#there better be a fucking resolution between them at the end

[loycos]

my head's a bit clearer, some thoughts about act 3

-my biggest gripe is episode 7- cool idea, love the concept of peaking into a different universe and seeing what our characters couldve been under different circumstances, but a WHOLE episode. when you only had 9 episode in this season, that already feel like theyre moving at a neck's pace. for a universe that ultimately doesn't matter to the main universe where the story takes place. the fact it had timebomb made it feel extremely fan service-y.

-no emotional resolution to a lot of characters. viktor and jayce are the only ones i can think of that felt like they got the screen time and care for an actual emotional closure.

-isha wasn't even mentioned in this act. in general she was already a martyr for jinx's character development but guys can you make it less obvious.

-it started in act 2, hence why i was so jaded on it, but it continues here: just where the fuck the political drama between 2 cities go? the conflict between zaun and piltover took a back seat since episode 4 and never came back. the resolution to it isn't bad per say, but when u got so little focus on it in the finale it just feels rushed.

-i loved the cait and jinx scene. but like, that was the resolution to it??? after act 1 thinking about it disappoints me. im not against a conversation being the climax to a story, but that is, and im not joking, the ONLY conversation these 2 have in the show one on one. in general the jinx\cait\vi arc ends with 1 conversation per duo (well caitvi got one fight and one very steamy sex scene but u won't catch me complaining). and after act 1, idk i think i wanted just a little bit more. im biased though- the jinx\vi\caitlyn dynamic is my favorite part about arcane. the teasers for s2 always had them front and center so i assumed it'll play a bigger part in the story???

-i felt like what the show was at its core, which is the conflict between the sisters and the cities, was completely sidelined this season. in general i can't really tell what the main theme of the show is anymore. but yeah look at the resolution to the jinx and vi story.did it feel like it had the emotional impact u expected? cause i felt like it was underwhelming.

-sevika?? didnt speak since episode 4???? huhh???

-maddie was pointless. why was she there?? i don't understand the point of that character. i dont understand her motives. she ended up not mattering at all to caitvi's story. the only thing i got from her inclusion is "caitlyn fucks" but is it that THAT important??? of a character trait??? to add to caitlyn of all people?? in THIS season??? this belongs in the realm of fanfiction.

-a lot here felt like fanfiction actually. every silco inclusion (except of him in the cell with jinx), the whole "nobody dies au" they threw in the middle, even the caitvi sex scene (IM NOT COMPLAINING THO). the caitvi scene at the end was dialog out of fanfiction, wtf was that.

-why did caitlyn lose her eye? im not like against the idea on a base level but losing an eye is very symbolic, and im not sure what its supposed to represent here. caitlyn is an observant person, its a big character trait for her. so youre basically saying she sees less now? that she's more laser focused? i sure hope not. wasnt her whole arc with giving up of revenge about seeing the "bigger picture"? her sacrifice didn't feel in character, because caitlyn is not really a "fight to the death" type of character like ambessa is. if she made that sacrifice for something like love, or for the betterment of other people, that would be more in line. idk, you couldve made me on board with it but im just very meh on it. also caitlyn only really emotes through her eyes, it sucks that we get even less of it now?? though i guess it doesnt matter at this point.

-what was the point of the enforcer that looked like vander?

-ambessa was so wasted in these last 2 acts its crazy. where's the "you have to be the fox and the wolf" mindset from her? she felt like she was wolfing only with no wit anymore by the 3rd act.

-mel????????????? it was. uhhh. maybe you shouldve saved it for another series, riot. but in this show, waste of time. the fight she had with caitlyn against ambessa was cool tho.

-i sound like im a hater but u have to understand. s1 of arcane was a political drama and a character study show. seeing all this discarded for magic and time travel shenanigans on like 4 different fronts was so jarring it took me out of the show multiple times.

-cant believe im saying that, but i wish they'd try to stick closer to the characters' current state in the source material (the cursed game). someof it felt out of left field and done for shock value, which isn't why we love the story or these characters to begin with.

good stuff:

-caitvi sex lmao ill take it babyyyyy

-jayce and viktor's scenes at the end were powerful.

-as usual, the visuals were phenomenal. the animation is gorgeous. fortiche u made this show what it is and youre still its saving grace.

-thank god they dropped the warwick\vander plot

-i liked the implication of the conclusion to jinx's story, even if it felt a little inconsistent with the character.

-the ending to jinx\vi\caitlyn was poetic and i did love it, even if it was rushed and didn't really hit the emotional highs i wanted it to.

[idkjustsomegames]

Thinking about Basim, Eivor and their story

[llycaons]

when finding posts abt the double I ran into a lot of users who are still on the 'cql is a story at its core about BROTHERS' train and being obnoxious about it and while of course the family drama is important and jc's relationship to wwx is one of the most significant in the show, it's a bit funny to pretend like the show is not equally if not moreso as importantly a romance. its about several things 'at its core', actually wwx has multiple extremely important relationships! like lwj is in literally almost every single episode and wwx's story arc and journey of healing and finding joy and support again heavily involves him, and his happy ending is WITH lwj but sure keep telling yourself that

[inbarfink]

So one of the cool and interesting ways ‘Steven Universe’ used to try and balance being both a series of 11-minutes episodes that each have their own satisfying emotional resolution and being an overarching story with complicated character arcs that take multiple seasons to resolve is the… I’m going to call it the ‘Not Quite Right Lesson’ episodes. Episodes where a character kinda learns a Very Important Lesson… but a more careful and retrospective look at the situation shows that what they learned is not Quite the Right Thing for them. They internalized something in that adventure which just ended up causing more Emotional Troubles for themselves farther down the line.

‘The Test’ is the most classic example. 

As a standalone thing, it’s just a sweet episode about Steven learning to accept that his caretakers are also flawed and confused and figuring this shit up as they’re going along just like he is, and then doing a nice thing for their sake.

But looking back at this episode, it is quite obviously the nadir of Steven appointing himself as the Family Therapist and repressing all of his problems so he could better help the Gems’ with theirs. Like, there have been some early warning signs for this Complex, but this episode is the one that really cemented that idea in his mind and probably the reason it took him like the Entire Rest of the Show Including a Post-Finale Season to really untangle it.

But… also, I’ve been thinking a lot about the episode right after that, ‘Future Vision’. I think it’s also a very important ‘Not Quite Right Lesson Episode’ for the character of Garnet, and to some extent, the Crystal Gems as a whole. In many ways, it is to the CGs' character arcs' what 'the Test' is to Steven's.

So in this episode, Garnet reveals to Steven the fact that she has Future Vision. She hoped that telling Steven a little bit more about herself and being honest with him will lead to a greater understanding and a greater bond between them… but it backfired. It just led Steven to become a total paranoid, terrified wreck stuck in a total existential crisis.

And it seems like the lesson Garnet learned is that… she should’ve never taken that risk at all. That it would’ve been better for everyone if she just kept Steven ignorant of the truth forever.

Extremely reinforced with the ending of the episode, where Garnet chooses to once again hide an uncomfortable truth (that he just came very close to dying again) from Steven, for the sake of his own ‘peace of mind’.

So, like, the Gems were already hiding uncomfortable truths from Steven since day one. “If you could only know what we really are” and all of that. But I think… With the actual truth of Homeworld encroaching on them more and more at this point of the story arc, this would’ve been a great time for the Gems to reconsider their attitude and actually Explain to Steven What the Hell is Going On. 

But instead, I think Garnet saw the events of ‘Future Vision’ as a reinforcement of the idea that there’s just some things Steven is Better Off Not Knowing. Actually being frank with him about Homeworld and the Diamonds and the War right there and then, that would have just overwhelmed Steven with fears and worries and would’ve ended up doing nothing but hurting him. And Garnet can’t accept that possibility, not again.

And so, Garnet, alongside Amethyst and Pearl, keep all these truths from Steven as long as possible. Only revealing bits of information when they have to. For Amethyst it’s about her emotionally-evasive attitude (also, she legit doesn’t know all of that stuff herself). For Pearl it’s about how she learned to romanticize Rose’s own fucked-up obsession with secrets. For Garnet, with her usually very direct attitude and preference for the most straightforward solutions, I think it’s very much the events of ‘Future Vision’ that were still playing in her head every time she had the choice to actually Explain something to Steven and decided not to. 

But that, indeed, was Not Quite the Right Lesson. While being bluntly and directly told by Garnet all about the Many Ways He Could Die caused Steven to go into an anxiety spiral and an existential crisis for an episode - the way the Gems have been consistently secretive and evasive with Steven ended up causing him so much more emotional grief to him in the long run. As all of these secrets ended up revealed to him in the most surprising, dramatic and traumatizing way possible.

And the secretive attitudes ended up driving a wedge between Steven and the Gems. 

Even after they promised to be more honest with him. Because the sight of Steven crying on the roof that day is one that Garnet can easily move away from. Because Garnet’s Not Quite Right Lesson was almost as difficult for her to unlearn as Steven’s own. 

But after the big confrontation at the start of the Zoo Arc, Garnet ended up being the most upfront about the Crystal Gems’ history. Almost overeager to share what she knows about the past.

I mean also, again, Amethyst just has less to tell and Pearl is hiding secrets for reasons beyond her control - but I think it’s also important to consider from the perspective of Garnet’s arc.

Because the fallout of the Pink Diamond Reveal is very much centered around Garnet (or, well, Ruby and Sapphire). That was the Truth that was hidden from her 'for her own good'. And at the end of the day, despite all the grief that unveiling that truth has caused

It has also brought them, all of them, a lot closer.

There's a reason why 'the Truth' is Garnet's Final Missing Piece in the movie. It is as central to her character arc in the series as Lesbian AngstTM grief over lost love is to Pearl.

And still, some remnants of the Trauma of 'Future Vision' remained...

After all, even the very last episode of 'Future' was centered around the Gems once again trying to hide things from Steven (at that case, their turmoil about him leaving) for his own sake

Even though it once again just caused Steven a whole lot of grief.

It's maybe notable that at the end of this episode, Garnet, once again, tells Steven what's waiting for him in his Future...

[ellecdc]

Forbidden love, has to hide it from everyone around them, likes doing the nasty in places they could get caught (quite the thrill) and they end up getting caught

Could this be a prompt for any of the ones you are currently writing or future ? 🫡🙏

mhm, mhm, mhm, loved it - give me 14 of them. [I knew I wanted to do this pairing for it, and finally got around to it!] also, since we're obviously fluff-city and happy-ending central over here, it's low on angst

Remus the Sibling Stealer

poly!moonwater x Potter!sister who need to find better hiding spots [1.2k words]

CW: first part is mature/18+, NSFW, oral (m receiving), professing love, sibling dynamics

You felt vindicated in your efforts when you chanced a look up at the boys above you and were gifted with the most beautiful image. 

It seemed Regulus was only still upright thanks to Remus’ grasp around his middle; scarred hands resting languidly at Regulus’ bare hips thanks to the fact that his trousers were currently situated around his ankles. 

Regulus was wrecked; his head thrown back and resting on Remus’ shoulder and his mouth hanging open in a silent moan as Remus worked another love bite into his neck.

“You’re missing quite the show, Reg; our girl looks gorgeous from up here.” He murmured into Regulus’ shoulder, earning him a pitiful whimper as Regulus’ neck appeared incapable of lifting the weight of his head.

“Come on, pretty boy; look at her.” He encouraged, placing his palm at the back of Regulus’ head and positioning it so that his face was pointed resolutely at you.

The sight was almost too much for you; Remus looking down at you like you looked good enough to devour whole from above Regulus’ shoulder, his hand roving the expanse of Regulus’ waist, and Regulus’ red and teary face looking down at you like you were both his salvation and damnation. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t. I’m- I can’t, I’m gonna-”

You responded simply by taking his cock further into your throat and humming in acknowledgement as you felt him tense.

“Fuck baby, I’m-”

And you swallowed; your throat constricting around him as he fell over the edge, coming with a cry.

You fell back onto your heels as you caught your breath and looked up at the pair; Remus petting Regulus’ hair down from its rather rumpled state as he, too, caught his breath. 

“Merlin, you’re bloody good at that.” Regulus breathed at last, causing Remus to bark a surprised laugh.

“Is that how you say thank you, Black? We’ll have to work on your manners.” Remus taunted as he patted his hip.

“I thought you Sacred 28 children were raised to be gentlemen.” You teased as well.

Regulus grumbled miserably as he bent down to retrieve his pants. “I’d appreciate it if you refrained from speaking about my parents while my dick is out, amour.”

“Did Reggie just say dick!?” You squealed in laughter. “How terribly uncouth.”

“Would you lower your voice.” He hissed at you then; tone harsh but face dutifully lovestruck. “Lest you wish our brothers to hear.”

“Lest.” You snorted as you went to stand; Remus quickly at your side to help you up. 

“We really need to tell your brothers soon, you two.” Remus added solemnly, causing both you and Regulus to groan in unison.

“Listen, if they find out, it’s me they’re going to castrate.”

“And?” Regulus asked as he buttoned his trousers. 

Remus glared at him. 

“But they’re so dramatic, Rem.” You whined as you sat on an overturned crate.

Was the secret passageway between Honeydukes and the castle an ideal place for canoodling with your brother's best friend and your brother’s best friend’s brother?

No.

But when you had brothers like Sirius and James, who had a charmed map of the entire castle that told them exactly where everyone was at any given time (thanks to your horribly stupid boyfriend [boyfriend? Could you call Remus that when the three of you only ever met in private? You’d have to ask him] who helped create said map), options were limited. 

“I don’t like lying to them.” Remus argued then.

“You think we do?” Regulus asked, to which you and Remus answered ‘yes’ quickly. “Yeah I do.” He relented. 

“I really don’t feel good about it guys and…I, I don’t know, I love you guys and I want to be able to love you all of the time, not just some of the time.” Remus admitted softly then.

You and Regulus each seemed completely dumbfounded by both the admission of love and the vulnerability of your [yup, you were definitely going to start calling him your] boyfriend.

“Well how the hells am I supposed to argue with that?” Regulus spat with no ire as he pulled Remus in for a kiss. 

“What do you say, dove?” He asked you as he and Regulus pulled apart. “Do you have an argument for that?” 

Yes.

You had plenty.

First of all, you didn’t want to share this with your brother because he would react in one of two ways: he could either a) be horrified and try to forbid the three of you from seeing one another or [and perhaps more disturbingly] b) be so overjoyed at the idea of love that he becomes a unwelcome quasi-fourth in your relationship.

But Remus loves you. Loves.

And perhaps more importantly, you love Remus, and this was important to Remus.

Son of a bitch, “Fine.” You harrumphed. 

“Yeah?” He asked hopefully around a laugh, Regulus smiling at you as they came to stand above you.

“Yeah.” You breathed out as Remus took both sides of your face in his hands and brought his lips to yours.

“My sweet girl.” He murmured reverently.

You smiled up at him as Regulus pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“So are we really doing this? Are we actually going to tell them?”

“Tell who what?” James’ voice echoed through the passageway; the three of you whipping your heads towards the sound to see James and Sirius coming around a corner. 

And it appeared that, despite your best intentions, none of you were quite willing to actually share the news with your brothers/best friends.

But apparently, you didn’t have to.

Apparently, your well rumpled hair from Regulus’ hands, your swollen lips and smudged mascara, Regulus’ belt hanging loose and his uniform shirt still untucked from his trousers, and Remus’ awkward shift in an attempt to hide his bulge which was still at half mast (though falling quickly now) said it all.

“Wha-” Sirius started, though the question died on his lips as he continued scrutinising the three of you. 

“I…I don’t- I don’t understa- I….” James tried then, also to no avail. 

Peter - the bastard - took that moment to appear around the corner then, lifting his head from fiddling with his wand to see the three of you standing there being stared down by James and Sirius like you were in some off-brand western standoff. 

“Oh? Oh! Oh… are you guys shagging?” He asked ineloquently. 

That seemed to restart your brothers’ brains as they both shouted “my brother!?” and “my sister!?” in unison. 

“Rem, it’s been nice knowing you and your bollocks.” You murmured solemnly. 

“Seconded.” Regulus agreed before the two of you took off in a sprint down the passageway and away from your brothers, boyfriend, and Peter.

“Merlin, Moony; you really know how to pick ‘em…leaving you to the wolves like that.” Peter laughed as he carried on ahead; slapping a hand on Remus’ back as he passed whilst Sirius and James continued standing there with their mouths agape. 

“Does it make it any better to know that I’m absolutely head-over-heels in love with them?” Remus asked cautiously then.

“Minutely.” James gritted out then, earning him an elbow in the gut from Sirius. 

“I expect to be allowed two weeks of moping and muttering.” Sirius bargained.

“One week.” Remus countered.

“Nine days.” James tried then.

"Eight?"

"Eleven." Sirius countered.

"Nine." Remus backtracked.

James and Sirius shared a look before James turned his gaze back to Remus. "Deal."

“Fuckin’ hells.” Sirius griped as he ran a heavy hand down his face. “This was not on my bingo card this year.”

“Sorry mate.” Remus offered then, earning him a glare from his best friend.

“No you’re not, you brother-fucker.”

This was going to be a long nine days.

[lemonwrap]

Imagine: Omegaverse AU where Ghost had his scent gland cut out by Roba.

Ghost barely survived it, and now he doesn’t have a scent of his own. He’s never tried, but it’s a logical assumption that he won’t be able to sustain a mating bond, either. He can usually pass his lack of scent off as just using the scent suppressants military members almost always use on missions, but it’s harder during downtime when there’s not such a need for them.

Ghost is close to Soap, flirting and bantering with him constantly, likes him, but he never outright tells him. He likes Soap’s scent, too, an odd but alluring combination of citrus and a hint of gunpowder—one would think the two scents together would be offputting, but when it’s Soap, it’s not.

Ghost keeps the mask on to hide, and doesn’t lift it even to eat when others are around. It’s kind of a pain sometimes, really, and he’s considered being done with all the bullshit and just taking it off, but then Soap would know. He wants the bond and affection between them to last. It’s fucked up to lie to him, but Soap won’t want him when he finds out Ghost can’t actually bond with him, and Soap is the closest he’s been to someone in years.

Soap, while slightly skeptical of Ghost’s unwillingness to take off the mask, doesn’t entirely connect the dots and just thinks Ghost’s scent suppressants work amazingly.

Until the day Ghost sustains a head injury on a mission, that is. He’s losing blood fast and Soap can’t see a thing with the mask on, and he just barely convinces Ghost to take it off so he can staunch the blood flow better. Soap gets him patched up enough that he won’t bleed out on the way to exfil, but with the danger now past, he notices the deep, unmistakable scar of a botched scent gland removal on Ghost’s neck.

After Ghost is treated in medical, he makes an effort to avoid Soap, simply not wanting to bother with his pity or disgust.

He knows Soap liked him back at one point, but if they had ever gotten that far, they’d never be able to actually bond. Soap deserves a real mate.

Soap catches on by the end of the first day that Ghost is avoiding him, but Ghost is elusive if he wants to be, and Soap doesn’t catch him in the man’s favorite smoking spot on the roof until a week later.

Ghost hears him coming, but doesn’t pull his mask back down. Soap’s seen the scar anyways, so it doesn’t really matter.

“Long time no see, Lt,” Soap says.

Ghost doesn’t reply and takes a drag from his cigarette. He shouldn’t have let himself get so close to Soap, because he knew it’d go to shit once he found out about the scar. People usually date to bond. Ghost can’t do that.

Soap stands next to Ghost.

“Care to share?” Soap asks. Ghost hums and gives the cigarette to Soap, and they silently pass it back and forth until it’s a stub.

“Gonna tell me why you were avoiding me?” Soap asks, blowing out the last puff of smoke. “Kinda rude to vanish on someone like that.”

“Figured you’d know that one,” Ghost replies.

“If it’s about—“

Ghost cuts him off. “It is.”

