#until they start calling him powerful and it gives him a chub

[kingkatsuki]

Men that don’t even realise how hot they are.

[shibaraki]

tags: AFAB reader (referred to as mama), mention of pregnancy + childbirth, biological baby, established relationship, ushijima is a certified girldad, fluffy fluff I wrote this drabble for my wife (bea)

Soft and warm, the flesh giving under the soft pressure like mochi. Ushijima’s thumb idles over the swell of her cheek, finding he is unable to part with her just yet, and the two watch each other with a similar tilt of curiosity. His little girl, barely a month old. Open mouthed, she turns her head into his touch with a quiet gurgle, instinctively searching for her mothers breast.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he murmurs, as she sounds out her immediate displeasure. A gentle smile pulls at the corner of his mouth when her tightly closed fist begins to wave in the air.

The growth undergone in just four short weeks has been incredible — and deeply emotional. Your midwife had informed him that not only would the newborn soon recognise familiar voices and start to talk more, but her eyes would begin to focus and wander.

“People tell me I’m not very adept at conversation,” he says, speaking with a soothing cadence, not wanting to startle her. “But I suppose you don’t mind, do you?”

She blinks up at him from the changing table, legs bending until her tiny body has curled into itself. And then, like a spring, she kicks him in the sternum.

He wraps his hand around her leg, lightly squeezing the chub around her thigh. She had been born a small baby, and still he has moments of hesitation while handling her. Before you, Ushijima knew intimately the importance of precision, but had not known much about delicacy. Not with himself, the ball in his palm, nor the people around him.

Now it is the back of his daughter's head that rests there. Ushijima Wakatoshi’s canon-powered striking hand, retired to an infant's cradle. The fulfillment is still there — his soul is full in a way he has never experienced. Beside the all encompassing love bloating in his chest, there is a flickering bulb of wonderment. An urge to call his own father and ask, “Did you feel this too, whenever you looked at me?”

“Shall we get you dressed?” he asks, bending to softly rub his nose to her temple. The delighted coo is all the answer he needs.

During your pregnancy, Ushijima spent most of his free time reading. You would sit beside him in bed, the room lit by the warm toned glow of his bedside lamp, and he would read the pages aloud while you lathered your growing stomach in cream.

Childbirth, child development, child rearing. All that knowledge was understood and absorbed, yet none of it could have prepared him for the emotion that came with parenthood. The birth of not only a new baby, but an entirely new world.

A world in which he apparently enjoyed picking out baby clothes. It quickly became his favourite part of the morning. While one hand rubs over her round belly, the other rummages through the dresser drawer until he finds what he is looking for — the mint floral romper.

Dotted across the fabric are mini prints of daisies and smiling bumble bees. The straps have pretty white buttons, as does the bottom to make for easy changing. Rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, Ushijima thinks it’s perfect.

He holds it up, flat to his chest and displaying it to his daughter. “What do you think?” and he smiles, tucking his chin to hold it in place as he reaches back for another clothing item. She squirms as he brings a white cotton shirt into view; the sleeves are long, with sweet little shoulder ruffles.

“Isn’t it pretty?” he continued, overlaying the two together into a cohesive outfit. Her happy babbling encourages him further, faintly giddy as he recalls the matching bow.

He starts with the shirt, widening the neck and gathering the fabric to slowly slip the back around her head, bringing the front down gently over her face. “There you are,” he says, brushing across her forehead. “Now let’s do the sleeves”.

Careful not to permanently stretch the fabric, Ushijima reaches into the sleeve to ease her little hands through. Next comes the romper. Brow pinched in concentration, he undoes each snap button at the bottom and lifts his daughters hips from the changing mat, sliding it down both legs as they kick, and then over her torso.

One by one, he pops the buttons back together and slips the romper straps over her arms and rests them behind the shoulder frills. “As I thought, it is much prettier on you,” he comments, rubbing along her tummy. “I wonder what mama will think”.

Spoken beneath the doorway, “Think about what?”

The sound of your voice warms him from the inside out, and he looks to find you leant against the doorframe, gaze tired and soft. Your daughter reacts similarly, her eyes immediately wandering in search of you.

“Look,” Ushijima moves to support the baby’s head, then cradling her to his chest. He turns, showing you the outfit. “Do you like it?”

You squint as you step forward, a knowing smile playing at the corner of your lips. He leans into your affections when you close the distance, and feels as you thumb over the bumblebee embroidered onto the breast pocket of his own t-shirt.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing a kiss to the crown of your daughter's crown before tilting your chin, asking for another. Ushijima gives, and between tender kisses you tell him, “I love it”.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

mutual gainer stucky where theyre both fattening themselves and each other up, but one of them is suddenly relegated to desk work due to an injury and no longer having to walk around or exercise so much (not to mention snacks always being in easy reach) makes them completely blow up, far outpacing their previous gains. maybe the now significantly-less-fat one teases the other about just how huge theyve gotten in comparison, how they practically look /slim/ next to the absolute whale their partner has become as they continue to stuff their enormous belly even further.

bonus points if there's teasing about just how close to immobility the fatter one is getting with how little they need to walk around, the slimmer one having to help them up onto their feet whenever they sit down and watching them struggle to even waddle ^^

I seem to be going on a spree with everyone’s prompts reminding me of stucky chubby kink fics that I can recommend buuuut I’m going to do it again anyway lol, sorry if it’s annoying:

This gives me “Hot Dish” by superstringtheory vibes 👀

Not because the story is super similar or anything but in that fic, Bucky is just starting to get chubby because he breaks his hip accidentally and Steve attempts to make him feel better by cooking him dish after dish of comfort food, hence the weight gain from not moving and being fed rich foods. Which… is vaguely like your prompt of one half of stucky being forced to do desk work due to an injury, so it’s where my brain went lol.

I do very much appreciate the idea of stucky already gaining when that happens 😏 because the world can always use a little more chub if you ask me

Unbeta'd stucky below the cut. Warning for belly kink, consensual fat shaming and humiliation, name-calling (whale + pig), weight gain, stuffing, immobility, sexting, etc.

Maybe this is another modern without powers alternate universe? Like, Steve and Bucky both work regular jobs and I’m personally picturing pre-war Steve and Bucky, so, Bucky already has the weight and height advantage on Steve when he gets hurt in an accident (car crash, skiing, hiking, I don’t have a specific incident in mind, imagine whatever you want) at which point he piles on a shit ton of weight, very, very fast, making him look that much bigger in comparison to little Steve.

Steve practically looks stick thin next to Bucky’s heavy rolls and all his sinful excess, panting just sitting on the couch, too busy massaging his burbling gut to actually get any of his work done on his laptop (which… where is he supposed to put that laptop anyway? There’s no lap left. Bucky’s obscenely swollen gut takes up all of the space on top of his jiggly, thick thighs 😳).

Pre-accident though…

They both have hefty, impressive pot-bellies going on. Every little bit of chub seems to go to Steve’s belly, so he rounds out more than Bucky in the front. Always round and solid. But Bucky has gained everywhere as well as in his gut- his thighs and ass and chest and shoulders and face have all chunked out some too.

They like to compare, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, belly to belly, faces turned to the side to get their fill of their reflection as they pinch rolls and soft fat and new stretch marks. Exploring their lover's growing bodies together; obsessed with how good it is to grow together.

It’s not that comparing matters all that much though, it’s not a race. They compare for fun… fun that usually ends up with their guts pressing hard into each other, shuffling in close to make out until one or both of them break and they land heavily on the bed. The slats already beginning to creak under their increasing weight.

And pre-accident when they’re both stuffed - spending the day cooking for, pampering, and feeding each other - they both look pregnant. Not, like, realistically pregnant though. No. They look like kids that are playing pregnant by stuffing pillows up under their shirts; bellies just as full at the top as they are at the bottom from this stuffing but also from all the other stuffings they’ve gotten up to before. It’s so hard to not stuff yourself once you pull the trigger on it, y’know? Being full is just that fucking good.

Addictively good.

After though… after the accident (and it’s not extremely serious, just enough to tweak and fracture something in Bucky’s leg so he’s on doctor’s orders to not walk until further notice) Bucky’s gains lap Steve’s. The secret to how quickly the weight explodes out is that he’s not moving. He’s eating the same as when he was mobile though. He’s eating the same and maybe even more because Steve gets a kick out of buying more snacks than they even needed before and leaving all the non-perishable items out on the coffee table (along with Bucky’s lunch for when Steve is gone) within Bucky’s reach, knowing that he will plow through them all thoughtlessly. The only time he thinks about how much he’s packing into himself is when his belly hurts. Groaning and panting. Usually, it’s at that point in the day when his tummy hurts (because it happens every day, let's be real) that he texts Steve a string of pathetic emojis 🥺🥺🥴😮‍💨 plus a few pics of his stomach, bloated large enough that it looks like he’s sticking out all his fat on purpose. He’s not. He’s just that fucking full. Full without any ability to burn even a fraction of the calories off. All of them are gonna turn into fat. Fuck yes.

After receiving his texts, Steve always sneaks away into the bathroom of his work to squeeze his dick through his slacks but also to send Bucky a half whispered, half growled voice memo of “poor baby, lookit you, Buck-! Tsk tsk. I know you’re not allowed to move right now but if you were allowed to… I don’t think you could. Grab that big tummy for me and think about it- do you think you could get yourself to your feet if you tried? I don’t think so. I think you’d be stuck regardless of your leg being okay or not.”

Steve stops recording to breathe. Reminding himself that it is not a good idea to jerk off in your employer's bathroom. He sends that first recording and then starts another...

“I have to go back to work but you should take a break, who’s gonna know? You’re working from home. Take a rest and rub that tummy, you’re a growing boy after all. And you’ll need more room for when I get home to make dinner and dessert anyway.”

He sends that one too.

Then waits for Bucky’s response, heart thudding in his chest.

His response is simply an elegant key smash-

adjkdghlasd;gj

And then-

but u’ll get snacks from the breakroom 2 eat @ ur desk right?!1 🥺

Steve intentionally leaves Bucky hanging until he gets back to his desk, in his little cubical. He’s stolen a soda, a massive filled donut, and as many brownies as he could take without it being suspicious. He smashes a brownie into his face, suppressing his trained instinct to moan at the rich, decadent food. He’s not at home right now. None of his coworkers need to know that he gets off on stuffing his face. Either way, Steve sneakily snaps a photo of his mouth crumbs from the first treat still around his lips. He takes a picture of the small feast he’s brought back too. Captioning it one down…

Bucky will be able to fill in the rest. One down and many more to go.

Hnnnnnggg Bucky’s response vibrates his phone in his hand.

Steve smirks, scarfing his treats down by eating them as fast as he can, eyes sliding shut, pleased, at the way it makes him feel so full so suddenly. Also, he chugs his single-liter bottle of soda. Then, when he’s still breathing heavily while trying to not make too much noise, he takes another photo-

This one is of his belly straining the buttons of his dress shirt, his white undershirt can be seen through the gaps. Under the round dome of his gut, it feels like the waistband of his slacks is trying to cut him in half. He can’t believe he needs to size up again. It hasn’t been, what, even a month since he last upgraded his wardrobe. Goddamn.

Bucky sends him a photo of his face. Eyes dark, mouth open and wet. Wanting.

Now we’ll both have to make room for dinner Steve types, smirking.

f u c k Bucky responds.

After that, Steve pops his slacks open and tries very hard to ignore his bubbling stomach otherwise. He’ll button his pants up again when it’s time to leave. Leave the office and go home to Bucky… his big fat glutton, sitting on the couch all the time.

Eating all the time.

Growing all the time.

…

Steve decided that rather than cooking for them both tonight, he wanted to get takeout. So he orders from their favorite Thai place, getting way more than he thinks they can eat. He kind of hopes they surprise him though… maybe. He won’t expect it.

Bucky doesn’t even say hello when he walks through the door first. He moans first. Thrilled by the scent and asking, “Thai?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Steve answers, closing the door behind him with his fatty hip, hands full with too many things to do otherwise. Steve sweeps the wrappers of the junk food he left out for Bucky on the coffee table to the end of the table, he’ll get them later, right now he just needs to set all this heavy, heavy food down. Not all of the bags and boxes fit on the table. So Steve sets some of them on the floor- they clean and it’s not like they have pets, so it’s fine.

“Not that you should care what I brought home,” Steve purrs, now free of take-out and his work bag and everything, he saddles up to Bucky, throwing one of his thick thighs over Bucky’s thicker (non-injured) thigh. Pressing himself as close to Bucky’s fat as he can. His bloated belly looks like nothing but a little starter pudge next to Bucky’s massive, round buddha statue like belly. As he shifts, sitting on his heavier partner, Steve hears some of his clothes stitching creak. More proof he needs to size up. “It’s not like you need more food. Weren’t you just telling me your stomach hurt?” Helplessly though, Steve starts to rub his belly. Shit. Steve shudders just upon feeling the thick layer of fat over his full stomach.

Bucky’s round cheeks color pink even as his hands conversely come up to grab Steve’s plush ass through his slacks. Pressing their soft, fat bodies together even more. “Yeah…” he whispers.

“Mmm-hmm, I thought so,” he grinds a little against Bucky, unable to not after the sexting session they had this afternoon, “so do you think you really need more food if your belly was just hurting? You really think you need to get bigger? Hon, if you get any bigger when the doctor says you can walk again you won’t be able to. You won’t even be able to waddle around, this heavy belly swaying and jiggling in front of you. Nah. You won’t be able to feel that because it’ll all be pinning you down on your fat ass. Too fat.”

Bucky is breathing heavier now, trying and failing to jerk up into Steve’s hands, already pinned. Wanting more than a belly rub.

“Did you even get any work done today? Or did you just stuff your face?”

Bucky whimpers, eyes dark and so so wanting as he stares up at Steve. He shakes his head slowly as if he’s shy. It’s adorable.

“I didn’t think you did, fatty,” he says, loving every minute of this, “I don’t know why I care though-” he jiggles Bucky’s heavy tummy, blood lighting up hotter at the way he moans “-the bigger you get, the better I look.” Bucky whines. “The bigger and fatter you are next to me, the fewer people pay attention to the growing problem I got myself-” Steve grabs one of Bucky’s pudgy wrists in his fingers, guiding his boyfriend’s hand to his own struggling belly. Steve can’t decide if he’s going to take his dress shirt off the second he peels himself away from Bucky or if he wants to savor the tightness and pop every damn button off as he gluts himself over dinner, sitting on the couch right next to his bigger, heavier boyfriend. “Yeah,” he smirks at the purely undone face and sound Bucky makes, touching him there, where he’s grown the most, “I doubt any of my co-workers would care about all the free snacks disappearing in the break room or the constant sounds of chewing and drinking coming from my cubical if you were in the picture. They’d just see you. You whale. They wouldn’t pay attention to little Stevie- the pig they work with. Nah, they’d only look at you. You would make me look soooo good. You’re so big. Such a whale that a pig like me is nothing in comparison.”

Bucky moans, “Steve-”

The desperation in his voice spurs Steve on, “anyone and everyone would look at you and think about how you must just fucking crush me. Your little, overweight boyfriend. How does Steve breathe with a whale in the bed next to him at night? Oh, is Steve gaining weight? I didn’t notice. Hell, I didn’t even see Steve next to the whale that his boyfriend makes. But now that you mention it… I guess Steve is kind of a pig. I hope he doesn’t get as big as his boyfriend though, that’d be a shame. Wouldn’t it, Buck? Mmfft. It’d be a shame if we both blew up into whales. If I got as big as you. But we both know if I grew to your size you wouldn’t be able to stop while I stuffed myself and gained. You’d keep growing too. And by the time I reach the weight you are now, you’d still be… hmm, what do you think? Are you double or triple my weight? Maybe even bigger than that, huh? What do you say? You'd still be double my weight by the time I reach the size you are now?”

“God! Steve-!” Bucky whines, struggling for breath. He squirms under Steve. If his belly weren’t in the way, Steve knows he’d be able to see how hard his cock is. He loves this. They both love this.

“You wanna keep getting bigger, baby?”

“Yes!”

“You wanna keep being bigger than me even when I’m bigger than almost anyone around? Always rounder and heavier than your little boyfriend, even when I’m just a big, fat, blimp.”

“Yesyesyes! Please, Steve,” Bucky whimpers, tears in his pale eyes.

“Please what?”

“Please fucking touch me, I wanna come! Wanna always be bigger than you!”

“Oh, does the whale wanna come but he can’t get to his cock under all his fucking blubber?” Steve smacks his tummy, feeling intoxicated on the way it makes his whole body ripple, tearing a whiiine out of the much fatter man.

“Yes! Yes! I wanna come. I wanna come. Wanna be fat. So fat. Pleasemakemecome!”

“I can’t fucking wait until we’re both too big to reach our dicks,” Steve murmurs as he hefts Bucky’s huge fucking belly out of the way, searching for his dick. Steve knows he can finish them both off quick enough after the foreplay they’ve had all day that dinner will still be warm by the end. And, shit, he can’t wait to dig in to all the food he bought 🤤🤤 feeding each other and getting fatter might even be better than coming after all

[guiltgoreglory]

Heat Waves (Chapter 2: An Ego Check)

(Very) Brief Summary: Reader is a government contractor joining the team in Benghazi.  (Eventual Tanto x Reader) (2626 words)

Chapter 1

Tagging: @abitofpablo​ @kimburgss​ @ceyruh

You watched as the dust clouds trailed behind the buggy. The rest of the trip you all sat in silence, taking in the events that had just occurred. When you saw the base from a distance you decided it was safe to holster your weapons. You wiped the sweat of your palms on your thighs as you willed your heart to slow down, and so it did. The second you felt back at equilibrium, Rone took a quick turn into the base. To no surprise, it was the most conspicuous looking place you could have imagined. You expected better from the CIA. Several armed American guards stood at the gate which was surrounded by obvious cameras. You rolled your eyes knowing that if anyone wanted to target us, it wouldn’t be hard. One guy even wore a New York Yankee’s cap. It’s like they didn’t even try.

“Check the new rides. Gaddafi had a going-out-of-business sale on armored vehicles…” Rone gestured towards the Mercedes amongst several other high-end vehicles. He whistled. Leave it to Rone to keep the tone light. “Max-leveled armored, man. We got a great deal… We stole ‘em.” Rone stared down Jack with the biggest smirk plastered on his face. He seemed extremely proud of himself for that one. You watched as a similar smile tugged at the corners of Jack’s lips. You behaved similarly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a shitty joke. 

You gathered your things as the car came to a stop. Rone hopped out, throwing the keys to another man wearing a vest, “Sat unattended at the airport.” His stride paused as he watched someone from afar. You followed his gaze until you saw the Chief. This was definitely going to be something, you didn’t know what, but you could feel the subordination getting ready to bubble out of Rone. “Hey, Chief,” Rone called, nonchalantly, almost mockingly. The Chief looked like any middle-aged man who worked in business. Blue blazer, khaki pants, glasses, the whole shebang. His posture screamed superiority complex, you knew from the get-go you wouldn’t get along, not like it mattered anyway.

“I don’t want to hear it, Tyrone.” He called back, shuffling his way back into the building. Rone strutted towards him, duffel in hand. 

“No, no, I understand.” He turned his head for a moment, keeping out of the way of a car

driving past. “I see what you’re going for here,” he called, on the verge of yelling, “Secret spy base with fortified walls, gate cameras,” He fumbled to get his id badge in hand. “and blue-eyed Westerners! walking in and out of this place all day long.” He did a lovely spin for emphasis, pointing towards all the obvious Americans walking around the base. You followed close behind, knowing you were going to need to speak with him as soon as Tyrone was done tearing into him. “But if you want to avoid..” His words were cut off by the Chief slamming the squeaky metal door in your face. His voice dropped a decibel and he spoke, mostly to himself, “That’s so rude”. He placed his phone into the tray mounted on the wall beside the door, before scanning in his card to gain entry. “Can’t believe he just did that to me.” Your heart started to pick up once again. Nothing made you more frustrated than a cocky man being too good to have a goddamn conversation.

The door let out a loud buzz before Rone pushed open the entrance. “Chief, if you want to avoid an international incident,” He continued to track in the Chief’s footsteps, “you send me my guys when I ask for them.” Many of the agents sitting at their computers peeked up to watch the drama unfold. Some took a look at you, the new face, before returning to watch the catfight.

Finally, the man turned to look at Tyrone, squinting in disapproval like a man reprimanding his toddler. “Local faces need to resolve local conflicts, Tyrone.” Aka, your life means little to nothing to me; the incident was just a wrinkle in my daily schedule. He flipped mindlessly through papers within a manilla folder. Wow he’s so important look how busy he is. “We’re guests in this country.” You and Jack came to stand a few feet behind Rone, trying to stay close without poking the bear. 

“We’re unwanted guests, Bob.” Rone rebutted. He’s not wrong. 

“We’re spies, you’re security guards.. Your job is to keep us out of trouble, not get into it yourselves.” God, he’s pretentious. Rone flipped through some files pinned onto a pillar, looking through some photos of notable people of the region. 

“Well help me do my job and give me my guys.” He didn’t bother giving the Chief the privilege of his eye-line as he continued to search through the photos. You heard a buzz, and quickly turned to see the other members of the squad you were now a part of. Perfect timing. You made eye contact with one of them, Chris Paronto. Based on your prior research everybody called him Tanto, the mischievous one. Just then the Chief said some absolute bullshit.

“Here’s what you guys are good at: working out, eating five hot meals a day. What you’re not so good at is doing what you’re told.” God, he was so fucking proud of himself. Look at you little man, showing off your power in front of your team. You let a little of your annoyance slip out. 

“Ironic considering without us, everyone’s a sitting duck.” You whispered softly. The men all turned their heads towards you. Well, I guess now is as good a time as ever to get this over with. 

“Excuse me? And who are you? Some ex-army nobody who can’t let go of the glory of war?” 

Alright, time to rip off the bandaid. You stood a little taller, stepping closer to the Chief, just beside Rone. “Honestly... I’m someone out of your security clearance.” You said assertively. Jack shared a hesitant look with Rone.

“Bullshit.” He turned away from you, readying to remove himself from the conversation. 

“Alright, I think it’s best if we get a phone call over with now.” You dropped your duffel onto the tile, squatting down beside it. The armed men gripped their guns just a little bit tighter. The Chief stood, watching you confused. You unzipped the bag, reaching in to wrap your hands around a satellite phone. You zipped it back up but left it on the ground for now.

