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astraysimp · 1 year ago

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♡Hi pookies! It’s 9mitm friday and boy have I been waiting for this one!I have been planning this one for soooooooo long….so I am so ready and excited to get this one out!♡ Nessa.exe has malfunctioned♡

Summary: Seungmin has never been into the party scene, but his friends still bug him about going out. But, why would he when he has you and his tiny pochacco at home?

Warnings: college!bf dad Seungmin,Seungmin’s friend are annoying, mad seungmin(not towards you or baby), FLUFF FLUFF MARSHMALLOW FLUFF, soft seungmin, cussing, petnames, fem!reader, lots of pochacco

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12.35pm

Seungmin had just been released from his last lecture. It was Friday, which meant that you didn’t have any classes that day. So, Seungmin knew you would be at your shared apartment with your baby Min Jun. He was looking forward to being able to have his peaceful weekend with you and his baby.However, Seungmin’s friends, Hyunjin and Jisung, had other plans. Seungmin’s plans never included going out and getting drunk. Typically consisting of going back to your apartment, wearing sweats or pajamas and unwinding for the weekend. Oh, and lots of time with the baby.

As he was walking out of his lecture hall and off campus, he felt two hands place themselves on each of his shoulders. “Hey, Seungmin! You down to go to the club tonight?” Hyunjin had asked, smiling at the younger boy. “No, I'm just going to go home to y/n and Minjun.” Whining, Jisung pouted, “But you never go out with us anymore! Come on!” He drawled out, stomping his foot. They always said this, every single time. Hyunjin nodded, “Yeah! Just one night, come on man! It’s been so long since we’ve gone out together!” Hyunjin added.

Seungmin could feel himself getting frustrated. No matter how many times he told them he didn’t like clubbing, he didn’t like parties, he didn’t like drinking…..they never got it. Groaning, Seungmin rebutted, “You guys know I don’t like that type of scene.Why do you keep asking?” He argued, adjusting the straps of his backpack on his shoulder. Quick to butt back in, Jisung replied, “because, you never go out with us, anymore! We’re young and in college, for God’s sake!” “Yeah, we gotta enjoy our youth, bro!” Hyunjin chimed in. Seungmin didn’t care that he was in his 20’s and in college or that he was ‘supposed’ to be out getting drunk at any chance he got. What was in the fun in waking up with a massive hangover, pounding headache and nauseated feeling the next day?

They were soooooo persistent, and Seungmin was growing mad. Usually, he would say no until the two boys gave up and went on their ways. But, for some reason, today they never gave up. Only continuing to badger, pester, poke and prod at their friend until the rubber band of usual his calm collective demeanor broke and all hell broke loose with it. With each playful shove, his anger only built, nearing the end of his rope, before he snapped. Seungmin was practically seeing red. He was livid.

“Maybe, I don’t go out because I DON’T FUCKING LIKE IT. I DON’T LIKE PARTIES AND CROWDS AND GETTING PLASTERED. I LIKE QUIET AND CALM AND DID YOU FORGET I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND BABY I GO HOME TO?! I KNOW YOU TWO LONELY FUCKERS DON’T HAVE SIGNIFICANT OTHERS OR BABIES TO LOVE ON, BUT I DO! AND I WANT TO BE HOME WITH THEM SO STOP FUCKING TRYING TO GET ME TO GO OUR AND FUCKING PARTY! IT’S NOT HAPPENING!” He snapped, shoving their hands off of him and storming away from them and towards your apartment building, still cursing under his breath. Hyunjin and Jisung’s jaws dropped, never having seen Seungmin so mad.

But, they were the ones to cause it.

Hopefully, the 10 minute walk to the apartment complex would cool him down. Maybe, feeling the wind blow through his soft brown locks, or the sun on his face or the slightly chilled breeze would help him relax. He didn’t want to return to your apartment, to you and your baby, with a sour attitude. So, picking out his airpods, he pushed them into his ears and hit shuffle on his playlist, already feeling slightly more calm.

When he was about 5 minutes away, he heard a soft ding play through his airpods, causing a brief and momentary pause in his music. It was a text from you, with a picture of your baby asleep on your chest, both of you clad in pochacco pajamas and a pochacco blanket strewn over you.

“Little pochacco is resting before papa gets home <3”

You had sent that text, albeit sleepily. Your fingers tiredly swiping over the keyboard, before you hit send and set your phone down. You, too, fell asleep waiting for Seungmin to come home.

Making his casual 10 minute walk to your apartment complex, he felt himself cooling off. But, he was still mad. He told Hyunjin and Jisung time and time and time again that no, he doesn’t like going out and partying. Why couldn’t they get it through their thick skulls and stop pestering him about it. Seungmin was never the one to go out and party, much preferring his peace and quiet.

Before he met you,while other college kids were partying, he would be in his dorm playing video games, or at quiet cafes with an iced americano or in the library studying. You were the same way, and in fact, that was how you met.

You were freshmen and it was a Friday night, and Seungmin had just entered the cafe he normally went to, and saw you sitting at a corner table, sipping an iced caramel latte with sweet cold foam and caramel drizzle, made with oat milk instead of dairy milk– which he came to know as your favorite drink and one he would order many many times in the future– perched in your hand. You were wearing a cute soft blue hoodie, the words “it’s okay” embroidered on the back, a pair of black leggings on your legs, white converse and baby blue fuzzy socks on your feet. He remembered how you had glasses perched on your nose, slightly falling as you read your book, and how your hair had tied up into a loose bun with a scrunchy.

Mostly, he remembered how nervous he felt when he saw you, the air having been knocked out of him when you caught him staring and gestured for him to come to your table. A soft smile on your face, you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Hi there….I’m y/n.” You had introduced yourself, a soft giggle leaving your pink glossed lips. “Hi. I-I’m Seungmin.” He stuttered back. From that day on, 4 years ago, you and Seungmin had become inseparable. So inseparable to the point that everyone on your campus knew you two as “Mr and Mrs.Kim”.

When you were pregnant, you two were always together. Finding out you were expecting was scary and you cried as you told Seungmin.The two of you were still in college, your futures not even started yet. “Minnie, I’m pregnant,” you cried, burying your face in his chest. “I know, baby. It’s going to be okay,” he shushed, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. Peeking up at him you sniffled, “w-what? What do you mean ‘you know?” He only chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Bubs, I know you like the back of my hand. We’ve been together for 4 years, I track your periods. I figured it out when your app said you were late.” Oh. You smiled up at him, soft sniffles still escaping your, “Oh, okay.” You, in the end, knew it would be okay. With Seungmin, it would always be okay.

As your pregnancy progressed, he was there through it all. Every craving, every bout of morning sickness, doctors appointment, parenting class, baby shower, gender reveal, every Braxton Hicks contraction. He was there through it all, and the same went for your labor and delivery. It was a long 25 hours, but he was there for it all. Letting you squeeze his hands as contractions ripped through your body. He saw you get the epidural, even though it scared him watching the doctors push the needle into your lower back. He held your leg as you pushed, he cried when the nurses announced your baby’s head was crowning and he sobbed when he heard the shrill cries of your newborn son and saw him be placed on your chest.

Finally approaching your apartment complex, he let himself in with his keycard and walked to the elevator. Going home to you and Min Jun, who was now 8 months old, was his favorite part of the day. Humming, he pressed the button that would carry him to the 3rd floor of the complex, where you and Min Jun would be. He was growing giddy as he stepped into the elevator, hearing soft music play as the electronic doors closed. The short minute and a half ride felt too long for him.

Smiling to himself, he saw the panel show that he reached the 3rd floor, and the doors opened. Almost home, he was almost home. Holding his key in his hand, he speed walked down the hall, his eyes beaming. Ah, his beloved apartment 306.

You and Seungmin had gotten your apartment a year into your relationship having decided that 1. Dorms sucked and 2. It would just be better to live together. You were always together so it just made sense. Plus, you and Seungmin preferred the quietness an apartment offered. Your apartment was the perfect mix of you and Seungmin’s personalities. It was cozy, homely, warm and inviting. The walls painted a creme color, soft creme colored furniture making itself home. The apartment always smelled of a soft vanilla scent, thanks to your candles or wax melts or baking.

Unlocking the door, he toed his outdoor shoes off in exchange for his pochacco slippers. He saw how the kitchen was clean, dishes washed and on the drying rack. Min Jun’s high chair sitting next to your small dining table. Smiling, he softly shut the door and left his backpack on the table. “Baby, pup, I’m home!” He called out, after shrugging his denim jacket off, and walked towards the living room.

He loved the living room, pictures of you, Seungmin and Min Jun adorning the walls. Your soft cream colored couch and recliner facing opposite the tv. On the couch were soft powder blue throw pillows that you picked out, claiming they “added a cozy touch.” There was a powder blue blanket laying over the back of the couch, added for cuddle sessions or just being chilly. Next to the couch was a cream colored round coffee table, with a lamp and framed picture of the three of you seated on it. In the space between was a cream colored coffee table. Littered with pictures, a baby bottle(usually), occasionally a random plate or mug. Then, there was the rug. Which shockingly was hard to find, some being too bad and some too small. You and Seungmin thought it would be easy to find, but it wasn’t. So, you two were elated, when you found that one. It was soft, plush and powder blue in a rounded square shape and the perfect size.

Then, some of his favorite pieces of furniture. Baby Min Jun’s play mat and tummy time area. Baby toys messily scattered around the floor. Both are pochacco themed, obviously. You and Seungmin often laid on the floor, playing with Min Jun, playing blocks with him, showing him baby books or just simply enjoying tummy time with him– you loved tummy time.

It was quiet when he called out, where he’d normally be met with a “Hi baby!” and baby giggles. Seungmin was confused, as he walked into the living room. Then, he saw you and Min Jun. The two of you asleep on your couch, you and your back with Min Jun laying on you. His cheek was pressed to your chest, pochacco pacifier nestled between his lips and a pochacco blanket laying over you two. It melted his heart. Seungmin knew you didn’t have classes that day, you never did on Fridays, and that meant a day of relaxing with your little pochacco.

With soft footsteps, he approached where you lay on the couch, you looked peaceful and content. He knelt down, placing a soft kiss to your forehead and gently swept a few stray hairs from your face. “Hey, lovebug. I’m home.” He whispered, the back of his knuckle grazing your cheek. His heart swelled, overcome with love at the sight of his girlfriend and son.

The sound of his voice woke you , causing you to softly whine, as your eyes fluttered open and fell upon the sight of your Seungmin. Yawning, you sleepily smiled at him, “hi Minnie,” you whispered, your hand securing a still sleeping Min Jun to your chest. “Hi my girl, you do anything fun ” he asked. Nodding, you rubbed your eyes with your spare hand before pecking his lips. You shook your head, feeling your little pochacco wiggle on your chest. “No, just cleaned and relaxed, waiting for you.” You answered.

Min Jun has always been a heavy sleeper. So, you and Seungmin never had issues with getting to sleep through the night. However, as heavy a sleeper as Min Jun is, he always could sense when mama or papa pochacco moved, arrived, or left. It was almost as if his mama and papa senses set off alarms in his little chubby 8 month old body; that told him something was adorable. You supposed that he got it from you and Seungmin. The two of you, also being able to sense any slight change in movement when it came to each other. It was the cutest thing, truly.

Seungmin had just placed a short quick kiss to your lips, before the sounds of soft whines and whimpers were escaping from Min Jun’s pouted ones. Chuckling, Seungmin kissed his forehead, smoothing the rustled soft black hairs on Min Jun’s head. “Ah, why is my pochacco whining?” Seungmin asked, as Min Jun’s eyes, identical, to his own, looked back at him. As if he were responding, Min Jun whined again, one of his chubby hands reaching out towards his papa pochacco, Seungmin.

Holding onto his papa’s finger, Min Jun blinked his big brown eyes up at Seungmin. Min Jun put Seungin’s finger in his mouth, the pacifier long forgotten. It was a sign that he was hungry and it made you giggle. It made Seungmin’s heart melt every time, looking at a miniature version of himself. Smiling, you patted Min Jun’s, pochacco onesie covered, bum and rubbed his back. “Are you hungry, my pochacco?” You asked, as he started gumming away at Seungmin’s finger. The feeling of his son’s wet, saliva covered, gums mouthing at his finger made him cringe– affectionately, of course. Nodding his head, Seungmin smiled and placed a soft kiss against Min Jun’s chubby cheek and made his way towards your kitchen.

Seeing his papa walk away caused Min Jun to whine, longing for more love from papa pochacco. “Baby, have you eaten yet?” Seungmin called out, already grabbing ingredients for ramyeon along with a bottle, jar of pureed apples and peaches and a pochacco spoon. “No, not yet, honey.” You called back, carefully moving yourself to sit up on the couch, cradling a still whining Min Jun to your chest. “I’m making some ramyeon with eggs, honey. Is that okay?” You heard Seungmin call out, as the scent of the broth wafted its way from your kitchen to the living room. Bouncing Min Jun on your lap, you smiled and held his hands so he could stand. “Yes, bub, that sounds yummy!” You replied, as Min Jun babbled and bounced on his legs. Babbling, Min Jun placed his hands on your cheeks, effectively squishing them together and causing you to purse your lips. As best as he could for being 8 months old, he pursed his own lips and pressed them against your own. “Mwah Mwah Mwah” you managed to get out, as he still had his hands on your face. He was all giggles, loving his mama’s kisses.

Being so enveloped by kissing your baby pochacco, you hadn’t heard Seungmin call out that lunch was ready. “Babe? Pup? Lunch is ready!” Seungmin called out, only to be met with no response and the sound of baby giggles. Setting the table, he placed your steaming bowls of ramen on the dining table. Chopsticks, broth spoons and glasses of juice set alongside. “Babe,” he called again, turning to grab the jar of baby food and spoon, setting them on the tray of Min Jun’s high chair. Again, no response.

Once the tables had been set, he walked back to the living room, his eyes landing upon the sight of you and Min Jun sharing sweet kisses. He smiled to himself, quietly padding along the floor, until he was standing by the arm of the couch that was closest to where you were sitting. Leaning down, Seungmin placed a kiss on your forehead, which startled you. “Babe, lunch is ready,” he called out, chuckling as you jumped back in your seat. “Oh, sorry Min. Pup was too busy giving mama kisses. Isn’t that right, my little pochacco?” You smiled, as Min Jun’s eyes shifted to where Seungmin stood he giggled, holding his little chubby arms out to him.

Scooping the 8 month old baby into his arms, Seungmin smiled and made the short walk back to the kitchen. You were following behind, smiling at the sight of Seungmin and Min Jun. ��Lunch time for you, huh bub. Are you hungry?” Seungmin smiled, as he placed the baby in his high chair, securing a (pochacco) bib around his neck. Pulling up a chair, Seungmin sat in front of the high chair, one hand holding the jar of food and the other holding the spoon. Turning to where you were sitting, Seungmin shot you a soft smile. “Babe, you go on and eat. I’ll feed the pup.” He said, carefully scooping an appropriate amount of food onto the spoon and lifting it to his son’s mouth. “Ah, say ah, bubba.” Seungmin cooed, watching Min Jun open his mouth, his lips enveloping the spoon. “Mmmmm, is it yummy, my little pochacco?” He crooned, as he continued feeding the baby.

You could only watch with love filled eyes. “The ramyeon is really good, babe. Good job.” You told Seungmin, as you picked up another bite of noodles with your chopsticks, softly blowing to cool them off before taking the bite in your mouth. “Thank you baby. Glad you like them,” he called back, still feeding Min Jun. Smiling, you move to sit next to Seungmin, carefully holding a bite of ramyeon to his mouth. “Open up, honey. You need to eat too.” You smiled, as his lips parted, exposing his beautiful smile and took the bite of food in his mouth. “Mh, thank you hon,” he said through chewing, a bit of broth dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Nodding, you smiled and continued to feed him and yourself as he fed Min Jun. “Of course, Minnie. What are we doing after this?” You pondered, seeing Min Jun get his baby food smeared around his mouth. Shrugging his shoulders, Seungmin carefully scooped the food from around the baby’s lips and fed it to him. “I don’t have anything planned. Was there anything you wanted to do, bub?” He asked, setting the now empty jar and spoon down.