“So you’ve been flirting with me and didn’t think to mention it? I’ve been wanting to fuck you for the past six fuckin’ months,” Soap says, sounding irritated. “Kiss would’ve been nice, too.”

“I didn’t because I knew you’d act like this,” Ghost says, pointedly ignoring the fact that Soap just admitted that he likes Ghost—or that he did at one point, anyway.

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” Ghost says, “but I think you can find someone that’ll be able to keep a bond.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Soap says resolutely. “I want you anyway.”

Ghost doesn’t scoff, but he sort of wants to. Of course it makes a difference.

“Just drop it, Soap,” Ghost says.

Soap does, for about ten seconds. Then he grabs Ghost by the collar and kisses him hard, smashing their lips together and biting at Ghost’s lips. Ghost kisses back just as hard, savoring how their bodies feel pressed together, hands gripping at each other’s clothes and skin.

This won’t last, but Ghost will take what he can get.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {9}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It’s the end of the season but there’s no such thing as winding down in F1. Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst, crash WC: 3.1k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One

Round Twenty One - Brazil 2022 “Aren’t you going to stop that?” George asked Charles with a nervous laugh as he pointed his glass of wine across the room.

Charles followed the direction and found the man of the hour celebrating his birthday at the Brazilian nightclub. Lando was well on his way to being drunk and since he was already an affectionate man the alcohol only increased the need for physical touch. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, especially not when the dancers had pulled you backstage and convinced you to change into an embellished golden samba costume. 

“No, they look like they are having fun,” Charles chuckled as you hooked the matching feather boa over Lando’s head and pulled him closer as you danced along to the samba. “But I might just join them.”

Your arms draped over Lando’s shoulders as the crowd compacted even closer and your lips brushed his ear as his hands settled on your bare waist. “Happy birthday, baby. Did you make a wish?”

Another pair of hands settled on your hips and you felt the warmth of Charles at your back, his hips finding the same rhythm to the music as you swayed. 

“It probably won’t come true,” Lando said with a sad smile. “But that’s okay, maybe next year.”

Charles quietly asked you what he meant and you told him, both of you feeling guilty again for the situation you had found yourself in. Though the number of people who knew about the three of you was growing, publicly you were only dating Charles. You were about to apologise again when another pair of arms wrapped around all of you as Pierre joined in with a hiccup. 

“My favourite ménage à trois,” he greeted with a loud whisper. “Little bit of advice…you look like you are about to fuck.”

“Okay, but what’s the advice?” you asked as you continued to dance between your boyfriends.

“Uhhh, not here?” he suggested before laughing and waving to your brother. “If looks could kill…”

“Wanna take this party back to the hotel?” Charles asked as he rested his chin on your shoulder while his hands slipped up Lando’s top, but to anyone else it looked like his hands were on your skin. 

You missed the heat of their bodies touching yours but the knowledge of something far better coming soon eased the ache. 

“Don’t forget breakfast tomorrow,” Pierre reminded as he waved goodbye. “I expect details.”

Lando watched with longing as you climbed into a taxi with Charles and you watched his silhouette fade while he waited for the next one. 

“I want to make his wish come true,” you whispered, laying your head on Charles’ shoulder. “I don’t care about the PR fall out, they’ll just have to get over it.”

“I have been thinking about it too, mi amor,” he admitted and you looked up to see the hard line of his jaw tick as resolution set in. 

“Scared?” you asked as you caressed his face, drawing him closer to kiss the dimples that appeared. 

“Not even a little bit.”

You were giddy with excitement when Lando arrived at your room a few minutes after you, and his clothes soon joined the rest on the floor. His kiss had scorched your skin and he nipped at your shoulder after climbing onto the bed where you waited for him.

His pupils ate away the colour of his eyes at the sight of you both laid out ready for him and he bit his bottom lip as he dragged a palm up your thighs. Your core throbbed as you watched his fist close around Charles’ cock and it was his fingers that gave you reprieve as they curled into your cunt. 

“Is this my present?” he asked with a husky tone, referring to the text you sent him in the taxi. 

“You can have us like this everyday,” you teased before he stole your breath when his palm pressed to your clit and he dipped his head to taste the bead of pre-cum on Charles. “You’re our boyfriend.”

“And we want everyone to know it,” Charles finished with a shaky breath at the pretty sight.

“What?” Sobriety flooded back in his eyes that widened and his head snapped back and forth between you and Charles as a smile of pure joy parted his lips. “Really?”

“Yes, you muppet. We love you,” you reached for him and tugged him closer, “now let us show you how much.”

You moaned as your bodies united and he stole the sound with his kiss until he gasped at Charles' touch. You had never seen anything hotter than Lando’s eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy, and you saw the frenzied hunger in Charles’ eyes as he gripped Lando’s hip and ease forward. He filled Lando with a guttural moan and the thrust pushed Lando deeper inside you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Charles praised as he kissed Lando’s shoulder before trailing his lips over his racing pulse and across his jaw. Your cunt clenched as Lando craned his neck to meet his lips and when their tongue fought for dominance you saw stars. 

“No more hiding,” Charles promised. His hand slipped between your legs so he could press his thumb to your clit and your back arched, hips rolling to meet the rhythm he set. You felt Lando’s cock swell and your walls began to flutter as the pleasure mounted. 

Lando collapsed on you with a heaving chest and a heady moan as his cock twitched with aftershocks from his release and you brushed his curls softly as you came down from your own high. “You’re ours.”

landonorris

liked by charles_leclerc, notaverstappen and 284,626 others landonorris: If she gives you her heart don't you break it view all comments

charles_leclerc

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notaverstappen

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“No going back now,” you giggled as you set Do Not Disturb on until morning and joined Lando in using Charles’ chest as a pillow.

“I wouldn’t want to,” he said as he stroked Lando’s curls and kissed his forehead. “Happy birthday, mon cher.”

He rewarded you with a smile that lit up his face and pulled the blankets up as he snuggled in closer with a yawn. “Best one yet.”

You echoed his yawn and soon Charles’ followed too as the late night came to a close. It only felt like a few minutes had passed since you fell asleep but since there was a buzzing sound coming from the nightstand you knew it had to be after 8am.

“It’s yours,” Lando said with a yawn, passing the phone over before burying himself back under the blankets.

You stared at the message and reread it three times before you could process what it said, your stomach dropping as the world fell quiet except for the ringing in your ears. “My contract renewal has been cancelled.”

Round Twenty Two - Abu Dhabi 2022 It was the last race of the season, and possibly your last ever race in Formula One. You had laid low for the last week, letting your PR team work with Lando’s and Charles’ to handle the fallout while you tried to save your career. The only concilation was that they didn’t seem to have the same issue with their teams, rather they had become the poster children for inclusivity in F1.

“You’re leading the fucking Championship, they can’t just rip up your contract,” Max growled as he angrily paced your driver’s room.

“You’re only two points behind me, it's not like they are desperate for the points. Shit, you could still win the Constructor Championship with Latifi on your team,” you sighed as you pushed yourself out of the chair knowing you needed to get ready for the race. 

“I’ll quit then.”

“I’m pretty sure Jos would have me offed if you did that. I’m already such a disappointment.” You rolled your eyes and swiped your helmet and balaclava off the table. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find my way, I always do.”

The engineers were busy having a final strategic meeting when you entered the empty garage, or almost empty. “Give me a fucking break,” you muttered as you saw Jos admiring your car. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to hand it to you, you are a clever girl,” he chuckled. “You have single handedly gridlocked the front two rows. You already had Max wrapped around your little finger, then Charles and now Lando too.” 

You scoffed and continued on your way to the fridge to grab your water. “I’m not some evil mastermind like you, using others to get what you want, abusing whoever when you don’t get your way. So, if that’s all you came to say you can fuck off now, this is still my garage for the next two hours.”

“Congratulations,” he said as he walked towards the pit exit. “You just ruined any chances of another female getting to the same level. I always said women are too messy for this sport, too emotional.”

A loud bang rattled him as a wrench slammed into the wall beside his head and he turned around with a nasty grin. “That’s it, prove me right, daughter.”

“Don’t call me that,” you growled.

“I’m your father, what am I meant to call you?” he taunted, knowing he was waving a red flag at a raging bull.

“You are not my father, you’re just a mistake my mother made.”

He chuckled as he picked up the wrench and placed it on the table before walking out. “You were the mistake, daughter.”

“Where’s my water?” you asked as you hit the button but nothing came through the straw in your helmet.

“The pump doesn’t appear to be working,” Nicholas replied. “Negative on the water, Spitfire.”

“What the fuck? It’s like 45 fucking degrees in here! Did no one check if my water was working?” It was so hot your sweat was beginning to steam the inside of your visor and you shook your head so it ran down in streaks like you were driving in the rain. 

There was no way you could pit for the water to be fixed and still keep the lead, the best you could hope for was a red flag. Unfortunately that flag didn’t come, but on the flip side it was fortunate no one crashed. You managed the best you could, dropping your pace a little so that you weren’t pushing your body so hard, but your mouth was drier than the desert.

“How are the brakes? They feel sticky.”

The headset was quiet for a minute before Nicholas replied, “Data looks fine, they aren’t overheating. Tire degradation is not excessive either.”

You were approaching the penultimate lap but at turn one you nearly lost the rear as you pushed the brake pedal down but it took an extra 2/10th of a second to slow down.

“Check the data again, they’re not fucking working,” you growled as you slowed your pace even more so you weren’t too reliant on the brakes. You couldn’t slow any further as you saw Max in your rearview and Charles right behind him. If Max passed you then it was over, he would be world champion for a second time and your bargaining chip would be lost. Like Jos said, second place was just first loser.

Your wrists ached from fighting the steering wheel and there was a cramp starting in your calf as dehydration set it but you were on the final turn. Max’s rear wing opened and he was closing in quick but you had burned your fuel so you were at the lightest possible weight and managed to keep a tire length ahead as you passed the chequered flag.

“Well done, World Champ,” Nicholas congratulated, sounding like he was on the verge of crying. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“Yeah, you too, Nick,” you said as you swallowed the lump in your throat and pushed the brake to slow down. “Oh shit. No brakes, no brakes.”

You had pushed too fast down the home straight to win and as you slammed your foot down over and over but there was no response in the brakes. You were barrelling straight towards turn one while Max fell back as he slowed for the warm down lap. You tried to take the corner but with worn tires and exhausted muscles there was no hope to maintain control. 

You felt the rear wheels slide out but there was no correcting the oversteer when they hit the gravel and you relinquished control, letting go of the wheel as you grasped your harness and braced for impact. 

Your ears were ringing as you slammed into the barriers and if you weren’t so dehydrated you probably could have climbed out yourself instead of sitting there dazed in the dust. It was Max’s helmet that popped up first over the halo, quickly followed by Charles and then Lando - all reaching you before the marshals.

“Are you hurt, mi amor?” “Baby, you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said tiredly as they unbuckled you. You pointed up to Max and tapped your helmet. “We need to swap, you’ve got my number, Verstappen.”

He laughed and pulled it from his head, resting it on the broken tire beside him. “You know, little girl, you could’ve said ‘fuck you’ to Christian, you didn’t have to total his car.”

“Trust me,” you groaned as you took Charles and Lando’s hands so they could help pull you out of the car, “I didn’t do this on purpose, the whole thing was malfunctioning. No water, no brakes, someone must have made a mistake…”

“What?” Lando asked as you trailed off but you shook your head at the thought that had filtered in.

“Nothing,” you lied. “I just must have hit my head harder than I thought. Think one of you can give me a lift to the podium?”

“You started the race in a Red Bull, might as well finish in one,” Max said as he draped an arm over your shoulder. 

“Go on, love,” Lando said with a smile as you looked back at them. “We’ll be right behind you.”

All the other teams had reached the pits by the time Max rolled in with you sitting side-saddle on his halo, waving to the cheering crowds. It was strange to see the centre space empty when Max parked in front of the number two and Charles pulled into the third place, securing his spot as third in the drivers championship with it. 

You only just managed to find the energy to climb down from the halo and you ignored the Red Bull team going crazy along the edge of the barriers. You were focused on the space in front of the number one marker, the space where your car should have been. You could hardly believe the season was over, how this moment was going to be your legacy when you were gone. Laying down on the parc ferme, you let the heat of the tarmac penetrate your race suit and stared up at the cloudless sky while you absorbed the moment. 

“They want to interview you, mi amor,” Charles said as he knelt beside you, having brought your water bottle and towel over with him. 

“I’m not moving.”

“How are you planning on getting your trophy then?” he teased. 

You poured the bottle of water over your face to wash away the sweat before wiping it dry and grinning. “I’m world champion, they can come to me.”

You did eventually accept Charles’ hand to pull you to your feet and leaned into his side for support as you headed to the red carpet where Max was finishing his interview. 

“So, World Champion, a massive congratulations,” Naomi greeted you with a grin. “I’m glad you’re okay after that incident at the end.”

“Me too, those last few laps were all a bit precarious.”

“Yes, we heard on the team radio you were having difficulties with the brakes. Any idea what caused it?”

“I have a theory, but I’m sure it will be looked into by the team when they retrieve the car from the gravel.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not, it’s not like it needs to be saved. 2023 will bring a new season, new car, new driver.”

 “New driver?” she asked, glancing at the camera and the Red Bull team beyond. “You and Max have multi-year contracts.”

“He does, I, apparently, do not. Not after my relationship status changed anyway.” The crowd fell silent as the news echoed over the speakers. “But what a way to go out, as world champion,” you said with a laugh. 

“I’m sure there will be teams tripping over themselves to have a driver with your capabilities in their car.”

“Well, my calendar is free and they have my number.” You saw Jos in the corner by the barrier, his face red and his fists closed, and you smirked his way. “Maybe I’ll come back and win in a Williams.”

You were swiftly moved on to the driver room before you could taunt anyone else and Max chuckled to himself as he watched the reply of the interview. “You have balls.”

“I can probably blame a concussion.”

“You really should see the medics,” Charles said as he entered the room after finishing his interview and grabbed his Ferrari cap from the table before taking the seat next to you, lacing your hands together. 

“After,” you promised. “I am not missing what is potentially my last time on a podium.”

Tears started to burn your eyes as your anthem played and you swallowed the lump in your throat as it ended and you grabbed the bottle of champagne. Leaping off the podium, you smashed the butt of the bottle on the ground and the crowd screamed at the fountain of wine that sprayed high in the air, cascading over you as you threw your hands up. 

Confetti stuck to you and the sweet scent of champagne filled your senses as you took a seat at the edge of the podium. Below the crowd was still going wild but their noise was muted as your brother took a seat beside you.

“I knew you would cry,” you choked as you stared at your reflection in the trophy before looking at your brother beside you. “Beaten by a girl, huh. Just like old times.”

“I’m not crying because you beat me,” Max sniffled and pulled you into his arms. “I’m crying because I’m proud of you, zusje.”

Click here for chapter one of Part Three: A New World

[pin-k-ink]

maelstrom // miya osamu & miya atsumu (pt. 2)

tw ⇢ polyamory/threesome, nipple play, breeding kink, double penetration, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation/name calling, anal sex, unprotected sex, squirting, grinding, dry humping, shower sex, implied marathon sex, kinda rushed ending

wc ⇢ 8.7k

Osamu's ultimatum seemed to suck all residual heat from the stuffy hallway as his words settled over them with leaden finality. For several heartbeats, an oppressive silence stretched burning hot and taut between the twins.

Atsumu's eyes had blown wide at his brother's uncompromising decree, features slackening briefly before that ever-present veneer of bravado snapped back into place. His lips peeled back in a ferocious sneer as he straightened to his full towering height.

"That's your big idea?" he scoffed, voice dripping derision. "Put it all out there and what...just hope for the best? Let the 'pieces fall' and all that overly poetic bullshit?"

Osamu simply watched Atsumu's scathing tirade with an impassive mask, seeming utterly unbothered by his twin's attempt at biting disdain. The muscle in his clenched jaw ticked ever-so-slightly, the only indication he'd even registered Atsumu's barbs.

When he spoke again, Osamu's timbre emerged hoarse but resolute. "You got a better plan besides sneakin' around and steppin' all over each other? Talk is cheap, 'Tsumu. But we both know keepin' up the mind games ain't sustainable."

That seemed to deflate Atsumu's bravado slightly, the fire dimming behind his piercing gaze as resignation gradually crept in. He worked his jaw wordlessly for a moment in clear agitation before letting out a harsh, blustering sigh.

"Look," the blond began again, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. "We both want her, there's no denyin' it anymore..."

He locked eyes with Osamu in a sudden bout of inexplicable courage, daring his twin to rebuke the undeniable truth laid bare between them at last. But the grey-haired twin simply held his stare, seemingly unbothered by such an inflammatory revelation after all this time.

Atsumu pressed on before gathering doubts could fully leech his momentum. "So why don't we both fuck her? See how she really feels when she’s pushed to her limits."

The brazen suggestion very nearly made Osamu's impressively steely facade crumble, if the way his pupils blew wide was any indication. For a handful of charged seconds, Atsumu could have sworn he glimpsed naked vulnerability warring with want and resignation bleeding through the hairline fractures of Osamu's composure.

But as swiftly as the flicker of unguarded rawness appeared, it was viciously shuttered away once more by the grey-haired twin's impenetrable mask.

"You just hear yerself, 'Tsumu?" Osamu rasped at last, the barest tremor of disbelief underpinning his words. "Puttin' it all out there like that...with her? You can't be serious..."

The blond simply cocked one brow in a cocksure display of nonchalance. "Why not? She deserves to hear the truth straight up for once. Instead of us dancin' around it like cowards."

Atsumu paused to let the weight of his boldness fully sink in, watching as Osamu's throat worked subtly around an audible swallow. "We both go all in, show her the whole damned hand instead of keepin' our cards tucked away...Then we let the chips fall how they may."

Silence fell back around them in the wake of his challenge, the brothers simply staring each other down through the dimness. Osamu's expression was utterly inscrutable beyond the tense ripple of the tendon in his corded neck, an unconscious betrayal of the turbulent emotions roiling beneath his careful facade.

When he finally found his voice, it emerged barely above a gruff rasp. "You can't be serious...sharin' her like that, puttin' her in the crosshairs..."

But despite his dubious protests, there was the faintest undercurrent of interest bleeding through the reticence. As if, deep down, the prospect of calling their longtime bluff for real and letting the chips fall where they may ignited a long-dormant spark of possibility.

Atsumu didn't miss the warring desperation and curiosity swirling behind his twin's usually impassive gaze. He knew Osamu had glimpsed the unwavering certainty blazing behind his own eyes and felt the first fluttering tendrils of doubt creeping in through the cracks.

For once, Atsumu understood the magnitude of the moment, the way their entire dynamic seemed to be pivoting on a precarious axis towards...something. Something cataclysmic and inevitable, if the tangible electricity swirling around them was any indication. There would be no ignoring or tucking away this hairline fracture threatening to shatter them from the inside out.

It was time for them both to nut up and confront the undercurrents raging between them, no matter how tumultuous and life-altering the aftermath might prove to be.

"I've never been more serious in my goddamn life," Atsumu rasped in a tone loaded with finality. "No more games, no more pussyfootin' around it. We put everything on the table and give her the chance to finally deal us in...or fold us out for good."

He let the weight of his ultimatum settle between them with leaden finality, watching in eery silence as Osamu's throat worked convulsively around his next inhale. The brothers stared at one another through the dimly lit hallway, the churning riptide of recent escalations and long-repressed wants swirling dangerously in the ether between them.

Only one of them could take the plunge and decide whether they would keep riding the tide towards oblivion, or finally swim for the surface - no matter how agonizingly distant salvation might appear.

The weighted silence that followed Atsumu's bold ultimatum was utterly suffocating. The brothers simply stared each other down through the dimness, chests subtly rising and falling with measured breaths as the magnitude of what Atsumu proposed hung viscous between them.

Finally, Osamu inhaled a deep, steadying breath through his flared nostrils. His pale eyes had taken on a curiously resolute glint, as if he'd already come to some internal reckoning despite the ceaseless war still raging behind that impassive mask.