“I don’t have time for this.” The Chief began to walk towards his office as you stood, clicking a number on speed-dial. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The director doesn’t like waiting.” You held the phone to your head, keeping a straight face. That definitely made him pause. He turned back towards you, squinting his little face up. 

“Director of what?” He sighed. 

“Director of the Central Intelligence Agency.” You responded casually as if you were telling him the forecast for the next week. You waited as the phone continued to ring. 

Everyone stood in silence except for one guy. Tanto leaned over to whisper in Boon’s ear. “Who the fuck is she?”

Finally, a voice came over the line. “Y/N.”

“Good morning, Sir. We have arrived at the location.” Everyone had their eyes on you, curiosity getting the best of them.

“Any incidents?”

“One en route to base. Resolved without violence. I’ll have a report to you within the hour.”

“Great.” He took a deep breath and you could hear him adjust in his chair. “I take it you’d like me to speak with Bob.”

“That would be appreciated, Sir.”

“Alright hand me over.” You took steady, calculated steps towards the Chief, holding the phone out for him to take. He gently took it from your hand. His eyes bore holes into the crevices of the tiled floor.

“Hello..” The Chief said tentatively. You stepped back, giving him some room. You crossed your arms across your chest, shrugging in Rone’s direction. You could tell he was living for this. “Yes, Sir…. I understand, Sir. Of course…. Goodbye.” He stood like a dog with his tail between his legs. He stepped back towards you, holding out the phone. You took it gladly with a polite smile. Pressing the phone back to your ear you concluded with a quick farewell before going back to put your phone into the duffel. As you squatted beside it, you looked up towards the Chief. 

“Are we good?” You said. You no longer wanted to squabble and your tone reflected as such. 

“Yes.” He said curtly, returning to his office. The second the door closed, the chatter of the room returned back to normal. You turned back to the men of the team looking at Rone expectantly. 

“Alrighty then.” Rone turned to walk towards their lounge and the guys began to follow. Tanto sucked in his lips, trying to stifle a chuckle. The burly man next to him, Boon, jabbed him in the side before moving towards the room. You waited for Jack, giving him a genuine, small smile before trailing behind. 

“Well, that was fun.” Mark Geist, also known by the team as “Oz”, stated monotonously, walking into the room as he disassembled his rifle. 

“He gets his jollies pushing around alphas because he can.” John Tiegen. Called “Tig”. He’s the brains. The first one to be stationed here. You stood in the corner watching as he placed his things into his cubby. 

“We had this commander back in ranger school, he was a real cockbag…” Creative insult. Tanto began to remove his vest as he narrated on. You figured you’d be here for a minute so you pulled the straps of your cello case off of your shoulders placing it onto the floor, along with your duffel. Now that you were within the compound you took off the hijab, throwing it on top of the luggage. You flipped your head forward shaking out the matted hair before you pulled it into a bun. It was a mess but it did the job.

“So on our last night, me and a buddy, we stole his beret.” He placed his vest down on the table before plopping down onto the worn couch. “Whole barracks chubbed it.”

“Chubbed it?” Boon replied, his tone made you think he really didn’t want to know, whipping out his knife to fidget with.

“Yeah, rubbed our dicks on it.” Tanto replied, the widest smile crossing his face. He looked like the Cheshire cat as he reached for the gaming controller. You coughed, stifling your laugh before your face turned quizzical. He turned back towards you, noticing your reaction before giving you a quick up and down and returning to his game. You sauntered over to Jack to join in the awkwardness of being new. You tuned into Tig as he was beginning to talk work to Rone. He leaned forward over a desk that Rone was sitting at. 

“Leader was a former Gitmo detainee.” They scanned the rugged laptop, you presumed that they were looking for who you’d tangoed with this morning.

“Yeah, those guys usually don’t hold a grudge.” Rone said in his usual sarcastic tone. 

“Hey guys,” Oz’s voice pulled you from your concentration as you turned to face him with a friendly smile. “Mark Geist, Oz.”

“Pleasure.” Jack went to shake his hand and you followed suit.

“Ah guys I’m sorry.” Rone spun on his office chair to face the rest of the crew. “Everybody, this is Jack Silva. It’s our third contract together so he knows the drill. We met training SEALs at Coronado.”

Tanto turned back for a second. “How do you get them to balance that beach ball on their nose?” A few chuckles could be heard from the guys.

“It’s tough.” Jack’s shoulders relaxed slightly, letting himself become more comfortable around his new team. 

“And this” He gestured his hand towards you. “is Y/N. She’s uhh..” He paused for a split second, trying to find the right word to describe you. “black-ops and apparently has the government at her fingertips so she’ll probably be of use.” You smirked, nodding your head towards the guys. Rone rose from his spot, spreading his arms across the room. “So we got three ex-Marines here and one ex-Army retard who likes to rub his dick on things.” Tanto stood proudly facing you two. 

“Kris Paronto. Call me Tanto.” You both shook his hand. You found Tanto’s demeanor amusing, and much to your dismay, his confidence was undeniably attractive. Despite the tall crowd, he still somehow towered above them. You shared eye contact for a brief moment before turning towards Tig. Although he felt easy to get along with, you hoped his casual demeanor didn’t affect his work. In your experience, the joker usually got people killed. Despite this, what you had researched, he seemed to be doing alright so far. 

“Hey. I’m Tig.” He waved towards you two.

“Tig’s been here the longest, so he’ll get you up to speed on the area,” Rone said, stabbing a red pin into a map. Looking in more detail you noticed it was the location of your incident. “This is Boon. Scout Sniper, Zen Master, Holder of Tanto’s leash.” He pointed to the man sitting in the sturdy armchair. 

He looked up from his lap. “Welcome to Club Med.”

“It hasn’t rained since June. It’s not gonna rain again until September.” He walked right up to you two strolling past slowly. “You two will be double-bunked. Not me, because I’m in charge. Gym sucks,” damn “food’s actually good.” Lose, win. 

Tig walked to the center of the room, a few feet from the three of you. “Base Chief is kinda a tool, but who knows, maybe now that you’re here he’ll be moderately tolerable.” 

You shrugged. “No promises but if he gets too snippy I’ll whip out the phone again.” 

“Maybe he just needs a new hat” Jack quipped. Tanto looked up from the TV to point appreciatively at Jack. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Rone said as if talking about his puppy.

“Come on. He’s just a guy with a job to do.”Oz said. Based on the dynamic he was the dad of the group. Honest, serious, tough-love type of guy. Makes sense given he’s the sniper.  “He’s playing his string out, but if you talk to him, Bob did some shit back in the day.” You’d heard it a million times, some badass joins the CIA works his way up until he’s practically just a desk jockey with a power problem. Didn’t gain him any sympathy from you.

“Alright, Jack, Y/N, this is the whiteboard that’s gonna run your life for the next sixty days.” You looked over the various points of the board as Jack made his way towards the couch. Given the limited space you preferred standing just behind, leaning your hip against the back. “I want you to check it every hour cause last-minute moves pop up every minute, such as... where shotgunning it in three hours.” Everyone in the room except you, Jack, and Rone let out an audible groan of annoyance. Tanto slapped his controller onto his lap, looking up to the ceiling. Before concentrating back on the game, he looked at you. You took this opportunity to raise an eyebrow in his direction given his childlike reaction to the news. He responded with a strong but blank stare. You rolled your eyes slightly, breaking eye contact to pay attention to Rone. You were used to being dispatched on the drop of the hat, acclimating to the schedule here probably wouldn’t be too much of a pain.

“Three hours. I’ll let you know when I’m briefed.”

[lady-z-writes]

Chapter 2 of my Heisenberg x Reader fic is finally out!

Smut below the cut:

The large door slams behind [Y/N], blocking out the cold air. Brushing passed Heisenberg, she tosses the logs down on the fire, urging it to roar back to life.

He’s staring when she glances over her shoulder. When he’s caught, he looks away bashfully, pretends to really be focusing on the pictures on her wall.

“Take your coat off,” [Y/N] demands as she stands.

“What?”

“Your coat. Take it off.”

Heisenberg narrows his eyes, grips at his hammer. “What are you playing at?”

She smirks. “Cute. I don’t plan to undress you, despite what Serena’s pheromones might be convincing you.”

“They have no power over me,” he denies, setting his hammer down.

[Y/N] merely raises an eyebrow at him, extends her hand for his jacket.

The thought of being undressed makes his gut flip for some reason so he busies himself by removing the coat and handing it to her. His hands are shaking so he clenches and unclenches his gloved fist to try to warm up his fingers.

She disappears into another room for a moment before returning with a glass and a whiskey bottle. His coat is placed on a nearby rack, moved closer to the fire to dry it off.

“To warm you up,” she suggests, handing him the whiskey and glass. “I’ll run you a hot bath.”

“N-no, that won’t be necessary,” but his body is chilled through and he’s pulling a chair closer to the fireplace in order to warm up.

[Y/N] leaves once more, ignoring him completely.

“Ignorant bitch.” Opening the bottle, he pours himself some whiskey, takes a sip. “Good booze, though.”

Heisenberg wants to inspect the books on a nearby shelf, but the warmth of the fire is too enticing. He realizes that he’s still feeling a little dazed after the incident with the tree-lady. There’s still a heaviness in his gut, a vague need that he doesn’t want to acknowledge right now – and he’s sure it has everything to do with those pheromones.

[Y/N] returns at the worst moment; right as he’s flashing back to the incident in the snow – his hands tracing over skin…he hasn’t touched someone like that in…-

“Bath’s ready,” [Y/N] announces. “If you are.”

Forearms pressing to his thighs, he leans forward, hoping he can cover himself until it’s safe to stand up.

He tries distracting himself with chatter, but he’s struggling on where to begin. He has so many questions.

“How many Cadou experiments live here?” he decides to start there.

[Y/N] sits on the chair nearest him. “Well…the ones that aren’t failures?”

“Failures?” he repeats.

“I mean, I guess we all kind of are. Miranda���s island of misfit toys – those of us that didn’t have influential families; those that had powers that just didn’t make the cut to exist in the main village.” The conversation is very distracting for his current predicament. “You have…-Lycans, aren’t they?” he nods. “Think of our Wendigo in a similar manner.”

Heisenberg gets it now. “And the rest?”

“Like I said: there’s no ruler, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“And Miranda?” he drones.

[Y/N] goes still now. “I think your bath will get cold.”

Heisenberg stands in an instant, uses his free hand to grip at her throat. He crouches.

“You’ll answer me. Now.”

[Y/N] nods against his hand, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his lips. “She’s always monitoring – even when we think she isn’t.”

“Are they devout?” he nods toward the door, asking about the other villagers.

“Not entirely,” [Y/N] chokes out.

“Are you?”

“Are you?” she retorts.

With a huff, Heisenberg lets go of her throat, stands, cusses.

It’s not that he wants a bath, but it surely would warm him up. Plus, they’re at a standstill; one of them has to make a move in order to progress. But if he admits his disdain for Miranda, will she tattle? Can he trust her?

She’s left him alone upstairs so naturally he’s scoping out the place. Nothing fancy: two bedrooms and a bathroom. She’s got crystals strewn about in odd places, candles lit, all the curtains drawn. It’s quaint.

The door doesn’t lock, which is unfortunate. Heisenberg grumbles the entire time he’s undressing, but the steam from the hot water is making him feel better already. It’s…inviting. He’d never admit it aloud.

Feeling foolish, he settles into the steaming tub with a sigh – not realizing how chilled he actually was, how sore he’d been. The small table beside the tub makes a convenient place to put down his whiskey, right beside the soaps. He imagines [Y/N] placed the table in here for a similar reason; that or reading in the tub.

He has plenty on his mind – many more questions he needs to ask [Y/N] but he can’t – not until he knows whose side she’s on.

Despite his best efforts, his mind still drifts. [Y/N] isn’t…unattractive by any means. He’s sure his wandering mind has everything to do with those pheromones from that tree-lady, but the way [Y/N] was looking up at him when he had his hand around her neck…

“Fuck,” he hisses as he looks down through the clear water.

Hard. Again.

Shifting deeper into the tub, he tries to ignore it, enjoy the warmth, heat up…but he can’t shake the need in him.

Agitated, he decides to clean up a bit, surprised she didn’t leave him with flowery-scented soaps.

Fighting instinct, Heisenberg refuses to relax any longer – lest he falls asleep in this tub. His hard cock is still distracting. Well, it’s this or be disjointed all night; let his eyes travel all over her body instead of focusing on the answers he desires.

Her skin felt so soft…it felt so good to touch someone in that way.

His closed fist is moving around his cock before he even realizes he’s doing it; the slight whooshing of the water too loud for his taste. Right now, the thought of [Y/N]’s laughter as she sees him like this – teases him for being needy. It’s downright insulting.

Embarrassing to be masturbating in some stranger’s home; shameful, yet…sort of…erotic?

Thumb gliding over his tip, he arches and bites back a moan. He lets the water glide around him while he exhales through his nostrils.

Close. Too close.

He hears the whistling wind outside, decides to swallow down the remainder of the whiskey before he gets serious with his intention. There’s a nagging feeling that he needs to get this out of his system in order to really focus on what he’s doing here. Damn that temptress.

Heisenberg steps out of the tub, wraps himself in the soft towel [Y/N] left for him, and starts stroking his cock again as the water drains.

Closing his eyes, he lets himself fantasize…images of Serena, of [Y/N], his scarred hand on her soft skin, the way she looked at his half-chub, how she felt pressed against him. How long had it been since he’d let himself fantasize? Longer, still, since he’d touched anyone in a remotely sexual manner.

And there was a reason for that.

Because he couldn’t stop himself.

It’d been so long that he knew it would be the floodgates opening – a total fucking disaster for whatever poor soul gets his attention. He’d start and not want to let go. Heisenberg had shrouded himself away from his animalistic desires for so long, he’s almost nervous to see who he’ll become if the levee broke.

Well, he’s about to find out.

Fist pumping around his cock, he lets himself feel this pleasure. It isn’t long before he’s biting back grunts as he spills into the draining water, frantically chasing that release.

It’s enough to take the edge off, but it also isn’t nearly what he truly desires.

Dressing, he cracks his neck and takes a second to refocus, button up, shove down what he just unburied.

Right.

His goal is to learn this village, know what [Y/N] knew, maybe make an ally – a useful ally, might he add.

If only he could get passed that mouth of hers.

•••

[Y/N] is in the kitchen when he comes down – whiskey bottle a little lighter, clearly, she’s been drinking too. It smells amazing in the house and he realizes she’s mixing a pot of soup.

“I hope you’ll have some…and then I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Leave?” he repeats her. “Oh, no, I’ve got questions and you’ve got answers. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

The name wasn’t endearment but she still heats up anyway. A Lord calling her this? Unreal.

“I just…I really think it’s best for you,” she ladles soup into a bowl for him, places it on the kitchen table.

“What, you turn into a Lycan at midnight?”

“Nothing like that,” she dismisses.

“Then what?” he puts himself in her personal space, towers over her, likes the stirring in his chest. “I’m not moving until you tell me why.”

She looks contemplative – frustrated.

“It’s because of Mother Miranda, okay?”

He cocks his eyebrow at her. “S’that so?”

“I answered you, can you move?”

He raises his hands, side-steps, turns toward her as she takes a few steps back.

“You and Miranda talk much?”

She’s silent again, places her own bowl on the table. “Eat before it gets cold.”

“Rather powerless to be making these kinds of demands,” he teases.

“And in my presence, so are you.”

The menacing look he gives her makes her freeze. In an instant, she’s pushed up against the wall; his forearm against her neck, body pressing harshly against hers.

His gaze flicks down to her lips as she lets out a shaky – almost erotic – breath.

He doesn’t even say anything, simply presses his thigh between her legs just to hear that sound again. She bites her lip to muffle it, but it’s there, and he can feel a jolt in his abdomen. The excitement that blooms in him is surprising.

“So, I’m still having a reaction from that bitch’s pheromones – what’s your excuse?”

She’s embarrassed, called out, and it looks cute on her. He shifts his thigh just slightly but enough to earn a startled look.

“H-Heisenberg, I’m sorry.”

He hums a, “don’t be” before ducking to kiss her.

She kisses him back, meeting tentatively until his fingers knot in her hair and pull. It’s like he’s awakened something in her too, the way she’s hungry for more. Her hands drape over his shoulders as he removes his forearm from her throat. Hair still damp, he’s hatless and she thinks it’s handsome.

“You should eat,” she finally manages between heated kissing.

“Mmmm, yeah, I should…”

The innuendo makes her heated, pawing at his shirt yet almost trying to push him away.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, sir. It’s Serena’s power still.”

“And how, exactly, do I stop it?”

“This’ll just feed into it more,” she says this, but her eyes are taking in every inch of him that she can see – the crush she’s developed starting to make itself known. “It’ll wear off in time, but…” his fingers trail down her neck, lower until he cups a breast. “You aren’t exactly helping speed up the process.”

“May as well have fun with it, right?”

[Y/N] inhales sharply as his lips meet hers again in a hurried kiss. She doesn’t pull back right away, but lets him linger there before her better judgement kicks in.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she tries to sound demanding, harsh, but her voice waivers.

“Says who?”

“Says Miranda.”

Talk about a boner-killer. Heisenberg takes a step back, watches [Y/N] try to right herself. He narrows his eyes, sits down at the table.

“So, you do talk to her?”

[Y/N] shakes her head, sitting too. “When she sent me away to live here, she told me to stay away from the village – from you all.”

They’re silent during the time it takes them to eat their soup; him trying to focus on her words but still finding his mind drifting to more physical things, and her crossing her legs while barely tensing them just to try and get some stimulation.

She’s flustered, he can see that, but he’s sure it’s from the confession she just made.

“How ‘bout another drink?” he grabs the bottle and [Y/N] jumps up to get him a new glass, following orders.

He’s another half glass in by the time she gets the guts to say, “For the record, I’m not devout.”

At her words, he remains silent and she doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. He could turn her into Miranda for that – clue her in that one of her creations isn’t praying to her every day. She’d wondered about the others – how the Lords took to Miranda’s demands and regulations.

“Really now?” he finally replies.

“Figure I’ve got a target on my back anyway. What’s the point in keeping it from you?”

He quirks a brow at her. “And what’s your plan if I tell her that?”

She shrugs. “I’m sure it won’t make much difference in the long run.”

The hollow look in her eyes is telling.

He leans back, finishes off his drink. “Noted, dollface.”

She deadpans at him, ignoring the nickname. “You’re not gonna scurry off and tell her any of that?”

“Why? Should I?”

“I mean, no.”

“Well, then?” he laughs at the stunned look on her face. “Look, I want the bitch dead more than anyone else. We just gotta play the game for now. And her finding out about those of us that aren’t devoted to her? Not a good game plan.” She wants to respond, but she looks shocked. “Ah, what, surprised?”

“You…want to kill…Miranda?”

“Yeah,” he says it so nonchalant, like it’s nothing.

It’s subtle, but she lifts her glass and clinks it with his in a sort of toast.

So, they’re in agreement then?

[nicostolemybones]

Bodyswap, Godswap

@solangeloweek a little late but! A twist on Godswap because I was planning an Ares/Hecate Godswap but couldn't decide who I preferred to be in the Hecate cabin

Tw: heavy swearing

Nico was not happy to be woken up. He was even less happy to be woken up by the mythical entity known as 'sunlight'. He tried to bury himself back in his blankets in confusion, but then. Then. Music. Not even good music. Some song from Shrek everybody loved. And then. Then. Some fucker in his room started playing some kind of annoying ass squeaky clarinet solo. Sure, Nico could play the clarinet, but it was clear that this motherfucker was purposely making it squeak. 

Nico practically ripped the blankets off- and promptly hissed and winced at the sunlight. He tried to close his curtains but somehow the damn sunlight still got through. How? He had blackout curtains, there was no godsdamned way. So, he realised, he must have shadow travelled in his sleep. He groaned loudly, turning to look around-

Well fuck.

There was Will's siblings. The annoying Clarinet player stepped forwards, pointed the damned thing right next to his ear, and squeaked it loudly. The sound hurt, splitting through Nico's skull. He tried to swat the clarinet down, but he severely miscalculated and accidentally rammed the clarinet further in the person's mouth, and now they were crying and their teeth were bleeding and wow Nico was such a jerk. 

Everybody was staring at him in shock, so Nico ran into the bathroom to breathe and stop panicking before he'd apologise, but as soon as he looked in the mirror-

He screamed.

Because that was very much Will in the mirror. Nico was about to assume that Will had Iris messaged him- until he noticed Will's face mirroring his expressions. And that is when Nico truly panicked. Because he was in Will's body. He was not in his own body, he was in Will's body, and Will was wearing pyjamas like a heathen and there was no way Nico was going to undress him to dress him again because this was not his body and he had no idea what Will would be comfortable with. Also Nico was fourteen okay, and whilst he was curious, he was far more awkward and uncomfortable.

He didn't want to leave Will's body all sweaty and gross, though, so he filled the sink with water and decided to wash over his face, neck, hands, and arms.

-

Will definitely felt weird. He hadn't seen any sunlight, it was pitch black aside from… was that… Greek fire torches? He didn't remember going to sleep in Nico's cabin… maybe he was just groggy because there was no natural light in here. He opened the curtains, wincing as his spine protested. He must have threw his back out carrying all the boxes into the infirmary yesterday, but he didn't remember them being that heavy… he stretched, but the pain in his back got worse, so he headed to the bathroom. He decided to go straight for a shower, but as he went to take his clothes off, he realised… this was not his body. 

They were Nico's jeans and Nico's shirt, the same ones he'd worn yesterday. And they were a little loose, and Will was definitely not that thin when he went to sleep. He backtracked to Nico's mirror and his suspicions were confirmed when Nico's sleep deprived face stared back at him. So a shower was very much out of the question. And sure, Will had seen many campers in states of undress in the infirmary, but it was very different when this was his boyfriend, whose body he was in, where it wasn't a matter of life or death. Will sniffed his pits- and decided against doing that again. It didn't seem like Nico had showered in a while, so he must have hit a rough patch. 

Nico's hair was matted, so Will decided to take the time to care for it, brushing it through then bending over the sink to carefully wash it- they both had a similar hair type, so Will wasn't too worried about ruining it- although, Nico didn't have shampoo, so Will had to improvise and hope for best. Will went over Nico's face and arms and cleaned behind his nails, and quickly wiped his armpits under his shirt so Nico's body didn't smell of sweat for Nico's comfort when he was back in it- and also so he'd have less to worry about when he was back in his body. 

