#they had more boxes and cans than produce

[ladysunbite]

Poor little witcher, poor little princess... content to hide in a wastleland, just to escape the grabbing, indifferent hands of those who would use her as the tool, deaf to the sound of her bones breaking and blind to her heart withering. They were at the very top of the wheel and the world was spread beneath them, like a feasting table. The sea of dead lights and looming buildings, the darkness scarce and sickly. Oh, Orianna would never have suspected she would miss the night, was she not a content creature of Beauclair where the streets were lavishly equipped with night fires, for the pleasure of its citizens, least one trip against the cobblestones of falls a prey to a thief? It turned out the cultured vampiress had never seen the true, devastating power of light before. The despicable, hollow thing robbing the colours of their freshness, mocking the very moon. And the architecture...why, the Nilfgardian embassy looked like a height of grace and taste, compared to the monstrosities that riddled the landscape like ballistas of some enormous, encroaching army. The sun-eyed turned to the little witcher, not a ghost of the contentious fold across the chiseled forehead. "The moving pictures theater was quite engaging. The count owns you now, my dear. He had been pestering me for weeks with his novelty device. Now I am tempted to join my forces with him, least we can produce something similar." the air seemed less thick up there, less burdened with of heavy noises and choking, unclean scents. Verily, that place was free of pestering magic, full of gullible prey for her lower kin, rich in miracles and... Orianna could not wait to be out of it. Be it even in a torture chamber, the odours would not be so appalling, the fires of Novigrad would not be as choking, and any battlefield seemed more full of hope and life than that place in the middle of a carnival, hiding behind paper masks from the slick fingers of doom and hollowness. That kiss...oh, if the little witcher knew the true nature of it. Surely, it was rude to try to entangle a soul in the sensualities, for something as small as feeding or as grand as for opening portals to other dimensions. But even more despicable was to use one as...the smelling salts. No wonder all the ghosts and the armies would stir clear of Cirilla's chosen hiding place. Less than a night of it, and a creature of her willpower and strength, a higher vampire, would be begging for a scent of a familiar sweat and skin, to fortify her. "And how does your dream feel like?" the chilling hand fluttered against Cirilla's back, as if shielding the fragile body from the sight of the one-eyed-moon, as if its very light could be infectious. The cabin moaned...and rocked back and forth under the gathering wind. Instinctively, the sun-eyed pressed closer, the arm wrapped around the little witcher's waits in a blink of an eye. The shrieks rose around them, but then gave way to a nervous ripple of laughter.

"Well, if you are not afraid of this flimsy apparatus, my darling. I am equally bold to try that treat," the vampiress gave out an unexisting breath of relief. The hand - strangely naked without the customary heavy jewels - released Ciri's waist and slipped into the box full of sticky pale bits, that hardly reminded of corn, despite its name. By the very tips of her fingers, the cultured vampiress picked up the roasted seed and put it inside her mouth. A part of her reveled at the novelity of it, the deadly curiosity of a scholar, eager to taste a poison. The sensation flooded Orianna's mouth. Her face changed, twisted, the freckles standing out like little sun-kisses. Only presently, they felt like little blooms of disease...the same that fed and bred the dry, despicable plant. "Hiss! " quickly, the cultured vampiress turned away, least her fangs - the taste was such she let her fangs out, as if she was a bruxa in her first frenzy! - made her happy companion uncomfortable.

@fallesto

She could feel the energy radiating from it, a pulse that resonated with the thrum of the city's lifeblood. The crowd grew denser around them, a wall of heat and sound, and she steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. “One moment.” With a nod, Ciri stepped onto the main stage, the boards groaning under the weight of the elaborate dress she'd chosen. She felt the eyes of the crowd upon her, a sea of faces that held no malice, no fear of the creature she truly was. The warmth of the spotlights bathed her in an artificial glow, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to bask in the applause that rolled over her. The scent of sweat and sweet treats mingled with the acrid tang of the city's air, creating a bouquet that was oddly comforting.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the podium, the prize a mere arm's length away. The emcee, a flamboyant man with a top hat and a smile as wide as the moon, announced her with a flourish. "And now, the grand prize for the most exquisitely dressed attendee goes to the ever-so-charming..." His eyes met hers, and his smile grew wider, "Ciri!" The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and claps.

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as she took the stage. She felt the eyes of the audience upon her, and for once, she didn't shrink away. Instead, she embraced the moment, her chin held high, her eyes gleaming with the fire of a witcher. The applause washed over her, a symphony of sound that seemed to resonate in her very soul.

The prize, a bouquet of paper flowers and sweets, was placed into her hands with a dramatic flourish. She offered a courteous smile to the emcee, who took her hand and twirled her around before releasing her into the applauding sea of faces. She saw the vampire as she watched from the shadows, her eyes shining with something that she couldn't quite decipher—pride, perhaps, or the shrewd calculation of a vampire assessing an asset. The little witcher felt the tug of the vampiress's power, the seductive promise of belonging, of being something more than what she had always been.

“No one will follow me here.” She smiled. “Not in a world like this.” This was too much for most people, this was a world vastly different from their own, the wild hunt, witches, monsters, would come here and would be crushed with how different it was, leaving a trace behind, was not a risk.

With the crowd still chanting her name, Ciri stepped into the embrace of the night. The Ferris wheel loomed before them, a giant eye winking in the neon lights. She took her arm, leading her through the throng of people, the tickets for the grand attraction clutched tightly in her hand. The wheel's metallic frame creaked and groaned as it spun, each car a tiny world of laughter and whispered secrets. The air grew thicker with the scent of grease and excitement as they approached the boarding platform.

“I always wanted to go onto one of these.” She commented. “Always a dream.” That was going to become true now, as she would smile and walk forward. “Popcorn.” She smiled. “Can you eat it, will it not harm you.” She wondered, she knew of vampires, lesser vampires, but higher vampires, well that was something else she knew little to nothing about in truth, but never the less, she held her arm and walked forward, so far, no issues, so far, everything has been wonderful.

As they take there seats, the door closed on them, as the machine powers on. Their ascent was slow, the carts swaying gently in the warm breeze. She watched the people shrink to ants below, the city a sprawling tapestry of light and shadow. The vampire at her side, remained silent, her gaze focused on the horizon where the full moon hovered, a silver sentinel over the revelry. The vampiress's hand was cool on her shoulder, a reminder of the unspoken bond forming between them. As the witcher leaned forward, as the metal carriage would rock back and forth.

“What do you think then, are you enjoying yourself.”

[gh-0-stcup]

Guarantee you Mary tried out all of the recipes on those "weirdest 70s dishes" lists.

[toxiccaves]

do you ever think about how they released a chogokin Gold Foot and not his brothers. I think about that a lot

Yes, always :^( Eagerly awaiting for the family reunion and all the boys to be released from prototype limbo

[nochepsicodelica]

"All those drinks are gonna do you dirty, ma. You're gonna throw up if you don't get some food in your system, so eat," Toji says, pushing the box closer to you.

You giggle at his serious face, before standing up from your chair for the fourth time, trying to go around him. Toji's used to this by now and stands up, bringing you back down to your chair.

"Stop getting up and eat your food. You literally begged for this. Why aren't you eating it?"

"Why aren't you eating it?" You return, raising your brows at him, seductively. It doesn't come off too sexy when raising your eyebrows makes you immediately squint because of the light going into your sensitive eyes, but it does lure a chuckle out of Toji.

"I'm ignoring that. Just eat. I don't wanna hear you upchucking in a couple hours."

"You won't hold my hair back?" You pout. Your feigned little flash of sadness produces real tears in this state, so it's a little confusing for Toji when you start giggling while wiping at your reddened cheeks.

"Your food's getting cold. I know how you are about reheating fast food, so eat it before it goes to waste."

You smile at him, your eyelids almost completely shut in your drunken daze. Toji can't even lie, it's cute. It's the only reason he's not up the wall about this little situation. Then you decide to drop a bomb on him.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Too tired to eat." You rest your chin on your palm, shutting your eyes. It feels nice. It would take less than thirty seconds for you to fall asleep.

Fuck. Think, think, think...

"Hey." Toji pokes your forehead, lightly, earning a hum and a furrow of your brows. "What if I feed you?"

You laugh, giddily. "Ooo, you trying to romance me?"

"Sure, if you eat."

You laugh again. "Toji, you dog, you. I'm not putting out." You shake your head, eyes closed with a dumb grin on your face. "No, sir. It's food and then goodnight for me."

"You already put out for me, earlier, doll." He smirks at the way you blush, clearly having an 'oh, yeah...' moment. "Eat some more so we can go to sleep."

"Hm?" You hum, rolling your eyes open after your blink of sleep. You crack a grin as soon as you look at Toji. "You wanna kiss me sooo bad. Look at you."

"I'm not gonna kiss you. You're not listening. You think you deserve kisses for that?"

"Uh... yes? I mean no. Pshhh, nooo. Of course, not."

"That's right. So eat, or you'll go to sleep without kisses, tonight."

"Noooo," you whine, dramatically. "Wait! Fine, fine. Look." You take a huge bite of your sandwich, your cheeks puffing up as you chew. "Oh, this is really good," you say, muffled by your mouthful of food.

"Don't choke, doll. Small bites are fine," he says, picking up a napkin and wiping the excess condiments off your face.

You push through it and gulp down the bite. "That was a lot. Got bread stuck on the roof of my mouth." You take a sip of your drink to wash it all down. "Did I look so pretty for the party, today?" You ask, your lips curling as you put the cup back down.

"You did, mama. Stunning. Swept everyone there, off their feet."

You smile, the gesture transitioning into a giggle. "Even Shiu?"

"Yup. Even Shiu said he wanted a piece of you."

You gasp. "No... Did you fight him?"

"Nah, I wanted to, but I kept my cool. If he had put his hands on you, then I might have, but I had my eye on you all night, to make sure nobody did more than look at you."

"I wouldn't have followed him anywhere, anyway." You roll your eyes, suddenly so hostile against the host of the party. "Probably would've kicked him in the nuts and gone to find you."

"Yeah, that's a smart idea, doll."

Toji's elaborate answers to your questions kept you awake long enough for you to mindlessly eat while he talked. You were at the end of the sandwich when you realized how much you had eaten and how full you were.

"Can't... do it..." You groan, lying on the arm you have extended on the table. "Too full." You sigh, heavily, setting the rest of the sandwich down on the scattered fries in its box.

"That's good, ma. You don't have to eat it, anymore. We can go to bed, now."

You let out another heavy sigh, sluggishness washing over you before you force yourself to stand up from your chair, this time with Toji's 'okay'. He looks at your little belly as it protrudes from your dress, proof of how full you actually are, and pokes at it. Your usually soft tummy is temporarily stiff and it's adorable.

You grab Toji's hand so that you don't stumble as you walk. Before leaving the table, he finished the remainder of your sandwich in one bite and threw out the container with the remaining cold fries.

"Damn, you were right, baby. That was good."

"Mhm," you mumble, waiting for him to lead you to the room.

Toji helped you brush your teeth and wash your face, and when you finally made it to the room, he helped you dress down into comfier clothes. Now, you're in bed together and you're in his arms trying to doze off, but you can't with the way he's smothering your face with kisses. It's just kiss after kiss with him and you can't focus, but It is what you wanted. After all, you stuffed your face for this.

[chronologicalimplosion]

[[Screenshot ID: A twitter thread by sjklapecwriting that says:

The fact that "AI = what makes NPCs in video games do things" and "AI = complex scientific models that have been in use for years" and "AI = non-generative tools that automate tedious processes" and "AI = generative tools" are all called AI feels like deliberate obfuscation.

I want good AI in video games but I also don't want AI in video games at all and I think AI is useful in the sciences but don't trust AI at all to be used in science or medicine or law and AI to colour-correct a video or remove greenscreen is cool but AI generating movies sucks.

We talk about things that threaten art and creativity and steal vast quantities of work from artists and burn the amazon and drain the seas to do it all with the same language as something that can track a part of a video so special effects are easier to make and that sucks.

And this obfuscation feels so deliberate to me, because now people freak out if someone talks about wanting to use "AI that learns from the player" or "an AI solution to help me edit video" or "an AI that can be used to generate theoretical materials to test" and they look silly.

Because now "AI" is so firmly wrapped up with the concept of "generative models" that people are, rightfully, on guard against any mention of AI whatsoever to the point where entirely distinct technologies get uselessly criticized under the same umbrella.

Like imagine if we had no other language but "tank" to describe motor vehicles, so if I said we needed "public transit vehicles" everyone thought I wanted M1A1 Abrams for civilian transit. That's what it's like talking about AI.

End ID]]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The one weird monopoly trick that gave us Walmart and Amazon and killed Main Street

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Walmart didn't just happen. The rise of Walmart – and Amazon, its online successor – was the result of a specific policy choice, the decision by the Reagan administration not to enforce a key antitrust law. Walmart may have been founded by Sam Walton, but its success (and the demise of the American Main Street) are down to Reaganomics.

The law that Reagan neutered? The Robinson-Patman Act, a very boring-sounding law that makes it illegal for powerful companies (like Walmart) to demand preferential pricing from their suppliers (farmers, packaged goods makers, meat producers, etc). The idea here is straightforward. A company like Walmart is a powerful buyer (a "monopsonist" – compare with "monopolist," a powerful seller). That means that they can demand deep discounts from suppliers. Smaller stores – the mom and pop store on your Main Street – don't have the clout to demand those discounts. Worse, because those buyers are weak, the sellers – packaged goods companies, agribusiness cartels, Big Meat – can actually charge them more to make up for the losses they're taking in selling below cost to Walmart.

Reagan ordered his antitrust cops to stop enforcing Robinson-Patman, which was a huge giveaway to big business. Of course, that's not how Reagan framed it: He called Robinson-Patman a declaration of "war on low prices," because it prevented big companies from using their buying power to squeeze huge discounts. Reagan's court sorcerers/economists asserted that if Walmart could get goods at lower prices, they would sell goods at lower prices.

Which was true…up to a point. Because preferential discounting (offering better discounts to bigger customers) creates a structural advantage over smaller businesses, it meant that big box stores would eventually eliminate virtually all of their smaller competitors. That's exactly what happened: downtowns withered, suburban big boxes grew. Spending that would have formerly stayed in the community was whisked away to corporate headquarters. These corporate HQs were inevitably located in "onshore-offshore" tax haven states, meaning they were barely taxed at the state level. That left plenty of money in these big companies' coffers to spend on funny accountants who'd help them avoid federal taxes, too. That's another structural advantage the big box stores had over the mom-and-pops: not only did they get their inventory at below-cost discounts, they didn't have to pay tax on the profits, either.

MBA programs actually teach this as a strategy to pursue: they usually refer to Amazon's "flywheel" where lower prices bring in more customers which allows them to demand even lower prices:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaSwWYemLek

You might have heard about rural and inner-city "food deserts," where all the independent grocery stores have shuttered, leaving behind nothing but dollar stores? These are the direct product of the decision not to enforce Robinson-Patman. Dollar stores target working class neighborhoods with functional, beloved local grocers. They open multiple dollar stores nearby (nearly all the dollar stores you see are owned by one of two conglomerates, no matter what the sign over the door says). They price goods below cost and pay for high levels of staffing, draining business off the community grocery store until it collapses. Then, all the dollar stores except one close and the remaining store fires most of its staff (working at a dollar store is incredibly dangerous, thanks to low staffing levels that make them easy targets for armed robbers). Then, they jack up prices, selling goods in "cheater" sizes that are smaller than the normal retail packaging, and which are only made available to large dollar store conglomerates:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/27/walmarts-jackals/#cheater-sizes

Writing in The American Prospect, Max M Miller and Bryce Tuttle1 – a current and a former staffer for FTC Commissioner Alvaro Bedoya – write about the long shadow cast by Reagan's decision to put Robinson-Patman in mothballs:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-08-13-stopping-excessive-market-power-monopoly/

They tell the story of Robinson-Patman's origins in 1936, when A&P was using preferential discounts to destroy the independent grocery sector and endanger the American food system. A&P didn't just demand preferential discounts from its suppliers; it also charged them a fortune to be displayed on its shelves, an early version of Amazon's $38b/year payola system:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

They point out that Robinson-Patman didn't really need to be enacted; America already had an antitrust law that banned this conduct: section 2 of the the Clayton Act, which was passed in 1914. But for decades, the US courts refused to interpret the Clayton Act according to its plain meaning, with judges tying themselves in knots to insist that the law couldn't possibly mean what it said. Robinson-Patman was one of a series of antitrust laws that Congress passed in a bid to explain in words so small even federal judges could understand them that the purpose of American antitrust law was to keep corporations weak:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

Both the Clayton Act and Robinson-Patman reject the argument that it's OK to let monopolies form and come to dominate critical sectors of the American economy based on the theoretical possibility that this will lead to lower prices. They reject this idea first as a legal matter. We don't let giant corporations victimize small businesses and their suppliers just because that might help someone else.

Beyond this, there's the realpolitik of monopoly. Yes, companies could pass lower costs on to customers, but will they? Look at Amazon: the company takes $0.45-$0.51 out of every dollar that its sellers earn, and requires them to offer their lowest price on Amazon. No one has a 45-51% margin, so every seller jacks up their prices on Amazon, but you don't notice it, because Amazon forces them to jack up prices everywhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

The Robinson-Patman Act did important work, and its absence led to many of the horribles we're living through today. This week on his Peoples & Things podcast, Lee Vinsel talked with Benjamin Waterhouse about his new book, One Day I’ll Work for Myself: The Dream and Delusion That Conquered America:

https://athenaeum.vt.domains/peoplesandthings/2024/08/12/78-benjamin-c-waterhouse-on-one-day-ill-work-for-myself-the-dream-and-delusion-that-conquered-america/

Towards the end of the discussion, Vinsel and Waterhouse turn to Robinson-Patman, its author, Wright Patman, and the politics of small business in America. They point out – correctly – that Wright Patman was something of a creep, a "Dixiecrat" (southern Democrat) who was either an ideological segregationist or someone who didn't mind supporting segregation irrespective of his beliefs.

That's a valid critique of Wright Patman, but it's got little bearing on the substance and history of the law that bears his name, the Robinson-Patman Act. Vinsel and Waterhouse get into that as well, and while they made some good points that I wholeheartedly agreed with, I fiercely disagree with the conclusion they drew from these points.

Vinsel and Waterhouse point out (again, correctly) that small businesses have a long history of supporting reactionary causes and attacking workers' rights – associations of small businesses, small women-owned business, and small minority-owned businesses were all in on opposition to minimum wages and other key labor causes.

