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happysnowseal · 3 months ago

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Deals and Desires (final)

Sylus x OC | Midnight Stealth!AU

genre: smut, lil’ comedy, enemies to enemies who fuck

rating: explicit

description: You fail to find the brooch within 24 hours, so the twins suggest you offer Sylus something else in return for getting into the auction—your body. Turns out, your desires are aligned, no matter how twisted they seem.

word count: 8.8k

warnings: IMPROPER use of Evol, tentacle smut, “rope” bondage, lore from Midnight Stealth and the two chapters we meet Sylus (duh), Luke and Kieran being instigators, mentions of hentai, OC’s turned on by Sylus and his Evol and is conflicted, rough sex, breast play, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), double penetration, unprotected sex (this is fiction), standing 69, mirror sex, sneaky sex, electrostimulation, cum eating, multiple rounds.

a/n: IT IS DONE. IT IS HERE! I made a post saying imagine Sylus manipulating his Evol into tentacles to fuck OC with… and voila! This was born. I incorporated a lot of the game dialogue/events but also put my own spin on it. Asks, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! 💌

You must be sick in the head.

Ever since you witnessed those black-red tendrils dissipate the man in black who abducted you into nothing but mere crimson specks, something strange awoke in you. Witnessing such a cruel death shouldn’t pique your curiosity, but beneath your horrified expression was a deep fascination for the leader of Onychinus’ powers. Not that you’d ever tell him.

A simple flick of the wrist or snap of the fingers is all it takes to summon those menacing black-red tendrils. The powerful mist would coil your vulnerable body, manipulate it, bind it—all for his intentions of resonating with you.

However, as the shopkeeper had stated, you can’t resonate with him. On a subconscious level, you’re rejecting him, scared of him, or disgusted by him. So you wonder: is it possible to fear him yet desire him also?

When Sylus proposed a deal that would aid you in your quest for the Aether Core, you couldn’t resist. You had twenty-four hours to find a brooch he had hidden somewhere in Onychinus’ base. Yet despite searching every nook and cranny, you came up short of nothing.

The first time Sylus caught you, he was reading a book on the couch. His calm demeanor didn’t match his appearance, which screamed sin. The gold-rimmed glasses on his face matched a gentlemanly scholar's, but his body was adorned in a lavish red robe, with a V-line low enough to expose his toned pecs. Seriously, who was he showing off for?

“Get out.”

Once you were caught snooping, the same black-red mist formed make-shift handcuffs that bound your wrists. You groaned, dwelling on your loss.

The second time he caught you was when he was dusting his shelves, his back toward you. He was no longer in his robe, having changed into a black dress shirt and matching slacks. Without sparing you a glance, one word left his lips.

“Leave.”

The black-red tendrils were back around your wrists and you whined. “Ugh… I was caught again…”

Third time’s the charm, right? You had your gun loaded and after cocking it, you said to yourself, “This time for sure, I’ll…”

A pair of black slippers showed up in your peripheral and you slowly looked up to see the same, steeled expression in those crimson eyes and that cursed red robe again. It was like a second skin on him at this point. He let out a weighted sigh, which diminished your confidence.

“... I know. I’ll go now,” you said, defeated. He didn’t use his Evol this time, and you’re at war with yourself as to why you even noticed. Or why it mattered so much.

The last time Sylus caught you was the worst. He was in the shower, so you seized the chance to search his bedroom. Desperate, you even sunk to the low level of animal abuse when you shook Mephisto, his crow with mechanical wings, like a piggy bank for answers.

That’s when Sylus turned off the water and panic struck you, so you hid. There was a small window of opportunity to escape, but a phone call came in, deterring your plans. He answered, you eavesdropped, and when things were getting juicy, he noticed your presence and chuckled.

“Mr. Sylus?” the man on the call said.

“It’s nothing. Just a stray cat who happened to barge in.”

This time Sylus not only apprehended you by the wrists, he lifted you in the air as black-red mist swirled around his left hand. The call ends as he sets you down on the bed, and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Not because you failed, but because you didn’t want to face the humiliation of how his Evol brought back a certain spark you thought fizzled out.

Sylus’ back was turned, selecting a record before placing it on his record player.

“Have I underestimated your determination or overestimated your intellect?” he asked. You stared at your bound wrists, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine.

“You’re the one who suggested a deal. But here you are making things difficult—” you said, fiddling with your thumbs. He approached you, a stern look flashing across his sharp features.

“You’ll have to work harder.”

He grabbed one of your wrists, and red sirens went off in your head. Your mind raced a mile a minute, wondering what his intentions were as he dragged you off the bed. You commanded him to let go, and he obliged, but only after he shoved you out of his room.

“Leave,” he said, his head gesturing to your right, “I’m going to bed.”

At least he kicked Mephisto out too, so you didn’t have to face the loss alone.

Which brings you to the present. You’re scribbling doodles of the bastard as an outlet for your anger, making the stylish choice of adding devil horns on top of his head.

It’s bad enough you’ve been trapped in Onychinus’s base for who knows how long. The man who’s held you captive should be your worst enemy, yet every encounter ignites an inferno in the pit of your stomach. Try as you may, but the dark thoughts you shove in the back of your mind are bubbling to the surface. If anything could anchor you back to reality, it’d be this—remember the mission.

You were to get into the auction to find the Aether core, which you can’t do without his help. But you couldn’t find that stupid brooch, so you’re back to square one. You scrawl over the sketch of Sylus, the pressure harsh enough that the paper threatens to tear until only a tornado of black ink is left.

“You’re pulling your hair out over this, huh?” Kieran says, sitting atop a table with his back towards you. He looks over his shoulder, so his voice will reach better. “If you want to do something, maybe we can help you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, casting the notebook aside.

“If you want to conquer our boss’s heart, you’ll have to use a different approach,” Luke says, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not trying to conquer his heart. He’s trying to conquer mine if anything,” you retort, folding your arms across your chest as you stand. Luke pulls a book from underneath the table and slides it across in your direction. You walk over, pick it up, and drop it just as quickly like it was a ticking time bomb. “What the fuck?!”

“Strike when he’s off-guard!” the twins chorus with Kieran leaning forward as Luke makes claws with his hands.

“Yeah, I suppose anyone who receives a hentai novel would be caught off-guard! What’s wrong with you two?!” You have to tear yourself away from looking at the erotic cover, depicting an anime girl being fucked by black tentacles belonging to what seems to be a demonic being. He had it all: horns atop his head, ebony eyes, endless tendrils, and a smokin’ hot bod like Sy—wait. No. Don’t look at it anymore. Even sparing it another glance feels like corruption and sin.

Luke chuckles, taking the explicit material back and flipping it open to a specific page. “For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest,” he reads.

Kieran’s sharp memory allows him to quote the story without having it in his hands. "When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go."

“What are you on about?” you ask, exasperated they’re quoting the pornography like it’s a holy scripture. Luke shuts the book and slides it towards you again, but you grimace like it’ll taint your soul.

“If you don’t want to conquer his heart, perhaps it’d be smarter if you conquer his… desires.”

“If you bow down and submit, maybe our Boss will have a change of heart and help you get into the auction. I mean, no one’s ever offered him their body,” Kieran adds. Your hands fall to your side, balling into fists until your knuckles turn white.

“I’d rather take him out in one go,” you say through gritted teeth. It’s not like you haven’t tried. However, the crazy bastard used you to shoot himself in the chest and you haven’t been the same since. Man thinks he has regenerative healing properties and he’s all that. Pfft. “You two are insane if you think being promiscuous is the solution.”

“In the end, Boss wants to resonate with you. You don’t have to like him, but your body can. Think about it,” Kieran insists, tilting his chin down slightly. The mask he wore shields his face, but you can imagine the impish grin from his inflection. “There’s nothing more intimate than spending a night together.”

“Read the comic,” Luke says, and you can tell from his tone he’s smirking despite the matching mask on his face. “Maybe you’ll find it enjoyable.”

“N-No. This is insanity. You’re telling me your Boss wants to fuck someone with his Evol as… tentacles?”

“Now you see why no one’s ever offered their body,” Kieran says matter-of-factly.

“This is stupid,” you mutter, clasping a hand to your forehead. “I’d rather die than fuck Sylus.”

“She might die even if she does fuck Sylus.” Kieran’s quick to elbow his brother in the side, and your heart is lodged in your throat, beating so loudly like it’s about to burst. He’s right. You could. You’ve seen what his Evol could do to a person.

But you’ve also thought about what it could do for a person. For you.

“Just… think about it,” Kieran says, his voice gentle like he’s coaxing a kitten out of its hiding spot. “If you give our Boss his ultimate desire, I’m sure he’ll do the same for you. You’ve never once thought about him in such a way? You’re not a tad bit curious?”

Luke and Kieran were treading dangerous waters. These two instigators somehow burrowed into your subconscious, forcing you to come face-to-face with your depravity.

You roll your eyes to maintain aloofness, but the book ends up in your possession seconds later. “I’m taking this for research. You’re sure this belongs to him?”

“Absolutely!” they chorus and you’re not sure hearing double aids their credibility.

“Boss is least guarded when he’s sleeping,” Kieran informs. Aren’t we all?

“You only have one shot,” Luke says, emphasizing his point by sticking up his forefinger. “Don’t waste this chance. Just do it!” He gives you a supportive fist pump and you peer down at the lewd book cover again.

What choice did you have? The twins presented a rather salacious solution, but Sylus was your only means of getting into the auction. As Luke said, if you can’t conquer his heart, perhaps you can conquer his desires.

No matter how twisted.

Three hours later…

Time slips away from you as you’re engrossed in your “research.” Not only was it full of filth, but the plot (if you can even call it that), was eerily similar to your situation. The girl on the cover was a demon hunter who fucks a demon to get him to do what she needs. Every drawing is breathtaking, detailed, and graphic. The way his tentacles bent her body to his will, the various positions, how it slithered around her body—it awoke the same feelings you had the night you met Sylus.

The dialogue instilled shame, lust, and more than enough sexual tension to charge a lightning storm. You had to pause every few pages, fanning your face until your cheeks cooled enough to continue. An earthquake couldn’t pry this masterpiece from your grasp and you were determined to finish it.

Once you’re done, you slam the book shut. You take a deep breath, regaining a sense of clarity when a realization dawns on you.

This was why Sylus’s Evol fascinated you. How every time he manipulated your body, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your body until your heart nearly gave out. You indeed feared him; everyone did. But fear was a mask you’ve clung onto so desperately to disguise the dark truth.

Sylus could’ve killed you at any time, but he chose not to. Sure, he has ulterior motives, but the control he has over his power is undeniably sexy, and knowing he can’t kill you meant you had control over him too.

You’ve hidden your desires under revulsion and endless banter when maybe he was right. You’re two kindred spirits, who are more alike than you want to admit. Someone created this book to satisfy the same urges you’ve been depriving yourself of and if Sylus indulged in these fantasies, then you’re not insane for wanting the same thing.

You’ve made up your mind.

If you offer your body to Sylus, it’s a win-win. You’ll get into the auction and you no longer have to feel ashamed about wanting him.

For the mission of course.

You head to Sylus’s bedroom, standing outside the wooden double doors. A pair of Evol-sealing handcuffs are in your possession, courtesy of the twins. You place them in your back pocket and rest your hands on the gold handles, giving yourself a mental pep-talk.

All or nothing!

You turn the handles and march in, seeing Sylus sleeping in his canopy bed with his back against the plush headboard instead of the mattress.

Is he a vampire? Eh. Red eyes, white hair, gorgeous—might as well be.

Climbing onto the bed gently, you watch his chest heave, his breathing evident but it’s so light that you’re tempted to press your ear against his chest to ensure he’s alive.

“Sylus… Sylus?” you say, confirming his dormant status. A soft chuckle escapes you as you whip out the handcuffs, lifting his wrist and attaching it to the golden vintage bed frame. “This is what you get.”

Now that he’s immobile, you can’t help your feasting eyes from ogling his exposed skin. That red robe was both a curse and a blessing, a warning of caution, yet you choose to ignore it. You hover your finger above his abdomen, contemplating whether to make contact when a hand snatches your wrist, lifting it to eye level.

“Showing up uninvited at this hour… Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” he says before tossing your wrist aside. You place both hands on either side of his head and his eyes slightly widen, but he remains composed. This would be a lot easier if you straddled him, but patience was a virtue.

“These handcuffs nullify a person’s Evol for an hour,” you declare. He stares at the restraints, his face devoid of emotion before settling his attention back on you. “No matter how powerful you are, you’re helpless as of now.”

“Really?” he asks, the corner of his lips hinting at a small smile. It’s subtle and leaves as soon as it comes. “What do you plan to do then since I’ve become your prey?”

You remove your hands and lean back to sit on your knees. “You’re going to listen to my counteroffer.”

To your surprise, he nods like he has nothing better to do. Maybe the cuffs weren’t necessary. “I’m intrigued. Continue.”

Clasping your hands together, you clear your throat like you had prepared a speech when in reality, your brain is scrambled. What are you supposed to say?

Hey Sylus, do you want to fuck and use your Evol on me like tentacles? It’ll help us resonate!

You might as well put a big fat sticker on your head that says “FREE $.99! FUCK NOW!” and get it over with.

“I’m getting bored,” he states, stirring you from disorganized thoughts. You press your lips into a thin line, mustering whatever courage you have left.

“Look… from the beginning, you trapped me here, forced me to resonate with you, and even said ‘we’re the same’...” You wet your lips out of habit to calm your nerves, and he doesn’t miss it. “I couldn’t find the brooch in time and need your help to get into the auction. And you want to be able to resonate with me. So…”

“Get to the point.”

“I’m offering you my body for the night,” you blurt out. He raises an eyebrow and his usually calm demeanor breaks for the first time as a flicker of confusion dances across his face. You would take pride in that, but his face quickly morphs, so you jump out of bed with your hands up, worried he’d deny you. “Hold on. Let me explain.”

Not like he had a choice. The fact he was handcuffed eludes you for a moment, but once you remember, it eases the tension in your shoulders. He waits for you to continue, the smug look on his face not helping to ease your nerves.

“I don’t like you and you don’t like me. But you want to resonate with me, so if we sleep together, maybe… I’ll hate you less. Besides, we have similar desires. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

His eyes glint a haunting crimson from the golden glow of his night lamp. “Do tell. How do I look at you?”

Your knees almost buckle from his deep, smooth voice. “Like… Like… you hate me.”

“Astonishing misunderstanding. Yet somehow you’ve concluded this means we should sleep together?”

You might as well die of embarrassment. “If it’s for the mission, I can detach my personal feelings. We do this and there’s a chance I’ll be able to resonate with you better. After all, what’s more intimate than spending the night together? It’ll work unless… you’re inadequate in bed.”

It’s brief, but you’re sure Sylus clenches his jaw as his lips press into a slight frown, his eyes narrowed on you with laser-like focus. You turn away from him, smacking your cheek like a spanking for being stupid enough to question Onychinus’ leader’s skills in bed.

“Are you done?”

You whip your head around. “Um… yes.”

An exasperated sigh escapes him. “You say you failed to locate the brooch, but your twenty-four hours aren’t up yet. There’s still time.”

You place one hand on your hip while the other waves him off, dismissing his words. “I’ve searched everywhere already!”

“Everywhere. But not everyone.”

The light bulb in your head goes off and you’re back by Sylus’ side on the bed, holding your palm out like an entitled brat.

“Where’s the brooch?”

His smile reaches his eyes and he gestures his free hand across the expanse of his body top to bottom. “Help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

You run your fingers along the black lapels on his robe, checking the inside layer first. The fabric is silky smooth to the touch, but you’re distracted by how hot his skin is on the back of your fingers. No brooch though.

Next, you check the outside of the lapels and sure enough, you feel a hard, circular object. Pulling it out, you see the crow brooch with a lustrous ruby in the center. You giggle with glee.

“Do you really think I hate you?” he questions.

“Now it doesn’t matter at all. I won!”

“Deals have conditions and my condition wasn’t met. The offer has expired already.”

“But you said…”

Shit. The handcuffs on Sylus start to glow red, similar to how blacksmiths heat materials in a furnace. The metal soon melts, allowing your once prey to become the predator.

Your attempts to escape are futile, given Sylus’ quick speed, and you’re thrown onto the bed. He hovers over you and your fight-or-flight instincts kick in as you throw a punch, but he catches your wrist and pins it down without batting an eye.

“You’re pretty good at running away.”

“Let me go. I already have the brooch.” He pins your other hand down, enveloping his large hand over your clenched fist.

“I told you. My offer has expired already, so the real question is… when does yours?”

Sylus is staring down at you with crazed, crimson eyes as the sound of your heartbeat rings in your ears. His hands are warm, too warm. Like they’ll burn you alive or maybe that’s your body heat rising exponentially from how close he was. His scent wafts over you, filling your nose with pleasant notes of cardamom and something herbal, which soothes your nerves and helps you rediscover your voice.

“I… I…”

“Use your words.”

“I only made you that counteroffer because I thought I failed. The brooch has been found. Who cares about the rules? You’re the leader of the N109 Zone. You break them all the time.”

“Careful, sweetheart. My patience is running thin. I’m only keeping you around because you’re still useful. And…” He squeezes your fist like he wants to pry it open. A warning. “I truly enjoy seeing my little prey struggle.” He brings your enclosed fist in front of his chest. “Especially when it thinks it can get away from me. Now tell me… what similar desires do we share?”

Okay. Maybe if you scream loud enough, Mephisto will fly in and—

“Answer me.”

Who were you kidding, Mephisto would sell you out in a heartbeat. That damn crow better not have seen you reading pornography. And those twins… they better start counting their days.

You pull your lower lip under your front teeth, hoping to seal your answer shut for good. But Sylus’ right eye glows red, and you writhe underneath him, turning your head to the side. His Aether Core will reveal your deepest desires if you make eye contact.

Sylus grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, probing into your subconscious and witnessing all your shameful thoughts. Eerie voices fill your mind, their murmurs are difficult to understand, but the pain they bring is borderline unbearable—an unfortunate side effect of Sylus’ intrusion. Once the glow in his eye fades, you feel like yourself again. But the twisted smile on his face let you know things were far from over.