Nico's skin was definitely more sensitive than Will's- not necessarily painful, but the fabric of his shirt was irritating and overwhelming, and Will finally understood why Nico didn't like touch too much, because yikes… that wasn't very fun. And Will was also screwed because he didn't know what foods would make Nico nauseous, or what time he preferred to take his pain meds.

-

Nico was not having a good time when he marched over to his own cabin. Will was stupidly tall, and Nico was not used to the extra height. When he'd sat down, he'd almost fallen backwards, because he hadn't calculated how much taller than the chair Will was in comparison to Nico. He knocked on his own cabin door, and was not prepared to see himself stood there.

"I'm- short," Nico noted, and Will nodded. 

"So small. Also wow I'm… taller than I thought."

"I don't feel like I'm about to pass out," Nico noted, "is this what healthy feels like?"

"No," Will laughed, "gods no, I'm far from healthy, give it, like, an hour, you'll still feel tired and dizzy."

"I don't feel tired though," Nico shrugged, "this is the least tired I've felt."

"I feel like I've been awake for four days," Will replied, "I have no energy…"

"Yeah, welcome to chronic fatigue, try not to fall asleep in your breakfast and if you do fall asleep, try not to murder the at least five people who chew you out for being lazy during training. Just… good luck, you poor bastard. I've had time to get used to this, you…" Nico gestured to Will "are an insufferably healthy morning person, good luck."

"Well thanks(!) Also I feel we should set boundaries here. Just, no touching the, yeah, that's a good boundary. No looking either."

"Obviously," Nico replied hastily, "now let's never bring that up again before I die of embarrassment!"

"Agreed," Will snorted. "Hey, do you think we can use each other's powers?"

"...I wonder if we can use our own powers but… with each others. Like… light travel or shadow healing. And then, when we're back in our own bodies, we can… we can just teach each other how we did that…"

"Oh my god we can become ten times more awesome-"

"I'll race you!" Nico bolted off towards the training arena before Will could protest. Will was always declaring a race, and Nico could never catch up, way too short and way too sick to actually manage to catch up. But now? In Will's body? With long legs and daily running? When Will would never miss a leg day? Nico had never run quite so fast and it was awesome, although he figured he maybe should have dressed Will in something else, because the fabric of his pyjamas was seriously chafing where his thighs met. But then. Then Nico discovered that flip flops were not easy to run in. He lost one, and tripped over the other, and faceplanted the floor. Seriously, how in the hell did Will manage to outrun six heavily armed Romans in these?

Will caught up to him, wheezing, and immediately sat on the floor. "Christ Neeks," he gasped, "your fucking lungs are shit!"

"Flip flops? Seriously? Will these are a death trap!"

"What the fuck is your spine playing at, why is it trying to murder me right now?!"

"How the hell do you deal with the chub rub, it hurts!"

"Talcum powder," Will replied, still catching his breath. "And you're. Definitely coming back to the infirmary for more tests."

"Give me a few days," Nico conceded, and Will nodded, standing up- and immediately staggering.

"Fuck, where's my vision gone-"

"Where you left it," Nico replied deadpan, but Will was too busy waving his hand in front of his face.

"Will it come back or do I have to call it like a dog?"

"Just move around a little. It leaves this weird fuzzy pressure in your skull a little when it comes back but you won't pass out if you still got your hearing."

"Oh my god how are you not dead yet, what the hell is wrong with your body why is it doing this to me?"

"A lot of things, doc," Nico replied, springing to his feet, "a hell of a lot of things. It's your problem now!" Will groaned dramatically, slowly walking towards the training arena.

-

Will was definitely having fun. Nico's powers were just so cool, so fun, and so emo. He had to resist the urge to make his own edgy music videos to MCR songs using the shadows and skeletons as special effects. 

He was currently watching Nico using his powers, which was definitely a sight to behold. Nico was manipulating the light into heavily concentrated rays, stepping inside them, and emerging elsewhere. He was placing his hands upon the bones beneath them and breathing life into them, returning their souls. How could a son of Apollo do necromancy? But Nico… Nico had spent the last few years amongst the dead, and it was allowing him to use his knowledge to manipulate Will's powers into something stronger, something unstoppable. And Nico had discovered how to make deadly whips of light, how to create haemorrhagic plagues, how to create a sonic whistle loud enough that it may deafen or kill. In just a few short hours, Nico had unlocked abilities Will wasn't sure he was even supposed to have.

And then it was Will's turn with Nico's powers… but what could he do? Nico was already… well, overpowered. He was able to boost Nico's healing powers using the shadows, was able to use Nico's ability to solidify the shadows to create tiny tools- he could will the shadows into a body, turn them into sutures, use them to hold off a bleed. Will discovered he could break or fix bones, could fuse them, could unfuse them. He discovered he could turn his hand transparent, could reach inside and fix the problem without cutting people open. He could use the shadows to freeze or cauterize, could keep an organ on ice in the shadows, or burn the flesh to stem a bleed. He could return a soul to the body from the underworld, could stop death… 

Well fuck. When using each other's powers, with the knowledge and skills of their own… they were doing things that they were sure were… were never intended for a demigod to do… that made them more powerful than their parents. 

Suddenly, experimenting with their powers felt dangerous.

[zmediaoutlet]

have a cigar

new fic for the Sunday Morning Porn Club; having some s2 feels and thinking about how big and wild and uncertain Sam was in those early days. But also thinking about porn.

title: have a cigar pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E length: 5500 words tags: Season/Series 02, New Relationship, slight D/s, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Post-Episode: s02e05 Simon Said            

summary: What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

(read on AO3)

They’re over the state border from Oklahoma into Kansas when Dean indicates that he’s getting off the highway. Sam looks up at the sound of the blinker, looks around. "What, gas?" he says. They’re not that far out from Guthrie, so unless Dean has to pee—

"Nah, we’ve still got a hundred miles left in the tank," Dean says, rolling the car smoothly onto the offramp. Wellington, Kansas: population 8,105, and exactly no reason for them to be stopping. Sam frowns across the bench and Dean glances at him, and then rolls his eyes. "Jeez. A guy can’t want a break? We were up all night, man, dealing with the psychic twins. Plus you got a head injury. Sue me, I’m taking a minute."

"It's not really a head injury," Sam says. Kansas outside the car windows—mid-morning, green. "We told Ellen we’d be right there." He rubs his hand under the edge of his cast, rolling the tendons under his thumb. "What if she’s got a case or something?"

"Then it can wait half a day," Dean says, and it’s a little louder than it needs to be. He’s got a grip at ten-and-two, his jaw square. Sam looks at him and hears his voice in a perfect echo, saying you’re all part of something that’s terrible, and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that it throbs but he doesn’t say anything, after that.

Outskirts of towns tend to look the same. Truckstop, motel attached. A McDonald’s. Dean pilots them to a vaguely dirty Mexican place that looks like it last had its decor updated in 1987, and when they’re at the dented formica table with their plastic menus Dean lets out a sigh that sounds like it came from his feet. "You think they’d give me a margarita at, uh, 11:32 in the morning?" he says.

He does look tired. Sam sucks the sore inside of his cheek. "Probably goes great with huevos rancheros," he says, and gets Dean to smile at him, so—all right. A little break.

The food’s bland, given the cornfields all around, but comforting too. They don’t talk much. Dean looks over a copy of the Wichita Eagle that someone left behind, in some obituary-scanning reflex; Sam swirls his fork through his larded refried beans and looks out the window, thinking. Andy, and Ansem. Brothers, though Andy didn’t know it until it was too late, and Ansem went bad but Andy—

Dean knocks his boot into Sam’s ankle, and Sam flinches but when he refocuses Dean’s looking at him, kinda soft. Kinda not soft. Kinda defiant, in that weird way that he’s started to do, and Sam feels heat rush into his cheeks, seeing. Dean smiles like he won something, even if his ears go pink, too, and he wipes his mouth with the balled napkin and says, "I’m going to the can," and Sam says, "Oh, great, thanks for the update," because they are brothers, and Dean smirks and walks off with a kind-of swagger and it’s not Sam’s fault that that calls attention to the shape of his ass, but Sam’s looking, either way.

The waitress offers more iced tea, when Dean’s gone. "No, gracias," Sam says. She raises her eyebrows a little but puts down the check. Sam leans back in the booth, spinning his unused knife as best he can in his busted hand, looking again out the window. Trucks, and a cornfield, and blue skies. Plain and familiar, and if he tries to imagine a demon coming here, a darkness swarming over it, somehow it just—doesn’t compute. But there was Andy, and Ansem, just a hundred miles south of here in an easy calm town that had no idea what was coming, and they brought murder with them. Killers, and freaks, and the town and its people hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve it.

"What, you forget how to pay a tab?"

Sam jerks, brought back to earth. Dean’s standing slouched, one hip leaning on the table, rifling through his wallet.

"Swear, you’re a lousy date," Dean says, dropping a pile of cash onto the little plastic tray, but he’s got a smile threatening, tucked into the corners of his mouth, and Sam’s—god, he didn’t know it could—this is—different.

A motel. Corn-themed. "Real original, huh?" Dean says, under his breath, but he gets them a room, and when they’re inside with two queens and steady A/C and the shades pulled, leaving them in privacy, he drops his bag on the closer bed and looks at Sam sidelong and says, "I’m gonna shower first, ‘kay."

The bathroom door closes before Sam can say a thing. He blows out the breath stuck in his chest and sticks out the Privacy Please tag, and then he sits on the end of the bed he guesses is his, and looks at the bathroom where the shower’s hissed on, the pipes clanking inside the walls.

Not so—obvious, usually. They’ve only been—it’s been like this, between them, for—what, a few months. Barely. Since Dad, and the brutal weeks after it, and a weird raw conversation in pre-dawn light that led to Sam putting his hand on Dean’s face and Dean snarling and then practically shoving him onto his back, and—

It’s new. Dean seems to seesaw back and forth between pretending like it doesn't exist, in the light of day, and a raw grasping want that kind of scares Sam, even if it's maybe the hottest thing that's ever happened to him. No one he's ever been with has wanted him this much. He's never wanted it this much.

He washes his face in the sink. When he pushes the damp edges of his hair back he looks—okay. A little tired, but decent. His head does hurt, actually, where Tracy tried to brain him. Where she was forced to.

Sam closes his eyes. Jesus, he is tired. And—pissed off, too. When he thinks about it. Freaks, all of them, and Sam's got the visions and the migraines and this horrible feeling in his gut like something's gonna happen, some tidal wave of shit that's going to crest the horizon, and he's not going to be able to do a damn thing about it.

Andy, and Ansem. Speaking their wants into reality. Max Miller, moving things with his mind. Sam, and his dreams, and it wouldn't have to be bad. Except it always ends up bad. Death, somehow waiting, and he strips off his jacket and his boots and crawls onto the nearer bed, and buries his face into the pillow, and tries to listen to the steady familiar sound of the shower going and tries not to think about that dark wave. Drawing nearer, cresting.

*

A honk wakes him up. He blinks, drags in muffled air. When he turns over Dean's sitting on his bed, frowning at the curtains. "Just 'cause you can't drive," he mutters, and then looks back down at Sam. "Oh, finally."

Sam drags a hand over his face. No drool, that's something. He yawns, stretching out on the bed. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Dean says. He points the remote and Sam sees the TV on, muted, a newscast—and off, just as fast. Politer than Dean usually is.

"Should've woken me up," Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes and says, "You need all the beauty sleep you can get," and Sam smiles, can't help it, and he goes to sit up but Dean puts a hand on his shoulder and he stays put. Surprised a little. Dean, looking at him.

"Sammy," Dean says. He's tipped in toward Sam, in a t-shirt and boxers, and the look he's giving Sam is steady, considering. "You didn't have any crazy dreams, right? No big visions?"

Sam blinks. "No."

"No," Dean repeats. "So we don't have to light out of here and haul ass to, like, Weehawken or something?"

"What?" Sam says. "No. Weehawken?"

Dean shrugs. "Tried to think of somewhere that'd suck." He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, looking at Sam, and then throws a leg over Sam's and settles himself in Sam's lap, just like that. Sam grabs his hips, startled instinct, while Dean shifts and his ass sits warm and heavy against Sam's dick. "So. Want to screw?"

Jesus. "How romantic," Sam says, but his mouth's dry. Light of day, just straight-out like that. Yeah, this is new. Dean pops his eyebrows, grins in that goofy way where he's trying to be funny or sexy or something, but for Sam it just reminds him how this is—them, the two of them together like this despite all sense or reason, and his stomach flips like encountering some new nasty thing but it's just—Dean. He gets a steady look, that grin going smaller, and then Dean leans down over him and braces his hand on Sam's pec to balance and kisses him like it's his right to do it, plush and immediately wet, his mouth like something—like a dream—

Sam pushes up on an elbow, kisses back. Dean tastes like toothpaste. His stomach, warm and soft under the warm soft t-shirt, and when Sam squeezes his ass with his good hand Dean makes a little noise into his mouth, tips his hips down. Hard already, pressing into Sam's stomach, like he was waiting maybe, like maybe he'd been fooling with himself hoping Sam would wake up. Sam bites his lip because it turns out Dean likes that, even if he bitches after, and he dips and kisses Dean's throat because it turns out Dean likes that, all his vampire comments notwithstanding, and Dean cups the back of Sam's head and digs his fingers into Sam's hair and Sam flips them over, easy reversal of their weight with Dean's thighs splayed out around his hips, and Dean says fuck under his breath when Sam tugs his shirt-collar down and bites at him there, but his chest pushes up into it like a chick wanting her tits played with, so that's clearly okay. "Vampire," Dean says, predictable already, and Sam grins and then sucks there, slicking his tongue against the little dents of his teeth. Dean's hips kick up and his thighs squeeze Sam's hips, but he groans too, and says, "Moving me around. You're such a control freak."

Their hips grind together. Even through his jeans it feels incredible, his dick chubbed up to match Dean's. "Like you mind," Sam says, even if he can feel the heat rushing up into his face to say it, flat-out like that. When he picks his head up Dean's eyes are heavy, his ears that bright red they always are when he's turned on, and Sam licks his lips and watches Dean's attention drop to them. Jesus. "You want me to stop?"

"Didn't say that." He tugs at Sam's arm and Sam lifts up, kisses him open, and Dean's leg slides against his, his hands framing Sam's waist, dragging up his back. When Sam pulls back to breathe Dean's lips are puffed-wet, red as his ears, and he's—fuck, he's hot. Sam drags a thumb over his cheek, swipes the wet off his lower lip, and Dean smiles a little. Like he knows what Sam's thinking. "Just saying. You gotta be in charge, huh? Never would've guessed, Sammy." He catches Sam's wrist and fake-whispers, like a shared secret: "That was sarcasm."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, you're hilarious." He braces his cast on the bed, tugs out of Dean's grip and slides his hand down to grip Dean's dick. So close it's easy to watch Dean's eyes go a little wide, his lips parting. "You wanna shut up now?"

Dean's thigh slides against his hip. "Make me." Sam squeezes and Dean sighs out hot against his face. He blinks then, a flash of smile. "Hey, maybe you could. Use that mojo."

Sam doesn't understand for a second. He pushes up higher on his elbow, frowns.

"Get me to do whatever you want, huh?" Dean's cheeks are very red. "No control issues then. What Sammy says goes."

With his dick this hard Sam doesn't know how to react. "Dean," he says, helplessly—some mix of turned on, of pissed off. Like Sam could be like—like he could be Andy. Ansem. Some nasty magic, getting Dean to do anything. "I wouldn't."

Dean licks the point of one canine, eyes on Sam's mouth. It's not picking a fight because he's so obviously hot for it that Sam's body reacts like a strange compulsion, stretching out over his brother, pinning him down. He rocks his hips into Dean's, pins one of Dean's arms down by the wrist, and Dean groans, arches into it. "I know you wouldn't," he says, rough. Sam leans back, his stomach flipping uncertainly, and Dean grabs his neck, arches up, wild and intense and amazing like Dean always is in bed—wholly present, wholly wanting, like no one else ever has been. Everyone is always thinking about something else, always holding a little apart. Not Dean—Dean's here, pressing his dick up against Sam's dick, holding Sam close, leaning up and kissing Sam's jaw where he hasn't shaved in a day, breathing hot against his ear, saying tight and sweet, "Tell me, though—tell me, what you'd make me do—what you'd say, Sammy, tell me—"

—and Sam says, coming up from some deep place, "I'd tell you I was gonna fuck you," and Dean groans like Sam punched him in the solar plexus—a deep short breathless grunt, breaking Sam's grip to grab his hips, his ass, hauling him in like Sam's already inches deep. Jesus, jesus, Dean wants it, even here in this little dump of a motel room at three in the afternoon, the light coming in muffled through the blinds. Vivid even in the muted grey, Dean's eyes visible and his mouth wide and his face an open book, a crazy thing. No secrets, anymore, Sam's sure of it. Sam grabs his face, dips his thumb between Dean's lips. "Jesus, Dean—yeah, I'm gonna fuck you. You're gonna let me. Aren't you."

"Yeah," Dean says, deep and ready, and Sam kneels up, drags Dean's boxers down and watches his dick slap up against his stomach, and he rips his jeans open one-handed, feeling wild. Feeling powerful, and right, especially with how Dean's eyes drop immediately to see him get his dick out and his mouth works like he wishes Sam would just feed it in, like he wants it there, wants it bad, wants it—wants Sam—

"You're gonna open right up for me, aren't you?" Sam says, lightheaded almost, and Dean nods dumbly and spreads, grabs one leg up by the back of his knee so Sam can burrow fingers down into the dark place between them—soft a little, damp a little, and when he looks up into Dean's face Dean's bright fuckin red like he knows exactly what Sam's thinking, like he knew what Sam was gonna ask for. Sam spits on two fingers and feeds them in and finds Dean—open, kinda wet, and Dean says—"There was—the conditioner, in the shower—" and Sam groans wild because it's like magic, like some wished-for thing, like he's Andy and he said to Dean open yourself up for me and Dean willed himself fuckable. He feeds himself inside, inch after inch, and Dean's face flinches and his eyes squeeze tight but he's rearing up, gripping into Sam's shirt, his legs wrapping around Sam's waist, lifting off the bed practically with how he's trying to shove Sam deeper, gasping for more than Sam can give.

Sam gets his cast bolstered under the small of Dean's back, keeps his weight tipped up into the perfect place for Sam to grind into. It's not wet enough and Dean's not loose enough but it feels outrageous, and Dean's panting for it, pulling at Sam's shirt hard enough that a button pops. "Fuck, you can hold me up, huh?" Dean says, shuddery, and Sam presses up on his good arm enough that Dean really does go airborne, the strain intense but worth it for the noise Dean makes when Sam's dick jolts inside him at the new angle. Dean's face presses against Sam's, his nose bumping Sam's ear and his mouth wet at Sam's jaw, and Sam curls his hips in these short shallow pumps that wouldn't usually do it for him except that Dean's so wrapped-up close that he can feel every shaking thing it's doing, the insanity of what he can make his brother feel.

That he can make him feel—Sam groans, sits back, and Dean's clinging to him so tight he gets hauled upright and his ass shoves down on Sam's dick through sheer gravity, enough to make him tip his head back on his shoulders and groan out loud. Sam keeps him in place, holding his hips steady, and shoves up, up, watching Dean's throat go bright red, kissing there when he can't stand not to, anymore. Dean's thighs squeeze his sides and his dick's rubbing all over Sam's shirt and he gets both hands in Sam's hair, keeping him in place, and Sam's biting and fucking up and keeping both their balance and so it's a surprise, sort of, when Dean says nearly breathless against the top of his ear, "Tell me—Sammy, tell me something else, tell me what you want me to do."

Fuck. Sam bites Dean's collarbone hard enough that Dean yelps, squirms and yanks at Sam's hair to get him to pull back, and both feel so good that Sam just sucks harder before he lets go. When he tips his head up Dean's looking at him, red-faced and glassy-eyed, and Sam says without thinking much about it, "I'm gonna come in you, and then I want to eat it out. You're gonna let me." Dean's jaw drops further and Sam actually feels the spasm around the root of his dick, Dean's whole body clenching. Anticipation, he's pretty sure. Sam hasn't—they haven't done that, yet, but now it's all he wants, and he knows Dean will practically cry for it. Sam smiles at him, a weird sort of power filling up his chest, watching how his working dick makes Dean feel. "Later, too. If I want you to blow me. Tonight. Or at a rest stop—shit, parked out where someone might see, Dean. You'll do it, won't you?"

Dean groans, when Sam pushes up into him hard, keeping his hips held tight against Sam's so that he's full. The way Sam's learning he likes to be. "All right, Sammy," Dean says, soft, and Sam—fuck, he can't, he can't wait anymore, and he bears Dean back onto the mattress and lets his head bounce, and when he shoves in at just the right angle Dean shouts at the ceiling and then Sam's free to just—fuck him, to get his dick inside that hot friction where Dean's so ready for him, where he wants it because he—because he wants what Sam wants. Something Sam didn't get, when they first started this up, and it was rough and unspoken and awkward in the night. Everything he tried, something Dean just accepted and built higher, and when they kissed for the first time that wasn't like fighting it was something that—that Sam doesn't—god Dean feels good, and he's moaning against Sam's temple like he's getting some kind of dick-based religion, and Sam grips his hips and slams in without care or finesse and when he comes it's brutal, some unloading from the base of his spine, and he says—something—but his ears are roaring and his hips are flexing deep and Dean's nails are digging so hard into his back under his shirts that it hurts but even that feels good, at that second, the world aligning for a half-moment into being for fucking once in Sam's life—right.

He barely holds himself up, breathing hard into Dean's throat. Dean's still twitching, his dick like iron against Sam's stomach. He rocks against Sam, churning Sam's dick inside him where it's still hard, and they groan together, feeling it, but Dean groans louder when Sam slips out. They've fucked like this—a handful, two handfuls, of times, and they've swapped back and forth but Sam's only felt insane this way when he was on top, when he was in charge. With his body still ringing like a struck gong he licks his lips and then bites Dean's throat very deliberately, just below the amulet cord, hard enough that it'll leave a mark, and only when Dean's hissing does Sam think to ask—but. But he doesn't have to ask.