But while this is all true, that doesn't make Robinson-Patman a reactionary law, or bad for workers. The point of protecting small businesses from the predatory practices of large firms is to maintain an American economy where business can't trump workers or government. Large companies are literally ungovernable: they have gigantic war-chests they can spend lobbying governments and corrupting the political process, and concentrated sectors find it comparatively easy to come together to decide on a single lobbying position and then make it reality.

As Vinsel and Waterhouse discuss, US big business has traditionally hated small business. They recount a notorious and telling anaecdote about the editor of the Chamber of Commerce magazine asking his boss if he could include coverage of small businesses, given the many small business owners who belonged to the Chamber, only to be told, "Over my dead body." Why did – why does – big business hate small business so much? Because small businesses wreck the game. If they are included in hearings, notices of inquiry, or just given a vote on what the Chamber of Commerce will lobby for with their membership dollars, they will ask for things that break with the big business lobbying consensus.

That's why we should like small business. Not because small business owners are incapable of being petty tyrants, but because whatever else, they will be petty. They won't be able to hire million-dollar-a-month union-busting law-firms, they won't be able to bribe Congress to pass favorable laws, they can't capture their regulators with juicy offers of sweet jobs after their government service ends.

Vinsel and Waterhouse point out that many large firms emerged during the era in which Robinson-Patman was in force, but that misunderstands the purpose of Robinson-Patman: it wasn't designed to prevent any large businesses from emerging. There are some capital-intensive sectors (say, chip fabrication) where the minimum size for doing anything is pretty damned big.

As Miller and Tuttle write:

The goal of RPA was not to create a permanent Jeffersonian agrarian republic of exclusively small businesses. It was to preserve a diverse economy of big and small businesses. Congress recognized that the needs of communities and people—whether in their role as consumers, business owners, or workers—are varied and diverse. A handful of large chains would never be able to meet all those needs in every community, especially if they are granted pricing power.

The fight against monopoly is only secondarily a fight between small businesses and giant ones. It's foundationally a fight about whether corporations should have so much power that they are too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/14/the-price-is-wright/#enforcement-priorities

[whisperofwonder]

Domesticity (Evening Edition)

―Just some small, random evening moments.

Featuring: Bokuto Koutarou, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Akaashi Keiji x reader

Note: you have a daughter in Sakusa's

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

You skim the shelf for a few moments, then reach for a familiar looking package. It seems like every time you shop, there are more new varieties. It makes it difficult to keep track. "These are the ones you liked, right?" You ask, giving the box of protein bars a slight shake. There's no answer.

"Kou?" You look around, but your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. You bite back a sigh and toss the box in the cart anyway. If he can't stick around long enough to choose, he'll get what he gets. Pushing the cart along, you glance down the next few aisles. There's still no sign of him. Where would he have even wandered off to?

Just as you reach for your phone to send him a text, you feel a hand come to rest on the small of your back, and Koutarou is leaning around you to deposit something in the cart.

"Where did you go?" You ask with a frown as he sneaks his arms around you, slipping his hands into the front pocket of your oversized Jackals hoodie. "Koutarou," You add sternly as you can feel the warm press of his hands through the soft material. "We're in public."

Despite your warning, he doesn't make any move to pull away. "Just went to grab some apples," He says, hanging his chin over your shoulder. "You said this morning that we needed more, and I realized we were already past the produce, so I went back to get some."

You should really stand your ground and pull away, but you can't help it. There's no one around you to see the sudden closeness, and he was right about the apples. The warm press of his chest against your back is familiar and reassuring.

"Thanks for remembering," You say softly instead, reaching up to rest your hand on his cheek for a few moments.

"'Course," He nuzzles his other cheek against yours.

"Alright," You finally say, stepping away after savoring the moment for just a little while longer. You can hear the sound of another shopper's cart turning the corner. "Let's finish up so we can get home."

"And cuddle before bed?" He asks hopefully.

You can't help but smile. "I don't see why not."

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

You've just pulled out a onesie and are reaching for a clean diaper when you hear Kiyoomi enter the room behind you. You'd spent the last 15 minutes tidying up your daughter's room while he gave her a bath.

You turn with a smile to greet them, and a snort of laughter sneaks out before you can stop it. Your husband's t-shirt is soaked from the chest up, and there are water droplets slipping from his curls. Your daughter is babbling happily from beneath the hood of her ducky towel, oblivious to the less-than-pleased expression on her father's face.

"Oh, wow. Miyu one, Daddy zero, huh?" You ask, successfully holding back any further laughter.

"I don't think you can win bath time." He hands her over to you and mops a few drops of water from his cheek with the towel he'd slung around his neck. You lay her down and start putting on her diaper.

"Maybe not," You agree with a twitch of your lips, "But from the looks of it, you can certainly lose." He opens his mouth, then closes it with a shake of his head.

"Well, she had fun, anyway." He finally says, the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Right?" He asks, expression softening as he leans over to give her pudgy cheek a gentle pinch. She grins up at him, showing off her two and a half teeth, and he rests his hand on the top of her still-damp, downy curls.

"You're such a little stinker," He adds in the softest tone, never mind your heart that already feels fit to burst. You snap the last button on the onesie, picking her up and pressing a kiss to her irresistibly soft, freshly-washed cheek. Between the warm bath and the evident fun she'd had playing in it, she's already half asleep.

"Someone's ready for bed," You croon, then turn to him. "Go ahead and get changed. I'll put her down and be right out."

"Okay," He hums, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Goodnight, sweetheart," He murmurs, "I love you so much." He turns his head just enough to give you a tender kiss before he pulls away. "I love you," He adds.

"I love you too," You say softly, taking just a moment to run a hand affectionately through his damp hair before turning to put your daughter to bed.

AKAASHI KEIJI

"My love," you're woken by a soft whisper and the gentle squeeze of a hand on your thigh. "We're home."

Blearily, you turn to see Keiji in the driver's seat, and realize the car is parked in the driveway. That's funny - the last thing you knew, you were just pulling onto the highway. He's looking at you so intently that you almost feel the need to duck your head.

"Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep," You eke out, rubbing your eyes in an effort to wake yourself up.

"It was a long day," He hums, the hand still resting on your thigh giving it another gentle squeeze. "So let's get inside and get to bed." It doesn't take much more prompting for you to follow him into the house.

You fight the warm sleepiness pulling at you long enough to change into your pajamas and brush your teeth, finally reaching for the covers when Keiji stops you. "Did you wash your face?" He asks, and you groan.

"I'll do it in the morning," You promise, turning down the covers.

"Come on," He says, reaching for your hand and gently guiding you back into the bathroom. "You'll feel better if you do it now. Here," He pats the closed toilet lid, and you obediently sink down onto it as he puts some of your cleanser on a cotton pad. His fingertips tilt your chin upwards, and you let your eyes slide closed as he begins swiping the soft pad across your face.

"Don't fall asleep," You hear him prompt as he works. You manage a hum to assure him that you won't, as relaxing as this is. Finally, you feel the press of lips on your forehead.

"All done," He says, and you open your eyes. The look on his face is so warm and gentle that something bubbles up in your chest.

"Thanks, Keiji," You say, tugging on his t-shirt until his lips meet yours. "Love you," You add against his lips.

"I love you too," He cups your cheek briefly with a soft smile. "Now, weren't you the one who was so eager to get to bed?"

You haven't forgotten. In mere moments, you're snuggled up against his chest under the covers. There's no place else you'd rather be.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Chapter 1

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 6

Bruce's eye twitched as he forced the well-worn grin on his face.

It was a subtle thing, one that Tim would have thought he had imagined if he didnt know better, but he did.

Across from the both of them was Vlad Masters, he was a tall man, taller than Tim but still shorter than Bruce, all of him screamed rich villian, that is other than the way the second Bruce made a comment off hand about the Gotham Knights football team.

It was then the cruel looking man melted away, and Vlad Masters devolved into a chattering 40 something that knows far too much about the Green Bay Packers.

"Oh if I could go back in time and see that touch down again I could die a happy man" Vlad said with a wistful looking smile on his face, eyes glazed over in memories before he seemed to snap out of it and shake his head, a light dusting of pink came across his cheeks, lighting up his papery skin.

"Ah...do please forgive me...I seem to have gotten a tad bit carried away..." Tim bit back a scoff as he leaned back into his chair, they had been talking for almost a full hour and nearly all of it was Vlad ranting.

Bruce let out a small chuckle that sounded fake even to Tim, "No worry Mister Masters! Perhaps next time the Knights go against the Packers we can share a box!"

Tim knew this was to help sell the whole 'Brucie' act, but he still couldn't keep the cringe on his face, "B? Um...the Knights are a minor leauge team they...ugh forget it." Rubbing at his eyes, Tim cut off the words that Masters looked ready to say, "What was it again that you asked for a meeting Mister Masters? Something about..."

Looking down to his tablet, Tim sent a check in timer, if Vlad was to strike it would be soon "some sort of collaboration? With your subsidiary Axion Labs?"

Masters seemed a little taken back from Tim's thinly vailed bluntness but pushed onward, "Of course, my dear employees at the labs have been working on an interesting new energy source! You see it's fully green and has a positive net energy production." He paused for a moment and a sneer like condescending grin got plastered on his face, "That is Mister Wayne, meaning it produces more energy then we put in it."

Bruce's eyes crinkled as his cheesy grin could only grew more, "Thank you! I was just about to ask, my dear boy Tim here is far better at understanding all that...wiggley wobbly science things!"

(Liar) Tim thought before sending Masters a bashful smile, "I know enough that what your saying is astounding to hear...why come to Wanye Enterprises with this?"

Masters grin was predatory as he spoke smoothly "Well~ Lex and I have a...bit of a history so I couldn't possibly be able to work this with him, Queen Industries are more biotechincal in nature, while WE is far more wide spread! Not only do you have a tech division, but also medical, defense and mechanical divisions!"

Things were clicking in Tims mind, Masters wanted to use WE to distribute, make them stake their own reputation for what Masters was peddling.

Bruce's persona was slipping slightly, his blue eyes steely as he looked Masters down, "We will need a working concept before we can press onward for anything else."

Masters kept the grin on for a second longer before it slipped, "Of course, I will go above that and even send my two top scientists here to demonstrate-"

He was cut off by a shrill ringing coming from Tim's tablet, making him wince as he rushed to imput the code for the check in timer, sending the man a small smile Tim spoke, "So sorry about that, I thought I put that on silent...but do look at the time Bruce, We have a meeting with Lucius in twenty minutes, did you get those slides done?"

Sending Bruce a sideways glance, Tim watched as the man stiffened but shook his head, "I did not. I am sorry Vladdie, but we will have to cut this short, I am sure you know how many meetings it takes to run a company...but please, do meet with Maddie my receptionist to schedule those scientists of yours to come over yes?"

Tim could have sworn he saw a blood vessel pop as Masters hissed a little before he gave a terse nod, "Of course...Maddie you said? Yes...I do think I will speak to her." The man seemed to calm rapidly at the name, and seemed to almost float out of the meeting room.

---

Bruce let his persona fall the same time his head fell into his hands, the heels of his palms rubbing at his eyes.

There was silence in the meeting room, he could hear Tim's fingers pattering against the tempered glass of his tablet, and the soft chatter of the office from the outside and the ever faint sound of wind whipping around the high rise tower.

Picking his head up, he looked to Tim, doing a few hand motions, "DO. BUG. SWEEP" Getting a nod in response, Bruce went over the meeting.

Something was definitely strange about Masters, he was only 48 and yet fully gray, his skin was waxy and looked translucent, deathly pale, he had a cain but didn't have a limp.

Not to mention a seemingly tense history with Lex Luthor, to the point he would seek out WE instead of Lex for his seemingly miracle energy source and-

"Clear B, not a bug in place. "

"Hn" Bruce grunted in response, trying to get his brain back on track.

The energy source was another thing that was sticking out to Bruce, it sounded far too good to be true, it broke the laws of physics to-

"Bruce? What do you think of him? Suspect or...?" Tim spoke again, and Bruce let out a small sigh, his deductions would have to wait till later.

"I think we will need to monitor him closely, I have Drs Fentons are his lead researchers..."

---

Scrunching up his face, Danny stuffed his face into his elbow before sneezing thrice, groaning for a moment before he straightened up, rubbing at his nose, the Halfa came over to the sink in the kitchen of the Diner.

It was his second day as an over night chef and he was honestly having fun? Like cooking is so much cooler when the food wasn't actively reanimated and trying to kill him.

The diner was at a new place, now it was on the old rail ways that ran through Park Row, or how the people that lived there called it Crime Alley.

He had been nervous at first, because he had felt the familiar shiver of entering another beings haunt, but thankfully the diner was stationed just out of the haunts bounds.

Biting back a little yawn, Danny flipped a page in Lunch Ladys, only to see the recipe shift and change, going from a tuna casserole to one for a classic chili.

Blinking a few times at the book, he sighed, "Well alright then." Taking note of the ingredients, Danny drummed his fingers in the book, it was obviously more than just a simple cook book, with it, you know, actually shifting and changing each page.

Shaking his head, Danny straightened up and stopped leaning over the counter, "So...Spooktastical Chili? No that sounds dumb...Cursed Cauldron Chili? Closer..." thinking out loud, Danny set a massive pot over the stove, flipping the flame on as he work shopped cheesy names for his new dish.

---

Jason had an itch.

The kind that just wouldn't go away no matter how hard you scratched at it.

The problem he couldn't get even a second of relief since the itch was in his chest, right dab in the middle.

Rubbing at it as he groaned, Jason rolled off his bed and stood, it was late, he had finished patrol an hour ago and he just...

Felt the itch to do something, to go see something that was just right out of reach.

Sighing as he stumbled around his room, grabbing discarded jeans and an old hoodie with the arms cut off, slipping them on as he left the small bedroom of the safe house.

Stopping in the tiny kitchen, Jason did his best Bat glare (tm) at the empty refrigerator, letting out a grumble as he slammed the door closed.

"Fuckin...shit." flipping the cabinet doors open he glared at the small tub of mostly empty peanut butter and sleeve of crackers that were clearly ripped into by a rat.

"Fuckity fuck fuck..." sure there were spices, so many spices, but he wanted to eat, not cook, Alfred had spoiled that feeling into him through many years.

Slamming them closed as well, Jason growled as he stomped over to his boots, toeing them on before he stormed out of his safe house, fumbling with his keys to lock it behind him.

And with that he set out on the Alley, letting his feet carry him through the streets, he waved at some of the friendlier working girls and boys, but kept walking.

It took a moment for him to realize where he was going, to that little mom and pop diner that closed years ago, they used to give him left overs when he was still one of the dirty street rats trying to live...

"Since fucking when did the lights in that place turn on?" Stopping outside of what he had thought was a clossed down diner, Jason squinted at the banner stretched above the doorway.

"Big C's diner? No...old guys name was like Tony, so ain't their kids that wanted to take over..."

Before Jason could stop himself, his hand was already around the door handle, and he was pulling it open.

[sirfrogsworth]

Hard & Soft: An Explanation of Light

I was watching a video from one of my favorite tech YouTubers, Mr. Whose the Boss. He was showing off some of his favorite tech and pulled out this tiny LED light.

And then he placed a diffuser on the front and said this...

"You can equip a softbox on the front which *massively* softens the light on your face."

Sorry, Arun.

No it doesn't.

I sometimes wish I could get a job as a YouTube lighting advisor. So many creators have to set up and use professional lighting but very few actually have an understanding of how their lighting works. And with just a little knowledge they could up their lighting game big time.

If nothing else, I could stop the plague of ring lights.

Ring lights are my nemesis.

*shakes fist at ring lights*

Arun repeated a classic myth. Diffusing a light does *not* make it softer. And despite the name, a softbox is fully capable of producing hard light. Especially if it is only the size of your granddad's wallet.

I'm afraid softboxes are a bit misnamed—much like how the tremolo system on a guitar is technically a vibrato mechanism. Tremolo is a fluctuation of volume, not pitch. Personally, I just stick to calling it a whammy bar because that is more fun anyway. And, like, what does "whammy" even mean in the context of a guitar? I'd rather call something by a nonsensical name than an inaccurate one, ya know?

What the hell was I saying?

SOFTBOXES!

They should probably be called "light homogenizers." Which is a mouthful, but more accurate.

Or, hear me out... WHAMMY BOXES.

Froggie Note: I am trying a color coding technique to help make the most important information stand out. Red means PAY ATTENTION and blue means "do your best to remember this." Let me know if this is helpful or annoying or if a different color combo is preferred.

Hard Light vs. Soft Light

Hard light is a less flattering light source that creates high contrast, sharp shadows, and accentuates texture.

Soft light is a more flattering light source that creates soft shadows and reduces texture like pores, blemishes, and wrinkles.

You can *only* get hard or soft light by changing the apparent size of a light source from the subject's point of view.

If you remember only three things about light, they should be...

Bright light = sharp photos, less noise Hard light = small light source Soft light = large light source

Now, it's important to remember that hard light is not *bad* and soft light is not *good*. In photography, the oft-used parlance "flattering" just refers to the rendering of facial features and blemishes. So you might use a more flattering lens to make sure faces do not distort or a more flattering light modifier to reduce wrinkles.

But there are situations where soft light can be very boring and hard light can be much more dynamic and interesting. But if you have someone who is insecure about their skin or has a lot of blemishes, you can mitigate that by making the light softer. But if you have someone with great skin and a lot of angular facial features, you might use a hard light to show that off.

Which of these do you prefer?

The one on the left was taken with a 7 foot diameter light source and is *very* soft. But the other had a 1 foot diameter and I think it is more dynamic and interesting.

You can also mix hard and soft light. And with something like a parabolic reflector or a beauty dish, you can even modify a light source to be hard and soft at the same time.

This technological terror of a light modifier is sort of like having 24 individual small lights around the edges but the entire surface of the reflector also acts as a single large light source.

And when it isn't atomizing Alderaan, it is taking photos like this...

This creates a falloff of light around the edges of her face, nose, and arms while also reducing the intensity of the shadows. Lenses with longer focal lengths prevent distortion of facial features but also flatten our faces. So a modifier like this can bring back dimensionality.

Neat!

Now I just need $8,000 to buy the Death Star light.

There are a ton of possibilities when it comes to modifying light sources, but most people typically want the main light on the subject to be in the realm of soft and use hard light sources as edge lights.

Also, everything is a spectrum and light is no different. There is a giant space in between hard and soft to play with. In fact, the hardest light possible would be cast on a subject floating in space.

And the softest light possible would be on a planet that has 100% cloud coverage that still allows sunlight to scatter through.