“So that’s what you mean by shared desires… You want me to use my Evol on you. No… you want me to fuck you with it.”

“That’s not true! Luke and Kieran—”

He runs his thumb across your lips, an effective solution for your yapping mouth. “Such improper use of an Evol could have devastating consequences. You are too gullible, kitten.”

Damn it. Those two…!

“Don’t call me that,” you bite back.

“Oh? You have quite the mouth on you today. First, you make a big show of offering your body to me and now you don’t have the guts to tell me exactly how you want me to take you?” He leans closer, his lips ghosting above your own with the slightest touch. “Confess your true desires, [Y/N].”

“N-No. The twins set me up.”

“That book may not belong to me, but I assure you… my desires are all my own. And they align with yours. All you have to do is confess.”

He doesn’t move and prolongs eye contact to where you feel stifled, trapped, and heated in places you shouldn’t. The leader of the N109 Zone doesn’t play around and knows what he wants and the means to get it. But you like challenging him. You like being challenged by him too.

You stay quiet because giving in too easily is what he wants.

“That look in your eyes… Are you trying to seduce me?” You form what you believe is a scowl, but it results in another teasing smirk. “As long as you have desires, there will always be deals to make. So what will it be?”

“I want to get into the auction,” you say, uttering the same script to maintain a semblance of professionalism. “That’s all.”

He sees the brooch jutting out from the space between your forefinger and thumb, easily able to lift it from you. “Don’t move.”

To your surprise, he pins it on your shirt and sits on the edge of the bed. You sit up and lean on your elbows, tilting your head at his sudden behavior change.

“Technically, you did find the brooch. I won’t go back on what I promised you.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

“You sound rather disappointed.” He gets up, and you follow suit off the bed like a lost kitten. “If getting into the auction is all you desire, consider it done. You can leave now.”

His back is facing you, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s disappointed too. You fidget with the brooch, running your thumb across the smooth jewel. Without thinking, your hand latches onto his like a magnetic force. Sylus spins around, glowering as you intertwine your fingers through his.

“Let me resonate with you.”

“So brash… you’re getting more and more interesting.”

He entertains you and utilizes his Evol, the black-red mist wrapping around his forearm like sprouting vines as he brings your entwined hands up to eye level. He closes his eyes as more mist envelops where you two are connected, and you watch with bated breath as scarlet specks float inward.

Devour him… he’s yours. He’s right there before your very eyes.

Those eerie voices are back, and you’re strangely compelled to heed their words. An ivory glow shines where your palms meet before an explosive burst of energy emerges, a spiral of lethal scarlet and radiant white from your combined powers. Sylus opens his eyes and lets go of your hand, allowing ivory flakes to cascade down like confetti.

“It’s a shame. But not a surprise.”

“We can try again. Let’s—”

“I admire your tenacity, kitten. But I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Your insides feel like an unattended kettle, whistling from immense frustration and on the verge of exploding. You can’t leave now. Not after he gave you what you wanted. There is a thing called give-and-take, and you’re not one to only take. The guilt would eat you alive.

“I don’t want to owe you. Here,” you grab both his hands, “one more time.”

Sylus lifts his arms and pins you against the nearest wall with hands above your head. Your breath is knocked out of you when your back collides with it, the impact causing the lamp to nearly topple over. His glare is murderous and your sick mind dared to find it incredibly attractive.

“Your stubbornness is what’s going to get you killed someday,” he warns. You see him lean back and remove his hold over you, but when you try to move, you feel restrained. His powers; they’re bounding you. “Is this what you want? For me to use my Evol on you?”

“Isn’t that what you want? I don’t want to owe you,” you repeat. “So I’m ready for whatever’s going on here. You can… use me for the night.” The last part was barely above a whisper, but Sylus’ hum as he folds his arms across his chest lets you know he heard you.

“Do you know what you’re requesting, little one? My Evol is dangerous,” You feel the restraints tighten and they only stop when you yelp in pain. “Yet it’s almost like you welcome it. Even if it hurts. Do you like it when it hurts?”

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, so you kick in his direction with all your might. Hunter instincts, if you will. But the black-red tendrils around your ankle make you sweat as he lowers your leg without breaking eye contact, pinning both ankles to the wall.

“Feisty kitten thinks she’s a tiger now, huh?”

“Why don’t you get on with it already?” you snap, impatient. Sylus grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker like a fish.

“What makes you think I won’t kill you?” Like his razor-sharp words, you feel something akin to a collar around your neck. It prickles your skin while restricting the flow of oxygen to your lungs and you gasp like you’re trying desperately not to drown. You feel light-headed, but his Evol takes mercy on you and grants you enough air to breathe, though you know it comes with the price of answering his question.

“Because you would’ve done so already,” you answer, though your voice is shaky. Sylus nods, as if satisfied with your reply.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Clever girl.” The praise sounds delicious rolling off his tongue. “One final question.” He releases your face and bends down to meet your eye level. “Do you desire me?”

Having been inside your head, the answer was obvious. He’s looking for confirmation, a verbal confession to make whatever feelings you have for him tangible. The man is a walking red flag, and you’re about to wave a white one in surrender.

“If I don’t?” you question, challenging his authority one last time.

“Then I’ll release you.”

“And if I do?”

“Then… I hope you’ll allow me to have you. All of you. Deal?”

A beat passes and you gulp, your head saying no, but your body and heart screaming, “Yes.”

His hand comes up to caress your face, almost lovingly. “Yes, what?”

“I desire you.”

Sylus gives you a full smile, the corners of his eyes creasing. “You’re aware of the risks, right? With the snap of my fingers, I can tear things to shreds,” He carries out the action and as promised, his robe is shredded to bits of black and red confetti. Your eyes trail down his well-developed abdominal muscles and pronounced V-line until they settle on… “Enjoying the view?”

His teasing lilt reminds you to close your gaping jaw. Hell yeah, you’re enjoying the view. Not only was this man well over six feet, his body rivaled that of a Greek God, and he was blessed with a massive cock too? Of course. Things had to be proportionate.

“I… you… that robe was expensive, wasn’t it?” That was quite possibly the lamest response you could’ve come up with.

“It seems like the little kitten is distracted. Probably needs a toy to keep her occupied.” Sylus flicks his fingers, commanding the whirl of black-red mist to rip your clothes and you shriek in surprise. The brooch falls to the floor with a soft clink, and he picks it up, gently putting it on his nightstand. His attention returns to you and your exposed body, and you take pride in how his cock throbs at the sight. “So she likes lace. Pretty.”

You bite back a scream when a black tendril with cracks of glowing red light slithers up your body in between the valley of your breasts, tearing your bra right off. Another one coils around your thigh before it rips your panties off too. The appendages seem to multiply, wrapping your body in an intricate pattern similar to shibari. There’s no pain and they feel smooth, cooling your heated skin.

“I can manipulate things at will with the flick of a wrist. My powers are pure energy meant for destruction, and you’re here wanting to use them for pleasure.”

He leans close to your ear and nibbles the shell of it. The sensation tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle. His voice is husky as he whispers, “I could kill you right now. It’d be so easy…”

You hold your breath when he leans back enough to scan your face, relishing the turmoil in your eyes. “I-I trust that you won’t.”

“You know…” His index finger travels alongside your neck, then to your breast, tracing your areola in circular motions. “As soon as my Evol makes contact with anyone, people would die almost instantly and experience the most excruciating pain.”

He’s now rolling your nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, pinching it enough to hurt and elicit a whine from you. “S-Sylus…”

“But that’s not the case with you. Do you know the violence it took to become this gentle?”

You don’t know why your heart swells, but his words were sweeter than any confession. “Thank you…”

His eyes widen slightly and he stops his actions, tilting your chin up instead. “Say that again.”

“Th-Thank you… for being gentle with me.”

He closes his eyes and shudders like your gracious manners sent waves of pleasure throughout his body. A sharp inhale comes, and then he’s staring deep into your eyes like he could see your soul.

“What a good girl you are thanking me… but I must warn you. I meant what I said about having all of you. You’re not the only one with fantasies, [Y/N]. And mine are anything but gentle.”

“I can take it.”

He gives you a half-smile. “Is that so?”

“You doubt me?”

“No. But I think you might underestimate me. After all… I’m possibly ‘inadequate’ in bed.”

Shit. Maybe you shouldn’t have challenged him. But your bratty nature couldn’t leave you well enough alone. “Prove me wrong.”

Sylus’ resolve crumbles and he holds the side of your face as his lips meet yours for the first time. His pressure is gentle like he doesn’t want to scare you off, and once you two find rhythm, he deepens the kiss and you moan as the taste of cinnamon overcomes you. Spicy, very much like him.

His tongue prods its way through once your body relaxes, sliding across your own, the action far more lewd than romantic. He groans and carefully takes your bottom lip in between his teeth, pulling back in the most sexy manner. You moan and he swallows it, kissing you again with more fervor as his hands explore your body.

First, he traces your curves and trails down until his hands cup your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. Then he brings them back up, kneading your breasts and you mewl at how rough he handled them. Eventually, the kiss breaks, leaving a thin trail of saliva that connects your lips until it eventually severs.

“Beautiful…”

One word and you’re all heart-eyes for the man as heat rushes to your cheeks. If he wanted to tease you for it, he restrains himself and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly before releasing it with an audible pop. His tongue pokes out, swirling around the bud while his hand tends to the other. Your back arches involuntarily, but you’re quickly reminded of your immobility, which causes more arousal to drip down your thighs.

Sylus stops messing with your pert nipples to suck harshly between the valley of your breasts, inevitably leaving a nasty hickey. He pushes them together and then lets go, loving how they jiggle.

“I wonder…” he muses, taking two fingers to tease your folds. “Oh… you’re so wet and I haven’t even put them in yet.”

You squeeze your eyes when he inserts them in slowly, your slick making the transition smooth as he stretches you out. “Fuck… Sylus, please.”

“What? Are my fingers not enough?” He stills and the lack of movement frustrates you to no end. You want to thrash around, but you’re still glued to the wall.

“N-No. Please… please move them.”

“You beg so prettily,” He pulls them out and begins fingering you at a snail’s pace. “But it’s not enough. You can do better.”

“Please!” you exclaim. “I need more…”

“God, you’re dripping on my hand and I haven’t done much.” He moves faster, his fingers knuckle deep and curling in spots that have you clenching hard. It’s like he’s coaxing out more of your essence with each stroke and then challenges you with a third finger. “Does it feel good?”

You can hardly respond with how stuffed you feel, your lust insatiable as he speeds up.

“Yes? No? Maybe so?” he asks, amused by your struggle.

“Y-Yes… good… so good…”

Your pussy is making obscene noises and you’re feeling a warmth building in your abdomen, especially when Sylus kisses your neck. His lips are scorching hot, almost searing as if you were being branded. You submit and let him mark you, focusing on the pressure within as your high is approaching. He uses his free hand to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together.

“Fuck!” you shout, feeling like you couldn’t breathe fast enough to keep up with his bruising pace. “I’m going to come, I—”

He seals your words with another kiss, and your scream is muffled when your orgasm hits you like a gunshot. It’s brutal and intense, causing you to see stars for what feels like the longest minute of your life.

At the same time, your interlocked palms glow bright red and ivory. Unlike before, this explosion caused a surge of power to pass through his bedroom like shockwaves, destroying most things that came into contact. The roar is deafening, but all you can focus on is Sylus and how good he made you feel.

“Come back to me.”

You don’t realize when he stopped kissing you. Or when he removed his fingers. Or when you stopped being pinned to the wall. Sylus is holding you up and when you see how his eyes softened for the concern for your well-being, you’re smitten.

“I’m okay…”

His demeanor shifts, the change so sudden that it is like a phone going from light mode to dark mode. The man manipulates your body with his Evol and throws you onto the bed without a second thought. Black-red mist envelops your body again, this time cuffing your wrists in front. Tendrils wrap around each breast, your torso, and your neck, constricting tightly until you resemble a beautifully decorated present.

Sylus joins you on the bed, settling in between your thighs as he lies on his stomach as if he were a sniper. He has his Evol pry them wider, so your pussy is exposed for his feasting eyes. His arms are secured under your thighs, an extra precaution to hold you in place.

That’s when an untimely knock comes.

“Boss? Is everything alright?”

“We heard a loud crash!”

Damn it. Luke and Kieran have impeccable timing. And the way the corners of Sylus’ lips tug into a smirk instills panic in you.

“Answer them. Make it convincing,” Sylus whispers. You watch as he dips down until his white hair is all you can see. His lips latch onto your lower ones and you’re choked up, trying not to moan too loudly as he tastes you.

“We’re… We’re fine!” you exclaim, though your breathy tone is far from convincing. Sylus grunts in disapproval at your poor performance, and the vibrations are a suitable punishment. “Sylus and I have are having a disagree—ah!—ment.”

Fuck, why does he have to lick your clit right at that moment?!

“Oh no, you two are fighting?” Kieran asks, his voice cracking slightly from his concern.

“Give up, [Y/N]! Our boss is relentless!” Luke adds with a faint snicker. Tell me about it.

Sylus continues to give you kitten licks before licking a long stripe across your labia folds. You’re bucking your hips because you want more, but you’re also trying to close your thighs to escape the pleasure. It’s no use when you’re restrained and have no choice but to let him eat you out to his heart’s content. It’s when he inserts a finger to join in his salacious tongue that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe. “Sylus, if you keep going… they’ll hear me.”

“Then I suggest you stay quiet. What would your colleagues say if they knew the best hunter in Linkon is lusting over the leader of Onychinus?”

“I’m-I’m not!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie,” He gives you a short break to clean your juices off his fingers, sucking them like they were a popsicle. “And oh how sweet you are, indeed.”

“Don’t kill each other!” the twins chorus. Sylus chuckles and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

“Leave us,” he demands. “We have ways of… negotiating. Even if it takes all night…”

There’s some shuffling before you hear their footsteps recede down the hallway until silence remains.

“That was mean,” you whine. He tilts his head, swiping his upper lip with his tongue ever so slowly.

“You think that was mean? Oh… you underestimate me.”

He rises from your thighs and kneels on the bed, but his large frame still towers over you. “Wait, I—”

A snap of his fingers seals your mouth shut. You see the crimson specks floating around your mouth and protest, but they’re reduced to muffled squeals.

“Like I said before… you have quite the mouth on you today.”

Your eyes enlarge when you see a black-red tentacle rise from between your thighs. It sparks at the tip, which transforms into a cock-head to simulate a human penis. It’s not too thick, but it still makes your heart beat erratically.

Sylus takes both your hands and squeezes the right one first. “If you want me to keep going, squeeze your right hand,” He squeezes the left one next. “If it’s too much and you want me to stop, squeeze your left.”

His thoughtfulness brings those butterflies back. You squeeze your right hand and he nods, commanding the tentacle to run its tip up and down your folds. It brushes your clit every so often, which makes you sigh in pleasure. Then it enters you slowly, your arousal making things run smoothly.

It penetrates you about six inches deep before pulling out halfway, only to slam back into you with greater force. Your cries are muffled, but Sylus can tell you’re enjoying yourself by how your eyes roll back. The appendage thrusts into you at a maddening pace, your body rocking back and forth from the notion, and Sylus enjoys seeing the erotic sight of your tits bouncing. The tendrils around your breasts constrict while smaller ones branch off, wrapping around your nipples and teasing them too.

The make-shift gag around your mouth converts into another cock-head tentacle, forcing its way in so you’re sucking it off. Sylus groans at the beautiful sight of you submitting to it so willingly.

“You’re so pretty when you submit… I can’t imagine how sexy you’ll look when I take you,” he praises.

So many parts of you are being stimulated and you’re sure you’ll come again soon with how each thrust, both in your pussy and mouth, speeds up. It’s almost like they were losing control, taking you with them. It’s not until you feel a small spark from below that you yelp.

The sensation was like static electricity that you get if you rub your feet on a carpet. Not life-threatening, but a nuisance that stings for a brief second.

“My Evol is energy manipulation… that energy is hard to control sometimes…” Sylus says in a low voice. “It might even shock you.”

You can’t hear much over the squelching noises from your pussy and mouth as the tentacles work into you, hungrily, greedily, until the build-up from below is enough to cause your whole body to shake involuntarily. Your orgasm approaches and then is heightened when a small jolt of electricity shocks your clit.

The tentacle in your mouth removes itself, so you can scream until your voice gives out. The other one leaves your pussy once you stop shaking, and you are still on the bed, catching your breath. However, you feel something warm and wet on your stomach, so you lift your head enough to see spurts of cum leaking from Sylus’ cock.

His hands are still holding your own. Did he come from simply watching you?

“I’m not going to apologize,” he says without a hint of remorse. “You excite me.”

You’re flattered, truly. Especially when his cock is still erect, almost angry with need by how much it throbs. You wonder if it’s painful.

The mist around your wrists vanishes, but your body is dragged off the bed to the opposite side of the room, where Sylus’ grand wall mirror reaches the ceiling. You’re suspended in front of it and he wraps his arm around your waist from behind, twirling your hair with his other hand.

“Do you know how irresistible you are? Such temptation… that’s why I’m taking my time,” He takes his finger, swipes across your stomach, and gathers enough cum to coat his digit before lifting it to your mouth. “Open.”

You obey and he lets you taste himself, the action so wicked. So dominating. So sexy. His cum is salty and slightly bitter, but addictive.

“Good girl. Are you ready for what’s next?”

“Yes.”

His Evol controls your limbs and suddenly, you’re flipped upside-down with Sylus’ cock in front of your lips while your pussy is facing his. Your legs are wrapped around his neck and you’re taken aback at the extreme position.

“I’ve always thought Standing 69’s would be… enthralling. Always wanted to try it.”

The blood rushing to your head blurs your focus and your adrenaline spikes at the thought of possibly falling. But Sylus’ powers are strong and you’ve yet to see them falter. As if he can read your thoughts, he says, “Don’t worry, kitten. Rest assured I won’t drop you on your pretty little head.”

“It’s still scary…”

“I know. But isn’t that what makes it thrilling?” He pulls you closer by placing his hands on your ass, placing a chaste kiss on your cunt. “The sooner you finish, the sooner I’ll have you right-side up.”