He releases his jaw, stretches it. Licks, against the hurt mark, and then crawls down the bed, kisses Dean's pec and his nipple and his soft belly and his hip, and brushes his cheek stubble and all against Dean's straining dick and feels Dean's thighs jump around his shoulders. When he looks up Dean's watching him, head off-center on a pillow and his eyes slitted, dark. "What am I going to do now?" Sam says.

Dean licks his lower lip. "You—" He swallows. "What you said."

"Yeah," Sam says, and pushes Dean's thighs up in time to watch his sore-fucked rosy asshole flex and drip, a runnel of white that Sam dips and collects with his tongue—salt, and bitter, but good enough that Sam's bones shiver in his skin. He laps across Dean's asshole and feels it so hot and soft, and Dean moans rich enough up above that Sam's own dick twitches, caught in a semi between his hip and the bed. He licks deeper, his tongue almost dipping inside, and then hooks two fingers in easy on the wet he left behind, and Dean cries out but only spreads wider, fisting himself and letting Sam do—whatever he wants, whatever he needs, because Dean is—because Sam is—

Dean comes quieter than Sam expects, every time. His whole body freezes for a second and then he makes this deep sound in his chest, in his throat, arching toward Sam like for comfort, almost. Almost. Sam licks him through it and then lifts up, holding his fingers tight up where he'd buried them, watching Dean's face while the last of it spurts from his dick, while he slowly, slowly relaxes into the bed.

It's—god. Afternoon. Why is that what Sam thinks, but it's what he thinks. Afternoon and the sound of a semi roaring to life in the parking lot, and Ellen waiting a few hours north of here, and the world resettling into something that has to be dealt with. Sam works his jaw, lets his fingers slip out when Dean spasms around them. He doesn't—he doesn't regret this, ever, not since that first time when they both had to take a minute—but he feels… He swallows, and sits back on his knees. Jesus, he's still dressed. Jeans and button-down and socks, sweat and worse griming him up. He zips up, feeling weird.

Dean rubs a hand up his stomach, smearing his own jizz over his belly and undershirt. His amulet's swung around on his neck, laying against the pillow. "Dude, that was sick," he says, but in a way that's weirdly admiring. Sam licks his lips, the remaining afterglow twisting in his belly. Dean lets his heels slip down the bed, his legs splayed around Sam, and he's red-faced still, but maybe that's just because they're both so—out there. Exposed. Even so, Dean touches his knee against Sam's hip, the corner of his mouth turned up. "Seriously. You're like a freight train when you get going, you know that?"

Sam swallows. Thick aftertaste in his mouth. "Shut up," he says, and finally goes for the buttons on his shirt. Jeez, Dean really did rip one off—Sam'll have to hunt for it on the carpet or wherever. He likes this shirt, it doesn't deserve to get ruined by—this.

"Hey, did you hear me complaining?"

Sam keeps unbuttoning, wrestles the shirt off his sweaty arms. He's gonna need a shower before they go anywhere.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam swings a leg over, goes to get off the bed. Shower, and clean clothes, and maybe they won't be late enough that Ellen asks questions—"Hey!"

Sam's forearm is grabbed before he can get away and Dean tugs hard enough that Sam'll have to wrench something to get away. He pauses, still on one knee on the bed, and when he looks Dean's up on one elbow, still naked from the waist down, frowning at him. "What," Sam says.

"What." Dean squints at him, and he's not blushed up anymore, not turned on. Looking at Sam like he wishes he could peel back Sam's skull and see what he's thinking, but Dean's never been good at that, really. Sam wishes he were, sometimes. All his life he'd wished for some kind of privacy, but then when he got it everything just ended up—worse. When it mattered Dean couldn't see him, see what counted, and now, with what's happening—

"Come back here," Dean says, firm, but his tug on Sam's arm is gentle as anything. Sam sits, half-on the bed with his hip tucked up against Dean's hip, and Dean's still looking at him with that intense so-thoughtful look, and it's—it's killing Sam, kind of, deep in his gut, that Dean doesn't know, that he can't know, that Sam's by himself here even when like five minutes ago they were about as close as Sam's ever been, will ever be, to anyone.

"You're wigging out," Dean says, after a few beats of silence, and Sam snorts and says, "Yeah, that’s me," and maybe it's bitter and too much and too weird but Sam doesn't know any other way to be, now, but Dean sighs and says, "Fuck, Sammy," kinda quiet. He reaches up and gets Sam by the neck and tugs him down, down, until there's no choice really but to kiss, and Dean opens up soft and wide and easy like they've been doing this for years, like he knows exactly what Sam needs. Sam gets a hand on his jaw, holds his face. His lips a little chapped, toothmarks on the inside like he was biting himself before to stay quiet, and when they stop Sam leans his forehead against Dean's, lets their noses brush together, breathes his air. Dean runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam's head, a slow carding pull. Sam sighs.

"I don't know if I need to give you like a signed customer satisfaction survey," Dean says, in his normal voice, "but that was good. For me."

Sam's eyelids squeeze tight without him even meaning to. Purplish sparky bursts against the darkness.

"Hey," Dean says, and pushes him back an inch. Sam doesn't open his eyes, just lets Dean move him, and feels Dean's hand on his throat, his thumb braced right over Sam's pulse. "Seriously. If it's too weird, or—or if you don't—damn, Sam, I know you want it. Talking like that. And I'm obviously good with it too, I just practically came my brains out. So don't let it be weird, okay. It's just you and me."

"Like that's not weird?" Sam says, weirdly croaky and feeling how his voice vibrates against Dean's grip. When he looks again Dean's face is striped with the light from the blinds, the sun dipping just enough. A band of shadow across his eyes, a band of greyed-out yellow across his nose, showing the freckles he pretends he doesn't mind. Sam pushes further up and Dean lets him go, frowning at him while Sam picks the amulet off the pillow, resettles it into its place over Dean's sternum. He fiddles with it, avoiding Dean's eyes. Sharp little horns pricking his thumb. How haven't they blunted, he wonders, after all this time. He presses his thumb harder into one, letting it hurt, and watches his hand rather than look at Dean's face. "I don't know, man. I'm just—that stuff last night, it's not—it's bad. I don't want that. The power. The dreams are bad enough, you know?"

Dean gets a grip in Sam's t-shirt—loose, but enough that if he held fast Sam probably couldn't get away. "If you hadn't had 'em we wouldn't have gotten there," Dean says. "Tracy probably would've died."

"Ansem might've lived," Sam says back, and Dean makes a tch sound, not very under his breath. Sam sucks the inside of his cheek, that sore spot. Still sore. Dean's better at this, Sam thinks. This calculation. Who deserves to live and who deserves to die. Who's good and who's not. Tracy for Ansem, Sam thinks, but Andy still murdered someone. Bullet to the brain, and now who's a monster.

"Sorry," Dean says, and for that Sam does look up, frowning. There's a glimpse of white teeth as Dean worries at one corner of his lip. "I guess it's not really a—I wasn't trying to make like it's not a big deal."

Sam shrugs. "Scares you, doesn't it?" Dean blinks, expression tightening. "You said. Freaks me out, too. I don't think anybody here's saying it's not a big deal." Sam lets the amulet go, rubs the pad of his thumb to feel the deep dents he's made. They look like holes in him. "It just—first it was Max and now Andy. It goes wrong every time."

Dean sits up, fast. "We don't know that," he says, more intense than he really ought to be when he's half-naked. "Sammy. We're not gonna let it go that way, okay? You and me. We can handle it."

He gets his hand on the turn of Sam's jaw, makes Sam look at him, and Sam does because it's not like looking at Dean's a hardship. He tries a smile and Dean nods, like Sam's agreeing to something. He really can't read Sam's mind. Sam wonders if that's something he'll be able to do, soon, coming down the pipe of this shitty year, but before he can tug away at that miserable thought Dean's leaned in and is kissing him, again. Soft, coaxing when Sam's stiff, and he puts one hand solid on Sam's chest, grounding and warm. Sam sighs, leans into it. It's nice, and he might as well let Dean have something.

"Better," Dean says, quiet, when they pull apart, and Sam nods even if it wasn't a question. He's let his hand fall onto Dean's bare thigh and he squeezes the muscle there, trying to say—he doesn't even know what. Dean kisses him again, quick, and then lifts his eyebrows. "You still going to make me blow you at a rest stop? That's nasty, man."

Sam huffs and Dean grins, even if it's small. "Don't need magic powers to know you're easy," Sam says, and even if it feels like an effort he manages to make it sound light.

"Damn right I am," Dean says, and Sam smiles and says, "Okay, okay, I'm taking a shower," and lets Dean pat his chest before he closes himself into the little room, fluorescents and yellow tile, bright and just a little dingy.

Andy said Tracy was scared of him. Sam believes it. He saw her face, this morning in the ambulance. That dim horror. Dean's not there. Scared of the situation, about what might happen, but he's not afraid of Sam, yet. Sam tips his head back against the door, imagining it. Taking Dean's hand and pitching his voice a certain way—that weird tone that he'd heard in Andy's voice but which hadn't affected him—and saying kiss me, and Dean going soft and easy and smiling, and doing it, no questions asked. Doing other things, just because Sam asked.

His stomach turns hard enough that for a second he really thinks he's going to puke. Hits different than it did when his dick was doing the thinking. The things he could do, with that power—he's lucky that it's just the dreams he has to worry about. Although—back with Max—there was that wardrobe, that he moved—

"Hey, get a move on," Dean says, muffled through the door. Sam opens his eyes, shocked back to the moment. "We get cleaned up and out of here, I only got to pay for a half day, and we've got to get up to the Roadhouse by tonight."

"You're the one who wanted a break," Sam says, and Dean says, quieter, yeah, yeah. Sam's breathing hard, remembering. That wardrobe. It came out of Sam like a punch, pure instinct, but—Sam's learned how to do a lot harder things than to throw a punch.

He strips out of his clothes, turns on the shower. Hot. Runs his hand under the water, waiting for it heat up, and thinks that, in the right circumstances, anyone can be pushed.

"Sam, seriously!" Dean calls out.

Sam folds his hand into a fist, hard enough that he feels the tendons strain. They're not going to let anything happen. He might have to ask Dean to swear that's true. For now, his skin's crawling, but that's okay. He gets in the shower. They have road to cover, before the day's done.

[bittybattybunny]

I would like the familiar AU snippet, also I'd be all ears (eyes?) if you say "guys I got an AU" but take things your way and pace

hehehe I love this snippet and I’m PRETTY SURE I haven’t posted it. I checked my blog didn’t see it

Snippet timeeee~!

The little dragon squeaked as she reached for her bag. He hopped from his spot on her computer tower and pawed at her, grabbing her sleeve in his mouth growling.

“What?” she huffed, “Do you want to go hunting?” She sighed and moved to get up. She shifted her dragon to her shoulders as she left her station, “Be right back, my familiar wants to go hunting.”

One of her coworkers waved to acknowledge she was heard and she nodded, “Okay Snatcher, let’s go.” she giggled heading towards the door. Once outside she let him jump off her shoulder and fly in the air, vanishing around the building. 

She gave a sigh as she moved to head back inside to work when her wrist was grabbed. She turned to meet bright gold eyes as the young man panted and brushed his dark hair back.

“Hey!” he laughed, trying to catch his breath, “You aren’t going to skip lunch again are you?” he frowned. “A smooshed granola bar doesn’t count.”

She turned pink in embarrassment. She rubbed her neck as he gave a small laugh. She pouted, “Did you see Snatcher again?” she frowned.

He smirked, “I did.” he let go of her hand and gestured, “Want to get lunch at the cafe with me?”

She huffed and put her hands on her stomach in thought, she looked at the young man and sighed, “let me go clock out properly.” 

“Yes!” he beamed making her laugh. She ran inside and grabbed her bag heading back to meet him.

“You know your timing is far too good. You always know the days I forget lunch at home.” she snickered.

He winked at her, “I’m invested… but not in a creepy way.” 

She laughed, “I doubt that you’re invested. But I appreciate the company.” she held his arm as they crossed the street to the small restaurant.

“I always love your company, Eclipse.” he smiled softly as they headed inside, “More than you know.”

She looked at him and rolled her eyes before giving a grin and laughing. “I don’t know, Ru.” she sighed, “I think you just like shooting the shit with my familiar and teasing!”

He gave a shrug before he started to laugh. “I just like you, Eclipse. I just hope you see that.”

She sighed and pat his back as she went to look at the menu with a frown, “Hrm.”

“They have that teriyaki chicken salad you like.” he pointed to the specials menu.

“Do they?!” her eyes sparkled and she grinned, “Ahhh~! Lucky day~!” she grinned as she got to the counter, “Oh they have matcha too! I’ll have a medium vanilla matcha latte and a large teriyaki chicken salad with ranch please!” she ordered.

“I’ll have a black coffee, extra-large. And a chicken parm sandwich please,” he ordered and pulled his wallet out.

“Hey! Don’t be sneaky!” she gasped as he paid. She frowned, scrunching her nose up, “Arulius!” she hissed.

He stuck his forked tongue out at her and snickered, “too slow, Eclipse.” he teased her and smiled as he signed the receipt. He brushed his hair behind his ear as he stood back up. He shoved the receipt away and moved over towards the pickup side of the counter.

She rolled her eyes and bumped him, “let me pay one of these days!”

“I asked you to lunch, so my treat.” he winked. He smiled at her as she leaned on him. He moved to wrap his arms around her---

“Order! Arulius and Eclipse?”

“Shoot,” he grumbled, red in the face. He moved to grab his order as she grabbed hers. He moved towards a window seat and sat down.

Eclipse took the seat across from him and opened her salad to dump the dressing on and smiled, “thanks for lunch~!” she sang as she started to eat.

He grinned as he grabbed his food and ate, but he really was watching her. He snickered and took a napkin and reached over, wiping her cheek. She turned pink as she looked away.

“So how’s work today?” he smiled, “Having fun with miss winters as always?”

“Ugh. don’t get me started!” she huffed, “she thinks she’s sooooo great because her familiar is a snow leopard. She called my little snatcher a fat ferret! FERRET!” she gasped.

He snorted, “he is NOT a ferret. Nor is he fat.” he puffed his cheek up annoyed, “he’s going to bite her one day if she keeps that up. It’s just baby chub. Power saving…”

“Exactly!” Eclipse grinned, “He’s perfect as he is!”

He turned a bit red as he ate, “is he now?”

“Yes!” she grinned, “he’s my chubby little dragon baby. Even if most don’t believe he’s a dragon.” she sighed.

“He’s a dragon. I believe you.” Arulius smiled as he leaned on his hand.

“I know you do!” she laughed, “Mr. Familiar whisperer!” she pouted, “I wish I understood what he says like you do, and I’m his partner!”

He frowned as he bit into his food and chewed quietly, “I’m sure you can someday. It’s just. Not easy.” he sighed as he sipped his coffee. “I can’t wait until you can hear him.”

“Same. Though I think I’m pretty good at deciphering him!” she giggled, “I love him!’

He jolted and covered his face in an attempt to hide his red tone, “D-Don’t just say that!” his voice cracked.

“But I do~! I love my familiar! He’s my best friend ever! He’s adorable and makes the cutest little sleepy squish face and he purrs an--- Arulius are you okay?”

“F-Fine!” he squeaked as he kept his face hidden from her. He flinched when she reached over to brush his hair back, her hand pressed to his forehead.

“You aren’t too warm.” she frowned. She gasped as he took her hand and kissed it.

“Arulius!” she gasped as she laughed.

He snickered, “you handed it over~!” he tried to get his face to stop being red as he returned to his food and sighed, “Lunch break is almost gone.”

“Aw shoot!” she started to hammer her salad and checked her phone, “I hope Snatcher doesn’t show up when I’m not there.”

“I don’t think he’ll show until we leave.” the young man chuckled as he reached to take her trash and got up. He finished his coffee and offered her his hand. She took it and grabbed her latte as they headed back towards her office and she sighed content.

“Thanks again for lunch, Arulius! Next time let me treat!”

“Alright, next time, you treat.” he smiled as he moved to walk off. He waved and ducked around the corner.

Eclipse sighed moving to head back inside, stopping when she heard squeaking as her dragon returned. He flopped onto her shoulders and she chuckled poking his nose.

“Have a good hunt?” she asked as she went to clock back in. He nodded and nuzzled her happily. His golden eyes sparkling.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Anything for you

For anon who asked: Not a prompt. well kinda. pls THINK about gibby and the "you want me to wear that?" line. like, my heart can't take it. he'd be so cute in lingerie or fishnets or even just a string, maybe heels. all blushy, trying to hide but getting flustered when you tell him how good and cute he looks

Oops I made this a full fic!!!! Tysm for suggesting Gibraltar bc I’m in LOVE with him!!!

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog if you like it :D

Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Gibraltar/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral/gender ambiguous, fluff, lingerie, Gibraltar likes being called pretty and has a praise kink, just very fluffy and soft nothing too bad just explicit!!!

Words: 1.8k

____________

Makoa Gibraltar was a romantic at heart.

It wasn’t hard to fall for him- c'mon, just look at him. Built like a real-life giant teddy bear with a kind smile and a contagious laugh. You’d met because you were one of the lead medics on standby in the medical bay for when legends would fall, or when they would become champion and need to limp their way back. You were specialized in both the robotics and the flesh that came through here, so you were scheduled to work quite frequently when a season was going on.

More than once you’d serviced him. Checking his vitals and going through the motions. Normally he’d crack jokes to you, ask how you were doing, all while he ignored the likely searing pain in his body. Sometimes he’d wince, but then beam up at you, dimples and all and go, “Ey, ain’t nothin’ I ain’t had worse of. You’ll fix me right up, right, doc?” And he always said it like he trusted everything in you and your heart would pound, you’d flush, and try to come up with something back.

You should have realized he’d been flirting. You should have realized it long before he’d asked you out all whilst rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling that maybe in the med-bay wasn’t the most ROMANTIC area to ask you out, but he couldn’t catch you off work.

You’d been so startled trying to catch what he had said that once your brain caught up, you’d finally shouted ‘yes’ a bit too loudly and enthusiastically. But, at least it made him laugh?

~Rest under the cut~

Now you were six months strong and found yourself watching the screens with more nervousness when Makoa was in the arena. You knew death didn’t happen in the arena, no, but the pain and fear were just as real. Yet, he was always so kind, big smiles and enthusiasm. One time when he’d been champion, he’d blown a kiss at the camera and said it had been for you. You hadn’t been able to talk straight for an hour.

Such a sweetheart.

Some days he was Makoa Gibraltar, Apex Legend, Apex champion, a face to be seen on a screen and to be admired.  

And some days? Some days he was just Makoa. Your boyfriend who liked to hog the blankets and squeeze you tight in the morning so you’d whine about having to go pee and laugh at you as you tried to squirm away.

Today? Today he was Makoa.

“You want me to...to wear that?”

You beam brightly, nodding your head enthusiastically as you look over at the outfit you’d lain out on a chair. Said outfit he was looking at couldn’t even count as an outfit. It was a soft baby pink baby doll, a split right beneath the chest to fan out in gorgeous lace. It came with a thong, one you’re sure wouldn’t hold him and the idea made you want to drool. You’d also lain out white fishnets and four-inch black stilettos.

“You said you wanted to get more in touch with your feminine side,” You gleefully state, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and hardly being able to lock your fingers together around him. You nose just below his shoulders where you can reach, giving him a squeeze. “Besides, you said you wanted to try wearing this sorta thing, why not start now? It’s in your size- isn't it preeeetty?”

“Ya must be the devil, baby.” Makoa laughs, causing your body to vibrate with the motion. He sounds embarrassed, and you just know his face is flushed and burning red.  

“Sooo...is that a yes?”

“For you, my love? Anything.”

--

You left your home for a little due to a call for work just to do a check up on Pathfinder’s processors. Not a problem, you lived close to the compound and it wasn’t anything difficult to walk to and from. Pathfinder is as chipper and thankful as ever, mentioning something about overheating but you’d checked his processors and they were all good to go. You offered for him to maybe lay off any activities that may be causing him to heat up, accepting his thumbs up of approval, and went on your way.

When you came home, the smell of Makoa’s shampoo was the first thing that hits you. He’d obviously had a shower a little bit ago when the warmth and humidity rolling out of the bathroom hits you as you pass it. And once you enter your bedroom, you figure out why. Not that, of course, you couldn’t take the hint but...

The outfit fit him perfectly. Right down to the heels. Makoa is sat on the edge of the bed, one powerful leg over the other, hands folded in his lap and face flushed red. His hair is down, showing the few streaks of gray from where he’d pulled his wavy hair over to one side to let it frame his face beautifully. His skin is still glowing from his shower, his tattoos all on display and making you bite your bottom lip.

“You look beautiful, baby.” You breathe out, dropping your bag on the floor next to the door and kicking off your socks and shoes. You pad over to where he is, watching him peek up from where he’d been looking at his lap and he offers you one of those award-winning smiles. Though it’s a bit crooked as if he’s shy.

“Can you stand up and do a twirl?” You playfully speak once you’re close enough, gently resting a hand over his thigh and leaning in to get a peek at his face. Immediately Makoa laughs, hands unfolding so he can cup your face adoringly between both of his warmed hands.

“Now ya just being selfish.” He playfully responds back, bringing you closer until his full lips can cover your own. You’re both smiling into the kiss, your nails lightly pressing to his thigh as you stand on your tiptoes to get a better angle for him.

Once you part, you bop your nose affectionately to his with a small laugh, “Aw, c’mon, didn’t you just say earlier that I could have anything?”

The reminder makes his eyes open, deep pools of brown that narrow playfully at his own words being twisted. You offer a grin in turn, bouncing your eyebrows twice to effectively make him laugh and shoo you back and offering you his seat.

You plop onto the bed like an excited child. Smiling brightly up at him as he stands in front of you, four inches taller than he normally is and near marking him at 7 foot. You don’t mask your attraction nor excitement as you bite your bottom lip, hands in your lap and practically bouncing in place.

You eagerly make a ‘go ahead’ motion with your head and that makes Makoa chuckle, rolling his eyes dramatically at you before doing a spin for you. He even goes so far as to grab the chair you’d had resting in the middle of your room where you most certainly did not have it JUST to put the clean clothed you didn’t want to fold into.