So, I have determined the surface of Venus to be the most flattering light in the universe.

Look at how dark and sharp that astronaut shadow is! And I'm sure Venusian photography would be quite popular if you wouldn't burst into flames.

On planet Earth, noon on a clear day would be the hardest light and a very overcast day would be the softest light.

How can the sun be both hard and soft light?

Well, the sun is quite large, but it is very small in the sky and very far away. It is the only thing humans can observe that is close to a "point" light source—the smallest light source possible that shines light equally in all directions.

But on an overcast day, sunlight scatters through all of the clouds and becomes a HUGE homogenous light source. The clouds become a singular giant light above us. And as you can see, the light is so soft the woman does not have a hint of shadow on her face. And shadows can draw attention to pores, wrinkles, blemishes, and other textures.

But wouldn't the smallest light source be a laser or something?

When photographers refer to a small light source we mean from the perspective of the subject being lit. This is referred to as apparent or angular size.

But you also have to account for the size of the area the light source can illuminate.

This is the area a laser can light up.

And this is the area the sun is able to cats cast light upon.

It doesn't matter if a laser is close or far away, it focuses light onto a very small area. But the sun lights up half the planet. So look at imagine the apparent size of the sun in the sky and compare its size to half of the Earth. In that relative circumstance, the sun is a super tiny light source.

And the sun becomes an even tinier light source on the moon because there is no atmosphere or clouds to scatter and enlarge it.

You can change the apparent size of a light source in two ways...

The physical dimensions of the light and the distance from the subject.

A light with small dimensions can be a large light source if it is close enough and if the subject is small enough. So a flashlight could be a large light source for an ant if that flashlight is directly next to said ant. But a flashlight could never be a large light source to a human.

However, we can enlarge small light sources with modifiers.

A modifier can be a softbox. It can be a piece of paper. A large poster board. A wall or a ceiling. Anything that changes the nature of a light source can be a modifier. But not all modifiers increase the size of a light source.

So, you can take that flashlight, shine it on a wall, and reflect the light to make a giant light source capable of producing softer light.

But what you cannot do is put diffusion material directly in front of a flashlight and make the light it produces softer.

When Arun put that diffuser on the front of that tiny light, he was not making the light any bigger. He was only making the light more diffused.

What does diffusion *actually* do?

Diffusion scatters light. It makes light bounce in all directions and keeps it from being focused. And while this is an important aspect to making a light source larger, it does not change the apparent size of a light source on its own.

Diffused light is homogenous.

A homogenous light source has the same intensity across its entire surface area. And that homogenization is the key to creating a better soft light source. It can *assist* in making a light source larger, but only if you know how to wield that diffusion properly.

When you shine a flashlight toward a wall, you increase the apparent size of the light source.

Fantastic! You now have a softer light. Mission accomplished.

But if you do not diffuse it, you will create a hotspot.

That bright hotspot will reflect more light than all of the other light reflecting off the wall. That reflected light has different intensities across its surface area and you end up creating TWO distinct light sources—one hard and one soft.

This can sometimes be desired if you want to create graduated light that falls off like I showed earlier. But if it is not controlled well with a specialized modifier a hotspot can cause more problems than benefits.

This can reveal unwanted texture, double shadows, cause harsh glare, and it may not achieve the desired amount of soft, flattering light you were hoping for.

However, if you diffuse the light from the flashlight before it hits the wall, the light will scatter and reflect off the wall more evenly. You will create a more *homogenous* light source that acts as a single entity of light.

Diffusion does reduce the overall intensity of the light, but that is usually a worthy trade off for the increased homogeny.

These pesky hotspots are actually a big problem with those cheap softboxes you can buy off Amazon.

Many of them do not have enough diffusion to create a single homogenous light source. So they end up with a hotspot that gives you that double light source effect.

I was able to fix this with my friend Katrina's softbox by adding a layer of tracing paper in front.

You can see the chip clip holding the tracing paper in place on the right side.

Photography is just problem solving all the way down.

A higher quality softbox will have a second layer of diffusion already built in to prevent this, so make sure the softbox has this feature before buying.

Or invest in a roll of tracing paper and some chip clips.

Softboxes are an ingenious light modifier when built properly. They take a small light, diffuse it, enlarge it, and then focus it toward your subject. It's essentially a paradox of scattered & focused light. And since all of the scattering only happens *inside* the softbox, it gives you great control over how that light hits your subject. And you can focus it even more by putting a grid on the front.

This keeps light from "spilling" off to the sides though it can reduce intensity a bit and create unusual looking catchlights in the eyes.

Whereas a cheap shoot-through umbrella kinda "shoots" scattered light all over the place and causes a ton of extra reflections off the walls and ceilings. That may end up giving you unwanted second, third, and fourth light sources contributing to your exposure.

You can see light hitting the left and right walls and the ceiling—those pesky photons are going everywhere! And while it is giving a soft, flattering result due to that umbrella being so freaking big, you have almost no control over the light and how it affects your background.

So, yes, a softbox can make a small light source bigger, but that doesn't always mean you will get "soft" light.

This softbox takes a 10 inch LED panel and creates a 12 inch light source. This is mostly a scam product.

The marketing says it makes the light softer.

And while that is *technically* true, I'm afraid people are going to be disappointed if they think this thing is going to dramatically soften their light. A small increase in surface area like that would only be dramatically different if you were lighting a little toy car or the hypothetical ant friend I mentioned earlier. Something the size of a person is not going to see a difference in softness. Not to mention you are going to decrease the power of your light by adding diffusion and have no softening benefits.

Photography gear companies love taking advantage of new photographers because the desire to buy more gear to improve the quality of photos is quite strong. This is jokingly referred to as G.A.S. or "Gear Acquisition Syndrome." And while there is absolutely gear you can buy to improve your photos (lights, lenses, tripods), knowledge trumps any piece of gear at any time.

So, no, this scam softbox will not make the light appreciably softer. The only way to make this light softer is to find a softbox that enlarges it more than 2 friggin' inches, bounce it off something larger, or bring it closer to the subject. Move your light as close as possible and you will enlarge its apparent size.

Or, conversely, you can move your light farther away to make it hard.

Meaning you can technically make a softbox a hardbox.

Seriously, can we just do the whammy box thing?

So, what have we learned?

Soft light is more flattering to skin and reduces texture and harsh shadows.

Hard light increases contrast, sharpens shadows, and highlights texture.

Neither is good or bad. Soft light can be boring. Hard light can be interesting. A mixture of the two often produces the best result.

The only way to make light softer is to enlarge the light source.

You can enlarge a light source by...

Increasing the physical dimensions with a modifier.

Moving the light closer.

Reflecting the light off a larger surface.

Diffusion alone does not make a light softer.

Diffusion makes a light source more homogenous by mitigating hotspots.

Softboxes create homogenous light that you can direct and focus.

A softbox can still produce hard light if it is really small or really far away.

We should call it a whammy box.

How can you use this knowledge?

Well, the first thing you can do is...

DON'T BUY A RING LIGHT.

YES, I AM RANTING ABOUT RING LIGHTS AGAIN!

That giant hole in the middle of your light is a great spot for extra light.

And as we just learned, a larger light source is softer. So unless you specifically need a ring light and know how to use it (facial close-ups, camera goes in the hole), you are better off getting the biggest light you can fit in your space.

Look at how much bigger this light is than if it were a ring light.

It's like all of these influencers are throwing perfectly good light into the garbage.

Sorry, let's try this again.

Once you avoid ring lights, how can you use this knowledge?

I know a lot of you reading this are not influencers or YouTubers or photographers. And you may be thinking all of this knowledge I just shoved in your dome is useless.

But here's the thing...

We all take photos.

And I think we all want our photos to look their best.

If you start thinking more about light when you take photos, I promise you will be able to improve their quality.

If you are taking a selfie, think about where you can go that has a larger light source. Perhaps you have a large window. Or you have a big overhead light or floor lamp that shines up into the ceiling.

I actually had this idea to create a mega light that could blend in with a house's decor, but secretly be a photography light for taking pictures of people and pets indoors at night.

Secret Photography Light Ingredients Cheap Floorlamp Dual Light Socket Adapter 9000 Lumen LED Bulbs

(Seriously, if you put that together, stick it in a corner, and turn it on when your kids or pets are playing, you will never have another blurry photo from inside your house unless they are going full zoomies.)

If you are outside on a sunny day, don't stand in direct sunlight.

Remember, THE SUN IS ACTUALLY SMALL, angularly speaking. Find a shady spot under a tree. Or put the sun behind you and face a big white wall so the reflected light smacks you in the face.

Walls are light sources!

The ground is a light source!

Remember that moon photo?

You were looking at the sharp shadow earlier because I drew your attention to the sun being a small light source.

But the surface of the moon... HUGE LIGHT SOURCE.

How do you think the front of that space suit is lit when the sun is behind him? Either Stanley Kubrick has a big reflector offscreen or the ground is a soft second light source.

If you can't make it to the moon, just wait to take that selfie on a cloudy day. I think overcast light is a little boring, but your skin will look buttery smooth without using those stupid Facetune apps.

You can also wait for good light. Sometimes sunset has some nice, soft directional light because it has more atmosphere to scatter, diffuse, and enlarge it.

If you are indoors, don't use direct flash on your phone. Never ever use direct flash if you can avoid it. But perhaps you are with friends and they all have phones too. Use one or more phones to bounce the flashlight off a nearby wall. Or open up a paper napkin and hold it just out of frame and shine light through it and diffuse it.

A piece of paper can even work!

Flashlight 3 feet away shining directly onto my face...

Flashlight shining through a piece of paper a few inches in front of it...

Flashlight shining through a piece of paper 2 feet away that is just out of frame...

I started with a small light source.

I then made the light source a little bigger with the paper, but the diffusion was too close and it created the dreaded hotspot of doom.

And then I made the light source as big as I could by moving the paper as close to my face as possible without being in the shot. This also gave the light more room to scatter and diffuse making it homogenous.

Froggie Tip: I was using a pretty powerful flashlight, so with a phone you might get better results *bouncing* the light off the paper rather than shining the light through the paper.

So, before you take a photo, just think about how you can make your light source bigger, brighter, and more homogenous and you might be surprised how much better you look.

ANYONE CAN DO THIS!

[jetii]

Theory of Attraction

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,975

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends/squadmates to lovers, virgin!Tech, Tech’s autism rizz, smut, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, squirting, Tech being a bit of a perv but can you blame him

Summary: It's no secret that Tech has been fascinated by you ever since you joined the team. He's spent months carefully crafting a plan in the hopes of someday asking you on a date, but it all goes out the window with the smallest push.

A/N: *slaps roof* you can fit so much smut inside this baby. That’s pretty much all this is, the feelings are a garnish.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

The heat is cloying, sticking to Tech’s skin in an unwelcome blanket where his armor doesn’t cover. Whisps of hair are plastered to his forehead, sweat dripping down the back of his neck and pooling into the collar of his blacks.

He’s uncomfortable and on edge, much preferring the cold of space to the sweltering heat and humidity of the planet that seems dead-set on torturing him.

Maybe that’s why his body is feeling the way it does. Why it’s so receptive to the image that’s right in front of him. Something so innocent, that no one around except for him is batting an eye.

You, your eyes closed in apparent pleasure, licking and sucking a bright red popsicle.

Tech isn’t sure precisely how long he’s been staring at you, but he knows exactly how much of the treat you’d started with and how little was left on the stick now as it disappeared again into your mouth.

Somewhere between finishing the repairs and watching Wrecker load their replenished rations and potable water onto the ship, you produced the collection of colorful popsicles and offered him one. You, Wrecker, and Omega had already devoured two each on the journey back, gushing over how refreshing they were when you breached the tree line and caught sight of them.

He’d nearly declined, not wanting to add syrupy stickiness to the laundry list of less-than-pleasant sensations he was currently experiencing, but a pout from your slightly swollen lips had him reaching into the box. He devoured his meiloorun-flavored popsicle in a few bites, ignoring the offended looks from the others at his method, and returned to his datapad to study up on the flora of the planet.

Or, he had tried to.

His datapad lies forgotten in his lap as he regards you with slightly shallow breaths falling from his lips. A line of red syrup drifts down your hand, and you slowly follow the trail with your tongue before it reaches your wrist.

His hand clenches on his knee, hoping no one else is noticing the way that his eyes darken at the sight of your tongue disappearing into your shining wet mouth. The popsicle is quick to follow it, drifting in and out between lips stained a very enticing shade of red. His mind is full of cotton as he swallows thickly, and he feels himself twitch in his jeans.

Of all the things to be his sexual awakening, this one has to be the most embarrassing.

Sex had simply never interested him before, at least not in a way that felt like this. He isn’t a stranger to the urges that came with being a healthy human male, and he took care of it himself the same as his brothers in the ‘fresher or in the cover of darkness in his bunk when the need arose. But the idea of being with another person hadn’t been top of mind, well, ever.

Between missions, recovering from said missions, endless repairs and modifications to the Marauder, and satisfying his insatiable thirst for knowledge, it hadn’t ever been a possibility worth spending time thinking about. He preferred to focus his efforts on things that were real and tangible.

He’d spent a lot of time lately thinking about you, however.

And even more time analyzing those thoughts in an effort to tease apart why he’s so distracted by you. Wondering where you are, what you’re thinking, feeling delighted whenever he receives new information about you. That had quickly led him down a path that turned into watching out for you specifically when you were in danger and looking for opportunities to help you when you weren’t.

Last week, you’d been stuck on a lift alone together, and he’d pretended to struggle with fixing it just to spend a few more minutes talking to you.

It’s embarrassing, it’s irrational, but he couldn’t stop it if he tried.

After weeks of deliberation, he’d resolved to set a plan into motion that would eventually lead to him asking you to dinner. Tech never did anything without thorough research and preparation. When the others went to sleep, he went through a long list of romantic holofilms, some less terrible than others, and imagined himself in the leading role.

He pictured himself saying the right things, knowing the right way to touch you to hold your interest. You’d talk over a nice meal about what you always talked about, hold hands on the walk back to the Marauder, and perhaps share a dry peck on the cheek before calling it a night. He thought he’d want to start slow.

The wooden stick nearly disappears completely between your red lips. His hand forms into a fist on his knee. Kark.

Slow went right out the window with the last of his sanity, evidently.

It takes a lot for Tech to admit when he’s wrong, but stars, was he wrong about this.

He replays that moment over in his head again. How your cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as you sucked the stick clean, trying to get every inch of the sweet syrup. He pictures you doing the same action but on your knees, his skin underneath your lips instead.

It’s late, or what passes as late when you’re traveling at light speed through the cosmos. He’s awake as he often is, back pressed into the pilot’s seat while the others are sound asleep in their bunks. But unlike the other nights where he’s alone, you’re there, nestled between his spread legs, your hands softly caressing the inside of his thighs.

You’re wearing that oversized shirt you always wear to sleep and nothing else but a pair of GAR-issued briefs, and he can see a flash of their damp center even from his position above you. Your pupils are blown with lust as you stare up at him through your lashes from where you kneel until they flutter closed when the head of his cock presses into your awaiting mouth.

“Ah, just like that,” he whispers through clenched teeth, his fingers twisting into the hair on the back of your head.

You let out an appreciative moan at the slight pull before sliding forward, sucking the remainder of him into your awaiting mouth. He can feel the press of his tip at the back of your throat as you swallow around him, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head at the movement. He casts his head back until it thumps against the headrest, breathing heavily to desperately stop himself from coming down your throat and ending it all so soon.

You seem to sense his desire and slow your motions to a crawl, leaning away to press kitten licks to his head. He holds your hair gently while keeping one hand tangled in it, his eyes searching your face as he continues watching you suck him off slowly and deliberately, moving up and down at your leisure. But when a hand reaches up to cup his balls, he pulls you off him with a wrenched gasp.

The motion entices you to stand and climb onto his lap, his hands welcoming you by grabbing two handfuls of your soft thighs just before they reach the flesh of your ass. You settle your weight on him, hands coming to wrap around his neck before your lips meet in a vicious and messy kiss.

Somewhere between the meeting of teeth and tongues, he helps you lift your shirt up and over your head, whipping it over his shoulder and the back of the chair without another thought. Your bare breasts heave directly in his line of sight, and he’s mesmerized by their shape and apparent softness. The birthmark above your right breast has always enticed him whenever he catches a glimpse of it, and he doesn’t think twice to bring his lips to it.

You eagerly press into his awaiting mouth as Tech dips his head to taste the skin of your chest. He spends special attention on your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks as he caresses your bare skin wherever he can reach. You moan, nearly trembling with his efforts while you mindlessly rut against him, just as drunk off the contact as he is. He can feel you practically drip onto him from where your clothed core rubs against him.

Tech moves a hand up to cup the side of your face, admiring the desperate expression he finds there.

“Please,” you beg with a wanton moan as your clit catches the tip of him, sending a shudder down your thighs.

Tech is nothing if not attentive, and he reacts quickly by lining himself up to your entrance, his thumb pushing aside your underwear to bare you to him.

There's a moment of delicious, almost painful waiting, and then he slowly lifts his hips to sink up into you. Your fingers latch onto his forearm - nails sinking into fabric and flesh. It feels incredible, almost dizzying as he stretches you out and fills you to the brim.

He can’t help but dig his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you lower yourself completely onto him. You turn your head slightly and suck his thumb into your mouth, the most incredible sounds escaping your lips as you wrap your lips around him and draw him in to lave your tongue along the digit.

You move yourself up and down torturously slow, but every time his tip nudges against that spot inside of you, you whimper. The motion makes your bare breasts brush against him, and he’s enticed to lean forward and run his tongue along your flesh, sweeter than any dessert —

“Tech, you’re staring.”

It takes everything in his power not to jump out of his skin, mouth snapping shut with a clack of his teeth to hide his surprised gasp. But Tech still startles slightly — only slightly — before his wide eyes are met with the sight of Echo in front of him.

There’s no mistaking the amused expression on his brother’s pale face as he watches Tech fumble to look anywhere except at the woman currently making an absolute mess of him.

Tech is far from the only one who looked at you, he knew that. But after months of traveling together, it became increasingly apparent that he’s the only one who remains flustered by your presence.

His brothers teased him endlessly over it, but Tech had never been bothered by their assumption of his affections, nor made any effort to deny them so long as they didn’t make you uncomfortable.

His interest in you is only natural, after all. A byproduct of forced extended proximity, your objectively admirable qualities, his lack of experience with women, and the way your mere presence seemed to ease the constant buzzing in his brain.

At least, that was the working theory.

Echo clears his throat, bringing Tech back into the present as he shifts to cross his arms over his chest, still clearly enjoying the situation.