You shook your head no. “Not really, maybe just go relax at the park or something later, the weather is nice.” You answered, as you and Seungmin had finished eating. Taking your dishes to the sink, you washed them clean of the food and set them in the drying rack. Seungmin had scooped Min Jun from his high chair and sat him on his lap, his small hands holding his bottle as he drank from it. Sitting down and leaning your head against his shoulder, you nuzzled into him. “The park sounds nice, honey girl.” Seungmin smiled, gently kissing your forehead. “The weather isn’t too cold,either.”

Nodding, you and Seungmin made separate ways to your rooms to get dressed. Taking Min Jun to his nursery, Seungmin laid him on the changing table. “Hm, what should we wear today, little pup?” He asked, already knowing it would be something pochacco themed. Smiling, he changed his baby’s diapers, holding his wriggly chubby legs still before sliding on a pair of baby sweatpants. He opted to go for a comfortable yet cute vibe. “So cozy, huh, bubbly?” He asked, as Min Jun looked back at him, with his brown brown eyes. “Alright, let’s get a shirt and hoodie on you. That sound good, pup?” Seungmin asked before carefully dressing him in a simple white tee shirt and a pochacco hoodie— of course with a little tail on the back and floppy black ears on its hood. “Now, for your little feet,” he cooed, kissing each of Min Jun’s feet before sliding a pair of white socks and little baby converse on his feet. “All done, my boy. Now, daddy has to get dressed.”

Meanwhile, you were in yours and Seungmin’s shared bedroom. You were humming to yourself, sliding into a pair of soft black leggings. “Hmmmm, what to wear, what to wear,” you thought aloud to yourself. Grabbing a powder blue shirt, you slipped it over your head and grabbed your hoodie. It was, also, powder blue and had a little pochacco printed on the chest area. It was well loved, and so oversized. That hoodie felt like home.

It was your favorite hoodie. Seungmin had gifted it to you on your three month anniversary, telling you “I noticed that powder blue is your favorite color, and pochacco is my favorite character. So….it’s perfect and I have a matching one. “ He blushed, watching as you hugged the hoodie to your chest.

Smiling, Seungmin had quietly slipped into your bedroom, Min Jun in his arms. “Still love that hoodie, don’t you baby?” He asked, setting Min Jun on the bed so he could also get dressed. Startled, you clutched your chest, turning to smile at your boyfriend. “Geez, Minnie. You scared me. But, yes, I still love this hoodie, it’s my favorite one,” you smiled, slipping socks and converse on your feet. “I know, I got you it, 4 years ago.” Seungmin laughed, changing into jeans and his matching hoodie. Not paying him any mind, you turned your attention to your baby. Picking him up, you smiled taking in his outfit. “Oh look at my little pochacco! Did daddy dress you! I know he did! My little cutie pie!” You cooed, as he giggled at you, his small hands waving in the air.

Not noticing that Seungmin had finished getting dressed, he called out. “Picture time!” He waved his phone, standing in front of your full length mirror. It was a tradition to snap a selfie of your outfits. “Smiling, you held Min Jun on your hip as you walked to where Seungmin was standing. Taking your place by his side, he slung his arm over your shoulders and you cuddled into his side, Min Jun balanced on your hip. “Smile!” He called, you two smiled, the shutter of his phone camera going off.

Once the picture was taken, you grabbed your purse and made your way to the kitchen, so you could get the baby bag and stroller ready. “We’ll be in the kitchen, honey. Don’t take too long.” You said. Quickly, he nodded and rushed to grab his keys and wallet. “Gotcha babe! Be right out,” he rushed as he slipped his feet into his shoes . Once he finished getting dressed, he looked at his phone, setting the new picture as his Home Screen and Lock Screen. Lowering his phone, he examined the picture and thought….

Diapers over clubs, any day

<3~ please do not repost (on any websites),copy, translate, modify, paraphrase or in any way claim my works <3~ AStraySimp est2023<3~

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okminer07 · 9 months ago

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A Match Beyond Measure Pt 2

(Name may be subject to change)

“Y-you… You’re the only one outside?”

“Far as I can tell, yeah.”

“Outside the Grounds and Sounds cafe?”

She waited with bated breath for his answer, that last damning piece of evidence, “Yeah, looks like it. Are you sure you’re alright?”

No, no she was not alright. She was anything but alright! The person outside was Garret, the giant outside was Garret! This whole time she had been talking with a giant! The giant outside was waiting for her!

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she sat there curled up on the floor. What was she supposed to do? Out of all the things that could have gone wrong!

“Uh hey, you still there?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, this time knowing the owner was looming right outside the door. Did he know? Did he know she was human? He couldn’t have. He sure acted like he was expecting someone… someone more like him.

What should she say? Did she really want to let him know? What would happen then? She shivered as hundreds of scenarios entered her mind all at once, all of which horrified her. But she had to say something! If she didn’t he’d remain standing out there and get more and more suspicious.

“Garret” she muttered, “I’m a…. The cafe you're standing in front of, that’s the cafe I work at.”

Silence on the other end.

“Wait what?” Cecilia couldn’t think of anything else to say, she was… she was-

Suddenly, the ground jerked so violently it catapulted Cecilia from her seat with a yelp. She caught herself before she could smack her head on the floor, releasing a shaky breath as everything went still. Her phone had been knocked out of her hand and was now lying on the floor, cracked. She grabbed it before rolling over and backpedaling back to her spot pressed up against the cabinets. After a few seconds of more silence, she slowly straightened her legs and pushed herself up, turning around as she did so.

Her heart nearly stopped. Outside, practically taking up the entire glass wall, was a face. A face turned sideways trying to peer in with two blue eyes the size of dinner plates. A massive hand was holding something that looked like a phone the size of a car against the side of his face. Garret’s face.

His eyes widened when they fell upon her. Cecilia watched his mouth fall open in shock, revealing massive teeth that she couldn’t help but imagine morphing into sharp fangs.

Just as soon as she had stood, she fell back to the ground, trembling, “Wait!” the shout reverberated through the walls. She snapped her eyes shut, clasping her hands over her ears. Just go away, her fingers clawing into her head and grabbing bits of her curly red hair, “Wait come back!”

She winced, squeezing her eyes even more shut. Just go away! She pleaded.

“Cecilia?”

Everything seemed to freeze once again. Her name rang in her ears. Garret’s voice rang in her ears, only not the thunderous one she’d heard moments ago, but the one she had gotten to know. Slowly, she let her hands slide off her face and into her lap, still shaking.

That had reminded her that this… this was Garret.

What difference does that make?! One side of her screamed, get out of here now!

She glanced to the door leading to the back and the back exit. If she was quick about it, she could slip out and run for it. But…. she looked at her phone, laying on the floor next to her. She couldn’t just do that, giant or not, he at least deserved an explanation.

But what if he got angry? She felt herself cringe at the thought of those huge features twisting into a visage of rage.

She hit herself, shaking her head. Stop it! Stop thinking like that! If you are anything close to a decent human being you will say something!

Her phone felt ten times as heavy as she picked it up and lifted it up to her ear.

“G-Garret?” she managed to mumble.

“Hey” his voice responded sheepishly, “Didn’t mean to scare you there, heh. This is just a little unexpected”

Cecilia let out a mumble of agreement.

“But uh hey, I could stop blocking the door and you can come on out and-”

“No!”

Cecilia slapped a hand over her mouth, looking down horrified.

There was an audible pause on the other end, “Is something wrong?”

How is he being so cool about all of this?!

“I uh….” she racked her brains for what to say, “It’s uh…”

“It’s not what?”

“It’s not your fault.” she blurted out.

Garret fell silent. Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad.

“What’s not my fault?”

“That I’m… that I’m-”

“I’m going to stop you right there” Cecilia went still, “I know this isn’t what you were expecting or what we had planned, but hey, I haven’t much experience being around humans but have always sort of wanted to”

Can’t say I feel the same way.

“There’s a restaurant a couple miles from here that’s got some of the best burgers I’ve ever had. If you want we could go and hit it up.”

She cringed, clearly he had no idea what she had meant before, and now she felt like she had dug herself into a deeper hole. Her lips were dry as she tried to come up with the right words, “T-the thing is, I’m…. not really….” She knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. What if he got offended? That was the last thing she wanted to do, for more selfish reasons if she was being honest.

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything, I just…. Your…. Your-” Just spit it out dammit! “Your kind make me feel uneasy”

Uneasy seemed like the most harmless word to use, but it didn’t at all really describe how she felt at all. She didn’t really even want to think of the words to properly describe it in case it just made those feelings worse.

“Uneasy?” Garret still sounded confused. Sheesh, he really hadn’t spent much time around humans. Uneasiness was said to be quite common in many folks when first interacting with the other kind, though they seemed to always get over it quite fast. Not Cecilia though, for some stupid ass reason that she didn’t know.

“I-I haven’t much experience around…. your kind either.”

“Well like I said, neither have I. It would be a fun first for both of us.”

Fun?!

She wasn’t sure what to say without the possibility of offending him. None of her words had really landed and he still seemed to have no idea what she was getting at. The hallway leading to the back and by extension, the backdoor was starting to look really appealing.

If she was careful… if she was quiet…. Her bike was chained up to a pipe right out back. If she could make it out there without being seen, she’d be out of this mess. She’d be able to ride back to her apartment, explain herself to him over text instead of…. Instead of… right now and…. Right here.

Pocketing her phone, which was still on the line, she unfolded her legs and began to crawl towards the back. A couple of cups and bottles of flavoring had fallen and shattered to the floor, she maneuvered past them so as not to get sliced in the knee and cry out. When she made it to the back hallway, she pressed herself against the wall. She stiffened when she felt her phone vibrate and the vague sound of Garret’s voice. Ignoring it, she continued to crawl the length of the hallway, the backdoor always in front of her, teasing her.

After what felt like an eternity of slinking along the tiled floor, her nose was inches away from the door. She looked over her shoulder before standing up and fumbling with the door knob. The creaky old door seemed louder than ever as it hinges squealed. She cringed, pushing it all the way open and stepping out. Her bike was on the left, chipped blue paint looking more beautiful than ever before.

She scrambled over to it, grabbing the bike lock and frantically clicked in the code. The lock snapped open and she didn’t hesitate to pull it away from the building and mount it. She began to pedal, her eyes fixated on the thin alley across the street that she had always used as a shortcut to her complex.

Suddenly, she heard movement. The rustle of fabric and a low grunt right before a growing shadow appeared feet in front of her. She had but a millisecond to turn her bike harshly to the left before something bigger than a decent sized car crashed down in front of her, the impact throwing her off her bike and sending her skidding across the pavement. The ground rocked once more before everything stilled.

Cecilia groaned, her elbows and calves burning from being dragged across the ground.

“Shit!” she froze as that same deep voice rumbled from far above her. She didn’t want to look up, but her body at that moment seemed to be on autopilot as her neck strained to look upwards.

Her eyes widened, a mountain of mass stood before her, reaching at least forty meters in height. Her mouth went completely dry when her eyes met with two familiar blue eyes, staring down at her.

She quickly looked back down, only to be met with the sight of those massive shoes only about two feet away from her.

“You alright?” Cecilia flinched at the voice, “That looked pretty rough.”

“I….I…” her lips quivered.

“Why’d you come out this door? I could have moved out of-'' he paused, Cecilia tentatively looked back up to see the eyes of the giant before her narrow. ��You cold or somethin’? You’re uh…” he chuckled, “You’re shaking.”

To her horror, the enormous body before her started to get closer, bending down and taking up more of her vision if that was even possible. Her arms shot out in front of her, instinctively shielding herself. The movement around her stopped. She looked up to see Garret straighten back up, his eyes wide before something seemed to click in his brain.

“Is it me?”

#male giant #g/t #g/t writing #Garret is the ultimate bimbo.#a match beyond measure

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chuuwey · 2 hours ago

Text

Your Apartment

Genere: fluff

theme: neighbors to lovers

parings: Jisung x shy fem reader , best friend Renjun x fem reader

warnings: nones

authors note: this was requested, i hope you enjoy :D

You had always been the quiet one, blending into the background of your city apartment building. But you had a secret—you’d been having the biggest crush on your neighbor, Jisung, since the moment you first saw him. He had so much going on: charming, easygoing, and always quick with a laugh. Every time you ran into each other in the elevator or the laundry room, you’d freeze up, heart pounding, unable to get past a simple “hi.”

Your best friend Renjun, on the other hand, was her polar opposite—outgoing, a little dramatic, and never afraid to stir things up. When you finally broke down and told him about her massive crush on Jisung over coffee, Renjun practically choked on his drink.

“You mean Jisung from 12B? The tall, goofy one with the cute smile? You’ve been holding this in the whole time?!”

You nodded, cheeks flaming. “What was I supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, I’ve been awkwardly pining for you for months’?”

Renjun rolled his eyes and leaned forward. “No, but you’re not going to sit here and do nothing. You’ve got to make a move. Bake him cookies, write a note, I don’t care—just do something!”

That’s how you found yourself standing in the lobby a few days later, holding a plate of still-warm cookies and silently praying you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. Just as you were about to bail, the elevator doors opened, and there he was. Jisung, with his signature smile and messy hair, stepping out like it was a scene from a rom-com.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” he greeted you casually, not knowing that your heart was in full meltdown mode.

“H-Hi! I, uh…” you shoved the plate toward him. “I made these for you. I mean, not for you—okay, kind of for you. I just thought you might like them.”

Jisung blinked, clearly surprised, before his face broke into the warmest smile you’d ever seen. “Wow, thanks! That’s so nice of you. These look amazing.”

He stayed and chatted with you right there in the lobby, asking about your day and cracking a few jokes that made you laugh so hard you forgot how nervous you’d been. For the first time, it felt easy, like you weren’t just two neighbors exchanging polite hellos.

Over the next few weeks, things shifted. Jisung started texting you little things like, “Thanks again for the cookies, they were so good ” or “Hey, want to grab coffee later?” And just like that, you went from awkward elevator greetings to spending time together.

One night, you both ended up on the rooftop of your building, looking out at the city lights. You could feel your pulse racing as you debated whether to say something. Renjun’s words echoed in your head: *“You’ve got to make a move.”*

So you did.

“Jisung,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “I like you. Like… a lot. You’re kind, funny, and you make me feel like I can actually be myself. I’ve felt this way for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to tell you.”

For a second, you thought you had messed up. Jisung just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But then, he smiled, soft and sincere and said, “You’re kidding, right? Y/N, I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever. You’re amazing.”

From that moment on, things just clicked. You started spending more time together, whether it was exploring the city, binge-watching you’re favorite shows, or just hanging out in the lobby where it all began. Jisung made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had, and you finally let go of the shyness that had held you back for so long.

And Renjun? He never let you forget he was the one who pushed you to make a move. “I expect a toast at your wedding,” he teased one day.

You just laughed, knowing that, somehow, everything had fallen into place.

#nct #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct u #jisung #park jisung #renjun #nct dream #haechan #mark lee #jeno #chenle #jaemin #johnny suh #hendery #wayv #winwin #kim jungwoo #jisung x reader

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crazyunsexycool · 2 years ago

Note

Imagine some new girl starting with the avengers as the same job role reader did, but she's on maternity leave as she's just had her and Bucky's first baby. This new girl has a massive crush on Bucky and flirts with him. One day reader brings Lottie and the baby to see everyone and when alone the new girl says something like "why are you parading Lottie around like she's yours when she's not" and says things that are untrue about Bucky, making out he flirts with her etc. And Bucky overhears the whole thing... his reaction? 👀👀👀

Oh get ready for this!

Warning:ANGSTY upset Charlotte, upset reader, insults, crying, babies, mentions of post baby bod, insecure reader

A/N Well this got out of hand quickly. I hope you like it

You wanted to surprise the team with a visit from you and the kids. Lottie walked beside the stroller holding your newborn as you made your way into the compound. You were currently in maternity leave which was wonderful but also could feel very lonely, especially when Bucky had been called back in before he was supposed to. It sometimes left you feeling lonely and in need of grown up interactions. But you couldn’t really complain, your newborn son was a joy and Charlotte was a wonderful big sister.

Once you were inside the familiar compound hallways you’d asked Friday where the team was and you were directed to one of the many living rooms.

“Daddy!” Charlotte exclaimed as she ran towards Bucky.

“Doll, what are you doing here?” He wrapped her in his arms and peppered kisses on her face. Lottie giggled as she tried to push him away.

“Hey, guys.” You say from the entryway.

“I call first dibs on holding my nephew.” Sam practically yells.