Another challenge you can’t back down from. You take Sylus’ cock in your mouth and it reaches the back of your throat quickly from its impressive length. It’s also thicker in girth than the tentacle you sucked off earlier, which makes you gag.

Sylus throws his head back, panting from how soft and warm your mouth feels. He snaps his fingers to release your wrists, allowing your hands to find purchase on the back of his thighs.

“If it becomes too much, squeeze twice.”

You respond by bobbing your head up and down, which earns a sharp inhale from him. He isn’t one to fall behind, so he indulges in your sopping cunt like a glutton, moaning and grunting into it like an animal. Meanwhile, you relax your jaw so it becomes easier to adjust to his size, swirling your tongue as you maneuver up and down.

Your eyes shift to the mirror, seeing your compromised position and lewd actions. You barely recognize yourself or Sylus for that matter. He’s so engrossed in eating you out that his eyes are closed like he’s enjoying heaven on Earth. It pushes you to work harder, keeping up with his pace.

Right before Sylus is about to reach his peak, you hear another snap. He stops eating you out and you feel something bumpy rub itself against your pussy. Then Sylus’ fingers spread your ass cheeks and you feel it probing around your other hole.

Your mouth stills and your eyes widen at the sight of a black-red tendril that’s now ribbed at the tip. It slowly enters, stretching you to take each ribbed section, simulating the action of being fucked repeatedly. Sylus is back at work, inserting his tongue into your vagina in hopes it’ll distract you from the burn, but it only makes you clench harder.

“Relax…” he reminds you before diving back in again. He’s bucking his hips to remind you to continue, and you do your best as saliva pools so much that it drips down near your eyes. Everything feels too much, too tight, especially when the tentacle starts fucking your asshole. The ribbed texture only adds to the intensity and hits spots that border pain and pleasure.

Sylus’ hips begin to stutter and you’re seconds away from passing out from the light-headedness. Fortunately, he finishes in your mouth, the thick viscosity of his cum coating your throat while you orgasm for the third time tonight.

The noises he lets out are feral and if you had the chance, you’d record them so you could get off to them another night. You feel the pressure in your ass disappear and as promised, you’re right-side up again, but your limbs feel like jelly. Sylus wraps his arm around your waist, his hold secure as he flashes you a satisfied grin.

“Open.” You’re still in a daze, but the command gets through to you and you show him your mouth. When he sees you have swallowed, he hums in approval. “You really do hold up your end of the bargain. I suppose I’ll finally give you what you want.”

He grabs your hand and places it on his dick, which is slippery from your saliva. He’s still semi-erect but a few strokes is all it takes to get him up and running again. The man’s a beast and refuses to be in a cage.

Guiding you to the bed, he lays down first on the mattress, his hands clasped behind his head as he rests on a pillow. In the blink of an eye, you’re suspended over him, the black-red mist parting your thighs and slowly lowering you until your pussy barely grazes his tip. Your wrists are bound behind your back now and you’re like a puppet, bent to his will.

“What do you desire, Kitten?”

“You,” you beg. “Please.”

“You wish for me to take you raw?”

You’re nodding like your life depended on it. “Yes.”

“You wish for me to use you?”

“To your heart’s content.”

He says nothing else and sinks you onto his fat cock, and despite the many sessions he’s used to prep you, there’s still a slight burn from how much he stretches you. It feels incredible as he bottoms out, knocking the breath out of both of you.

“Oh god…” you say, trembling from how full you feel. “You’re so big…”

“And you’re so tight. It’s like your pussy doesn’t want to let go of me. So greedy.”

The mist controls your pliant body, helping you bounce up and down without pausing for a break. Sylus does a jazz hands motion with the widest grin on his face.

“Look, kitten. No hands.”

You almost growl at his cheap jokes, but his throbbing cock deters you from your thoughts, almost impaling you from its brute force. Sylus reaches out and pulls you so your chest meets his, his arm hooked around your back to hold you in place, giving you a short moment of reprieve.

“Raise your head,” he commands. You feel so drained, but you force yourself to do it and he gives you a quick smooch. “I need you to relax.”

The ribbed tentacle is back and you feel it gliding in between your ass cheeks, prodding your rim every so often like it’s mischievous.

“S-Sylus, it’ll be too much,” you say.

“You can handle it. But let me know now if you want to stop.”

You bite your lower lip, considering his words. “No. Don’t stop.”

“That’s my girl…” The tendril pushes into your asshole, taking its time as each ribbed section feels like a repeated attack, pushing the limits of your body. You’re utterly stuffed once it’s in as far as Sylus allows and you feel his cock throb in your sore pussy.

Sylus jerks his hips first and then the tentacle joins as they pump in and out of you, alternating and becoming more violent. You’re biting down in the juncture between his neck and shoulder to steady yourself, and he lets out a strained fuck, yes, thrusting up into you so hard that you sob, tears pricking your eye.

Just when you think there aren’t any surprises left, a second tentacle sneaks around to your lips, seizing its opportunity to enter when you gasp. It gags you and now all three of your holes are being used and abused, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The stimulation is overwhelming, the pressure bottling, your pussy squeezing Sylus’ like a vice—you’re both not going to last much longer.

“That’s it, that’s it—fuck, I adore you,” he pants, closing his eyes and focusing his energy to give you his all. The tendril occupying your mouth releases you, allowing the mantra of Sylus’ name to fall from your lips as euphoria greets you.

You’ve come many times tonight, but this one saturates you in overwhelming pain and pleasure. Everything is sore and you can’t stop seeing four of everything until Sylus lifts you by the hips, coming on his stomach and not inside you. You collapse onto his chest when the mist dissipates, the two of you catching your breath.

There isn’t enough money in the world to convince you to move, not after what you’ve experienced. Yet something lifts you off Sylus and you’re about to cry again.

“No, no more…”

“Hush now,” The mist positions you in Sylus’ arms bridal-styled as he gets off the bed, his strong arms securing you. “We’re going to the bathroom to clean ourselves up. You’re staying with me for the night.”

You nuzzle into his embrace like a kitten, and a fond smile rests on his face.

“Okay.”

A/N: You made it to the end! Yipee! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. PLEASE let me know if you enjoyed. 🌹

#sylus smut #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus qin #my writing #lads smut #lnds sylus

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anniebeemine · 11 days ago

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could do a fic about nerdy season 1-3 Spencer and reader. Like maybe they keep the relationship a secret but maybe Penelope shows up at Readers house (or Derek to Spencer’s) unannounced. Maybe they were having *** and they had to stop to answer the door and then that how they figure it out or they’re like kissing on the couch and they just walk in and see them. Yeah… Thanks!

I'm not going to lie, I giggled so hard at this

warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, slight suggestiveness

Spencer’s lips trail along your jawline, his hand gently tangling in your hair as the two of you sink into the couch, the quiet hum of his voice whispering sweet things in your ear. These moments alone together were rare and fleeting, made all the more thrilling by the fact that no one else knew about the two of you.

“I missed you today,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, shy smile as his fingers brush along your cheek. The tenderness of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, pulling you further into the bliss of the moment.

"I was four feet away from you."

He pushed a strand of hair from your face. "Too far for my liking."

Just as you lean in to kiss him, a loud voice breaks through the apartment.

“That was an absolute train wreck! I am nev—” Penelope’s voice rings out as she steps through the door, clearly not expecting the lights to be so dim. “Are you here?”

Your eyes widen, and Spencer’s face goes pale as you both freeze, still half tangled in each other.

“Fuck,” you whisper, panic flooding through you as Penelope’s footsteps get closer. With no time to think, you give Spencer a firm shove. He barely has a second to react before he’s tumbling off the couch, landing on the floor with a soft, surprised umph. You quickly sit up, leaning back against the cushions in what you hope is a nonchalant pose, trying to look as if you’d been sitting there casually the entire time.

Penelope rounds the corner, her gaze sweeping over you. “What’s up with you?” She steps further into the room, shrugging off her coat as she grumbles about her date, oblivious to the chaos she just interrupted. You watch, heart pounding, as she turns to hang it up. In that split second, Spencer seizes the opportunity, crawling toward the kitchen on hands and knees, looking up at you with wide eyes as he suppresses a laugh.

You bite back a grin, nodding to him in encouragement as he silently shuffles away. The moment he disappears behind the counter, Penelope turns back around, eyeing you curiously. You quickly adjust your face into what you hope is a look of calm understanding.

“What’s with you?” she asks, eyes narrowing as if she can sense something's off.

You give a nonchalant shrug, clearing your throat. “N-nothing. How’d the date go?”

She sighs, flopping onto the couch beside you. “Oh, don’t even get me started. Disaster doesn’t even cover it,” she mutters, glancing at the clock. “I left early. If I have to hear one more grown man’s TED Talk on crypto… Well, let’s just say there won’t be a second date.”

You nod sympathetically, trying to ignore the faint sounds of Spencer shifting in the kitchen. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she says, dramatically throwing a hand over her forehead. “Ugh, but forget him. You’re acting weird—what’s really going on here?” She gives you a knowing smirk, scanning you up and down.

You force a laugh, trying to keep your tone light. “Nothing! Just… relaxing.”

She shakes her head, preparing to stand. “Wine? In the kitchen like usu-”

“I’ll get it!” You say, a little too quickly. “I’ve been on the couch for hours. I need to get up.” You stand with a dramatic stretch. “I’ll get it. Bottle or glass?”

“Bottle.” Penelope snorted. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Derek too.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression calm, plastering on a smile. “Derek? No problem at all,” you say, already mentally bracing for another close call. You dart into the kitchen, where Spencer is crouched by the fridge, his eyes wide as he realizes what Penelope just said.

“Derek’s coming here?” he mouths, panic evident on his face.

“Yep,” you whisper back, trying to stifle a laugh. You pull open the fridge and grab a bottle of wine, handing it to Spencer, who stands up and straightens his shirt, still looking flustered.

You return to the living room, balancing two big bottles of wine, just in time to hear Penelope launch into a passionate rant about the horrors of modern dating. She waves her hands wildly, recounting her night with dramatic flair, entirely oblivious to anything else around her.

“...and then he actually said, ‘So, what’s your portfolio like?’ Can you believe that?” she exclaims, exasperated. "He really believes that it's the future."

You nod along sympathetically, trying to keep a straight face as you catch sight of Spencer, who is stealthily crawling behind the couch, inching his way toward the hallway. He freezes whenever Penelope’s hand movements get a little too close, but he keeps moving, finally slipping out of sight down the hall.

Just as you open your mouth to respond, there’s a faint click of a door closing, and Penelope’s head whips around. “Did you hear that?”

You shrug, forcing a casual tone. “Oh, yeah. This building has weird echoes sometimes. Probably just the neighbors.”

She narrows her eyes, but the wine bottle in your hand is too enticing a distraction for her to think too hard about it. She grabs it, and you’re about to sit down when the door swings open, and Derek strolls in, greeting you both with a wide grin.

“Hey, troublemakers! I heard we’re in need of some quality company,” he teases, scanning the room with an amused smirk.

Without missing a beat, he plucks the bottle right out of Penelope’s hands, taking a sip as he settles into the chair in the corner. “Alright, babygirl, tell me all about this train wreck of a date,” he says, taking another sip directly from the bottle, completely at home.

Penelope sighs dramatically, launching right back into her story, while you do your best to stifle a smile, stealing a quick glance down the hallway. Somewhere behind a closed door, Spencer is hopefully catching his breath—and probably laughing just as hard as you are.

You start inching back, trying to slip away to check on Spencer, but Derek and Penelope’s conversation pulls you in, and you find yourself sinking into the couch instead. Before you know it, you’re trading dating horror stories with Penelope, her laughter filling the room as you recount the painfully awkward blind date that still haunts you.

“…and then he just… pulls out a slideshow—of his beetle collection. Like, on his phone!” you laugh, barely able to keep a straight face. "I'm all for brainiacs, even one's with hobbies, but that was... well, too much."

Penelope clutches her sides, gasping between laughs. “Please tell me you didn’t stay through all the beetles!”

“Oh, I did,” you groan, shaking your head. “He insisted on showing me every one. Some were actually cute… but I don’t think I’ve eaten jello since.”

Derek snorts from his chair, sharing his own nightmare of an evening involving a woman who only communicated in astrological signs. You’re so caught up in the stories that you don’t notice when he stands up and starts heading down the hall.

You trail off mid-sentence, the realization dawning on you just as Derek disappears around the corner. Your face goes pale as you try to cover, glancing at Penelope, who looks at you in confusion.

“Are you okay?” she asks, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow.

You force a laugh, trying to brush it off. “Yeah! Just… uh… waiting for Derek to get back. He, uh, just wandered off mid-story, you know?”

She shrugs, unfazed. “He probably just needed a break from all the single life horror.”

You nod, but your gaze keeps flickering toward the hallway, your heart pounding. If Derek opens the wrong door, he might stumble right into Spencer’s hiding spot. You hold your breath, nerves on edge as you wait for Derek to return from the hallway. Every possible scenario races through your mind, each one ending with Spencer getting caught. But when Derek finally steps back into the living room, he looks as relaxed as ever, carrying on as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. You let out a silent sigh of relief, shoulders sinking as the tension finally melts away.

The evening drifts on, and the wine flows freely. By the time Derek and Penelope start getting ready to leave, Penelope’s cheeks are flushed, and she’s practically giggling at every word you say. You grab her coat, draping it over your arm as you walk them to the door.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Derek says, chuckling as he takes Penelope’s heels from her hands and holds them along with his own coat. She’s already slipped into your slippers, wiggling her toes as Derek helps her into her coat and steadies her with a firm grip. His gaze lingers on the coat rack a little too long.

She sways a little, leaning into Derek’s side, and he wraps an arm around her, keeping her upright. “These are surprisingly comfortable,” she mumbles, glancing down at the slippers on her feet with a lopsided grin.

“They’re all yours,” you say, laughing. “One of the perks of drunken nights here, I guess.”

As they reach the door, Derek pulls you in for a quick hug, clapping you on the back. “See you Monday,” he says, stepping back into the hall.

“Goodnight!” you call after them.

Derek holds up a hand in farewell, but just as he’s turning to walk Penelope down the hallway, he calls out, “Goodnight, Reid!”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze, gripping the edge of the door. The moment feels like it stretches forever.

“Goodnight, Morgan,” Spencer mumbles, appearing behind you, a shy smile on his face.

Penelope squints at both of you, her expression momentarily confused. “When did he get here?” she asks, reaching for Spencer’s hand but missing and turning around with a little sway. “I’ve gotta stop the wine. I’m imagining things.”

She starts to wander unsteadily toward the elevator, and you watch with amusement as Derek quickly moves to catch up with her, keeping a steadying hand on her back.

“Come on, Garcia. Let’s get you home before you start having conversations with the elevator buttons,” he says with a chuckle. Derek nods at Spencer, then looks at you with a mock-serious expression. “You owe me big time,” he says, crossing his arms. “She’s going to ask about this tomorrow, and I’m going to let you tell her.”

You raise an eyebrow, your heart racing at the thought. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he replies, his smile widening as he glances back at Penelope, who is still rambling about needing to cut back on the wine. “Just remember, this was all your idea.”

“Great,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “I’ll start practicing my ‘it’s not what it looks like’ speech.”

Morgan laughs, the sound warm and light. “Good luck with that. Just know, I’ll be here to support you when she inevitably loses her mind about you and Spencer.”

As Penelope finally stumbles into the elevator with Derek’s help, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. “Thanks for not saying anything,” you tell him quietly.

“Hey, what are friends for?” he replies, giving you a reassuring smile as the elevator doors begin to close. "I wanna be there when you do!"

You watch them leave, a mix of anxiety and excitement swirling in your chest. With a soft sigh, you lean against the door, wondering how you’re going to face Penelope tomorrow—and whether you’ll be able to keep your secret with Spencer under wraps for just a little while longer.

As the elevator doors glide shut, sealing Derek and Penelope away, you turn back into the apartment, a giddy smile tugging at your lips. Just as the door clicks closed, Spencer steps away from the wall, his expression shifting from amusement to something more serious.

“Where were we?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you feel the tension from earlier finally dissipate. “You mean before we almost got caught?” you tease, crossing your arms as you lean against the back of the couch.

Spencer takes a step closer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hands rest on your hips, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I think we were here. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

You hummed. “I think we were a little further than this.”

Before you can say anything more, Spencer’s expression shifts. In one swift, confident move, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his. Your heart races as you melt into the kiss, returning his affection with equal fervor. It feels exhilarating and safe all at once, the world outside completely forgotten.

When you finally pull away, breathless and smiling, you look up at him, eyes sparkling with joy. “Wow,” you whisper, feeling the thrill of the moment. You giggle. "Your glasses are fogged up."

Spencer grins back at you, his cheeks tinged with a hint of color. “Yeah, wow,” he echoes, a glimmer of mischief returning to his eyes.

Without thinking, you take his hand, tugging him gently down the hallway. “Come on,” you say, excitement bubbling within you. “Let’s keep this going.”

He chuckles, letting you pull him along. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here,” you reply, glancing back over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “I think we learned our lesson.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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writemekpop · 10 months ago

Text

Let Me Love You | Lee Jeno

Summary: Jeno confesses he loves you, but you can't say it back. What happens when he finds out the truth?

Genre: College AU, established relationship AU, angst

Word count: 1k

It was your last class before the end of the year. After four years of college, you were about to graduate. Your entire class were sitting in a circle on the floor.

You winked at your new boyfriend, Jeno. He grinned shyly back.

“I thought it would be fun if we all said an anonymous message to a classmate. They’ll know who it is!” the professor said.

Jeno took a deep breath and said, “I just wanted to say… I love you, and we’ll be okay, I promise.”

Your heart began to race. Jeno… loved you? He kissed you every second you were alone. He sat for hours, stroking your head in your lap while you slept. But you’d only been dating two months �� you had no idea he loved you already.

It was your turn next. The words swirled around your head - I love you I love you I love you I love you - but it was like your throat was blocked.

The professor repeated your name. You felt Jeno shift next to you.

It was now or never.

You forced out an “I…“ but then, you remembered the way you used to mumble, ‘You too’ every time your ex, Jaemin, said ‘I love you’, even though you didn’t mean it, you were just scared he would get angry.

Did you love Jeno? Or were you just saying it?

