to him in as many ways as you could while he gave you such pleasure. You ran clever fingers through his mess of red hair and he hummed in delight, taking a nipple into his warm wet mouth for a quick, electrifying suckle, before releasing.

“Does it feel good when I do this?” he asked, rolling the now wet and perky bud between his fingertips. His gaze was unwavering, heated, a blush building onto his cheeks. He truly looked in his element as he worked your breasts, studying your expressions when he increased the pressure of his fingers. There was something dangerous and dominating about the way he touched you, encouraging you to open yourself to that side of him. It would be alright, you thought. If it was him…it would always be alright.

“Ahh—yeah, it feels really good,” you admitted.

You could feel your sensitivity increasing as he continued his ministrations. With an almost fervent curiosity, he pushed your breasts together a bit, trailing his wet tongue along the newly made cleavage crease. Then back to kneading them again.

“Hmm, they’re getting a bit red,” he lapped quickly at your right nipple, “are you getting so sensitive already? It’s pretty sexy…only makes me want to tease you a bit more,” he smiled.

You closed your eyes with a moan, feeling the pads of his fingers brush back and forth and shocking your nerves into overdrive. You rubbed your legs together, desperate for some friction where your heat was building the most. But you only felt his mouth on your other breast now. Hums of pleasure vibrating from his lips to your nipple.

“And this?” he asked.

And you felt his teeth teasing you, gentle at first and then a rough bite that sent you jolting against his broad chest, back arching up off of the bed.

“Haahh…S-Saeyoung!”

“Hm, I like it when you say my name like that,” he mused. “I like the way you taste, too.”

He began to run wet trails along the underside of your breasts, back to your nipples before blowing cool air on them, relishing in the way your skin prickled with the sensation. You felt him pull your skin into his mouth roughly. He was marking your breasts for himself, surely. The thought brought a flush to your chest and face as he teased with his teeth in each spot before lapping to soothe the red, irritated skin.

His cock was hard now, there was no doubt. You could feel it rutting up against your side as he left sloppy trails of kisses across your chest and finally down to your ribcage. But all you could think about was having it between your legs…and how delicious it would feel rubbing against your clit. You whined for him, this curious electric sensation winding itself through your core at feeling his soft lips in those places you’ve never been kissed before.

Finally, his fingers found their way between your thighs, bringing the almost overwhelming sensation of a palm rubbing slow circles over your clit, causing a ripple of shaky moans to bubble from your throat. Saeyoung bit roughly at the tender swell of flesh where your breast met your side, obviously turned on by the sound and at a breaking point, himself.

“Hey…I want to kiss you down here, too.” Saeyoung cupped your pussy, drawing another small whine from you.

Your head was floating with the sensation of his hot breath against your skin and the feel of his kisses traveling down your abdomen while he slipped off your panties, tossing them to the floor.

You shut your eyes and bit your lip, all too aware of the intense heat burning at your face. His fingers pushed into the softness of your thighs, prying them open—just slightly more.

“You’re beautiful, Britanie.”

That clever tongue of his lapped at your slit without hesitation and it took all you had to not outright squirm away from his grasp. His mouth, his lips, his tongue, it all felt so damn good. And when he sucked on your clit while pressing a finger inside of you your hands shot down, fingers gripped onto his tresses so tightly you thought you might be on the verge of ripping a few locks free. He didn’t mind. Or at least, didn’t bother to react to the sensation. All of his concentration was on eating your pussy. His face moved back and forth with the rocking and swaying of your hips.

“Aaah!…hahh…there,” you guided him through moans.

For a moment he gave you what you wanted, diving his fingers deep into that spot that had your toes curling while continuing to suck and lap at your juices and folds. When you opened your eyes you could see Saeyoung pumping his own cock eagerly. The sight of his muscles flexing as he jerked himself had you clenching down, thighs constricting his head, ready to orgasm over his fingers.

Saeyoung must have felt it, your orgasm, and his eyes peeked up from between your legs to watch how your torso began to roll with your pants. If only for a moment, he admired the sight.

“Sorry,” he lifted his face up, pulled his fingers from your core, “I…I won’t last much longer when you sound and look like that,” he admitted sheepishly. It was almost jarring how he could go from so seductive to adorable in a matter of seconds.

He pulled your legs up around him, leaned over you and locked his gaze with yours. Slowly, Saeyoung guided the velvety tip of his cock up and down your soaked slit. And when you lifted your hips, eager and driven by that natural urge to feel him inside of you, he began to press himself with a shaky groan.

Inch by inch he filled you, careful not to move too quickly or push too forcefully. You wanted to feel him closer, and your hands searched his broad back before holding him close to you. His skin was slick with sweat, gliding easily against your grip.

“I’m going to start moving, okay?”

“Mmn…okay…go ahead,” you nodded, realizing your voice was little more than a strained whisper against the shell of his ear.

He kissed you several times on your cheek and jawline and neck. Tender kisses and fluttering lips doing their best to distract you from the intensity of being filled and the thrusting of his cock as he reached into your deepest places. Desperately searching for the place that made you feel best.  

There was something so erotic about the way you could feel his abs rolling against your midriff while he fucked you. You allowed your hands to begin to roam around him, feeling his sides and arms and the tensing of his back as he whined, straining against everything he had in order to keep from coming. Until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Without warning, he unclenched his hand from the bedsheet next to you. Brought it down between you and swiftly began to tease once more against your sensitive clit. Fervent and greedy, he stimulated you. Hell-bent on bringing you to orgasm with him.

Immediately a shock rolled through your entire being. The ripple of your tightening and pulsing walls, to your moan as you orgasmed, pulled Saeyoung’s own from himself. You could feel him empty inside of you, the force hitting you with just enough power to have you rolling your hips in delight.

He smiled, seeming a bit reluctant to pull out. And you had to admit, you wanted to stay connected just a little while longer as well. It was a wonderful sensation…being so close to the one you love.

“Not bad for our first time, eh?” he beamed. That cheshire grin that made your heart flutter.

“Not bad at all,” you let your own joy pull at the corners of your mouth to form a sweet smile.

Later, Saeyoung sat propped by his elbows on the bed. He watched Britanie’s frame, heavy with slumber and chest rising and falling in the fragrant salty air, thinking that there could not be a sight more beautiful.