Everyone got up from their seats and walked over to you and the baby. Steve wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side. This is what you’d missed so much and you’re glad you decided to drop by.

“Well look at you, thank goodness you look like your mama.” Sam coos at the curious baby in his arms.

“Let me see him.” Nat pushes her way through Clint and Tony to stand besides Sam. He reluctantly hands over the band to Nat and everyone groans, the know she won’t let him go until you leave.

“Hey sugar,” he wraps his free arm around your waist and pulls you to his side, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m so happy you dropped by.”

“Well I missed you and the team. But mostly you.”

“Can we go play outside uncle Stevie?” Lottie looks up at Steve with her big blue eyes and there’s no way he’ll say no.

“You heard my princess gentlemen. Outside lets go!” Steve grabs her hand and everyone starts to head out ready to do whatever she wanted.

“Daddy are you coming?”

He looks at her and back at you unsure of what to do but you push him in her direction.

“Go, I wanted to go say hello to Helen anyway.”

“Alright see you later.” He kisses your cheek and disappears.

“Will you be alright?”

“Go, we’ll be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

You walk into the lab where Helen spent most of her time but find it empty so you head further in and towards the back where she usually likes to sit. With no sign of her you decided to turn back and go hang out with Nat. You hear the door open so you call out.

“Helen is that you?”

“Who are you?” A young woman asked as she made her way towards you.

She was pretty, a few years younger than you. She had long blond hair and she was on the petite side. You recognized her immediately, Bucky had told you she would be the team’s field medic while you were on maternity leave.

“Im Y/N Barnes. I was looking for Helen. Do you know where she is?”

Her hazel eyes moved up and down your body before her face scrunched up in a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

“You’re Bucky’s wife?”

“Yes, and you are?”

“Stacy Moore, you’re replacement.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lottie convinced the boys to play hide and seek. It was unfair, they were all to broad and bulky so their hiding places were limited, especially outside. But she was their sweet Angel so they played anyway. That was until Lottie ran crying toward Bucky.

His heart stopped and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The only thing that got him moving was her calling out for him. Bucky’s knees hit the floor in front of his girl and he immediately started checking for any cuts or scratches but she touched her head.

A vision.

She had gotten really good at breathing through them and explaining what she saw. It had been a while since she cried because of one.

“Daddy pwease don’t send me away. Pwease daddy. I’m good I pwomise.” She threw her arms around his neck as the others ran to see what was wrong.

“Doll let me look at you.” Bucky was able to pull back enough to see the red rimmed eyes of his little girl. “What makes you think I’d send you away?”

“The l-lady said i-it. I wanna stay daddy.” She choked out in between sobs. Bucky looked up at the others feeling helpless.

“What lady, princess?”

“Stacy. She told mommy you don’t love us. And that you want to send me away. And that mommy is not (r)weally my mommy.”

“Oh doll, that’s not true,” Bucky tried to calm her down as he stood. “I love you and mommy and your brother so much. Can you tell me where you saw mommy?”

She nods. “In Dr. Helen’s lab. Mommy is sad too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh you’re covering while I’m on maternity leave.” You said, but there was something about the say she said replacement that didn’t sit well with you.

“Something like that.” She pursed her lips as she thought about how to hurt you. Stacy had her eyes on Bucky for the last few weeks and although she tried and failed to flirt with him. He wouldn’t even glance her way and she hated it. “You could say we’ve gotten really close recently. And after seeing you I can see why.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, it’s been what like 2 months since you’ve had your kid and you still look like a cow? No wonder he’s been flirting so much.”

“He does what?” You didn’t want to believe it and your wrap your arms around your midsection. You’d barely lost any of the baby weight but Bucky had assured you he loved you just the way you were. Saying that there was you had never looked more beautiful.

“And come on, you come in here parading around his daughter like if she was yours, you really have some nerve. He never even wanted to keep her but you just had to use her to get your hands on him. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about Bucky or our family.” You say through gritted teeth as you fought back tears that threatened to spill.

“Why, scared of hearing the truth? He told me he wanted to send Charlotte away so that he didn’t have to deal with her anymore. That he feels too tied down, he never wanted any of this but you didn’t give him a choice. How can you not see that he doesn’t love you?” She shrugs her shoulders.

She opens her mouth to insult you further but the door slams against the wall and Bucky rushes in. His worried eyes meet yours and he knows he was too late. Whatever she’s said has clearly affected you and he wanted to rip her to shreds.

“Get the fuck away from my wife.” Bucky growled at her. He stood face to face with her, his anger so raw and overflowing even you flinched when he spoke. “I don’t know what I have to do to make you understand I want nothing to do with you. She,” he pointed at you. “Is the only woman I have and will ever love. She is the mother of both my children and she has nothing to prove to someone like you. And if making my wife upset wasn’t enough you made my daughter cry because she thinks I’m locking her away somewhere.”

Stacy stood there, frozen in fear as she looked up at Bucky. “I-I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“I don’t give a shit.”

Nat, who you didn’t realized had walked in with Bucky as well as Steve and Tony, grabbed her by her arm and yanked her. They were all angry.

“Say goodbye to the avengers and any posibilites if ever working in the medical field.” Steve said as he followed them out.

“You’ll be lucky if you can even by a slutty nurses costume by the time I’m done with you.” Tony added.

Bucky waited until they were gone before he turned to you. His eyes softened immediately and he cautiously walked towards you. But you wouldn’t look at him. You didn’t know what to think about the whole situation.

“How did you know?” You whisper.

“Lottie had a vision. She’s really upset and said you were too. I’m so sorry sugar. I promise nothing ever happened between Stacy and me. I always asked Steve to pair her with someone else because there was something about her I didn’t like.”

“Do you feel trapped? In this marriage and with the kids?”

Bucky scoffed, he didn’t mean to but that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“Are you kidding me sweetheart? I wanna have a lot more kids with you.” He finally puts a finger under your chin and forced you to look at him while his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “I was never truly free until I found you. And you gave me the one thing that I never thought I deserved, a family.” And then his lips were on yours gently. He told you everything he couldn’t put into words with that kiss.

“Let’s get our babies and lets go home, please.” You said after you pulled back breathless. There were still tears in your eyes and all you wanted was to be cuddled up with your three loves.

“I like the sound of that sugar.”

#my little love ask #my little love drabble #val answers #you’ve got mail 💌

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stargazer-sims · 1 year ago

Text

The Art of Redemption

(Part 4)

previous // next // story index

———

"How're you holding up, kid?"

Beth-Anne wraps both hands around the extra-large takeaway coffee cup and closes her eyes, concentrating on the soothing heat working its way into her fingers. She and Stan are in the corridor outside Nikolai's hospital room. It's eight in the morning, and the hospital staff have just finished bringing breakfast around to all the patients.

From inside the room, Beth-Anne can hear Ginger coaxing Nikolai to eat his oatmeal, "Because if you don't eat it, I will. Carbs be damned."

She sighs. "I'm okay, I guess."

"Now, remember who you're talking to," Stan says.

She lets another sigh escape, opens her eyes and raises her gaze to meet his. "I'm tired."

"You should go home and try to get some rest."

"I can't," she says. "I promised Nikolai I wouldn't leave him."

"Ginger and I can stay with him for a while. He won't be alone."

"But, what about Ginger's ice time?" she protests. "I mean, she qualified for Worlds. That date will be coming up faster than you realize."

"What do I always say? People before practice." He smiles. "That's why you asked me to get in touch with Brett and Mariah about their ice time today, isn't it?"

With a stab of guilt, she realizes she'd momentarily forgotten about Mariah and Brett. "I need to call them myself. I should apologize. And I'll have to call little Eden's parents too. He's got a thing next weekend that we're supposed to be getting ready for."

"You should call them," Stan agrees. "But, you shouldn't apologize. Just explain what's happening. They'll understand."

"Brett qualified for Junior Worlds," she says, half to herself. "Damn it! That's only—"

"Beth-Anne.” Stan holds up a hand. “Brain open, mouth closed."

"You haven't said that to me in..."

"A long time," he inserts quickly. "But it seems like you need it at the moment."

"You're right. I do."

"I put up a notice about your group lessons before I came over here, so that's taken care of," he says. "Now, listen to me for a minute. A missed day of training or two isn't going to hurt Brett at this point. If he's not ready for Junior Worlds by now, he's not ready for Junior Worlds. Understand?"

She nods. "I see what you mean."

"And if you're worried about me and Ginger, I can tell you a day off isn't going to harm her chances either. Besides, do you really think her heart would be in it today anyway, with her best friend in the hospital?"

"No, I suppose not," Beth-Anne concedes.

She sips her coffee. From behind the partially-closed door of the room, Nikolai's voice drifts out. "Ginger! Oh my God... stop. My hands still work, you know. I can feed myself."

This is followed by laughter from Ginger. "There. Mission accomplished! If I couldn't badger you into eating, I knew I could manipulate you into it."

Nikolai makes a strangled noise, as if he's trying not to laugh and inadvertently spit out a mouthful of oatmeal in the process. He sputters, coughs and then declares, "You are the living end, Vivienne Holmes."

She replies mildly, "Finish your breakfast, Nikolai."

Beth-Anne smiles, her worry easing slightly. Nikolai seems more like himself this morning, and it's clear that Ginger's presence is doing him good. He always seems to be happier and more relaxed when Ginger is around.

Perhaps Stan is right. Maybe it would be okay to leave for a couple of hours. She could go home, clean up the kitchen, and get the downstairs bedroom ready for Nikolai. She might even do a quick grocery run.

Peanut butter, she tells herself. She'll have to remember to get peanut butter when she goes to the supermarket. She rarely eats it herself, but Nikolai's taste for it has practically reached legendary status at this point, thanks in no small part to a handful of sports reporters at Skate America a few years back. The figure skating world had laughed collectively when a photo of Nikolai skating around at practice with a massive jar of peanut butter the girls had given him appeared in several online publications with the dubious tagline 'Peanormous'.

All Beth-Anne could do when she'd seen it was shake her head. The random nonsense regularly generated by Nikolai and his friends had been one of her biggest frustrations at the time. Now, she finds herself wishing for those times to come back. Some weird condiment-related publicity would be mild in comparison to what they're facing at the moment.

Beside her, Stan idly swirls his cold brew with the straw that's sticking out of it. Even in the dead of winter, he loves his cold drinks.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"Too much, honestly," she answers. "How the hell did we get here? I mean, not that I begrudge Nikolai anything. I love him like he's mine, but how is it that I'm the one who's taking care of him? It's not as if his real family doesn't know what's going on. And where the fuck is Anya when he needs her?"

"You're angry," he observes.

"Damn straight," she says. 'Do you know, that woman had the audacity to kick me out of their house because she said I was hurting Nikolai? And then what does she do? She runs off and leaves him completely alone for three days. He fell down the goddamned stairs, Stan! Because she put his crutches upstairs and out of reach. And I'm supposed to be the one who's hurting him?"

Stan frowns. "That's not good."

"That's an understatement."

"Even so, you know it's none of your business. Their marital troubles, I mean."

"I think it became my business when he phoned me in the middle of the night, sobbing and telling me he didn't want to be here any more," she says. "I was terrified. I think I broke every speed limit on the way over there, and when I got there and saw the mess he was in and realized he was on his own—"

She has to stop and take a deep breath to calm herself. She's still not over what happened last night.

"Okay, yes. I suppose that part is your business now," Stan concedes. "But their marriage still isn't."

"You know what?" she says. "I honestly don't care about their marriage, if you can even call that fucked-up situation a marriage. Do I think he'd be better off if they weren't together? Hell yeah. And do I wish she'd stay far away from him? Yes I do, but I'm not going to interfere. I have enough on the go without intentionally looking for trouble."

"Good." Stan nods. "Stay out of it as much as you're able to. But just so you know, I think you're doing the right thing by taking him in."

"Thanks. It feels right."

"It's probably not going to do much for your love life, though."

Beth-Anne snorts and nearly spits out a mouthful of coffee. "Jesus, Stan! Where did that come from?"

"What?" His attempt at feigning innocence is an utter failure.

"You think I've had a woman in my bed lately? I'll probably have better luck catching one with Nik there than without him."

"Oh?" He quirks an eyebrow. "Came for the boy, stayed for the girl?"

She groans. "Oh my God. I know what comes next. Don't even say it."

He says it anyway, deadpan. "Came for the girl."

She laughs out loud. The emotional release is unexpected, and most of the tension leaves her body all at once. It feels good, but unfortunately it also clears the way for her to grasp exactly how wiped out she is. Suddenly, she wants nothing more than to go home, take a hot bath and then crawl into bed.

But, she can't do that. Not yet, anyway.

Stan is watching her. "Better?"

"Sort of. You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I don't know why you have to ask," he says. "You know I did."

"Because you thought I needed it?"

"Didn't you?"

"How is it even possible that you know me better than I know myself?" she wonders aloud. "You always know what to do."

"Not always, but I try," he says. "So, what's your plan?"

"For right now, you mean?" she says. "If you or Ginger can stay here for a couple hours, I'll go home and straighten the place up a bit."

"Okay," he says. "I can stay, and I'm sure Ginger won't mind staying."

"Thanks."

"You want to go in and tell him now?"

"Yeah," she replies. "No time like the present, I guess."

When they enter the room, they find Nikolai and Ginger both sitting on the bed. He's finished his breakfast, and the two of them are huddled together, looking at a sports magazine Ginger brought for him. She'd obviously smuggled in some candy for him as well. The obnoxiously bright plastic bag is open and resting on the leg of one of them or the other. It's a little hard to tell exactly which, since they're so close to each other and Ginger is tucked under the thin hospital blanket too. Beth-Anne notices Ginger's shoes on the floor beside the bed.

Both skaters look startled and guilty when they notice their coaches' presence in the room. Ginger palms the bag of Jelly Fruit and attempts to conceal it beneath the blanket.

Stan clears his throat in a deliberate and exaggerated way. "Are we interrupting something here?"

This is met by an an awkward, "Uh..." from Nikolai.

Almost simultaneously, Ginger responds with, "Ah, no... not really?"

"You two have been trouble since the day I met you," Stan says, but there's no trace of annoyance or anger in his voice, only fondness and slight exasperation. "I hope you read the label before you started filling yourself with those sweets, Ginger."

Ginger holds up two fingers. "We've only had two pieces each. Right, Nik?"

Nikolai's voice says "Right," but his expression says something else entirely, and Beth-Anne doesn't need to be a mind reader to know both of them have had more than two candies each. Part of her wants to admonish Nikolai out of habit, but she lets it go. He can eat whatever he wants, now that he's not competing.

The reality of that hits her like a sudden punch in the gut, and she fights to keep from showing it on her face. She conjures up a smile somehow, and echoes Stan's sentiment. "Goddamned troublemakers, the pair of you."

"But you still love us, don't you?" Ginger says.

"Of course we do," says Stan. "But that doesn't mean you're not a pain in the ass. No more candy today. Understand?"

She grins at him. "There's always tomorrow."

Stan makes a gesture of surrender. "I give up."

There's movement under the blanket and then Nikolai's hand emerges with the bag of candy. "I guess the rest of these are mine."

He glances at Beth-Anne as if seeking permission, and she spreads her arms in the same way Stan had done. "I can't stop you, can I?"

"Boo," Ginger says. "You know those are my favourite."

"I'll owe you a bag," Nikolai tells her. "In the off-season, we'll sneak off somewhere and eat as much junk food as we want. I'll get you some of these, and I won't even make you share."

"We'll pretend we didn't hear that," Stan says.

There's an uncomfortable lull in the conversation following that. Nikolai and Ginger both understand the boundaries their coaches have set for them. He leans over and places the bag of candy on the tray table next to his empty breakfast dishes. As soon as he settles back into his original position. Ginger reaches for his hand, and they intertwine their fingers.

On the first day she'd met them, they'd done that after being scolded, Beth-Anne recalls. She can still picture them as they were back then, two hyperactive teenagers; Ginger with her easy laugh and boundless energy, and Nikolai with his mischievous little grin and propensity for unexpected hugs. It's hard to believe that was ten years ago. She's watched them change and grow in so many ways, but even after a decade, some things about them haven't changed at all.

As she observes Nikolai and Ginger, she tries to think of the gentlest way to tell Nikolai she's leaving. He seems to be in good spirits at the moment, but she's concerned his mood is tenuous, and she doesn't want to upset him.