“Let’s move on,” the professor said. The moment was lost.

For the rest of the hour, you couldn’t meet Jeno’s eye. Sweat stuck your cotton shirt to your spine. You had to be the biggest idiot in the world. Jeno was the perfect guy, and now you’d rejected him in front of everyone.

At the end of the day, you ran to Jeno in your secret spot, by the cherry tree at the far end of the garden.

Jeno had his hands in his pockets, his head hanging, and was kicking a stone again and again.

“Jeno?” you said.

Jeno slumped against the tree. “’Sup.”

“You’re not mad, are you?”

Jeno kicked the stone again. “Nope. It’s all fine and dandy.”

You gulped. “Look, I’m so sorry. I- I wish I could make everything better.” Jeno’s eyes were hard. “You can’t fix this.” There was a lump in your throat, and you prayed you wouldn’t cry. “Look, I should have just said it! I do mean it!”

Jeno looked up, brows furrowed. “What?”

“I do love you! Of course, I do!” You gasped. “You’re kind and funny and like- gorgeous – and the only person I can actually be me around.” Jeno’s eyes widened. “You… love me?”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t say it back when you confessed in the class!”

Jeno blinked. “Wait, what? Before, I- was talking about- my brother. Haechan! He got into some major trouble with our parents and… I wanted to remind him it’ll all be okay…”

Cold spread over your whole body. “You mean you didn’t say… you loved me?”

Of course Jeno hadn’t been talking about you. Why would he? You’d barely started dating – it was too soon for love! And now, you’d gone and confessed your feelings like an absolute fool. You’d scared Jeno off for life.

Jeno bit his lip. “I can’t believe you thought - I was talking - about you…”

You cupped your face with your hands. “Ugh! I take it back. Please forget this ever happened.”

Jeno said nothing.

You were right. Jeno was probably going to run away from you at the speed of light. You braced yourself for the inevitable sting of rejection.

But suddenly, you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist. You opened your eyes, and saw Jeno, his head tilted, peeking at you with a huge smile.

“Don’t make fun of me…” you groaned. “I can’t take it.” Jeno smiled even wider. “I love you too, Y/n.”

“I said don’t make-“ you started, then stopped mid-sentence. “You what?”

Jeno bumped your nose with his. “I love you. You’re basically my favourite person on the planet. I thought that was obvious.”

Jeno’s gaze never left yours, steady and true. You wanted to pinch yourself. This had to be a dream.

Jeno’s eyelids fluttered, and you realised how close you were to each other, your faces casting shadow on each other in the afternoon heat. Jeno moved closer, his eyes half-closing, and kissed you.

Jeno’s soft lips on yours, his bubblegum flavour, was even more thrilling now you knew he loved you. You could have kissed him forever.

When you pulled back, Jeno moved his lips to your ear. “You wuv me,” he whispered.

“Ew, no! That sounds so cringey!” you said, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you go – he kissed your ear, your neck, your collarbone, repeating all the time, “you wuv meeee…”

Somehow, you both collapsed on the ground, your limbs tangled in the dust. Jeno’s face was squished against the ground, his eyes staring deep into yours.

“Never stop telling me you love me,” he said, his voice low.

“I promise,” you whispered.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

Note

When you want to tease Bucky, you send him pics involving a peek of your underwear.

When he retaliates, he sends you a video of him devouring a peach 😂

UGH. Yes, please. I may have changed the fruit though.

Starving, Darling

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You tease Bucky and he retaliates in the best way. Word Count: Over 800 Warnings: Teasing, plum eating (bahaha), s/exy times implied, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Happy FriYAY, lovelies! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was rare for you to finish up work early on a Friday, but you had worked over the previous four days and your boss didn’t like you going over your normal hours. You weren’t going to complain when it meant you had the afternoon off. You were, however, not thrilled that Bucky didn’t play hooky with you this afternoon. Like you, he was a hard worker and you knew he had a few things to finish up before he could join you at home.

It didn’t mean you couldn’t play.

What else were you going to do to get through the afternoon?

“Sure you can’t get off early?”

The text was innocent enough. The photo beneath it of you was not. Sprawled out in the middle of the bed with your hand down your panties, you wondered if his super soldier eyes picked up just how wet you were through the fabric.

“Or should I get off by myself? Lick my fingers clean and tell you how good my pussy tastes?”

A heartbeat later, a message from Bucky popped up. God, how fast was he typing? “Don’t you fucking dare. Only one getting you off is me.”

You smirked, wondering how far you could push before there were consequences. “Don’t know, old man. Might need to break out my blue friend. This pussy isn’t going to fuck itself.”

Bucky left the message on read.

A few minutes passed and he still hadn’t responded. You frowned as you checked to see if he was typing anything. You almost apologized for the “old man” remark. He knew you didn’t mean that, right?

The ding of a new message was one of the happiest sounds you heard all day. Would he tell you off for your sass? Tease you back? Your heart raced a bit when you realized he sent you a video. Maybe whatever he had to say was too much to type out.

You recognized the break room when you clicked on the video, gasping when Bucky’s face came into view. Even though he couldn’t see you through the screen, it was like his blue eyes stared into your soul. You could make out the gray hairs on his short beard from how close he was to the device. You wished you could bite his chin.

All in good time.

“You know what a good fruit for old men is? Plums,” he said, a bit of hair falling in his face as he looked down.

…what?

“Good for bone health and improving your memory,” he went on, the rumble of his voice mesmerizing you as he looked back at the screen. “Not to mention they’re delicious. So fucking sweet.”

As Bucky brought a plum to his mouth, he kept his eyes on the device and ran his tongue along the piece of fruit. His hand dwarfed it, a subtle reminder of how big your man was. Your clit throbbed when he bumped his nose against it and gently inhaled. It was the only warning you got before he sank his teeth in to devour it.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered as you watched him have his fill. Juice spilled from the corner of his mouth as he growled, reminding you of how eager he got whenever he ate you out. He was relentless when it came to your taste, demanding you give him more. And you’d give it all to him. “Fuck.”

“And still doesn’t taste as sweet as you,” he said, digging his thumb into the plum as deep as it could go. “Bet your pussy’s clenching right now, wishing I was there to fill it up. Maybe I’ll make you ride my tongue before you ride my cock. Show me how good I know you are.”

“Yes, please,” you moaned, your hips shifting on the bed and wishing he was there to relieve the friction. The first time you sat on his face, you hesitated. You’d never forget how he grabbed your hips and helped guide you up and down, moaning as you coated his tongue with your release.

Champion pussy eater and best cock I’ve ever had.

He sucked the digit clean as he narrowed his eyes. “So be good ‘til I get home, keep your legs open so I can dive right in, and don’t you dare touch my cunt again before I get my mouth on it,” he ordered, his voice deep and knowing before he took one more bite. “And I expect an apology for getting me hard during a meeting when you weren’t under the table to suck me off.”

You licked your lips, wishing he was there to slide the heavy weight of his cock to the back of your throat.

“Love you, doll,” he added, licking the last drop from his lip before the video ended.

Well played, old man.

You smiled as you typed back, “Love you, too, and I'll have your dessert waiting.”

“Good because I’m starving.”

This man. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

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crguang · 8 months ago

Text

now i bend like a willow thinking of you

You don’t do sleepless nights. But tonight, Kafka’s absence feels heavier than usual.

fem!reader, 1.2K words of fluff really

A/N: can’t believe kafka of all people got me writing… i thought of this cute scenario and it wouldn’t leave my mind until i wrote it. curse you, sexy woman!!!!

Thermostat set to just below room temperature and unable to see a foot in front of you due to the room’s absolute darkness, it won’t be long before you surrender to your body’s fatigue. You stayed up later than usual, your mind restlessly running circles around a certain woman. You’ve willed it to shut up and let you sleep for almost an hour now, to no avail. Your limbs are heavy, your cheek is comfortably buried in your pillow and still you think of her. Honestly, how pathetic can you be— unable to sleep because her presence leaves behind a substantial silence whenever she leaves your sight. It’s strange, it’s the first time quiet has made you uneasy. You’ve built your life in the deep of it and found a home in solitude, yet…

In the past few years you’ve known her, you’ve learned that Kafka leaves an impression in any room she steps into, purposefully or not. She’s elusive and her thoughts even more so, but impossible to overlook. Maybe it’s the obvious disinterest in almost everything that reflects through her eyes. Maybe it’s the fixed curl of her lips into her signature enigmatic smile, leaving you with the sensation that she has something up her sleeve. Perhaps it’s her unusual hair color. You don’t know. Despite her infuriating ways and the amusement she finds in toying with people, you’ve always noticed her; the subtle perfume she wears, the twitch of her mouth when something catches her eye, her ridiculous attention to detail when it comes to coats. You feel you could notice everything about her and still not know who she is. Or rather, still have things to discover like she’s an entire universe compacted into one person. Could you be content learning her if that was the only thing you dedicated your years to?

You bring a palm to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up, and groan in disgust. No way the thought of her was flustering you so. How deplorable. It’s only been four days since she offered you a wink as goodbye and left to complete part of Elio’s Script with Silver Wolf in tow. You’re stuck with Blade and Sam, the brooding ones, and it would be fine if the quiet wasn’t making your skin crawl. Such an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling. You pat your cheek a couple times and shake your head. You shift into the bed, adjusting the comforter over your body. You will not let Kafka take up any more space in your mind when you should be peacefully asleep, enough is enough.

You’re drowsy and minutes away from finally passing out when the door creaks open. You hear it shut softly seconds later. Your muddled mind only allows your muscles to tense up in the face of a potential threat before the realization hits you when the sound of heels clacking across the floor registers in your brain. You sit up in a flash, reach for the lamp on your bedside table to flick the light open, then turn towards your supposed assailant with narrowed eyes.

Kafka blinks at you when you meet her gaze, and her fingers stop fiddling with the button of her shirt as she stands in the middle of the room without her favourite coat. You stare at each other for a moment before her eyelids lower perceptibly and her lips stretch into that usual smile.

“…Ugh.” You ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at seeing her in the dim yellow light and turn the lamp back off. You can feel her amusement as you settle back into a comfortable position on your side, an arm under the pillow.

You’re still sleepy, but now that she’s actually here your traitorous mind has been lit up again. You hear the rustling of her clothes as she unclasps the various straps and buckles of her outfit. Without saying a word, she fills the silence around you in a way that brings relief to your soul. It’s stupid, you think, how easily she reduces you to a lovestruck fool. You hate the power she holds over you, yet crave its soothing effect.

“How was the mission?” You mutter, eyes still shut.

You hear her clothes hit the floor when she replies with a drawl, “Boring. Long.”

You catch the notes of exasperation in her voice. “At least you got to stretch your legs.”

She hums. You guess she’s rummaging through your closet for something to sleep in when she pauses, presumably finds what she’s looking for, then closes the door.

“Don’t worry,” she says, her tone undoubtedly teasing, “we’ll find a use for you yet.”

“Fuck you,” you utter without a bite, fatigue slurring your words a little.

Her following chuckle makes you smile. There are muted footsteps on the wooden floor as Kafka approaches the bed, tugging on the tie in her hair to set it loose from her ponytail. She runs a hand through the freed locks.

“Move,” she orders simply.

You grumble, brows furrowing in offense even as you comply and make space for her on the left side of the bed. “You’re so bossy. It’s literally my bed.”

She makes a noise of agreement while slipping under the covers. Her chest presses against your back and a hand sneaks under your shirt to slither across your stomach to the valley of your breasts where it rests comfortably. Her thigh lodges itself between yours. You hear the faintest breath of satisfaction as the tip of her nose brushes your exposed nape. Kafka is warm and secure against you, two things you feel a bit silly to associate with her. They best describe her in this moment, however, and you’re too tired to fight how relaxed she makes you feel.

“…You’re wearing my shampoo,” she says suddenly. You feel her breath on your skin.

“No.”

Embarrassment washes over you. You forgot that you washed your hair with her shampoo that morning because you always liked the scent and you missed her. You didn’t think she would be back in at least a couple more days and thought that the smell would have time to fade away before she could notice. Ugh.

You can almost see her teasing, growing smile in your mind’s eye as she makes a show of inhaling your hair more deeply, burying her nose in it and taking a long audible breath.

“That is definitely my shampoo.”

“I ran out of mine and yours was right there,” you reply dismissively.

Kafka smiles. She sees through your charade, of course, she always has. Her index finger traces inconsequential shapes into the skin of your chest.

“You missed me.”

You don’t contradict her. “Whatever.”

Your hand moves under your shirt to lace your fingers with hers and she hums contently behind you. Kafka leaves many statements unsaid, masterfully navigates a conversation to only reveal what she wants you to know, but you know her enough for these words to not get lost in the sensations she gives you. It’s the middle of the night and she came to your room fully dressed in her everyday clothes. She only had the idea to discard her coat before seeking you out moments after coming back from her mission, and now she’s curled around you like a satisfied cat, breathing in the shampoo in your hair. She’s missed you too.

With Kafka’s heartbeat against your back and her controlled breaths on the back of your neck, sleep comes ridiculously easy. You doze off, the sound of her alike a lullaby meant for your ears only.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #kafka x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #kafka x you #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail kafka

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

Text

If Given the Chance… (1)

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader | SteveRogers x Female!Reader (ugh I don’t know it’s messy)

summary: After an accident on a mission, Bucky and Steve find themselves in the body of the other and both soon begin to act like it too. But while Bucky tries to fix the problem, Steve takes his opportunity to taste his deepest desires, falling into a role he’d never thought he’d get to play: your boyfriend.

a/n: remember this ask? yeah... it took a completely different turn

word count: 3.4k

warnings: a confused and hopeless Stevie, pining, agony, angst, betrayal, fluff, a little heated, this borders dub-con but then again not really, still - !MINORS DNI!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

(please excuse my horrid Photoshop skills, but no GIF combination could match my vision...)

Change. What was it really? Bucky never thought people truly changed. That deep in their hearts they’d always be the same. And yet, he felt as though he had been part of three different personas so far. He’d always wondered what it must be like to just switch bodies with someone. To represent something different - a contrast to what the body was used to.

He didn’t need to wonder anymore. Because he’d experienced it. The person he had been before Hydra was not the same as the winter soldier. And neither was the person he was today - different from both of his prior states. And even though he had lived through it, change, he was here, wondering what it must be like.

He’d read a poem once. A sad, hopeless one. But at the end, it said to read it again - from the bottom up, and its meaning shifted entirely. Transformed from a depressing mood into an optimistic one. Changed, just like that.

So, Bucky wasn’t quite sure whether he had experienced that kind of change before. He’d changed looks, and people told him his heart had not shifted one bit. He’d changed occupations, and he’d not felt as though his values had stayed the same. He had contradicted everything he’d ever imagined change to be. Even though he never really knew what it was.

But now? Now he had proper change. A good one? He wasn’t sure. Not terrible, that was for certain. But definitely one he needed to reverse.

Steve’s eyes stared back at him through the shiny surface of the window. Confusion etched in his brow he’d never seen on his best friend before. The blonde hair disheveled, eyes more exhausted-looking than they usually did, he pushed a deep breath out of his lunges.

What a mess.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m okay, I’m just-“

“What? What is it?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“I’m... you.”

What a fucking mess.

So Steve was Bucky and Bucky was Steve. But at the same time, they were still themselves, just somehow stuck in the other’s body. It had been four hours since the incident and Bucky was still panicking. He felt the responsibility for the “team” weighing his body down - the body that wasn’t his, but most definitely the reason for his distress. They were about to arrive in the next thirty minutes and no one at the compound knew what had happened. No one. Not Tony, not Bruce, not you.

Oh god, you didn’t know your boyfriend was trapped in his best friend’s body. Bucky didn’t even know how he would start to explain it. You were very understanding and patient, but Bucky feared that this might introduce a new sphere of problems neither of you had encountered before.

The two friends hadn’t talked about it. Steve and Bucky both knew it was a problem that needed solving, but Steve had been awfully quiet ever since they boarded the Quinjet home. It certainly didn’t help Bucky relax. At least it was late in the night. The chances of encountering another Avenger when they would get back were small and left him a few hours of dealing with it all - maybe sleep it off.

Who was he kidding?

Bucky wouldn’t be sleeping. He would stay up, wait until it was a reasonable enough hour to drag Bruce to his lab and get him started on fixing the problem not even he knew the actual cause of.

Running, hiding, finding a weird machine, toppling over a storage rack, and the accidental push of a button. An explosion, heat, but no pain - just utter confusion.

Bucky shook his head as he took a seat beside Steve in the cockpit. Not even he would believe himself if he were told this story...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve hadn’t planned for this to happen. He just wanted to explain things to you, tell you what had occurred on the mission - even though he didn’t quite know himself - and then find Bucky. For a second, he had even forgotten. He had forgotten that, in a way, he was Bucky. And that you wouldn’t know until he told you that he was Steve. Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend who had been in love with you from the day he met you.

Yeah... that was an issue. Bucky didn’t know and neither did you. God behold, Steve got in the way of his oldest friend’s happiness. He would never do that. Especially not when that friend had suffered for so long. So, Steve had just kept to himself, watching as Bucky was the one holding you during movie nights, sleeping in your bed, and kissing you goodbye.

It hurt. But Steve had gotten used to the familiar sting in his chest whenever he witnessed his best friend’s hands on you or when your adoring smile was sent his way. He swallowed the pain like it was nothing, and it got easier every time. He still needed to remind himself though: You can’t, Steve. You don’t want to, Steve.

But now... now might have been the only opportunity to get away with it. No. He would never. He couldn’t.

“Bucky!” Your door opened and Steve felt your hands around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips. Wow.

Steve’s body was on fire. The stinging he usually felt in his chest now spreading through his entire body, creating goosebumps on his skin. It felt so different, so good.

Overwhelmed by the feeling, he stumbled forward, guiding you back by your hips and shutting the door with his foot.

Endless nights imagining what your pillowy lips would feel like on his seemed silly now that he tasted you. His mind had never even come close. You were so much softer, so much warmer... so much more rewarding than anything his imagination could cook up.

Steve was addicted now, there was no going back. You were like a drug that tied him to your supply forever.