"You're serious about this," he stated lowly after another protracted pause. It wasn't a question, but rather an acknowledgment laced with something that bordered on...resignation? Acceptance? In that electrified moment, it was impossible for Atsumu to parse the nuances swirling in his twin's carefully measured tone.

The blond simply cocked one piercing brow, neither confirming nor denying. He didn't need to give voice to what was already an intrinsic truth reverberating between their souls like a struck tuning fork.

Of course he was serious - deliriously, uncompromisingly so when it came to the chances of finally shedding these shackles of want, of confronting this all-consuming fire that had steadily burned away any remaining hesitations over the years.

Osamu held his stare for several more weighted heartbeats, the muscle feathering along his jaw ticking rapidly beneath the surface. Then, finally, the grey-haired twin seemed to wilt infinitesimally, shoulders sagging as the burning intensity of his focus dimmed to a resigned smolder.

"Alright then," he rumbled, more to himself than Atsumu. "Why don't you lay out this genius plan of yours..."

"Simple - you and I take turns putting the full court press on (Y/N). Go all out with our...attention and affection for her, while the other watches how she responds," Atsumu explained, voice dropping to a resonant murmur. "Let her feel the weight of our desires separately so there's no deluding ourselves about where her true preferences ultimately lie."

Osamu's throat bobbed with a tense swallow as he absorbed the bold proposal. Atsumu could practically see the vivid implications playing out behind his twin's widened gaze - the three of them entangled in an intricate push-and-pull of heightened tensions and want.

"You can't be serious..." Osamu rasped after a loaded pause, though there was a undercurrent of intrigued curiosity bleeding through. "Puttin' her through that kinda ringer just to scratch our own itches? It's twisted, even for you."

"Is it really any more twisted than this holding pattern we've been stuck in?" Atsumu countered, taking a calculated step closer until their shared breaths intermingled. "At least this way there are no more mind games or delusions. We finally get definitive answers about where she wants this to go...one way or another."

The weighted silence that fell between them was utterly charged, loaded with the unspoken implications of Atsumu's daring proposition. Osamu's jaw worked subtly as he studied his twin through narrowed lids, clearly waging an internal war with himself.

"And if she don't want either of us that way when the dust settles?" he murmured at last. "What then?"

Atsumu held Osamu's penetrating stare unflinchingly. "Then we walk away, lick our wounds like big boys, and move on with the scraps of our friendship intact."

Another laden pause stretched between the brothers as Osamu absorbed the litany of potential consequences awaiting them. Atsumu could see the turmoil and temptation warring behind those stormy gunmetal irises as raw, undisguised want steadily won out over reservation.

Finally, Osamu inhaled a fortifying breath and gave a slow, weighty nod of resignation.

"Alright...lay out the game plan then," he growled, the gravel edge of his tone making it clear this would be a reckoning of cataclysmic proportions, no matter the outcome. "If we're gonna air all this out properly, no more half-measures."

In the days following their heated confrontation over how to finally address the swirling tensions, you noticed a distinct shift in Atsumu and Osamu's demeanors whenever you were around. It was subtle at first - the lingering graze of calloused fingertips trailing over exposed skin as one passed you a glass, or the heated weight of a stare seeming to undress you from across the room.

Little by little, the charged atmosphere steadily amped up each time the three of you occupied the same space. Casual touches that should have been innocent instead carried an unmistakable frisson of suggestion and simmering promise. Weighted looks exchanged over the subtlest of movements that raised the fine hairs along your nape with visceral awareness.

It was as if some unspoken gauntlet had been thrown down between the twins - a sensual game of escalating provocations to see who could stoke your arousal into outright delirium first while the other watched on with rapt intensity.

The first overt move came from Atsumu during a lazy afternoon you'd spent stretched out on the sofa, utterly engrossed in one of your favorite novels. You had been so absorbed in the story, muscles pleasantly lax and unguarded, that you failed to notice the blond's approach until he was looming over you.

"Well now, don't you look pretty as a picture sprawled out like that," he purred in that honeyed drawl that never failed to raise goosebumps.

You startled slightly at the sound of his voice, blinking up at where Atsumu stood haloed by the window light in a way that seemed to set his tawny irises blazing like burnished amber. His gaze slowly trailed from your messy upswept hair down to where your thin cotton top had ridden up enough to expose a tempting strip of flushed midriff.

Feeling heat prickle across your cheeks from his unabashed perusal, you shifted self-consciously and made to sit upright. But Atsumu's palm landed on your shoulder in a stilling gesture as he lowered himself to occupy the sliver of unoccupied couch space beside your hip.

"Don't get up on my account, sweetheart," he murmured, voice dropping into that sinfully deep register you'd never consciously paid much mind to before. "I'm rather enjoyin' the view from here."

He punctuated the suggestive words by letting his free hand ghost down the length of your straightened legs, mapping the supple curves with a heated sort of reverence. You felt your pulse kick up several gears as Atsumu's calloused fingertips traced idle, tingling patterns over your calf working gradually higher and higher up the seam of your inner thighs.

A breathless whimper very nearly escaped as the blond's ministrations inched nearer to unexplored territory. But just before his questing touch could stray too far, a subtle cough from the hallway shattered the heated trance.

Both you and Atsumu whipped your heads towards the sound to find Osamu leaning against the door frame, expression utterly inscrutable as he watched your intimate tangle unfold. You felt a full-body shiver ricochet through you as those simmering gunmetal irises raked over every inch of your and Atsumu's twisted forms from across the room.

For several suspended heartbeats, nobody spoke or even dared move a muscle as the weighted tension rapidly crowded out any remaining oxygen. Atsumu held your gaze boldly, lips ticking up in that same provocative half-smirk while his fingertips continued their scorching caresses mere inches from your core.

Then, wordlessly, Osamu pivoted on his heel and retreated back down the hallway without acknowledgment, leaving that same electrically charged atmosphere swirling in the vacuum of his absence.

Atsumu's eyes burned with banked embers as he refocused his attention back on you, feathering one final searing path down your instep before withdrawing his touch altogether. Still, you found yourself frozen in place on the sofa, utterly transfixed by the oblique game of smoldering provocation that had been unleashed around you.

"You just hold that thought for me, (Y/N)..." the blond rasped in a tone thick enough to lap over your sensitized skin. "That was just the opening salvo, darlin'. Best get ready for whatever encore I have planned next."

With that heated promise seeming to scorch your very marrow, Atsumu rose fluidly and stalked off without another glance - leaving you alone to try and process whatever delirious spiral was unraveling.

The next few days seemed to pass by in a heated daze after Atsumu's bold seduction on the sofa. You found yourself hyperaware of every little gesture and look exchanged between the three of you - searching for any hint of further escalation in their provocative game.

The twins, for their part, appeared to relish drawing out the simmering tension to an exquisite degree. Casual touches would linger just a beat too long, searing your skin with the undisguised promise of something more illicit lurking beneath the surface. Weighted looks were exchanged over the subtlest of movements, drinking in your reactions with rapt intensity.

It was as if they were meticulously priming you, turning up the lowburn of arousal steadily until you were practically vibrating with maddening anticipation of what salacious delights awaited. Simply occupying the same space as Atsumu or Osamu had your nerve endings thrumming with visceral awareness of their virile presence surrounding you.

The breaking point came several nights later as you relaxed in the dimly lit living room with a glass of wine, trying in vain to lose yourself in a book. Your mind kept wandering, utterly unable to focus beyond replaying the memory of Atsumu's heated stare in detail. You could practically still feel the ghosting path of his calluses against your sensitive inner thighs.

You shifted restlessly on the plush sofa, thighs subtly pressing together as a spiral of molten arousal unfurled low in your belly. Attempting to shake off the insistent throb, you reached for your wineglass only to nearly drop it in surprise.

Osamu stood haloed in the entryway with his broad shoulders blocking out most of the hall light. You blinked owlishly, struggling to rein in your rapidly scattering thoughts as the grey-haired twin silently appraised you with That Look - the same hooded, weighted stare that made you feel utterly bare despite being fully clothed.

"O-Osamu," you stammered out on a breathless exhale. "I didn't hear you come in."

Rather than respond right away, the twin simply crossed the room in a few prowling strides to claim the unoccupied armchair positioned perpendicular to the sofa. You watched with rapt fascination as the corded muscles in his shoulders and biceps flexed and rolled beneath the snug cotton tee he wore. Osamu offered no explanation, no greeting beyond admiring the long, lean lines of your body from beneath hooded lids.

Finally, once settled into the chair directly across from you, he spoke in that same deliberate drawl that always sounded like liquid gravel over steel.

"No need to get up on my account, (Y/N)," he rumbled, pupils blown wide enough to nearly eclipse the gunmetal irises entirely. "Just...make yerself comfy there."

You swallowed hard as Osamu's penetrating stare dragged over every dip and swell of your figure boldly. There was no mistaking the undercurrent of heated promise laced through his words, nor the visceral way your body instantly jolted to life beneath that smoldering perusal.

A loaded silence fell over the dimly lit room like a thick veil, seeming to trap the feverish atmosphere swirling between your forms. You found yourself incapable of looking away from Osamu's piercing gaze even as your pulse kicked up into a thunderous cadence against your ribs.

With exaggerated, almost predatory grace, the twin shifted one booted ankle over his opposite knee - a subtle adjustment that somehow made the virile bulk of his densely corded thighs flex and roll mesmerically. Osamu didn't break eye contact as he reached for a small bowl on the side table beside him. Retrieving one of the grapes nestled within, he brought the plump fruit to his lush lips and slowly, deliberately, slid the rounded tip between parting teeth.

A punched-out whimper very nearly escaped as you watched the muscles in his chiseled jaw work to envelop and suck the grape into the cavern of his mouth in one sinfully sensual motion. Osamu's eyes hooded to mere slits as low groan of muffled appreciation rumbled in his broad chest.

"Mmm...so ripe. So fuckin' sweet," he husked before slowly drawing the stem and remnants from between kiss-swollen lips.

You were utterly paralyzed, every centimeter of your sensitized skin seeming to prickle with liquid heat. The tip of your tongue instinctively flicked over your lips as you stared through the dimness, utterly transfixed by the low purr of Osamu's pleasured rumbles and the hypnotic dance of his throat working around each indulgent swallow.

"Y'know, (Y/N)..." Osamu began again in that smoke-roughened rasp you'd never paid too much mind to until this exact rapturous moment. "I ain't had a real, soul-satisfyin' taste in weeks."

He paused to tilt his head slightly, hooded eyes roaming over your body like a physical caress that left molten heat pooling low in your abdomen.

"Care to...indulge me?"

The blatant invitation hung ripe and heavy between you, coiling that slow smolder into an outright inferno in your core. You found yourself utterly at his mercy, unable to look away as Osamu plucked another plump grape and brought it towards those lush, glistening lips in a tantalizing caress.

The weighted silence that fell felt utterly charged, thick enough to trap the feverish atmosphere swirling between your forms in a heated vortex. You watched, utterly transfixed and paralyzed, as Osamu brought the plump grape towards his parted lips in a torturously languorous glide.

His gunmetal eyes remained locked unflinchingly on yours as the very tip of his tongue peeked out to lave a teasing stripe over the taut, glistening skin. A harsh exhale punched from your lungs at the erotically charged display, breath already coming in shallow pants as arousal thrummed white-hot beneath your skin.

"So ripe..." Osamu husked in approval, the deep rasp seeming to reverberate straight through your center. "But I think it's gonna need a lil'...extra flavour to really satisfy this cravin'."

Without breaking your heated stare, he guided the succulent fruit over his bottom lip, leaving a dewy trail of moisture in its wake that made your mouth water uncontrollably. Then, with clear deliberation, Osamu slid the very tip between his parted teeth and hollowed his cheeks around the smallest suckle.

Your fingers clenched spasmodically into the soft upholstery as a rapturous shudder lanced through your core. Every nerve ending felt electrified, as if routing all overstimulated signals directly between your thighs where that telltale insistent throb was mounting toward a fever pitch.

Osamu made an absolutely obscene sound of dark approval around his teasing mouthful - a resonant, filthy purr that punched out your next breath in a broken whimper. Mercilessly, he continued worrying the delicate skin with lips and tongue, savoring every indulgent lap and pull with exaggerated bliss until rivulets of juice trailed over his chiseled jaw.

"Mmm...that's more like it," he growled once the shriveled remains fell from his swollen lips. "But somethin' still ain't quite hittin' the spot yet."

The heavy-lidded look he slanted your way then very nearly made you combust on the spot. Equal parts banked challenge and dark invitation seemed to smolder behind those dilated iron-rings boring into your trembling form. As if silently demanding to see how far you'd allow yourself to be tempted...how thoroughly you'd bend to Osamu's will if he proceeded with this sublimely filthy temptation.

"Though maybe you could help a fella out with that, darlin'..."

His voice seemed to caress every single word - an unmistakable undercurrent of suggestion laced through each thrumming syllable. As if already envisioning you on your knees before him, plush lips stretched wide to accommodate something far more satisfying than mere fruit.

You didn't realize you'd whimpered aloud until Osamu's smirk deepened fractionally, teeth catching his lower lip in a display of pure sin. The way his throat bobbed around a heated swallow somehow only made the demonstration even more erotically charged.

"That's what I thought," he rumbled, sounding utterly wrecked with want despite the veneer of outward control. "Now why don't you come on over here and give this mouth of mine somethin' real to savor..."

The unmistakable invitation hung between you, suspended in that electric ether of roiling tension and smoldering desire that had grown too potent to ignore any longer. Osamu looked for all the world like a panther that had finally roused itself to wakefulness in order to enjoy an overdue, hard-won hunt.

And in that breathless moment, you were achingly aware that you represented the only prey desired - one that was no longer keen to evade the inevitable collision much longer. Not when every sinuous line of the predator's powerful form practically vibrated with the promise of rapturous surrender unlike anything you'd ever crave more.

With that intoxicating revelation, you pushed upright from the sofa, legs feeling oddly unsteady beneath your weight. Osamu watched your every move through heavily-hooded eyes, gaze never wavering as you drew nearer to the edge of the coffee table between you.

When you finally sank to your knees atop the smooth wood surface, his breath audibly stuttered at the sight of you spread out before him. You felt a surge of dizzying power at the reaction, at the knowledge that you had the ability to unravel him even when he seemed poised to do the same.

"That's it," Osamu breathed, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip with an enticing glint. "Closer now. Right here..."

You let yourself be guided by the warm, firm grip of his hands, allowing Osamu to position you until your legs were splayed to straddle his powerful thighs. The position left the apex of your thighs hovering mere inches above his own, a tantalizing distance that sent sparks of heat crackling up your spine.

"Now...open yer pretty little mouth for me, (Y/N)..."

He punctuated the command by bringing another glistening grape to his lips, eyes darkening further with unbridled lust. The sight of his lush mouth parting around the succulent flesh was almost enough to make you keen with the sheer visceral impact.

Instead, you followed his command, mouth falling open in a silent plea. Osamu hummed his approval, leaning forward until your parted lips were mere centimeters apart. His free hand reached up to gently cradle the side of your face, thumb tracing along the delicate curve of your cheekbone while he watched your reaction raptly.

Then, finally, Osamu tilted his head to guide the grape into the cavern of his waiting mouth, letting the taut skin glide over his lips and the slick, inviting surface of his tongue. He held the bitten morsel between his teeth, the low groan rumbling from his chest vibrating all the way down to your core.

Your own moan caught in your throat as his thumb came to trace a burning path along the seam of your lips, lingering at the center. Then, in an agonizingly slow caress, Osamu leaned in and slid the bitten half of the grape past your waiting mouth.

You were helpless to resist as his tongue chased the delectable offering, curling around your own with a filthy swirl. The sweet, tangy flavor exploded across your senses, making your eyes roll back into your skull. Osamu's tongue continued its sinful dance, sweeping through every crevice in a decadent tease.

Your lips clung together as he slowly withdrew, both of you gasping raggedly. The hand cupping your face slid back to thread into the hair at your nape, holding you steady as Osamu dove back in for another greedy taste. This time, the hand not cradling your face reached up to grip the plump flesh of a breast, kneading the mound with deliberate, torturous rolls.

"Fuck..." Osamu growled against your mouth, tongue dipping out to lick a scorching path along the seam of your lips. "You taste so fuckin' good, baby. And I can't stop cravin' more..."

Your back arched instinctively as his touch slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, calluses catching on the taut peak of your nipple. Osamu groaned as he tweaked and rolled the pebbled flesh, seeming to relish every gasp and whine that tore from your lips.

"I could spend all fuckin' night just drinkin' you in," he growled against the side of your neck, teeth grazing over the tender pulse point. "Tasting every goddamn inch of you, feelin' those pretty moans and whimpers on my tongue..."

You cried out as his lips fastened over a sensitive patch of skin, sucking and licking with devastating purpose. He continued to play with the pebbled flesh of your nipples through the fabric, alternating between pinching and rolling with just the right amount of delicious pressure.

"God, 'Samu...please!" you keened, head thrown back in shameless abandon as your hips instinctively canted towards his. "Need more..."

You felt more than heard the low, filthy chuckle reverberate against your sternum. Osamu's free hand skated down the line of your stomach, teasing the band of your shorts.

"Yer killin' me, baby..." he rasped against the side of your throat, hips bucking up in a filthy grind. "I wanna give you everythin' yer beggin' for. Make you come so many times you'll forget what fuckin' day it is..."

He punctuated the words with a sharp nip, making you jolt and keen at the exquisite sensations coursing through your body.

"But we can’t. Not yet," Osamu breathed, the gravel of his voice edged with a pained undertone. "We need to keep waitin'."

The words sent an icy splash over your skin, cooling the firestorm of arousal into a confused simmer. You blinked your eyes open, staring down at the grey-haired twin in utter befuddlement.

"Wh-what? Why?" you blurted, the question sounding embarrassingly like a whine even to your own ears.

"Because...not yet," Osamu repeated, leaning up to brush his lips over yours in a chaste caress. "Trust me, baby. Just...trust us."

And before you could protest, the twin was gently extricating himself from your entangled forms, leaving you cold and bereft. Your body still pulsed and thrummed with unsatisfied need, and it was all you could do not to drag Osamu right back to the couch.

He simply pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and brushed a gentle caress down the line of your arm.

"Go on now, get some sleep. I'll see you in the mornin'," Osamu murmured. "Trust me, it'll be worth the wait."

In the aftermath of Osamu's provocative display, you found it increasingly difficult to meet either twin's gaze without a full-body shiver ricocheting through you. The heated memories and visuals they had brazenly etched into your psyche seemed permanently seared on an endless loop.

You tried in vain to go about your normal routines and regain some sense of equilibrium amidst the unwinding spiral you'd found yourself caught up in. But simple, innocuous moments were now weighed down by lingering stares filled with thinly veiled promise. Every casual touch or shared proximity seemed to thrum with a heightened undercurrent of tension building towards...something.

It was only a matter of time until that precarious simmer finally reached its cataclysmic boiling point.

That moment came several nights later as you relaxed in the bathroom's steaming heat, luxuriating in the deliciously hot spray pounding against your tired muscles. Rivulets of water streamed over your skin, washing away the day's lingering stress in soothing rivulets down your body. You tilted your head back with a blissful sigh, allowing the humid caress to lull you into a light, waking trance.

Which was likely why you didn't immediately process the plush bathroom door creaking open behind you. Or the dual masculine presences that materialized within that swirling, vapor-hazed sanctuary a heartbeat later.

"Well now...isn't this just a delightful little surprise," Atsumu's honeyed drawl seemed to reverberate straight into your very marrow. "Here I was thinkin' we'd have to chase ya down to join in the fun."

Your eyes flew open with a full-body jolt, heart rate instantly tripling as the heated realization crashed over you in waves. Both Atsumu and Osamu stood mere feet away, drinking in the sight of your naked, glistening form with raptor-like intensity. Instinctively, you hunched in on yourself in a feeble attempt at covering your modesty - an action that only earned you twin rumbles of dark approval.