She puts her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and shifts most of her weight off her bad leg. Her hip is throbbing dully. It's not overwhelmingly painful, and she knows it's nothing that an ibuprofen tablet won't cure, but it's screwing up her concentration and making her unable to come up with anything that doesn't sound either scripted or patronizing.

Damn it... I just need to hold myself together for a little longer. I need to get out of here with no fuss, and then I can crash when I get home.

Nikolai, sensitive and perceptive as ever, evidently takes notice of her change in posture. He says tentatively, "Beth-Anne, are you okay?"

"I'm good," she says. "My hip's aching a little, that's all. Sign of old age, I guess."

"That's not true. You're not old." He chews on his lower lip as his gaze travels around the room and eventually comes to rest on the plastic chair. He stares at it for a second or two, and then says quietly. "Oh my God. It's that chair. You sat there all night, didn't you? It's my fault. I'm sorry. I didn't realize—"

"No. It's okay," she says, wanting to forestall the rising panic she can hear in his voice. "I actually didn't sit there all night. I was walking around a lot. Don't worry. It's not your fault."

"Maybe... maybe you should go home and rest."

"Are you sure?" she asks. She hadn't expected him to suggest that she leave, but she's grateful he's the one to have brought it up. She won't worry less about leaving him, but at least this way she thinks she'll feel far less guilty.

"I don't want you to go, but I don't want you to stay here if you're in pain either." He shakes his head. "This is so messed up."

"It's not messed up," she says. "Some over-the-counter pain medication will fix everything."

"That's not what I mean," he says. "I don't know why I'm like this. Like, a minute ago, I thought I was fine, but now I'm... not sure. Not scared, exactly, but… anxious?"

"Why are you anxious?" she asks.

"I don't know why. It's like, I'm scared that if you leave, something bad is going to happen, but I don't know what and I don't even know why I think that. It makes no sense. It's..." He lets the sentence fade, unfinished, and lowers his eyes. "Sorry."

"it's okay, sweetheart. You don't need to be sorry," Beth-Anne steps forward to hug him, and he hangs onto her as tightly as he had the night before, when she'd first found him in his front hallway.

"If you leave, you'll still come back later, right?"

"Yes, probably around lunchtime. Ginger and Stan are going to hang out with you for a while, and by the time I get back, maybe the doctor will be ready to let you go."

"What if he doesn't let me go by lunchtime?"

"Then I'll stay with you until he does, but I can't see him keeping you much longer. He only wanted you to be here for observation, likely just until the medication wore off."

"I think it's worn off already," he says.

"If you think you need something else, you can ask the nurse."

"I can't," he practically whispers.

"If you can't ask by yourself, I'll help you," Stan intervenes. "Why don't you let Beth-Anne go and take care of whatever she needs to do? Ginger and I can look after you in the meantime."

"That's right," Ginger adds. "And if it's cuddling you're looking for, you know I'm brilliant at that. Hugs before drugs."

Stan makes a nondescript noise that might be the offspring of a laugh and a grunt, and says to no one in particular. "This is the child I've raised."

Ginger laughs. "You've done well, Stan. I wouldn't be who I am today without you."

Nikolai hesitates, but finally acquiesces and releases Beth-Anne from his almost desperate hold. "Okay," he says. "You can go now, but you have to promise you'll come back."

"I promise I will," Beth-Anne assures him. "Is there anything you want me to get from your house while I'm out?"

"I don't know. My glasses and my toothbrush. A change of clothes. I can't think of anything else right now."

"That's fine," she says. "That should get you through the rest of the day anyway. Tomorrow, I can take you over there and help you pack up anything else you're going to need at my place. Sound good?"

He nods. "Yeah. Thank you."

Satisfied for the moment that Nikolai is in safe hands, Beth-Anne says farewell and makes her way out of the hospital as quickly as she can, before she changes her mind about it.

She doesn't know how she and Nikolai are going to cope over the next few days, but she insists to herself that they'll get through it just like they've gotten through every other difficult situation they've encountered so far. She wants to be optimistic, telling herself that once Nikolai has been in a safe, stable environment for a while, he'll be less clingy and scared, and he'll start to feel better.

Staying occupied will help too, she thinks. She'll have to come up with some ideas to keep him busy until he's ready to venture out into the world again, because she certainly won't have him sitting around on the couch all day doing nothing and sinking deeper into the chasm of depression, hopelessness and self-pity. When he's able to be up and around... Well, she knows exactly how she's going to occupy him then, and she's already resolved not to take no for an answer.

The biggest problem she hasn't devised a solution for at this point is Anya. She has no clue where Anya is, whether or not she'll be back, or whether she'll want to see Nikolai if she does return. One thing she is reasonably certain about however, is that if Anya comes back and discovers Nikolai isn't at home, Beth-Anne's home is the first place she'll look for him.

Beth-Anne has absolutely no intention of letting Anya into her house. She knows she can't stop Nikolai from seeing his wife if he wants to, and she'd already told Stan that she doesn't plan on interfering in their marriage, but there's no way in hell she'll allow a potential confrontation between them to take place under her roof.

She'll have to discuss everything with Nikolai when he's feeling up to it, she concludes. He may say he doesn't want to see Anya at all, and that would make the solution a simple one, but she suspects it's not going to be that straightforward.

Nothing's ever easy, is it? says a little voice in the back of her mind.

No, most things aren't, she concedes, but she knows from experience there are outcomes that are worth the effort and people who are worth making an effort for. Stan likes to say 'people before practice', and Beth-Anne believes wholeheartedly in that.

People before almost everything else, because other than the basic necessities of survival, nothing matters more than people and the connections they build in one another's lives.

#writing #the art of redemption #theartofredemption #nikolai pavlenko #beth-anne jones #stan kovac #ginger holmes #stargazersims

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tarabyte3 · 2 years ago

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I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 21/27 (3.4k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst, orgasm denial, humiliation, slut shaming, references to domestic abuse, discussion of domestic abuse, minor violence, discussion of violence, description of violence

A/N: This chapter was supposed to have 2 scenes because I thought the first one was too short to post as its own chapter (it wasn't 🤦🏻‍♀️). Unfortunately the second scene is one I want to get right, so it was slowing the whole thing down. Instead I split them up again so you all have something while I work on the massive endeavor that has become chapter 22. Enjoy! Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Pyrokinesis" by 7Chariot. Chapter navigation above.

AO3 Link

Chapter 21 - You're setting me on fire, I don't wanna fight it. You don't need a lighter, you're a flame.

Finding Taybus isn't difficult. It's finding Taybus alone outside of your shift that's hard. He's always with Vage. And while you're excited for him because he's clearly gotten past his awkwardness and fear and is happy, you also feel a stab of jealousy. Because he's able to spend so much time with Vage. Can stand close to him, bow his head in secrecy and whisper, stare at him in adoration when he laughs at a joke, not have to worry about stares or favoritism or jobs.

It doesn't feel good to remember you can't have that. It especially doesn't feel good to be jealous that your friend can. Because he deserves that. He's so young. He's missing out on dating and making mistakes and figuring himself out and living because he's stuck in there. He deserves a reprieve and to feel his age. To have one spot of joy when he tentatively rests his hand on Vage's forearm, and Vage blushes so hard the pink of his cheeks is visible on his tanned skin.

Then you remember you get to spend part of your evenings with Kino in your bed and between your legs. Get to feel his bare skin against yours however you wish as he buries himself in you, and you exhale his name like a prayer. And he doesn't hold your hand, but he holds your throat, your hair, your hip. That's better, you think, because it's not holding back. It's not the only affection he's allowed to show you.

Suddenly your own prospects don't seem so bad.

You're interrupted from your discreet staring by Threl stepping up beside you.

"Feeling social?" He teases.

"Something like that," you give him a quick, wry glance out of the corner of your eye. Then Taybus laughs and your face softens. "He seems happy."

"He does, doesn't he?" Threl follows your line of sight to where Taybus is practically gleeful as Vage talks excitedly about something you can't hear at this distance. "Thanks to you, you know."

"Vage was already interested. I barely had to do anything," you shrug. "I merely gave him a push."

"Don't down play it," he scolds you. "You and Alis stepped up for him in a way I don't think anyone ever had before."

"I'm just sorry he had to go to prison to finally get that when he should've had it already. He deserved to have it, and it isn't fair he didn't," you lament.

Threl turns his head to stare at you. "You're a bit maudlin this evening."

"I'm actually in a good mood, I swear," you chuckle. "I had a great talk with Sorrek. Got me thinking about my own parents. So maybe a bit maudlin."

"Oh, you two finally work things out?" He sounds cautiously optimistic.

"Yeah." You finally pull your attention away from the new couple. "He opened up to me about his past and apologized for the misunderstanding. It was hard to stay mad at him after that."

Threl looks impressed. "I imagine so. He tell you about his daughter?"

"He did," you sigh heavily. "I had guessed he had kids, but I never would have guessed half of that. I mean it's Sorrek." You shake your head. "He's a good man."

"He sure is," he says quietly.

"I actually came out here to check on Taybus. I haven't gotten any updates on 'operation get the kid laid' recently, but I can see things are going well."

"They've been like that for a few days now. I couldn't tell you if there are any new updates because I try to give them privacy, but if there aren't, there will be soon." He gives them a meaningful look just as Vage bumps Taybus with his shoulder and smiles shyly up at him.

"Poor kids can't even make out in peace," you mumble. "What are the odds everyone would let them hide at the end of the hallway and just…not watch?"

"You know, I've been thinking about that, actually."

"About getting them to make out? Because if you have a plan, I'm onboard." You lean in conspiratorially.

"Or a way to let them."

"I'm still listening."

"I couldn't fall asleep the other night so I ended up just staring over the side of my bed, and…" He looks around to see if anyone is paying attention. "How do they fry two people in a cell if they aren't touching the floor?"

You tilt your head in interest. "What do you mean?"

"The panels," he gestures to the cell you're both standing near and takes a step towards it, "they're only visible on the floor, and I don't think there are any in the bench or the bed. They're that same thick polycarbonate composite material the walls and work tables are made out of. Which could theoretically be conductive with the right filler, but I've seen people touch the walls and tables when the floors are activated, and they don't react to those. Only the floor panels. And the resistance of plastic means the panels wouldn't be as effective when layered underneath because everything in here has to be very thick to be durable enough to last. It might not stop or kill someone like they would intend, and that would be a big risk I don't think they would be willing to take. In fact, the bed even has the mattress as an extra layer of insulation." He turns to give you a meaningful look. "They're relying on the floors, but you can't fry if you're not touching them."

"So. You think you can get around the occupancy limit if you climb directly onto the bench and bypass the floor?"

"That's exactly what I think. Both people keep to the bench, keep their feet up…" He scans the interior of the cell again. "It could work."

"You don't think they considered that?" You sound doubtful, but as you look at where the metal panels end along the trim of the floor, you know he's onto something.

"I think they considered plenty of deterrents so no one's tried it or thought of it. They tell us to get into bed when they fully activate the block. Make us think that's the only safe place so we assume what?" He pauses expectantly.

"That the benches aren't safe either," you say in disbelief.

"Exactly. All they have to do to keep us in line is make sure there's the threat of getting fried. Before this conversation, would you have tried it?"

"I suppose not," you mumble. You start to think about all the times you've sat on your bed or bench while someone else leaned in on the seat to chat. How it's the default way people hang out by the cells. There might be a reason for that. It's away from the floor. It's safe. But they're still putting some of their weight on it. And it's never activated a cell.

You turn to him, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "Let's test it."

"Are you serious?" He looks at you in disbelief. "You prepared to feel like you got hit by a transport all night if we're wrong? Because I assumed you had a hot date with Kino tonight."

"I have a very very hot, sexy date with Kino tonight, but I also know you aren't wrong, so yeah. I'm willing to take the risk."

He shakes his head. "Alright."

"Who's cell is this?"

"Uhhh, this is table 5, so…" Threl looks around, then calls out down the hall, "Hey Xaul, can we borrow your cell real quick? It's for a good reason, I promise."

A tall red head that you've made small talk with once before blinks at Threl in confusion. "You want to what?"

"Borrow—" Threl sighs in exasperation. "Just come here for a second, if you don't mind."

Xaul hesitates and looks between the two of you, as if he's trying to decide if he wants anything to do with whatever you're clearly plotting. Then he leaves the conversation he was having with a few other members of his table and cautiously walks over. "Did you say borrow my cell?"

"Threl thinks there aren't any tungstoid panels in the benches. That they can't fry two people in a cell if they don't touch the floor while both people are in there," you explain.

Xaul leans around you to look at the floor and the bench for a moment, thinking about what you said. He must see something because then he moves past you to get a closer look. He kneels down in the hall, his hand tracing along the seams of the metal trim along the cell floor. The same part that caught your attention. You and Threl watch him poke and push on the steel and the wall before moving onto the bench. He repeats the same thing there, even knocking on the sides, listening for the dense thunk of metal beneath.

Finally, he says, "The edge of the metal isn't flush with the edge of the wall panel. There's a lip. The steel sticks out by maybe two centimeters. Easy to miss. Look," he leans to the side as he points. "The tungstoid panels are set into reliefs against the wall material, like tile. The wall would have to be the piece to overlap if the steel continued up behind it or into the bench."

"Meaning…?" You prompt.

"Meaning it stops there, just like you see." He stands up and turns to Threl, and his expression is almost troubled. "I think you're right."

Threl grins. "I think so too."

"You were going to test it?" He looks at you.

"Yeah. I was going to take the risk if we were wrong." For Taybus, you think.

"Who's your number two?" He gives Threl a meaningful glance.

"I hadn't agreed to it yet," Threl looks a little nervous, and you don't particularly blame him. Getting fried fucking sucks. There's a reason they use it as punishment.

"It's my cell. I'll do it." Xaul doesn't wait for a response. He steps into his cell and climbs directly onto his bench. Then he settles in and sits cross legged—careful not to touch anything but the seat—facing you. "Are you going to just climb up the side?"

You judge the height and do some quick mental calculations about your own upper body strength and momentum. "Something like that." You look up at him and give him a serious look. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," he nods, his face stern in anticipation. "Yeah, I'm ready."

You take a step back and shoo Threl off to the side to give you space. "Threl, do me a favor? If we get fried, pull me off the second it stops so they don't activate it again, okay?"

"Okay, kid," Threl says warily. "Be careful."

You take a deep breath and walk in a little circle as you start to psych yourself up, and you notice the three of you have started gathering attention. People are aware something is going on and now they're curious. Even Alis is working his way expertly through the crowd to see what you're up to, brows furrowed in confusion and a question on his lips.

But before he can say anything, you wink at him and take a few running steps towards the bench. You plant your hands wide, push hard to lift yourself off the floor as quickly as you can, and then use your momentum to pull your legs up onto the seat so you're squatting there. It's a little inelegant, but it gets you straight inside without touching anything but the top of the bench.

For a moment, everything stops. The voices in the hall, your momentum, Xaul's anticipatory wince. Even your own heart and time freeze around you, like the whole block is holding its breath.

And then nothing happens.

Xaul is on one end of the bench, staring around in shock, and you're on the other end, trying not to move too much out of anxiety. Neither of you are frying. There are no alarms. No voices from the speakers in the ceiling. Nothing.

Xaul looks at you and lets out an incredulous laugh. You grin back at him, slightly manic with relief. With tiny shuffles, you carefully turn to face the hallway where you're greeted by over a dozen slack jawed and wide eyed expressions of shock.

"It fucking works!" You shout. "There are no panels in the benches. If you don't touch the floor and hop straight in, you can have two people inside and not fry!"

There are murmurs of confusion and a few shouts of disbelief. Then someone down the hall is climbing into a cell to try it for themselves. You aren't even sure it's his cell. A few seconds later, a man from table 3 is hopping onto the bench and in after him. From inside the space, you hear excited shouting and table 3 pokes his head out. "She's right!"

Alis walks over and he's frowning at you. "Please, please tell me you didn't just experiment using your own body to test whether or not this would get you fried."

"It's called testing a hypothesis, Alis." You say smugly.

"That doesn't make it okay!" He nearly shrieks. "You should have told me! I could have tested it! We both know I'm the faster one!"

"Oh, you're just jealous we came up with this without you," you huff. "Now move so I can hop down and give Xaul his cell back." Xaul is still sitting behind you, staring at where you're touching the bench in shock.