Okay maybe, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was now he’s bent over. Bent completely over, grasping the edge of the chair, legs splayed a bit, and showing you all his features. How his ass looks in the fishnets and thong, you’re right about the thong not being able to hold him, but seems the fishnets were doing a pretty good job in helping secure his cock to his body. His powerful, long legs look ever the more defined in heels and oh how his soft, muscular padding looked in the baby doll from the front was already beautiful, but now you get to see the strength in his arms flex from behind.

“Oh, Makoa...” You breathe out again, letting your eyes rake over his form and a whine blossoming from your throat. “Oh, this was such a good idea.”

You watch his shoulders shake briefly with a quiet laugh, only to watch them seize up when you shift off the bed. You let your hands wander down over his thick ass, squeezing appreciatively at his thighs and sliding one hand between his legs to cup at the bulge in his thong.

Makoa’s breath wavers, head falling forward and a small shake added to his body. You coo about how pretty he is again as you let both hands come up to grab at the top of his tights, rolling them down his ass with his thong and groaning at the sight of him.

Hearing his breath pick up as you slide your hands back between his thighs, you gently pat and make him spread his legs wider. His cock hangs between his legs, a thick girth rivaling your wrist. He’s a good seven inches and half chubbed up right now, he’s proportional to his body with his hair kept trimmed in this area. His balls are a good handful, heavy in your palm where you gently squeeze and roll them now just to hear him choke out a sound.

Your mouth waters at the sight of his ass. The flush of his hole makes you want to lick and suck and kiss and make him whine about how embarrassing it was for you to touch there. You bite your lip at the thought, tempted to, but you save the thought for later.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” You murmur again, dropping to your knees with a dull thud behind him so you can roll his tights down a little more to really get a good look at him. You sigh at the way his cock jerks at the praise, running a finger along the underside just to watch it lazily jerk again.

Makoa shudders, hanging his head. His voice is tight when he finally speaks, just as you wrap a loose hand around his cock. “N-not that I don’t like being-” He pauses to take a sharp breath in when you hum happily, swiping a thumb over the drooling head to smear the bead of precum. “-expo—exposed for you like this but the heels are a little-”

His voice shakes again when your other hand cups his balls, gently squeezing and distracting him. From behind him, you grin deviously, but you press a kiss to the back of his thigh. ”You wanna sit down instead?”

He immediately nods, making you release him and helping him get out of his heels, undoing the strap around his ankle and pulling it off each foot before guiding him to sit down on the bed.

You scoot on your knees to rest between his splayed out thighs. Watching Makoa’s fingers flex on his thighs and smiling as you lean up to nuzzle at his inner thigh, helping him pull off his tights and thong so he’d stay in just his baby doll.

“Just relax and let me take care of you tonight, sweetheart.” You murmur.

A tease of a grin edges his lips, fluttering his lashes.

“Anything for you, my love.”

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Oh, oh, can I please have Caspar + 🐷?

Being a general in the imperial army had its ups and downs.

There was a lot of responsibility involved, of course, and Caspar found that quite a lot of it felt like red tape to slow down doing actual good. He wanted to get out there and do what was right for the people, but – apparently – there were rules about that, and him charging in recklessly to do what he thought was right wasn’t what he should be doing. Edelgard allowed him some slack with things, but many grumbled about his attitude and style of handling issues.

Caspar didn’t let it stop him much. If he saw people being wronged, he jumped to their defense. If he could protect someone in a battle, he’d do so – rank be damned! He wasn’t the sort to sit back and watch others do the work for him.

It was because of this that he had rode out to a remote village, word having reached his ears that a powerful magic user had stormed in and taken over the place. People were scared, but they couldn’t get away with this sorcerer practically holding them hostage as he did whatever he pleased in their little town. It wasn’t a big enough issue for the empire to devote its attention to, or so he’d been told when he brought it up, but Caspar wasn’t going to let that slide. It was only the one man, so he was confident in his ability to take the sorcerer down easily. He left his unit in his lieutenant’s care until he returned, sure that he would only be gone for a day at best.

As soon as he reached the village, Caspar could tell that things were off.

It was unnaturally quiet, the setting sun making the silent town feel eerie and dark as he moved through it. Ax in hand, ready for anything, the squelch of mud under his boots was the only thing Caspar could hear as he trudged further into the village.

“Show yourself!” he eventually shouted in frustration, knowing he was being watched. “I’m here to free these people, and hiding is only drawing out your punishment longer, you fiend!”

Windows were dark or shuttered in homes, no people in sight – not even any animals.

“You really are a loud thing, aren’t you?”

A shiver ran down Caspar’s spine at the voice – it felt like those words had been spoken directly into his ear – but when he whirled around, there wasn’t anyone there. Growling at how easily he’d been spooked, Caspar resolved his expression into something more fiercely determined.

“Why don’t you say that to my face!” the young man called back, eyes scanning every possible place this mage could be hiding.

“If that’s what you really prefer,” the voice returned, calmly, a face to finally go with it appearing in a flash of warping magic right in front of Caspar.

The light caused Caspar to close his eyes against the abrupt intensity of it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and get a good look at the sorcerer who had been terrorizing this town for some time. His confidence shot up again when he looked the man over. The mage was tall and spindly; thin limbs, boney hands and a gaunt face. He was older, hair thinning and age marring him. A gnarled cane of dark wood was gripped tightly in his hands, and Caspar was sure that a stiff breeze could have knocked the old buzzard onto his ass. There was no way he could lose this.

Of course, without anyone there to rein in his recklessness, Caspar was ignoring the important fact that this old mage had completely taken over a small town without any trouble.

Charging forward, swinging his ax wide, Caspar blinked when the man disappeared like a wisp of smoke – the blade of his weapon hitting nothing but air. He skidded awkwardly in the slick mud, whipping around to try and relocate the mage. The man reappeared as silently as he teleported out of the attack, cheekily waggling his fingers at Caspar.

Taking the bait, Caspar tried again.

And again…and again.

Every single time he came close to landing a blow strong enough to cut the skinny old bastard in half, the sorcerer would simply warp out of harm’s way with a raspy chuckle. It went on like this for a while, Caspar’s energy and stamina starting to fail him after some time, tired legs slipping and sending him face first into the mud; his ax knocked out of his grasp as he fell, skidding through the mud just out of reach.

Panting and sputtering mud out of his mouth, Caspar shoves himself onto his hands and knees, sweating and limbs shaking from fatigue.

“Rolling about in the mud like a hog, are we?” the old man hummed, his foot steps hardly making a sound as he approached. “Quite fitting for a squealing piglet of the empire. Did they not have anyone else to send out here but an obnoxious, arrogant boy?”

Caspar bristled at that, scrambling to get to his feet. “I am a proud general of the empire!” Sure, he was still young and he hadn’t ever hit much of a growth spurt, but that didn’t give this old coot any right to insult him in such a way when he was clearly the evil doer here.

“A proud pig, I see.”

“You’ll regret insulting me–”

The mage waved an age-shaky hand at the younger man, a smug look on his face as he chanted something out in a language Caspar had never heard before. “And you’ll regret ever coming to this little village, Sir Pig,” the old man mused, a wave of magic blasting Caspar off his feet and back into the mud once more.

Caspar groaned, shaking his head and trying to refocus his dizzied vision. He felt so tired, and it was an alarming struggle to keep himself awake, but he managed to sit himself back up and shake off the worst of the sluggishness. Aside from the fatigue, he was fairly certain that whatever magic had been cast at him hadn’t caused him any damage outside of a bruised rear end. Grinning at his luck – for the old man must have simply messed up – he made to jump back to his feet and get right back into the fight, only to stumble in surprise when he felt like he had tried to get up with heavy weights attached to himself.

“W…What the…?” he muttered under his breath, struggling once more to get to his feet. He managed to get onto his knees, but found himself hit with another wave of exhaustion, his breathing heavy and…what in the world, was he snorting?!

Muddy fingers reached up to his nose, Caspar blurting out in shock when they met with the round, flat of his nose – or, what had been his nose. Now, it was more akin to a snout, just like a pig’s. He snuffled exaggeratedly, swallowing thickly against the panic that was threatening to overtake him.

Okay, so what? The old mage could do a few tricks, make him look like a fool, but this could always be reversed, right? It wouldn’t be so bad, especially once he beat the sorcerer and made it back home. They had plenty of skilled magic users in the empire who could probably fix his nose in a matter of seconds. This was just a tactic to get under his skin!

Grunting in anger, Caspar settled a foul look on the far too amused old man, and tried once again to push himself out of the mud.

Why did he feel so damn heavy?! His armor didn’t restrict his movement this much, and he was used to carrying the weight of it by now – not that it was really all that much armor to begin with, really. But, after another few moments of struggling, it started to dawn on Caspar why he was having so much trouble. It felt like his armor was constricting him all of a sudden, movement restricted and breathing getting more difficult. It was a risk, taking away some of his defenses, but the feeling of claustrophobia got to him quickly, and Caspar scrabbled to get the pieces of armor off.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the way he was changing. The way his ears changed shape from rounded off to something more triangular, becoming wider, perky and pointed at the tips. His face started to round out, too, plump cheeks and a swell of fat beneath his chin. It was only when his fingers started to get thicker and harder to use – luckily, after undoing most of the buckles for his plate armor – that Caspar realized that this was going far further than just an embarrassing pig nose.

“H-Hey, what the hell is happening to me–?!” Caspar demanded, fear tinging his words as his statement ended on the horrifically piggish sound of an oink. With his armor now loose and mostly off, he saw the way that the rest of his body was shifting.

He was getting bigger…

The old sorcerer chuckled as he saw reality smack the young general right in the face, dark eyes twinkling as he watched the once confident fighter squirm and struggle as he grew more and more into what he’d spelled him as.

He’d called the young upstart a hog, and a hog he would be in every sense of the word.

Embarrassment and anger flushed Caspar’s features as he was helpless to do much more than watch as his body was ruined. Trim muscle was quickly overtaken by soft, supple fat. He grunted and cursed as his armor popped off and his clothes became uncomfortably tight against his frame. Stuck on all fours, it was easy to feel the way his body got heavier. His thighs grew thick and meaty, brushing up against each other as he struggled, but then forcing him to widen his stance as they pressed into one another. His ass soon followed, rounding out wider and wider, wobbling as he shifted his growing weight. His arms plumped up as well, plush and fat enough to overlap his elbows a bit; even his hands and fingers had gotten chubby.

The worst, however, was his chest and stomach.

His abs had quickly disappeared under a layer of chub, but it didn’t stop at just a pot belly. It kept growing – out and out, rounder and fatter. It was so bizarre to feel, this heavy part of himself just hanging there, getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. His gut bounced and jiggled as it swelled outward with fat, stretching his shirt out as far as it could go before buttons gave up and popped right off, pale flesh now exposed to the cool of the air. To Caspar’s dismay, his chest wasn’t too far behind; pecs rounding out and puffing up, drooping weightily against the continuously expanding swell of his stomach.

It was getting harder to keep holding himself up on his hands and knees, his weight just getting more and more to deal with. Desperation started to sink into Caspar’s hastily narrowing mind, a shiver running through his fattening body as his burgeoning belly grew big enough to connect with the ground beneath him, cold mud smearing across the vast expanse of his gut. He can barely even tell when a curly pig’s tail pops up above the wide spread of his ass, his rear doing its best to keep up with the rest of him.

Caspar jolts when he feels a hand on his head, thin, bony hands messing into his shock of blue hair. The old mage is smiling at him, a knowing look on his wrinkled face.

“Don’t look so frightened about all this, boy. You’ll find I’m not a cruel master, especially to dumb beasts that don’t know any better. Isn’t that right, my loud little piglet?” the old man speaks in a soft and assuring tone, another, softer glow of magic from coming from his palm as he pets the former general’s head like one would to calm down a spooked animal.

Caspar wants to protest, wants to get up and shake off the terrible dream that this has to be…but, as that last spell starts to take, thoughts of getting away or fighting back any further seem to slip through his head like water between his fingers. Eventually, the growing weight of his body is simply too much for him to keep holding up, so Caspar simply lets himself collapse onto the solid mound of fat that is his gut. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the mud was becoming less of a discomfort to him as he practically started to wallow in it like a real pig would.

“Good pig,” the sorcerer praised, ruffling Caspar’s hair before withdrawing his hand, watching with amusement as the young man oinks at him lazily, now finally content to simply do what pigs do best.

Grow fat and fatter still.

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 2

A/N: I can’t promise all the chapters will come this quick, but I am inspired and I think I’m in love with these characters. I’ve never done a cocky character before, so I really want to try and tap into something interesting here with Shawn. Maybe I won’t who knows. Let me know if you like though? 

WARNING: smut. sex toys. public masturbation (kind of). orgasm denial.

*Shawn’s point of view*

She crawls out of his bed in the wee hours of the morning, at least for him. He wakes up long enough to tell her she’s free to use the shower and whatever else she needs. He can tell by the look on her face that she’s surprised at the gesture. She really thinks he’s a complete and total dick. But it’s the crack ass of dawn and he doesn’t have the emotional capacity to argue with her yet, so he rolls back over to go to bed.

He wakes up again to her heels clacking on the hotel room floor. She reaches over the bed in search of something, maybe her phone, and he tugs her down on top of him. She doesn’t seem nearly as happy about it as he is.

“Let me go! I am so late. I was supposed to be at work an hour ago.”

He skims his nose along her neck, happy to see that the hotel soap didn’t rid her of her own personal scent he’d grown obsessed with the night before.

“You’re the boss, you can go whenever you want.”

She pushes against his hold and he lets her for now, much more excited to watch her then fight with her.

“That’s not how I run my shit.” She snorted putting in an earring that must have slipped out when he was making her scream his name the night before. “This never happened by the way.”

He chuckled. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. That was a mistake, a big huge mistake. Your dad would have my ass and ruin my career. We both know it.”

It pisses him off far more than he has any right to. He used his dad freely for the connections, the money, the access to anything he ever wanted. But the second his dad became an inconvenience, he couldn’t beg for enough distance. This woman, with all her thick ass thighs and musical moans, was so much more than he ever could have expected. And he wasn’t about to let his dad ruin that for him.

“A mistake yea? Which orgasm? The one with my tongue, or the one with my fingers, or the one against the headboard? Just wanna make sure I’m on the same page.” He muttered.

Her eyes turned to slits and she leaned over him before shoving him back down to the bed with a very pointed finger.

“Listen here jackass. You do not get to use what we did last night against me.” She hissed.

“What the fuck would I wanna do that for anyway?! Jesus, we should keep fucking just so you can calm the hell down every once in a while.”

“Not likely. Bye Shawn.”

Her braids cut through the air as she leaves the room just as quickly as she entered it. He collapsed back against the pillows and let his hand travel along the tender spots where she’d sucked at his skin the night before. He could still taste her. Could still hear her. And his body absolutely betrayed him as a half chub began to form in his boxers. No one had ever given him what she had the night before. She had let him take the lead, had given herself over to him completely and fully. He was always dominant in bed but never with someone who gave off such opposite energy. She probably should have been the one bossing him around, and yet she had placed a lot of power and a lot of trust in his hands.

His half chub turns a little fuller the more that he thinks about her and he lets his fingers crawl beneath the covers to deal with it. He hadn’t jerked off over a woman, let alone a hook up, in years. He could think about the ramifications of that later. Not now. Not when he’s got the feel of her lips in his brain.

***

He heads past Tiffany’s desk to get to his dad’s office, but stops for a second when she gives him a look. Tiffany was probably the only reason his dad was able to get dressed every morning. She knew every detail of every minute of his day and she kept him directly on schedule at all times. It’s probably the only reason she wasn’t fired, cause she sure as hell isn’t sleeping with him like the other ones in the past. He likes her. She’s maybe the only person in either of their lives that doesn’t take any bullshit, even if she does have a little soft spot for him.

“Hey Tiffany. You’re looking radiant as ever this afternoon.” He grinned, leaning against her desk.

“You’re late.” She said flatly. “He was expecting you hours ago.”

“Yea, I had a bit of a late start today.”

She lets her eyes glide over him and stares blatantly at a hickey on his neck he hadn’t bothered to try and hide.

“Sure. I suggest you get your ass in there. He’s on one today.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Sounds good. Thanks, Tiff.”

When he walks into his dad's office, he’s already screaming to some poor bastard on the phone. So, he heads straight for the fridge and grabs himself a water to wait for the tides to turn against him. It doesn’t take long.

“Well if it isn’t my son, my one and only, the kid I’ve given everything to at every waking moment of his life! How kind of you to join me!” Manny sneered.

He took a seat on the other side of his father’s desk, plopping down into one of the not so comfy chairs he had there.

“Nice to see you too daddy-o. What’d I miss?”

“You missed the first goddamn meeting with the directors I asked you to come to!” His dad roared. “What did I say, Shawn? Enough of this childish bullshit. I gave you that pony show last night so that you could start taking things seriously, so that you could start taking your future with this business, seriously!”

“I fucking forgot okay. My bad.”

“It’s always your bad, dammit! Enough is enough. Everyone with a brain the size of a pea knows you don’t deserve a position in this company, the least you can do is make the nepotism a little less obvious. The least you can do is make the first goddamn meeting with the people who help fund us!”

His dad was definitely going to have a heart attack by sixty. It was just a given at this point.

When the yelling and the screaming doesn’t work, and it never does, his dad as an innate ability to switch up his approach. His dad was a vindictive bastard at heart and no one, absolutely no one bore the brunt of that the way that Shawn did.

“You want to touch music ever again?” He asked, his voice quieter than it’d been since Shawn stepped into the room.

His whole body locks up, and his eyes harden as he stares at him.

“This is all you got. All those demos, all those melodies? They belong to me. This is what you get okay? And if you don’t start treating this business with some dignity and respect? I’ll let one of these other yahoos take over the company and you’ll be shit out of luck. Do I make myself clear?”

His shoulders completely slump and the feeling that he seemed to have within him at all time came roaring back infinitely. The inadequacies. The powerlessness. He was nothing. Nothing. And never would he be anything that his father hadn’t already determined him to be. That’s just the way it went. It was the way the cards had been dealt for him. No use in fighting it.

“Yea, dad. I understand.” He muttered getting up out of his seat.

“Have Tiffany share the notes from the meeting you missed today. I want you here tomorrow at nine am. You’re going to follow me around to my meetings, get the lay of the land.”

There was no arguing so he just headed for the door instead.

“Oh and Shawn?”

He sighed but turned to face his father again. “Yea?”

“Try to not to let whatever whore you’re with next time make it so obvious. We’re better than that.”

No use in fighting it.

“Yes, sir.”

***

His shoulders are so tense that he can feel the knots forming along his neck. It’s the stress that always comes when his dad lays down the law and reminds him of where he’s at in life, where he’ll probably always be. They could say money buys you happiness all damn day long, but he hadn’t been happy. He hadn’t been happy in a really long fucking time. He’d tried just about everything. A five mile run. Had played the guitar until his fingers were sore. It isn’t until he tries to jerk off and that vision of her appears in his mind again, the way she had flicked her braids over her back, the way she had gleamed with sweat. It’s not until then that he really has to contemplate what the entire hell is going on with him, because he’s never thought about a hook up like this. Ever.

He stares up at the ceiling with another fucking boner starting in his pants. Fuck contemplation. Where had that ever got him?

“Thank you for calling Miss y/l/n’s office. This is Tianna, how may I help you?”

He peered over at the clock on his bedside. It was after eight o’clock. Way past working hours. He had a feeling wherever y/n went so did she.

“Tianna, darling.” He hummed. “She working you into the ground over there?”

She immediately snorted. “We’re doing just fine over here Mr. Mendes. How can I help you?”

“Please, call me Shawn.”

“Call me stupid. What do you want?”

Tough crowd in that office, really.

“I need to schedule a meeting with her. It’s work related. My dad needs her.” He lied.

“Uh Huh...and just what is it that your dad needs that he’s sending you to get at eight o’clock at night?”

He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. “Look he’s having me take over some accounts to get the lay of the land. I’ve got two artists playing jingle ball alongside her artists. We want to talk possible on stage collaboration.”

And they called him dumb.

“Hmmm...well, she’s very busy.” Tianna drew on.

“Yes, I’m sure she is. If I was to come to her office right now though I’d assume she’s not exactly having meetings now is she?”

“If you came to her office right now I think your little spiel about ‘on stage collaborations’ might look more like a booty call.”

He chuckled. “But if you help me out with a little something, then I could maybe help her out with a little something, and we can all be a little happier.”

“You white boys always thinking your dick can cure cancer. Get off my phone.”

“I think if you didn’t want me to come, Tianna? You would’ve hung up already. I’ll see you in twenty.”

It was that kind of relentless optimism in life that had gotten him to where he was today. Here’s a hoping it struck one more time.

***

y/n point of view*

You’re sat at your desk trying to figure out what it was about the age of twenty that seemed to make your artists lose their ever loving mind. One of your up and comers was found outside a bar as three am drunk off his ass and now you had to face the casualties. There’s a tension thick and firm in your shoulders and rolling down over every individual vertebrae in your spine. You were stressed, had been all day, and it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon. You rubbed your fingers against your temples and reached for your phone to tell Tianna to maybe order you some dinner, and then head home for the night. No use in both of you being miserable.

“Hey Ti’. I’m gonna be late again. Could you order me something? No mexican please, maybe something from that asian place with the dumplings?” You asked softly. “You can go home straight after.”

“Sure thing, girl. There is something I wanted to run by you though--”

“Oh not tonight, Ti. I’m swamped. Just the food, and that will be all.”

It was a bit of a bitch move, but you and Tianna had navigated these waters time and time again throughout your friendship. She let you be when you were stressed, but never let is pass. She’d always call you out eventually. You were pretty good at navigating professional and friendship. Also, you wouldn’t last a day without her, and both of you knew it.

It’s another hour before you hear movement outside your door. You assumed Tianna had given the delivery guy your office number, so you slide from your chair still barefoot and went to grab your meal.

He’s standing on the other side of your door with your food in his hands and that dumbass smirk on his face that you had practically licked off the night before. The worst part was the rush of feelings that flooded your stomach with him there. There wasn’t nearly enough irritation and annoyance as there was a fluttering and a heat. You had seen what he could do after all, and your body was already attuned to such things. Dumb.

“Oh what the hell!” You groaned snatching the brown paper bag from his hands. “How did you get up here?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me! I told Tianna I was coming.”

Shit. She’d tried to warn you too. You were an idiot and a bitch. Lovely.