"Don'tcha dare go hidin' that gorgeous body from us now, sweetheart" the blond purred, eyes blazing with undisguised hunger. "We've been awfully patient waitin' on you to come around to playin' properly."

You felt a shiver trace your spine at the raw heat dripping from his words, the promise of sinful delights hanging thick in the humid air. As if sensing your body's visceral reaction, Osamu took a calculated step closer until his silhouette was framed in the shower's steamy glass before he slowly pushed it aside.

"That's it, let go and just feel it darlin'," he rasped in that smoke-roughened baritone that seemed to vibrate straight through your nerve endings. "You know you been wantin' this just as bad as we have."

Blood roared in your ears, breath coming in shallow pants as your senses were consumed by the virile, overwhelming presence of them both closing in like twin apex predators. Despite the embarrassed flush heating your cheeks, you found yourself utterly frozen - utterly powerless to resist the pull of their gravity wells as they steadily drew nearer.

"Don't we look pretty surrounded by all this thick, hot steam..." Atsumu's voice was practically a physical caress ghosting over your overheated skin as he crowded against your other side.

Without warning, two large palms whipped up to splay against the edge of the tub - one olive-toned and the other paler. Atsumu and Osamu leaned in until you could make out the blown depth of their hunger-dark gazes piercing through the condensation. The weight of their menacing proximity sent shockwaves of electric awareness thrumming straight to your core.

"It's got nothin' on how goddamn radiant you look flush and dripping wet like this though," Osamu half-growled in a register so deep it raised goosebumps along your arms. "Makes a fella wonder what those pretty lips would feel like stretched wide 'round--"

"Easy there, 'Samu..." Atsumu cut him off with a rumbling chuckle that somehow sounded even filthier than his twin's lewd musing. "No need to go scarin' her off before we even get started, now is there?"

Dazed and utterly drunk on their sinful words and the blistering heat of their stares raking over every bared inch, you could only whimper. The steam and humidity rapidly became a sweltering cocoon around your over-sensitized form until you felt light-headed with want. Desperate, shuddering inhales flooded your senses with nothing but the scorching, intoxicating amalgam of their virile musks surrounding you from all sides.

"That's our girl..." Atsumu crooned in a molten rasp. "Gonna make this so good for ya, darlin'...better'n you could ever dream of..."

Your harsh pants were the only sounds in the swirling steam for several charged moments. Then...

"Last chance to tap out before there's no turnin' back from this, sweet thing," Osamu rasped against the fevered hollow below your ear, one large palm drifting south to splay possessively low on your abdomen.

Their piercing stares seemed to bore straight through your wavering restraint in that eternal heartbeat's suspension before the storm finally hit. You could practically taste the roiling tension, the unspoken challenge thrumming between their equally corded frames.

Both of them were coiled and ready to strike - teetering on that razor-thin edge of control whose final threads threatened to burn away entirely at the slightest provocation. Every molten nerve-ending screamed in sheer desperation for you to simply give yourself over to their merciless onslaught and surrender to rapture.

The decision seemed to stretch on in protracted torment, the universe itself holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Finally, with a ragged sob of undoing, you allowed yourself to cant back into Osamu's unforgiving heat while reaching out to fist your other hand in Atsumu's shirt, pulling them both impossibly closer.

The harsh groan punched from the blond's lips as your bodies crushed together in a tangle of feverish limbs was pure, wrecked sin. Osamu's teeth sank into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, growling his own unrestrained approval at your blatant capitulation as you arched against them.

"That's our good girl..." Atsumu panted against your swollen mouth, hands roaming in a heated frenzy over every slick, trembling inch of newly bared skin. "Gonna take such sweet care of you, darlin'. Make sure every sinful dream comes true..."

Osamu's chest rumbled against your back in a resonant purr of agreement, the delicious friction of his hardening ridge grinding against you sending white-hot lances of liquid fire licking straight to your core.

"No more holdin' back, no more fightin' what we all been chasin' too damn long," he rasped, dexterous fingers already seeking out the most intimate planes of your shuddering form.

The urgency only seemed to ratchet higher as they began divesting themselves of clothing with frantic yanks and rustling fabric. You whimpered at the unveiled reveal of Atsumu's sunkissed skin and taut musculature as his shirt hit the tiles. Osamu was equally mouth-watering behind you - all granite ridges of powerful muscle sheathed in olive-toned radiance.

Within moments, all three of you were bare and thrumming in the steamy bathroom. Atsumu stepped into the tub first, calloused palms skating up your sides until he could tug you against his body in one sinuous motion. The searing kiss of his cock branding your lower abdomen punched out a desperate mewl.

"C'mere, sweetheart," he growled against the slope of your neck, lapping patterns of liquid fire with his talented tongue. "Let me show you how to fully let go..."

You barely had a moment to gather your wits before Osamu plastered himself along your backside, the twin layers of scorching heat utterly suffocating in the most delirious way. His massive palms mapped the generous curves of your hips and thighs in a clear claim of possession before hooking under your knees.

"That's our good girl," he rumbled in your ear as he and Atsumu lifted you in tandem, utterly surrounded and cradled by their virile bulk. "Gonna treat you so sweet, darlin'...make you come apart on our cocks over and over until there's nothin' left but blissed-out boneless."

The thought of being so thoroughly, rapturously undone by these two beautiful demigods had your pussy fluttering with desperate, aching need. You would gladly splinter into a thousand pieces if it meant basking in the furious, unholy blaze of their passions fully unleashed without restraint.

For once, you surrendered to that primal side of your psyche without any shred of hesitation. Allowed the liquid lava flow of yearning to consume every last rational circuit until only raw, blazing instinct remained.

"Please..." you heard yourself keen as your body was slowly lowered onto Atsumu's rigid cock. The exquisite, shuddering breach arrowed white-hot ecstasy straight into your core as you wailed into the steamy air, "Oh god...pleasepleaseplease..."

The answering growls of approval were utterly feral, spilling from between gritted teeth as Atsumu sheathed himself to the hilt inside your molten clutch. Your head fell back against Osamu's broad shoulder, eyes rolling back in a delirious moan at the sensation of being completely, gloriously stuffed.

"Fuck..." Atsumu panted, fingers clenching and flexing against the globes of your ass as he attempted to rein himself back from the edge. "Goddamn, you feel even better than I imagined... ‘Samu, spread her wider."

The grey-haired twin growled his wordless assent, gripping the underside of your knees until you were completely splayed out. You keened helplessly as the position allowed you to feel every exquisite inch of Atsumu's massive, velvet steel buried to the hilt inside your pussy.

"You wanton little goddess, just look at how greedy yer perfect little cunt is swallowin' my dick," he panted, hips flexing up in shallow grinds that had his girth dragging torturously over that swollen bud of nerves. "Can't wait to fill ya up and watch the proof spill outta you later..."

He punctuated the filthy words with a punishing snap of his hips that made you scream and jolt forward. The resulting impact ground your clit against his pelvis in an instant, triggering an electric current of bliss to ricochet through your entire system.

"Fuck yes, right there...you love takin' us both, don'tcha sweetheart?" Osamu growled, lips skimming the shell of your ear as his blunt crown nudged your rear entrance. "Let me feel how fuckin' sweet this pretty little ass is while I fill you up."

He punctuated the command by circling his engorged tip around the sensitive, puckered rim. Strong hands hiked your knees up higher and wider, practically folding you in half until your thighs were pressed flush against your breasts.

The position left you utterly exposed and splayed open - a fact that made both twins growl and buck in tandem as the erotic visual registered. You couldn't bite back the shameless whimper of want that tore from your throat at the sensation of Osamu's velvety hardness slipping inexorably inside.

The twin sensations of being so completely filled by them was almost enough to send you flying apart then and there. But they held you pinned and suspended between their muscular bulk, utterly trapped in the most glorious way.

"Yer so fuckin' perfect, (Y/N)," Osamu groaned, hips grinding against the round globes of your ass as he bottomed out. "So fuckin' gorgeous when yer stuffed fulla our cocks and beggin' for more."

You writhed and whimpered, utterly lost to the ecstasy of their combined presence and the sinfully carnal drag of their pulsing girths. A litany of pleas and babbling whimpers spilled from your swollen lips, utterly incoherent beyond begging for more.

Atsumu and Osamu seemed to read your body like a language they spoke fluently, instinctively knowing exactly how to work you apart in the most devastating way. With a snarl, the blond surged forward, capturing your lips in a sloppy, claiming kiss. His tongue swept in to tangle with yours, coaxing and tasting with filthy swirls and languid flicks.

"Mmm...she's so fucking sweet, 'Samu," Atsumu purred, eyes half-lidded with unadulterated lust as he devoured the sight of your debauched form. "Gotta taste that pretty mouth for myself..."

A sharp nip to your bottom lip accompanied the last word. Without warning, Osamu snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself fully inside your tight ass with one punishing thrust. You threw your head back on a wanton scream, unable to stifle the sounds bubbling up your throat even if you'd wanted to.

The two men set a blistering pace then, fucking into your splayed form with unbridled abandon. Osamu's powerful hands gripped the ample flesh of your thighs, ensuring your pussy and ass were spread wide and stuffed full for every single punishing thrust. Atsumu's fingers dug bruising crescents into the supple curves of your ass as his cock pistoned into you.

Both sets of calloused fingers seemed intent on leaving their mark on your skin - a claim etched into the deepest marrow of your bones until nothing but pure ecstasy remained. The molten-steel heat of their engorged lengths sliding against each other through the thin barrier only made the friction that much more blistering.

"Oh fuck...don't stop," you panted, nails digging into the taut muscle of their biceps as you hung suspended and writhing between their muscular bulk. "Please don't stop...feels so goddamn good!"

Atsumu's groan sounded torn from his very core as his hips snapped up in a bruising thrust. The impact of his balls slapping against your skin sent another wave of liquid fire roaring through your core.

"Yeah, sweetheart...take us both like the good little whore you are," Osamu snarled, tongue licking a scorching path along the delicate curve of your shoulder. "This what you needed so bad? To be stuffed fulla cock and pumped 'til yer stuffed with our cum?"

Your answer was a high-pitched wail, head thrown back against his broad chest as his thick length plunged deep into your ass. The sensation was almost overwhelming - the molten glide of their girths rubbing and stroking against each other in tandem.

"Look at ya," Atsumu groaned, staring down the line of your torso where your body was speared open between them. "So goddamn perfect with yer pretty little pussy and ass stuffed so full...just like they were always meant to be."

His fingers trailed down your belly, ghosting feather-light circles over the skin stretched tight from their relentless invasion. Osamu's free hand mirrored the movement, the contrast of their calloused caresses setting off a chain reaction of pleasure-fueled shivers.

"Fuck yeah, we can feel the head of my dick through her tight little stomach," Atsumu growled, fingers pressing deeper to trace the outline of his shaft buried inside. "You see that, 'Samu? We're fillin' her up so goddamn good."

"Hell yeah," his twin rasped, tongue and teeth worrying at the juncture of your shoulder. "And I can't fuckin' wait to see her pretty belly bulgin' with our cum. Markin' her as ours and ours alone."

The thought triggered another cascade of electric heat to sizzle straight through your center, and you were distantly aware of the wet gush soaking your thighs. They groaned and panted, both sets of hips jackhammering with increased vigor.

"Shit, feels like she's gettin' tighter," Atsumu gritted, eyes locked on the point where he and Osamu were pumping in tandem. "She likes it when we talk about how we're gonna breed her."

Osamu hummed his agreement, large hands spanning the breadth of your lower abdomen to press down on the slight bulge from Atsumu's cock. You wailed at the added pressure, vision tunneling with the onslaught of sensory overload.

"Y'like that, darlin'?" the grey-haired twin crooned, teeth grazing your pulse point. "Gonna keep you nice and full with our cum all night...over and over again 'til ya can't remember what it's like not havin' our cocks buried inside ya."

"And once we've gotcha knocked up with our babies, we'll still keep comin' back for more," Atsumu rasped, watching as Osamu's fingers hovered over the slight swell. "Keep fillin' this pussy and ass 'til yer absolutely stuffed and leakin' with our cum."

It was too much - the filthy, decadent promises pouring from their sinful mouths, the way their powerful forms bracketed and dominated your own, the maddening drag and grind of their twin cocks buried so deep within. The pressure building in your core became a tsunami threatening to drown you under the deluge.

"Oh god..." you sobbed, back arching and limbs quaking as the wave threatened to crest. "I-I'm so close...I can't...please don't stop, oh god...I'm--"

"Fuck, she's squeezin' us so tight," Atsumu groaned, forehead dropping to yours as his hips slammed up in a frenzied tempo. "C'mon, baby. Come for us, let go and come all over our cocks like a good girl..."

His fingers slipped down to circle the throbbing bud nestled in your soaked folds, pinching and rolling. It was too much - the sheer overwhelming perfection of it all. You shattered, falling apart into a million glittering shards as the world erupted into brilliant white.

"Holy fuck!" Atsumu bellowed, the sound echoing in the steam-hazed air as his own release triggered a violent, shuddering cascade. His hips stuttered and punched up in a brutal series of thrusts as he came, the warmth of his spend flooding your core and filling every crevice.

Osamu roared as the twin sensations triggered his own climax, burying himself to the hilt and grinding his hips against your ass. The molten flood of his seed seemed to set off a secondary ripple of orgasmic bliss, and you keened and jolted between them as you felt a heavy rush of liquid gushing out.

"Fuck, she's squirtin' all over me," Atsumu hissed, eyes clenched shut as his head tipped back on a wrecked groan."'Samu, you seeing this? Goddamn, that's the hottest fuckin' thing..."

"Holy shit," the grey-haired twin breathed, panting heavily as his own hips continued to buck up in a reflexive grind. "Never seen anyone fuckin' do that before. So goddamn sexy, baby."

Their praise was punctuated by the steady drip of liquid trickling from between your splayed legs, mingling with the water and their mixed release already swirling down the drain. You were too delirious with the aftershocks of ecstasy to speak, head lolling back against Osamu's slick chest and panting for breath.

"Think you've got one more in ya, sweetheart?" Atsumu coaxed, leaning forward to capture your lips in a languid kiss. His fingers were already stroking teasingly over the swollen bud of your clit, coaxing your limp body back into a fevered simmer. "I want her ass this time, 'Samu. Gotta have a taste of that tight little hole."

"Yeah, think she's good to go, Tsumu," Osamu rumbled, hips still flexing minutely to keep the delicious friction going. "How's it feel, darlin'? Did we wear you out enough yet?"

The question was punctuated by a filthy grind that made your pussy flutter with renewed interest. Your answering moan was garbled and incoherent, but the way you pressed back against Osamu's still-engorged length seemed to signal all they needed to hear.

"That's our good girl," Atsumu praised, voice pitched low and rough with hunger. "So beautiful, lettin' us fill ya up and fuck you until yer a boneless mess..."

You gasped as Osamu's cock pulled free of your ass, leaving a trail of warm, viscous fluid dripping down your thighs. Before you could protest the loss, you felt the blunt tip of Atsumu’s cock nudging against the tight ring of your rear entrance.

"Goddamn, you really did make a mess back here," the blond breathed, sounding almost awed. "Just look at all that cum drippin' outta her. 'Samu, spread her wider. Wanna see everythin' as I take her tight little ass."

With a groan, the grey-haired twin complied, using his grip on the underside of your thighs to pull your cheeks even wider apart. A fresh wave of liquid gushed down your skin, prompting an answering moan from Atsumu as his cock slipped inexorably inside.

"Oh fuck yes," the blond hissed, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass as he began pumping shallowly. "You feel so goddamn good, sweetheart. Yer such a good little slut, taking both our cocks like this."

The filthy words made your spent pussy clench, spurring Osamu's fingers into a blur of motion over the swollen bud. His own cock was pressed up along your spine, shamelessly rutting against the slick valley of your back while his brother slowly fucked into your ass.

The rest of the evening devolved into a fevered, filthy haze of sin and sensation. At some point, Atsumu and Osamu shifted you off the shower and back into the bedroom. But you were too blissed-out and overwhelmed to register much more beyond the constant, delicious stretch and drag of their cocks pumping in and out.

Your throat was raw and hoarse by the time Atsumu and Osamu finally declared the marathon over, only once you were utterly spent and covered in a sheen of sweat and drying release. You barely registered being tucked into the middle of the massive bed, cocooned in a nest of soft blankets and wrapped between two solid walls of male bulk.

Sleep claimed you instantly, pulling you into the deepest, most restful slumber you'd had in ages. And you never noticed the silent exchange between the twins, or the shared glance of satisfaction and smug contentment as they settled in on either side.

You were awoken the next morning to the sensation of a pair of soft lips suckling at your nipple. Your eyes flew open with a gasp, only to find Atsumu's dark gaze peering up at you from the valley of your breasts. He flicked his tongue out to swirl teasingly around the pert bud, humming with pleasure as his eyes slipped shut in an expression of rapture.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he purred, the silky timbre sending delicious shivers through your form.

"Morning, Tsumu," you whispered, the words catching in a gasp as he took the nipple fully into his mouth, suckling and swirling.

The action triggered a fresh rush of moisture between your thighs, and the blond growled as he felt your hips instinctively cant up against his hardness. His palm skated up your bare side, cupping the other breast and rolling the stiff peak between his thumb and forefinger.

Atsumu was suddenly yanked back, and you found yourself blinking in dazed confusion at Osamu's looming presence as the grey-haired twin's arm pinned his brother to the mattress.

"I told you to let her sleep in," Osamu snarled, his baritone even rougher with sleep. "You've been rutting against her all damn night and need to learn some goddamn self control."

His eyes shifted to your startled form, and his gaze instantly softened. You could practically see the gears turning behind those stormy depths, the way he was mentally cataloging your disheveled state and assessing the situation. "Besides, we’re supposed to let her decide who she wants, once and for all."

You sat up slowly, your mind still hazy from sleep and the events of the previous night. Confusion etched across your features as you looked between the two brothers, trying to make sense of Osamu's words.

"What do you mean, 'decide who I want'?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Atsumu managed to wriggle out from under Osamu's arm, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. "We had a deal," he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite the tension in the room. "We both wanted you, so we agreed to let you choose between us after last night."

Osamu shot his brother a glare. "You make it sound like some kind of game," he growled. "This is about her feelings, not just our own."

As the twins bickered back and forth, you felt a sudden surge of clarity amidst the confusion. "Wait," you interrupted, your voice cutting through their argument. "Do I... Do I really have to choose?"

The room fell silent, both brothers turning to look at you with surprise. Atsumu's eyes widened for a moment before a slow, suggestive grin spread across his face. "Well, well, well," he purred, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. "Looks like our girl might be kinkier than we thought, 'Samu."

Osamu's gaze met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. "Is that what you want, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his voice laced with a tender warmth that made your heart flutter. "You want both of us?"

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but you held Osamu's gaze steadily. "I... I don't know if I can choose," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love the both of you so much, and last night was..."

Atsumu's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hear that, 'Samu? We rocked her world so hard, she can't even pick a favorite."

Osamu rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He leaned in closer to you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "If that's what you want, baby girl, then that's what you'll get," he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "We'll just have to make sure you're thoroughly satisfied... by both of us."

Atsumu chuckled, his fingers trailing teasingly along your arm. "Hope you're ready for round two, princess. And three, and four..."

[grison-in-space]

Stupidest of stupid questions: So humans are trichromatic, right? We basically have RGB eyes. How inefficient would it be to have CMYK eyes? Is it even possible?

You could absolutely do CMY eyes, but the K (being black) is a little more difficult because black isn't a wavelength of light so much as the absence of light. I suppose you could call the K your rods, which are best used in low light and convey things like "shadows" and "movement" particularly effectively. As a human, the most sensitive part of your retina, the part you're using when you directly look at things, is called the fovea. It is PACKED with cones, which are good for color and also tight spatial resolution; rods are found outside along the periphery of both the retinal and visual field. So we're just going to set the K aside now and think about those cones.