His hands began to roam your body, moving your hair, smelling your scent, feeling every bump and curve of your body as he got lost in your embrace. It was too easy to forget it wasn’t him you were kissing. Steve was just as tall as your Boyfriend, he was just as strong - every movement, every look - it felt the same.

Hungrily, Steve’s wet kisses wandered down your neck until he reached the spot that drew a grasp from your lips and it made his pants feel tighter.

“What’s this about,” you chuckled as your palm gently pressed against his chest. Steve reluctantly loosened his grip around you just to see that shining smile of yours beaming up at him. Holy shit. This must be what heaven feels like.

“I just missed you-” his answer got swallowed in the crook of your neck again, Steve’s cheek settling to your skin when he mumbled the last part beneath your ear. “...a lot.”

You didn’t even know how much. And as you chuckled and ran your hands down his back, Steve wondered if he could even call it missing when he never really had you in the first place. But then you kissed his shoulder and Steve decided that he didn’t care. Your lips just felt a little too good not to miss in any circumstance - whatever it meant now - and he had lost you to his best friend somehow, so he was allowed to miss.

“Missed you too.” Steve smiled and began to pick up his kissing when he felt your lips press to his shoulder a second time.

It was strange how natural this interaction felt for Steve. He didn't know if that was because he had imagined it a hundred times, dreamt about you more nights than he liked to admit - each time waking with an ache in more places than one and the added incapability to stop it. Steve had not had a girlfriend since he met you. He tried a few hookups, each one with the picture of you in his head, the actual person beneath him serving merely the purpose of physical touch, but it wasn’t enough. Especially now that he knew what it could feel like - kissing you alone - nothing could ever compare.

Lost in his thoughts, his hands wandered down your body, squeezing parts of you he’d only ever imagined touching, and every breathy moan he pulled from you became a tiny celebration in his mind.

Your hands held on tight to his neck when his knee found its way between your legs, your head falling back, giving him just that much more ground to place his soft attacks. He growled against your skin when your sounds grew high pitched, unbelievable gratification consuming his body - driving him further.

This was perfect, this was all he ever wanted this- “Ah, Bucky!” This was wrong.

And Steve was reminded of what he was doing right now. His hands retracted immediately, but you clung to his neck like glue. “Please,” you whimpered and his head fell back into you like an instinct, the urge to bring you pleasure too strong to stop his movements entirely.

But, fuck, he was an awful person.

With trembling hands and a stinging in his chest, he stepped back from you. Your eyes stared at him in confusion, desperate for anything - pleasure, closure. And Steve wanted to give it all to you. But he wasn’t allowed to. He was Steve - your boyfriend’s best friend. A terrible one, too.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” he stuttered through the glossy shimmer forming in his eyes.

“What?” Shit. Steve turned before you could see the first tear fall from his eyes. He couldn’t bear seeing your face any longer - that beautiful, innocent face with so much irritation and sadness poisoning its features. You didn't deserve this, you didn’t deserve to be pulled into this mess by him. It was wrong, so fucking wrong.

Steve sped towards the lab immediately, barely missing Bucky on his way out of the glass doors. But Bucky merely sent a nod his way, leaving Bruce to greet him with an exhausted smile.

“You need to do something. Now.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey.”

Bucky turned around to see you standing in the doorway, a big smile instantly settling on his face. You looked beautiful, he thought every time he saw you - especially after a mission that lasted for several days in which he did not get to see you.

His fingers itched to reach out to you, pull you into him and just kiss your pretty face, but once he caught his left arm lifting, and missing the sleek black gleam he was so used to, Bucky was reminded that he needed to behave differently now.

He hadn’t told you about the accident yet. Bruce seemed to know what he was doing, so Bucky was just hopeful the issue would be resolved soon. Until then, he needed to cope with the constant panic surging through him at his and Steve’s states.

The desk chair squeaked when he tuned to you, watching as you roamed about Steve’s office and eyed the sketch he had framed on the cupboard. That’s when he noticed your posture - how your shoulders were slightly hunched, your head a little lower than usual, and a faint frown hiding behind the hairs falling into your face.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He stood up wanting to approach you but remembering his place again. Now he was just standing there, helpless and unsure of what to do as he watched you toy with the edges of the notebook laying in front of you.

You sighed. “Bucky is being weird... I hope he’s okay but he wouldn’t talk to me.” You glanced at him shortly and the corners of your mouth jerked downward. “I thought maybe... I don’t know, maybe you know what’s going on.” You stared at him hopefully. “Did something happen on the mission?”

I’m right here, baby. And I would be so much better if I could tell you.

Bucky willed his thoughts silent, finally stepping forward and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“It was a long mission, give him some time to rest...” God, he hated lying to you. But it was for the best. He didn’t want you to worry any more than you already did, as much as it hurt to see you this clueless.

Bucky could only imagine how exhausting this whole ordeal was for Steve. He was going through the same thing, but Steve had to juggle you - or as it seemed, ignore you - on top of it. The friends still hadn’t talked about what to do. There had just seemed to be a common understanding settled between them, and that was to keep as many people out of this as possible.

Still, Bucky wondered how his best friend was doing. This was an unusual situation, and he cared for him just as much as he did for you.

“Maybe you’re right.” You turned to him with a saddened face. “But I can’t help but feel like there is something else bothering him. I just want him to be okay...”

“We both do, doll.” Bucky couldn’t help it, he pulled you into his chest by your wrist - hoping it would be less intimate than by your waist like he always did - and tugged your head beneath his chin.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once your body molded against his, the familiar feeling of content mixing with the underlying tension he had been plagued with since the mission. That was what he had needed. To feel you again, touch you, have your arms hug him to your body, and be entranced by your perfume again.

It was hard not to kiss your hair, or inhale your shampoo too obviously when he held you like this. It was what he always did when he was Bucky - but now he was Steve. And Bucky never imagined he could hate being Steve so much.

He shook the thought immediately, focusing on you and squeezing you tight one more time before he let you go. He missed your touch the second you retracted your arms, sending a weak smile up to him. Oh, how he’d love to kiss that frown away, to touch you until he heard that beautiful laugh of yours again. But he couldn’t do it, he was not allowed to - he was Steve.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime.” He smiled reluctantly as he watched you leave with mixed feelings.

Bucky didn’t know how much longer he could endure this.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Thank fucking God!” Bucky exclaimed as he padded down his body - his own body.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of constant worry and agony, lonely nights, and the pressure of keeping this ridiculous secret. But Bruce had finally done it. Bucky didn’t know how - and it wasn’t super important to him either - but he was glad he finally had his own body back.

“You did it!” Steve stated with mild enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure if it made any difference anymore. He didn’t hate himself less for what had happened. But at least, now, he didn’t need to worry about making the mistake again.

Bruce just responded with a proud shrug, a blush almost forming on his cheeks before his smile fell again.

That’s when you entered the lab with a pile of manila folders in your hand.

“What’s going on in here?” You asked, excited to experience a light atmosphere in a room both Steve and Bucky were in. It had been different for a couple weeks now, and Bucky was still acting weird, but something told you, he was getting better. Well, maybe the laugh you had heard from the hallways had, but now he was just staring at you as Bruce did.

“What? Am I interrupting something? I just wanted to give you these files, Banner, I-” you trailed off when your eyes wandered from the men to the desk you had halted next to, a wild array of papers and opened digital files littering the work area as you placed your addition there as well.

You had always been a fast reader - a talent that came in handy more times than one would think - so your eyes scanned the documents in haste, collecting keywords and notes until they landed on a particularly concise one: Possible body switch triggers. What the hell? Super Soldiers. Consciousness. Machine. Serum. Third vessel for transfer. What the hell what the hell what the hell?!

You looked up, willing the confusion to the back of your mind as you pierced Bruce with a cold stare. “A body switch project? Really, Bruce? It’s not like we’re already down one person since Peter decided to test out his new jet-pack prototype.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. Instead, Bucky stepped forward with a reasoning tone. “Baby-“

“And you.” Your finger pointed at him. “I thought you were smarter. First, you’re acting all weird, and now you’re calling me ‘baby’ again,” you stated plainly, crossing your arms. Steve swallowed thickly, watching the interaction between you and Bucky play out with his lip between his teeth. “What- is this why you were behaving so weird? Are you in on this? Are you seriously participating as a lab rat?”

“I... we...” Bucky frantically searched the room for his teammates’ support, trailing off when everyone avoided his eyes. Traitors.

“Who is switching bodies? And why couldn’t you tell me?” The room had gotten silent, but you weren’t about to back down. You wanted answers, especially when the people you cared about did stupid things that risked their lives more than their job already did. You scanned each of them carefully, assessing which one was to break first under your solid stare. Steve was wringing his hands, his eyes trained on the ground - nervous, maybe, scared.

Bruce was sweating bullets. He hated being in fussy situations, always tense to keep the big guy down. He would speak first - de-escalation was his second nature… well, apart from the escalating one.

Bucky had his jaw wired shut, a frequent side eye assessing the state of his fellow coworkers carefully. Nobody wanted to break it to you. Especially since they had hidden the switch from you for two weeks. You weren’t big on betrayal and everyone knew it.

“They-“ Bruce started but was shut up by Bucky’s death stare quickly. How dare he do him so dirty?

“You were saying?” You zeroed in on the scientist, a hopeful yet clueless look on your face, but Bruce was too scared of Bucky to continue. He hated lying to you, everyone did.

But you wouldn’t budge, staring him down, challenging him to break the silence. What was so bad about something that hadn’t even happened yet?

But then a deep voice sounded from the other corner of the room. “Bucky and I did.” Less steady than usual and still avoiding your eyes, Steve let his hands fall to his sides. “On accident...”

And Bucky sighed, half relieved, half angry at his friend.

“What? When?”

“On the last mission,” Bruce chimed in, just to earn another stink eye from Bucky.

“The last mission two weeks ago? Two Weeks?!”

“I wanted to tell you, okay? But we thought it was best if we kept it a secret... for everyone’s sake.” The brunette super soldier stepped forward, his hands showing surrender when he moved into your personal space.

“And you didn’t think to include me? Your girlfriend?” You looked at him appalled. Why the hell did he not say anything? Would you have ever known had you not walked in on-

“I'm sorry.” Your breath hitched when Bucky pulled you into his arms, placing a firm kiss on your head before burying his face in your neck again.

Because that was when you realized - when you remembered - the last time it had happened.

Steve finally dared to look up at the couple in front of him only to find you staring at him over his best friend’s shoulder.

You knew.

Steve could see it in your eyes - that look you were giving him made him shudder. There was slight confusion in your stare, a little sadness, too. You knew, but Steve knew you wouldn’t lose a word over it.

He tore his longing stare from you and looked down bashfully, ticking his jaw before he could say or do anything stupid. That’s when he felt the sorrow covering his senses again, the hurtful pull on his heart that he had become so used to at the sight of you in Bucky’s arms.

He’s had you once, got to taste you once - and it was one time too many, he reminded himself.

And even though it hurt, he found comfort in the familiarity the feeling held.

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beatrixstonehill2 · 1 month ago

Text

A man with his phone out, conducting interviews walked the festival grounds of a local Pride event. He came upon a group of four girls and stopped, using his phone to pan across them as they giggled, huddling together. "What have we here? You ladies mind answering a quick survey."

"No," they said, shaking their heads.

"Excellent. From left to right, who am I speaking to?"

"Tiffany."

"Brooke."

"Jamie."

"Riley."

"OK, great, I'm Brett. So I'm conducting interviews with trans girls for polling purposes on our website."

"Awesome!" Tiffany said.

"What gave us away?" Riley asked, smiling big.

Brett smiled. "Oh you four don't pass very well, I could tell you were boys."

The girls all shifted, trying to hide the erections being called male gave them. Brooke's nine-inch cock very obviously strained against her shorts. She cooed softly.

Tiffany scoffed. "Ew, Brooke, you aren't about to cum are you?"

"No......" Brooke said.

"Easy, guys," Brett said. "I don't need you gooners cumming all over yourselves I'm sure you do plenty of that on your own. Speaking of which, from left to right, how many hours a day do you spend masturbating to pornography, and what's your preferred genre?"

"About eight hours," Tiffany said. "I watch videos of pregnant girls getting groped and raped on public transportation, especially if they have big boobs."

"Ten hours....." Brooke said. "I watch detrans hypnosis and forced detrans content the most."

"Six hours," Jamie said. "Mostly what Tiffany said. I love seeing pregnant college girls getting ganged up on and force fucked!"

"Ten hours," Riley said. "I watch extreme public bdsm and humiliation a lot. Some detrans stuff, too."

"Wow," Brett said. "Doing my work for me. Next question, how often do you fantasize about detransitioning?"

"All the time," Tiffany said. "I'm so sick of being on E, I've had like two breast reductions since high school. They keep getting so big I get dysphoric."

"Ugh, same, about to schedule my third reduction," Brooke complained, her cock very obviously erect. "I just want to commit and start taking testosterone like Ashley last year, he's so much hotter as a guy."

"A lot," Jamie said. "I see all the fun guys have groping and fucking girls and I'm so jealous. It's humiliating getting ass fucked by guys at frat parties instead of being the dominant one.... Every time I see a pregnant girl on campus I just want to rip off her clothes and show her I'm really a guy!"

Riley bit her lip. "I actually might've gone off estrogen last week...... I'm detransing."

"What!? Congrats!" Tiffany said.

"OMG lucky! I want to detrans soooo bad!" Brooke said.

Brett smiled. "Congrats. Next question..... how many fakegirls have you seen detrans this past year alone at college? Riley included, I guess."

"Oh God.... counting Riley? Ummmm....." Tiffany counted on her fingers, struggling to find the number. "At least ten. There's a rumor going around that Veronica is detransing, too."

"The one with the KK-Cup boobs? Wow, I can't blame her," Jamie said.

Brooke rubbed her cock through her shorts. "I know fifteen who detransed."

"Fifteen, who else am I missing?" Tiffany asked.

"Well, that cute art teacher, Miss Moore, the one who's like 23 with the big ass and the H-Cup implants...."

"Wait she's detransing? No way!" Riley said.

"Yep, she announced it on Instagram not too long ago.... I goon to her sometimes."

"Jesus Brooke, you're hopeless...." Tiffany said.

"And that couple, Emily and Lydia, you know the ones who're always wearing the skimpy dresses that show off their cocks?"

"No way are they detransing," Jamie said, rubbing her own growing erection in her shorts. "I don't believe it."

"It's true, I was in the girls' room, um..... eavesdropping one day and they went into a stall, made out, and shot up testosterone together, giggling like crazy."

"Wow, I thought I noticed their voices dropped, holy crap..... Well, uh, I could only think of like eight, so I'm out."

Riley shrugged. "I was thinking of fourteen, didn't know about Miss Moore, good for him!"

Brett smiled. "Last question: Why haven't you detransed yet?"

Tiffany shrugged. "I dunno.... I really want to get rid of my boobs and just be a guy already but I've been living as a girl so long, ughhhh.... I probably should though, since I don't even pass well, right?"

"Not one bit," Brett said.

Tiffany bit her lip, her ten-inch cock getting erect, pressing against her skirt.

Brooke rubbed her cock shamelessly. "I think I'm gonna go off E today. Screw it, I only continued being a girl because my family convinced me to socially transition so young. I'm gonna detrans!"

"That's the spirit," Brett said.

Jamie giggled. "Now I'm feeling left out..... I guess I never detransed because there was a lot of pressure not to, because I was a trans girl who started blockers in junior high and everyone found me super inspirational I never thought of speaking up..... I've wanted to detrans for a while now. Finally fuck some cute pregnant coeds like a guy my age should be!"

"And you already know my answer," Riley said, lifting her skirt to show her growing eight-inch cock.

"Wow, thank you guys, this went just as I hoped. How about it, Tiffany and Jamie, why not join Brooke and Riley and detrans already?"

Tiffany and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. "OK! Fuck it, let's do it!" Tiffany said.

"Hell yes, finally! I am going to fuck so many busty preggo sluts! Yes!"

"Well, my work here is done. Another very successful pride, pose for me please, and take out your cocks."

The 'girls' did as instructed, showing off their big, rock-hard cocks for Brett, pumping them as people walked by grossed out, glaring in disgust.

"On a count of three, say 'We can't wait to detrans' with a big smile. One, two, three!"

"We can't wait to detrans!" all four fakegirls happily said, bobbing up and down, their cocks and scrotums out for all to see, bouncing freely. Brooke at last came as they did this together, hands free, moaning softly with a big smile, eyes rolled back as she shot a dozen loads.

Brett smiled. "Wow, to think how much you'll cum after going on T." He whistled. "So with you four, that makes forty-six fakegirls I've convinced to detrans today alone. Poor delusional men, it doesn't take much, almost like all of you fantasize about stopping your little game of make believe. I better find a few more of you, it'd be a shame if I didn't break fifty."

#detrans kink #mtf detrans kink #mtftm kink #mtf detransition kink #mtftm jackoff fuel #mtftm nsft #mtftm detrans kink #mtftm detrans #fakegirl #mtf boy

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 23 days ago

Note

BROO I saw you want to write MCR fics can you please do anything involving the Danger Days characters x reader?? I'd be so happy if you did<3

Girl - Party Poison x Reader

Warnings: bit of angst lol

Word Count: 1853

A/N: Hello! I wrote this last year and thought I'd revive it so hopefully this is decent :) Enjoy! Hopefully you'll request something else :)

“What time did Dr. D’s broadcast start again?” Fun Ghoul shouted from outside the diner. He had been out there for nearly an hour, working on the Trans-AM—our car.

“7:30,” I called back. “Party’s out with Jet getting the bonfire set up. The Girl’s taking a nap, but she’s bringing the radio.” Kobra and I had been sitting inside the diner at one of our favorite tables, sketching in the notebook we bought last week from Tommy Chow Mein.

“You know, the Girl thinks you don’t like her,” Kobra mentioned as he sketched a draculoid. “She told me last night during our late-night chat. I think you should tell her the truth.” He knew I wouldn’t, though.

“Did she really say that?” I looked up from my drawing, feeling upset and disappointed. Kobra nodded. “You know I like her. It’s just… weird. I don’t know how to act around her, K. What did you tell her?”

“I told her you do like her, but you show it differently than the rest of us,” Kobra replied with a knowing smile.