You reached straight for your dumplings, not having the capacity to deal with your six foot two headache before you dealt with your hunger problem. You popped a squat on the edge of your desk and looked at him between bites. No suit today. Instead he was wearing black skinny jeans that looked like they’d been painted on. He was wearing a cardigan that looked particularly fluffy and a white t-shirt. You noticed there was a difference in the way his eyes looked then what you remembered. They were duller. They weren’t nearly as alive as they’d been when he was making your body sing for him the night before. Hell, he hadn’t even looked this dead at the banquet. He looked tired, beat down. But, that wasn’t supposed to matter to you. Right?

“Why are you in my office right now?” You asked.

He stalked a little closer, choosing to sit on the arm of the chair beside your desk so that his legs could slide closer towards yours.

“I thought you’d be a little happier to see me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And why would you think that? I told you what happened last night never happened. And you agreed.”

“I didn’t agree. I said I wouldn’t tell my dad.” He corrected.

“Whatever. You don’t hook up with the same woman more than once anyway. We both know that.” You shrugged reaching for another dumpling.

“Yea, I--I know. But, I think we both know last night wasn’t a normal hook up.”

You crossed and uncrossed your legs paying special attention to chewing each bite of food before you swallowed it, as you worked to compose your face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t do you?” He hummed dipping his head to catch your eye.

He got up off the chair taking the two steps to be far too close into your bubble. You wondered idly if his lack of understanding of personal space came with the privilege of being rich, or the privilege of being attractive, or if was that whole male privilege thing instead. When his hands settled on either side of you on your desk, you settle on it being some kind of combination of the three.

“You’re gonna tell me I didn’t treat you good last night?” He whispered nose skimming along your neck. “That I didn’t touch you in ways you’ve never been touched before? That I didn’t have you cumming for me like a fountain?”

Your thighs pulse needily, but when you go to squeeze them together, he’s already standing there between them so that they wrap around him. His fingers trailed to your thighs and the sensation was so familiar, so right, that you found yourself leaning more into his space.

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. You’re stressed. I’m stressed. Just let me come over every now and again and knock you into a wall for a few hours. I think it’s a worthy transaction for the two of us.”

He was such an asshole. God, he was such an asshole and the assholery came off of him in waves. But he made you wetter than a faucet and he had big hands that felt so good when they were shoving you wherever he wanted. When you woke up that morning you had felt infinite relief. You hadn’t wanted to leave the warmth of the sheets behind. It was your first time being late since you got food poisoning three years prior. You had wanted to stay. And that was the second you lost.

“There have to be rules.” You sighed in defeat.

Shawn only heard yes and begun to tug at your jacket off your shoulders, his stupid lips doing this incredible thing on your neck that you really wish you hated.

“No one can know. It can only happen at night time.” You begun and paused to moan as he sucked at your collarbone. “It only happens at my apartment building or yours.”

“God I’ve really gotta gag this beautiful mouth.” He groaned reaching up to silence you with his lips.

Somewhere along the way you figured out that you were always working to have the upperhand, always fighting for power. And you figured out that you didn’t need that with Shawn. Once you realized that he wasn’t going to use it against you, that allowing him to be dominant was only going to result in your pleasure? You were able to let go. And when you let go, the pleasure was infinite.

Your chinese ends up on the floor. So does you dress as he very quickly breaks one of the goddamn rules and bends you over your own desk instead.

“God, this ass. I could write whole songs about it.” He muttered. “Spread your legs for me.”

“M--My desk.” You stuttered trying to be reasonable when your mind wanted anything but that.

“Spread them, or I’ll tie them open.”

Jesus.

You moaned softly into the hardwood, letting your legs drape open  against the side of the desk. His fingers mapped out your body, melding to every curve, and keeping you on high alert. Not being able to see him only made you want him more. You could hear the sound of his belt clanking as he undid his jeans, could smell that he was hot for you as you were for him. And that’s all that mattered.

“You’re so tight for me. Christ.”

He plunged inside your body like no one had ever before. Like maybe he hated you, or like maybe your pleasure was the only thing that mattered to you. His hips were hard and punishing. His hands gripped your hips like a gentle caress mixed with a punishment. It left you distorted, left you hot and bothered and completely absorbed in everything that he could make you feel with such startling precision. This wasn’t just him using your body to get himself off, this was something that occured in unison. For every second he spent chasing his own high inside you, you continuously found your own pleasure from him. It was infinite and all consuming. It was more than enough to keep you coming back for more.

The desk quaked on its legs, your papers flew everywhere, and still his fingers are grabbing at your ass like it’s his. And in that moment, it is. In that moment you’d give him everything one a silver platter if he asked for it. But, he doesn’t. He takes and he takes and he gives it all right back to you ten fold. You feel that familiar tightening in your stomach and your eyes clam shut. You’re at a total loss for how your orgasm could possily come this quickly and this intensly,  but here the fuck you are.

You reach back for his wrist on your ass and cry out into the wood of your desk as he only moved deeper within you.

“I’m gonna cum.”You whimpered.

“Not yet.”

You shook your head a tremble beginning in your legs.

“No I--I’m gonna cum! I can’t.”

His body leaned over you, caging you in and his lips found their way to your ear.

“If you cum without my permission? I’m gonna spank your ass so raw, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“Oh my god.”

The desk jerks askew and Shawn just slows down his thrusts in favor of digging deep into your body. And your back loses its arch as you turn to actual liquid in his hands.

“Fuck! Fuck! Shawn!”

“You’re fucking dripping for me. Take it. Take all of me. Make yourself cum.”

You grab at the papers on your desk and your eyes roll back in your skull once again. There’s a squelching sound every time you pushed back against his hips. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You’re fucking exploding. What a fucking arrangement.

***

Work goes a little differently in the coming weeks. You yell a little less, smile a little more, and don’t find yourself constantly rubbing that spot in your neck that seemed to absorb every ounce of stress you ever had. And it’s not about Shawn. It’s definitely not. It’s just the regular sex. It could have been anyone, really. It just helped that this someone was good with knots and his hips. After the initial fuck up, you stuck to the rules. Only his apartment or yours. Never during the day. He didn’t come to your office, and you sure as hell didn’t go to his.

It wasn’t exactly meaningless sex. It was purposeful sex. You each had a goal, a build up of tension, that you needed eased. Doing that together just seemed to make a little sense. It was easy. It wasn’t complicated. And that’s what you loved. Not the person. Just the act. It was dirty and hard and sometimes painful, and you loved it. He seemed to find every kink you had, even the ones you hadn’t thought you had, and laid them all out with sparkling clarity. You couldn’t help but think back to the first time after your agreement when you’d stepped into his apartment.

“Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? I think I’ve got wine, water, and a juice somewhere.”

You were confused, plopped off your heels and headed for the shockingly white couch.

“Uh, do we need drinks for sex?”

He snorted. “What you, the most talkingest person I’ve ever met, thought we were just going to jump into things without talking first?”

“Well...yea. Kinda?” You murmured, now feeling a little indignant.

He took a seat next to you on the couch, crossing his leg over his thigh and turning towards you. The proximity alone was enough to get you a little bothered.

“Look I...I want this to be good for the both of us. And I want it to be safe. I want it to be consensual at all times. And to do that we really need to talk, okay? We’ve gotta set up what we want this to be. What we both want this to be.”

It’s a lot more endearing a lot softer than you expected. And you didn’t know how to justify this image you continued to have of him, with all the things you kept learning about him. He really made it hard to hate him sometimes.

“Okay.”

“Okayyyy. Well, why don’t you tell me something you don’t want, and I’ll do the same. And we’ll start from there.” He coaxed.

“Well I’m not doing no race play shit, that’s for damn sure!”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

“A white one.” You blinked.

“Funny. No race play. Got it. I like to be dominant, but there’s some shit I won’t do. I won’t do anything until you bleed. I love slapping your ass as much as the next guy, but I’m not gonna do it to the point of pain over pleasure. I’m not gonna hit you, and I’m not gonna do any of the bodily fluids besides semen.” He explained calmly.

You bit your lip. “So you uh...you’ve done this before huh?”

He nodded softly. “I have. And you haven’t. That’s okay. I’m more than willing to teach you.”

“Okay...so is it like a dom and sub relationship?” You asked hesitantly.

“It doesn’t have to be that if you don’t want it to. Sometimes adding a label on it makes it more scary than it needs to be. This can still just be a hookup. Are there other things you don’t wanna try?”

“I don’t really want to be called anything derogatory.” You admitted. “I liked the rough parts. I liked...doing what you asked me to. I just don’t want to feel demeaned if that makes sense.”

You felt very out of your element. Again, you weren’t the expert in the room. He was. And you just had to trust that he was gonna do the right thing for the both of you. Only because, so far he actually had.

“Of course. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet but I’m not just here for my pleasure, y/n. Half of what I get out of it is making you feel good. That’s what I want to do.”

It was hard to look at him when he spoke like that. The softness, the earnestness. None of it made a lot of sense to you. And you didn’t like how your body reacted to it, how easily he could draw you in like that. So you reached for him, lips and teeth and fingers on the back of his neck. And he pulled you into his lap with such ease. It made you melt. You were kind of fucked. But it was okay for now.

“So you’ll be in LA through Sunday for the awards. I have you back here Monday afternoon. I moved all your meetings to Tuesday so you could rest up a little bit. And then it’s time to prepare for the MSG shows for Khalid.” Tianna rattled off.

You were listening. You were a hundred and fifty percent listening. And you weren’t at all squirming in your seat. Nope.

“S--Sounds lovely. Can’t wait!”

She did the black mother squint and lean at you, so you forced your hips to calm the hell down in your seat.

“What the hell is up with you?” She asked.

Your eyes widened. “Cramps! A real son of a bitch, aren’t they?”

“Cramps? You want me to get you some mitol?”

“No thank you, I already took some. I’m gonna work on the proposal for the new marketing campaign with nike and then I’ll take lunch okay?”

“Sounds good chief, holler if you need me!”

You watched with painstaking eyes as she slowly left the room before finally allowing you to collapse and reach for your phone. This was too much. This was the worst idea ever in the history of ever.

“Hello?”

“Turn it off. Turn it off right now, Tianna probably thinks I’m a mad woman!” You sighed shakily.

Shawn chuckled. “Nice to see you too darling. What did I say last night?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you thought back to the look in his eyes when he’d pressed the egg shaped device between your legs.

“If I don’t wear it all day then I’m not a good girl.”

“Exactly. And what do good girls get to do?”

You bit your lip unable to stop the rocking of your hips. “Good girls get to cum.”

“That’s right. Do you wanna cum y/n? Do you deserve to cum for me?”

“Y--Yea. Yes, please? I--I wanna be good. I wanna cum.”

Sure enough the damn vibration increased and your thighs began to quake. You whined desperately canting your hips up for something that wasn’t there. Something that was probably a good forty-five minutes away from you by subway. And lord knows Shawn’s ass had probably never been on the subway.

“You make the prettiest fucking sounds.” He sighed. “I wish I didn’t have this meeting, or I’d come right over there and make you fall apart all over my cock.”

“A meeting? What meeting?” You asked desperate to keep your mind off the quaking beneath your skirt.

“My asshole of a dad is having me meet with investors for this new Madison Beer look-alike he just signed. They’re already trying to figure out how to maximize sex appeal. She’s seventeen.”

“That’s disgusting. You have to know that’s disgusting.”

“Of course I do. And you have to know better than anyone that I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

You rolled your eyes up at the ceiling. “You’ll destroy that girl before she even gets a chance to figure out who she is, what artist she wants to be.”

“Yea well my father isn’t in the business of letting artists decide who they wanna be.”

It’s a little more honest than you’re supposed to be with each other. A little moment, where you let the facade slip. Where you’re not just two people fucking. Because you’re both in the same business, the same industry, and there’s something that allows you both the ability to know more than anyone else ever could. And that makes it a little hard.

“Are you coming to mine tonight?” You hinted, trying to get this thing back on track.

“Yea. I uh I’ll be there around ten.” He cleared his throat, base continuing. “I want you to keep it inside of you all day. And if you’re good. If I’ve decide you’ve been good, then I’ll let you cum tonight. Maybe I’ll even let you ride my thigh”

A moan escapes your lips that had no business coming out in the open like that. You had never even mentioned that his thighs sort of made your mouth water, nor that you’d even thought about rubbing your pussy all over them. That just seemed to be another one of those things he picked up on without you having to say it.

“Fuck. Okay, okay I’ll be good.”

“Good girl. I’ll see you at ten.”

You collapsed back against your chair again as the phone call ended. 12 hours to go. Shit.

***

You were lying on the bed withering. It’s the only way you could describe what it felt like you were going through. You felt like you were in heat. The room was sweltering. Your thighs had been pressed together for the past hour and it wasn’t getting any better. You needed to cum. God you just needed to cum. About twenty minutes ago, that bastard had moved it to the highest setting. You were dripping at this point.

He let himself into your apartment, the directive to leave your door unlocked making a lot more sense when you were practically grinding into your sheets.

“Fuck, I can smell you.” He hummed. “You miss me?”

“I need to cum. Please, Shawn. Please.” You started rambling immediately.

He proceeds as if you’ve said nothing. He starts with his watch, slipping it over his wrist to set on the nightstand. His rings and bracelet join the party as well. Then it’s his jacket and the button up. You listen to the metal clink of his belt and it make your eyes roll back in your head knowing that you’ll finally get what you’d been waiting on forever. The excitement is in your chest and between your legs. The want that you have for him curling up like a ball in your gut. He knows exactly what he does to do, and it makes you hate him and want him all the more.

It feels like hours before he joins you on the bed. And when he does, he just stares at you for a while. His eyes roam over your hips and your cheeks and the arch in your foot and the stretch marks near your belly button. It’s so specific and so intimate that you can only watch him watch you. He turned off the vibrations, but somehow you’re only now just noticing. Sometimes when he looks at you like this, you don’t know how to respond. Can never decide what the look in his eyes means. And you wonder if he knows either.

He blinks and the look vanishes, and back is this look that says, “I’m going to devour you for all that you are.”

“Come sit on my lap, baby girl.” He whispered.

You move on shaky legs, crawling onto your knees to where he sat at the edge of the mattress. His fingers slip between your legs, your hands falling to his shoulders as he tugs the vibrator from inside you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he just fucking smiles at you and tugs at your hips. Your lips touch his thigh and you have to hide your face in his neck to keep from cumming right there.

His fingers reach for your ass, digging deep into the flesh, as his lips touch your ear.

“I’m gonna let you ride my thigh until you cum. It’ll be the only time you get to cum until the end of the night, so I suggest you make it count.”

You whined softly arms wrapping around his neck in desperation.

“I’m so sensitive.” You whispered.

He tilted your hips down with his hands on your hips resulting in your clit brushing against his thigh with purpose. You practically sobbed.

“Oh my god!”

“God, your fucking voice.” He grunted. “Ride my thigh.”

There’s no need for lubricant of any kind because you’re soaked to your very core. It saturates his thigh until your gliding easily against the flesh. And it’s so fucking hot. It feels so fucking good. You couldn’t control the way that your hips fluttered and twitched against him with every push of your hips. Every slide had you gasping his name with recklessness. Just the way he wanted you. Desperate. Needy. Submissive. And you thrived in it.

He tensed his leg, making his thigh firmer, and you fucking lost it. Your fingers turned to fists in his hair just to have something to grip onto as you rode him for all you were worth. His hands on your hips helped move you faster and it made the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten until it snapped with ease.

“That’s it. That’s so good. Cum for me like a good girl.” He demanded.

You cried out into your apartment, back arching as your orgasm ran through you like a tidal wave. His thigh became drenched and your heart hammered heavily in your chest as you collapsed in his arms like the mess he turned you into.

“Fuck.” You moaned desperately. “Oh my god.”

“Feel good?” He hummed. “What do you say?”

“Thank you. Thank you for letting me cum.”

“You’re welcome. Now go pick out a toy to keep yourself occupied with.”

The second that Shawn found out you had a pretty impressive arsenal of toys for yourself, he had taken full advantage. You quickly discovered that your favorite scenario was the gspot stimulator that did some amazing, amazing things. You liked it most because it seemed to drive him crazy when you lost control, when you were just barely holding on to a thread for him. You got off on his pleasure, and he got off on yours. It was a beautiful endless cycle.

You go to lay back against your blankets, only for Shawn to join you sooner than normal. He took the toy from your hands and sat it down by your hip. His fingers trailed between your labia, thumbing playfully at your clit. He looked at you as you did it, eyes dark and hooded and hot. You were in for a wild as night tonight.

“I’m gonna put this in. I’m gonna fuck you with it. And you’re gonna wanna cum. But you’re not going to. Not until I say, do you understand?”

You rolled your hips incessantly and sighed. “Yea.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

His fingers were rough and calloused, an incredible sensation against your smooth thighs. You felt his curls tickle your stomach as he leaned down to test your wetness with his lips. A groan made its way past your lips as he kissed at your clit. Before you could even begin to move your hips, he was pushing the toy inside of you and flicking the switch on.

“Mmmmm,” You hummed. “Feels good, Shawn.”

He twirled the stem of the vibrator manipulating the toy until it rested directly against your gspot. And that’s when he turned it to the highest setting.

“Oh fuck!”

“Feel good?” He chuckled teeth hitting your inner thigh.

“Y--Yea. Holy shit yea.”

He peered up at you from between your legs and proceeded to kiss, lick, and suck at the skin of your thighs. His fingers wrapped around the vibrator and started to thrust it in and out jaggedly. Your fingers dug into the sheets and you bit at your lip as he played you like a fuckin violin. The egg shaped toy slid in and out hitting the tip of your clit on every outward stroke. You whined and tilted your hips down trying to get more pressure.

He frowned up at you, teeth biting down into the flesh of your thigh before he soothed the mark with his tongue.

“Don’t do that. Be good for me.”

“I need it.” You sighed. “Please, Shawn.”

“What do you need?”

“Your tongue, your fingers--anything. Please?”  

“You want my tongue?”

“Yea. So bad.” You whined. “Fuck Shawn, please!”

He maneuvered your leg over his shoulder tongue pointing between his lips to hit your already engorged clit. The dampness of his tongue was heavenly against your aching flesh, but in combination with the still rampant vibrator it was so much more than that. It was completely and utterly too much. The coil in your gut grew hotter and tighter. Your toes curled. Holy mother of god.

“W--Wait! Wait I’m gonna cum!”

His hands did that thing where they locked into your hips, pushing you firmly down into the bed as he continued to suck you for all you were worth. You fist your fingers in his hair and threaded your legs around his back fully and deeply prepared to ride your orgasm out. Just as you were about to fall apart, muscles tensing and aching for release, it all disappears. He lets your clit slip from his lips and takes the vibrator out leaving you to pulse and thrash against the sheets.

“Fuck!” you grunted, thighs squeezing together involuntarily.

“Ah ah ah.” He hummed pulling them apart with ease. “Let me look at you. See the way this perfect cunt twitches for me. Shit, y/n. You have no idea how fucking pretty you are.”

You peer down between your legs watching your muscles clench anxiously around nothing. You can see yourself glisten from where you are, can only imagine how much better it must be from down there. There’s no room to think about it for long before he’s running the flat part of his tongue along your entrance in search for any juices he may have left behind.

Drool oozes past his lips, and he runs his thumb into your clint to spread it around. And then the vibrator is back in his hands, but instead of slipping it inside you, he presses it right up against your clit instead. The vibrations are rapid and loud hitting at every nerve ending in your already thoroughly soaked core. There’s no need to grind against it because he’s pushing it so tightly against you already, and when he flicks it beneath your hood so that it touches just barely at your actual clit, you’re done for. It’s right back where you were not even sixty seconds prior.

Your nails dig into his wrist and your back arches in desperation.

“Please! Please!” You gasped. “Let me cum!”

He shook his head not letting up on the pressure at all.

“You don’t order me. I’ll let you cum when I’m ready.”

Tears form in your eyes. It’s the denial and the pleasure and the cusp of pain that might just drive you over the edge if he’d ever fucking let it happen. You didn’t know the act of not cumming could feel this good, could make you feel this desperate. He pushed your body places that it had never been, made you feel things you had never felt. And he thrived on what it did to you. He thrived on your hips pushing back against him, on the moans that rung out from your throat. Every response seemed to fuel him even further.

Your legs begin to twitch again, screaming for ecstasy when a knock rings out on your apartment door, bringing everything to a crashing halt.

“You expecting company?” He asked, vibrator still very much in tact.

You shook your head, bottom lip destroyed by your teeth at this point.

“No. No one.”

They knock again.

“Are you sure?”

“You know I really can’t focus on anything but my clit at the moment!” You huffed.

The knocking continues, a little more aggressively this time, and Shawn finally rolled his eyes and pushed the vibrator back into his rightful position against your gspot.

“Don’t move. And you better not cum while I’m gone.” He ordered.

*meanwhile at the door*

There’s a guy at the door in a suit with his arms crossed in a semi intimidating fashion. Shawn’s half naked with one of the strongest hardons of his life hidden behind the door, and he’s a little confused and annoyed at the interruption.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

“Is Miss. Y/l/n here?” The guy asked.

Shawn raised an eyebrow. “Who’s asking?”

“I am sir. We got a disturbance call, and I’m checking to make sure things are alright.”

“Oh….Oh! Yea, no I understand why you might have gotten that call but I assure you things are fine here.” He snorted.

“Yes, well I assure you just as soon as I see her alive and well, I’ll take your word for it.”

The shit he went through for sex.  

“Look dude,” He sighed pulling the door open to reveal the sheets bunched awkwardly around his very naked waist. “She’s not in any pain she doesn’t want to be in. We’ll try to keep it down.”

“I’m sure that might be, but we take our jobs very seriously here and I’ve yet to see y/n, so I’m afraid I cannot leave you alone in an apartment you don’t live in.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to call into the house. “Y/n! Will you please tell the not so nice security guard than I am fucking you, not killing you!”

“SHAWN! IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR DUMB ASS FROM IN FRONT OF MY DOOR!!”

“Anymore questions?” He asked the guard politely before closing the door in his face.

*Meanwhile back in the bedroom*

“You better have been fucking joking.”

He dropped the sheet from around his waist and wrapped his fingers around his dick working himself back up to peak hardness.

“Not at all. But I’m not done with you yet. Be a good girl and lie back.”

“But Shawn--”

“Be a good girl and lie back and I’ll let you cum on my tongue before I fuck the shit out of you.”

You lie back for him. Duh.