Honestly, tetrachromat eyes are technically pretty easy to achieve: all you need is four versions of cone-rhodopsin genes getting translated into different kinds of cone-rhodopsin cells in your retina. Old World primates evolved our trichromat eyes from dichromat mammalian ancestors exactly this way: with a gene duplication in one core cone-rhodopsin gene that allowed one of the copies to accumulate mutations until a sufficiently divergent copy fixed in the population.

So to have CMY eyes, you'd need three cone-rhodopsins with different wavelength sensitivities: one that is most sensitive to cerulean, one most sensitive to maroon, and one most sensitive to yellow. You might or might not have better color resolution than a regular old RGB human, though: color resolution is partly a function of the sensory information hitting your retinas, but it's also partly a function of how much brain space you dedicate to processing that information.

I mentioned my blind cat Arthur the other day--here's a photo:

Arthur is what we call cortically blind. As a kitten, he had an intact pupillary reflex and could probably see light vs dark, but he also had severe nystagmus, so his pupils jittered uncontrollably all the time and he probably didn't get a whole lot of useful visual input. Without the visual experience of seeing things and learning how to organize and process visual information, his brain as he developed went "you know what? fuck this" and stopped dedicating any processing power to whatever visual input he was getting.

Basically, he lost visual acuity because the information he was able to pipe to his brain was fragmented and poor-quality enough that his brain stopped bothering to process it. If I pulled his current eyeballs out and magically hooked up new totally functional ones, he wouldn't be able to do anything with them: his brain has given up sorting out the information.

So the question of whether theoretical CMY humans could distinguish colors better than RGB humans is driven by two things: one, whether having two highly-overlapping cones helps you distinguish between slightly variant light types better than very different cones, and two, whether we're extending the total visual range by moving the cones at the external ends of the range (B and R) farther apart. Overlapping but unique sensory information can be really helpful for localizing and distinguishing similar-but-not-identical inputs--that's one of the reasons owls are good at localizing quiet noises, actually, their ears are wildly asymmetrical and they can computer where a noise is made based on how loudly it can be heard with each ear, especially if the owl is on the move as it listens. Like the Doppler effect, but faster with a lot more processing power on it.

I have no idea which would be more effective, but it's a fun thing to think about!

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - All's Quiet on the BL Front

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 3 of 12 - I love how were getting a solid depiction of two queers just genuinely enjoying sex with each other. That’s actually rare in BL. In this case, it manages to also be weirdly adorable and cute.

Dee is such a tease. I guess Y likes a brat? 

LOOK at those bedroom eyes!

Linguistics corner: when these two are being serious, sweet, or flirty with each other they use rao/nai which is kind of old fashioned and charming and not common in BL. They move pretty seamlessly into gu/mueng and back depending on the style of convo, tho. It's FUN to hear them talk.

Let the fake relationship commence!

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 12 eps - I HAVE THOUGHTS. I'm really enjoying the sinister backbone of this show. I hope they have the courage of their convictions in that regard and lean into a kind of sexy evil revenge narrative. It was a pleasure to watch the break up and I do not want a redemption arc for Ming or a romance for us. Fuck 'em, let’s just ride a revenge train, okay Joe baby?

That’s said, I totally sniffled at the ending scene where Ming (for two years!) has been paying penance cooking for two and waiting alone. Excellent pathos. Now, I understand how they're gonna make this a full 12 eps. And I’m excited about it. Carry on!

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 7 of 16 - I wasn't a fan of Winny & Satang in My School President but I'm loving them in this. The thing with Q, Toey, and Chain had me hooting with laughter. I think I’m finally just easing into the relaxed absurdity of this show. The key is not to expect anything from it. Just them being tiny gay idiots.

Two Worlds (iQIYI) ep 10 fin - Someday I’d like to really enjoy a MaxNat show, but today was not that day. (I feel like ever since Between Us I’ve been generally disenchanted with established OG pairs and what they’re bringing to the table. Perhaps that’s a discussion for another day. Cherry Magic excepted, of course.) 

OK, so this final episode, they sure tried to fit a lot in. But that made the pacing better for me. So I kinda liked this weird cliff notes resolution to the story.

In conclusion:

MaxNat do a credible job with a messy script about parallel worlds, gangsters, and strange diseases cured by forest fruits. It sounds confusing because it is. The chemistry is excellent the side pair is entirely forgotten about, and one could drive a Tardis through the plot holes. Still, I found it modestly enjoyable if not at all rewatchable. 7/10 

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 6 of 12 - I do love how bold and brash Moo is. He’s truly a great character, such an utter outgoing sunshine puppy focused on his pursuit of his older boy. I'm charmed by his utter harmlessness. They gave us a sweet coming out scene, and an awesome supportive mom. Frankly GMMTV has a good track record with moms. (With a few noted exceptions, of course.)

That said, I do keep forgetting this is a GMMTV offering. It just doesn't FEEL GMMTV. Just me?

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 1 of 10 - Starts tomorrow, will report on sitch next week. LeeFrank are back - not unlike the undead. But how do we feel about it? Unsure given their track record.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - I like it. I like our sulky 2nd lead. He’s pouty, adorable, brash, and adding some much-needed tension to this narrative. The blurring lines between show within a show is a lot of fun. Probably the best I've seen done in BL so far.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - I like that we got backstory, but we also sort of already knew it. So this ep felt a bit like filler. They are wonderful when they’re on screen together but when they aren't it's a bit dull. I hope we just get them together for the next 4 eps. But this is Japan, so I doubt it.

Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - The image resolution on this show (via Iqiyi ) is terrible. Meanwhile, awkward crush. Jock nerd pairing. Dorky. Maybe a bit too much awkward/dorky for me? I'm not sold on this one.

Meanwhile the ordering then not eating or drinking of food continues. Very upsetting.

Boys Be Brave (Korea Viki) eps 5-8fin - This show was just never sure what it wanted to be. Slacker sunshine KiSub moves in with nerd JinWoo, mostly because he knows JinWoo likes him but won't confess and that's never happened to him before. It reminded me of some earlier KBLs like Behind Cut, yes is had bones but not much flesh, so it only just hung together and progressed through not very much plot in a jerking rattling fashion like an animated skeleton. All the story and chemistry was with the side couple and none of the screen time. That just annoyed me. What did this BL want to BE? Who tf knows. I, for one, don’t care, and resolve to think no more on it. 6/10 

Blue Boys (Korea Sat YouTube) - This ended at 4 eps on a cliffhanger. Since this is a very small studio I don’t have a lot of faith in there being a part two. But they have bundled both this BL, and the GL, bingable chunks on YT. So if you want to binge it, it’s there. Just be aware that it ends on a cliffhanger.

My thoughts?

Promising reunion romances full of class and coming out struggles but I grade with what we got, not on expectations, and you know I HATE a cliffhanger. So yeah, it HAD promise but as of now it gets a 4/10 - fatally flawed. I reserve the right to change my mind if they amend for damages.

It's airing but...

You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - mini series staring the I Will Knock You couple Tar & Bom, started but I couldn't find it. I also didn't try very hard.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

A Balloon's Landing (Taiwan movie) trailer - A frustrated Hong Kong writer, Tian Yu, meets a Taipei street gangster, Xiang (Fandy Fan from HIStory2: Crossing the Line), and the two of them embark on a journey to find the Bay of Vanishing Whales. Along the way, they discover unexpected twists and turns and close bonds, which brings out the message that "there is always someone like you in this world who is waiting for you. This released to cinemas in Taiwan, no word on international release.

In case you missed it

A really really thorough and fascinating article on 2 Moons 2 and what happened.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

May Releases

VBL (Taiwan) is releasing 4 'Special Episode' epilogues to their 4 2023 shows every Friday this month on Gagaoolala, Viki & Viu. Not sure on search terms or how to find these. (Or, frankly, if we need them.)

5/10 – You Are Mine

5/17 – VIP Only

5/24 – Stay By My Side

5/31 – Anti Reset

5/25 The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer - HoTae & DongHee are back but unfortunately not in a cinema near me. Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS.

5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer

5/30 Knock Knock Boys (Thai Thurs WeTV) - I'm hoping I can get it elsewhere since my WeTV account is inactive, but I do love Best and I'm interested in seeing him in a new pairing. That said, I'm not wild about Seng... so I won't be too cut up if I can't get hold of this. More here.

5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I'm a sucker for this king of casual claiming. (Only Boo)

It me! (Wandee Goodday)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @sunflower-positiiivity @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[agentmarvel]

center image by @/ave661

PART IV

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 3,106

cw: genre-typical violence, non-descript injury

♡

Or perhaps you won’t.

You’re seething, teeth clenched and hands flailing as you express your resolute displeasure.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Simon! I’m old enough to shop alone!”

The tone of your voice borders on shrill, pitch rising with your temper. Fury rolls off of you in waves, incensed by the notion that you’d need one of his men following you around. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger, taking a measured breath as he contemplates what information you need to placate you. Perhaps he should’ve laid out the simpler rules first…

“Not a babysitter,” he grumbles, scrubbing that same hand across his jaw. “They’ll only be there to keep you safe.”

“From what? A fucking can of soup, Simon? New shoes? Rogue cart in a parking lot? Or, god forbid, a cashier that might ask how my day is going?”

“That’s not it - “

“Then what is it? Am I some sort of prisoner now? Scared I’m going catch a flight home and you’ll have to settle your debts like a grown man? Or is it just improper to have a lady in public without supervision? What fucking century are you living in?” You’re venomous in mocking him, fangs dripping with no intent of mercy, coiled up and ready to strike as soon as you find a soft spot. He’d like to say he understands, but you really have no reason to bite the hand that feeds. You don’t appreciate the gravity of the situation.

Simon utters your name softly, trying to pull you from your diatribe long enough to listen to reason. You’re not having it.

“I’m a person, Simon. I’m not your fucking property. I don’t need to be stalked by some half-wit thug with a God complex just because you are insecure. Believe it or not, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. You can’t - “

“Just listen - “

“What’s next? Lo-jacking my phone? Hiding a tracker in my purse lining? Chipping me like a fucking dog?”

“Enough!” he snarls, curt and cold. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears, pounding like a drum. His fingers curl into his palms, fists clenching. Your eyes go wide at his thunderous bark, but your face doesn’t betray your surprise otherwise. “My job is… dangerous sometimes, alright? Enemies come easy, and a lot of ‘em. Rules are in place to keep you safe, and you will follow them. Don’t like it? I don’t fuckin’ care. This ain’t a game, love. Your life is not a fuckin’ game.”

“What do you mean, ‘dangerous’?”

He stays quiet.

“Simon, tell me.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Simon?” You’re almost pleading at this point, anger all but draining. In fact, there’s an edge of fear when you say his name. He hates the sound.

Your beautiful doe eyes stare at him expectantly, and he folds like a lawn chair. Stubborn little thing, prodding like a needle until you get what you’re after. He’ll never confess how weak he is for that darling gaze.

Simon sighs, shoulders sagging from their tense, defensive position.

“I’m a black market contractor.” It’s a half-truth, a muted admission, but it’s better than handing you a live wire and throwing you in the deep end. You’ve had enough shocks in recent weeks; if he can save you from one more, he will.

“That’s how you know my father,” you say after a beat of silence. He nods.

“More or less.”

“Okay.” It’s followed by a heavy exhale that puffs out your lips and round cheeks. As inappropriate as the thought is in the moment, Simon can’t help but find it winsome. “Can you just, uhm, can you tell me the rest of the rules now, please?”

“‘course.”

He takes his time explaining as he guides you through your new home; the importance of setting the perimeter alarm while he’s away, the necessity of privatizing your social media accounts, a solid boundary of not having guests in the house without him vetting them first. You listen raptly, doll eyes staring up at him. Whether they’re full of engrossment or dread, he isn’t quite sure, but he enjoys your attention all the same.

You don’t ask many questions. Through the hallways, you generally acquiesce to his requests without resistance and ignore the closed doors. But one door seems to grab your attention at the end of the corridor, and when you ask about it, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

Simon pays attention, you see. Your socials gave away far too many of your interests and hobbies (don’t read into that - he only spent days digging back nearly a decade). He spent nearly a month cautiously cultivating the contents beyond the multitudes that were already in his possession, and he knows that room will be your favorite.

“That’s the library,” he comments casually, feigning no knowledge of the depth of your enthusiasm. Your face lights up, though you try to bury the delight behind your collected façade.

“Am I allowed in there?”

“Of course.”

You pause a moment before asking, “Are there any rooms I’m not allowed in?”

He shakes his head. There’s no need to disclose the armory to you, really; you’ll never need to use it. His gallery of weaponry and wares hides behind a covert veneer, a door that doesn’t appear as a door, something you’d never think twice of in cursory glances. And that door is behind a door that remains locked at all times inside Simon’s office. The thought does occur that it may behoove him to teach you how to defend yourself, but what are the odds anyone would ever get close enough? Near zero.

“Only thing I ask is that you knock ‘fore you come in the study. Prefer to keep my work separate from my personal life. Rest of the house is fair game; it’s yours now, too.”

Like a broken record, he keeps slipping that in wherever possible. Repetition breeds remembrance, and he’d hate for you to forget that you’re a Riley now…

♡

The staff gathers in the foyer shortly before breakfast.

Simon regards them all fondly. Each is a well-oiled cog in a seamless machine; some pieces newer than others, but all perfectly functional. He hates to reduce them from sum to parts, but they’re all instrumental in his operations. He couldn’t do what he does without them, especially not now that he’s married. You’ll learn their functions, fragments, and faces. You’ll come to love and trust them as deeply as he does.

Your soft footfalls pad down the stairs right on time. The hitch in your breathing indicates a yawn, and he can hear a nearly imperceptible swish of fabric as you cover your mouth to hide it. Step-by-step, he tracks your progress until you reach what should be the last stair. You stop. He glances over his shoulder and offers a muted smile, taking in the only mildly disheveled sight of you first thing in the morning - wet hair, sweatpants, and a faded t-shirt. You’re stunning… and a bit surprised by the number of people in your house.

“C’mere,” he says softly. It’s as much a command as a suggestion, but you’re likely to be a bit more receptive if he isn’t too pushy, right? See, he’s learning, bit-by-bit, how to communicate with you to his advantage. Manipulation tactics aren’t ideal, but if it gets you on his side sooner, so be it.

Finicky thing, aren’t you? Emotional. Reactive. You respond to him like a feral creature backed into a corner, all claws and quarrel. Lashing out, he understands. He’s seen that deer-in-the-headlights look a million times over - though usually, it’s right before he unloads a clip in some sleazy nobody’s head or right after he makes a near impossible shot on a corrupt high-powered target. It’s something entirely different to see that look on his wife. Something that sets his teeth on edge.

So, he’ll adapt. Even if that means one-sided psychological warfare until you’re willing to meet him in the middle.

“Good morning,” you greet, enthusiasm absent but polite nonetheless, as you approach his side. To the dismay of the gnawing ache in his bones to pull you close, you stay just out of arm's reach, folding yours across your chest.

His host of guests responds in kind, scattered smatterings of verbal responses and mere nods mixed together.

“Our staff,” Simon announces. “I’m sure you recognize them from the wedding, but that’s Johnny and Kyle.”

He points to each in kind, Johnny giving you a charming grin and Kyle tipping the brim of his ballcap.

“My babysitters, right?” you ask blankly with an edge of snark. Johnny snickers, but tries to mask his amusement as soon as Simon hits him with a sharp, warning glare.

He ignores your comment, though.

“Farah and Alex are in charge of housekeeping; they bring in a team twice weekly for thorough cleans. If you’d like them to not touch your room, please let them know. They’re good about that.” What he doesn’t say is that Farah is also his head of private security, ensuring all safety protocols are in place, and Alex is in charge of the armory. He keeps an accurate inventory of what comes in and out, makes sure everything is organized and in working order, spends the bulk of his time methodically cleaning the instruments Simon takes on each assignment until no trace is left.

“Roach runs the kitchen - ” Double duty - chef and personal trainer. Sanderson oversees Johnny and Kyle’s nutrition, workout regimen, and training drills to keep them in peak shape to keep up with their boss.

“- Nikolai is my driver - “ Primarily a pilot, really, but he’s a man of many talents. He’s saved Simon’s hide more than once in a pinch, trained as a medic with the Russian Army, and is, by all accounts, an absolute fucking Savant when it comes to mechanics. He’s a force to be reckoned, akin to a hurricane when prompted. 

“- Yuri handles landscaping - ” And assists Farah with external security. He does routine perimeter checks and looks for flaws in the system. When he’s not lurking about outside, he’s assisting Nikolai with transportation repairs or in the armory with Alex. Jack of all trades, in a sense; always willing to lend a hand. He’s even volunteered to act as your personal chauffeur when Nikolai is away. How chivalrous.

“- and I’ve picked you up a new mobile for emergencies.” He holds out a new phone for you, knowing the old one was conveniently left inside his jet and was subsequently smashed beyond recognition. This one is identical in model to your previous in all ways but one - an invisible tracking app pre-installed by Kyle. You’ll find absolutely no indication of tampering, and he’ll be able to keep tabs on you from a distance.

You’re hesitant, but take it from his grasp.

“We’re still looking for your old one. Finish setting it up after brekkie, yeah?”

He’s met with silence and a wary glance. It’s almost like you know he’s lying - which he is, but only mostly. They’re still sweeping the floors for fragments of your screen.

“Right, off you fuck, the lot of ya,” Simon announces with a lopsided grin. “Breakfast is on the table - thanks, Roach - and we’ll join you in a sec.”

“Not sure how I feel about a guy called ‘Roach’ being in charge of the kitchen,” you reply automatically, clapping a horrified hand over your mouth as soon as you realize what you’ve said. Roach laughs, full and hearty, at that. You can only offer a bashful smile and an apologetic shrug, the embarrassment evident on your face.

“Nothing to worry about, ma’am. I wash my hands, promise.” You giggle at that. “And, if it helps, you can just call me Gary instead.”

You agree, testing the taste of his name with gratitude. Simon would love to hear you say his name with something other than contempt right now. He understands how complex this all is, but he’s your husband, for fuck’s sake. Doesn’t that buy him any wiggle room?

No. No, it doesn’t.

He has to remind himself that while he knows everything about you (that he could find online, that is), you don’t really know him. You don’t know the lengths to which he’d go for you, that he now lives for the happiness of the pretty little specter that haunts his dreams. Don’t worry, he’ll fix that soon.

♡

Blood drips into the water, cardinal beads leaching color as they slip into hazy translucency. Simon watches the streaks circle the drain as the faucet runs on low.

It was a local job, quick and dirty. Solicitor with a nasty penchant for underage girls and enough money to weasel his way out of the legal ramifications. Surveillance indicated his wife was out of town, but Simon didn’t bank on the other woman. The one that stabbed him.

She snuck up on him, striking right after he pulled the trigger. The tip of her blade sliced a neat strip across the side of his neck. Not deep enough to need stitches, but deep enough to piss him off. Her gray matter is splattered all over a nice painting in the solicitor’s flat.

However, a faint sense of guilt gnaws at his nerves. There are no qualms about his actions, no concerns about the successes of his work, but in doing so, he’s lied to you once more. The excuse of a late night meeting shaded the edges just enough to discolor the true intent. That’s what places the unscratchable itch in the back of his mind. 

Coming home, freckled in red, river of rivulets pooling in the curve of his clavicle and dripping down his chest, he doesn’t want you to see that. All the care and caution that has gone into shielding you this one bitter truth would be all for naught if you caught him. Hell, Johnny had to find a way to sneak him back into the house just for Simon to clean up.

It’s late, though; you’re probably already asleep anyway, right?

He turns the faucet off, shaking the loose droplets from his hands before snatching the pair of butterfly bandages from the counter. Each layer peeled away feels like another stripped from Simon himself. Symbolic, almost, the way it mimics your being burrowing deeper into him. Beneath the skin, the fat, the fascia, the muscle; weaving through the fibrous tissue and veins until you’re settled in the deepest part of him. He closes the superficial wound with unflinching hands, but you… It’s far too late to keep you from getting inside.