“Good. I do like her. Probably more than all you killjoys,” I muttered, looking back down at my drawing.

“Ugh, this damn car won’t hold paint for longer than three days in this radiation!” Ghoul yelled, kicking the ground in frustration.

“Just wait for Jet to get back, Ghoul,” Kobra shouted back. “They’re gonna be here any minute.” Jet always knew what to do with the Trans-AM. It was his car, after all.

“Who’s gonna be back any minute?” a voice rang from the garage. Party Poison, with his fiery red hair, ran into the diner, grinning. Jet Star followed close behind, walking into the back room where the Girl slept.

“Party!” I smiled, jumping up and running into his arms. He hugged me tightly, pressing his lips to my forehead.

“Hey, baby. Did Kobra take good care of you?” Party asked, glancing over at his brother.

“He sure did. We just did some drawing, nothing too wild,” Kobra laughed.

“Guys, the sun’s about to set. Can we get going?” Ghoul called from outside again.

“Yeah, we’re coming. I’ll grab the Girl,” Kobra said, heading into the back room.

“See any dracs?” I asked Party as we walked toward the car.

“Not really. A few in the distance, but we’ll be fine tonight. We always take shifts,” he said, full of energy, as usual. That was why he led us—he kept us together and safe with that boundless drive.

“There she is!” Ghoul grinned as Kobra, Jet, and the Girl got into the car. “How you doing?” Kobra and the Girl climbed into the back with Party and me, while Ghoul and Jet took the front. The car was built for four, but if I sat on Party’s lap, Kobra could squeeze the Girl in next to him, allowing us all to fit.

“I’m sleepy, but I’m ready to party tonight!” she beamed up at Kobra.

Those two had always been close. The Girl’s mom was my sister. Not that she knew that. Her mom left as soon as the Girl was born, post-Analog Wars, never telling us who the father was. Both of us had been captured by BLI and stuck in Battery City. We escaped and reached the desert just a week after she found out she was pregnant. No one had ever asked about the father. None of us wanted to know the horrors Better Living put her through. After we arrived, Kobra looked after the Girl while Party and I grew close. The others liked her, loved spending time with her, but I struggled. She was too much like her mom. I couldn’t stand watching my niece act and look just like her mother—it killed me. That’s why Party was always by my side. He knew how I felt.

“That’s great ‘cause we’re definitely ready too,” Jet smiled as we arrived at our spot. The sun finally set, leaving the desert peaceful and dark. The bonfire crackled as we got out of the car, Kobra holding the Girl’s hand. She smiled, looking happy, clutching the small boombox she’d decorated the night before.

“Wait!” Party whispered, quickly pulling out his blaster. I followed his gaze over the sand dune. Korse.

“Fuck,” I muttered, pulling out my neon purple blaster.

“This is gonna suck the life out of me. There are dracs everywhere,” Jet said, scanning the area. Blaster rays lit up the air, striking the sand and the Trans-AM. Ghoul and Jet opened fire, taking out as many dracs as they could.

“Keep the Girl safe, Kobra!” I shouted as I ran. Korse went after me first—he knew exactly who I was. Jet got knocked out by a drac with a bottle, but Fun Ghoul kept firing, then ran to check on him. Party charged toward Korse, aiming his blaster, but had to retreat when he got shot at. Two dracs grabbed my arms, holding me back as Korse stood there, smug.

“Your little girl is coming with us, Y/N,” Korse sneered, using my real name—one I hadn’t heard since I left the city. “I don’t want to hurt you, but we don’t have much of a choice.”

“You’re not taking her!” I struggled against the dracs. “We won’t let you!”

“We?” Korse smirked. “You and your little band of Killjoys? Look around—they’re all down. You’re lucky we haven’t killed anyone yet.” The dracs dragged the Girl over, and she kicked and screamed.

A yellow ray cut through the air, dropping the dracs holding me. Party. He was alive.

“Party Poison! Get the Girl to the car!” Korse shouted as the surviving draculoids swarmed her. Party dodged Korse’s shots, inching closer. I managed to break free, fumbling to pull out my blaster. But Korse was faster, firing at me and missing deliberately. I dashed toward the others, watching as Party and Korse exchanged fire, each dodging the other’s shots. Finally, Korse knocked Party’s mask into the sand, then made his escape, driving off in the Trans-AM.

“Party? Are you okay?” I asked, crawling over to him. He lay motionless, not making a sound. “Party!” I screamed. For a second, I thought he was dead. I felt like I might throw up.

“Vinyl, I’m okay,” he groaned, reaching out to hold my hand.

“You saved me back there… You didn’t have to. You could’ve been killed—”

“I’ll always choose you. You should know that by now,” he chuckled weakly, coughing as he sat up.

“Jet, Ghoul, you guys okay?” I called, helping Party to his feet.

“I’m alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ghoul groaned, rubbing his back. His vest had a fresh smoking hole where he’d been hit.

“Me too,” Jet called, grabbing his blaster. I looked over at the Trans-AM, where Kobra lay unconscious. Party rushed over to his brother, helping him sit up as Jet fetched some water. Once we were sure Kobra was okay, the weight of what had just happened hit me. I felt sick.

One minute I was standing in the desert, and the next, everything went black. The last thing I saw was Party running toward me before I collapsed into someone’s arms.

Bright lights. The diner. Party lying next to me. Kobra sitting above us. The Girl. Gone. I sat up as fast as I could, obviously scaring the hell out of Party, who fell off the mattress.

“The Girl! Kobra, where is she?” I shouted, looking around, tears burning in my eyes. “Where is she!?” I screamed. A pair of arms wrapped around me, holding me back. Jet and Fun ran into the room, worried looks on their faces.

“Shit, is she okay?” Fun asked, sitting next to Kobra, who shook his head.

“Where is she? I’m going to kill you, Kobra,” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. He just sat there, expressionless.

“Hush, calm down, Vinyl. Breathe,” I heard Party say softly. I looked up and found him, kissing my temple.

“I won’t be calm, Party! She’s gone. My—my niece. She thinks I hate her. She’s my only family, and she doesn’t even know it. She’s like my daughter,” I wept.

“Don’t you think she’s like my daughter too, Vinyl? I spend all my time with the Girl, trying to convince her that you don’t hate her,” Kobra muttered. He had no right to say that to me. My sister might’ve loved him, and I might love his brother, but he was supposed to protect her. He was in charge of her.

“I’m going to get her,” I tried to wriggle out of Party’s arms, but he held me tighter. “Let me go, P. I’m calm,” I said, looking at him.

“You’re not going to get her. We’re going to make a plan. Together. In a few days, we’ll find her and bring her back. In the meantime, we’ll take shifts to look after you. I’m not letting you stay up alone, and I know you’re not going to sleep—not after this,” Party said as he gently let me go, helping me sit down on our shared mattress.

“We’ll find her, Vinyl. I promise,” Kobra said, sitting down next to me. “It’s going to be okay. And if we don’t find her, then we’ll end up dusted trying.” He wiped the tears from my face before getting up and heading into the diner with Jet and Fun to start planning.

Party lay down next to me, facing me. I stayed quiet, lost in my thoughts. She thinks I hate her. She doesn’t even know we’re family. She’s probably so scared. They’re probably experimenting on her right now.

“Vinyl, breathe. She’s going to be okay. We raised her right. She knows how to look after herself,” he said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“She thinks I hate her, Party. I can’t live knowing that she thinks I hate her,” I murmured, pressing my face into his chest. He pulled me closer.

“She knows you love her, V. I know she does. We were just talking a few days ago about you. She was asking about us, about you. Asked what you were like before she arrived. Asked if you and I were in love with each other. She notices everything between us, everything about you. Kobra and I sat her down, and we had a big conversation about you. Told her that you did like her but that she reminded you of someone you lost. The Girl understood, V. She understood. And I know she still does. She knows we’re going to come for her,” he said, cupping my face and making me look into his eyes.

“God, how is it that you always know exactly what to say to me, Party Poison? It’s like you’re made for me,” I smiled.

“Because we are made for each other,” he said, pressing his lips to my forehead and wrapping his arms around me affectionately. “We’re going to find her, V, I promise. And when we do, we’re going to tell her the truth about who she is.”

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rinwritesfics · 8 months ago

Text

Four Hours

Plot: You meet Hound while awaiting jury duty and hit it off.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1076

Author’s Note: Inspired by a four-hour wait for jury duty last year. @diviluscorner, I did it! Finally.

You sighed, shifting again in the uncomfortable chair in the hallway that was both dim and sharply lit by artificial lights. First, your entire week is upended by the call, and then they ask you to sit for most of the day to see if you’re even needed. Four hours to wait? The thought of it was exhausting, let alone the process.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, a massif with a brown harness and leash stopped to sniff, then sit at your feet. The creature’s tongue lolled out as it looked up at you as its handler caught up.

The Corrie Guard handling this reptilian creature turned to you and you froze. This one was different from the others with the fabric hanging from his helmet with sharp grey teeth painted on it. Were you about to get in trouble? Oh, stars, what did the massif think he smelled on you?

“Are you alright?” the Corrie Guard asked, his voice distorted partially by his modulator.

You chuckled nervously. “I’m fine. I just don’t relish the idea of waiting four hours to see if I’m needed or not for the jury.”

He tilted his head. “Four? That’s pretty unusual, even for this court.”

“Ugh, when one of you guys notices, that means it’s extra special,” you laughed in an attempt to seem calm. “If it wasn’t, I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me that.”

He laughed, too. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

You both fell into silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Got something you’d rather be doing?”

“Rather than waiting? Yeah. I’m not good at sitting on my hands and waiting. I like to be busy, and these chairs are very uncomfortable.”

“And what do you usually do?”

“I’m a mechanic, down at Grand Old Republic Motors.” You shrugged.

He laughed again. “You must see a lot of our faces down there, then.”

You grinned. “Yeah, I do actually.”

“I take it that’s why you’re not afraid of talking to me?”

You laughed. “Well, I’ll admit, I did think for a second you were going to confront me about something. Even my sighing.”

“Of course not. Just because it’s a right to be judged by peers, doesn’t mean the system jurors are chosen through doesn’t have its snags.”

“Sure does.”

“I’m Sergeant Hound, by the way.”

You smiled. “Y/N. I think Commander Fox has mentioned you a couple times. Something about a grizzly getting his teeth around a fuel injector?”

Sergeant Hound sighed. “I was scrubbing the floor for weeks after Grizzer got himself into that mess.”

“You, I take it?” you asked the massif in front of you in amusement. He was sitting at your feet and wagging his thick tail. His tongue lolled out again and he looked ready to play.

“He’s the group’s massif, and there are a couple of them but he only listens to me, so he kind of is mine.”

You grinned. “He seems like the goodest boy.”

The sergeant nodded. “He likes to think that, but he also has a chaotic streak in him.”

The two of you talked off and on, him coming back every so often to check on you during his patrol, but eventually you were called back in. By the time you found out you had been excused and were leaving, you saw no sign of Hound, which made you a little sad. You’d run into a few Corrie Guards, as well as other battalions at your employment, but something about Hound was special. You left the building, a little forlorn at missing saying goodbye.

A couple days later, you were almost hanging upside down underneath a customer’s small personal craft, working on replacing a new manifold.

“Y/N, you’ve got another visitor!” called your boss. Usually, the visitors were part of the clone battalion. Your boss was a little biased, but hid it pretty well – other than pushing them onto you on top of your other duties.

You groaned, wanting to shout about being busy.

“Am I always meeting you when you’re in distress?” asked a voice. It was definitely a clone voice, but not what you’d expect any of them to say.

You struggled out from under the craft with the manifold in-hand and your eyes met his. This one you didn’t recognize. His hair was a little longer than the others, so his curls were better formed, and he had a gray tattoo spanning both sides of his lower jaw like a row of sharp teeth. The only things that disrupted the tattoo were four long thin scars across his right cheek and a goatee.

“Uh, hi.” You stared at his tattoo, then realized – “Sergeant Hound. It’s nice to see you.”

He grinned. “Just Hound. How did you know?”

“Your jaw matches your helmet.”

He chuckled and said, “Guilty.”

“What can I do for you, ‘just Hound’?”

He laughed again. “I just wanted to come visit. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye the other day. My shift was over and then I came in the next day and figured out you didn’t get put on a case. I guess I missed you, is all.”

You blushed. “Missed me, huh? You didn’t know me for long.”

“Actually, my brothers talk a lot about you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was one of the only ones who had never gotten the chance to meet you.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re not as rough on your speeder as they are.”

“I’m also one of the youngest, so give me time,” he chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck again. “Look, I don’t know if this is too sudden, but could I take you to dinner?”

You smile. “You came here to ask me on a date?”

“It’s fine if you say no -”

“Hound. I’d really like that.”

“Oh, thank the Maker. I know I told you Grizzer’s pretty specific as to who he likes, but even he was a little confused when we left and didn’t see you.”

“Oh, I see, you’re setting me up with your massif. Guess Grizzer will get the goodnight kiss.” You winked and his eyes widened.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant -”

You tossed your head back and laughed. “I’ll be done in four hours. Think you can wait that long?”

He grinned. “I think I can wait four hours with you.”

Taglist (open!): @trixie2023

Hound Concept Art:

#tcw hound #tcw sergeant hound #tcw hound x reader #rinwritesfics fic

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maccreadysbaby · 11 months ago

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

*deep inhale* ah, yes, the smell of approaching chaos

part thirteen

❝ AQUAINTANCES ❞

SATURDAY — AUGUST 8 — 4:30AM

ASTEN SLEPT ON THE LEFT SIDE OF BENTLEY’S KING BED THAT NIGHT.

He envied the way Asten could fall right back asleep after everything he’d been through. He was all curled up under Bentley’s gray comforter, his black and blue hair sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the dark sheets.

Asten had been eerily quiet since the car ride. Bentley didn’t blame him, not at all. Bruce didn’t try to make him talk: he only asked him a few things, like if he needed anything to eat, or his preferred sleeping arrangement. Everything offered was quickly declined and he made it clear he just wanted to go to bed.

Neither he nor Bentley changed their clothes, they just crawled up into his bed and laid there, with one lamp on, in silence.

And that’s exactly what Bentley was still doing. Asten had fallen asleep long ago — the sun was probably going to come up in an hour or two. Maybe Bentley would’ve been able to rest if his sleep schedule wasn’t so screwed up.

He’d been sitting up against the headboard, mindlessly playing games on his phone, listening to Asten’s even breathing. There wasn’t much left for him to do but sit there and swim in his own thoughts, which had been a strange mix of what would happen if the Secret Keeper found them, wondering if he upset Dick by leaving the hospital bed, what would’ve happened if Tim hadn’t been able to get to Asten fast enough, and a slew of other mildly unpleasant things regarding their current situation.

His first ever sleepover had been brought about by a horror-movie-level supervillain chasing a kid he’d known for five days around downtown Gotham. Given what his life had held so far, he should’ve expected something like that.

Bruce had poked his head in once, and Bentley just sort of waved at him. They exchanged a few texts afterwards, but it had been a while since then, and Bentley hoped he went back down with Dick. Dick deserved having his dad down there with him.

When the clock struck 4:33am, and the after-patrol bedroom doors had been closed for a while, Asten stirred, humming incoherently.

Bentley glanced over at him, watching him shift around until he pulled the comforter up and over his head.

He mumbled almost incoherently in Portuguese, running all his words together. “Não… não. Por favor, não leve minha mãe embora. Por favor, não a leve embora.”

“Asten?” Bentley questioned, shifting slightly to face him.

“Não. Por favor. Não a tire de mim. Eu não quero ficar sozinho…”

Bentley reached over and tapped at the wiggling blankets. “Asten.”

A few seconds later, Asten’s head popped out, hair a mess, and he blinked. “Huh?”

“You were talking,” Bentley replied quietly. Asten cringed, so Bentley added: “Not in English.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced over at his glowing clock. “Four-thirty-four.”

“Ugh,” Asten grumbled, tugging the comforter back over his head. “You haven’t been able to sleep?”

“No,” Bentley replied. “I slept for a while after school.”

Asten’s voice was muffled under the blanket. “Guess I was really lucky your sleep schedules botched, huh?”

Bentley glanced over at the Asten-shaped lump in the blankets.

“You would’ve been okay,” He tried.

“You and I both know I would’ve been dead,” Asten replied, pulling the blankets off of his head. (Which made his hair even messier.) “It might be scary to think about, Whittaker, but you answering that phone probably saved my life. For real.”

Bentley said nothing. Most of him wanted to disregard that, to say that surely Asten would’ve been fine, but there was a small part of him that knew he was probably right.

“And I realize I’m staying at your house within like, a week of meeting you, and that’s kinda weird.” He continued, bringing the blanket back over his head. “So, sorry.”

“It’s not that weird,” He stated simply, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “I mean, you’re my friend, aren’t you?”

Asten let out a huff of a laugh. “I’d like to think so. I knocked out a bully for you and you kept me from getting murdered, I’d say that surpasses the acquaintance category.”

Bentley shrugged. “I guess I’m just not the best at telling who likes me and who doesn’t.”

A moment of silence passed, and Bentley’s mind lingered on Damian.

“I guess you never really know. People can be fake right up until they’re not,”

Considering that Damian could’ve been fake-liking him the whole time didn’t make Bentley feel any better.

“So, ginger, I’m sleeping next to you and hardly know anything about you,” Asten stated, sitting up slightly against the headboard and pulling the blanket off his head again. “You’re not from Crime Alley or Bristol, you don’t sound like either of those. Where are you from?”

Bentley took in a breath, and let it out. “Drew.”

“That’s the city next to Bludhaven, isn’t it?” He questioned.

“I think so,” Bentley stated, trying to remember all the aerial maps he’d seen on the Batcomputer.

“I’m from São Paulo, a city in Brazil,” Asten explained, pulling his knees up sort of like Bentley usually did.

Bentley shifted against the headboard. “Why did you move here?”

Asten quieted.

“My, uh… parents died a couple years ago. In a car crash,” He said, speaking softer than he had been. “I don’t have any family in Brazil, grandparents or anything. My only relative was my dad’s brother, who lives here. So that’s who I went to.”