Alis steps to the side and you hop down. You stumble slightly because your legs are a little wobbly from adrenaline, but you land safely with a slap of bare feet on steel.

"I'm not jealous, I'm fucking worried."

"It was fine," you wave it off. "Threl and I wanted to see if we could find a way to help out Taybus and Vage."

"Okay. That's really thoughtful, but doesn't make it any less stupid." He glares between the two of you. "And you let her do this?"

"Hey, we both know she was going to try it whether or not I told her no." Threl holds his hands up in defense. "I figured it would be safer with me nearby at least if something went wrong."

"Well, if I'm this mad, I can't even imagine how mad—"

"What's going on over here?" Kino's voice comes from behind you, tense and even. Everyone immediately freezes again.

"Yeah, him," Alis says quietly.

You turn, suddenly nervous, because you hadn't stopped to think about Kino's reaction to all of this. You just wanted to figure it out. To help. And you're realizing how dumb that part, at least, was. His blue eyes are wide with anger and concern, and his jaw clenches as you meet his stare.

"Hey, Kino," you start cautiously. "We, uh, we figured out a flaw in the cells."

"What flaw?" His voice lowers and you know you have to tread carefully or you're fucked. By being not fucked.

"There isn't any tungstoid in the benches," Threl steps forward to explain. "It ends along the floor. As long as no one touches it and keeps to the bench, you can have more than one person in a cell." He shifts nervously. "It was a hunch I had, so we poked around Xaul's cell and—"

"Then I tested it." You interrupt because you know lying to him won't work. And if he finds out anyway, he'll be beyond livid. At this point your only saving grace is honesty.

"You what?" He hisses. "Why?"

"You know why," you say softly. You glance down the hall where Taybus and Vage are watching your confrontation with concern. Kino follows your gaze, takes in the way the two of them are standing with their arms nearly touching, and his lips thin in frustrated understanding. He looks back at you, no less angry. "It isn't fair," you whisper.

"You should have told me first!" He grits through his teeth. "There are better ways of figuring this out without blindly testing a hunch and getting yourself fried!"

"That's what I said." Alis crosses his arms. Kino gives him a sharp glance, but sees the mutual anger on Alis's face. Instead he turns back to you and gives you a look that says "see?"

"I promise I wouldn't have tried it if I wasn't completely confident it would work. Xaul was kind enough to take the risk with me." You see Xaul shrink back when you bring attention to him, trying to avoid getting dragged into this, and you don't blame him. "And I had Threl right there to pull me off between shocks if it didn't. It would just feel like getting last place." You try to sound as placating and sure of yourself as you can. Because you're being honest.

Even though you had been afraid—who wouldn't be?—you were certain Threl was right. The Empire is notoriously frugal and more focused on mass production. Strength through overwhelming force. Panels along every inch of every cell is an unnecessary expense when they can just rely on fear. Because they're just as focused on fear as a tool and people are plenty afraid of the floors. If that wasn't the case, you would have done more investigating first.

You give Kino a pleading look.

"Fine," he sighs in resignation. "This is another one of those things I should be actively discouraging. But," he looks around to the group still watching—possibly waiting for you to get screamed at—and raises his voice, "I won't. I know what this means, and I won't take it away." Everyone exchanges glances of surprise, but they all keep quiet so they don't anger him into changing his mind somehow.

When Kino speaks again, it's in his stern shift manager voice. "As long as no one abuses it. Because this changes nothing! The same rules still apply. You will all continue to be respectful of other people's spaces. You DO NOT enter a cell without permission. You leave when asked. You keep the volume down and…be courteous of the people around you." He turns a little red when he says that last part and you think everyone catches his meaning. "Anyone that breaks this rule will answer to me," he growls. "Am I understood?"

There's a round of "Yes, Kino" as even more people gather and word spreads through the block. The voices around you start to buzz loudly as the excitement and realization grows.

"Do NOT make me regret this! And keep it down!" He shouts. Then he turns to look directly at you. "Cell. Now." He points. "We're not done with this conversation."

You nod, accepting that you fucked up and, even though it had been worth it, you have consequences to deal with.

"Tell them, Threl," you quietly urge as you begin to move down the hall.

"I will." He gives you an apologetic look as he watches you go.

Next to him Alis sighs and shakes his head, but his frustration has faded enough that he gives you a half-hearted thumbs up of encouragement before you turn away.

You keep your pace calm, your shoulders back, and your face neutral. You're determined to accept this with a quiet dignity for as long as you can. Kino walks at your elbow, just at the edge of your periphery. Far back enough that you can't see his face or judge how mad he is. It's okay, you tell yourself. You earned this one and you don't regret it. Yet, anyway.

As you move through the crowded hallway, you're surprised when people silently part for you, letting you pass unhindered. You think it's because they're trying to avoid Kino at first, but some of them give you a nod as they move. And you realize Taybus isn't the only person that this helps. It hadn't been your intention, but a lot of them are grateful as well. You're suddenly glad you gave your shift one small opportunity for comfort and rebellion because fuck this place.

With each step, your conviction that this place is rotting from the outside grows. Because the only good thing about it are the people trapped within. You just have to wait until it breaks around you. Since, surely, in all of the levels, in all of the rooms, in all of the shifts, and at all of the tables, there are others out there doing the same thing. Testing this place for its weaknesses and pushing on the cracks.

A/N: I decided to work all of my overthinking about the logistics of the prison floor into the story. Also how about that Xaul cameo? I was waiting to fit in a character from Table 5.

Chapter 22 should be out this weekend! 🤞

NEXT CHAPTER->

#kino loy #kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #i want you to show me weak fic #andor fanfic #andor #fanfiction

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floralflorence · 2 years ago

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POV: Reg gives Leo a lapdance to this tune ^^^

Leo settled himself on the sofa despite being anything but 'settled' - his leg was jumping, his fingers drumming along the back of it where he'd slung his arms in a desperate attempt to look more composed than he felt. Reg was hovering by the massive sound system they had by the TV in the corner of the room. His back was towards him as he scrolled through his phone and connected it to the speakers. All Leo could really see was the stark white number '1' on the back of the black jersey he was wearing, the print of his own name on his boyfriend bold and clear. He wasn't sure whether it was that or the sheer black stockings that trailed up his legs and stretched across his thighs that drove him more insane.

Even without seeing himself, he knew he was flushed: sweaty, near panting with excitement as his blood seemingly began to detour south all at once.

"Baby?" Reg was now facing him which arguably was worse as he stared at him with big, grey eyes, trying desperately not to laugh at his predicament. "You okay?"

"Y-" Leo cleared his throat as an attempt to distract from the helium-high pitch his voice came out as. "Yeah, darlin', 'm fine, great, even."

At that, Reg couldn't hold in a light laugh that made Leo smile despite himself. "I thought I was supposed to be the nervous wreck here."

"'M not nervous, I'm just- honestly you're just really hot." Leo cringed slightly at his blunt wording, laughing softly at himself as Reg basked in the praise for a moment with a bright smile. He flicked his finger across a button on the main speaker before heading over to where Leo was sat in beat with the opening of the song. He maintained direct eye contact with him the entire time until he reached him. When he did, Reg placed his hands on Leo's thighs, bending at the hips so their faces were level while he placed soft, teasing kisses to his lips, swaying his ass behind him as he got into the rhythm of it. He laughed into his mouth when Leo made a small noise: he'd tried to push forward to get closer but Reg moved away as soon as he did.

Turning so his back was facing Leo, Reg trailed his fingers teasingly up his own thighs as he swayed his hips, allowing them to catch the edge of the jersey, riding it up slightly so the swell of his ass showed for a split second before he let the fabric fall back into place. He moved so he was practically sat in Leo's lap, his back to his chest but he balanced the majority of his weight on the balls of his feet. That way, he could grind his hips over Leo's crotch, just about creating the smallest amount of friction but not enough to be anything close to giving him pleasure. Reg, however, was enjoying himself immensely; Leo was outwardly panting now, sighing quick breaths over the back of his neck, his thighs under Reg's skin were trembling, the muscles jumping if even the barest breeze of Reg's body passed over them.

Relenting slightly when the chorus came on, Reg leaned more of his weight back against Leo's chest and, consequently, against his cock, throbbing harshly behind the thin fabric of his sweats. He ground his hips properly down against him, getting lost in the music and raising his arms above his head. His skin was alive, every sensation sending his heart racing - he'd never felt so sexy in all his life; he adored how desperate Leo was for him; loved how he could make him like that with a few soft, teasing touches. Teasingly running his fingertips over his own arms, Reg stretched them higher above his head. He moved them so they danced like willow branches, fluid and hypnotising as he synced the movements with the grinding of his hips.

Leo's hands flew up from where they'd been clenched into fists on the sofa cushion when Reg rose, completely separating his body from Leo's. He stopped himself and brought them back to rest next to his thighs, remembering Reg's condition: no touching unless told you can.

Turning to face him now, Reg's eyes scanned over Leo's body. First, his flushed face, the redness spreading across his ears, down his neck and detailing the top of his chest. Then to his lips, a deep, cherry red from how much he'd chewed on them, parted and shining slightly with spit. Reg's resolve shook dangerously when their eyes met - sultry, deep grey meeting wide, pleading blue. After composing himself, Reg didn't miss a beat when sliding into Leo's lap, straddling his waist but still pushing up on his knees so only his inner thighs skimmed his hips. Because he wasn't totally sank into his lap, Reg's torso was directly in Leo's line of sight. He stared unblinkingly as inch upon inch of pale, unblemished skin was revealed to him; Reg never stopping the side-to-side sway of his entire body while he slowly tugged the jersey up by the hem, arms criss-crossed across his body.

He threw it gently onto the sofa cushion next to Leo when it was completely pulled over his head before he changed his motion. Instead, he rolled his body forwards and backwards, Leo's eyes intently tracing the shift and stretch of Reg's muscles as he did. Skimming his fingers across the bare expanse of Leo's shoulders, he relished in the visible shudder that ran through him, his eyes fluttering as his head dropped back to lean against the back of the sofa.

"You can touch me, baby." Leo's head shot up, glancing at him to confirm he hadn't imagined it.

Softly wrapping his hands around Leo's wrists, he lifted them from resting on the sofa and brought them to his thighs. The moment his fingers touched the meshy material of the stockings, Leo snapped back to himself and indulged. He rubbed the pads of his fingers across it before wrapping his hands around his thigh as much as he could, squeezing the muscle there with a groan. He moved his hands slowly up to Reg's hips, following their constant motion with his hands, watching it as if in a trance. His touch was so gentle it was as though he was afraid he may break, like accidentally shattering porcelain by breathing on it too harshly.

As the song gradually came to a close, Reg lowered himself so he was fully sat in Leo's lap, the entirety of their hips and torsos pressed tightly together. Leo leaned in to brush his lips along the line of his collarbone, tracing it before trailing a path up the front of his neck to his lips. With a hand in Leo's hair, Reg pulled him into a deep, toe-curling kiss. Even as the music flicked to the next song, Reg continued to kiss him, now rocking his hips to give both their aching cocks friction instead of rolling to a beat.

#Spotify #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #smut #Cubs/Regulus #o'knutzy x Reg #leo knut #finn ohara #logan tremblay #regulus black

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glow-worms-are-believers · 2 years ago

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The GIW wasn't supposed to be a threat. They wore white pristine suits in the field and spoke like they were in a bad Men in Black remake. Sam, Tucker and him liked to make jokes about the stupid sunglasses, the code names, the mess they made of everything.

It wasn't so funny now, Danny thought as he pressed against his side which had been shot not a day before. As he turned towards the grimy window of the bus, he let his forehead lean against the cool glass. There was no use pondering what-ifs Danny told himself as he closed his eyes wearily, the only thing left to do was go forward.

Danny stayed like that for a moment before a rougher patch of the road had him hitting his head against the glass. He hissed in pain and brought a hand to his forehead, massaging it gently. He sighed before sitting back up, which had him catching sight of the go-bag Jazz had stuffed in his hands before telling him to go.

He unzipped the bag, to reveal a few clothes, and essentials. Rummaging around, he produced a wallet. Opening it he found a large amount in cash and he threw a quick look around to make sure nobody had seen that before he sent a quick thanks to Sam and he put it back in. Next, he took out the ID and smiled as he read the name James Olsen. Sam had probably suggested it, since he'd be more likely to answer to his middle name, but still wouldn't be too obvious.

There was only one with a picture, but it was in black-and-white and intentionally blurry, which he supposed he had Tuck to thank for. Putting the wallet back in the duffel, he came into contact with something soft and squishy. Taking it out, he had to stop himself from tearing up as he came face-to-face with Bearbert. Feeling his eyes start to water despite himself, he buried his face in the stuffed animal that smelled like Jazz and home.

He spent the next hour of the trip like this, curled up around the plushy until he felt the bus come to a stop and Danny had to put it back in the duffel. He walked down the bus steps to find himself in a rest area of a massive train station. From here, Danny knew he could go practically anywhere.

Danny turned resolutely away from the ticket stand and started walking towards the big interior mall. It was still open, despite its few employees looking bleary-eyed and tired, and Danny made a bee-line for the dye section. He took the colour closest to Jazz's hair, then grabbed a hoodie and a cap, before going to the check out and paying cash.

He exited the store and started to search for a one-person bathroom. The only one he could find was the accessibility toilet, and with a wince, he walked in and locked the door behind him.

Two hours later, Jimmy Olsen walked out of the bathroom, leaving behind him a garbage bin full of crushed box-dye, and a vague smell of ammonia and bleach. Walking up to the ticket stand, he booked a one-way ticket for the soonest departure and got himself an overpriced sandwich to munch on.

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting in a blue upholstered train chair, as the overhead intercom buzzed to life.

Attention passengers, we will be moving shortly. A reminder that this is the night train with last stop for Metropolis Grand Central Station. Please stay clear of closing doors. We wish you a happy commute!

Short DPXDC Prompts #538

Danny hides from the GIW. he goes undercover in Metropolis and takes up the name Jimmy Olsen. Today is his first day working as a photographer/copyboy in the Daily Planet.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #jimmy olsen #danny fenton #she took the midnight train going anyyyywhereee #roxpox #roxpoxwrote #I have a fever but not to worry for I have replenished my stash of cough drops

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 years ago

Text

How To Annihilate Your To-Do List

Summary: Y/N has a very long to-do list, can Dean convince her to let it get longer, and stay in bed with him instead?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Fingering. Kissing. General morning making out. Fluff - it's pretty much all smutty fluff!

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 830

A/N: Just a little drabble that came into my head after seeing this post. I may also have a massive to-do list, but it's gloomy and rainy in my part of the world, and it got me thinking how lovely it would be if I could just spend the day in bed with Dean instead. Hope you enjoy the...smuff? Flut? Lol! I don't think there's a word for fluffy smut - but enjoy anyway! 💓

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89.

The sound of your alarm made you groan and roll over to try and shut it off with a series of angry slaps to your phone, one of which eventually hit the right button and silenced the loud, percussive music that you'd specifically chosen so you couldn't sleep through it.

There was another groan behind you as Dean wrapped his thick arm around your ribcage and pulled you back against him. He ducked his head and nuzzled his face into your hair, his breath soft and hot against the back of your neck. His body was so warm and the blankets were so cozy you immediately fell back into a doze.

The slamming bass of the song came blaring on again ten minutes later, telling you that you'd only snoozed your alarm. Which was a good thing because as you picked it up and shut it off again, you growled slightly at the fact that you actually had to get up. You had so many chores to get done, so many errands to run. It was your first real day off in almost three weeks and all the little day-to-day crap that you'd been putting off, was now a mile long to-do list.

You tried to pull Dean's arm off of you carefully, hoping you didn't have to wake him. But as you tried to scoot out from under his long, strong limb, Dean wrapped it tight around you again and doubled down by throwing one of his heavy, muscled thighs over both of your legs, pinning them in place.

"No." He said, quick and grumbly, as though he was a particularly deep-voiced toddler.

But then his voice turned persuasive. "Stay." He breathed against the curve of your bare shoulder, as he rubbed his lips softly across your skin. He trailed kisses back up your neck before nosing along your jawline and nipping gently at your throat.

You melted into him, your brain trying to rationalize staying in bed all day with Dean instead of ticking things off of your to-do list. One last practical part of you was yelling in the distance to behave yourself and get up and do the things responsible adults were supposed to care about.