Tossing his blood and sweat-laden clothing aside, he’s halfway into pulling on a fresh pair of sweats when he hears a tentative knock at his bedroom door. He grumbles something bordering on foul, an unheard warning that there better be a damn good reason for Johnny bugging him right now, but he’s colored a lively shade of surprised when he finds his wife awaiting instead.

“What are you doing up, lovie?” he asks softly, trying to decipher the timid look on your face. You look tired, but there’s a wild awareness in your eyes. They dart across his form, lingering briefly on the bandages before combing the bare planes of his broad chest. He swears he can feel the heat coming off your pretty face when you realize you’ve been caught staring, but no mind is paid as he awaits an answer.

After a beat, you speak - low and soft, hesitant, like you’re trying to tiptoe out loud.

“Can we talk?”

Simon nods, stepping back from the door frame to gesture you inside. The steps you take are calculated; you’re mindful of each separate footfall on the carpet. Trepidatious like a rabbit, ready to bolt at the first sign of a threat, but you won’t find one here. Not with him.

His focus narrows in on you, following so succinctly behind that he can feel the shift of your hips in his palms. A phantom of your perfume trails at your back, beckoning him along. Silly, but he swears he can feel the threads of your sweatshirt between his fingers. He blinks, attention shifting to the tear in the collar and the stain on the sleeve. He actually does know that material well; it used to be his, after all.

“S’that my shirt?”

The stretched sleeve cuffs are long enough to hide your hands, the hands that are wringing together.

“It was in my laundry,” you murmur. “I’m sorry, I can wash it again and - “

“No. It looks good on you, dove. Keep it.” 

He makes a mental note to slip Alex a little extra for taking the initiative. Seeing you in something of his does something to him. Something vulgar and very ungentlemanly, something that tests his restraint, something not at all appropriate for this conversation. He’s subtle in the way he palms then adjusts himself.

Respect, Simon. Show her respect.

“What’s on your mind?”

You sigh, fingers fidgeting.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize. Again. I haven’t really been fair to you. This last month or so has been a lot to cope with, and I’ve just… God, Simon, I’ve been so angry. I don’t know how to deal with it, and it keeps boiling over. It’s never been my intention to take it out on you, and I feel awful that you’re really taking the brunt of it. You don’t deserve that. You’re just as much a victim in this as I am, and - “

“You don’t get it, do you?” His interruption is a bit harsh, he knows, but how many times does he have to say it? “I’m not a victim, love. I chose this. I chose you.”

He doesn’t want to lie to you anymore - can’t, won’t continue to hide things from you. You’ll never be able to truly want him the way he wants you if you don’t wholly know him. This way, you’ll have time to process. You’ll have all the time you need to come to terms with whatever you need to make peace with. It’s better this way, easier. You’d have found out eventually, right?

So, laying his cards on the table, he tells you everything. No stone left unturned, no facet unfaced. He watches your pretty face pale and twist in abject horror as he publishes each element in a bold font. By the time he’s done, no secrets remain. 

Tears run down your cheeks as you try to catch your breath. The second he reaches out to comfort you, you’re gone.

part v - coming soon!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

We'll give it a shot

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: G

CW: aftermath of injury; aftermath of trauma

Tags: Established relationship; recovery; fluff

Notes: Continued from days 3 and 18 - @house-of-the-moving-image and I just wanted them to be happy after all we put them through. 😭❤️

Steve has always been all movement, all fluid grace, for as long as Eddie remembers. On the pitch, in the pool. Shielding others with his own body, his strength. He was proud of this. It was the one thing he knew he was good at.

And then Vecna nearly twisted his limbs from his body. Broke his arm in three different places, his leg in five.

“They say I'll need to be patient,” Steve tells Eddie a few months after everything, hands tangled over the middle console of the van. It's late December and they're on their way back from physical therapy. “Could be months before I walk without crutches. Years maybe before I'm back to the way I was before… or close.”

Eddie clenches his free hand around the steering wheel, like Steve clung to that stupid handrail earlier. White-knuckled and pale-faced, jaw locked tight as he struggled to take a few shaky steps. Not for the first time, he wishes that he'd been faster, pulled him out sooner-

“Eds.”

He snaps back to the present as if pulled by a bungee rope. Steve’s eyes are warm and soft.

“Stop it,” he says, gentle and firm and so very strong, so very Steve. Eddie needs to swallow against the sudden thickness clogging his throat. “You've nothing to hold against yourself. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” Eddie huffs, eyes stubbornly trained on the snowy road. “I helped, is all. You can do this, too. You'll be walking in no time, you just wait.”

“Dunno,” Steve mutters. He sounds so small, so broken, so very much not like himself, and Eddie wishes he could resurrect Vecna, simply to kill him again. Make it more painful this time, let him suffer like he made them suffer. “You saw me just now. Feels like I need to fight forever for every little inch of success.”

“Let's make a deal?”

The words are out before Eddie can think better of it, but the sadness on Steve’s face has given way to curiosity, so he shoulders on.

“We could make it a new year's resolution. If you manage to walk by … July, let's say, I'll quit smoking.”

“Oh, please!” Steve's eyebrow quirks. “As if you could.”

“Of course I could. I'm tired of you whining about my cigarette breath anyhow. What's wrong, big boy? Scared of getting your ass handed to you?”

“Fuck off,” Steve grouses, but his mouth is curling into a smile and his eyes are sparkling. “It's on, dude!”

“Hell, yeah!” Eddie makes no attempt at hiding his smug grin. Count on Steve’s competitive streak to win him over. “It's so on!”

*

“Oh God,” Steve squawks the second his hands lose contact with the crutches. “It's off. Eds, it's off, give’m here.”

“Nuh-uh!” Eddie dances a step back - not far, still close enough to catch Steve in case he falls, but far enough to keep the crutches out of reach. “Just give it a shot, c’mon. You got this.”

Over the distance between them, their eyes meet.

“I've gotcha.”

Steve's eyes light up and a small laugh bubbles from his throat.

And then he walks.

Eddie makes sure to stay a bit ahead, spouting a never-ending string of encouragement and jokes and sweet nonsense. Just keeps talking so that Steve can focus on something other than the fear and the doubt. Guides him with his voice like he's done before, like he'll keep doing for as long as Steve needs, as long as he wants.

The first steps are unsure and wobbly, but soon enough, Steve finds his footing. They've both kicked off their shoes, and the dry summer grass is brittle under their naked feet, the earth soft and warm. The sound of their footfalls mingles with the whirr of the cicadas in the grass, the rush of his own blood in his ears, their mingled laughter, a gorgeous, wonderful symphony of alive, alive, alive.

When Steve’s legs give out and he stumbles, Eddie is there. He cushions their fall with his own body and they go down in a tangle of limbs and laughter, lips meeting before they even hit the ground. The crutches go clattering somewhere to the side.

“I did it!” Steve gasps against his mouth, and Eddie can't tell if the sound is more laugh or more sob. “Shit, did you- did you see that? I did it!”

“You did it,” Eddie rumbles, hands in Steve's hair, kissing his lips and nose and eyes and anything he can reach between words. Both their cheeks are wet with tears, but they're good tears, finally good tears, and he can’t tell whose they are anymore. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they’re alive, and here, and together. “Fuck yeah, you did, always knew you would. So strong, so amazing. Love you so much.”

Steve makes another sound, a raw thing so full of emotion it makes Eddie’s heart flutter, and crashes their lips together again, firmer, longer. Eddie sighs as a hesitant tongue coaxes at his lips, opens up, lets him in.

And then Steve groans and pulls back.

“What?” Eddie asks, insides twisting with worry. “Shit, did you hurt yourself? What-”

“‘m fine!” Steve wheezes, glancing up at him with watery eyes. “You just taste like an ashtray, is all.”

“Oh, c'mon!” Eddie grouses while Steve rolls off him, flops onto his back in the grass. “I had like half a cig this morning.”

“Half a cig too much, then,” Steve beams up at him, all glinting teeth and gold-streaked hair in the sunlight, eyes sparkling with mirth and alive, alive, alive. “I win.”

Eddie pouts. “What though? Can't remember agreeing on a prize, this was all fun and-”

One strong, nimble hand tangles in the collar of his shirt, pulls him in.

“Shut up and kiss me, ash breath.”

Eddie has never obeyed an order more gladly in his life.

All my holiday drabbles

[neetily]

Hi hi! I'm glad to see you again, I hope you're doing okay!!

I was wondering if you had backups for your follower event fics? If you did, I'd love to see the seb + sam fic where the reader was trapped in a fence. If you don't have access it's okay! I'm just glad you feel comfortable enough to come back. Take care <3

hello love! thank you so much for the warm welcome back <3 !! im doing so much better now, thank you :D !!

i have backups of ALL my fics surprisingly. i didn't know i would, i thought they were all lost lol... but ao3 emailed me every single one so YEAH, i have the fic ur looking for!! here it is below <3

— ✧ warnings: stuck trope, oral fixation, spitroast, blowjob, established relationship (fuckbuddies), fingering, drool, saliva, brief cunnilingus, kissing, ass slapping — ✧ word count: 3,928

The opportunity that you've so unfortunately provided them today is stressful for only one out of the three present, and she's currently only went and got her dumb ass stuck in that rickety old fence he's made a comment or two about fixing before. Even offered to fix it up for you himself, the few times he's leaned on it for stability have resulted in his complete mistrust for the splint wood, worried that it might end up hurting you one day. From his position though, and Sam's, it's rather funny to see you between the slats if nothing else. Told ya so rests heavily on the tip of his tongue, begging to be tutted down at you with as much ill-intent as he feels in his tight chest. But what escapes him instead is a loud whistle, a little walk around your embarrassing predicament so as to fully take in the regrettable situation you find yourself in, because someone has to do it, right? And it sure as fuck isn't gonna be you, your face squished against the dirt below, ass up in the air for them to gawk at— did ya have to wear a skirt today, too? Almost as if you were intending for them to walk in on the lewd sight, the kind of imagery that only exists in porn to his knowledge. Not that he's complaining, really. A smile tugging at his lips as he assesses the scene with butterflies in his tummy.

It's the perfect opportunity, really. A quick glance towards Sam offering him the filthy resolution he's been seeking. The cheeky smirk his friend wears in kind, an unspoken communication of: she won't mind, right?

Given that they've played with you on plenty occasions before; were you perhaps trying to entice them on purpose? Needy little thing like you, getting yourself stuck in such plain view like that, knowing that they were planning on visiting today to help around the farm; and not just an excuse to play with you some more, promise! His boot coming out quick to kick at the fence where you aren't posted, the shrill squeak you let out in return from feeling the vibrations run along your trapped body tells him all he needs to know.

You really are stuck, you fucking idiot.

He walks to your front, bending his knees to squat before you. One finger under your chin to help tilt your gaze up to his half-lidded stare, a knowing smirk on his lips when you let out a low huff of disapproval at his leering. "How'd this happen, then?" He cocks his head to the side, peripheral vision granting him clarity on what Sam intends to do as his friend gets situated behind you, gaze glued to your ass as you unknowingly wiggle around for freedom. All you're doing is teasing them, baby... Inherently provocative, pushing their buttons without even trying. So really, it's your own fucking fault that he's bulging in his pants right now, isn't it? Which is why he feels no guilt in openly palming away between his legs, cock already hot and heavy under his perverted touch while awaiting your surely useless reply— it doesn't matter what you have to say for yourself, he's already made his mind up. And he's sure Sam is much the same, cock quickly hardening from behind your ass at the wordless agreement to take advantage of you in such an erotic position. Wouldn't you do the same if the roles were reversed? Fuck, now that's an idea, huh?

After some time, what is in actuality probably just a few seconds of more than likely resigning to your trapped fate, you answer him with a sigh. "Was trying to fix it, like you suggested..." Course you were, he thinks to himself. Didn't think to ask him for help like how he had offered, Sam too. Knowing that a dumb little girl like you wouldn't know where to even start when it comes to fixing things, right? So it's no surprise to him that you've gotten yourself in such a sticky situation; in more ways that one, soon enough, if he and Sam have anything to do about it. And really, it's only their opinion that truly matters right now, if you want any kind of hope of escaping your self imposed confines today that is. "And— Look, I don't know exactly what happened, but I'm here now, and no matter what I do I can't get out..."

He finally lets go of that self serving tut upon your lacking explanation, smiling to himself at Sam's matching patronising laugh. It's more than a shared want to exploit you for your mishap, rather, a deep seated need to express their mutual affections for you, in perhaps the filthiest way possible. Because it's the most easily understood confession, right? The finger he's got lifting your chin up dropping, and your head swiftly follows, still eagerly palming away at the tent in his pants when Sam places a hand on your ass and you jump in response—as much as possible given your stuck position—in an honest display for their eyes to feast on. You're real cute when you're unsure, bunny.

"Need some help?" Sam asks rhetorically, but the tone he carries his words with resembles more like a sugary sweet coo rather than anything genuine. A flirt, to an extent, letting his hand lightly grab and squeeze at the fat of your barely covered ass; you always were so good at teasing them, weren't you? So you've got no one to blame but yourself when his thumb digs into your ass, pulling at the cheek to taunt your stupidity, giving you a brief wow at the assumed sliver of cunt you offer him from behind your panties. "It'd sure be a shame if someone were t'find you stuck like this, right?" He practically slurs from above, enamoured by the sight of your pretty panty clad ass greeting him. It's one he's grown used to, late at night in your bedroom, even once or twice in the saloon bathroom, taking turns with Sebastian on who keeps watch to make sure no one but themselves get to see the mess their cocks fuck you into. But nonetheless, it's a pretty sight. Especially when his fingers dig harder into your ass, so soft and plush under his perverted touch, aren't you? And so ripe for the taking too, a sweet fruit for him to indulge in while Sebastian talks all nicely to you. All platitudes and pleasantries, keeping the faux casual act up as a means to make the situation just a little hotter. And it gets to Sam, too. Cock pulsing in his tight pants as you wiggle under his exploring touch, driven to tease you some more with the low condescending hum Sebastian lets out, as if he were scolding you.

But he's not, is he? The drone of his voice conveying only appreciation, instead. A small thanks for offering them such a prime opportunity. "Oh, but someone has found you, haven't we?" He begins, the sound of his zipper surely causing you to shiver some more against Sam's hands, made worse only by the tinkle of his friends belt unbuckling, quickly dropping to the ground beside you with a muted thud! "You're lucky it was us, sweetheart," He continues, fighting with his jeans to be able to tug them down low enough to let his cock spring free, the cool air that greets his red hot tip prompting beads of precum to drip for you. Aren't you thirsty, baby? It's a rather warm day today, after all, and God knows how long you've been stuck there. Thankfully, he knows exactly how to help quench you.

"Lucky t'have your friends here t'help you out, right?" Sam picks up where Sebastian left off, taking a harsh suck of air through gritted teeth when he inevitably starts playing with your panties out of instinct. Pinging them against you like the sadist he seems to be, just to hear you whine and beg for mercy. And he laughs to himself, dark and deep, all toothy for Sebastian to mimic when Sam too hauls his cock out of his underwear. Sebastian can't help but noticed the throb of it, veins popped with all the blood collected there. God you're so pretty when you're being so easy for them like this, Sebastian's chest tight at the mere thought of abusing your sorry state of affairs, cock leaking for you before he's even enacted his twisted plans.

"Guys, please—" You plead so prettily, did y'know that? The honeyed tone you adopt can only mean one thing, simply hearing you implore them to be of any actual use is enticing enough, Sebastian's cock twitching and dripping before you. But he waits, listens patiently to hear your plea before denying you the right of salvation. You'll get there, soon enough, but don't you owe them something first? "I've been here for so long, it hurts a little... Can you quit teasing and actually help me?"

They both bark laughter down at you, Sebastian taking to idly fucking his fist while Sam lazily flips your skirt up, enough to allow him to hook a finger under the waistband of your panties to pull them down. Sebastian watches as they pool around your ankle, squeezing the base of his cock a few times in response to Sam's rolled back eyes. "She's so wet already, Seb." Sam rasps, immediately poking and prodding about your perfect angel cunt like routine, finger stroking out those dulcet toned moans for Sebastian to affectionately smile at. Dirty girl, do you like getting caught?

"This what you need help with, right?" Sebastian coos down at you, once again lifting your head up to meet his sultry gaze, swallowing thickly at the sight of your furrowed brows and wobbly lips. His own throat dries as you stare back at him, knowing that he could cum at just the mere thought of your open, wanting, ready to receive cock, mouth. And here you are offering him that sulky expression for free; God, makes his cock ache from how desperately he needs you. "Sure seems like it," He huffs, expression turned a little more serious in the face of your unashamed lust; you might need actual help in freeing yourself, but you can't resist the opportunity of their attack, can you? You're no fucking better than they are, panting over you as if you were the tastiest fucking meal in the world, teeth baring in barely contained excitement to take a bite of you.

And Sam only confirms your stance with how squishy your cunt sounds for him, squelching and sucking his fingers in every time he buries them knuckle deep in your cunt. Exploring your insides like he's done countless times before, and yet still he's impressed with how soft and warm you are. Just a little stretching to help you take his cock, right? You're so used to him by now, don't you love the stretch he provides you? "Bet y'did this on purpose, didn't ya?" He sneers, knowing you can't properly reply when he's flicking the pads of his fingers against your soft spot.

"No... Promise, ah— It— It was an honest mistake..." You mumble your innocence, but the sound of your whiny moans thanks to Sam's fingers deep in your cunt goes right through Sebastian, straight down to his raging hard on that needs attending to, now that you've went and riled him up so easily like that. Joining his friend in kind when he grabs hold of his cock, still keeping your face up for your glassy eyes to peer at him, only... He now angles his cock right in front of you. Dangles it there, waggling it just out of reach of your lips to enjoy your eager whining. He's acting cocky for a reason, confident in Sam's abilities to finger fuck you all better so that he can have some fun with that expert mouth of yours— fuck, so good with your tongue, aren't you? And if he's honest with himself, he'd rather be balls deep down your throat than in your cunt, even if only by a small margin. Taking the opportunity to tap his tip against your lips when they part in pleasure, all thanks to Sam. Toying with you to his hearts content as you remain prone to his mistreatment, smearing fat globs of precum all over your pretty lips to leave them all wet and glossy for him to admire. You wear him well, he thinks to himself. Rolling his eyes to the back of his head when you deftly poke your tongue out for him, he was right. You are thirsty, aren't you? Being stuck must be hard work, poor girl... He's more than happy enough to give you a little drink— ecstatic, even, at the prospect of having your cute pouty lips wrapped tight around his cock. Needs it, really. Now that you've gone and provoked his open book obsession by lolling your tongue out, drooling to the ground under you in a lewd display. You're just so attractive to him, his heart skipping a beat at the way your body begs for his unfair touch. He only means to help you, right?

He's only doing you a favour by dipping his tip to your tongue, exhaling sharply at the wetness that immediately greets him. This must be how Sam feels right now, yeah? Fingering slick from your cunt while Sebastian indulges in your spit. Letting you kitten lick at it for a bit, merely watching you with curiosity as your eyelashes flutter shut so prettily he has no choice but to fall to his knees in submission. Fuck, you're already making him feel so good. If he could keep your moth attached to his cock forever, he'd do so in a heartbeat. Warm, wet, and so skilled; fucked that tight throat enough times to train you into being his personal blowjob hole, huh? Seething to himself at the way you lap up all of the copious amounts of precum your tongue coaxes from his cock, eyes trained on the cute pout you soon adorn because Sam's found your sweet spot. Not surprising, given that he's usually deep in your cunt some way every weekend, but Sebastian reacts as he usually does. With a hushed curse under his breath, instinctively bringing a hand up to your lips to fish hook your mouth back open for him. Leaking pre at the feeling of your saliva coating his fingers, drool collecting down his wrist as your tongue once again pokes out for his own selfish enjoyment. Taught you well, didn't he?