“I was not,” he responds with a huff, adjusting his goggles.

The heat that’d already been traveling up his body from his loins diverts to flush his cheeks and ears with red. He’s suddenly grateful for the datapad in his lap — he’s already been caught, he doesn’t need to be caught like that as well.

The look Echo gives him makes him feel chided, but the clone is only struggling to hold back a smile, eyebrows raised. “Sure you weren’t.”

Desperate to escape the teasing — and there’d be no shortage of it once Echo reported back to the others — Tech jerks to his feet. He can feel eyes on him as he retreats, offering a rushed explanation about HVAC diagnostics, but he chooses to ignore them in favor of hurrying toward the cockpit.

Once inside, he throws himself into his chair and locks the doors behind him. His hand is drawing out his hard length from his jeans before the lock kicks in.

Tech can’t sleep, so he does the next best thing by heading to the cockpit, taking over Hunter’s watch with very little convincing. It's quiet there, and it gives him time alone to sort through his thoughts. Not that the ones that are currently racing through his mind are all that productive, but it's better than tossing and turning and waking everyone else.

He settles himself in the pilot's chair, the dim lights and steady thrum of the engine a welcome distraction from the constant replay of the previous day's events. His mind drifts back to the heat, the humidity, the way your hair fell over your shoulders and stuck to your neck with sweat.

And then his brain helpfully supplies the memory of your mouth, swollen and red from sucking on the popsicle, the way the liquid melted in the summer sun and dripped down your arm, and the way you chased it with your tongue.

He sinks lower into the pilot seat and groans, throwing his head back against the headrest and squeezing his eyes shut. This is becoming a problem, he thinks.

“Oh!”

His head shot up at the sound, snapping over to glance at the entrance to the cockpit as the door hisses closed.

You stand still, your hand slightly raised toward your mouth as you catch sight of him in his chair. Your eyes are wide in surprise as they meet his own. He can see even in the dim light that you'd just rolled out of bed, wisps of hair escaping your braid and sticking to your neck.

His eyes travel lower, and he nearly lets out a groan when he realizes you’re wearing the same shirt as you were in his fantasy, legs enticingly bare underneath its hem.

He must’ve been staring for a while because you start to fidget under his attention. Your fingers play with each other in front of your waist as you bite into your lower lip. He tries not to focus on the movement, but there’s something about the air between you that has him entranced by it.

“Sorry, I thought no one’d be in here,” you whisper. When he does nothing, his mind too distracted to form words, you move to turn back toward the door. “Goodnight, Tech —“

He has a split second to make a choice.

“Wait,” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “You can stay. If you would like to, that is. I don’t mind.”

“Um, alright.” You still look a little unsure, but you're soon sitting in front of his turned chair in the co-pilot’s seat.

When it comes to love, Tech is far from an expert. Unless you considered an encyclopedic knowledge of courtship rituals and human erogenous zones being an expert, which he does not. Particularly when the breadth of the information stored in his mind seems just beyond his reach every time he looks at you.

He has a feeling you won’t enjoy many of the techniques suggested in his reading, either, such as what one author referred to as “playing hard to get.” You don't seem like the type to entertain mind games, not that he was interested in playing that type of game with you anyway.

No, his approach is going to have to be different, and more importantly, genuine.

The problem is, the longer he thinks about how to approach you, the more his mind becomes overwhelmed by the prospect.

At some point, Tech realizes you've been sitting in silence while he monologues internally, and once again, his mouth opens before he can stop it.

“Are you alright?”

You look surprised, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the question or because he’s the one asking it. He doesn't exactly make a habit out of checking in on the others, figuring that they would tell him what’s on their mind if they wanted to, but he’s been watching you long enough that he can tell the look on your face is solemn. He doesn’t enjoy it.

“I…” you trail off when you meet his eyes, looking back down at the hands folded in your lap. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s stupid.”

“I sincerely doubt that. You are a very intelligent woman.”

His earnest, rapid-fire compliment seems to have caught you off guard, because when you turn to face him, you look bewildered.

He stammers to recover.

"I-I only mean that if you were thinking something that was bothering you, it would most likely be something important."

Your features softened. “Do you…ever wonder what will happen to us?”

The chair turns fully, your knees nearly brushing. You draw your legs up so they’re balancing on each armrest, elbows falling to brace yourself on them. You're looking at him now, and he once again is struggling to know what to say once you clarify, “What you’ll do after the fighting ends?”

Tech sets his datapad down on the console. When he looks into your eyes again, he can see them shining in the dim light, and it makes his heart feel heavy to see you look so lost.

Still, he can’t help but say it. The truth.

“We are clones. War is our purpose. There is no ‘after’ for us.”

Tech knows immediately it isn’t the right thing to say. You inhale sharply and quickly scrub your cheek. “But do you think about what it would be like if there was?”

He hesitates. He wants to say no, to tell you that the thought never crossed his mind, but that would be a lie. Tech has thought about it, at this point quite extensively.

He’s pictured a life outside of running from or into danger, one where Omega could actually be a kid and one where he and his brothers aren’t constantly looking over their shoulders. He’s pictured a home that isn’t a gunship or a lab balancing over a tumultuous ocean, a life that is simple and routine but no less rewarding.

But he’s afraid to say it, he realizes. Not just because it’s an illogical waste of time to consider the possibilities, but because now in every one of those pictures his mind has loosely constructed, you're there by his side.

You had already become part of his routine, your lives inexorably intertwined, and he didn’t want that to change. His ideal future is any future where you're together, whether it’s simply as teammates or friends or something more.

He isn’t sure how he’ll react if he divulges that to you, and you don't feel the same. He reminds himself that he wanted to start slow, his strong sexual attraction to you be damned.

The words are quiet when he finally speaks.

“Yes, I have.”

Your hand reaches out to take his, and the sensation of your bare skin warming his own sends something like a static shock to his system.

You've touched before — to swap tools, pull each other into the safety of cover, and that one time you fell asleep on his shoulder at dinner — but all of that had been through his gloves or armor. This was the first time he’d ever felt you.

It’s thrilling, he wants more of it, and he immediately understands why people get addicted to this sort of thing.

Tech’s hand turns, and he laces your fingers together before he can convince himself not to. When he catches your eye again, tearing his gaze away from where you're connected, you're smiling at him.

It’s small, a far cry from the ear-to-ear grin you wear when Wrecker says something to make you laugh, or when he dips the Marauder into a nosedive, but it still makes him feel warm.

“You deserve to have a life outside of war, Tech,” you say earnestly with a squeeze of your fingers. “You all do.”

“Thank you.” He scoots closer to the edge of his seat, toward your warmth and welcoming smile. Tech’s heart is in his throat, but if there was ever a time to tell you how he feels, it’s now.

“I—“

The door slides open, startling you both into letting go of each other’s hands. Wrecker stumbles into the room with an arm thrown up over his face, the other outstretched and waving wildly.

“Everybody decent?” he asks, then barks out a laugh at his own quip as he lowers his arm from his eyes.

You're both quick to scoot your chairs away from each other and stand, a flustered blush rising to your cheeks and an annoyed one rising to his. Tech opens his mouth to give his brother a piece of his mind, but you speak up first.

You clear your throat. "Yeah, um, I was just on my way out."

When he turns to you, your cheeks are flushed.

“Goodnight, Tech,” you mutter as you stand, avoiding his gaze. “Wrecker.”

You shove past Wrecker without another word, and the two watch you go before Wrecker turns back to Tech with a wide grin.

“Soo?” Wrecker asks, drawing out the question as he looks back and forth between the door and Tech, who has his hands braced on his hips.

Tech is silent for a beat, but when the tension gets too high, he throws his arms up. "So what?"

“What was that all about?” Wrecker gestures to the space you had just been occupying, his smile turning smug.

Tech scoffs and turns away, settling back into the pilot’s chair and picking up his datapad. “We were just talking,” he replies curtly over his shoulder. “Was there something you needed?”

“Aw c’mon, that’s it?” Wrecker whines. When he doesn’t get a response further, he heaves a sigh. “It’s my turn for watch.”

Weeks have gone by since your talk in the cockpit. The mission for Cid went off without a hitch, relatively speaking. You had your cover blown at the last minute, which led to an inevitable firefight and a hasty retreat. While some would consider it a failure, the group was optimistic. After all, you'd gotten the stolen cargo back and then some, and miraculously no one was hurt.

The generous sum of credits that greeted you on your return to Ord Mantell was split the usual way. Cid took more than her fair share before the chits hit the table, and what little amount was left was first pooled together in a fund for food, supplies, and repairs for the Marauder, then divvied up equally among the Batch. Your individual take-home pay was meager, but with the essentials taken care of, it was enough to keep paying your rent. For now.

As soon as the credits were pressed into your palm, you made yourself scarce, muttering something about needing a real shower and bed for once. Tech couldn’t blame you, though he was itching to speak to you again.

The group made their way to Cid’s arcade, Omega half hanging from Hunter’s arm as she fought sleep. Though none of you were eager to spend much time planetside, there was little else to do but wait for Cid to need you again. And if you were going to endure the city and its splendors, a drink was required.

An hour into Cid’s beer reserve, still full price and then some for the Batch, and you finally return. Freshly showered with a new set of clothes, you're easily the most put-together and rested any of them have looked in days. The tight shirt you chose rides up slightly when you wave a greeting, revealing a sliver of the skin of your abdomen. Tech quickly buries his nose in his datapad to avoid being caught staring again.

You settle into the empty stool beside him at the bar, and the others welcome you back. You seem relaxed, a stark difference from the somber mood you were in the last time Tech saw you, and he feels relieved to see you happy.

Still busying himself with his research, he slides over the glass of tsiraki in front of him in your direction. It's your drink of choice, one that he noticed you always seemed to prefer over the fruity mixed drinks Echo ordered for you.

“For you.”

He didn't have to look up to know you’re smiling at him, though he can feel his own lips tilt up when you speak. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I am always thinking of you,” he says, eyes still on his datapad.

A beat passes, and Tech realizes his mistake. His eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to meet yours. You're looking at him with slightly furrowed brows, lips parted in a quiet gasp.

He opens his mouth to correct himself, but nothing comes out to correct his accidental confession. One that he meant entirely, but perhaps could have timed better.

His face feels hot, and his mind is racing as he watches the expression on your face soften. You huff out a quiet laugh, closing your eyes and shaking your head as you reach for your glass. He watches you carefully, not wanting to look away for a second, as he struggles to process your reaction. Or lack thereof.

“Is something wrong?” Tech finally asks, setting down his datapad.

You take a long sip of your drink before setting it down and leaning your elbows against the bartop, turning to look at him. A soft smile pulls at your lips. “No, not at all. Don’t worry about it.”

Normally, he would press further. Leaving questions unanswered is never his strong suit unless he is sufficiently distracted. Like now, for example, when the sight of you licking your lips is far too enticing to let him focus on anything else.

If you notice he’s staring again, you don’t show it, choosing instead to throw back the final drink of your glass before setting it aside. You turn your body to face him fully, your knees brushing softly against his leg.

“Have you ever heard of five-blossom bread?”

“It is a pastry from your home planet, correct?” He asks, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at the sudden question. You nod. “I have only been once to Naboo, and we did not spend much time there to try the cuisine.”

You hum in affirmation, tilting your head at him. He feels as if you're searching for something in his gaze, and his mouth opens and closes as he thinks of something else to say. Fortunately, you speak up first.

“There’s a place not far from here that sells it. Wanna come with?”

You glance away from him awkwardly, but when you meet his eyes again, he can see the excitement in them. It does something to his heart that has him nodding before you could finish speaking.

You don’t talk about your time before the Batch much, but from what little he’d gleaned from you, you hold a fondness for your home that he simply doesn’t feel about Kamino. And it made you happy when you came across any memento of Naboo on your travels, something that never failed to make the rest of them feel happier as well.

“I know you have a sweet tooth. You’ll love it, I promise.” You beam up at him, and he returns your smile with a hesitant one of his own.

“That sounds agreeable. Do you want to leave now? If you are hungry, of course. Or we could wait until the morning, if that would be better—“

Tech is interrupted by your hand covering his on the table, and all thoughts of five-blossom pastries and Naboo leave his head immediately. The feeling of your touch is the only thing on his mind as he looks up to meet your eye.

“Let’s go now, Tech,” you say.

You stand and begin to make your way through the bar, passing by the others on their way out.

“Where’re you two off to?” Wrecker asks with a wide grin, eyes on where you’ve grabbed Tech’s hand to pull him along.

“Out,” you answer before Tech can open his mouth.

He glances over at you, eyebrows raised in surprise by your sharp reply. You tug him forward before anyone else can speak up, throwing a quick “catch you later!” over your shoulder as you quickly ascend the stairs and out into the evening air.

The sun has just started to set, and the streets are alive with the noise and bustle of the city. Tech keeps close to your side, trying his best to keep an eye on the people around you while simultaneously focusing on you. It isn’t as difficult as it sounds; you are a bright point among the chaos of the crowd.

He could have sworn that you were smiling wider, your steps lighter, the closer you got to your destination. It makes him happy too, even though he has no idea where you are headed.

Tech hadn’t considered the fact that you’re still holding his hand until the two of you are forced to stop at a crosswalk. You stand waiting for the signal to change, and he becomes very aware of how closely you’re pressed together.

After you cross the street, a thought suddenly occurs to him, and he stops abruptly, his arm tugging your back.

“Is this a date?” he asks, bewildered.

You turn around, and he can feel your fingers tense in his. He hopes he hasn't said the wrong thing, and the panic is short-lived when you start to smile.

“Do you want it to be?”

His mind is racing, but Tech manages a single word, surprising the both of you by the certainty in his voice, "Yes."

Your eyes are wide as they search his, and when you bite into your bottom lip, he can feel his cheeks heating up.

“If that is also your preference,” he adds quickly.

“It is, yeah,” you say with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “C’mon, it’s just ahead.”

He follows along after you, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. The bakery is a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment, but the smell coming from inside is delightful. The door jingles as you step inside, and the girl behind the counter looks up from the customer she’s helping with a startlingly friendly smile considering the city you’re in. You’re practically bouncing on your feet as you wait in line.

Tech glances over the baked goods in the display case, eyes catching on one that looks familiar. He points it out. "Are those the pastries you mentioned?"

You follow his gaze, a smile blooming on your face. "Those are! How did you guess?"

Tech feels his cheeks warm. "It’s not difficult to deduce. You seem quite excited by their presence."

"I can't help it. These things are the best; I'm telling you."

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a table by the window, a five-blossom bread garnished with syrup steaming on a plate between you. You take a bite, sighing happily as the taste washes over you. He smiles at your expression, and after a moment, you open your eyes again.

"Here, try some." You break off a piece and hold it out to him. He eyes it warily, not used to someone wanting to feed him, and takes it slowly between his teeth.

The taste is…not terrible.

"Well?"

"It is adequate, I suppose." He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, taking another bite. "Just say you love it."

"I am not going to lie to you."

You laugh, and Tech feels a surge of pride knowing he was the one who caused it, however unintentionally

"Alright, alright. I get it. Just know, I'm never letting you live this down. You're gonna have to find a way to make it up to me." You grin at him, a look of mischief in your eye, and he finds himself smiling back.

"I am sure I can think of something."

You finish the rest of your dessert quickly, and the two of you continue to talk as the night draws on. You tell him about Naboo and its many charms, the foods and people and sights. He tells you about the many other planets he has been to before you joined the squad, the differences and similarities. The conversation flows easily between you, and before he knows it, hours have passed, and the bakery is closing.

As you leave the bakery, you slip your hand back into his, and he marvels at the simple joy of the action.

The streets have cleared somewhat, and you're able to walk at a leisurely pace to your apartment. Tech insisted he escort you home, as the streets are not the safest place to be even for a trained mercenary. You had tried to convince him you would be fine, but when you saw the look in his eye, you agreed without further argument.

When you reach the entrance, he expects you to release his hand and step inside, but you pause.

"I had a great time tonight, Tech. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." He pauses. "Perhaps we could do this again sometime."

You smile. "I'd like that."

"As would I."

There’s a moment of quiet between you before Tech looks around awkwardly and takes a step back, dropping your hand. “…Well, goodbye.”

He turns to leave, but your hand on his arm stops him. "Tech.”

When he turns back, you're closer, looking up at him with a soft smile. Your fingers trail down his arm until they meet his. You squeeze gently before letting go, and his breath catches.

“Yes?"

“Generally, at the end of a date, it’s customary to kiss the other person goodnight."

Tech feels his face flush. He swallows hard, his voice slightly strained as he replies. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," you hum. Your gaze falls to his lips, and he finds himself unconsciously doing the same to yours.

"I did not want to presume—"

Your hands cup his cheeks, and then your lips are on his, soft and warm. The kiss is sweet, short and over far too soon, and when you pull away, his eyes flutter open, his breath leaving him in a rush.

"You weren't," you whisper. He watches your lips move, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Good. That is…good." He leans in to kiss you again, his hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you close. Your lips are soft and yielding beneath his, and when your tongue flicks against his lower lip, he gasps.

His mind is hazy, a pleasant fog clouding his thoughts. All he can think about is the way you feel in his arms, the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body. You kiss him with a passion he has never felt before, and he tries his best to match your fervor.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together. Your cheeks are flushed, and you look as dazed as he feels.

“You’re…you’re pretty good at that,” you say between breaths, chest heaving.

“Your positive feedback is noted,” he replies, just as winded, before adding, “and reciprocated. I’m pleased to know my research has paid off.”

You grin, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Research, huh?”

“Yes. Once I better understood my interest in you, I took it upon myself to learn more about the nature of romantic relationships and affection.” Tech adjusts his goggles. “It is a surprisingly fascinating subject with no shortage of material on the HoloNet.”

You tilt your head as your fingers trail along the back of his neck. The light scrape of your nails sends a shiver down his spine.

“What else have you learned?” you ask, voice soft.

“Many things I am eager to share with you,” he confesses, leaning closer and tightening his grip on your waist. You mirror his movements, your lips parting slightly.

“Did you know it is customary for alpha-bull Crolutes to have a harem of concubines in a breeding colony? They must constantly battle other Crolutes to maintain their status. It is fascinating they are able to sustain such a base culture given their female species’ proclivity for space travel.”

The words fall out of his mouth, and the sudden shift in mood has you snorting, your shoulders shaking with laughter.

He's confused, but he doesn't let it stop him from pressing on. "There was an entire subsection dedicated to the topic. I can send you the link if you'd like to read more about it."

You smile up at him, a look of fondness on your face, and shake your head. “Tech.”