But then Dean's big hand cupped your breast and squeezed gently and every good intention flew out the window. You turned your head and then rolled onto your back so Dean was hovering above you. He smiled slow and sexy, his face still full of sleepiness, as he slid his hand down your torso, fingers drumming lightly against your skin as they moved.

Just as he was about to reach your warm, wet, heat, your phone started up again; clearly you hadn't succeeded in shutting off the stupid alarm.

Before you could do anything about the noise, Dean reached across your body and grabbed the phone off the bedside table.

"No!" He said again, his voice a deep, angry grumble now as he whipped your phone across the room so it hit the wall and went silent.

Your eyes grew wide and you gasped. "Dean! What the hell? That was my phone! What are you a caveman?"

In answer Dean grunted low and harsh, a sound that went straight to your core and had you dripping for him despite your annoyance. He grabbed on to both your wrists, wrapping his thick fingers around them easily and pressing them into the pillow on either side of your head.

He growled into your ear and shivers wracked your body. "Mmm...yeah, and this caveman has no intention of letting you out of this bed at all today."

He laved his wide tongue across your lips, licking them open before crushing his lips against yours. The kiss was deep and primal; he sucked on your tongue and bit at your lips until you were writhing under him desperate for more.

Your responsible side made one last ditch effort to get you to listen, as you panted against his neck while his lips wrapped around your earlobe and tugged.

"But...I...ah!...fffuck...Dean! - " Your sentence was interrupted as he let go of one wrist to let his wandering fingers trace down your body and then delve into your slick heat. "I...I have...stuff..." Another breathless gasp as two thick fingers slid into you. "...stuff..." You finished lamely as your one free hand grabbed hold of his wrist, holding it in place against your soaking wet pussy as he lazily dipped his fingers in and out of your body.

He watched your face as he fucked you with his fingers, watched the ripple of desire and pleasure move across your features.

"Nah, some asshole broke your phone, so your to-do list doesn't exist." He curled his fingers forward, hitting your sweet spot and making you cry out, bucking against his hand.

His voice was a growl again as he whispered into your ear. "Might as well just stay here with me, sweetheart."

You moaned out your total agreement.

@akshi8278, @lgranger67, @maggiegirl17, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone, @foxyjwls007, @b3autyfuldisast3r, @myloversgone, @kazsrm67, @fangirlxwrites67, @kickingitwithkirk, @charred-angelwings, @hopefuldreamers-world, @siospins2, @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp, @my-sherlock221b, @jensensgotyoudean @lyarr24, @snowlovespie, @stixnstripesworld, @thoughts-and-funnies, @magssteenkamp, @norman1967, @princessmisery666, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy, @eevvvaa, @b-i-t-c-h-i-e, @twirpbunwarrior, @mysweetlittledesire, @waynes-multiverse, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @bernasaurus, @leigh70, @sexyvixen7, @supernatural4life2022, @dainrumnaheimnaheim

Masterlist

Tag Lists

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fan fic #spn one shot #dean winchester one shot

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hazbmymhotel · 5 months ago

Text

So, for all of you not involved, Hawthorne and Vesper are two of Husk's six children. (Quadruplets, then twins).

Drawings of the kids here

He raises them with all of the dads: Freckle/Calvin (DID king with two faces), Mordecai Heller (who now, through several circumstances, owns Husk), and Vox (he don't live there. But he's a cult leader and a sugar daddy).

Rocky is essentially a nanny of sorts. He's the best with the kids. He was hired by Vox

Do know you may have questions!

And you may ask them on the post, in a reblog, or in my ask box!!

My wife and I have been building this lore for months, and I suppose we should probably, finally post our 300,000 word CasinoCats roleplay. (It'll probably be around 150,000 after I edit it down. I just work full time)

But!

HERE WE GO

“Aaand,” Husk said as he crouched down, Hawthorne in his hands. His tail flicked and he grinned, “up you go!” He stood fast, flinging his arms hard upwards. Husk stumbled back several steps and let out a howling laugh at the realization that Hawthorne had latched onto his arm in the final second.

“Listen, buddy!” Husk held his belly with his other hand, still chortling. “Don't you want to fly??”

Hawthorne stared at him with big, green eyes. He nodded quietly.

“Then you gotta let Mama throw you,” Husk told him warmly.

Hawthorne blinked slowly before he shook his head. He pressed his face into the crook of Husk's elbow.

“No??” Husk grinned then hissed slightly. He looked down to watch Vesper clawing his way up the leg of his pants. “You want to go first, then?” He reached down and let Vesper hop onto his free arm.

“Me!” Vesper cried out excitedly. “Me!!”

Husk brought both boys to his face, nuzzling them both as he purred. “Alright, alright, Vesper first. Down you go, Hawthorne.” He knelt again, trying to shake the orange kitten off of his arm. Thankfully the multitude of souls he held in his own body kept his back feeling fresh, or he'd have been on the ground hours ago.

“Off, off,” Husk gently swatted Hawthorne with his tail until the kitten released him-only to attack his tail feathers.

If he'd had all of these features the first time he was a parent, Husk figured he might've been a better father. His whole body was a toy to these kids. Thankfully the girls and the twins were playing with Rocky or harassing Mordecai as he attempted to work. Watching all six was an impossible feat for most of Hell.

Nearby, a small drone whirred about, telling Husk that Vox was watching. Husk had informed all of the fathers it was time to teach the boys to fly, and Vox wasn't going to let them miss another event on camera. “Wave to Daddy!” Husk told the boys.

Hawthorne waved shyly to the drone from beneath Husk's tail fan, and Vesper just grinned wildly.

“Ready?” Husk asked Vesper, who stared at him excitedly. “Okay!!” Husk knelt down, both hands under Vesper's armpits. “One, Two–” he stood fast, flinging his arms upwards again. “Spread your wings! Spread em!!”

Husk watched him carefully, ready to catch Vesper as he fell–but the boy caught himself just fine! “Great job, Vesper!!” He bent and scooped Hawthorne up, jogging slightly to keep under the black kitten in case he crashed down. “Flap! Good! Just like we practiced!!”

Husk's phone rang and he ignored it as he chased. “Not too high! Closer to me!” He spread his wings, holding Hawthorne into his chest. He should have figured Vesper would take to it immediately. He bent at the knees and pushed off the ground, catching up to Vesper in two quick flaps of his own massive wings.

Hawthorne screamed and hid into Husk's chest fur, closing his eyes tightly.

“Don't worry, Mama's got you,” Husk said to him, and Hawthorne's body language relaxed, “I ain't makin' you do it.” He reached out with his other hand for Vesper. “Come to Mama–!”

RRRRRRIIIIP!!

The sound was enough to make Husk’s ears flatten. Vesper's little cackle was already legendary. He grinned playfully at Husk and yelled, “TAG!” just before he disappeared into a yellowy hole in the red sky.

Husk flapped backwards hard to try and stop, tumbling over the tiny blip in their reality. He reached out, his own fingers finding purchase in the rip–tearing it open wider with his own claws. He watched with pinpricked eyes as Vesper squealed and landed on a tile floor.

Without thinking, Husk held Hawthorne tighter and used his wings to thrust himself into the hole. He curled around Hawthorne protectively as they landed, rolling in a heap across the tile.

SNAP

“SHIT!!” Husk grit his teeth, knowing better than to scream more than he had. He snatched his hand out for Vesper, catching him around his middle. Husk spread his wings, but only the left one moved. Husk looked up in time to watch the tear leading to the red sky of Hell close. Vox’s drone was the last thing he saw until it was all yellow.

*”Fuck.”*

“Mama,” Hawthorne whispered, “s’bad words.”

Husk bit back the urge to say another. He had to keep the kids calm.

“Shit!” Vesper giggled, wriggling to escape his hands.

\\\

Vox watched from his control panel as Husk and his children disappeared into the portal. He recognized the yellow glow. It was the Backrooms.

He called Pomni first. She'd been building up a business dealing in the creatures seeping into Hell for years. She was The Expert on the Backrooms.

"Hello, this Ragatha." The ragdoll answered the phone, sitting at her desk and jotting down the findings from her last call.

"My children and the mother of said children disappeared into a Backrooms portal." Vox tried to sound calm, failing miserably.

"That makes sense. Where was the portal? Is it still there?" Ragatha grabbed a new paper to take notes.

"It's closed." He said.

"It looked like the inside of an office building." He played back the footage, just to be sure.

"Okay." She jotted it down when he told her the approximate location of the portal that had closed on Husk.

"I'll call you back as soon as we know anything." She said, and Vox thanked her and hung up. He had other fathers to alert.

"Pomni!" Ragatha called.

"We have a job!" Her voice was sing-song.

Pomni left her private office, where she'd apparently spent the prior night. She yawned.

"Give me the details and I'll contact Striker."

\\\

Don’t lave us alone with Husk. My wife and I hurt him.

Does anyone ELSE want the story of what we have wrought

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insult-2-injury · 3 years ago

Text

Taking the Shot

A gift for the lovely @x-amount-verbs- a massive, 6.5K smutty one-shot inspired by her brilliant story, A Helping Hand. (If you're not reading it, I don't know what you're doing). Big thanks to her for allowing me to put her OC, Ivy, into some very compromising positions.

[Silco x f!oc (using helping hand reader/OC)] [6.5K WC] [NSFW MDNI] [gun range setting] [Mirror Sex] [Fingering] [Facefucking] [Praise Kink] [Manhandling] [dom silco] [Lots of teasing] [Dirty talk] [Fluff at the end]

Note: gun target practice, no gun violence, no gunplay

Bang.

The gun recoiled in her hand.

An almost deranged smile stretched from where she’d bitten down on the center of her plump lips, joy rampaging through her chest like a wildfire as she hit her target dead center. An almost painful relief. Such a delicious welcome from the depression, the feelings of uselessness that had tightened their iron grip around her heart like a vise since the accident.

She could still do this.

Could still close her eyes and feel those subtle vibrations in the air, shifting like the plucks of tiny harp strings, carrying her bullet forward and straight into the heart of her victim. Which, in this case, was the top of a soup can, painted crudely in a neon green.

She was in a run down, abandoned textile warehouse on the outskirts of Zaun. The roof had caved in a long time ago. Decrepit place. Standing mirrors, dusty furniture, piles of unused fabrics were scattered haphazardly.

But Jinx had helped fix this movable target practice up, the funny little mastermind. She smiled to herself, thinking about the way the girl had sat there comically with a blowtorch and giant goggles, grinning ear to ear.

She’d hesitated when Jinx had proposed the idea. Had thought maybe this was too big of a step and too quickly. Mostly worried about her own self-doubts. Whether she would cripple when she found out she wasn’t that same talented sharpshooter as before.

But no. No. She was still good. Hadn’t lost a lick of that talent.

She revved up the machine again, transferred the gun to her prosthesis, closed one eye and watched the little targets rise, whir past. Adjusted her grip until she got that feeling.

And making quick work of it, she hit three more consecutively, something devilish about the way her stomach flipped and her lips curled.

“Impressive.”

She choked on a gasp, body stiffening. She would be able to recognize that crooning voice out of a line-up of hundreds. Thousands. How could she not when the sound had utterly consumed her thoughts as of late.

Like a rocket ship seconds before liftoff, her heart rate picked up to a swift patter before she even turned.

How long had he been standing there?

Silco was supposed to be out for the day on shimmer business. No therapy, no planned contact. She’d already mourned over the minor loss, for Janna’s sake. Something oddly indignant had her lips forming a thin line and, clutching the gun with a suddenly damp hand, she spun around finally.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she stuttered, feeling immediately stupid.

Silco’s lithe form leaned against the splintered door frame, hands in his pockets, something she’d come to recognize as dark amusement glittering in his eyes. He must have just returned from a business engagement because he was wearing that damned coat.

His gaze dropped sharply to her prosthesis.

“On the contrary, my dear.” Silco’s eyes flicked back up to hers. “I go wherever I please.”

He shouldn’t be out alone, without protection. No, she disciplined herself, not for the first time. He could take care of himself. She knew that.

“Jinx helped me set this up,” she offered, at a loss for words.

“She is who directed me here,” he said, brow quirking as he peeled from the door frame, beginning a slow saunter toward her. “And curiosity, I suppose.”

Oh, he was wearing gloves, she noticed right away, a blush beginning a heated track across her cheeks. She tried not to let her shameful gaze wander as she fought off every instinct to take a step back for each one of his forwards.

Because this wasn’t his office. This was entirely new territory.

“About?” she asked lightly, turning from his approaching form, lest he spot something in her expression that he shouldn’t.

It was supposed to be a surprise, she thought, that she’d taken to practicing. Well, with her gun, of course. She wanted to pout. She wasn’t a child, she didn’t need to perform tricks for the man.

But she wanted to, didn’t she? Wanted to impress him. Hated that she ached for that praise.

“Your progress, of course.”

She nodded, swallowing down the sudden dryness in her throat as he inspected the area, eyeing the crudely made moving targets, dragging two sinful fingers across the surface of a nearby table until he came to a halt in front of a gold-plated, full-length mirror, contemplating.

There was something… excitable about him tonight, a feverish energy prickling the air around him like a live wire.

Hm.

“Your meeting go well?”

Silco’s head canted just enough for her to see the slow, evil curl of his lips from the shadows.

“More than well.”

His crimson eye sharply tracked the movement of her violent shudder from over his shoulder before he turned on his heels, making his way back.

She couldn’t feign indifference anymore when his boots stopped inches away, looming over her.

Silco’s voice was soft, but the glint in his eye was a knowing one.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been practicing?”

She peered up from under her lashes and shrugged. Elected, instead, to stare intently at the silk tie that cinched his thin neck.

“I was planning on it.”

“Were you?” he asked, studying her a moment before stepping back, arms gesturing wide, flippant. “Demonstrate.”

Demonstrate… again?

She stared, unnerved. It was a pretty simple request, really, and it wasn’t as if it were the first time she’d been asked to perform for him. It was just different somehow,when these strange new boundaries seemed to be evolving, mutating by the second.

“Show me,” he repeated, eyes steady on hers, brooking no room for argument.

She turned to the whirring machine, a single target remaining. Her body felt alight with jitters, tremendously aware of the way his gaze stripped her down to her center, capturing and devouring her uneasiness like a cat with a mouse tucked beneath its paw.

She had 12 rounds. Nose twitching, she released a cleansing breath and took aim.

“Ivy,” he chided, and she grit her teeth.

They weren’t in his office. This wasn’t therapy.

She felt his searing satisfaction as she begrudgingly switched her gun to her prosthesis.

Closing one eye, she lined up her shot, peripheral vision blurring until the only thing down her sight was the moving target.

Her finger tightened on the trigger and-

She practically leapt out of her skin as something brushed across her back lightly, sending her shot firing upward. Whirling, she found Silco on her other side now, feet away, looking entirely unapologetic, fixing his glove.

“So sorry, do try again.”

She stared, unblinking, something irreparably destabilizing in the light touch of his hand, a cold shudder clanking down her spine.

11 rounds.

She could do this. Silco knew it, too, had been watching her for Janna knows how long before announcing his presence.

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathed, adjusted her stance.

And shuddered. It never worked. Never. Whenever she had to try. No, she had to feel it. But all she could feel right now was that paralyzing gaze, much too close as it darted across the angles of her profile.

Squinting in concentration, her shot fired out, skimming just outside the little target.

10 rounds.

“Try again,” he commanded harshly from her side.

She bit her lip, took a deep, quaky breath, trying to dispel the odd tremble in her limbs, the slow, crawling heat that was blooming softly in her belly. She raised the gun once more.

And missed.

She’d just done it. He’d seen.

9 rounds.

“You’re rushing. Again.”

Her throat constricted.

Was that excitement in his tone?

Another miss.

8 rounds.

“Again.”

She lowered the gun limply to her side, glaring pointedly ahead.

“I can’t,” she muttered, thoroughly humiliated.

“Oh, come now. Don’t be like that.”

And again, there was something… volatile in the chime of his voice. Like he was playing with her.

He stepped forward, tapping her bicep.

“Up.”

She jolted at the contact and with an almost embarrassing speed, did just as he asked, heating blooming across her cheeks at her unconscious submission.

With a low, approving hum at her side, he altered her grip on the gun, scarcely touching her, the hem of his coat brushing ghostlike across the backs of her knees.

Heart clattering like a tin can, eyes squeezed shut to try and lessen the quivering in her limbs from his proximity alone, she waited for him to release her wrist. But he didn’t, instead dragging his firm grip upward to rest on her elbow.