It's just that you look so good with a mouth full of cock, don't you? Hovering above you, repositioning himself so that it's easier to glide his cock down your throat when Sam withdraws his fingers from your cunt, causing Sebastian to grown out of desperation when his friend starts to coat his own cock with your slick. He knows how slippery you can get, but the view he has of your face from above, adorned by an aware welling of tears from their unjust treatment of your wedged body right now, is something he'd rather be viewing. Something he'd rather be taking advantage of, pressing his fat tip to your wanting tongue just in time to feel you rush a gasp out against him when Sam ultimately pushes his cock into your tight heat from behind out of necessity. A natural conclusion to seeing you present your holes to them today, Sebastian too taking advantage of you by sinking himself deeper into your mouth, causing your moans from Sam's slow rutting into you to become muffled around his cock.

"Jus' cashing in a favour before setting you free, babe." Sam struggles to get out from behind you, and Sebastian lets you know he agrees by tauntingly tapping at your cheek a few times. More spit, baby.

And you take them both so well, like a well trained dog, or a practiced doll. Easily allowing them to use you to their hearts content, a seedy sordid type of affair as they both fill you up all at once, leaving you a mere object of their affections as you're forced to accept their spitroast. But you're such a champ, God, Sebastian shoving his cock as far as he can down your tight throat until you start to gag a little, sweet little sounds vibrating around his tip for him to shudder a breath at. And Sam, eager to get the party started as per usual, offers you a brief smack on the ass with a wide grin. His tone tense when he praises you with: "So good, tight fuckin' body just wants to be fucked, right?" before he starts a quick enough pace to leave even Sebastian a bit winded from the sudden stimulation provided by your soft tongue rocked back and forth his throbbing cock.

Not that Sam can be faulted, mind you. Sebastian, too, wants to start ruining you, two palms secure on your cheeks to keep your head situated in the right place for him to fuck your throat in. Bending his body towards the fence, leaning his head against the broken post for stability so that all you can see is his pelvis, nose pushed up against his pubes every time Sam greedily fucks you forward. Sebastian winces a little at your movements, knowing that the wood might be scraping against your tender frame with how selfish Sam's thrusts are, but he can't bring himself to say anything about it when your tongue snakes around his length so well, just the way he likes. A blessing and a curse, honestly. Drool collecting in your mouth for him to fuck into, completely coating his cock in all of your saliva, feeling some of it dribble down your chin to land on his balls when he starts to fuck your throat in tandem with Sam's humps. Which is so fucking hot by the way, fuck— how you're unable to contain yourself, dribbling all over him so nicely that his tummy flips with excitement. You deserve some more praise for indulging him, he thinks. For getting yourself stuck in the first place, as well as for servicing them so perfectly; but your tight throat leaves him gasping for air. Panting over the fence as he takes in the sight of Sam's determination too, greedy hands gripping harshly to your hips, brows knitting together in sheer focus of your tight angel cunt. And then, their eyes meet. Mid stroke together, matching each others speed and intensity flawlessly as you choke and sputter between them, bet your squishy thighs are trembling together too, huh? Your dainty hands attempting to find purchase in the ground below as Sebastian's balls repeatedly knock against your chin, tacky with spit as his fat cock cuts off your air supply.

And what's a little kiss shared amongst friends, right? It wouldn't be the first, and it sure as shit won't be the last from how enthusiastically Sam leans forward, tongue already wetting his lips before Sebastian meets him with heated arousal. Openly moaning down each others throats as soon as possible, listening intently to your wet little cunt suck Sam's cock off so well, and your muffled whines for more when Sebastian pulls your head closer to his crotch with every desperate fuck down your throat. You're so perfect for them, pretty pursed lips wrapped so nicely around his pulsing cock, one of his hands slipping to the back of your head in plain need to fuck deeper, to feel the way your throat closes around his dribbling tip as you're forced to drink up all his spilling precum; just like how he's made to swallow every drop of saliva Sam drips onto his tongue, less sharing a heated kiss and more so acting like dogs. Lips barely pressed together, tongues interlocked, delving into each others mouths without ever fully closing the kiss, resulting in drool pooling onto your exposed ass.

It's all a bit too much for Sebastian. To be doing something so lewd out in public— fuck, anyone could walk by, couldn't they? And maybe they already have, greeted to the sight of the towns cute little farmer getting fucking abused by her best friends fat cocks, watching the way Sam and himself encourage the other to continue degrading you on your own turf by way of the intense kiss they share, moaning, humping, hands slipping and cocks gliding; God that's so hot, isn't it?

Hot enough for his fingers to intertwine in your hair, tugging on it harshly as a warning for his approaching orgasm. Sam, too, slaps your ass again once pulling away from the kiss. A look of pure pleasure on his face, coated in a light sheen of spit for Sebastian to stare at with adoration. Both huffing and moaning above you, too lost in the satisfaction your pretty body provides them to give you the compliments you deserve, too busy making themselves feel good by fucking your tight little holes to verbalize their thanks, their appreciation.

But you understand, right? You know that as Sam gives you a final brutal fuck, resting his heavy balls against your sopping cunt, bullying his tip against your cervix as a fat load shoots out just for you, that he's saying thank you, right? And that when Sebastian shoves his cock right down your closing throat, ignoring the sweet sputters for air you choke around him, the way you flail around is so fucking hot, fuck, keep struggling to take him, baby, keeping your face flush against his pelvis so that he can properly reward you with his spilling seed to coat your throat all sticky, that he's saying thank you too, right? Both men heaving above and behind you, revelling in the feeling of your still needy body attempting to suckle them some more in hopes of reaching your own end, fuck, so good. Poor thing, they've neglected to appropriately tend to you in their rush to use you, haven't they?

But as Sam pulls out of your stretched hole, Sebastian follows. Hearts in his eyes at the way you immediately hack and cough towards the ground, drool still yet dripping from your pretty lips for him to smile lovingly at.

Not a word is shared, Sebastian content enough just to watch you struggle some more while Sam repositions himself to lay on the ground, face up towards your cunt as his arms wrap around your lower back, gently tugging you a bit closer to his nose for him to huff at your sweet cunt scent. Gross, isn't it? How the semen that sticks to your hole makes it smell all the better to him, dirty fucking pervert that he is.

A single lap at your slit is all it takes to have you moaning again, and for inspiration to strike Sebastian and his still rock hard cock.

Maybe he can have a shot of your cunt now, yeah? Or, maybe he'd like to shut you up again. Keep your cock holster mouth quiet so no one can find them forcefully misusing you. He does so love fucking that pretty mouth of yours, finding himself staring down at it again as you whimper oh so seductively for them.

They're only doing it to help you though, remember?

[moutainrusing]

netflix & NO chill

Writing a film script was frustratingly difficult, especially when you had to make it original and people-pleasing. Sirius paced the screenwriters’ tiny office (honestly, screenwriters deserved so much more space) agitatedly, almost on the verge of tearing out his precious hair.

“I can’t believe Netflix turned down our script!” James exclaimed, perfectly voicing Sirius’s own thoughts.

Remus sighed, brows furrowed as he worked on another script at his desk. “S’okay, we’ll make a better one.”

“Yeah,” Peter monotonously agreed, mindlessly spinning around on his swivel chair and staring at the ceiling.

“For fuck’s sake!” Remus slammed his pen on the table. “Sirius, would you quit the pacing? It’s stressing me out!”

Sirius rounded on Remus and glared, “Oh, I’m sorry, but I am fucking stressed!”

“Same,” Peter muttered, still spinning dejectedly.

James somehow managed to laugh at this. “Pete, mate, you look depressed, not stressed.”

“Oh, sod off, let me look how I want. And for the record, this is my stressed face.” Peter gave them all his most expressionless expression yet.

James cackled, “You’re so… awesome.” He smiled dopily at Peter, who gave him a judgemental look, the effect lessened by the smile threatening to tug his lips upward.

Sirius and Remus watched this interaction thoughtfully, then glanced at each other. Remus raised a brow. Sirius grinned, “I have an idea!”

Remus rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Oh, ‘course you’d say it’s your idea—”

“Rem and I have an idea!” Sirius quickly corrected.

“Ooh, tell me, tell me,” James eagerly leaned forward on his seat, while Peter demonstrated his complete lack of faith in his friends by keeping his eyes dully fixed on the ceiling.

“Drumroll, please!” Sirius announced grandly.

James, the good, admirable, supportive best mate that he was, immediately began drumming his hands on his thighs. Peter, the faithless, traitorous, unbelieving best mate that he was, resolutely ignored this. And Remus simply sat, staring at Sirius expectantly, as if he wasn’t a proper best mate and should therefore not be required to follow suit.

Sirius huffed, marched towards Remus, grabbed his wrists, and drummed his hands against the desk. Remus yelped, yet allowed his wrists to stay in Sirius’s grasp, so the feeling was really rather pleasant.

“Um, Sirius?” James asked. “We’ve been drumrolling for like five minutes now.”

“Oh! Right,” Sirius nodded, still holding Remus’s hands even after stopping. “Well,” he turned to face James and Peter, letting go of only one hand, which caused Remus to swivel around in his chair to also face them in the process. Remus ended up looking immensely disconcerted. Very adorable. Shit, Sirius was staring.

“Anyway!” He began, clearing his throat and looking at the space between James and Peter. “We should write about us!” He threw his hands into the air for show, although Remus’s hand was still in one, and Remus didn’t seem to want to raise his hand and wildly celebrate, which meant their arms sort of hung limply in between them.

Sirius glared at him. “Jazz hands.”

“Are lame,” Remus hummed aggravatingly, pulling Sirius’s arm down to swing it gently in between them. And then Sirius couldn’t be mad anymore, because Remus was so…

“So…” James blinked. He pointed between the two of them. “You wanna write a script about the two of you?”

Peter snapped his head up, clicked his tongue and pointed at Sirius. “You know, that would actually work! Like, we could write a romance between the two of you. And we could make it intimate and personal, because we just know—”

“What?!” Sirius cut him off, dropping Remus’s hand immediately. “That’s not— what?!”

“Uh, that’s not our idea,” Remus chuckled awkwardly. “Um, we meant, write about us four,” he pointed between the four of them.

Peter dropped his head back and grumbled something. James squinted slightly. “Well…” He glanced at Sirius. Sirius raised a brow. James sighed. He nodded, “Go ahead.”

Sirius grinned, excitedly gesticulating with his hands. “Okay, it’s the perfect story, see, our friendship is like this,” he crossed his forefinger over his middle and threw it up proudly. “We’re thick as thieves, we’re brothers, and we can make it funny. We got four characters we can flesh out to the audience, not too many, not too little. And we got the story of how we ended up brothers, even though we’re not related at all, and even though our actual families never wanted us to meet!”

Peter mumbled something like, “I’d be so concerned if you and Rem were actually brothers,” but Sirius stubbornly ignored this.

James seemed to grin at Peter slightly (betrayal), but then he turned to Sirius and carried on the train of thought with equal, unmatchable vigour, “We have angst! Sorry, mate, but like… we have you, the one raised to behave as if he’s superior to everyone, we have me, the one raised to treat everyone like equals except the people from ‘families like yours’, we have Remus, the one raised in complete isolation and who despised all people and thought he didn’t need anyone, and we have Peter, the one terrified of people ‘cause he was molly-coddled by his mother!”

“Mate—” Peter and Remus started. They glanced at each other, and nodded firmly.

“Mate,” Peter said again. “I mean…”

“It does work,” Remus grudgingly admitted.

“But.” Peter stated.

“Yeah. Those characters ain’t us,” Remus denied.

“Yeah. Those are some other characters, who would make quite a good script together,” Peter asserted.

“But they’re not us,” they insisted together.

“I didn’t despise all people, I just preferred a quiet life in a cottage with my parents, and I was a little, tiny, very miniscule bit offended when they carted me off to boarding school.”

Sirius bit back a grin. Remus was very cute. And a total antisocial freak. He couldn’t deny it, otherwise what would Sirius love him for? As a best mate, though.

“And I was not terrified of people, I was just a bit twitchy and shy, you can’t blame a guy for being nervous around new people. It was not because my mum molly-coddled me! She is very sweet and lovely, and always makes sure I never get hurt. I just wasn’t used to being somewhere without her.”

Sirius could not hold in his laugh at this. He and James toppled over each other laughing, somehow landing on the floor together. “He—” James wheezed, and Sirius nodded in agreement.

“They—” Sirius replied, and James cackled even harder, clapping Sirius on the back.

“I’m dying,” he coughed.

“Same,” Sirius croaked, still guffawing. Remus and Peter looked very unimpressed.

“Alright!” James finally swallowed his laughter. “You don’t see Sirius and I denying anything, do you?”

Sirius nodded. “See, we at least accept that we were obnoxiously spoilt brats, who realised how to be better through the power of—”

“F!”

“R!”

“I!”

“Shut up!” Peter yelled.

“We get it,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“But do you?” James pressed, eyes widened in comical concern as he leaned towards Remus. “Do you really? Can you say it?”

Remus gave him a dry look.

“I’ll give you a hint,” James whisper-yelled in mock secrecy.

“Friendship,” Sirius whisper-yelled, and he and James gave them a show of jazz hands. Sirius glanced at Remus. See, James does the jazz hands.

Remus scrunched his nose. Lame.

You’re lame.

Peter exhaled tiredly. “Guys,” he pointedly looked between Sirius and Remus.

James mumbled something under his breath, and Sirius frowned. “Huh?”

James leapt up panickedly. “Yeah? What? I didn’t say ‘quit eye-fucking’! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sirius glared at him, while Peter snorted. “Nice save, James.”

“Anyway,” Sirius said, not looking at Remus. “The characters can’t have our actual names, so we need different ones. Like… Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.”

“What?” James blinked.

“The names of the characters.”

“Those are some weird as fuck names,” Remus bluntly stated.

“Maybe they’re a work in progress?” Peter suggested.

“No,” Sirius began smiling maniacally. “They’re… interesting. People would love it. They’re… deeper than just nicknames. They represent the character.”

James pursed his lips. “Hmm… I see it. I think I know who they represent. Prongs is…?”

Sirius nodded.

“Huh,” James smiled. “I like it.”

“I still don’t see it,” Remus frowned. Peter had already given up, once again ignoring them for the ceiling.

Sirius again began excitedly gesticulating from his seat on the floor. “I’m calling the film ‘The Marauders’!”

“Why—” Remus started.

“Oh!” James interrupted. “Remember when Minnie thought we were making a personal attack on her when we stole — I mean borrowed — her sparkly highlighters? She called us a gang of troublesome marauders! Full of disrespect! She was so pissed, she loved those highlighters, never let the class use them. As an English teacher, I think she had a duty to give us the resources we needed, actually.”

Remus sighed. “She did; she gave us regular highlighters. You were just greedy. I honestly see her side of this.”

Sirius brushed him off with a hand. “Don’t act like you didn’t help us, M— Remus. Anyway, yes, P— James, that is where the name is from. It’s perfect. Eye-catching.”

“No, it’s—”

“You’re lame,” Sirius interrupted with a smirk, not even letting Remus finish.

Remus smiled. “And therefore I can recognise fellow lameness. ‘The Marauders’ is lame.”

Sirius shrugged. “I like lame things.” Remus. “Anyway! The Marauders, who are Moony, Wormy, Pads and Prongsie, are all roomed together, and are forced to share that room for all their boarding school years. It can go in two ways. They despise each other, or they become brothers!”

Peter looked up. “I think we need more themes. Friendship is a good one, and the boarding school setting, but viewers need more. We need the antagonist, some petty rivalry or disagreements, a smattering of romance, an aim…”

“Well,” Sirius continued, “That’s easy, just have a romance between Moony and Padfoot.” And then his brain caught up to his mouth and his eyes widened.

Peter smirked. “Oh, I think I know who these characters represent now.” James was just laughing. Remus looked thoroughly confused.

Sirius stared at him in shock. “Moo— shit, Remus—”

“I’m Moony?” He asked. “And you want the romance between me and… Padfoot?” He glanced around the room, looking for the person represented by ‘Padfoot’. James was still laughing uncontrollably. “Who’s Padfoot?” Remus finally asked.

“I— uh, well, I— me?” Sirius babbled.

Remus looked at him, shrugged, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s get to writing then.”

“I— what?” Sirius stared at him.

“What?” Remus repeated, looking up from his desk in confusion.

“So, you just— um, you— I— romance.”

Remus nodded slowly. “Sure. In the script.”

“Yes!” Sirius cried, leaping up to sit next to Remus. “Let’s write this script! Scene starts—”

“Woah, woah,” Remus said, plucking the pen from his fingers. “First we need to write out the plot.”

“Yes!” Sirius nodded.

James and Peter shared a glance. “You guys get started,” James said. “Pete and I are gonna take our coffee break.” Sirius looked at him in panic, threatening to kill him with his eyes, but James didn’t seem to notice as he and Peter slipped out of the room. And Sirius was left with Remus, who was perfectly casual while Sirius was having an internal meltdown.

Remus began planning, “In the beginning, Moony enters the dorm first, glancing at the four beds and scowling. Then Wormy enters, sees the ‘scary Moony’, and stumbles off to the farthest bed. Then Prongs enters, beaming and talking a mile a minute. Lastly, Padfoot, who joins in with Prongs’ conversation immediately.”

Sirius grinned. “Then they find out each other’s surnames, and immediately think they should be enemies. But then they figure it’s not that bad, and they won’t have to tell their parents anyway. Wormy shyly joins in their conversation, and although Moony wants to steadfastly ignore them, they pester him until he speaks.”

“When they begin lessons, sitting next to each other and chatting, other students notice the clear social divide, and make fun of them.”

“But that only makes them stronger friends. And then they mess around for the rest of the year.”

“That’s good,” Remus smiled. “Next year, they find out a little bit more about each other, especially their home lives, and they realise Padfoot’s isn’t as happy as everyone seems to believe. Basically, his parents are utter dickheads.”

Sirius flashed Remus a smirk. “Prongs also has this hero-complex where he thinks he needs to be ‘proper and gentlemanly’, and pursues this poor red-head called…”

“Doe.”

“Doe, who he thinks should be his ‘lady’. She hates it.”

“Wormy comes out of his shell a little bit more, but still feels a little over-shadowed, like he needs to impress everyone. He’s also a little homesick, as the only person he doesn’t feel like he has to impress is his mum. And he doesn’t understand the ‘romance’ stuff Prongs is now obsessed with.”

“And Moony,” Sirius looked at Remus. “Is still trying to distance himself from everyone. Padfoot only thinks this makes him more mysterious.”

“And that’s why he keeps pestering Moony?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. I see how you could make this romantic.”

“Yeah.” Sirius was leaning closer to Remus.

Remus turned, and suddenly their noses were brushing. Sirius snorted. “You have a big nose.”

“Sod off. I’m in the middle of learning how to like my nose.”

“I already like your nose.”

“Oh.”

“I like everything about you.”

“Are these… lines for the script?”

“Sure.” Sirius stared at Remus, noses still touching.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Remus laughed, closing his eyes.

“You always make me dizzy,” Sirius looked at Remus’s eyelashes, fluttering open like thin, silken threads, delicately brushing over his skin.

“These are some good lines.”

“Oh? Not lame, then?” Sirius honestly thought they were incredibly lame.

“They’re working too well for me to recognise their lameness.”

“Good.” And Sirius pressed his nose against Remus’s even more, and Remus was pressing back, and then… their lips brushed.

And then… their lips brushed more firmly. Then they stuck together, pressing against each other. Their eyes widened. And then slowly, they closed shut, while their lips did the opposite, and opened up, and warmth flooded between them in torrential rivers, fast and hot and overwhelming. It was like deep-sea vents, the currents bubbling with the scorching heat of volcanoes as they kept surging and flowing and streaming. Sirius was drowning, but he didn’t care, because he was only sinking closer to home, into the arms of his best mate, who was most definitely and decidedly not his brother.