You kiss him again, slower this time, and he can feel his heart skip a beat. You pull away after a moment, your lips ghosting over his.

“As interesting as that is, I was hoping for something a little more…tactile.”

He blinks, struggling to understand your meaning beneath the pleasant haze creeping over him. A litany of possible anecdotes crosses his mind before his train of thought is forcibly interrupted by the feeling of your fingers tapping against his chest plate. They drag downward, following the contours of his cuirass, and suddenly it clicks.

Just as you move to pull away, Tech follows, tightening his grip on your hips. He crowds you against the door, careful not to push too hard as his chest touches yours. With your hand trapped between you, his own travels upward to grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” he murmurs. “I am more than happy to provide a physical demonstration.”

When your lips meet again, Tech feels as though a switch has been flipped, his desire for you flaring bright and hot.

His kisses are no longer gentle and tentative but passionate and demanding. He wants to know what you taste like, how you will react if he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your parted lips. You moan, a low and needy sound that makes him ache.

Tech can feel his body responding to the physical stimulus, his cock already hard and straining against his pants. He groans into your mouth, grinding his hips against yours.

Your fingers clutch at his chest plate, pulling him closer as he explores your mouth with his tongue. He can feel you trembling beneath him, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He releases your chin to slide his hand up to cradle the back of your neck, angling your head so he can deepen the kiss.

Your leg lifts to wrap around his waist, and he eagerly grabs for it, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh. He uses his grip to hoist you further up, and you quickly get the hint, wrapping both legs around him until he fully supports your weight with his arm tucked underneath you.

The new position has your core flush against his, the heat of you obvious through your clothes. Your arms wrap around his neck as you continue exploring each other's mouths. Tech can feel you grinding against him, and he moans, hips bucking instinctively.

His withdraws his hand from your face to reach for the door panel, deftly deactivating the lock, and it slides open with an abrupt hiss. Gasping at the sudden loss of the barrier behind you, your body tenses against him. Tech quickly maneuvers his hand back underneath you to prevent you from falling backward through the threshold, and you let out a relieved laugh into his mouth that turns into a moan as he shifts you to grab two generous handfuls of your ass.

He carries you inside, and you fumble blindly with the control panel, struggling to close the door with his mouth attached to yours. When you’re finally successful, the door sliding shut behind him, he breaks from the kiss momentarily to look around the dimly lit room. “Where is—“

“Door on the left,” you say immediately between open-mouthed kisses on his neck. He nods, making his way to your bedroom as best as he can in the dark.

Just as he’s about to reach the door, teeth sink into his earlobe and tug. He lets out a gasp and stumbles, pressing you back up against the wall near the door as he involuntarily ruts into the juncture between your thighs. You let out a little laugh before he descends on your lips again, forcing them apart with his tongue.

The kisses become increasingly frantic and messy, and Tech finds it difficult to think. All he can focus on is the taste of you, the warmth of your skin, the way your legs tighten around his hips. His cock aches, desperate for relief, and his hips begin rocking steadily into your core.

He can feel you panting against his mouth, the heat of your breath driving him wild. His grip on your ass tightens, fingers digging into your soft flesh, and he groans, rutting against you harder.

You’re moaning now, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his armor. The sound makes his cock throb, and he grinds his hips against yours, chasing the sensation.

Tech wants to see you, needs to see you, but he can't bring himself to pull away from the kiss. Your lips are so soft, so warm, and the way you whimper and cling to him sends shivers down his spine.

You suddenly wiggle out of his hold with a nip to his lower lip, and his hands fall to his sides. He can't help the noise of protest that escapes him as you back away into the dark bedroom, but before he can do anything else, your fingers dig into the lip of his cuirass and tug him after you. He follows your lead, hands roaming over your waist and hips as he backs you toward the bed.

Your hands drift toward the fastenings of his chest plate, and his heart rate accelerates, pulse thudding loudly in his ears.

“Can I take this off?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

He nods.

You make quick work of the clasps, removing his cuirass and tossing it aside. Together, you remove his armor piece by piece until he’s standing in just his blacks and jeans.

When his holster is removed, you drop to your knees before him, fingers moving to the clasp of his pants, and he nearly chokes as he’s reminded of the fantasy he’s been tormented by for weeks.

"Oh, Force.”

The button pops, and the zipper is tugged down agonizingly slowly. You lean forward and mouth his length through the material of his briefs, and his knees go weak. You look up at him, pupils blown wide with desire.

Tech can’t tear his gaze away.

With trembling fingers, he pushes his pants and briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. He has to resist the urge to touch himself, to fist his aching length and seek relief. Your breath hitches at the sight, your eyes raking over his body.

"Stars, Tech, you're big."

His cheeks burn, and his heart is pounding in his ears. You run your hands up his thighs, and his cock twitches, straining toward your touch.

Tech has never been particularly interested in his size, but the way you said it makes him feel like the most desirable man in the galaxy. Your words and the expression on your face has his ego skyrocketing, his chest puffing out with pride before he sucks in a sudden sharp breath.

Your breath is hot against his tip, your lips so close he can feel them brush against the sensitive skin. He’s aching, the urge to thrust his hips and bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming. But then, your mouth is on him, and his mind goes blank.

The wet heat of your mouth is incredible, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock and flicking across the slit. Your hands come up to rest on his hips, fingers digging into his skin, and you take him deeper, swallowing around him until he feels the back of your throat.

Tech moans, his eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back. His hips rock forward instinctively, and you make a noise in the back of your throat, one of your hands coming up to rest on his stomach.

He looks down at you, his hand cupping your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek. Your eyes are closed, tears leaking from the corners, and your lips stretch around his girth. He’s mesmerized, his fingers brushing over your features.

You open your eyes and look up at him, and the sight of you is nearly enough to undo him. He bites back a groan, his grip on your tightening.

Tech has never seen anything so beautiful.

"You are so lovely." He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, and you hum around his cock, sending vibrations through his body. "I have dreamt of this moment, of having your perfect mouth wrapped around me. The reality is even better than I could have imagined."

You swallow around him again, and he shudders, his hips rocking involuntarily.

"You look exquisite on your knees, taking my cock. So perfect. So eager."

A whimper escapes you, and he moans, his hips snapping forward. He’s careful not to go too deep, but the sensation of your throat constricting around him is divine.

Your pace quickens, and you bob your head, taking him deeper each time. He’s so close, his cock pulsing and throbbing.

"That's it. Take it. Take it all."

Your lips stretch obscenely around him, and he can feel the tip hitting the back of your throat. He’s lost, consumed by the pleasure, his words pouring out of him. "You look so beautiful like this. Taking my cock, letting me fuck your mouth. Such a good girl."

You whimper, your hands sliding from his hips to cup his balls, rolling them gently between your fingers. His orgasm is building, a tingling sensation at the base of his spine, and his hips begin to stutter.

"Fuck, mesh'la, I'm close. I'm going to cum. Stars, yes, I'm—"

With one last thrust, his vision whites out, and he’s cumming, cock pulsing relentlessly as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow every drop, licking him clean as he comes down from his high.

When he finally pulls out, you gasp for breath, cheeks flushed. Tech is breathing heavily, his legs shaking, and he collapses onto the bed next to you, his head spinning.

"Force, that was…" He trails off, unable to find the right words. You grin, a sly look in your eye, and he knows that you know exactly what you've done to him.

Tech can still feel the buzz of his orgasm lingering, the tingle in his limbs making his toes curl. His eyes are half-closed, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

"Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted to do that?" you ask, crawling up the bed and draping yourself over his side.

He blinks, surprised by the admission. "No. But I must say, I am extremely pleased you did."

You giggle, and his arm wraps around you. He pulls you close, relishing the feel of your body against his.

"That was…incredible."

"Mmm, I'm glad you liked it." You press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He sighs happily. "More than liked. It was a singular experience. One that I would be interested in repeating." He sits up, leaning over you. “But first, I wish to return the favor."

He kisses you, slow and deep. His hand slides up your body, caressing your curves. Your breasts are soft under his palms, and he feels you arch into his touch. Tech teases your nipple through your shirt, his tongue exploring your mouth. You pant into the kiss, your hands roaming over his bare chest.

Tech wants you naked, your skin against his.

He breaks the kiss, sitting up. "May I undress you?"

You nod, and he lifts the hem of your shirt, exposing your bare torso. His eyes travel over your body, drinking in every detail.

"Beautiful." He murmurs, fingers tracing the swell of your breast. You shiver at the touch, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. He drags his lips down your chest, peppering your skin with soft kisses. Your breasts are heavy in his hands, and he can feel your heartbeat racing under his tongue before his head dips lower.

His teeth tug at your nipple, and you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Please."

Tech sucks hard, and you moan, your legs spreading beneath him. He continues his exploration, moving to the valley between your breasts. He trails his tongue down your stomach, his hands tugging at the waistband of your pants.

"Take these off."

He hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls them down. You lift your hips, helping him remove the garment, leaving you bare save for your underwear.

Your skin is smooth and warm beneath his touch. Tech can feel your thighs trembling, your body arching toward him. He traces your hip bones, dipping his tongue into your navel, and you gasp.

"Tech…"

"Patience, cyar'ika. I promise, you will not regret the wait."

He drags his tongue over the apex of your thigh, teasing you with the barest of touches. You whimper, and he feels your legs spread even wider. He moves lower, tracing the seam of your pussy with his finger. You're soaked, your arousal seeping through the fabric of your panties, and the sight of it makes his mouth water.

“Tech, wait—“ He pauses immediately, though his fingers don’t leave you.

“Yes?”

“Have you…done this before?”

He tilts his head. “Intercourse?”

You sigh. “Yes, Tech.”

His brow furrows. He had not. Was that a problem?

“I am admittedly inexperienced in this area,” he says, eyes flicking downward toward the dampened crotch of your underwear and back up. He can feel saliva pooling in his mouth, and he swallows against it. “But I assure you I am a quick study.”

You reach out and run your fingers through his hair, pushing the unruly locks back off his forehead. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing.

"That's not what I meant. I just don't want you to feel obligated. If you aren't ready, we can stop."

“Understood,” he nods, pausing pensively to thank you before his thumbs smooth over your stomach. “Though I doubt I will wish to stop until I have had my fill of you. Lift your hips, mesh’la.”

After a second’s hesitation, you comply with his request, and he drags your underwear down your legs before tossing it aside. His hand is on you in an instant, middle finger gently exploring your slick folds before he dips it inside. He’s pleased to note that your anatomy doesn’t differ much from his research as he gathers the slick weeping from your entrance and swipes upward to catch the bundle of nerves above it.

You let out a soft cry and arch against him, your legs trembling. Tech grins, a thrill shooting through him.

"Is that good?"

"Yes, oh stars, yes." You pant, your hips rocking against his hand.

He continues to move his fingers, exploring your body, watching your reactions. You're so wet, your juices dripping down his hand. His thumb replaces his finger on your clit, rubbing gentle circles while he drags his finger down to your entrance.

He breaches you slowly, searching for the spot he had read about on your upper wall. When he feels a texture different from the softness surrounding it, he presses upward, and he’s rewarded with a loud whimper.

Chasing your noises, he begins to create a rhythm, drawing in and out and focusing on your core with rapt attention. He marvels at the way wetness seeps from your slit, dampening your thighs and his hand, at the sounds you make, at the way you arch into his touch.

He moves his free hand to press down on your lower stomach just as he adds a second finger, earning him a loud moan. Your hips begin to writhe with the motion of his thrusting fingers, wetness squelching lewdly.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out between panted breaths, your eyes locked on where his fingers are disappearing inside you.

“I have not,” he says. “But I admit I have thought about you in this position many times.”

You wail as he increases his pace, lowering himself onto his stomach so he can watch your impending orgasm up close. “That’s it, mesh’la. Cum on my fingers."

You shudder, your hands fisting in the sheets, and Tech can feel your walls clenching around his digits. His own arousal is steadily increasing, his cock filling out against the bed as he imagines how it would feel to fuck you.

Your climax hits you hard, your hips lifting off the bed and thighs pressing tightly around his hand. You let out a wordless scream, your body writhing in ecstasy.

Tech watches with wonder, his cock throbbing as a flood of release escapes you, soaking his fingers and the inside of your thighs. He doesn’t let up in his thrusting, eager to see how much he can wring from you.

“Tech—“

He groans at the breathless way you say his name, pressing harder onto your stomach as his thumb nudges underneath the hood of your clit. A choked sob leaves you under the squelching of his fingers deep in your cunt.

Suddenly, you arch and shake with a scream, and a flood of liquid squirts from you, splashing onto his goggles and dripping onto his nose and mouth. He blinks, stunned. It takes everything he has in him to not cum the instant you soak his face.

"Fuck! Oh stars, Tech, I'm sorry."

You sit up, a mortified expression on your face. Tech licks his lips, the taste of you flooding his mouth. He can't hold back the moan that escapes him, his cock aching to bury itself inside of you.

"You have nothing to apologize for. That was...extremely arousing," he says, pulling his fingers from you, though not without marveling at the way the inside of your walls grips him as he pulls out completely, as if they wanted him to stay.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he replies before wiping the lower half of his face. He lifts his goggles onto his head, unable to stop the smug smile from forming as he watches your heaving chest.

“I’ve never done that before,” you say, blushing furiously. Your hand comes up to cover your eyes as he licks his fingers clean, sucking them into his mouth to collect the remains of your release.

“I am honored to have been present for such a spectacle. You are quite extraordinary, you know."

You peek through your fingers, and Tech can see the smile curling your lips. "Flatterer."

“I wonder if you could do that again. Would you like to try?" he asks. Your hand drops from your eyes as you stare at him in utter disbelief. “That was the most arousing thing I have ever witnessed, and I would very much like to experience it again."

He slides his hand between your thighs, fingers sliding easily along the soaked length of your pussy, and he watches as you visibly shudder, a whimper leaving your throat.

“Maker, Tech, you’re going to ruin me,” you groan, throwing your head back. A distinctly male part of his pride preens, filing your words away for later in the back of his mind to repeat when he was alone. “Maybe some other time.”

His brain stutters, and the hand he’s trailing absently up and down your slit slows to a stop. “You want to do this again?”

“You’re not going to be able to keep me away after this,” you warn, and though he recognizes it's a joke, he can see a hint of something else in your eyes. He pushes himself up to his knees, drawing close until he can anchor himself onto either side of your head with his hands.

“That will not be a problem,” he says, pressing his mouth against yours.

You respond immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The movement forces his cock, still hard and aching, to press against you, and he gasps as he feels the precum beading at his tip smear across your skin.

As if reading his mind, you move a hand between you to take him between your fingers. Using your thumb to spread the leaking fluid down his length, you wrap your fingers around and squeeze. He’s still sensitive from earlier, and he can’t help but move his hips to fuck your fist.

“I—kriff,” he swears as he leans his forehead against yours. His eyelids flutter closed. Your thumb presses against the vein underneath his head, and the sentence forming in his mind disappears in time with the needy whine that falls from his lips.

“I want you inside me, Tech,” you whisper, meeting his gaze when his eyes blink wide. He scrambles back to position himself at your entrance, and he’s surprised again when you shakily move as well.

Your hand presses gently on his chest, and he follows the motion to take your place, his head nestled in your pillows. You move to straddle him with your thighs on either side of his waist, and he feels faint with the amount of blood rushing down to his cock.

He can hardly believe what he’s seeing, though he wishes he could see you more clearly. With the lights still off and his goggles resting on his forehead, he can barely make out your silhouette above him.

Your hand goes back between you to guide his cock to your entrance when he stops you.

“Wait!” He calls out, just as you are beginning to lower yourself onto his lap.

You freeze, and he quickly grabs onto his goggles, tugging them off his head. He nearly drops them in his haste to wipe them off on the sheets before securing them back over his eyes. They aren’t perfectly clean, far from it, but it’s enough to allow him a clear view of the way your slick folds open around his length.

“You may continue.”

You huff out a quiet laugh before you resume your descent, grabbing his cock to hold it steady. His hands reach out to grab hold of either side of your hips as you lazily move his erection up and down your folds, his tip catching on your soaked entrance before notching your clit.

You let out a small whine before doing it again and again, and Tech feels like he is about to combust.

You repeat the motion two more times, and he feels a desperate noise tear itself from his throat. He isn’t entirely sure how he is still managing to breathe.

“Please, cyar’ika,” he hisses, staring hard at your cunt. Your folds are glistening, and his mouth waters at the sight. His grip on your hips tightens as he tries to hold you still, and you relent, taking a deep breath. Your eyes lock on his, and the intensity of your gaze sends a shiver down his spine.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You smirk before sheathing his cock entirely, punching a deep moan out of his chest.

Tech feels as though he is being swallowed whole. Your heat engulfs him, and he can feel every muscle and ridge along your walls. He gasps, his head thrown back, and his nails dig into your skin.

The feeling of being inside you is indescribable. You're so perfect, and his brain is melting, his vision is whiting out, and his heart is going to burst out of his chest, and he never wants this to end.

It’s a revelation, an epiphany, a truth he could have gone his whole life without knowing, but now that he does, there is no turning back.

You seem to be having an equally hard time with it, your breath escaping you in tiny pants. You slowly shift your hips, grinding against the nearly trimmed hair of his pubic bone with a barely suppressed whine.

After a few more minutes of adjusting to each other, you start to move. You lean forward and brace yourself on his chest as you rock back and forth, and the motion draws another gasp from you, the feeling of your tightening around him nearly making him choke. You are relentless, using him for your pleasure, and he is more than willing to let you.

A litany of curses and praises pour from his lips as you ride him, and you seem to delight in his vocalizations, speeding up the more he says. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent-shaped marks, and the pain only heightens his pleasure.

His hands find their way to your breasts, and he plays with your nipples, twisting and pulling on the hardened nubs. You moan, arching into his touch, and Tech can't stop himself from leaning forward and wrapping his lips around one of the buds.

Your pussy clenches around him, and he groans, sucking and biting and teasing until you are squirming on his cock. Your hips are rocking faster, and you’re panting and gasping, and Tech is sure he has never seen anything more beautiful. He can feel his orgasm building, the tingling sensation returning, spurred on by your movements.

“I will not last long,” he warns you. “You feel so good.”

His broad vocabulary is failing him, but he can’t find it in himself to care as you slowly lift yourself, his cock nearly sliding out before slamming back into your body, and his hips thrust upward to meet you.

He feels his tip kiss the mouth of your womb, and his eyes roll back, the feeling nearly sending him over the edge.