If you wanted to buy me a Kofi so I can not be poor that would be dope. 

Permanent taglist 

@simpledomain @liliane106  @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @sinplisticshawn @thecurlsofgod @kamahriii @lifeoftheparty74

Arrangement Taglist: 

@moonlightmendes22  @cottoncandyshawn @iloveshawnieboi @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsblue @cottoncandyshawn

@claredolphinbear24 @peterbrokenparker @shawnase @blackharry

[despair-tummy]

some chub Mika.n and Gund.am for a trade

[[MORE]]

Mikan was more than relieved when her shift at the hospital ended, she was terrified of running into someone she knew back from Hope’s Peak whenever she worked. It especially didn’t help that she tended to work when the hospital was at its busiest. It was her worst nightmare she would stumble into Hiyoko again after all these years, the dancer would surely subject her to an all too familiar round of bullying.

It wasn’t like Mikan intended for it to happen! She blamed all the budget cuts towards the hospital, which meant fewer staff, leading to herself and the others have to take on extra duties. Mikan originally wouldn’t have minded, she loved her job! She liked taking blood samples, x-rays, doing ultrasounds, CTs, and many other duties that came along with her job. Seeing as she was an ultimate she was a bit of a jack of all trades in her medical field, so it only seemed right she takes on the bulk of the duties (that and she was a pushover) to help through these hard times.

However, spending so much time on her feet and working long hours left little time for meal prep. She was simply too sore and tired to cook, so she often ate out or relied on frozen dinners... not to mention Mikan developed a habit of snacking on candy while at home. It was just easier to than preparing an actual meal! Not to mention the her coworkers and grateful patients would often bring in pizza and baked goods for the hospital staff. And with not knowing if you have enough time to microwave some leftovers because you could have to treat the victims of a car accident, you learned to eat when you can and fast.

But of course, the long term effects of a poor diet eventually started to show. Mikan had no idea how the other hospital staff managed to stay so skinny! Meanwhile, she had ballooned out like crazy. Oh, the world must hate her so for giving her such an awful metabolism! She was on her feet all day constantly running samples to the lab, shouldn’t that had burned off all the cupcakes and pizza she had at work?

Judging by her plump figure with a pair of thunder thighs that rubbed together uncontrollably with each step she took (hence why she started wearing leggings to avoid the infamous chub rub), a taut little tummy that especially liked to make its presence known after a big meal or junk food binge in the break room, and had resulted in a few ‘when are you due?’ from her coworkers and patients. The sleeves of her uniform felt so tight from how chunky her arms were, Mikan absolutely hated the idea of having to get a bigger uniform but they felt so uncomfortable. Then there was her face, that second chin was developing steadily and her cheeks had rounded out, making her resemble a hamster with cheeks stuffed to the brim with sunflower seeds.

“Oh, come on.” Mikan groaned, attempting and failing miserably at hailing down a taxi to return home. Of all the days she had to forget her bus pass it was when the weather forecast called for rain! “O-oh, excuse me! Over-“ she was cut off when the taxi she was trying to get zoomed passed her and straight through a puddle, drenching her in dirty rainwater. “here...” she finished all too late.

Her heart raced anxiously as she shivered, how was she going to get home? It was her day off tomorrow and she originally wanted to curl up in bed and take it easy. Mikan sniffled, blinking back tears. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath right now, or better yet, be magically transported to a warmer place with a comfortable bed with plenty of fluffy blankets. But unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen, she was stuck in the cold rain trying to desperately get a taxi to notice her.

“Ah, wait!” Mikan cried out, deciding to run towards the car despite seeing one of the passenger doors shut, signalling it was occupied. “C-could we please share? I’m sorry I smell like a wet dog, bu-but I just want to go home! I-I’ll pay for both our fares and-“ She stopped, eyes wide as the passenger window rolled down. Oh no...

It wasn’t the infamous Hiyoko like Mikan feared she would run into one day, but that was only a step below the worst-case scenario, the passenger was still someone she went to school with. She could recognize that scarf and scar tattoo anywhere, it was the ultimate breeder, Gundam Tanaka.

“My, my, Mikan Tsumiki... the ultimate cleric of healing,” he spoke, his gaze locked onto her. “You wish to partake in a journey with me through these unforgiving realms?”

“I-if it’s not too much trouble.” Mikan twirled a choppy lock of hair around her finger anxiously. Sure Mikan always feared running into someone she knew since her weight gain, but staying out in the rain wasn’t an ideal either. And Gundam was never one of her bullies, so surely he wouldn’t point out what a blob she had become.

“Heh, but of course not! It is always an honour to travel with someone of your capabilities.” he grinned. “Now, enter this gateway through this cursed realm!”

Mikan nodded and immediately yanked the taxi door open so hard she nearly fell backwards. She wasted not a single second getting into the cab and out of the cold rain. It wasn’t until she shut the car door and buckled up did she finally get a good look at Gundam after all these years.

At first, his scarf concealed it, but the breeder was sporting a full-on double chin. But that wasn’t all, he took up a big chunk of the cab, leaving barely enough room for the portly nurse. Mikan was practically a twig compared to him. The cab driver up front had his seat as close to the wheel as possible to make room for just how large Gundam was. His gut sat comfortably on top of his pillar-like thighs, nearly obscuring them completely from her view. He was as wide as he was tall, wider even! An absolute blob of a man! Could he even walk?

“It’s been quite a few years, oh great healer,” Gundam said.

“Y-yeah, indeed it has.” Mikan tried not to stare.

“What quests have you been undertaking since our departure from the realm of knowledge?”

“I...been working at the hospital.”

“Working at such an advance castle! You must be quite proud of the healing abilities you possess, I must admit I am rather envious.”

A smile touched her face, even after all these years, she could still understand Gundam and his eccentric manner of speech enough to know he was praising her! Her insides became all warm and fuzzy at his words, it’s been so long since someone actually complimented her abilities as a nurse! Being in the medical field she felt often overworked and under-appreciated.

“Thank- ACHOO!” Mikan sneezed directly into her elbow.

“Hmph, it would appear the storm gods decided to curse you.” Gundam’s thin lips straighten as he unravelled his scarf and offered it to Mikan.

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“There is no need to fear, this garment will not hurt powerful beings such as you and I.” he reassured.

Mikan hesitated for a moment but in the end, accepted the scarf and wrapped it around her. Wow! She didn’t expect it to be so warm and soft!

“We must remove this curse immediately,” Gundam spoke, crossing his fat arms. “Gatekeeper of the realms, take us to the sanctuary immediately!” he ordered at the taxi driver, who remained completely unfazed by his orders. Mikan guessed Gundam took taxis a lot so he must be a known regular.

The drive wasn’t a long one, she guessed ten minutes at the most. The taxi parked in front of what looked like a restaurant establishment.

“Oh... I don’t have enough money on me to eat out and pay for a ride,” she confessed, originally she intended to do up some instant ramen when she got home. “ I’m so SO sorry!”

“I assure you, I have more than enough wealth,” he said, opening the door.

They both unbuckled and exited the car... well one of them did.

“Gundam, are you...” she trailed off, averting her eyes awkwardly.

“This but a mere part of my journey, nothing to dwell over.”

Mikan would beg to differ, but she kept her mouth shut as she tried not to watch Gundam struggle to get out of the taxi, his blubbery body kept him stuck tightly within the car door frame.

“Do...do you need any help?” she asked, feeling her cheeks turn red at the sight.

“Your concern is thoughtful but unneeded, I have faced this trial many times!” Gundam reassured with such confidence for someone who was trying to squirm their way out of a car.

Mikan just stood there and twiddled her thumbs awkwardly as Gundam struggled, she tried not to stare but she always found her eyes would end up lingering on him with every jiggle and bounce of his fatty frame. It was almost comical when he managed to finally get out, Mikan could have sworn she heard an almost cartoony pop, but she didn’t know if that was in real life or in her mind.

“Now, onward!” Gundam commanded and waddled on ahead with Mikan following from behind, trying her hardest not to stare at his massive rump that sagged behind him.

The inside of the building revealed it was an all-day breakfast buffet. Mikan’s mouth watered instantly at the sight of waffles, bacon, sausages, breakfast pastries, eggs and countless fruit varieties.

“Well, I accept all forms of power sources, this one I find I tend to desire the most,” Gundam said as they got a table to set their stuff down. “And it burns deeply with enough dragon fire to help you fully recover from your curse.”

“It is rather to-toasty in here.” Mikan took off Gundam’s scarf, carefully folding it and set it aside.

“Now, let us engage in supply our forms with the healing prophecies from this sanctuary of recovery!” Gundam announced, squeezing himself out of the booth and shuffling to the array of food.

The combination of sweet and savoury smells was hypnotic to Mikan, she lost interest in watching Gundam and wasted no time grabbing a plate and getting her food. Two fluffy blueberry pancakes, six rashers of crispy bacon, four juicy pork sausages and a bowl of fruit.

The irony was not lost on her, Mikan was a nurse. And when most people thought of doctors and nurses they were normally under the impression that they ate extremely healthy. But that was the furthermost from the truth, incredibly their diet consisted of takeout and instant meals. But Mikan supposed the only difference between her and them was an awful metabolism.

After getting a tall glass of orange juice, she returned to the booth. Hopefully, Gundam wouldn’t think she was gross for eating so much, but she had such a long day and-

Her eyes went wide as Gundam set not one, not two, but three plates on the table. One piled high with fried ham, sausages and bacon, another with a stack of buttermilk pancakes that towered high, and the last one dangerously close to overflowing with fried eggs. He drenched everything in a thick layer of butter and drowned it all in enough maple syrup to fill the ocean.

“Now,” he began as he unfolded the napkin to tie around his thick neck. “let the healing ritual begin!”

They both tucked into their meals, the food tasted just as good as it smelled, better even! It immediately warmed Mikan up both inside and out and have it not been for the sound of the downpour outside, she would have completely forgotten about the rain.

“So, um... what have you been up too after graduating?” Mikan asked as she chewed on a chunk of juicy honeydew. Figuring she should try and start a conversation with him.

“I have been expanding my empire of course!” he answered, licking the runny yolk off his lips. “With so many wild and dangerous beasts in the world, my job is far from over and will probably be eternal for as long as I am in this vessel.”

“Ah, glad to know you’re still t-taking good care of animals.” Mikan smiled. “I’ve known how much you care for them.” she nibbled on a piece of bacon. “M-maybe I should get a pet... it gets kinda lonely in my apartment.”

“Be warned, beast ownership is no small task!” he warned sternly.

“O-of course!” she stuttered. “I know it’s not a decision to take lightly! I uh, promise to really think about it and-“

“Please, crease your worrying.” Gundam interrupted. “I must apologize, tis a bit of a curse I have yet to control. I have seen many attempts the quest of taming these creatures but failed and I had to carry on their failed attempt. It is no easy task and required so much of my time and energy. I need to remember you are no mere mortal considering your ability.”

“A...apology accepted.” she gave a small smile.

“Speaking of your abilities, how is your life in this realm?” he asked through a mouthful of sticky syrup covered pancakes.

“I work at the hospital not too far from here,” she said. “we’re rather understaffed at the moment, so I’ve been busy. I don’t mind... kinda.” Mikan sipped her drink. “Umm... it’s just it doesn’t leave much time for anything else if I’m completely honest. I just go straight home after a shift.”

“Ha, I too understand your endless suffering,” he spoke. “We’re in Nemean lion season, I have been summoned to offer my power and influence to try and get through this challenge.”

Nemean lion? Weren’t those some kind of mythical creature? It took a moment to figure out what he was going on about, then it clicked. Gundam was taking about kitten season. The time when most kittens were born to unsprayed cats whether they were outdoor cats (which was a big no according to Gundam) or feral cats. Naturally, this meant a lot more resources being needed from shelters and whatnot.

“You must be busy too, I haven’t been able to cook in awhile unless it’s instant,” she spoke, idly dragging the chunk of blueberry pancakes she speared with her fork through a puddle of syrup. “Probably why I’ve gained weight.”

She said it without even thinking, at first she felt guilty. Gundam has gained so much more than her, would it make him self conscious? But when he chuckled she internally let out a sigh of relief.

“I too understand the circumstances your form is going through,” Gundam said. “I have found myself in a similar position as you.”

“Oh... I hardly notice.” Mikan lied.

“Mikan, you are many things,” he began. “a skilled healer, a dear companion who I regretfully lost contact with, but you were never a good liar.”

“Sorry!” she instinctively blurted out.

“Do not dwell on it, there is nothing worthy of begging for my forgiveness currently,” Gundam reassured. “I am content with my current form, you don’t need to fret so much.”

“Ah... thank you!” Mikan spoke. “Umm, if it means anything. I think you carry it well.”

Eep! Was it weird to say that?! Did it sound too forced? It was true though! Gundam just reminded her of one of those giant stuffed teddy bears at toy stores. He looked so soft just like one, and not to mention he probably felt like one too.

“You as well,” Gundam replied.

Her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she immediately shifted her gaze from Gundam to her plate. Did Gundam see her as one of those giant teddy bears too? She only hoped her blush would eventually fade. All these years and she still wasn’t used to compliments.

As soon as they are their fill and made a few trips back to the buffet, they were comfortably full. And not only that, the rain had stopped.

“It would appear the gods had let their grip on this realm go at long last,” Gundam spoke as they exited the restaurant.

“Yeah, it’s ni-nice and warm,” Mikan said, taking a moment to soak up the warm sunshine.

“Shall we find a gatekeeper and travel back to our kingdoms together?”

“Actually... my place isn’t too far from here.” Mikan began. “It’s not you! I promise! I-I just want to enjoy the sun after all this ra-“

“You don’t need to justify enjoying this enchanted moment if I had a sufficient amount of mana I would have too.” he smiled. “However, I lost contact with you once and I rather not have this be the last time fate has us cross paths. May I offer you a way to summon me?”

“You’re phone number? Sure... I... I would love to see you again.” she smiled as Gundam scribbled his phone number on a scrap of paper.

“I think you are worthy enough to see the newest descendants from the four dark devas of destruction’s family line,” he said.

“I would love to see them.”

“Indeed, perhaps you are worthy enough to take on the quest of owning one?”

Mikan’s eyes lit up. “You...you want to give me one of them?”

“Only if I and the latest generations of the four dark devas think so!” Gundam stated. “It would involve a long series of riddles and gazing into the deepest depths of your mind to see if you are truly ready for such a task.”

“I’m free tomorrow if that works?”

“And the stars perfectly aline.” he grinned, handing her a scrap of paper with his number written down.

“May-maybe we could grab a coffee and work out the details?”

“Very well then, I accept your offer!” Gundam grinned before finally managing to get a taxi. “I look forward to it and any other future endeavours!” he called as the car drove off.

Mikan couldn’t help but smile as she looked down at the paper in her pudgy fingers. She got a number, she actually got a number and something to do on her day off! Her grin grew as she began the walk to her apartment, basking in the warm sunlight.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.4

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Steve frets over his growing interest Bucky and decides to take things to the ~next level~. Master list HERE.

Content Warning: Some truly fantastic blow jobs. Steve being neurotic about what this means for him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I’m really excited so many of you are enjoying this fic so far. I don’t know why, but I just got super invested in these characters from the start even though it’s one of my shorter fics. I was literally screeching to my best friend on daily basis while writing this LOL. So thank you for all the sweet feedback and likes and reblogs. Ya’ll make my day! XOXO - Ash

Chapter Four

They fell into a rhythm faster than either one had really expected. They text periodically throughout their days, just silly things they’d found or something about their day they wanted to laugh about or bemoan together. Thanks to Steve being able to adjust his schedule and Bucky working a basic 9-5, they were able to meet up on Friday nights for a date night and typically one other weeknight when they were both free. Sundays became their farmers market day, when they could wander around the busy market in the warm summer sun and drink entirely too many iced coffees. Despite the routine, labels were never used or brought up. Neither man quite sure how to define what they were doing. They were happy with their little routine, neither of them looking to shake things up, but there had been a few times where after weeks of second base, they both wondered when it might be time for more. Steve was terrified of finding his limit and wasn’t willing to risk what they had. Bucky was terrified of pushing Steve too fast and had bitten his tongue a few times when in the heat of the moment he had almost begged to taste Steve’s cock.

It had been over a month of swapping hand jobs and what Steve had learned was called frottage, thank you Google. Steve figured if he didn’t try to mix things up soon he’d never really know where his limit lied. And with how quickly his feelings for Bucky were developing he needed to start figuring things out fast. He was going to be in a world of pain if and when he reached the limit of what he was sexually interested in. Steve had been in rough shape when Peggy left him but the idea of leaving Bucky seemed a thousand times worse already.

Steve finally gathered the nerve to turn on his privacy mode search and look up tips on blow jobs. What he got was a horrific amount of bad porn and women's magazine articles. Most were absolute trash but he did find a few good tips. Though in the end, Steve figured he’d just have to assume what felt good being done to him would most likely feel good for Bucky. As long as he didn’t puke the second it was in his mouth, he was going to consider whatever happened progress. The idea didn’t seem too terrible in theory but Steve’s nerves were still running wild. 

They were curled up on Steve’s sofa, Bucky tracing the lines of Steve’s muscles along his chest and stomach. The movie had ended a few minutes before but neither man was willing to move just yet. Steve took a breath and decided it was do or die time. Bucky deserved someone who wasn’t trapped on second base forever. “Hey, Buck.” Steve said quietly, waiting for Bucky to look up at him, “Would it be okay if I sucked your dick? I think I could.” 

Bucky took a moment to replay Steve’s words in his head. Nope, still sounded the same. What in the actual fuck?! “Steve, honey, you don’t have to do that if you’re not ready.” Bucky assured him, “I’m so happy with you, with us. Don’t feel like you have to do this unless you really want to.” 

Steve sighed, half tempted to take the way out Bucky had offered him. “No, I want to. I do. I just… I’m worried. What happens if I don’t like doing it? If I can’t do it.”

“Then you can’t, Stevie. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not like I’d ever expect it from you. Hell, my ex probably only did it twice in the year we were together.” 

“What?” that caught Steve’s attention, “Why?” 

Bucky huffed a laugh, “Not all gay guys enjoy sucking cock. And Brock was an asshole, so who knows the real reason. I don’t really believe what he used to say. He, uh, he said a lot of things just to be hurtful.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Steve kissed Bucky softly, wondering how bad his ex really was. He never really talked about it and Steve worried it was worse than Bucky let on. “I do want to try it with you though. You don’t have to reciprocate or anything, I just need to know if I can do this. For me. I’m still trying to figure things out and I need to know.” 

“Okay, we can try. And for the record,” he added with a smirk, “I love giving head.” 

The sound Steve made at Bucky’s declaration was barely more than a high pitched whine and Bucky cackled like Satan himself with delight. 

“Come here you.” Steve cajoled him, pulling Bucky close to resume their kisses. Steve waited until Bucky was making the soft little moans he’d come to know so well. The sign that he was getting impatient and needy for Steve to get him off. Steve loved how easy it was to bring him to that point. Steve pulled back, giving Bucky’s still clothed dick a squeeze before he slipped down onto the floor between Bucky’s legs. Resting on his knees, he helped Bucky get his pants and underwear off, another pair of those silky boxers Bucky seemed to favor that made Steve want to rut up against the silky material like a madman. They had done that once a few weeks earlier. Steve had been completely naked and Bucky in only his silky boxers, they had rutted against one another through the fabric until both their orgasms had snuck up on them before they could help themselves. It had been a little embarrassing but mostly wonderful. 

Steve teased Bucky’s shaft a little, trying to work up his courage now that he was down there. Bucky’s hair was blessedly well trimmed and Steve realized he probably should have afforded the same courtesy for Bucky. He made a mental note to take care of that before the next time. If there would be a next time. A small bead of precome formed on the tip and Steve jumped on the opportunity. Leaning forward Steve lapped at the drip of liquid, waiting to see if he could get past the taste. He’d never minded going down on women but he worried a man would be just too different. To his surprise, it wasn’t awful. Not exactly something he would crave, but the bitter tang on his tongue was manageable. Encouraged, Steve braced his palms on Bucky’s hips and tentatively lowered his mouth around Bucky’s dick.

Bucky wanted to weep at the sight of Steve licking the little bead of precome off the tip of his cock. His beautiful blonde adonis settled so easily between his legs was a sight to behold. When Steve took the head into his mouth Bucky fought to stay still, letting Steve take his time and figure things out. Though much to his delight Steve figured it out pretty quickly. He barely got half the way down Bucky’s shaft with the first few eager bobs of his head but it was enough to have Bucky trembling beneath him. Steve looked up through his impossibly long lashes and Bucky about lost it. He threaded his fingers through Steve’s thick blonde hair, giving him a soft smile of adoration. Steve resumed his tentative sucking, testing how far down he could go comfortably, too afraid of gagging himself and ruining the moment. The more he bobbed the more confident he grew, carefully hollowing his cheeks to increase the suction around Bucky’s dick. He started lapping his tongue along the underside too, reveling in the way Bucky completely lost his composure when he did that. 

There was something powerful being able to bring Bucky to a babbling mess with a few swipes of his tongue. Giving head was nothing like Steve had feared it would be. It was better than he could have expected and he found that the things he’d always loved about going down on a woman, he loved about going down on Bucky. The trembling thighs bracketing his head, the deep earthy scent of being at someone’s core, the trust it took for someone to let him do this, even the way curly short hairs tickled his nose when he pressed in deep. Steve felt himself getting worked up as he continued and he reached down for a moment to push his growing erection down with the heel of his hand. He wondered briefly if maybe next time he could multitask enough to get himself off while going down on Bucky. Because there was damn well going to be a next time at this rate.

Bucky knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he’d wanted to as soon as Steve started experimenting with his tongue. He wanted to give Steve as much warning as he could but all that he could come up with was filthy praise. “God, Stevie,” he panted out, half delirious, “That’s so good, honey. God just like that, yeah. Oh god you’re so good at that. Driving me wild, honey.” 

Steve made a muffled happy noise at the praise and the vibrations in his throat went straight to Bucky’s dick. He keened, trying to hold back his eminent release. “Stevie.” he pleaded, “Stevie wait. I’m gonna. Shit honey, I can’t… I’m gonna.” 