He sighed into the skin connecting Remus’s neck to shoulder. “I don’t want the romance to be just between the characters.”

Remus wrapped his arms tighter around him. “Same.”

[demigodickrider]

indefinitely, forever ☆ okkotsu yuuta! [1/3]

okkotsu yuuta (post shibuya) x fem!reader click here for: part one | part two | part three - no spoilers from the manga, dwdw ;) - alternative universe where yuuta is an SCP? - [18+] three-part series, 10k+ words in total

(note: not proofread, expect grammar mistakes) warning: contains descriptions of blood, yuuta is a bit OOC/has that gojo satoru influence, romance, happy ending but contains slight angst and comfort, 2nd person pov, reader swears like a sailor

"Slacking off already?"

You scramble into standing at the authoritative tone. You could feel the heavy rush of blood creeping up on your face, and the hammering of your heart in your ears. It pounds almost painfully against your chest, lungs contracting and expanding fast; both out of fear and embarrassment, with the latter being more prominent across your lethargic features as you stared up at your supervisor.

Nanami leers down at you. Disappointment is etched all across his face, followed by a knowing sigh. "I expected better."

"S-Sorry, sir." You apologize profusely, bowing down. The bright red nametag dangles from your neck and you can't help but notice how your leather shoes had worn out a long time ago. "I must've dozed off somehow. It will not happen again."

"Might a coffee help?"

You raise your head to see a paper coffee cup offered to you, light steam still rising from within. While Nanami had been nothing but ridiculously strict from the start, he was considerate enough to check in on you every once in a while. You accepted the coffee in his stead with a smile.

"Thanks, boss. I'll keep watch."

The blonde man simply hums in response. He leaves as quickly as he came, leaving you alone to watch the hallways.  You see him walk down, turn a curve- and then he's out of your sight.

You lean back, the chair creaking as you did. Working as a security officer was more lackluster than you thought it would be; movies portrayed tales of saving and glory, but this was nothing like it. The hours were long and boring, lasting 12 in total. Every four hours you were required to fuck off your post and switch to another one down the hall. Sometimes you regretted signing the NDA that never once stated just how large the underground facility was, and just how much area coverage you'd have to keep watch single handedly.

Not to mention, the anomalies that lie within.

See, the Foundation had just three main jobs for you: Observe, Check-up and Report. The comically huge button was right next to you, shining in all of its glory and always just a stretch away in any case of a problem.

You flicked between CCTV channels. Some displayed the outer areas, hallways going beyond your line of sight and others within the confined cells of those you’re keeping watch about. Most of the anomalies here are kept in solitary confinement. You’ve had your fair share of jumpscares when an entity approached too close to the camera, slobbering all up against the lense; before your screen flickers and the anomaly returns to its restful state. Oftentimes it leaves a foggy residue and a prisoner would be assigned to clean it up.

And more than often, they die doing it.

But with a clean camera and one less burden on the face of Earth— who really gives a shit? Certainly not you. Certainly not when the pay was so damn good you spent it on a trip to Bali the first month you made bank. And certainly not for…

Is that a walking person?

You thrust forward in your seat, eyes glued onto the screen as if you could make his face out in any better resolution than the crappy screen could ever do you service. The choices linger in your head: should you approach or report? One choice would lead to the individual’s death and the other might just lead you to yours.

So you took the third option: to talk to them.

There’s a static in the speaker. You tap the mic briefly, earning the attention of the stranger. They stop mid-track, head turning up and staring almost right into your very eyes, as if they could see through you.

“Identify yourself, or you will be detained.”

Person puts both hands up. “My name’s Yuta.” The voice of a man, no doubt, but you kept your suspicions still. “I woke up in a room and the door was unlocked, so I left. Where am I?”

“What room?” Your tone sharpened in inquiry.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how I ended up here.”

“Identify yourself.” You repeat, customary of the protocol you learned before you started the job. Half of you thought of contacting Nanami; but it would risk him encountering the mysterious man. On the other hand, you couldn’t just let an unknown person roam around the facility. Much less: what if this person was an entity?

A shapeshifter of sorts, perhaps? You wouldn’t really know considering the fact that half the anomalies here are capable of human speech.

He stays silent for a while.

You repeat, “I said, identify yourself. I will give you 10 seconds to prove your humanity before I hand you over to the authorities.”

“Fuck.” Yuta mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Prove my humanity? A million thoughts ran through his head at once. Clearly, this place he had wandered into is nothing human-like. Rather, it's designed like a prison. He rummages through his pockets— nothing. All items that he brought with him prior to being caught had been confiscated. 

The countdown had started.

10

9

8

7

… “Wait,” He thought of an idea. “I can prove to you that I’m human. You can touch me. That’ll be enough, no?”

You sneer at his idea, “No physical contact.”

Yuta sighs, looking down at his uniform. At least he had his outfit intact, which means that they never intended to strip him bare at all. The man pursed his lips in a line, hands holding onto the clasp of his jacket.

6

5

4

3

2

1

… “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?!” You yell at him, dashing to the door. You were outside just in time before Yuta could fully undress himself. His hands stop fumbling with the belt of his pants. At a loss for words, you could only watch as he drops his shirt back over his body, leaving little to imagination. 

He cranes his head up at you with a knowing smile, “Have I now proven my humanity, ma’am?”

“Nudity is strictly prohibited in this facility!”

His eyes fold into crescents at the revelation, “I’m sorry. That was the only solution I could think of. Can you show me the way out?”

You folded your arms, “No.”

“I thought so. May I at least use the restroom?”

“No.”

Yuta’s eyes drift upwards, deep in thought. “If so, will I ever make it out of here?”

“That depends,” You answer, crossing your arms together. The taser strapped onto your belt felt heavy and dangerous— more than usual. Something about Yuta just didn’t feel right, and your gut instincts claw at you to run. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The man says nothing, merely watching every step you take as you head back into the control panel.

Your hand rests on the red button, eyes never wavering from the man that stood below you at a safe distance away. “Your choice, Yuta.”

“How must I prove myself then?”

“By showing me the anomaly that you are.”

His eyes visibly harden at your words, no longer having the glimmer that they once did. It was in the present that you felt it— the darkness that radiated off his very body, and the reason that this particular man had been wandering the halls of the facility unbothered. 

“An anomaly?”

“You’re not human.” You simply accuse.

“You might be right about that. But I choose to be human regardless of what I am.” 

You don’t care enough about his reasons. The way his dark eyes reflect absolutely nothing terrified you to the very core, more than any jumpscare you’ve encountered. The bright red button underneath you burns with such ferocity that it was only right to hit it— and send the foreign man back into the cell he once broke out of. You watch as soldiers dressed in hazmat suits flood into the hall at your call, almost always a millisecond away, their specialized guns pointed at the man.

But he did not flinch, not even once spared a gaze to look around him. He stayed his ground, only to be dragged away.

His eyes were trained on you, and only you.

“Did he hurt you?”

You’re now on break in the staffroom with Nanami and another supervisor named Maki, right after he heard of what happened. You shook your head, taking a sip of the fourth cup of coffee you had that day. The caffeine had long worn out its effects on your body that you just had to keep drinking, regardless of how detrimental it might just be to your health.

“Thankfully, no. What the fuck is a Keter class doing out there? How is he uncontained?”

“He broke out.” You turn your focus onto the coffee that had run cold, wedged between your fingers. You’ve always hated how fragile these paper cups were. It reminded you of how easy it was for these entities to crush humans to brine and bone with little to no mercy. Yet at the hands of Yuta, you were miraculously spared.

He was friendly, even.

“What kind of SCP is he?”

“He’s not an SCP. He’s a human host with an SCP living in him. Sometimes it appears, sometimes it doesn’t.” Maki shrugs.

“Damn, that’s cool.”

“He tells us that it was bound to him through love.”

You choked on your drink, splattering brown  everywhere on the table. Nanami sighs and pats your back. Maki looks at you in disgust, wiping the stains off her uniform with a handkerchief. You wanted to laugh. Out of all things, an SCP of love. You chuckle a little, smiling at your supervisor only to be met with a flat stare.

Oh.

“No way.”

“It’s true. The entity demands that no one lays a finger on him. Most times he can control the SCP. But when he’s hurt, it’s a different story entirely.”

“Wait, wait. So how did you guys manage to catch him?”

Maki recounts the details, “Apparently, he was a secret weapon in the military designed to decimate hundreds in one sweep. That SCP came to him naturally as a child, but it wasn’t his actions that got him caught.”

“So what did?”

“His superiors betrayed him and sent him over to us as they feared that he was getting too powerful for them to control.”

Oh. You started to feel a little bad for him now. But a memory crosses your mind and suddenly that sympathy is gone. 

“He almost stripped naked in front of me.”

“Huh?” Nanami was caught off-guard for once, both eyebrows raised instead of one.

“I asked him to prove his humanity.”

“And then he started stripping?” Maki had an equally confused look on her face. She pushes up the frame on her face before leaning forward, “Don’t tell me that you liked it.”

“I mean…”

“Seriously?”

You laugh sheepishly at her words, tossing the empty cup into the bin behind them in perfect accuracy. “I’m just kidding. At least I won’t have to meet him anymore. Can’t have him strip naked around me every time we cross paths.”

Nanami frowns at your words, “Be careful.”

“Sure, sure.” You wave goodbye to them and take your leave, heading towards your last shift of the day.

You found yourself in front of his cell.

Realization only hits you once you read the tag off the door, painted red and in bold: KETER CLASS. DO NOT ENGAGE. Unlike other cells, Keter cells had no windows to peek through. You could only rely on the CCTV back in the control panel room, but you found it unreliable considering how easy it was for Keters to destroy such puny little things. You take a step back.

"I really should stop drinking coffee." You mumble to yourself and turn away.

"Did you come to visit me?"

An all-too familiar voice echoed behind you, and you jump away instantaneously from the door. It's still intact. How he managed to hear you, you don't know. What you do know now is that you're standing in front of his cell.

"No."

"Is no the only word you know?"

Witty. You cough, "I heard about you."

"What about me?"  

You hesitate a little, "That you're not the anomaly."

"So now you know." There's curiosity in his tone, erasing any lethargy you had left in your body. Guilt paws at your heartstrings for doubting his reasons during the encounter earlier, but the man is still Keter class. It doesn't make him any less of a monster compared to others. The only difference between him and others is that he's placed in a jail befitting of lower ranked anomalies. "What else did you hear?"

"That you still pose as a threat to humanity."

"Am I a threat to you?"

"Yes." was your answer. You were here for money, not morality. While the notion that he would rot in his cell for the rest of his years was indeed a question of one, you weren't paid to stay idle and chitchat with an anomaly. You were expected even less: to simply cast morality aside and do as you were told by the Foundation. So you dusted yourself off and turned on your heels to move towards the next post you were supposedly assigned to. 

"I see. Well it was nice to know you..."

At the sound of your name, you freeze yet again.

"How do you know my name?"

"It's on your tag."

"How can you see me?"

Goosebumps prickle your skin all over. Your legs pick up the sudden skip in your heartbeat and in a flash, you start sprinting for your life. You were just in time, out of range as the metal door breaks open with a crash, sending debris everywhere. You were far enough to get hit, but the sound had been loud enough to garner attention from creatures all over the place. Hisses and banging scratched at your ears as you continued down the hall, the opposite direction of where safety should be. But it didn't really matter; people outside would have heard of it and safety would come for you any minute now.

You force a look over your shoulder to see an enormous white creature behind him, large grey claws extended and chillingly long arms draped around his frame resembling a protective stance. Behind the cages of muscle on her head lies a single eye, glaring right into your very soul. It's mouth move in ragged breaths, teeth sharper than its claws ready to bite. If you squint hard enough- the man with his pet monster was smiling at you. 

"You do know its rude to leave without saying goodbye, right?"

And like a predator, he started to chase you.

The entity lets out a bloodcurdling scream, getting on its arms and wriggling towards you. Now you're fully awake and drunk on adrenaline, sweat dripping down your body with how fast you were running. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Curses slew out of your lips as you ran even harder knowing how quickly he was catching up. You focused ahead instead; to the left is a dead end, you know that. And to the right is an even longer hall of agitated anomalies that most likely are on his level too. With a giant monster chasing after you however, were you really on the spot to give a shit about what would happen?

No. Anyone in your spot would've done the same.

It helped that your paycheck had been deposited earlier last week. You could really give less of a fuck about damage control.

Your feet started to hurt. "Fucking leather shoes." You grumble to yourself and skid a turn towards the elongated row of Keter-class anomalies. You pass multiple warning signs, the alarms going off. Eventually you see red all around you, shadows dancing on the walls as they approached even closer, slowing down just to taunt you. 

"Stop running."

"Then stop chasing me, you freak!"

"Well, the 'freak' has a name. It's Yuta." He closes the gap between the two of you, voice steady despite how fast he was chasing up. 

You paid him no mind as you duck underneath a warning sign and roll on your back to avoid a reaching arm from the screeching creature. Stubborn as you are, you notice an emergency exit and made mental note to stay close to it. You unclasp the taser off your belt just in time when a hand grabs your shoulder. You fire up the taser and jab right, but miss and eventually find yourself falling to the ground.

You made romantic contact with the floor, lips on the cold hard tile. "Shit!" You hiss from the pain and roll away just in time as Yuta was about to grasp a hold on you yet again.

Blood gushes from your split lip, and it tastes disgusting knowing that you just made love with the floor. Right before you could get up, though, you found yourself encaged within the palms of the alien-like SCP. Pain bursts through your nerves everywhere, feeling like knives stabbing deep into your gut. You could've swore you heard your ribs break from the amounting pressure.

"Caught you."

"Yuuuuuuta," The creature closes its janky fingers around your body, salivating as it eyed you from head to toe. The pressure around your body tightens and you felt like you could break just from how tight it was gripping you. Hair stuck to your face like a wet rag, leaving you with limited eyesight. "What should I do with herrrrrr?"

"Let.... Go... of me!" You rasp between breaths.

"Don't kill her. She'll be our lifeline, Rika."

Rika lets out a displeased grunt and sets you down on the ground, but has its hands still wrapped around you. Not as tight, but much like a warning that it could break you anytime it needed to. You catch your breath with a chain of fitful coughs, your legs and lungs burning from the marathon. Your chest heaves heavily, sore and most probably bruised. There's splitting pain from your lips, blood dripping onto the very same tile you shared your first kiss with.

You now see him eye-to-eye, close enough to notice his parted hair and sneakers. He couldn't be any younger than 20, but the eyebags that hung below his eyes tell a different story.

"I'm sorry. I need you as a hostage."

"Fuck you." You spat at him coldly.

Yuta kneels and presses a hand to your shoulder, forcing you to stop writhing under his touch. You try shoving his hand away, but the grip stays firm. Some fuck ass glowing magic flowed through his hand and loosened the soreness in your muscles, easing your tension. From your point of view, the man radiated like a glowstick. 

"Don't touch me!"

He locks his eyes with you, "I'm healing you."

"Would've been nice to not get hurt in the first place."

Yuta sucks a sharp breath in, "Look, I'm really sorry for hurting you. I just need to get out of here. You'll have to be my hostage."

You click your tongue in annoyance at his genuine apology, "You won't even make it out the front gate. They'll be all over you soon. You think the Foundation gives a shit about some security guard like me? They'll kill us both, dumbass."

"You're right." Yuta is clearly amused by your personality now that you're being treated as a partner-in-crime rather than a stranger. You stood stunned when his hand moves up and his thumb ghosts over your lips, "Don't worry, I'll get us out of here."

His thumb was cold against your lips. The action felt more intimate than you'd like, and it had you holding your breath.  It needed major balls not to flutter from the contact.

The bleeding stopped, prompting him to move his hand away.

The cold lingered a little longer than you'd like for it to be.

"Us? I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You will. Now that you're with me, they'll think you're complying with me. And if you won't, they'll imprison you." The bleeding stopped, and he wipes the remaining blood off on the side of his pants. 

You fall silent. What he said was roughly the truth. In reality, it would be even worse if you did get caught- not only will Nanami be under fire for the inability to protect you- but you might also be on trial under suspicion of letting Yuta escape. And such trials might just end in your death. All in all, its a lose-lose case; but you'd much rather be on the winning team.

"Damn you."

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

You raise your head to glare at the man who had just obnoxiously turned your own words against you. His eyes light up a little, seeing your reaction. "Your choice."

"Fine."

"What was that?"

"I said yes!" You retort, flipping the bird at him.

He flashes you a grin, "That might've been the first time you've said yes to me!"

Oh, how you wished for supernatural powers like his to decimate the teasing man on the spot. Your fists crumple to a close, keeping that rage preserved in the back of your head. One day you'd get your revenge on him.

"Rika. My katana please." Yuta caresses its face gently.

You could feel her giddiness from the shake of Rika's enclosed palm around you. She reaches up to her neck and pulls out a long blade from within, handing it over to him. "For youuuu, Yutaaa."

He takes it from her, swishing it in the air and stretching his limbs free. "Thanks. Lead the way, I'll keep you safe." There's shouting and stomping from a distance, the roaring of soldiers fending off escaped anomalies. Nanami and Maki are out there too, calling for you. Your heart sinks a little at the prospect of betraying them.

You huff, blowing hair out of your face.

"It's on the other side. Opposite of the way we ran in. But I need you to do me a favor and not kill everyone you see."

Yuta brightens up. The likelihood of him fighting against a large horde of people had him excited. "That's not something I can promise."

"Fine. Then at least spare Nanami and Maki."

"Who's that?" 

"Uh, guy with blonde hair and a woman with green hair."

He shrugs, “I’ll try.”

Deep down inside, you felt a part of you die.

----------------------------------------------------------------------> part 2

[ladyluscinia]

I have been turning over the question of how I would "fix" S2 - more conceptually than with intention at the moment - and more and more my conclusion is just scrap it entirely and go a different direction.

Like as much as I enjoyed 2x01 - 2x03 (maybe even 2x04 and 2x05, too) from an audience perspective (specifically as someone who enjoys darker content, toxic relationships, black humor, and the potential of generally fucked up plot beats) it kinda hinged a lot on my expectation that they were doing it with intent to deliver a satisfying story resolution in the end. I couldn't guess exactly how on the spot, but that's not really my problem as an audience member - I can just enjoy guessing along the journey until we get there.

Whereas looking back as a writer, struggling with the lack of resolution (successfully executed or even just projected), those episodes are just too many problems built into the foundation. I very rarely say this but I will agree with the antis that watching Edward go on a multi-phase apology tour to try and make amends to each character would be tonally a disaster to deal with and not particularly satisfying on a character level, either. I mean, I like Edward? I don't want his primary plotline being him getting kicked repeatedly and wallowing in guilt? But I also don't see a clean way to wrap up all that with perfunctory apologies and then behaving better in the future AND to sell any kind of found family, "these people will be celebrating at your wedding"-energy between Edward and the breakup boat crew. Not while treating any of them as mentally ok, at least.

Handwaving Frenchie's box is not actually funny at all if it's explicitly full of unaddressed traumatizing memories of a guy he works for / hangs out with on a daily basis?

I think I was right in my pre-S2 thinking that Kraken era needs to be predominantly violence directed toward people outside the crew, and while the remaining crew can be unhappy they probably shouldn't feel abused. I'm still not sure if Izzy's leg could be made to work with some context changes, but the offscreen additional toes lines definitely need to be struck out. Like, fucked up Kraken era could be interesting in more trauma focused fics that explored it as whump or darker adventure stories, but I don't think canon benefits from the harsh genre shift. Especially not if we want to keep forward movement for BlackBonnet as the main arc of the show.

There's just too much setup baggage on the route they chose, and I can't figure out a satisfying answer for what to do with it that doesn't require temporarily dropping the romance, the comedy, or both from this romcom 🤷‍♀️

Better to remove the problem at its source and just reimagine Kraken era entirely.