You begin a new rhythm, rising and falling onto him, and he matches you thrust for thrust, driving into you with a ferocity that has the bed creaking beneath him. It’s clumsy at first, but the awkward movements give way to something more rhythmic as you figure each other out.

He can see the tension rising in your body, the way your brows knit together, and he wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart. He releases one of your hips to slide a hand between you, his thumb finding your clit.

The effect is instantaneous. You clench around him, the rhythm breaking for a moment as you try to move faster, to find your peak. Tech can feel the coil inside him tightening, and he knows he won't be able to hold on much longer.

"That's it, mesh'la, come for me," he growls.

You let out a keening wail, and your body goes rigid, your back arching. Tech watches in wonder as you throw your head back and scream his name, your pussy clamping down on him. He can feel your release seeping out of you, coating his thighs, and the sound of his name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge.

He can only manage a few more thrusts before his own climax overtakes him, his muscles locking as he comes with a shout. His vision whites out, his mind goes blank as he empties himself inside you. He feels as though his soul has left his body, his entire being centered on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock.

It feels like an eternity before he can think straight, and when his senses return to him, you're slumped over him, your face pressed against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. He can feel your heartbeat through your skin, and the weight of you is surprisingly comforting.

You stir after a moment, leaning back to look him in the eye.

He raises a hand, cupping your cheek. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you in any way? Do you require anything? I was aware that you would be dehydrated and—”

"I'm fine, Tech." You giggle. "Just a little sore. But, I'm really good."

Tech breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing further into the bed.

"I'm glad," he says, moving his hand down to brush your sweaty hair from your face. “Is this an opportune moment to tell you that I love you?"

You stare at him for a moment, your mouth dropping open.

"What?"

"I love you," he repeats, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Perhaps you don’t feel the same? He thinks back to the moments leading up to your coupling. He’s almost certain he hasn’t imagined you returning his feelings. "Do you not feel the same way?"

"No, I do. I mean, I love you too, Tech," you rush to explain, sitting up.

His softening cock slips from your body, and he’s mesmerized by the way your combined releases trickle from your folds. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his.

It’s a short, sweet kiss, and he can feel his lips pulling up into a smile when you pull away.

"Well, in that case," he begins, "I think it would be appropriate to suggest that we make this a recurring activity."

You laugh, burying your face against his shoulder. "Definitely. We have a lot more of your research to verify."

"Agreed." Tech nods before his brain catches up to his mouth. His ears turn pink as he processes what exactly you're saying. "Oh."

You shift, lifting your head to smirk at him. "I suppose you should get started."

He doesn’t bother with a reply, rolling you over to pin you beneath him.

[justagalwhowrites]

Oral Fixation - A TLOU One Shot

It's your boyfriend Joel's birthday but what do you give the man who has given you so much? AKA You learn how to give Joel a blow job. A one-shot set in the Lavender universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

CW: Oral sex, mild age gap (Joel is turning 33, reader is 21 almost 22), mild description of past sexual encounter involving oral sex that wasn't the best, Joel is almost disturbingly happy because he hasn't been traumatized yet RIP trauma-free Joel, unprotected P in V sex, no use of Y/N, 18+ only minors DNI

Length: 4.5k

A/N: The final part of the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration! Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's nanny and has been seeing Joel for about six months.

Masterlist | Lavender Masterlist | AO3

September, 2000

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you said, all but clinging to Cassie’s arm as the two of you made your way through the adult store. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but it wasn’t this, neon colored silicone penises and intimidatingly tiny scraps of lace everywhere you looked. 

“And I can’t believe you don’t own a vibrator,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a prude, with the way you and the DILF go at it I’m pretty sure you’ve had more sex than I have at this point.” 

Your cheeks got hot but… she was probably right. You and Joel had sex a LOT. So much that it was hard to believe that, just six months earlier, you’d still been a virgin. Sure, you doubted that sex with anyone else was even half as good as it was with Joel but it felt like you’d been denying yourself a whole world of good things because you’d been reluctant to make that leap for so long. Now, you wanted to make up for lost time, something that Joel was happy to oblige. 

But, because you were so new to it, you didn’t really know much and, what’s worse, you didn’t know what you didn’t know. 

Which is why you’d turned to Cassie in the first place. Joel’s birthday was coming up and you’d drawn a complete blank on what to get the man. You’d never gotten anyone a birthday gift who wasn’t your grandmother or your friend. What the hell did you get a boyfriend? What the hell did you get a man? 

“You, naked, ready to recreate the filthiest porn the guy’s got,” Cassie said, not even looking up from the latest issue of Cosmo as she did. “And, because it’s you, bake him a cake or something. He’ll be thrilled.” 

“I don’t know that Joel watches porn,” you crinkled your nose. That made her look up. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked, incredulous. “Babes. He’s a man. Of course he watches porn.” 

“I’m sure he would if things were different,” you said. “But he has a kid at home, we have to fight for privacy, I don’t think he’s exactly sitting down and putting on some…” 

“He is,” she said, closing the magazine now. “I promise you, he is. Maybe less now that you’re in the picture but he definitely is. Stashed under his bed or in some shoebox at the back of his closet is a pile of all his dirtiest fantasies and all you have to do is gift wrap yourself, ready to fulfill them.” 

So you might have done some snooping the next time you were at Joel’s before he got home from work. 

Maybe. 

Just a little. 

And yeah, Cassie might have been right. There might have been a box - one a bit bigger than a shoebox but not much bigger - that had tapes and magazines inside. You took a quick inventory, looking at the covers of the videos and flipping through the pages of the more well-worn magazines. 

It seemed both invasive and oddly impersonal, rifling through something that was mass produced and clearly not intended for you to see but was something that it seemed like you should know. The women in the magazines and on the covers of the tapes were so much more… everything than you were. More sexy, more confident, more knowledgable. It made your stomach twist. 

Was this what Joel really wanted? He was older than you and you’d been a late bloomer in the romance department. Of course he had more experience but he’d never made it sound like anything was missing from your sex life. But maybe he was just being nice. Maybe what he really wanted was something more like whatever someone named Candy was doing on the back of this VHS sleeve. 

It seemed like the least you could do for Joel was find a way to give him what he wanted.

So Cassie had convinced you to come to this store to figure out something to do for him for his birthday. Not that you had much idea what that would be. 

“What’s his favorite color?” She asked, examining the tiny scraps of lace. 

“Forest green?” You asked more than answered, examining something that you were pretty sure was a bra but seemed to be missing some key components. You were about to move on to something else when one of the movies playing on the opposite wall caught your eye. It was one of the actresses from the tapes at Joel’s, you recognized her. She was looking hungrily at a cock before taking it into her mouth, eyes closed in bliss with a satisfied groan. 

Cassie noticed where you were staring and joined you, smirking a little. 

“Like watching someone get their dick sucked, eh?” She teased, elbowing you lightly. 

You glared at her. 

“I just…” You looked back at the screen. “I think Joel has that video.” 

“Really?” She said, brows raised, looking back at the screen as the woman started to slide up and down the thick cock. “Well, that’s simple enough. Just blow him, wham bam thank you ma’am, you’re set.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Oh don’t tell me you suck him off too much as it is,” she said. “Your sex life is already insufferably perfect.” 

“No,” you said, defensive, your cheeks getting hot. “I just…” 

“Just what?” She asked when you stayed quiet a bit too long. 

“I’ve never… done that,” you said, looking back at the screen as the woman there hollowed out her cheeks and moaned. 

“What!” Cassie yelped and you shushed her as the other people in the store turned to stare. “You’ve never…” 

“Not with Joel,” you said quickly. “I did once with a guy but it didn’t go great and I really didn’t like it and honestly I think Joel might be too big to…” 

“Too big?” She grabbed your arm, her eyes wide. “Babes, you said he was big but like… what do you mean too big? Gimme a ballpark, like…” she tugged you over to a wall of remarkably life-like dildos and pointed to one on the larger end. “That big?” 

“No,” you said and she looked relieved for a moment before you pointed to one that was even bigger. “More like that one.” 

Cassie’s jaw dropped, looking between you and the silicone dick in awe. 

“That’s what the DILF is packing?” 

“Can you please not call him that?” 

“You big slut!” She was practically beaming. “Taking that for your first time? You deserve a medal!”

“Can we just…” 

“That’s it, you’re sucking his dick for his birthday,” she said, grabbing flavored lube, throat numbing spray and a copy of the tape that was playing overhead. “As often as he apparently goes down on you? Seems like the least you can do is return the favor as he turns… what, 47?” 

You glared at her and she smirked at you. 

“33,” you said. 

“And you don’t want me to call him a DILF,” she said, grabbing a surprisingly conservative set of lingerie and a small vibrator on her way to the counter. “Come on, we’ll turn you into an oral champ before you know it!”

You watched the video with Cassie that night after you had half a bottle of cheap wine in your system. The woman on screen seemed so… into it. The one time you’d gone down on someone was the summer before you left for college, going out with a boy you met at the movie theater when you took the kids you were babysitting there to see Hercules. He was cute, nice, didn’t carry the baggage a lot of the boys you’d gone to high school with did. On your fourth date, you were making out in his car and he’d nudged your head down lower and lower until it was in his lap. He pulled his cock out and you cautiously, hesitantly, took him in your mouth and you did try to do what you thought he wanted while taking it slow. But it didn’t take long before he was moaning and thrusting up into your mouth and you gagged as he pushed your head down further on his dick. You’d all but ripped yourself away, coughing and sputtering, and he half heartedly apologized before trying to push your head to his lap again. You didn’t go for it that time and he took you home. You didn’t go out with him again, deciding to write off men until you were away at college and hopefully meeting one who was fine with you doing things like not sucking their dick. 

Which, Joel was. Or seemed to be, anyway. But if he enjoyed it - if it felt like it was something that was missing from your sex life - you wanted to give it to him. He’d given you so much, you wanted to give him everything. You just needed to figure out how to do it. 

After you giggled your way through the video the first time, you started it again as Cassie gave you some tips: How to breathe through your nose, how to swallow around your gag reflex, how to use your tongue, how guys liked when you choked on it a little. It felt almost like you were in class, taking notes on a piece of scratch paper you mentally vowed to set on fire after you practiced a little with a cucumber so no one had to know that you needed someone to teach you this stuff, stuff that seemed like it should come naturally to you. 

“Just use the throat spray, use the lube and breathe through your nose,” she said when she left to go home the next morning. “You’ll have him eating out of your hand.” 

“Right,” you said, trying to ignore the tight knot of nerves that had settled in your stomach. “I can do it.” 

You carefully selected a Joel-sized cucumber at the grocery store and tried to not feel like an idiot as you followed Cassie’s advice as you practiced leading into Joel’s birthday. It wasn’t as bad when there wasn’t someone shoving your head down on their lap though it still wasn’t your favorite thing. But for Joel? You’d deal. 

The day you were going to celebrate his birthday, the reality of it set in. If there was one thing you were an expert in by now, it was your boyfriend’s cock and your boyfriend’s cock was… big. What if the throat spray didn’t work as well when you weren’t the one in control of what was going in your mouth? Worse, what if you were just bad at it? What if he had an ex who was as good at sucking him off as that porn star would be and you’d be struggling to measure up the whole time? 

You were rarely nervous with Joel anymore but you were weirdly nervous as you made him dinner - chicken fried steak - and tried to not let it show as the two of you ate together and had drinks and cake while watching Alien in his living room after. 

“You spoil me way too damn much, baby,” Joel said as your head was nestled against his chest, his lips in your hair. You could feel him smile against you as he kissed you there. “Best birthday I’ve had in years, thank you.” 

“Well, I might have one more thing for you,” you said, sitting up from him and smiling a little, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Really?” He cocked a smile at you, his cheek dimpling. “Does it involve you naked?” 

“It might,” you teased, relaxing a little as you looked at him. This was Joel, the safest man you knew, the person you loved more than any other. It would be OK. “Want to go to your room and find out?” 

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he winked, getting up and helping you off the couch. Once you were up stairs, the two of you kissed your way down the hall but he moaned as you pulled away from him and nudged him back toward the bed. 

“Just stay put,” you said. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he called as you disappeared into his bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to take a deep, calming breath before going to his linen cupboard and pulling out the throat spray, lube and lingerie you’d stashed away earlier. You used the spray first, wincing at the antiseptic-like taste of it, before you quickly stripped, balling up your sundress and bra and pulling on the deep green lacy babydoll set Cassie had picked for you. As you examined yourself in the mirror - fluffing your hair and adjusting your breasts in the sheer cups - you gave your best friend this much: she knew how to help make you comfortable. The set wasn’t too revealing or over the top but still highlighted your curves and put all the parts of you Joel seemed to like best on display. 

“Thank you, Cassie,” you muttered before taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, the strawberry flavored lube clutched tight in your hand. You looked your reflection in the eye and tried to get lost in the almost-porn star version of yourself in the mirror. 

“You got this,” you said almost silently, giving yourself a single, resolute nod before going for Joel’s room again. 

He was sitting obediently where you’d left him, watching the bathroom door. You draped yourself against the frame, popping a hip out to accentuate your curves, one arm stretched high over your head against the wood. Joel’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. 

“Like what you see?” You asked more confidently then you felt. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he said reverently. “Gonna gimme a heart attack, looking that damn good.” 

“Well don’t go dropping dead on me now,” you teased, walking toward him in what you hoped was a sexy way and not something that made you look like an idiot. “You haven’t even gotten your present yet.” 

He put his hands on your waist when you reached him but, instead of straddling him, you reached down and spread his legs so you could step between them. You knelt in front of him, holding his gaze as you did, reaching for his jeans to open them. 

“What…” he frowned, looking down as you freed his cock, thick and long and hard. 

“Told you,” you said, trying to make yourself sound sultry and not nervous. “I had something for you.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you licked his shaft from root to tip, his skin velvet smooth and salty on your tongue. He groaned as you did and you took a deep breath as you took his tip into your mouth, sucking him gently as you did. 

Even just that was a lot and, as your tongue teased him, you squeezed some of the flavored lube into your hand before you spread it over his shaft, working him with your hand, your heart racing. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as you started taking more of him into your mouth, licking and sucking and trying to focus on breathing through your nose as you did. It took more time than you really wanted to get all of him in your mouth, swallowing past your numbed gag reflex as best you could to take his length into your throat. You moaned as you did, sucking him hard, hollowing your cheeks like the girl in the video had done and he moaned, too, his fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. “Goddamn, your mouth…” 

You would have smiled at that if your mouth wasn’t open so wide. Instead, you started trying to work his cock the same way you did the cucumber in practice, hopefully the same way the girl did in the video he had. 

Joel’s breaths started coming quicker, needy little pants dripping from his lips as his cock dripped in your mouth and you took the encouragement, trying to move faster as you did, trying to take him as deep as you could every time. 

But Joel was big and you were almost positive he was getting bigger as you worked him, his cock swelling even further, his precome salty at the back of your throat, and the faster you moved the harder he was to take. Eventually, even with the spray, it was too much and you choked, coughing and gagging enough that you had to pull back from him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. 

“Woah, you alright?” He asked, leaning forward and frowning at you, still a little breathless as he did. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you nodded, trying to keep yourself from coughing, massaging your throat as you did. “Sorry, I just…” 

“Don’t apologize, baby, goddamn,” he laughed once. “Not after doin’ all that for me…” 

You smiled a little sheepishly, feeling like you could breathe again. But the numb feeling at the back of your throat was gone. 

“I can do it again,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “I just… I got some throat spray and I just need to…” 

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together, frowning deeper this time. 

“Throat spray?”

You nodded. 

“It’s numbing?” You said, almost like it was a question. “I hadn’t really done this much before and I really wanted to do it like…” 

“Like what?” He asked and your eyes went wide. Shit. You hadn’t meant to say that part. “Like what, baby?” 

“Like the woman in one of the videos in your closet?” You said sheepishly, your heart pounding, everything else coming out in a rush. “I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t figure out what to get you for your birthday and Cassie suggested finding out what porn you liked and trying to recreate it so I might have looked through some of your things, I promise it was just to surprise you and give you what you wanted and…” 

“Baby,” he cut you off gently, tucking his cock back into his jeans. “Hey, it’s OK, c’mere.” He tugged you up on the bed beside him and you kept your eyes determinedly on your hands. “Think you can look at me?” 

You took a deep breath but listened, gnawing on your lower lip as you did. 

“There are those pretty eyes of yours,” he smiled a little, cupping your cheek. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t appreciate the thought - don’t think any woman’s ever done something like that for me - but honey, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do. I really don’t want to do something that’s rough enough on your body that you gotta numb yourself to get through it.” 

You frowned. 

“But you go down on me…” 

“Yeah, because I like to,” he said. “Like seein’ what I can do to you but that doesn’t mean you have to do it back to me, not unless you want to. And if you do want to, you don’t need to do it so hard that you hurt yourself. It’s not good for me if it’s not good for you, too.” 

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded. 

“Besides,” he smiled a little. “Haven’t needed those videos in a while. Honestly, I kinda forgot I even still had ‘em.” 

You scoffed. 

“Hey, I’m being serious,” he said. “Haven’t used ‘em since you and I got together, that’s for damn sure. And for a few months before that I may or may not have had better luck thinkin’ about this sexy nanny I had working for me…” 

“Oh really?” You teased lightly, heat taking the place of the nerves in your stomach. 

“Really,” he said, almost unsettlingly earnest. “I’ve been yours for a while, baby. And that’s because I love you, don’t have a damn thing to do with what you do in bed.” 

You smiled softly and kissed him, his lips gentle on yours for a moment before it deepened, turning hot and needy. 

Joel tugged you back on the bed with him, one hand splaying wide over your back, the other slipping into the soft lace of your lingerie to cup your breast. But, before you got too distracted, you pulled back from him, making him frown a little. 

“But what if I want to,” you said, biting your lip again. 

His frown deepened. 

“Want to what?” 

“Suck your cock,” you said, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks got. 

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his eyes darkening. 

“Because I do want to,” you said. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” 

“You sure?” He asked. “Because I know I can be… a lot to take.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Think I know how big your cock is, Joel. And I know what I want.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, lying on his back, freeing his cock and stroking it as he did. “Gotta take it easy and let me help.” 

You nodded eagerly before settling near his hips, taking his length in your hand and stroking him up and down, running your thumb over his leaking tip. When you looked at him now, you weren’t intimidated. Instead, you were hungry for him, wanting to feel him deep inside you in a different way, your mouth watering with it. 

You lowered yourself over him, licking his head, your tongue wide and flat against him and Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in the blankets on the bed. You took a moment to really experience him, the taste of him, the heady concentration of the scent of him in the thatch of coarse hair at his base, the tender softness of his skin. It shouldn’t have been surprising but you wanted more, more of all of it. 