Bentley cringed, watching the way Asten’s eyes lingered on his own hands. He really did suck at talking to people, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” He muttered, bringing his knees up, too.

“Hey, no sweat, kid.” Asten reached over and bumped him on the shoulder, quickly ridding his face of any undue emotion. “I’m fine. How’d you end up in Bruce Wayne’s house, anyway?”

Bentley quickly weeded through all the things he couldn’t tell Asten, which was basically everything. What was he supposed to say?

“My dad… got arrested… last December,” Is what he settled on. “And my mom died when I was a baby. My dad knew Bruce.”

“Oh,” Was what Asten replied. And then he snorted. “We are some little pity-fest, aren’t we?”

The word pity didn’t make Bentley feel any better, either. But he forced a little smile on nonetheless.

“Why are you in my classes when you’re older than me?” Bentley questioned, desperately trying to change the subject.

“I was homeschooled in Brazil, so credits and stuff were different when I moved here,” Asten explained, shifting so his position was mirroring Bentley’s. “You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

Did anything his father did count as homeschooling? Bentley wasn’t dumb by any means, and he knew the basics of math and stuff.

“Uh, yeah,” He replied. Technically he was, right?

Had he been lying to Asten this whole time? He couldn’t exactly tell him his dad was using him to destroy Batman, and he didn’t really think it was a societal norm to tell the first person you meet that you were abused and neglected for your whole life.

This whole double-life thing was hard. Of course, this wasn’t as hard as when he was trying to do his father’s work, but it was still hard.

“You seem like a homeschool kid,” Asten said with a smirk.

Bentley quirked his brow. “How?”

“Y’know, you just… have that way about you that lets me know you haven’t interacted with many people. It’s not a bad thing,” He insisted. “You’re similar to Nico, and he was homeschooled for a while, too.”

Bentley nodded slightly. (At least Asten thought he was homeschooled and not purposefully kept from outside contact by his abuser.)

“We can’t tell him about any of this Secret Keeper stuff, by the way. Nico. He’ll die on the spot,” Asten said, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Okay,” Is all Bentley replied. With the reactions he’d seen from Nico so far (nearly crying over riding the bus, having an asthma attack over riding the bus, crying in the janitors closet when he wasn’t even the one afraid…) he really wouldn’t doubt it.

A few moments of silence passed. “Hey, Bentley?”

He looked up at Asten, brown eyes meeting green. “Yeah?”

“Have you really not seen her since your dream?”

Bentley shook his head, pulling the blanket further onto his lap. “No, I haven’t. Not even when we went to pick you up.”

“I don’t think she’s alone,”

Bentley pinched his brows together, glancing over at Asten, who was staring off, deep in thought.

“What do you mean?”

Asten looked up at him, then down. “She was branded. Behind her left ear. I saw it in my dream — A symbol that looked like a weird A.”

Bentley sat up straighter. “Whats branded?”

“It’s, like… where you form metal in a certain symbol, then heat it up and burn the symbol onto someone’s skin. Like a mark that they belong to someone else,” He explained. “Luckily it’s not a common thing.”

Bentley squirmed a little in his spot, thinking about being branded by red-hot metal. “You… think she has a boss?”

Asten shrugged. “It’s just a thought. People don’t usually just brand themselves. Unless they’re trying to trick you and she knows I saw it, in that case, I don’t know.”

Another tense silence passed, but the way the gears were turning in each of their heads was nearly audible.

“You said in the car, you wanted your face to be the last thing she ever saw,” Bentley started, glancing up at him. “Would you actually go after her?”

Asten’s eyes lingered on his for a few moments, and something like a storm glimmered in the back of his green eyes. Similar to at school, but not so prominent. “If she’s going to make our lives miserable, then the least I can do is make her’s a hellscape in return. Why?”

Bentley glanced at his bedroom door, thinking of the family beyond.

“Because I…” Want to be good enough for them.

“… Want to help you.”

Asten searched his face for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ll have to beat the police,” He suggested.

Bentley shrugged. “And Batman.”

Asten smirked lightly. “You think we can do it?”

I’ve been trained into a deceptive weapon and living with the greatest detectives in the world, he wanted to reply.

“I think we need a plan,” Was what he said instead.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

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mischief-lies-and-stories · 1 year ago

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Loki Episode 5 Coherent Thoughts

Spoilers for Episode 5. Once again, I have not rewatched before posting.

Most of this is lokius related because I'm still a damn fool.

I want the twist at the end to be that Loki gives Mobius (and the others) back his memories to give him the choice to go back to his life, and is just really sad about it, because he expects Mobius to want to go back to his kids who don't have a mother. But he gives him his memories of his past and they're... not what he saw when he found him. Like at all. I'm not gonna speculate on specifics (*cough* Theo Bell *cough*) but he doesn't have the responsibilities of being a single parent. And Loki's like 'No, but you had two boys,' and he tells Mobius about them and they both kind of realize at the same moment that they looked like Mobius but acted like Loki. None of that was real. Mobius made all that shit up and it somehow manifested. Because he's got it B-A-D for Loki, like a middle schooler with their first crush imagining an entire life with them.

Alternatively, I saw only one other post about this but maybe it's gotten some traction by now, but maybe Mobius's wife got Blipped four years prior. So the good thing is the boys are gonna have a parent in a year even if Mobius decides to stay with Loki.

Hi hello I'm still disturbed that these very young children have been possibly left home alone for eight hours (he says his shift is 9-5), and Mobius couldn't even answer the phone when they called. We don't see a babysitter. Mobius, this is neglect. For the children's sake, I fucking hope either A. they aren't real, or B. a more responsible parent is about to come back and take care of them in 2023. (Ugh, but Love having cousins who are about her age and just as chaotic as she is would be amazing.)

I've come up with the worst Dad joke and a way for Mobius to get out of his bribery with his kid he for sure cannot deliver on. He brings OB around for dinner. OB's timeline name (if I read the subtitles correctly) is A.D. Doug. ADDOUG=A DOG. And his TVA name is Ouroboros, the SNAKE eating its own tail. (Alternatively, you now know Loki, you can borrow his sons Fenrir and Jormungandr. Blended family.)

I know it hasn't been explicitly stated, but I thought the whole thing with Alioth in season one was meant to imply that Loki now knows how to restore memories. So why the fuck doesn't he try it in this episode? Even if he's pretty sure they're all where they were prior to the formation of the TVA, it's still after for him, so why wouldn't he at least try it? When he kept moving toward Mobius in the garage scene I thought he was gonna grab his head but he doesn't. (Maybe he was interrupted by OB, but he has ample opportunity later.)

It just needs to be said because I love history. I am obsessed with Casey being Frank Morris. Both he and Loki being central to these ongoing (technically) mysteries is amazing. Like unlike Cooper it is generally accepted that Frank and his co-escapees drowned during the attempt, but no bodies identified as the men were ever found (if my shallow dive into the wiki article immediately following the episode is to be believed). OB, your boyfriend's a convict lolololol!

AD Doug is still gender-neutral though. It's 1994 but my boi can still be enby. (I'm aware enby people existed well before this but, and the wiki is not being helpful, I think the specific term was coined in the mid to late 90s or possibly later, so OB may not have been aware of it.)

I don't think Marvel is moving toward Casey/OB (at least not before the end of this season, if we get another season it MIGHT be a different story), but fuck it would be so funny if they met so much later than lokius but were able to get their shit together faster than lokius. I think it'd check out for for everyone involved. Hell, maybe they're already together and it just hasn't come up yet to the group. That'd be funnier (bonus points if B-15 already knows though).

Loki for some fucking reason: Hold on, I gotta look cool and suave for this dork of a single dad who's already informed me at least three times of his own volition that he's single.

#loki #loki tv show #loki theories #loki season 2 #sylvie laufeydottir #mobius m mobius #loki season 2 spoilers #lokius #loki 2x05

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hollywoodxwhore · 1 year ago

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Ours | Chapter Four

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Content/Warnings: Smut (18+), omorashi/piss kink, swearing, oral sex (f receiving)

Here you go, all you freaks in mine and @jinx-on-mars-19xx's inboxes! I promised I would include omorashi/piss kink at some point. It's my first time writing it, so hopefully I did it justice. Let me know what y'all think! Also, angst is coming soon, I promise.

Presley

If there’s one thing in the world that I hate the most, it’s LA traffic.

I hate going anywhere in LA. We could be going somewhere three miles away and it would still take us half an hour to get there. The highway is always bumper to bumper, no matter what time of day we drive. And today is no different, despite the fact that it’s a Tuesday morning.

Colson took us into the city for breakfast, a nice change of pace from our usual routine of staying in bed until we’re starving, dragging ourselves to the kitchen for food, and then going back to bed to fuck until lunch time.

I’m certainly not complaining about this life. Any time I get with Colson is amazing, and I know we won’t always have this much time on our hands, so I’m savoring it. But going out to breakfast was a lot of fun. The food was delicious and the weather was nice. Now, we’re headed back home for a few hours before Col has to go to the studio. I might even tag along today.

But the goddamn traffic.

I hate it always, but today, it’s ten times worse. A mimosa and two big glasses of water had been great companions to my breakfast, but I’m really starting to regret it now. We’ve barely moved and out of nowhere, I have to pee like nobody’s business. I cross my legs and shift a little in the seat, uncomfortable and anxious. “Ugh, I hate this shit,” I mutter.

Colson rests a hand on my thigh. “I know,” he sighs. “Definitely a drawback to living in the city.” I try to busy myself with watching him, but my belly is so full that it’s starting to hurt.

“How much longer?” I ask.

“We’re only a couple exits from home, but with traffic, I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “Twenty minutes?” I groan and let my head fall back against the headrest, legs jiggling. “Hey. You okay?” Colson asks, eyeing me.

My cheeks flush. I’m not sure why this is embarrassing for me, but admitting what my body needs feels…humiliating for some reason. “I’m fine,” I say tightly, looking out the window.

Colson is quiet for a second and I think he’s going to drop it, but then he’s pulling my thigh so my legs spread and I gasp softly, slamming my knees back together.

“Ha. I knew it,” Colson says, and when I look over at him, he’s smirking.

“Knew what?” I ask.

“You have to pee,” he says, and he sounds almost smug.

“So?” I ask sulkily, crossing my arms and legs at the same time.

“Why didn’t you go before we left?”

“I didn’t have to go then,” I mutter. Fuck. I squirm a little more, unable to stay still.

“How bad is it?” Colson asks. My cheeks are burning with embarrassment. A bead of sweat rolls down my spine and I shiver, arching my back a little. Colson chuckles. “Bad, huh?”

“Leave me alone,” I whine.

“Don’t piss yourself in my car,” he says, and I shoot him a look, but my breath hitches when I see his face. His eyes. They’re dark, a sure sign of pure arousal. I swallow hard and stare back at him. “What?” he asks huskily.

“You’re into this,” I realize suddenly. “Thought you only liked giving golden showers.”

Colson clears his throat and shrugs. “That’s part of it,” he says. “But this? This works for me, too.” He eyes me up and down during a moment of standstill traffic and I squirm beneath his gaze, still embarrassed, but slightly less now, knowing he’s into it.

“So, what do you want to happen?” I ask.

Colson shrugs. “I want you to make it home,” he says, reaching down to adjust his cock in his jeans. “But then I want you to hold it. Maybe even let me fuck you while you do.”

My eyes go huge. “Wh-what? There’s no way I can make it through that–”

“Even better.”

I stare at my boyfriend in awe. I knew he was into some kinky shit, but I wasn’t expecting this. This is so…vulnerable. “I’ll piss myself for sure if that happens,” I tell him shakily, and his eyelashes flutter as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. “Is…is that what you want?” I ask slowly.

Colson swallows hard, then nods. He glances at me quickly and then looks away. “If you’re not into it, we don’t have to,” he mumbles.

I bring a shaky hand to his thigh. “I’ll try anything you want,” I tell him quietly.

“Really?” he asks, looking over at me with a stunned expression. “Shit, baby. We can stop if and whenever you want to.”

“I trust you,” I say. After our first time having rough sex, we discussed a safe word system. Essentially, green means go, yellow means proceed with caution, and red means stop. I know he’ll listen to me if I want to stop.

The rest of the drive is pure torture. Now that I know Colson is into it, I stop trying so hard to hide my desperation. I whine and squirm when I need to, and I slip my hands between my thighs. Colson is eating up every second of it, trying his best to focus on traffic but doing a pretty shitty job. He veers off our exit as soon as we reach it, and although he’s driving fast because he’s eager, I’m thankful for it. The sooner we get home, the sooner I get to empty my overfull bladder.

Colson parks in the garage and saunters over to get my door. I waddle inside with him, looking longingly at the bathroom downstairs, but he just takes my hand and tugs me toward our bedroom. I light up a little when we walk into the adjoining bathroom, wondering if he’s changed his mind, but then, he pulls back the shower curtain.

Colson turns to face me, his eyes dark and his bottom lip between his teeth. “Take off your clothes,” he says. I gulp and do as I’m told, careful to move slowly when I remove my jeans. Colson’s eyes are all over me, his eyes full of a hunger I’ve never seen before. He walks over to me and I suck in a sharp breath as his large palm covers my lower belly. I brace myself but he doesn’t apply pressure. Instead, he slips his hand down between my legs.

I whimper, legs trembling as he rubs my clit slowly. I’m absolutely dying to pee, probably never been so desperate in my entire life, but my body will never not react to Colson. I let my head fall back, keeping my muscles tense so I don’t humiliate myself before we even start.

Suddenly, Colson’s hand is gone and I open my eyes, but he’s no longer in front of me. He’s getting onto his knees. My eyes widen and I shake my head but then he’s lifting my leg over his shoulder, gripping my ass, and pulling my pussy to his mouth.

“Fuck!” I practically squeal, digging my hands into his hair and tugging. My heart is pounding so hard that I’m almost dizzy, and I can’t deny the pleasure-pain of it all. I’m extra sensitive like this, and my legs start to shake way quicker than usual. “Colson–”

He pulls back and smirks up at me with dark eyes. “Had to get you ready for me, baby,” he explains nonchalantly, then gets to his feet again. He strips down and steps into the shower, reaching for my hand to help me in. I wince with every movement I make. My palms are sweaty with nerves.

“Are you sure you’re into this?” I ask. “Because I don’t…I don’t know if I can…”

“Hold it?” Colson finishes for me. My cheeks redden and I nod. Colson wets his lips. “I promise I’m into it,” he assures me, touching my cheek. He leans down to kiss me, and then without warning, hoists me into his arms. I shriek as he jostles my body, my legs spreading to wrap around him, and I clench all my muscles as I leak against my own will. I whine and arch my back.

“Fuck,” Colson mutters lowly. I open my eyes and look at him helplessly. With his eyes locked on mine, Colson surges forward, burying himself inside me. My mouth opens in a silent scream and I dig my nails into his back so hard that I’m sure I have to be breaking the skin. It hurts so good, being so full in several different ways. Colson starts to work his hips into me, and with every thrust, I swear his cock is knocking into my bladder, even though I’m not sure that’s how things work anatomically.

“Doing so good for me, Pres,” he groans, squeezing my ass firmly as he picks up his pace.

“Colson, I can’t,” I whine, arching my back off the wall. My legs are practically convulsing around him as I try desperately to hold everything in, but it’s becoming fruitless. There’s no way I can hold on long enough for him to come, and if I come? It’s over for me.

“Yes you can, baby,” Colson says tightly. His chest shines with a thin layer of sweat and he’s so sexy all worked up like this. It makes me want to do well for him. He halts his thrusts for a second and looks into my eyes. “Color?”

I chew my lip, squirming. Now that he’s not moving, it’s even harder to hold it. I suck in a sharp breath when another leak slips out around his cock. My brain is not functioning properly with all this stimuli. But part of me can’t help but be curious about all this. I want to see how Colson reacts. So I swallow hard and say, “Green.”

“Good,” Colson moans, picking up his pace again. “Talk to me, baby. You close to losing it?”

“Y-yes,” I whimper, biting my lip hard.

Colson’s cock jerks inside of me. I can’t believe how into this he is. It’s turning me on, too. “Pres?”

“Y-yeah?”

“You’re not allowed to go,” he pants, “until you lose it. Got it?”

“Got it,” I squeak, knowing we aren’t very far from that point.

Colson looks down between us and groans softly. “Shiiiit, look at your stomach.” I look down and notice what he’s seeing: my stomach is swollen like there’s a balloon beneath my skin. I can’t even begin to imagine how much pee is inside of me, begging to come out.

All the breath rushes from my lungs when Colson brings a hand between us, resting it on my stomach. His thumb finds my clit, and the pleasurable pain hikes up another notch as he pushes on my bladder and rubs his thumb back and forth over my clit.

“Holy shit,” I whine. “Holy shit, Cols–” I’m so close to letting go. My stomach is starting to cramp and I can’t tell if I’m about to come or piss or both. He presses down again, his thumb applying more pressure, and I scream as my orgasm rips through me, completely taking me by surprise. My vision goes a little fuzzy as I clench around him.

As soon as I start to come down, my other need rushes to the front of my mind and my eyes widen. “Colson–” is the only warning I can give before my body just lets go.

My head falls back against the wall of the shower as I release around him, all my muscles relaxing now that I’m no longer fighting it. My chest heaves with the relief of it all, my bladder slowly deflating. Once I’m no longer completely blinded by desperation, I open my eyes and look at Colson.

I’ve never seen my boyfriend like this before.

His expression is one of such raw, animal arousal that it shocks me into silence. As my pee streams out of me, around his dick and down his legs, Colson growls. He fucks me as I let go, so hard that our skin slaps together wetly, and I whimper, so entranced by him.

“Fuck, baby, fuuuuuck,” he groans, hips jerking against mine as he comes. He gasps harshly and his knees buckle and I gasp as we land on the shower floor, me still in his lap, and somehow still peeing. Colson breathes hard, clinging to me, and finally, he lets his eyes open.

I whimper softly, biting my lip as it continues to flow out of me. I had no idea my body could even hold that much liquid. “Jesus,” Colson croaks. “You’re still going?”

“I told you how bad it was!” I hiss, cheeks warm with embarrassment. But I’m too relieved to care all that much. I slump against him as it finally tapers off, and then we’re both panting.