“There you are,” he said breezily, “Now, try again.”

The shot rang out.

Went completely stray, wood shattering somewhere in the recesses of the room.

7 rounds.

“It wasn’t but five minutes ago you were hitting every one.”

She let out a stuttering gasp when his arm progressed upward to wrap almost painfully tight around her upper arm.

“I wonder what it is that has Ivy so unsettled.”

Silco was hardly touching her. And she was melting, desperately trying to center herself from the crashing wave of almost nauseating desire that swelled from the single point of contact.

“For one, I can see a few improvements to be had,” he tsked, “One being your stance. Too stiff.” A booted foot wedged between her legs, kicked out her back foot, bringing his heat that much closer to her wobbling form.

Breath lightly caressed the shell of her ear, tone holding a cunning note of underhanded bemusement.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been practicing?”

Because she wanted to impress him.

“Hm?” he prompted after a prolonged silence.

“I wanted to get back into shooting,” she exhaled, “That’s all.”

A rumble of disapproval hummed through his chest.

“Try again,” he commanded.

And she carried out his orders, how could she not? Squeezed the trigger, hardly aiming anymore, the shot once again going wide.

6 rounds.

A hand lightly grazed up her side, paused, almost in permission, and she found herself leaning back on her heels just slightly, searching for the heated planes of his stomach. Finding empty air, his body circumventing hers, always withholding.

His movement resumed as her breathing hitched, his knuckles just barely brushing the outside curve of her breast before traveling back down, fingers bracing almost tenderly around the soft skin just above her hip bone.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been practicing?” he asked again, voice lethally quiet.

“I wanted-“

She stopped. It was too much, too humiliating. Because he was just going to mock her, step away and she’d have to go home, suffer the lonely consequences.

But then his nose brushed the curve of her ear, tracing the shell. And one of her knees buckled as she choked out a telling gasp. His palm slid around to her abdomen, splayed there, not so much bracing her up as just resting lightly, taunting.

“What is it? What did you want?”

She grimaced, couldn’t help the way her head drooped in embarrassment. Her voice was small, weak. Just like her subsequent words.

“I wanted you to be proud.”

Silco’s dark chuckle in her ear was practically a purr, sent a flurry of tremors racing down her stiffening spine.

“Did you?” His pinky moved a fraction, brushing just slightly across the top of her waistband. Her knees locked, nails latching onto the wrist of his offending hand. “And do you think I’m proud of you?”

Her lips thinned and she turned her glare away from his line of sight,

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, humiliation scorching like a wildfire across her cheekbones.

“Allow me to rephrase. Do you need more attention?”

All she could manage was a quick, indecipherable jerk of her head.

“Your words,” he commanded.

Another rough swipe of his pinky across her navel and she squeaked, pressing desperately backward, trying to escape the hot shock of desire that accompanied the miniscule motion and only managing to entangle herself further into him.

She let out a string of garbled nothings.

“What was that?” he taunted, nose grazing her temple. “Is it my attention you want?”

The gloved hand gripping her bicep traveled upward slowly, across the gentle curve of her shoulder, up the slope of her neck and into her raven hair, where it expertly massaged her scalp. She vibrated against him like an overheating engine, breathing shallow and head clouding with a heady lust.

“Yes,”she panted, eyes closing at the sensation. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he crooned, exhaling a quiet laugh as she clenched her thighs together, the words traveling lightning quick to the pooling wetness between them. Just as he knew they would.

And she’d just begun to relax into the gentleness, into something almost resembling a lover’s embrace, when his hand fisted roughly in her hair, yanking back until she had to arch her back to accommodate. Her hoarse cry echoed obscenely across the empty warehouse.

Silco’s words were ragged, hissed into her cheekbones, his knife-bladed nose pressed tightly against her hairline from where her head now lay across his shoulder.

“Have you considered, Ivy, the implications of holding my attention?”

Of course she had.

“Y-yes.”

And he tightened his fist further. The unoccupied gloved fingers dipped just beneath the hem of her pants, sitting there unmoving, and she bucked in his grip, eyes blurring with a heady mix of pain and pleasure.

“Make the shot.”

Her jaw slackened when he responded to her hesitation with an agonizing tug, the nails of her flesh hand digging red crescents into his forearm.

No, came a stubborn little voice inside her head.

But Janna, she wanted to hit that moving target for him. And she hated that she did.

“Hit the target, Ivy.”

Perhaps, she thought, a compromise.

With a frustrated cry, she locked her arm, fixed her sights elsewhere, finger pulsing like mad against the gun trigger until she’d unleashed all 6 rounds, the empty chamber clicking furiously several times before she finally relented on it.

Her arm dropped limply to her side.

And what followed was the purest form of silence, with only the weighted sounds of their oxygen intertwining as they both stared at a now busted dress mannequin with six perfect bullet holes in its chest.

See? She was fully capable.

She listened, with a subtle, growing anxiety, to Silco’s increasingly ragged breath fanning across her cheek, his fingers having loosened in her hair.

Had she messed this up?

She turned, painfully slow, afraid of what she might find, of the devastating, smirking outcome. But as the tip of her nose brushed his, she found it was the lack of humor that terrified her the most: a crazed intensity there that nearly consumed the beautiful teal of his right eye.

“Sir?”

He attacked. Hauled her wriggling form backward like she weighed nothing at all.

“Oh, you,” he snarled into her ear, “That wasn’t what I asked for at all, was it?”

She clung onto him for dear life.

“Complying just enough to strike innocent.”

She was propped up dazedly in front of the stand-up mirror, feeling very much like the ruined, lead-filled mannequin lying prone behind them.

“But do you want to know what I think?”

A gloved hand wrapped the front of her throat, pressing just enough to make her dizzy, the other traveling up the muscled planes of her abdomen.

“I think you tremble when I’m near,” he spat, emphasizing with a brush of his thumb across the fluttering pulse of her neck, pulling a pathetic whine from her.

It was near impossible to comprehend the mirror’s reflection, Silco’s chin resting on her shoulder, his calculating, frenzied eyes holding hers in a perilous deadlock.

“I want you to see yourself, Ivy, just how desperate you really are.”

As if on a mission to prove his point, she pressed backward dazedly, seeking out his heat through the small gap between their bodies.

She couldn’t be the only one.

She reached behind, trailing up Silco’s thigh.

And cried out in fresh pain as the roaming fingers on her stomach shot upward, locating and twisting her nipple hard through her t-shirt, serrated nose driving into her temple as he harshly reprimanded.

“When did I say you could touch?”

She entrenched her claws hopelessly into the smooth skin of Silco’s forearm, as if he had her dangled over an active volcano. Fingers dipped beneath her waistband, thumb brushing teasing strokes across the sensitive inner junction where thigh met groin. Each narrow pass of his digit left her trembling, just as he’d said, the pulsing between her legs fringing on painful.

She protested. “Why don’t I get to tou-“

Silco squeezed her windpipe, lips quirking villainously in the mirror as he choked the span of two breaths, her back bowing mechanically, backside grinding backward into an impressive erection.

“You’ll get your chance,” he said, “So long as you beg for it.”

Ivy was never one to sulk. She took life’s abuse with a hard glint in her eye, with her jaw clenched firmly against the storm. Therefore, the fact that the man was able to elicit such a quivering pout out of her was alarming to say the least.

Spotting her growing petulance, his thumb swiped once, hard, across her clit. A throaty cry cracked through the air as her knees buckled, head thrown back against his shoulder, resting on the wide lapel of his coat.

Panting, she desperately tried to paddle back to shore through the crashing onslaught of blood rushing through her now ringing ears, hardly catching Silco’s theatrical sigh through the haze.

Silco’s breath tickled the exposed column of her throat as the fingers around her throat dipped into the V of her shirt.

“I’m undecided as to what to do with you, Ivy,” he crooned. “Such a good girl for practicing on your own.”

Something delightful and warm snaked through her chest at the praise.

“But to keep such progress from me?”

“I’m s-sorry,” she rasped, voice tight.

“Oh, I know you are.”

Silco pinched a nipple between two fingers, paired it with another hard swipe across her clit, wrenching another moan from her throat.

“Look at yourself.”

Hesitantly, she cracked her eyes open, peering dazedly at the salacious scene.

Silco hunched, one hand lazily massaging her breasts, the other one down her pants. Her cheeks ruddy, chest heaving with fruitless gasps as she clung to him like a cat on a high branch. And he lay in wait below, arms splayed, a gold and crimson-tinted thorn bush.

“All I need you to do, Ivy, is beg.”

She knew he’d spotted it, that emblematic precipice she stood on. It reflected plain as day in her lust-filled eyes, how he’d won her subservience.

Something victorious and equally vicious quirked his lips into a devilish smirk.

She would beg. She would do it. But she was dragging him down with her.

And he did falter just the slightest when her nose brushed his jagged cheekbone as she turned to ghost her words hotly across the lobe of his ear.

“Please,” her breathlessness entirely genuine, chest heaving against his palm. “I need- I need you to touch me.”

And at the tattered, uneven breath in response, she surrendered, loading the final bullet in the chamber, pressing her damp forehead into the lapel of his coat, sighing into his neck.

“Please, sir. Please, Silco.”

Like a hot stove, she was released suddenly, and there was a long moment where her stomach free fell in anxiety.

Clearing off a nearby table with a ferocious swipe of a single arm, he yanked it in front of her, its legs squealing raucously across the concrete flooring.

With a shocking, cobra-like speed, he had her torso driven into the surface, one hand on her midback, the other going to work on her pants. Dexterously, he unclasped the buttons with a single hand, tearing her pants and underwear down to her ankles in one fell swoop.

Two gloved hands smoothed across the globes of her buttocks, spreading her to the cold air, exposing the wetness she knew full well was glistening on her inner thighs.

She dropped her forehead in a sudden wave of embarrassment and was quickly reprimanded with a tight fist in her hair, his eyes scorching into hers from where they hovered over her head.

“Oh no, you don’t get to look away from this.”

One hand gave her backside a rough thwack and she instantly pushed backward, shamelessly seeking him out.

“Look at you,” he breathed almost reverently.

Silco hardly allowed her the time to feel self-conscious as he released her hair, his now free hand hovering for just a moment in front of her panting mouth before she found herself suddenly invaded, leather fingers pressing inward, exploring the cavern of her mouth, scissoring, shoving slowly across the pad of her tongue until she gagged, eyes watering.

He slipped them out again.

“Bite,” he commanded.

And it took her a few dazed seconds to understand, vision misting. She quickly closed her teeth around the tip of his middle finger, allowing him to tug backward, to free his hand from the glove.

The second it was unencumbered it dove between her legs. Once again, her head thudded onto the table with a vulgar moan, quickly morphing into a whine of despair when his hand disappeared, clapping again at the soft flesh of her backside.

“What did I say?” he reprimanded, and she raised her head obediently.

“Good.”

His fingers danced across the backs of her thigh, kneading softly up to the place he’d just spanked and she bit her lip, hardly caring about the smugness twisting his features, nothing else more important than getting his fingers between her legs again.

“You said you want me to touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Where, exactly?”

Her eyelids fluttered in frustration as Silco’s warm digits danced across her inner thighs, merely outlining her throbbing core.

“Touch m-“ she stuttered, nearly incoherent, “Just touch me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, dear.”

“Put your fingers inside me,” she snapped, and was rewarded with a third, sharp spank. Another painful fist in her hair.

“So shameless, so ill-mannered.”

But she didn’t miss the way his erection dug into her side approvingly.

“Please, sir” she pleaded.

Silco chuckled darkly, hinging forward from the waist, booted feet on either side of one of her quivering legs, lips tracing the shell of her ear.

“Remember this, Ivy,” he said, voice dangerously soft, as he kicked her insole, successfully widening her stance. “I’m not without mercy.”

And two fingers bee-lined to her clit, performing a quick circle around the sensitive bud. A shattered gasp tore from her throat and she only just managed to catch her head from dropping in pure, sanity-shattering bliss.

Silco dipped his fingers carefully between her wet folds, eyes wild and calculated as he drank in her reactions like a fine wine, chin coming to a rest atop her head.

“You are a needy thing,” he murmured quietly, and she shuddered at the feeling of his jaw working, at how docile she remained, pinned beneath him. “Perhaps I should have paid you better attention.”

He spread the growing slick, wanting her to feel how wet she was for him.

“Alleviated you sooner.”

Silco relented to her whining pleas, pushing two fingers slowly inside her, hooking them in a way that had her jaw dropping in euphoria, a low, satisfied groan puncturing the air, her nails digging into the wood from where her arms framed her head.

“You are under my supervision after all.”

He soon pumped with a third finger, refraining from speech, forcing her to listen to the sounds of her arousal, of just how drenched he’d made her.

Silco’s gloved hand released her hair, forging a lazy trail down the center of her back. The gentleness sent shivers of pleasure through her already quaking form as he stroked across each vertebra until he reached her tailbone.

Bending, arm encircling her hips, leather-covered fingers located her aching bud, and she jerked forward, grinding against the unmoving digits.

He withheld any compassion, instead watching with a predatory head cock as she struggled against him in a desperate bid for friction.

“I suspect this isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself writhing against my glove, is it?”

And her stomach dropped, frenzied, lust-filled eyes connecting with his own in the mirror. It should’ve been shameful, the recognition, and it was certainly there, that twinge of embarrassment. But more than anything, it was a freeing acknowledgment of the tension that had been building over the course of a week and a half.

And she felt oddly fine with him knowing exactly what he did to her.

Her chin squeaked against the surface of the table as she jerked her head back and forth, finally tilting it to the side so she could speak.

“No. It’s not.”

Silco’s expression dripped in a villainous self-satisfaction and he finally moved, dragged another tight circle around her swollen bud, paired it with a particularly deadly hook of his fingers within her, sending her hands clawing forward.

“And would you ever have told me?”

He began a steady rhythm, working her, each pass of the ridged seam of his glove across her clit coinciding with a desperate moan.

Silco repeated the question, she shook her head fervently, unable to speak.

“It seems to me you’ve been awfully withholding,” he crooned, breath fanning across the small of her back, eyes fixed to hers in the reflection. “First your little set-up here, now admitting you’ve been fucking yourself with my glove.”

The sound of the spat curse from his lips had her clenching hard around his fingers, a familiar heat stoking in her lower belly, coiling insidiously slow.

“Perhaps I should stop.”

“No, no, no.”

Voice so tight it was practically a screech, her fingers scrabbled for purchase as the heat continued to build, as the tidal wave quickly approached.

“Hm?”

Any semblance of control she’d had was far gone. All she knew for certain was that he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop. Not when she was this close. So, snatching the string of a single, coherent balloon floating by, she babbled the only word she could come up with, muttered it like a prayer.

“Please, please, please, please.”

“Are you going to cum, Ivy?” he purred into the dampening skin of her lower back.

“Please,” she nearly sobbed, stomach tightening like a pulled back rubber band.

“Then, cum.”

The climax smashed into her devastatingly hard, her back bowing violently as that band snapped.

Mouth opened in a silent cry, brows knitted in ecstasy, she determinedly held his evil, gloating gaze until she couldn’t any longer, that tidal wave of pleasure finally crashing through. The weight of it dragged her forehead to thud against the table as she released a strangled moan, stars bursting across her vision.

He drew it out forever. Fingers hooking in time with each violent, perfect convulsion, thumb still circling her clit slowly.

He eased her gently through, not stopping until she was a shuddering, boneless heap on the table, twitching from the overstimulation.

Hair stuck sweaty to her forehead as she pressed it to the cool wood, breath coming out in short puffs, the post bliss of release tingling across her skin. And she thought, if she could, she’d fall asleep right there.

But a light brush of soft lips to her tailbone brought her dazed thoughts back to the man behind. Who still very much had his long fingers pressed inside her.

She raised her bleary gaze to his.

With a slow deliberateness, he pulled his fingers out of her, and she twitched violently as she was hit with an aftershock, clenching around him, the resulting squelch obscene in the otherwise quiet room. At her low groan, the hard outline of his cock twitched against her outer thigh.

For a man so chatty just thirty seconds ago, he was unnervingly quiet now.

She propped herself up with shaking arms, eyed her prosthesis, tried to force away that surge of familiar, venomous self-doubt.