So you took more, his tip disappearing into your mouth slow and easy. 

“Fuck, there you go baby,” he was damn near panting with need and you smiled a little around his intrusion, at what you were doing to him. “Nice and slow.” 

You moaned as you sank lower, easing more and more of him into your mouth before rising up and then taking a little more of him, your tongue pressed tight to his shaft as you did again and again. 

And then he was at the back of your throat, no longer numbed, and you tried to do what Cassie had told you to do: Swallow him past your gag reflex to get all of him inside. 

It worked, at first, your lips making it almost to the base of his shaft as he groaned. But it didn’t last, your body quickly trying to reject the thick heft of him in your throat, making you gag. This time, though you didn’t try and force it, pulling back quickly but leaving his head in your mouth. 

“You OK?” He asked, his voice strained, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head. You just nodded, his tip still in your mouth. “Here, gimme your hand.” 

You obeyed and Joel guided your fingers to the base of his shaft. 

“Just…” you could hear the desperation in his voice. “Hold on like that, don’t gotta take it all. Feel the most at the tip, anyway.” 

You nodded and worked your way lower again, a little faster this time, adjusting your grip so you were still taking most of him into your mouth but not quite hitting your gag reflex. Joel’s breaths grew sharper, more desperate and you could feel him straining to hold back from fucking up into you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of power at that, the way you could make him almost lose himself to pleasure. 

You started to work him faster, your tongue pressing and curling around him, your mouth working in tandem with your hand. It wasn’t long before you found your rhythm over him, rising and falling, sucking and licking, savoring every inch of him you could take. And even though you were focused on making Joel feel good, it was making you tight and needy, too, the hand not around his cock finding your slit, fingers trailing through the wetness that had grown there. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Takin’ me so well, baby, doin’ so damn good.” 

You moaned, working him harder, faster as your fingers grew firmer on your clit and you suddenly, desperately, needed all of him in your mouth, gag reflex be damned. 

So you took all of him, moaning as his head slipped into your throat, sucking him hard and fast and you felt him twitch in your mouth before he all but ripped you away from him, leaving you stunned for a moment. 

But then he damn near jumped between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side and pushing into you. You gasped at the stretch of him, your pussy already tightening around him. Joel’s hips snapped into yours just as fast as you’d been sucking him before. 

“Ain’t gonna last,” he said, burying his face in your neck and kissing the delicate skin there. “Too fuckin’ good at that, Jesus…” 

You could only moan in response, your own orgasm building quickly, your fingers tugging at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer, your pussy drawing tight around him for a second before you fell apart. Your orgasm was so powerful you couldn’t move, crying out with the force of it as Joel fucked into you twice more before he came, too, pressing himself deep inside as he spilled into you.

Joel collapsed, spent, on top of you after, still fully clothed and panting for breath as you held him close. 

“Holy shit baby,” he said eventually, still a little breathless. 

You laughed quietly. 

“Did I measure up to the video?” You teased. 

He pulled back from you, looking you over for a moment, like he was trying to tell if you were joking or not. 

“Think you know the answer to that,” he said, kissing you gently as he slid himself from you and lay beside you. He tugged you against him as he settled, tucking your head against his chest. “But in case it wasn’t clear, yeah. You beat ever damn porno I ever watched, ain’t even close.” 

You smiled, proud. 

“Good,” you said. “Because… I liked doing that.” 

You felt him lift his head to look at you before dropping back down to the bed. 

“Really?” 

“Yup,” you said, tracing your fingers over the outline of his pecs through his shirt. “Think I’ll want to do it again.”

“Sure as hell won’t get any arguments from me.” 

“There is a downside, though,” you said, sitting up just enough to look at him. 

“What’s that?” He frowned and you smiled. 

“Now I’m going to have to figure out what the hell to get you for your birthday next year.” 

He laughed and tucked you back against his chest. 

“Just keep givin’ me you, baby,” he said. “Doesn’t get any better than that.” 

A/N: I missed Joel and Doc so I wrote this. Thanks for reading them even more than a year after Lavender ended.

Happy birthday, Joel!

Love you all!

[mayhemories]

Pregnancy baby trope baby daddy Neteyam x reader please

TELLING NETEYAM YOURE PREGNANT 😩😩😩😩😩😩

Tsahik Always Knows

Oh my god!! Daddy Neyetam would be so sweet! Also, I'm sorry for the lack of posts, I've been studying overseas and this course is an intensive fieldwork unit so I have had like no time to think. Additionally, some of my tags are working and some are not - I'm so sorry if I miss out on tagging you!

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none. Vomit? Fluff? 

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes: 

Neteyam is 24, reader is 23, established relationship. AU where they never left the forest and Jake is still Olo’eyktan, Neteyam will take that mantle eventually,, happy-happy can’t read or write any more angst for real. 

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Tag List: @lilprettypetite @nyotamalfoy @weasleytwinwheezes @aonungs-tsahik @rainbowsocks @glitterandgoldfinds @bluealiensimp @melsunshine @ussoppl @wondxrgurll @luvlykrispy @myheartfollower @gloryavila

Read Below Cut:

You stared at the remnants of last night’s dinner on the floor. You had vomited, again. This had been happening in the mornings, on and off for the last few weeks. You did not feel sick, so why were you sick? 

Normally the vomit happened at home. Normally Neteyam had already left to tend to his duties. Normally you could clean it up and pretend like it never happened. 

The heat of your embarrassment swarmed over your neck and shoulders, sweeping up into your cheeks and ears. You knelt, frozen in place over the bile you had just produced. 

On Mo’at’s tent floor. 

She was practically, and legally, your grandmother, and had been since you were nineteen-years-old. But you never thought of her like that. She was your Tsahik, your teacher, your elder, your spiritual guide, healer of the Omaticaya. 

And you had vomited on her floor. 

Mo’at cleared her throat, sitting across from you, your shameful vomit between you. Tears welled in your eyes. This was the worst day of your life. 

“Well, luckily it was just you and me here, hm,” Mo’at said with an unusual lightness, a sweetness that was enough to spin you out of your own thoughts. 

“My Tsahik, I am so sorry I do not know-” 

“Don’t be stupid, how can you not know?” The typical biting Mo’at that you were familiar with came back, quickly. The woman leaned forward with a cloth, mopping up your watery bile like a dealdly secret to be kept between the Tsahik and her assistant.

Now, you really did not know what she meant. You sat up taller, finding a cloth to wipe your mouth clean, something tangible to hold onto. 

“My Tsahik, I promise you, I do not know what you think I know.” You whispered into the cloth at your mouth. Mo’at discarded her cloth that blotted your vomit into a wooden bowl. Some poor trainee will deal with it later. She squinted at you, taking you in. Harshly, she grabbed at your wrists, inspecting your palms, and your shaking, delicate fingers. 

She huffed as she held your wrist tightly in her left, her right hand poking at your cheek, breasts and thighs. “Hey!” you had enough of her prodding, as you pulled your wrist from her vice-like grip. 

“Lay down. Now.” The Tsahik made moves to push you back onto the woven mats on the floor. You were scared and confused and honestly, getting rather emotional. You were still reeling over the embarrassment the vomit caused you. More and more these days you found yourself crying over nothing, or getting easily embarsassed. 

You laid still, scared of Mo’at, and, scared of vomiting again. Flat on your back, you stared at the keen weavings of Mo’at’s medical tent. You hissed, looking down, Mo’at has placed a cold hollowed stone on your lower stomach, her ear pressed against it, she furrowed her brow bone. 

The elder woman jerked up once she was satisfied, discarding her stone instrument, she settled back into her seated position on the floor, you mirroring her. 

“Tsahik-” 

“You are with child, quite obviously.” Mo’at had cut you off, while simultaneously giving you news that ripped all the air from your lungs. 

Your mind was spinning. You were happy, you were sad, you were excited, you were embarrassed. How could you not see the signs within yourself? Obviously you and Neteyam mated often- 

Oh, Eywa. 

Neteyam. 

You were going to have to tell him. 

It was not like you both hadn’t spoken on the topic before, you knew you both wanted kids, a family. Additionally, children were expected, a future Olo'eyktan must be secured. 

But the two of you had not planned for it to happen so soon. You had been so careful, tonics and teas. God, Neteyam pulled out most of the time. 

Subconsciously one hand laid across your abdomen, the other covering your mouth. You felt your eyes struggling to focus on Mo’at, on anything really. You felt like a shell. A shell with a small shell inside. 

“How far along?” You whispered, normally you would scold yourself for your informality towards Mo’at, but you would give yourself a break just this once. 

“A month, maybe two. Nothing more, nothing less. You are not physically showing yet but you cannot be far away.” The rare gentleness from Mo’at rose its head once again. You were grateful for it. “Now, my lovely girl, go. Go collect yourself and tell my grandbaby that you’re having my great-grandbaby.” Mo’at said softly, helping you to your feet. 

You couldn’t remember the short walk from Mo’at’s tent to the home you shared with Neteyam. You felt as if you were on auto-pilot, blacking out and teleporting from place to place. You quickly sat on the side of your shared bed. Furs and gossamer blankets providing comfort to your shaking legs. Laying back, you stared at the gossamer canopy Neteyam had only recently erected above your bed, dangling your legs off the side. 

You rested your hands on your stomach, trying to etch into your memory what it felt like now, knowing that it will eventually swell with the growth of your baby. 

Neteyam’s baby. 

Realistically, you knew that Neteyam won’t be angry. Shocked? Maybe. But angry? Neteyam had never, ever been angry with you before. Emotionally? It was a different story, you imagined Neteyam being frustrated and screaming at you. You imagined him being disappointed. You imagined him packing his things and leaving. The passing thoughts alone were enough to put you on edge. 

Sighing aloud, you had a look at the water clock resting on the other side of the room, you still had a few hours before Neteyam was to return. You still had a few hours to pull yourself together and work out how you were going to spit it out. 

Neteyam ran his hands over his face, pulling up his ionar onto his forehead. His whole body burned from that flight. He had missed you today, not usually staying out on patrol this late, but the young recruits needed training, and Neteyam was always eager to please. But, he was a domestic man at heart, he loved being at home with you, loved pulling you to his chest, loved making whatever new thing you asked for. 

He loved nesting, he realised. Loved doing it with you. 

Striding from the Ikran keeper, Neteyam wanted nothing more than to see you. 

The warm lights of your home welcomed him, though when he peered through the gap in the curtain flap, all he saw was your anxious figure, pacing back and forth, muttering to yourself. The air was wrong, Neteyam had never really seen you like this. He watched quietly, confused as to how you had not scent him already, something was wrong with you and he would be damned if he did not find out what. 

“Oh Eywa, what am I supposed to say?” You prayed silently, wringing your wrists. You thought the pacing would bring you clarity, as it often provided your father-in-law. Yet you felt empty. And so unbearably full at the same time. In the few hours you had to wait for your mate you had come to love the little life growing in your womb.

You were so excited. You could hardly contain yourself. Neteyam would be the most perfect father. But as the night grew closer your brain started to pick itself apart. 

It was all too much. You fell to your knees in the middle of your home, letting the tears flow freely now. 

Neteyam did not let that stand for long. He quickly rushed in, picking you up and placing you in his lap. His strong arms snaking around your sobbing form. Your head quickly found is chest. He felt your hot tears streaming down your beautiful face and onto his skin. Neteyam hushed you, like he watched his mother do with his siblings, gently rocking you back and forth. It was so silent, save from your sobbing hiccups. Neteyam did not dare speak until you had stopped. 

“My love, what has happened?” He asked gently, pulling away to cup your delicate face in his large, calloused hands. His eyes found yours, and he could see something was creating great turmoil in the labyrinth of your complicated, intelligent mind. 

You sighed in response, shaking your head. Trying to find any courage at all. Knowing you have news that will change the course of someone’s life was not something you dealt with well. Maybe you were not cut out to be the clan’s spiritual leader as Tsahik. But that was a different problem for a different day. 

Neteyam placed a chaste kiss to your lips, then your cheeks, under your eyes, the tip of your nose, your forehead. You were loved, he said through the gesture. You are safe here. 

“Neteyam,” You started, softly. You were always softspoken. Something of which drove Neteyam crazy in love with you. So gentile, so docile, so calm. “I have something to tell you.” Neteyam’s stomach started to flip at your words, anxiety settling in, but like any good soldier, he willed his face into a blank expression. Giving nothing away. 

And, in turn, giving you nothing. 

“Continue my little love.” He said, putting your baby hairs behind your ears, smoothing your loose hair down as you spoke. 

“Neteyam,” You cleared your throat, forcing that invisible, metaphysical bubble away. “I am with child.” The words hung in the air between you, and all you could do was wait for your mate to respond.

Neteyam felt like he was dreaming. Of all the things he prepared for you to say, you being pregnant was not one of them. 

His tail betrayed him before his mouth did. Rapidly going side to side, the smile that erupted on Neteyam’s face threatened to split his jaw apart. 

You were carrying a baby. His baby. Your baby, together, with him. 

You melted into Neteyam’s searing kiss as he held you flush to his body. Pulling apart, Neteyam’s hands rested on your stomach, bright eyed and smily. He kissed your stomach over and over and over again. Peppering the whole area with his hot lips. You giggled at him. He was perfect. 

“Oh (y/n), I am so happy.” Neteyam kissed you again, your giggles erupting between kisses as he could not decide on what he wanted to look at, your face or your stomach. “How long have you known, sweetheart?” He rested his forehead on yours, his hands resting on your still flat stomach. 

“I found out earlier today.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Your grandmother knew.” 

Neteyam laughed, his shoulders shaking, beads of his braids clinking together. 

“She knows everything.” 

That night as the two of you laid in bed, Neteyam spooning you, you rose out of your slumber briefly. Neteyam’s tail had wrapped itself around your thigh, your own tail sat under your abdomen of its own accord. Neteyam’s fingers splayed over your stomach. He was so protective already. So in love with you and your unborn baby. 

You smiled. Shutting your eyes you thanked Eywa for gifting you with something so precious. 

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 11 - Park Jihyo x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

You had only been married a few couples of hours. There are still a lot of things inside boxes in your new house, but you and your wife Jihyo have no plans to make the place look like an actual home anytime soon. You are very busy with other kinds of things, something much more pleasant. 

Currently Jihyo is against the wall of the hall that leads to your room, while you're kissing her neck. Both of you are half naked, with a lot of missing clothes but full of passion and horniness. Your fingers are working over her clothed pussy, making her panties wet, while her hands are inside your pants grabbing your ass. 

“Ta-take me to bed…” She manages to say between moans, and following the desires of your wife you get off of, taking off your clothes. She does the same, only leaving her pair of already wet panties. Then you lift Jihyo and with her in your arms you cross the door of your new matrimonial room. Inside things are much more like a normal house, with some boxes but at least the bed is perfectly made. 

You gently put Jihyo on the bed and start kissing her again, starting a battle of tongues between your mouths. Your hands run over her body grabbing her big breast and squeezing them, they barely can be contained for your fingers. The soft meath of her full boobs spills between your digits. That sensacion makes your dick harder than diamond, now your member is throbbing on demand for being inside your wife. 

You pat her thighs to let your wife know that you want her legs spread for you and she does, allowing you to put a hand inside her panties. Now her pussy It's wetter than before, already soaked. And became even weather when your fingers play with her folds and clit, making her moan like crazy in your mouth. 

“Paties off.” You demand breaking the kiss you were sharing, and before you put your fingers on your mouth in order to clean Jihyo’s slick from them. Your wife obediently raises her legs and takes off her ruined wet panties, throwing them over a random box. Then she opens her thighs again and uses her fingers to spread her folds, offering to you her delicious pussy. That view almost made your cock explode instantly.

“Come and put your kids inside your wife.” Jihyo demands making the dirtiest face you have ever seen her pull off, while her fingers are playing with her entrance. Making it wet and shiny for you. 

The way she pronounces “Wife” awakens something new in you. She’s right, this is the first time you going to fuck your wife and she’s already demanding you to breed her. You have to be a good husband and be up to the challenge, so you kneel between her open legs and grab Jihyo by her thighs. She bites her lower lips staring directly at your eyes, demanding you to put your hard shaft inside her, so you do it. With a long single movement you slide your entire length inside her cunt, and she gladly receives it. 

Both of you are moaning at the time you began to thrust inside her, going as deep as you can. She’s wet and you’re hard, the perfect mash. Her walls clenched over your shaft, and your head pushed them back on an infinite pleasant dance. Her entire body trembles with each one of your thrust, making her big breast bounce with an insane rhythm that is hypotonic to you. Between her loud moans, her tiddies bouncing, or the wet sounds the collision of your shaft and her pussy is doing you don’t know what is driving you crazy the most. All you know is that this woman in front of you, your wife, is demanding your semen and you have to fullifies her needs. You just swore to do it just a few hours ago. 

Now you grab her by the waist and lift a little bit her body, making it easier for you to fuck her. Your muscles are burning but all you can think now is to fill Jihyo’s womb with all the seed you can produce. Your balls are already tenses threatening to spit hot semen inside your wife, as she wants it. 

“Come on Babe, fill me. Shoot all you have inside me.” Another demand your wife does using her high pitch voice, that let you know she’s close too. And how could you not do what your wife lovely ask you to do? So you don’t hold it anymore and allow your balls to unload a big batch of hot semen inside her pussy. 

You keep fucking Jihyo, like if you were stuffing your milk as deep as you could, till the last drop leave your head. Then hard breathing you collapse over her, with your shaft still inside her pussy. Jihyo hugs and kiss you, and you can see she’s proud of the load you just put inside of her, but also you can feel she still wants more from you. “What if you put another batch inside me? I wanna be sure my hot and strong husband gives me all he has.” 

“And what if you put on all fours so your husband can clap your cheeks?” You ask, smiling at the time you sit back on your knees allowing Jihyo to do as you want. 

Now Jihyo is with her ass up on the hair waiting for you to slide your cock inside her again. If you werent ready to fuck her again, the view you have in front of your eyes make you as hard as you can. Your wife have her back curved on an impossible arch, like if she were some kind of cat stretching, and that makes her already plump ass look even bigger. That plus the fact that her thighs are open allowing you to see her wet pussy dripping juices over her legs and her perfectly shaped bush. Oh god! You freaking love this woman and the many ways she have to drive you crazy. 

“Come on.” She say shaking her ass. “Put your dick to work. we aren’t leaving this room until you put some kids in my womb.” Smiling you spank your wife's ass before aligning the head of your dick with the entrance and bury your shaft ass deep as you can inside her pussy once again. 