“Baby,” Colson rasps. “Presley.”

I wait in rigid silence, a little embarrassed and totally vulnerable.

“That was…oh my god, baby, that was so hot,” he breathes, rubbing my back. “Thank you for trying that for me.”

“Told you I’d try anything,” I say weakly, my head on his shoulder. I’m completely spent after that. Colson reaches up and turns on the shower. We sit on the floor for a while until finally, Colson helps me off him. My legs are still shaking too hard to stand and he washes us both right here on the floor. Once we’re finished, he helps me towel off and then carries me to the bedroom. I need a nap after that.

Colson slides into bed beside me and wraps an arm around me. He’s quiet but fidgety. “You okay?” I ask. “What, don’t tell me you have to pee now?” I tease.

Colson chuckles softly, relaxing a little. “I don’t,” he assures me. “I just…you know, when the moment’s gone, I get a little…weird? Embarrassed? About my kinks. Was that too far?”

“I would’ve said red if it was,” I remind him, touching his cheek. He looks down at me. “I love you,” I say, pressing a kiss to his nose. “I don’t judge anything you’re into. Besides, I kind of liked it,” I admit.

Colson’s brows lift. “Really?” he asks.

I nod. “Really. It was, like, pleasurable pain. You know?”

“Yes, yes I do,” Colson chuckles. I raise a brow and he looks sheepish. “I’ve, um, held it before, too. For pleasure purposes.”

“Really?” I ask. “Do you like doing it?”

Colson blushes, then nods.

I smirk. “Okay, so next time it’s your turn,” I say.

Colson bites his lip. “Deal,” he mutters, kissing me again.

Taglist:@triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker@missamericanaxx@anonymousme86@whiteleoqueen@feroniakutenpuu

#mgk #machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfic #colson baker fanfic #mgk smut #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker smut

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airplanned · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday

My motivation has been in the gutter for a long while now. So I have made the decision that for the rest of the year, I'm only going to work on what I want to work on, when I feel motivated to do so.

With that in mind, here's the start of a One Piece one shot!

Luffy has taken jumping onto people.

Nami and Usopp can't take his weight (which honestly isn't that much, and some push ups wouldn't hurt either of them), and they tend to squawk on impact, their knees nearly buckling as they stumble to right themselves. Nami will shove him off until he's just hugging around her neck, and then she leaves him to rub his head against hers like a cat while she continues with whatever she was doing. Usopp will laugh when he recovers from his surprise and hook his arms under Luffy's legs and try to shift the weight with several hopping hefts until it's more comfortable. It never gets comfortable, and it never lasts long before Usopp sets him down.

Luffy will shout Zoro's name and leap from the rigging and land on Zoro's back, and (unlike Usopp) Zoro won't shriek and crumple to his knees. Instead, he'll carry his captain around like a backpack until Luffy finds something better to do. Again, Luffy's not heavy, and Zoro can still go about his business without any problems unless one of the arms wrapped around his head slips down to cover his eyes.

Zoro's strong. He isn't gonna complain and make people think his injuries are bothering him. Because they aren't. (Fuck off.)

He's not going to tell Luffy he can't do something that's not hurting anybody and not bothering him.

Also Zoro's kind of curious how long Luffy will stay there. How long he can carry him. He kinda makes a game of it, seeing if Luffy can beat his previous record. One day he carries Luffy around the whole afternoon, then when it's dinner time, the waiter snipes them like he's somebody's mom that they can't sit down to a meal like that.

"We can do what we want," Zoro says, kicking his chair around to sit in it backwards at the table.

"Yeah, we're pirates!" Luffy says, stretching out an arm to grab his plate from the table and hold it over Zoro's shoulder. "I bet we can do this all day! A whole twenty-four hours! Right, Zoro?"

Zoro raises that bet to "Thirty-six," and holds up a fist. Luffy knocks his own fist against it in agreement.

The waiter's face does that thing. That twitchy thing where it looks like behind his eyes, he's gotten so confused that something's short circuited and he's reset back to his base state of stupid bemusement. "He's...going to get crumbs in your hair?"

Luffy's wet and noisy chewing very close to Zoro's ear goes suspiciously silent. A hand brushes at the back of his head.

So, okay, yeah, that's a good point. But it's a point the waiter has made. So Zoro glares at him and snaps, "My hair's none of your business."

Before the waiter can reply, Nami lets out a disgusted, "Ugh."

That's the most he and Nami have spoken to each other today. Zoro's aware enough to know that things between him and Nami have been strained ever since she'd left and then came back and everyone else was acting like it's all water under the bridge. Zoro's not. A mistrust has settled in. Under his skin. Something that he can see turning into a grudge if he lets it fester long enough, but also he doesn't see himself doing anything to stop it from festering.

It's annoying. Because he...well, he doesn't miss her, because she's right there and also he's low level ticked at her. It's annoying. Because she left.

Across the table, Usopp leans forward and narrows his eyes down to slits. Slowly, he asks. "How will you take a piss?"

The rest of the table goes very still.

Except for Luffy who answers with his mouth full, "Don't worry about it."

Everyone remains very still.

Yeah. No.

Zoro stands up and shrugs his captain off his back.

"Awww!"

Turning his chair back around, he reclaims his seat.

"Thank you, Usopp, for that bit of rationality," the waiter says, passing around drinks (which are water of all fucking things) and sitting down himself, flipping his napkin across his lap with a flair.

Pointing a finger at Usopp, Luffy informs him, "You're a bad pirate." Then he swivels in his seat to turn the accusation onto Zoro. "You too." He pokes Zoro twice in the cheek.

"Yeah, yeah," Zoro says, piling food onto his plate.

#one piece #my fic

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hannahssimblr · 9 months ago

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Chapter Seventeen

The first thing I pick up is a packet of triple chocolate chip cookies. Not a brand I recognise, but some locally produced, gourmet alternative to the ones I’m used to. They’re also four euros, but I don’t see the price tag until they’re already in my basket and I’m halfway to the frozen goods aisle. I mutter about it under my breath and head back to look for something more reasonable.

I scan the shelves for something familiar, or at least the shop’s own brand of biscuits but there’s nothing remotely like that. I peer around me at the other shoppers and start wondering about their jobs, and what they could possibly be doing that would allow them to buy such frivolous things as four euro biscuits, or, even more flagrantly, the twelve euro per kilo authentic Italian tomatoes I spotted by the door when I came in. Surely they can’t be that much better than the forty cent ones in Tesco, I think. Who spends that kind of money on something so temporary that it will have rotted away in a week?

I’m frowning at the biscuits when a pair of tanned arms snake around my waist, and my cheek is punctuated with kisses. My hands fly to Jude’s wrists in surprise and I whirl around to find myself pressed up against his chest. “Oh, God, you gave me a fright.”

“Sorry.” He says. “I called your name but you seemed a bit fixated on the gourmet cookies.”

“Oh, yeah. These bloody biscuits.”

He slants his mouth over mine and kisses me so slow and deep that I almost forget that we’re in a supermarket, so I pull back before I forget my name too. “They’re so expensive,” I complain, as he kisses the corners of my mouth, my cheeks, my jaw. “What if I don’t want gourmet chocolate chip cookies? What if I just want normal ones?”

“Yeah, they’re so expensive.” He echoes, with eyes that slip all over my face as though I’ve just been saying sexy things, rather than just giving out about the contents of the shelves in the confectionery aisle. “I did say that you could just wait outside for me while I parked though, I didn’t think you’d be inside trying to buy things. This is a bit of a luxury supermarket.” He pauses and looks me over at arm’s length. “I also didn’t expect to find you covered in paint.”

“Ugh.” I say when I notice the swipe of cadmium yellow across the side of my thigh. “I didn’t even see this. Typical Mezzotint. And I liked these jeans too.”

“Acrylic?” He grimaces, and I nod. “It’s my fault. It’s from that music festival sign I’ve been working on. It’s just been lying out on workbenches, exactly at this height. God.” I swipe at the paint as though I can shift it, but it’s clearly been dried there for hours and is a permanent part of the fabric.

He lifts my arm to reveal another smear of blue acrylic from elbow to wrist. “At least this will wash off.”

“I’m a mess.” I announce. “I’m a mess and the prices in this shop are making me angry.”

“You don’t need to buy anything here, though.” He says. “I have everything sorted for dinner already.”

“Yeah but I was thinking of Jen. I don’t want to turn up empty handed.”

He pulls a packet of some sort of white chocolate and mint shortcake from the shelf and wrinkles his nose. “Well, no worries because Jen won’t eat any of this anyway. We can stop somewhere on the way and get her something better.” He tosses it back into the wrong place and takes my hand to lead me back out towards Smithfield square. “Anyway, let’s get going. If I’m parked for longer than fifteen minutes they’ll make me pay six euro at the barrier.”

“Extortionate.” I comment.

“Well, I think the boom is back, baby.”

I push through the hospital doors with my shoulder, as my hands are full of McFlurries. It was supposed to be one, for Jen, and then I explained to Jude, who was annoyed about me potentially ruining my appetite for dinner, that I can’t possibly exit the McDonalds drive-thru without a crunchie McFlurry. Then, because he suddenly felt left out, we ordered a third one for him.

He hurries forward to hold the door open for me when he sees me struggle with it, but it’s really so that he can get close enough to reach over me to yank one of the chunky plastic spoons and shove a glob of ice cream into his mouth. “So good.” He groans, as though it’s the first bite, as though he hasn’t been making me feed him spoonfuls behind the wheel the whole way over here. I laugh at the blissed out look on his face.

He’s good at being serious with the nurse when he asks if we can see Jen, but as soon as we’re in the hallway, alone again, he reverts to his rascal self. We almost double over laughing when the hand sanitizer station squirts out at least ten times the normal amount as it should, and gets all the way over the cuff of his jacket, and he looks really young when he laughs so hard. I realise that he used to look like this all of the time, but these last few months a smile from him has felt like a rare and precious thing. I sort of wish that I could record these kinds of moments with him and play them back whenever I forget what it’s like to be truly, deliriously happy.

We’re still giggling when we push through to Jen’s ward, and when she peers around the curtain to see what all the racket is, she smiles too. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in four months.

“Oh, Jen.” I say, and I hurry to her to give her a gentle hug on the side of her that isn’t wrapped up in gauze and bandages. “How are you?”

She looks okay, apart from all of the bandages, from elbow to wrist and from hip to ankle along her right side, right where the car door caved in on her. She has scratches on her cheek and across her nose too, scrapes from flying debris, maybe. I shudder at the thought of the violence of the accident, imagining myself there witnessing it.

“Oh God, I’m so bored.” She says with a big, dramatic eye roll, as though the whole fact of her being here, in this narrow little hospital bed is all a bit of an unnecessary fuss, some over-cautious and silly thing that she’s been forced into. There are pink flowers at her bedside, cards and books and magazines and a tray of half eaten food that nobody has been around to clean up yet.

“Jenny.” Jude says, and he ruffles her dark hair and tweaks her nose, because he’s also pretending that it’s not a big deal that she’s here, because she’s strong and capable, and she’d stroll out of here right now if it wasn’t for the watchful eyes of the nurses. “Evie got you a McFlurry.”

“I did.” I say, only realising once I hold it out for her that she may need both hands to eat it. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

“Here.” Jude says, and I hand it to him. He shoots her a cheeky grin. “Do you want me to feed it to you?”

“Yeah.” She says. “Like I’m some useless auld one. Go on.” I watch with a smile as he carefully feeds her a spoonful, thinking it’d be just like him to scoop out an enormous hunk of it and try to force it into her mouth as a joke, but he doesn’t do that at all. He’s almost impossibly tender about the whole thing. “Will you do this for me when I’m actually old?” She asks him between spoonfuls.

“Old people can usually feed themselves.” He reminds her to which she laughs. “Yeah but I’ve decided I’m going to be a really lazy old person and I’m not going to be bothered to use my hands.”

“Oh well then, yeah. That’s a good reason. Being too lazy to lift a spoon is fair enough. I’ll come to your house every day on my zimmer frame and I’ll feed you.”

“It’s the least you could do.”

I suddenly feel a bit out of place, so I perch myself into the little seat in the corner so as to not interrupt their friendly banter with my presence.

“Evie.” Jen says as soon as she realises that I’ve shrunk away. “C’mere. How are you? What’s going on with you?”

“Oh, well nothing really.” I say. “Same old stuff as always.”

“Not true.” says Jude. “She’s killing it at the internship. Every card she designs sells out in days, and her window art and murals are becoming well known enough that some music festival organisers have asked her to paint their event map for them.”

“Oh wow, Evie, good for you!”

“Thanks.” Jude looks very proud and I feel very shy, and when, without thinking about it I tuck my hair behind my ears, Jen’s eyes immediately find the fading reddish, purplish smudge on my neck. Her eyes widen with delight and she looks at Jude as I hide it again, all too late. “Is that all that’s been happening?” She says to him, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He apologised profusely for it the morning that we left the beach house, insisting that he really doesn’t usually give hickeys, it was an accident, and now he looks just as embarrassed as he did when he rolled over and saw it for the first time. Jen bites her lip like she’s holding in the biggest giggle. “Wow, is it just me or has it suddenly gotten boiling hot in here.” She fans herself theatrically. “Maybe someone should crack that window.”

Jude shakes his head at her, and he doesn’t speak, but the faces they pull at each other communicate everything. Was that you? She says with her eyes.

Maybe.

When was this?

I’m not telling you.

Oh, come on.

Mind your own business. “What has the doctor said?” He says aloud, and puts her spoon in his mouth.

“Unhygienic.” Jen comments, snatching it from him. “I could have caught some rotten disease in here. I heard that norovirus is going around this floor.”

“Well, you have it, I have it I guess.”

“We I suppose we all have it then.”

I try to disguise my blush by diving for Jude’s half eaten ice cream inside the cardboard container on the floor and shoving it into his hands. He perches on the edge of Jen’s bed and lays into it, leaving hers on the sheets so she can swirl her good finger around in the rapidly melting contents at the bottom. “Come on.” He presses. “Tell me what the doctors have said.”

She groans. “Okay. They’ve said I need to do physical therapy, because the muscles in my leg will have withered away from disuse. I’ll have to learn how to walk on it again, especially with the break being so close to the hip. It’s all grim, bla bla bla. I’m fucked, basically.”

“You aren’t. You’ll manage.”

“What about your hand?” I chime in. “Did they say they can fix it?”

She sighs. “My bloody right hand. No. I don’t think they can, it’s just the movement of my thumb seems to be a bit… gone. When that shrapnel sliced through my arm, it cut one of the tendons that connects-”

“God, stop!” Jude’s body is one giant spasm of horror. “Please, I love you, and I sympathise, but I can’t hear about your horrible, wet spaghetti tendons again.”

Jen shrugs at me. “Long story short, chick, I’ll have to become left handed.”

“That’s awful.” I say, but she doesn’t really seem to think it’s as dire as I do. “It’s fine. At least I’m not an artist like you, I’m just a politics student. I’ll get over it. The other four fingers work fine.”

“Did they say how much longer you’ll be holed up in here?” Jude wants to know, and she nods. “Another week, maybe? They want to free up the bed, basically, and now that they’ve, like, put all these bolts and plates into me, I’m really just taking up space. I reckon they’ll want me to heal from home as soon as I can, and then they can send me for physical therapy when I’m ready.” She pauses, and then drawls sarcastically. “Can’t wait for that.”

“I’ll be good to be back at Michelle’s though. Rahim will know the right way to care for you.”

“Well, yes, and I’ve been out of my mind bored here. Plus,” She gestures to the curtain that separated her bed from her neighbours. “That man behind there is my nightmare. He eats like an animal and does these rotten wet belches every waking moment. It makes me feel sick. This place is cursed, and I’m bored, I just want to leave.”

Jude looks intently at his ice cream and a little frown appears between his eyebrows. “Any new visitors since the weekend?”

“Michelle, Simon, Shane and Claire, Rahim and Debra, a few of my college friends…”

“That’s all?”

A short, loaded pause. “That’s all.”

“Okay. Do you think she’ll come?”

I watch as Jen’s eyes moisten and words jam in her throat, and she tries her very best to speak evenly around her tears. “No.” She manages, voice a thin wobble. “I doubt it.” I instinctively reach for her hand, even though it’s sticky with ice cream and I squeeze it in mine. She sniffs. “But it’s whatever. Nobody has to come in if they don’t want to.”

“Jen…”

“No, it’s fine.” She pulls her hand away to mop the lone tear that’s spilled over her cheek. “It’s fine, I don’t care. It’s stupid to cry, I think I’m just overwhelmed, or whatever.”

“Good.” Jude says coldly. “You shouldn’t care. Fuck her. You’re better off.”

“Yes. I’m better off now.” She speaks like she’s reading lines, and quickly gathers herself to paste on a bright smile. “Anyway, whatever. Evie, do you want to see the picture I took of the XRay? I’m completely shattered from hip to knee.”

“Yeah, alright.” I say, and she pats the bed so that I can perch in next to her, and Jude looks from the other side, and we both recoil in horror at the sight of the bolts and the plates and the rods, everything that doesn’t belong inside the human body but is inside her now, holding her shattered bones together.

We look through more photos of her injuries until Jude goes a bit grey, and after that we sit around chatting and poking at the liquid ends of our ice creams until visiting hours are over, and my stomach growls for food.

“I promised Evie dinner.” Jude says to her as we get up to go, and she looks impressed. “Wow, lucky her. I wish you were cooking me something too so I wouldn’t have to eat mashed potatoes and miscellaneous boiled meat.”

“Soon you’ll be back in the Tengu’s house, in Malaysian food heaven.” He reminds her. “Shut your eyes and imagine you’re there.”

“I’ll see you soon?” She reaches for him like she suddenly can’t bear for him to leave, and for that single moment she looks heartbreakingly vulnerable and so very tiny in her bed.

“Tomorrow, and every day after that.” He promises.

“Except for the days that you’re off doing someone-” She smirks. “I mean something else.”

“Yes, Jenny.” He rolls his eyes.

“Bye, Evie. Thanks so much for coming.”

“See you, Jen. Get better soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best.” And she blows us both a kiss.

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#lucky girl part 3 #tw: injury #tw: accident #tw: abusive relationship

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