She crawled up onto the table, ignoring, as best she could, his sizzling gaze as it flicked across the side of her face. Swinging her legs up, she tugged her pants the rest of the way off and pulled her boots off one by one, socks to follow, discarding them on the floor with a dull thud. She took a deep, cleansing breath, despising that he could see her fumbling hesitation, the way her eyes kept darting to her hand.

The wetness weeping from her cunt reminded her of what he’d done, how he’d touched her. That he’d wanted to touch her.

She scooted to a kneeling position before him, butt resting on her heels, knees spread slightly, looking down uncertainly.

A gloved hand tipped her chin up, held it there while three curious fingers came to rest at her lips, waiting, and she darted her tongue out, catching the bitter taste of herself. Sucking his fingers greedily into her mouth, she gazed up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Good girl,” he whispered, thumb brushing with uncharacteristic tenderness across a small scar near the crease of her lips before he pulled away.

Fabric rustled as he bent, and two hands were skimming up her hips, stopping at the hem of her t-shirt. She jerkily raised her arms for him to draw it up and over her head.

Until she was entirely bare to him.

Silco swatted at her when she instinctively attempted to cover herself.

“We don’t hide, Ivy.”

She frowned, blinked curiously at his phrasing.

“Be still. Hands atop your thighs,” came the reprimand again as she curled inward. “Let me look at you.”

She could feel his eyes as they slid across her naked form, felt that golden ribbon of arousal curl between her legs once again as he cupped two hands beneath her breasts, thumbs rolling slow, tantalizing circles over her pebbled nipples as she squirmed and whined.

“It’s hard to be the only one without clothes,” she rasped finally.

“Oh,” he paused his ministrations to taunt, “That must be so difficult.”

Only fair to allow her a remedy.

The table creaked beneath as she redistributed her weight, reaching toward that intimidating erection in his pants. And he struck, quick as lightning, seizing both wrists, yanking her toward him, her knees sliding forward until they were flush against his upper thighs, chest thrusting upward in order to lean decidedly away from his face, suddenly so close.

“What did I say about touching, Ivy?”

It was a long moment before his words from minutes ago emerged through the thick fog of lust clouding her mind.

“That I’d get my chance,” she said, “So long as I begged.”

Silco rearranged her wrists into one long-fingered hand, snatching her jaw in the harsh, punishing grip of his other.

“Yet I haven’t heard so much as a please.”

An honest attempt was cut off with a hiss as her teeth scored into her cheeks.

“What’s that?” he murmured, half-lidded eyes dropping to her wet mouth. “If this is what you want, you’re scarcely trying.”

If he let go of her, she would fall. In more ways than one. She was lost. Lost in the familiar, smoky scent of him. Disappearing in the orange swirl of that obsidian eye. And she hardly thought she’d make it out.

“Can I touch you, please?”

His gaze drank her in from up close, eyes darting, and she beat him to it, knew exactly what he was opening his mouth to ask. Where?

“Your cock. I want to touch your cock, sir” she said, words strained from her awkward positioning.

Silco’s teal eye twitched.

“May-may I?” she stammered again in the silence.

A look of genuine, dare she say fond amusement crossed his features before he balanced her, pulled forward until her hands twisted into the stiff fabric of his coat, until their lips were inches away.

“Off the table. On your knees.”

He gave her hardly a body’s worth of space to do so, but the approval ignited a fire under her skin, and she eagerly wedged herself between him and the table, slid down his front until she knelt on the floor below him.

With a flourish, he shoved the table out of the way, giving him full view of her backside in the mirror.

Her flesh hand reached forward tentatively to meet one of the buttons of his pants, eyes falling to the strained fabric at the front.

“Both hands, Ivy,” he said, her name stretched into a soft, breathless exhale as she brushed across his clothed cock, moving to undo his buttons with remarkable speed, despite her quivering form.

She reached for the other side and found her wrist in his stern grip once more.

“I said, both hands.”

In a sudden bout of frustration and shame, her forehead pressed forward against his hip flexor, nose nuzzling inward, his skin twitching as she warmed the fabric there with her hot breath.

How shameful. Couldn’t she be allowed to forget about her disfigurement, her defect, just for a moment in time?

Fingers tangled gently in her hair and her eyes rolled to peer up at him, her core pulsing wildly at the feral edge he tried to contain within that impassive expression, crooked teeth visible through his slightly parted lips.

She’d use her prosthesis. She’d do anything if he continued to look at her like that.

I’m doing this for you.

Her pleading expression urged him to understand as she struggled with the final two buttons, her captured wrist released to her once finished with an uttered praise from Silco.

She ran her hand along the hard bulge, feeling it twitch against her palm.

Appeasing him finally, she tugged at his waistband, releasing him, eyes widening a fraction at the generous length.

She took him into palm, prosthesis planting against his hip, thumb swiping teasingly against the sensitive skin around his cock. A tattered breath was released above her and she looked up again, hungrily devouring his reactions.

Her lips were so close. She could taste him if she wanted, was sure he wouldn’t mind. Maybe flick out her tongue a bit.

She met his gaze questioningly, pumping her hand slowly up and down his shaft, swiping her thumb across the head, gathering the beads of precum there, adoring the way his tongue pressed against his teeth in response.

“Do you want to take me in your mouth? Is that it?” he asked, words holding a serrated edge.

She nodded, biting the plush of her bottom lip.

“What are you waiting for?”

Nothing anymore. She darted her tongue across the tip, groaning softly when his hand tightened painfully in her hair, and even more when she wrapped her lips fully around the weeping head, tongue swirling lightly.

Taking deep, calming breaths through her nose, she eased him slowly into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, and he expelled a ragged, drawn-out groan in tandem with her own as the sound of his pleasure shot straight between her legs.

“You’ve wanted this since the very beginning, haven’t you?” he grit out, and her eyes shot to his. “Pleasured yourself to my fingers between your legs, to your lips wrapped around my cock like this.”

She moaned out an affirmative yes around him and he hissed.

“Dirty girl.”

As she found her rhythm, his straying hands found their way to her face, pushing the sweat dampened hair back, clearing his line of sight, calloused thumbs dragging frenzied patterns into her temples as he began to take control, fucking steadily into her.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, voice strained.

The praise warmed like fine liquor in her chest, his groaning satisfaction pushing her to take more of him with each thrust, to please him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he hit the back of her throat, as she struggled to breathe, relaxing her jaw, eyes rolling upward as his pleasure intensified her own.

Her hand released her grip on the base of his cock, snaking its way between her legs instead.

“Look at you,” he panted, thumb swiping gently at her tears, “Working yourself so good for me.”

She keened around his cock as she worked her clit furiously, provoking a ragged growl out of Silco that was positively sinful.

“Let me see you.”

She lifted her wild gaze to his, cunt clenching around nothing at the equally untamed glint in his eye.

Let him see you.

She spread her knees wider, and her thighs burned as she pushed her body slightly upward, arching her back so he could see the outline of her fingers pumping, palm grinding as his gaze honed on the mirror’s reflection.

And all the while he uttered crooning, breathless praises to her, petting her hair as he increased pace, eyes darting between her and the mirror as if she would disappear any second.

Pleasure ripped through her and she cried out, throat widening just that last amount to push her fully forward, both hands flying out to grab his legs in support as her nose smashed into his abdomen, fully encasing him inside her humming throat.

With a shattered groan, he followed suit, his release spilling down her throat, fist tightening so excruciatingly in her hair she would have squealed if she could, eyes rolling back as pain and pleasure formed an exquisite concoction.

She rode out the cresting waves of her orgasm with her hands wrapped tightly around the backs of his thighs until she was a twitching mess beneath him.

The blackness that had begun to take hold at the edges of her vision had her smacking his fingers on her head with increasing desperation, and he finally released her, gasping for air.

She slumped forward against him.

She breathed him in, wanted it to freeze itself, this strange moment in time: her forehead pressed reverently against his thigh, his fingers rubbing gentle, absentminded circles into her temples. She didn’t know when she’d grabbed the wrist of his left hand with her prosthesis, but it gripped there all the same.

“Clothes on.”

The tone of his voice was cryptic. Quiet.

Her body sagged and she allowed herself one final moment to mourn what may well never transpire again.

Then, swallowing dryly, did as she was told, not looking at him as she dragged her clothes back on, wondering what the hell happened now.

Grabbing her abandoned boot from in front of the mirror, she paused, eyes on her prosthesis as another wave of venomous self-doubt washed over her, brought a swell of angry tears to her eyes. At how utterly broken she was.

Tearing her gaze away, she laced her boots, standing up straight only to find Silco beside her.

Turning slow, she faced him fully, uncertainty wrinkling her brow as she dared to look upon his face, fearing something smug. Finding only a searching softness.

Ironing out the space between her brows with one thumb, he took her prosthesis in the other, eyes darting across her features as he raised it, cupping it gently across the scarred side of his face.

“We don’t hide, Ivy.”

I think, with this being my first smut piece, I may have gotten a little carried away, but there you have it folks, 6.5K words of my filthy, rotten brain.

Again, I highly encourage everyone to check out @x-amount-verbs A Helping Hand, although I know most of us are obsessed with it already :) I have heart eyes for her OC and for the complex way she writes Silco. And on top of that, she's also just a lovely person.

AO3 Link if you want to toss me a kudos or a comment. It makes my entire day :)

I don't have much under my belt yet, but am starting a master list and am always looking for requests if anyone wants to send em' my way. Or just send me any and all of your unhinged thoughts, this fandom is hilarious.

Much love! <3

#A Helping Hand #silco #Silcoxreader #silco x oc #silco arcane #smut #silco x f!reader

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sinditia · 3 years ago

Text

That's Just What Good Dick Does - A Starker Ficlet

A little 1.3k one-shot inspired by this ask sent to @starker-secrets . I hope you don't mind that I took this prompt and ran with it, anon.

The girl – woman, really – moans like she’s being fucking paid for it. Loud, high-pitched, and unrelenting.

“Ohh… ohhh… oh, fuck yeah, right there… oh fuck, that’s so good… give it to me… ahh!”

It’s the kind of noisy shit that most guys would jerk their dicks furiously over on some grainy, shaky footage of your run-of-the-mill amateur pornstar being railed, posted on whatever free streaming website these guys would frequent because they’re too cheap to shill out on the good stuff.

“oh god… ohh… oh, yeah… nnngh, fuck!”

She’s moaning and gasping and panting and practically screaming. Her head is lolled to the side, mouth slack, almost drooling on what look like very expensive sheets. It looks totally fake, except Peter – and the whole world, really – knows that it isn’t. The face on screen that’s contorted in pleasure is one that’s very familiar, often gracing entertainment gossip channels and fashion magazines. Usually the socialite’s face is painted immaculately with make-up, posed in carefully sultry and demure expressions, overlaid with flattering filters and perfect lighting. But here in this leaked video, she’s stripped of all control, her face is warped in the kind of wild, naked bliss that could be nothing but genuine. She’s probably super humiliated by all this.

Peter imagines a lot of men would get off on that. But not him. To Peter, all that noise, all that face and all that body, huge bouncing tits and all, they’re just distracting him from what he really wants to watch from this video.

“Oh god, your cock… it’s so big… ohhh… ohh fuck Tony, it’s so deep in me… oh yeah… right there… right there, ahh!”

Peter huffs frustratedly, one hand still palming absently at his barely hard self. He wants to see that supposed “big cock”. He wants to see how fucking massive and beautiful and amazing that cock must be to make her look like that, sound like that. Peter knows that cock must be glorious, but he wants so desperately to see it.

A quick scan of the video tells Peter that he’ll never get to see a glimpse of that cock he so yearns for, even when it ends with the woman’s belly getting splattered with what looks like a generous amount of cum. Peter would have exited the video and opt for jerking off to his usual material – that particular magazine spread featuring the CEO and owner of Stark Industries all greasy and sweaty in a tank-top, biceps straining as he lifts something in his workshop. But under all the grating noises the woman is blaring in his earphones, Peter can pick up another voice in the background, deeper, masculine, rough with arousal and exertion.

“Mmm, you like that, don’t you… squeeze around me, baby… yeah, just like that…”

Tony Stark, the object of Peter’s teenage affections and lust, doesn’t make much noise in these leaked videos. But it’s enough to send the blood rushing to Peter’s dick so fast that he gets a little dizzy.

Peter takes his hand out of his sleep pants and wipes it distractedly on his bedcovers. He needs two hands to quickly open another application on his laptop and isolate that particular audio. He abandons the original video and turns up the volume on Tony Stark’s low, rumbly dirty talk.

Peter closes his eyes and takes in the only sounds from that leaked sex tape that he’s interested. He’s heard Tony Stark speak in all sorts of public events on TV. He knows exactly what the man sounds like, the confidence and charm in his voice a perfect match to his handsome face and muscular body. Now Peter knows what Tony Stark sounds like in lust. The man’s groans and low, heavy breathing are just as sexy as the rest of him.

Peter bites his lip, stifling a moan as he pumps his dick faster. His aunt is sleeping just down the hall and he can’t be as loud as the woman Tony Stark is fucking in the video. He’s only got the man’s voice filling him up and he already wants to scream out in pleasure. He can’t imagine what it must be like to have Tony Stark’s actual cock inside him. Oh god, that cock. He hasn’t even seen it but he knows it’s big. He knows it. He wants it so bad.

Tony Stark is grunting in his ear, whispering dirty, filthy things to him. Peter’s earphones make it sound like the man is right here in this dark bedroom with him. He can almost feel a phantom breath on his neck, praising him, crooning about how hot and wet and tight he is.

And then Peter learns what Tony Stark sounds like when he orgasms. A low, gorgeous sound, a heaving groan that’s so clear, so close to Peter’s ear that the boy can’t control his gasp as he cums, back arching in a taut line, toes curling as he jerks and spills all over his fist.

Several years later

“Slow down, sweetheart. I wanna take my time with you.”

Peter shivers. He’s masturbated countless times to the sound of that voice through his earphones but it’s got nothing on the real thing. Not when he’s also got actual lips nipping at his neck, that rasp of stubble on his skin telling him that this is actually happening to him. Peter is the one spread out on Tony Stark’s expensive sheets now, pinned to the mattress by the man’s broad weight, feeling that unmistakeable bulge between his legs.

“Fuck me, Daddy” Peter begs, breathless already. “Please. You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Tony chuckles. He sucks biting kisses on Peter’s neck, hands slipped under the younger man’s shirt, tweaking his nipples, making him cry out in pleasure.

“Yeah?” Tony trails his lips up Peter’s jaw until they’re kissing, open-mouthed and filthy. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you what you want.”

Peter moans at the taste of Tony’s tongue. The man’s kisses are confident and dominating and Peter is helpless to it, swept up in the overwhelming sensations.

“This pretty mouth is so sweet,” Tony murmurs between kisses. “Wanna feel it on my cock. You wanna suck me off, baby boy?”

Peter is still dazed when Tony sits back on his knees. Through the haze of lust he registers the older man unzipping his pants to take out his cock.

“Oh my god,” Peter gasps, eyes fixed on Tony’s hard-on. “Oh my god, it’s even bigger than I imagined.”

“You sure know how to flatter an old man, sweethea- oh, fuck!” Tony curses when Peter suddenly lunges forward to take that cock down his throat.

It’s huge. Too much to fit into Peter’s inexperienced mouth. He gags and splutters but he’s so hungry for it that he forgets that he needs to breathe. It splits him open, even wider and better than all his imaginings when he jerked off to Tony’s sex tape audios.

Tony’s fingers are buried in Peter’s hair, guiding his movements, throat-fucking him none to gently. Tony makes pleased groaning noises that sound even better than in those leaked videos.

Peter can barely let out anything beside wet choking sounds when his mouth is so stuffed full of cock but he screams and sings his pleasure when he finally gets stuffed on his other end.

“Ohh,” Peter moans, head thrown back in ecstasy as Tony rocks between his spread open thighs, plowing into him hard and fast. “Oh fuck, Daddy, you fuck me so good… you’re so big… so big in me… right there, Daddy… yeah… yeah… ohh!”

That’s just what Tony Stark’s cock does to someone. Peter knows he’s moaning and babbling mindlessly like a cheap whore but Tony fucks like a sex god and there’s really no holding anything back when such a magnificent cock is pounding into him like this.

Peter wonders if he can get Tony to record them while having sex. And if that somehow gets leaked… well, Peter wouldn’t mind the world knowing that Tony Stark, along with that amazing cock, belongs to him now.

#marsha writes #nff #starker

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