[deepdisireslonging]

Cake or Cookies

A good round of sexy texting during girls’ night leads to sexy personal time when Bucky gets home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Reader

Warnings/Promises: food mention, descriptions of injuries (canon-level), dirty talk, sexting, SMUT, oral (both receiving), implied further smut

Word Count: 3080

Note: They can pry the Avenger Apartment/Tower from my cold dead hands. Everything’s fine, everyone is fine; what trauma? Why can’t we have nice things? I went hunting through some of my lost prompts and found a couple to squeeze together. Happy reading!

Girls’ night in the Tower was bound to be dangerous. It was usually when Natasha came up with the next round of pranks to play on the boys. And when Wanda took it upon herself to create the best pillow fort to watch movies in. Her magic made it easy to pile the couch pillows and blankets into what looked more like a cozy cave than a fort. And Maria kept track of where to find any films not already stored in Stark’s library.

You were in charge of snacks. Drinks were cozy only: tea, hot chocolate, and coffee. Alcohol parties were for other nights. Snacks ranged anywhere from home-made chips to hors d'oeuvres (fancy and simply indulgent), to the smorgasbord of mass produced favorite snacks you raided from the corner bodega. But you were stumped when it came to tonight’s desserts. The bodega’s sweet treats were present, cheap candy and the like, but you were stuck between the roll of cookie dough and a box mix for cupcakes.

Stumped, you didn’t acknowledge the warm body that ghosted up behind you until a hand slid across your waist. “It’s girls’ night. What are you still doing here?” Sitting down the treats, you turned in Bucky’s arms and scratched your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lightly kissed your forehead. “Needed a break from Tony. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.”

You both inhaled deeply, cheek to cheek. The last mission had been a rough one. Most of the team had come back banged up. And you still had a nasty scrape of road burn up one leg. Which is why you were wearing the equivalent of biker shorts. Pepper had gotten them for you sometime after the social media trend of those leggings ladies liked to tease their S.O’s with. They were surprisingly supportive of your form. You usually wore them underneath your gear because they were borderline indecent. But, with one of Bucky’s oversized shirts covering your figure, nobody had commented.

Except for Bucky as he slid his hands down your body to rest over the curve of your ass.

“I thought these stayed out of sight?”

You teased a glance up at him. “Usually, yes. But It’s girls’ night. We all wear the equivalent of our pajamas since you boys will be out. You are all going out, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Eventually.” But he didn’t move. He hugged you closer, brazenly tilting your head to one side with his nose so he could kiss the underside of your jaw.

“Y/L/N!” Natasha waved from the living room. “Are we ready to go, or what?”

A smile spread across your face. You lightly pushed Bucky away, making him whine. Natasha was already starting the voting poll for the evening’s movies when you turned back to the counter. “I’ve got to bake before the party starts. Do you have a preference for what sweets you’d like to be left over? Cookies or cupcakes?”

Bucky pressed up behind you, resting his large hands on the counter on either side of you, and griding his front into your ass. “Cookies. There’s enough cake in this kitchen already.” He slapped your ass, following with both his hands taking tight squeezes of your flesh.

As you gasped, he rushed out. The wink he shot you from the door warned you that the tease would not be the evening’s last.

Fifteen minutes later, the cookies were out, the movie was in, and everyone was settled into their favorite pile of pillows.

Five minutes into the movie, the texting started.

Lover Boy <3: “How’s the movie?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your phone on silent. If Okoye heard your phone again, you’d never get it back. “We’re watching Magic Mike. So… It’s going well.” You added a smiley face with its tongue sticking out for good measure.

Bucky’s messages popped up every few minutes. You kept your phone screen towards you to see the notification light up your screen without bothering the other women.

Lover Boy <3: “Should I be jealous?”

You: “Nah. Their gyrating doesn’t do it for me.”

Lover Boy <3: “Good to know.”

Lover Boy <3: “Is there anything in the movie that does ‘do’ it for you?”

You smothered a chuckle into your blanket. Each passing second that you took to come up with a teasing reply was surly wreaking havoc on your man.

You: “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

His reply was slow in coming. When it did, you almost fumbled your phone into the floor.

Lover Boy <3: *image incoming*

The picture you received was of Bucky’s hand resting on the top of his thigh. They were out to dinner somewhere, the edge of the table blocking your photo view from the rest of the guys. In the curve between his forefinger and thumb, his bulge was the center of attention. You stuck a sucker in your mouth to cover up your gasp. But the other ladies were too busy hooting for the first dance scene to notice.

You: “Just him? I must be slipping. Especially since I thought you really liked my shorts earlier.”

Lover Boy <3: “I like those shorts because I like taking them off. Girls night got in the way.”

You: “You’ve got to come home sometime.”

Lover Boy <3: “Then what do you have in mind?”

You turned off the flash for your camera and waited for the TV screen to illuminate your face. Sucker holding down your tongue, you sneaked the pic. Before any of the girls could see and tease you. While it sent, you sucked on the round sugar treat. You imagined Bucky’s cockhead on your tongue, as you knew he would too. His reply came in seconds.

Lover Boy <3: “Minx”

You: “And?”

Lover Boy <3: “When I do get home, I’m going to taste something sweeter. All night long.”

Lover Boy <3: “If you can handle it.”

Biting your lip, you smiled into your blanket.

You: “We both know what I can handle. But can you handle what I want to do to you?”

You: “Bet I can blow you so good you forget how to speak Russian before morning.”

You: “Actually, bet I can make you forget all your languages.”

Lover Boy <3: “An official bet?”

Now it was dangerous territory. Neither of you would wager anything that would show in public. Or bring attention from the team inside the tower. But Bucky’s winnings had a steep cost on your ability to walk the next day. Yours usually meant him taking a few days off to spend time together in some distant cabin.

You: “Do we have time to disappear to the Rockies when I win?”

Lover Boy <3: “We just finished a mission. I’m sure I can convince Steve to leave us alone… at least for several nights in a row when I win.”

It was on.

He played dirty by escaping to the bathroom to shoot you a picture of his cock. It was already thick for you, proud and flushed in his palm.

You also escaped. But the picture you sent didn’t require you to take your clothes off. All you did was tug down the front of his borrowed shirt, and splay your fingers wide between your breasts.

You: “Can’t wait to squeeze you between these.”

Lover Boy <3: “9hey now…”

Good. His texting was already stumbling.

You: *picture incoming*

All you did was rest your hand over your throat. But Bucky’s reply of a bunch of scrambled letters made you laugh. You returned to the movie.

You: “Can’t wait for you to get home. But we’ve got about 3 more hours of movies to watch. Think you can last that long?”

Lover Boy <3: “If I have to. Might have to take care of myself before then.”

Wanda looked over as you squirmed in your seat.

You: “You can’t wait for me? I’ll wait for you.”

When the movie lit up enough, you took a picture of the pillow between your thighs.

Lover Boy <3: “Promise?”

You: “Say please.”

His reply, despite the distance between text and actually hearing his voice, dripped with promise. You bit your lip, hearing his growl in your head.

Lover Boy <3: “Since when do get to make the demands around here?”

Lover Boy <3: “Please.”

You: “Since I’m home. Away from the consequences of mouthing off at you till later.”

Lover Boy <3: “You’re not sharing this conversation with the ladies are you? You’re not usually this… sassy.”

You: “This sass is rated E for everyone. But, no. This conversation is just between us.”

You: “I have to stop texting. Natasha is beginning to notice.”

Lover Boy <3: “Until I get my hands on you:”

It was several minutes until you checked your phone, waiting for the others to drop their questioning looks. When you did, you had to smother your moan. He sent one last picture of his tongue out between his fingers. A promise of delectable problems to come.

***

Somebody texted the guys when the movies were almost over. They arrived halfway through you girls cleaning up.

“How was the double feature?” Tony asked. He snagged a remaining hors d'oeuvres off the tray before Maria could stick it in the fridge.

You didn’t hear the reply. All you could focus on was how lust-blown Bucky’s eyes were as he stared you down from the other side of the room. You pressed your thighs together. If the way your chest heaved was any indication, you were in for a long night. Steve barely gave you a glance when you walked past him. Bucky gliding past made him give your departure a second look.

The hallway to your room was dark. The lights that illuminated the floor wouldn’t engage fully unless there was an emergency. Which meant that your shadow was faded against the wall. And it was fractured into several clusters of shadows at reach installation. You didn’t look back. It was part of the game. You couldn’t hear him, but sometimes you could have sworn your shadows had an extra layer.

When you reached for your door handle, another hand beat you to it. Bucky pressed up behind you, pushing you into the room and pinning you to the inside of the door as he locked it. He slid his knee between your legs. Fascinated, he enjoyed the show as you slid the apex of your thighs across the muscle he gave you. He stopped your movements with a hand on your hip, while the other lifted your wrists above your head.

“Did you actually wait, or was that a tease?” He reached into your shorts, groaning to find your slick there. While you trembled, he loudly sucked his middle finger into his mouth. “Oh, ангел, I am going to ruin you. For teasing me like you did.”

“You – you started it. Technically.”

He brought one of your hands down to rest over the front of his pants. “Maybe. But you laid down the gauntlet. How do you want to do this?”

With a grin, you wriggled out of his grasp. You walked backwards towards your bed. Bucky stalked slowly after you. Turning, you ran your hands down your sides, to your hips. And back to the curve of your ass. “Cake?” You smoothed your hands up from your rear to your breasts. “Or cookies?”

Bucky groaned. “The whole damn bakery if I can get my hands on it.” He guided you onto the bed, crawling over you in a way that stole your breath. When you tried to roll him onto his back to begin the challenge, he chuckled. “Nuh-uh. Challenger goes second.”

“But-“

He silenced you with a kiss. As he deepened it, hands kneading into your flesh and removing your clothes, your rebuttal died on your tongue. He barely pulled back enough to remove his own clothes. It wasn’t long before he was working his mouth down your body, kissing and sucking and nipping at your skin until he made it to your sex. 

Sometimes part of the challenge included a timer. Like that one gala when he dared you steal away with him during Tony’s speech, and cum before the ending round of applause. With his head buried under your dress, he won with enough time to participate in the applause for a speech you didn’t give a damn about. You didn’t find out till later that Steve had kept track of when you two disappeared and reappeared. Bucky wrote the time on your bathroom mirror as the time to beat. It had yet to be broken.

Tonight wasn’t one of those times. There was all the time in the world. All night to edge or overstimulate each other to your hearts’ content.

Breathing warm air over your sex, his grin between your thighs sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin. You weren’t sure which was more disarming: his knowledge of your body and its sweet spots that he could make you cum in minutes, or that same knowledge used to bliss you out over hours till you couldn’t remember more than screaming his name. With his tongue, he began the challenge. As if you weren’t soaked already, he made a mess of you. Curling his fingers through your folds. Delving his tongue deep in search of the ability to taste you for days. When he scraped his teeth across your clit, the electricity tightened your fingers in his hair.

He wasn’t drawing this out. A man on a mission, Bucky was doing everything he could to bring you to the brink as fast as he could. The speed that you hurtled toward release stole your breath. That was his plan. Shock you while trying to beat his time so that you wouldn’t be able to speak. And then he’d win double the bragging rights.

And, damn him, it might just work.

Hungrily, he slurped up your pleasure. Adding a third finger to his onslaught, he curled them all to make you see stars. His metal arm flashed out to pin down your hips before you could arch away from him. The metal was cold, frigid, against your flushed skin. The difference in temperature was enough of an overload to your sparkling nerves that your eyes screwed shut. You babbled a series of sounds, making Bucky hum in delight.

But when he came up for air, gently stroking your folds to ease you down, you surprised him.

“Is that all you got, Barnes?”

“Fuck. Seriously?” He rested his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

You did your best to steady your breath. No point in revealing those six words were all you could manage. After another moment, you curled your own finger. You summoned him to hover over you, dangling his dog-tags in your face. Catching one between your teeth, you gripped and pushed his shoulders until he was on his back.

It was your turn to kiss down his body. Across his collar bone and pecs. Down that center chasm between his abs. From one hip bone, down his V, and up to the other side. As you took his length in hand, you had to smile. The poor man should have let you pleasure him first, instead of torturing himself and his cock with waiting. Gently, you circled your thumb around his tip. It dragged a groan out between his teeth. Good. The more vocal he was, the better you could track his ability to speak. Or lack thereof.

You set the challenge into the back of your mind and got to work in pleasing your man.

The first movements were gentle. And careful around how sensitive he was. Still, each touch and twist kept his voice active. He tried to watch you, but kept dropping his head back in pleasure as you quickened your movements. While he was laid back, you shifted your position.

His head snapped up, and he cursed loudly in Russian as his cock was enveloped between your breasts.

Darting out your tongue, you kitten licked the tip of his cock when it came into range. It gave you no small pleasure to watch your man, the Winter Soldier and former Commando, fall to pieces because of you. He cursed louder in English, Russian, and… was that German? But the more you jerked him between your breasts, the more his vocabulary scrambled together. You waited patiently. His metal hand twitched towards to before fisting the sheet. His flesh hand reached back for the pillows, sheets, headboard. Anything to ground himself. Then you struck. You let go of your breasts and dipped low enough to swallow him down. He roared as he bumped the back of your throat. Planting his feet on the bed, his thighs trembled with keeping himself from thrusting into your mouth.

That was fine. You moved enough for the both of you. And, just as his Russian was little more than the most strained of curses, you settled his balls into one hand, and slid the other up his torso. Your nails lightly caught his skin over his heaving breaths.

The high-pitched hiss from the depths of his lungs was your only warning before he filled your mouth.

Your ministrations slowed. You took every ounce of his pleasure, and smiled around his cock as you sucked your way off his length.

He dragged you up to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His lips trembled while trying to say something. Anything. But all he could do was pant into your skin.

You smiled. And kissed the underside of his jaw. While you both recovered, you murmured gentle reassurances between breaths.

“You cheated,” he finally managed.

“Oh? When did I manage that?”

Running his fingers through his hair, he stared you down. “Those damn shorts.”

With a laugh, you nipped at his chest. “What? You did get to take them off, like you wanted. And I can’t help it if you decided to run your hands all over me and get yourself hard. It jazzed me up too. So, in my mind, we’re even.”

“Fine.” He tilted up your face to kiss you. Mumbling against your lips, he complained, “you’re using alotta words there, ангел.”

“And you’re still capable of Russian.”

Bucky grinned. “Then I guess this challenge isn’t done.”

And it wasn’t until long into the night.

***

Ангел: angel

***

Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist 

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unbalanced power dynamics, prolonged imprisonment, wrongful imprisonment.

You’d gotten a key to his office, somehow.

For as much freedom as Wriothesley tried to allow the prisoners Fortress of Meropide, he couldn’t help but wonder how you pulled that little trick off. There were only two copies, one of which he wore at his waist at all hours of the day while the other remained inside a sealed vault, locked behind a code only he knew. He couldn’t begin to imagine how you’d done it, and yet, there you were, emerging at the top of the staircase that led into his only private space, toying with a small bronze key and smiling too brightly for any part of your flawless expression to be genuine. The dubiously-acquired key was slid into one of the pockets of your cover-alls, your smile gifted the company of a breathy laugh, and then, any distance he might’ve been able to keep between the two of you was closed as you clambered onto his desk, stealing what little concentration he still had away. With a sigh, he pushed his chair back, giving you his full attention. This was a familiar routine, one he didn’t have the energy to fight. It wasn’t as if his resistance had ever done much good, not when it came to you.

You spoke first, predictably. He’d never really been the instigating type. “Good morning, your grace.”

“My cigarettes,” he said, nodding towards the corner of his desk where a red-striped paper box had sat a few seconds ago. “If you’re desperate enough to steal, you would’ve tried asking nicely first.”

Rolling your eyes, you produced his missing vice and handed it back to him, but not without snagging one for yourself and stowing it away for later use. It was a minor infraction, though – nothing he couldn’t write off as the price of your visit. “You know,” he went on, leaning back in his seat. “That kind of thing can add time onto your sentence. Not all the guards are going to be as forgiving as me.”

“None of the other guards have anything worth stealing.” Your tone was light, your answer given easily. Sometimes, he tried to picture what you’d look like frowning, yelling, or worse, with pursed lips, clenched fists, tears running down your cheeks as you tried to maintain what little dignity you had left, but he always came up empty. You were good at that – knowing just how much you could show without giving yourself away entirely. If Wriothesley was a crueler man, he may have been tempted to try and take you apart himself. “And even if they did, I’d still come to you first.” His response came in the form of an unimpressed scowl, and you chuckled. “C’mon! Even your heart can’t be cold enough not to find that at least a little bit touching, boss.”

Another sigh, this one somehow more drained than the last. “It’d mean more to me if your rehabilitation seriously,” and then, tapping his leg, “But, my treasured possessions aren’t all you’re here for, right?”

It was your turn to play exasperated, now, to groan and let your head lull to the side as you lowered yourself off of the desk and onto his lap, straddling his thigh and wrapping your arms around his neck. This was part of your routine, too – his favorite part, as loathed as he’d be to ever say that out loud. Try as he might, he had yet to find anything that could compare to the way your weight rested against his, to how your body head warmed just a touch of the chill that’d seeped under his skin and settled years ago. Not many things were able to live in the fortress, not for very long, and yet, here you were, just as radiant as the day the gardes brought you in. If he’d had a more scientific mind, he might’ve thought you were worth studying.

“How long?” Your voice drew him out of his thoughts. He hummed and you repeated yourself, as well-trained as you were rebellious. “How long do I have left before I’m free to go?”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, resting his hands on your hips. “You can’t expect me to know something like that off the top of my head, love.”

“Yes, I can.” He felt you slump against him, your fingertips brush against the nape of his neck. “When it comes to me, I can.”

He let his eyes fall shut. “I requested another six months be added to your sentence last week,” he admitted, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into your throat “Since you had yet to show any signs of lasting rehabilitation. The Iudex approved it yesterday.”

You were so soft, too – uncalloused despite the pressure of the world above, the brutality of what waited for you below. He’d let you steal as many keys as you wanted to, so long as you never hardened. “This is the third extension you’ve asked for.”

“The longest, too.” He’d let you take anything from him, so long as it meant you never left his little world. “I doubt he even revisited your case. People in the overworld don’t tend to pay attention to the finer details of what does on down here, so long as I keep the factories running.”

For a second, he could’ve sworn he felt you stiffen, could’ve sworn he felt your grin waver where it was pressed into the dip of your shoulder.

Then, you were pulling away, your smile as bright as the sun’s light where it caught on the rising tide and twice as beautiful. “You’re never going to let me go, are you?”

This time, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Not if I can help it.”