Steve was undeterred knowing what was, quite literally, coming next. He took Bucky in as deep as he could, figuring that would be easiest, and gave one last burst of intense suction until Bucky was coming down his throat, hot and fast. It was startling but after he got past the initial shock it was over before he could really mind. Steve pulled back once Bucky finished, settling back to sit on his heels with a smug grin on his face. Bucky, on the other hand, looked positively wrecked. 

“Jesus God, honey.” Bucky finally rasped out in disbelief. “That was…” he shook his head, “That was perfection.” 

“I did okay?” Steve forced himself to ask, needing to ensure he really had done an at least passable job. He was still a little breathless, his dick half chubbed in his pants and growing as he took in Bucky’s post orgasmic glow. 

“Better than okay. You were amazing.” Bucky reached out and took both of Steve’s hands in his, needing to ensure he was alright.  “Are you okay though? Really? That wasn’t too much or anything? You really didn’t have to swallow.” 

“It was fine,” Steve answered truthfully, “I loved seeing you so blissed out like that, knowing I was the one making you feel that way. And swallowing was over before I could really process it, so no big deal.” 

“You are one in a fucking million, Steve Rogers.” Bucky shifted forward so he could kiss his man, so overwhelmed with affection for him. He pulled him up after a few heated kisses, wanting to feel those solid muscles crowding him in. Bucky raised an eyebrow as Steve leaned himself up and onto Bucky. “Um,” he tried not to chuckle, “It seems like someone really did enjoy himself.”

Steve blushed lightly, hiding his face in the curve of Bucky’s neck, “Mhm. I, uh, I enjoyed it quite a bit.” 

At that Bucky did let out a short cackle, raining kisses down on Steve’s blushing face, “You’re a fucking gem. God, I…” Bucky cut himself off with a sharp cough. “A real fucking gem, honey.” He added somewhat lamely.

Steve was oblivious to Bucky’s misstep, practically preening under the affection and praise, still teetering on the edge of full arousal. He would have been more than happy to continue skirting that edge, Bucky’s hand rubbing against him lightly while they necked like teenagers. But Bucky was not going to pass up the opportunity to get Steve’s cock in his mouth at last. He wasn’t exaggerating when he’d bragged he loved sucking cock. He truly did. Every part of it, too. And because of his enthusiasm he’d had plenty of practice over the years. Bucky was thankful for that practice, too, because even after the newness of Steve had started to wear off, he was still convinced Steve had the absolute most beautiful cock he’d ever seen. It was like going from the minors to the big leagues, he mused happily.

“Hey, honey.” he crooned in between kisses, “Can I return the favor?”

“Hm?” Steve murmured, confused.

“I’ve been dying to get your cock in my mouth for weeks. Please? Let me return the favor?” 

Steve’s choked off moan was answer enough but he forced out his words, “Yeah. God, yeah, Buck. But only if you want to.” 

“Oh I want to. Believe me. I’d have to be crazy not to want you.” 

Steve huffed a light laugh as Bucky drug the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs down, moving himself down the length of Steve’s body in the process. He was fully hard and the head slapped against the hard V shaped plane of his lower stomach, leaving a trail of precome where it landed. 

Bucky had his mouth around the head of Steve’s cock seconds after tossing his clothes to the side. He wasn’t about to waste any time and he wanted to make sure this was a blow job Steve would never forget. He pulled out all his best tricks, alternating suction and speed, letting his hands knead at Steve’s balls while his mouth deep throated him like a champ, even running his nails along Steve’s inner thighs while dragging just the slightest hint of bottom teeth along the underside of his cock. Steve was barely coherent after the last one and Bucky wondered if anyone had ever played with Steve’s ass before. His whole body shook fiercely when Bucky’s hands would glance over his taint and brush over the curve of his ass right behind it. Bucky was tempted, so tempted, and while he was still worried about freaking Steve out, if he played his cards right Steve was in for one hell of a treat.

Bucky started his exploration slow, keeping his mouth busy with a steady holding pattern of torture. Enough that Steve was still making those gorgeous little noises in the back of his throat, but not enough that he was in danger of coming. It gave him enough time to sneak his index finger along Steve’s taint and then slip between his ass cheeks for a quick flick.

Steve’s whole body jerked when the pad of Bucky’s finger ghosted over his surprisingly sensitive hole. It was unexpected but felt too good for him to object. Steve knew if he spoke up Bucky would stop, but in the heat of the moment he wanted to ride it out to see where things went. He trusted Bucky wouldn’t push him too hard too fast, so he just focused on trying to stay in his seat and not choking the poor beautiful man between his legs with an unintended thrust. 

Bucky wanted to cheer at Steve’s reaction and it emboldened him to keep exploring. He let the tip of his finger flutter against Steve’s hole as he continued to suck his shaft down as deep as he comfortably could. He cupped Steve’s balls with his other hand, adding that sensation to the mix as well with stellar results. 

“Shit,” Steve keened, “Buck, baby, shitshitshit. I’m gonna…”

Bucky just nodded as he bobbed his head, fully aware of where Steve was at and what he needed to do to take him over the edge. Pressing firmly with the tip of his finger he pushed ever so slightly into Steve’s hole, not enough to breach that tight ring of muscle inside but enough to be felt. Steve was writhing and then Bucky wiggled his finger, just gently, while hollowing out his cheeks and giving Steve’s balls a squeeze. 

Steve shattered. 

It was too much all at once and he came with a broken sob as his body shook almost violently. He had no control over his limbs or his voice as great sobbing moans broke free from his chest. His body trembled even after his orgasm began to fade and Bucky clamored up onto the sofa next to him. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve from the side, tugging him close and holding on to him tightly. It took a long minute for Steve to compose himself and for the world to really come back into to focus for him. But when he finally did, it was to Bucky holding him, rubbing soothing circles on his back with one hand, and whispering sweet nonsense in his ear. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so protected and cherished. Tears prickled at his eyes and he didn’t dare speak until he was certain he could trust his voice. 

Bucky noticed as Steve became more aware of himself, but he pretended to ignore the little tears that welled in the corners of the other man’s eyes. Steve sniffed harshly, letting out a long woosh of a breath. “That was….” he trailed off, at a loss for adequate words.

Bucky grinned and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, cuddling in a little. “Told ya I love giving head.” 

“You’re like the fucking king of it. My knees are still all tingly.” 

“Aww, honey. It wasn’t too much, was it? I know we didn’t talk about ass play yet but I figured a little tease wouldn’t hurt.” 

“I’m glad we didn’t.” Steve admitted quietly, “I probably would have psyched myself out of it. And it was… okay? Good?” 

“Thank you, for trusting me like that. We should talk about it, though. Figure out what you’re willing to try, and go at a pace you’re comfortable with. It can be so good, honey, you got no idea.” 

“Oh, I got a little bit of an idea.” Steve laughed. 

Bucky chuckled with him, “Yeah, I guess you did. I won’t rush you though, promise. We can take as long as you need.” 

“I don’t-” Steve started and stopped with a frown, “I don’t know how long that’ll be, Buck. I’m sorry. I want to be better for you but I’m still a little scared.” 

Bucky’s heart was bursting at Steve’s admission. “I know, and it’s okay. We’ll go at your pace. And I’m not asking you to bottom for me. I prefer that myself, actually.” 

Steve groaned a little imagining Bucky coming apart underneath him while he fucked the smaller man into the mattress. He was getting ahead of himself but it was a damn nice image. “We’ll get there.” Steve promised to him, as much as to himself. 

They stayed curled up for a little longer until the air conditioning proved too strong and they both pulled their pants back up over goosebumped legs. Bucky begged off after that, to both of their disappointments. It was late and reasonably they both needed sleep but still, Bucky knew it wouldn’t be long until one of them cracked and they started spending the night together. 

Steve looked around his apartment after Bucky headed out, painfully aware of how empty and silent it was. Part of him wished he’d asked Bucky to stay. Not that he could have, he didn’t have overnight stuff with him, but Steve hated going to bed alone after such a nice evening. That had been the hardest part of adapting to life post-Peggy, sleeping alone again. She had never been much of a cuddler, much to Steve’s disappointment, but she at least warmed the other side of his too big bed. 

As Steve curled up in still too big bed, he worried that things with Bucky were all going to be over in a blink. That things were destined to become just a distant memory of the time Steve had tried something different for a while. His heart ached thinking about it. But what was the alternative? He and Bucky actually made it work? He would come out as gay? Bi? To all his friends and coworkers? Explain that no he hadn’t lost his mind, it really just took him thirty years of life to realize he liked men. Would he and Bucky slowly merge their things until they were practically living together? Would his early class day alarm drive Bucky crazy three days a week? Would he bring flowers home after exasperating Bucky over something silly like forgetting to fold his clothes or leaving dishes in the sink? Would Bucky save him a warm plate of dinner on the nights he had to work late? Steve’s mind swam with possibilities he’d never really let himself consider before. He knew it was foolish to dream, that this was a nice fantasy but he’d soon have to get back to real life, as much as it pained him. Still, despite the warnings he gave himself, Steve drifted off to sleep with the dreams of early morning cuddles and quiet late night conversations in his mind. 

[elliepassmore]

The Darkest Minds Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: dystopian, powers, road trips, found families TDM is one of those books you can just keep coming back to after years and still like it. I'm not sure if it's the road trip aspect to it or the realism or just that it's so damn good, but every time I think it's drifted off my favorites list, I'm reminded again in some way that I love the book. I think the way Bracken set up the world is fascinating. The story starts in flashbacks, and we see Ruby's first experience with death and with IAAN. The way the disease and the camps are built up I can actually see how one thing led to another which led to this alternate!USA that's basically a military dictatorship that put all the still-living kids in concentration camps (it would be funny if it wasn't sad how premonitory this aspect of the story is). The world has classified the kids based on the old State Department terrorist warning system, so Green is the least dangerous (just super smarts) and Red is the most dangerous (pyrokinesis). In the middle there's Blue (telekinesis), Yellow (electrokinesis), and Orange (mind control), though the government has done a damn good job of erasing all the Red and Orange kids. I like how the sense of bleakness and dystopia in the book also exudes a sense of freedom and 'anything's possible' at the same time. The first setting we see is Thurmond, one of the camps for the living kids, now dubbed 'Psi kids' for their powers. Thurmond is basically a bleak landscape that rotates between work and sleep with a thorough washing of mud and rain mixed in with fear and hatred. Bracken makes the setting visceral and it feels like you're there when Ruby is. The next setting we get is 'out in the world,' which doesn't turn out to be the boon Ruby thinks it is as, mentioned above, the US is basically a military dictatorship at this pointand the economy has down turned, meaning there's more ghost towns than not and just about everyone and their grandmother is looking for a Psi kid to bag and get a reward for. Ironically, this is the best and happiest setting out of all three, since this is where we're on the road trip in a very beat up black van called Black Betty after the song. Finally, there's East River, a safe haven for Psi kids by Psi kids. There, there is no color classification system and, while everyone works for their share, everyone seems happy and free. Beyond the setting, there's so many fantastic quotes in this book, from the first line of the first chapter (not the prologue): "Grace Somerfield was the first to die" (3), to the last paragraph of that chapter: "The government was never scared of the kids who miught die, or the empty spaces they would leave behind. They were afraid of us--the ones who live" (8), to the line that gives the book its title: "the darkest minds tend to hide behind the most unlikely faces" (456). The writing is in an interesting style I'm not quite sure how to classify. At times it seems like Ruby is directly talking to the reader, while at other times it's clear she isn't. But beyond that, there's just a richness to the writing that I enjoy. Obviously, all the kids are traumatized by their circumstances in one way or another. Ruby is afraid of her powers and of letting anyone touch her, and she's also generally mistrustful of the world that she's seen. Liam is definitely an optimist and wants to believe the best of everyone and the world, but there are definitely moments when it gets to be too much for him and he isolates himself. Chubs is cynical and extremely mistrustful (and feels a lot of guilt). Zu lives out her traumatic memories in her dreams, and has chosen to be nonverbal as a way of control. Other characters we see also have issues pertaining to the world around them. Ruby has a desire to protect people, but is also still wants the peace and freedom she believes she can find by living with her grandmother. Despite her wariness of the world, she is a tad too trusting of the other kids she finds in it, so long as they aren't obvious about the danger they pose. I did like that Bracken included bits in the beginning about Ruby having trouble socializing, even with other kids, because it had been so long since she'd actually communicated with anyone outside Thurmond. Liam definitely wants to protect and help other kids, sometimes to the point of putting himself in harm's way. He's extremely trusting, as both Ruby and Chubs point out, and likes to see the best in everyone and every situation. As the story unfolds, we see he has a lot of guilt over something that happened at his, Chubs', and Zu's camp, Caledonia, but he's still trying to make the world better for other kids. Liam's a refreshing character since, despite his optimism, he understands that nothing will ever be normal again, but he holds onto the hope that it can at least get better, and I feel like a lot of optimistic characters in books, especially dystopian ones, tend to be blindly or naively optimistic. Chubs is the most cynical of their group, and pretty much hates Ruby in the beginning simply for the danger she puts the others in by proximity. Once Ruby gets past his walls, however, it's obvious he cares a lot about the people he considers 'his,' and is willing to go to the mat to defend them. He wants the world to be better, but I don't think he necessarily believes in it like Liam does. He's definitely the bookish, mom friend, always reading or having knowledge about one thing or another and chastising the others when they do something that could get them killed or hurt. Out of all of them, I also think Chubs is the funniest and has some of the wittiest, if not the wittiest, lines in the book. Zu is alsohilarious. She has a way of expressing herself, either through facial expressions or writing that makes her a fun character to read. Despite everything, she's still so innocent in the world, and is the youngest of the group at 12, and it shows in the little things, like her picking out a bright red dress for Ruby to wear while they're on the run or how she'll sass the boys about one thing or another. Despite being light-hearted, Zu's also good at getting to the center of heavier subjects quickly and being serious when she needs to. Zu's one of my favorite characters in the series and I'm glad she got her own solo book. Relating to characters, one of the things I love most about this book is that Bracken gives us several antagonists. At large, the main antagonist is the world around the Black Betty gang. On the smallest scale, though, we have mini-antagonists that are the tribes of kids roaming around that don't necessarily have others' best intentions at heart as well as the League, who remain in the background but therethroughout the story. Then somewhere in the middle we have the other two antagonist characters. One, Lady Jane, is the skip tracer who caught Liam the first time and is after them again (and is very good at it). And the other is *SPOILER* Clancy Gray, aka the Slip Kid, who turns out to be the antagonist no one was expecting. He's a psychopath (clinically, imo, but the book doesn't actually say that) and has no problem manipulating Ruby and the others with his Orange powers, nor does he have any problem turning the kids of East River over to the PSFs. It's great because Bracken makes us hate him more than the other antagonists, despite him only being in the story for like, 10 chapters. *SPOILER END*. Liam Short-Story from Back of 2018 TDM Paperback Ed. 4/5 stars Liam feels younger in this story than I think he actually is. If I'm getting the timeline right, and he was with the League before he went to Caledonia, and he was in Caledonia for a year, then he's 16 or 17 in the story, around the same age Ruby is in the main one, but he feels younger, somewhere between 13 and 15. There are parts where he feels older, but mainly he feels like a kid. The story gives good background information on Liam, Cole, and the League. The story really goes to show how soft Liam is, even as a kid or in the League. There's a scene where he describes fighting back against some kids who were beating him up and how he bloody well felt guilty about it. True to character, though, he thinks the best of the League and the people in it until some pieces of info are dropped that aren't supposed to be and he ends up realizing the League is shit. In terms of the League, it's definitely as bad as Liam claims and Ruby realizes in TDM. In this story, they train kids to fight and go on ops, but not to use their powers or think for themselves. The training and the punishments associated with it are another kind of punishment, another kind of control over the 'freak kids' IAAN has left untouched. It's a military/assassination organization and it feels like it. It feels angry and vengeful and gross in that way places can have a trace of emotion. Finally, there's Cole. He only shows up a little in the story, but when he is there damn is he an asshole. It sounds like he inherited his and Liam's bio-dad's temper and lashes out when things don't go his way or when he's frustrated. Having read the rest of the series, I can say I feel bad for Cole and situation he's found himself in, but at the same time, I'm not sure if rage and lashing out are the best ways to deal with it.

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 3

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 07/24/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 1,833 words

A/N: Hope you’re excited! Any theories yet? It’s posted early because I have plans for tomorrow and intended to post it then. Probably wait five days before posting the next part, if not a week.

Jimin stroked your hair, watching your every movement as you sipped some ginger ale. “Better, chubs?” You nodded. “It was probably the artifact Tae and I recovered combined with my worry. Nothing to worry about.” “Of course we worr—” Jimin broke off, dropping his gaze, “Worry. I’m sorry, y/n. You were already worried about me, and Joon-hyung, and…and you—” You put a finger to his lips. “You should try to sleep.” He looked a little like a kicked puppy. “But—” “Jimin-ah, I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Please. I get that you don’t like conflict to remain, but there’s going to be even more if you push me right now.” He slowly nodded. “Okay, chubs. Cuddle with me?” You nodded, laying back and lightly holding onto Jimin. It was a good way of knowing that he was just worried about you instead of being upset with you. He craned his neck to get his kisses, then lay back with a slight smile when he received it. You matched his breathing, waiting until he had fallen deeply asleep, then glancing back. Yoongi nodded, climbing over and carefully taking your place. You slid off the bed, checking on Namjoon, who was half-asleep on the other bed. He caught your hand, squeezing it and pulling it so he could get a kiss. “Feel better?” “Yeah, you?” He nodded. “Hoseok gave me some herbs and painkillers.” “Good. Rest up,” You whispered, giving him a second kiss. Taehyung and Jungkook were eating in the next room, the one you sent Taehyung to get. Whatever they were eating smelled…absolutely terrible. You gagged a bit and closed the door, plugging your nose. “You okay?” You wrinkled your nose. “What the heck are they eating?” “Grilled chicken alfredo,” Hoseok answered, still looking concerned. “Your favorite. You must be really sick. You don’t like ginger outside of ginger-ale, so maybe catmint or peppermint…” He started muttering, feeling your forehead. “I really don’t want to consume anything right now, Hobi.” You tucked into his chest grateful he had come from taking a shower. He didn’t smell like anything but Hobi, and his chest had a comforting warmth to it. “I was planning on sleeping in there.” He hummed softly. “What smells are okay?” You shrugged, then sniffed your hand. “Citrus. I think peppermint.” He nodded. “Let me and the other two try and clean out the smell. If we can’t, are you okay sharing with Joon?” You nodded. You had told Jungkook that you wanted to have your own bed. You just needed space. Space to calm down. Space to worry. Space that should be filled by Jin. Space to punish yourself for not protecting your loves better. You had put off finding more protections for them, thinking they might find it a little overbearing and worrying that your love for them might cause you to overstep the bounds of your duty as an archivist. What if you used an artifact to protect them, and ended up hurting others because of it? But now Jin was missing, and even if you didn’t think he was in danger…Namjoon said Jin had been hurt. And who knew who had taken him, and for what reason. For all you knew it could be like what happened with your father. Oh God. “Tinny? Is your stomach bothering you that badly?” Hobi slouched to meet your eye, gently wiping your cheeks. You wiped a tear from your own face, staring at it. “No. It isn’t. I’m just…” You shook your head. “I don’t even know. I mean, I’m crying. Again. I’m broken. Why am I broken?” “Your voice just squeaked and it was adorable—no wait, don’t cry more!” “It’s not cute, it’s annoying and wrong and ugh!” “Sshhh,” He hushed you gently. “Jimin and Namjoon are asleep. We don’t want to wake them.” You pressed your face into his shoulder. “What’s wrong with me?” You asked, unable to push back the tears. “You’re sick and stressed, and I’m sure you’re tired and worried. I think you should just try and sleep, Tinny. Okay? Yoongi and Namjoon can help you figure out the songs you need in the morning. Do you want pajamas or are you okay in Jungkook’s t-shirt?” “I’m okay.” He guided you to the other side of Namjoon’s bed, helping you lay down under the covers. “You want me to hold your hand until you fall asleep?” You nodded, feeling calmer. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why….” He kissed you gently when you didn’t continue. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Just try and sleep, baby. Cuddle Joon if you feel sad again.” You nodded, closing your eyes. You were tired, and crying always gave you a headache. Maybe sleep was a better choice. You wiggled over so that you were next to Namjoon, squeezing Hobi’s hand. You opened your eyes as light shone brightly through your eyelids. You were in some sort of stone room, cold air greeting you where you had been warm next to Joon just seconds earlier. It felt foreign and familiar at the same time. There were no lights or windows, but the room was mostly lit. You looked at each blank wall, but the only thing that you really noticed was that the walls were the light source, and some other part of your brain was saying that you already knew that. “Nightingale,” A voice called behind you. You froze. “Nurya Cohen.” “You may face me, Archivist.” You slowly turned to her. “Working with that artifact you swore would stay locked up?” She looked to the floor, the glow about her dying down slightly. “Slicha, ani lokeakh et mlo ha’achrayut.” “I still don’t speak Hebrew.” “Sorry, I take full responsibility,” She translated, dipping her head. “But I should hope you know I would not go back on my word unless circumstances called for it.” “As a light priestess, I would hope not.” She turned, gesturing for you to follow. You fell in step with her, out into her sanctuary. Last you had seen her was when her healer friend had, well, healed you after your crash from the top of the building three years ago. She had come to you, so the last time you had been to the sanctuary was when you had dropped the artifact with her. Too big for you to move around, but perfectly hidden in her sanctuary. Which was a temple of light and healing, a place where some astronomy students also conducted their studies. It had surprisingly strong security despite being a pacifist group. “We have a metupal in our infirmary. One of yours, I believe.” She folded her hands in front of her, similar to how an opera singer might. “Actually, we are mostly certain.” “Oh?” You frowned, trying not to get your hopes up that it was Jin. “He keeps rambling about dorchadas and something about an oasis. He also said that the kids were in danger and he had to tell you, Nightingale.” “Dorchadas? Are you certain?” You frowned. “You know what it is?” “It’s Irish. For darkness.” She looked more troubled. “And the oasis mentioned?” You shook your head. “Not sure. Not even sure what kids he could mean. I keep an eye on multiple children’s homes.” “Well, he wouldn’t lay still until I assured him I would pass the message to you. But I also contacted you because of the rumors that we heard just before his arrival. Rumors of a dark organization that works to remove the powers of supers, one that had been disbanded, but are now active again. And that they had found a former patient.” She paused, glancing at you as you froze. “Nightingale?” “The Oasis Initiative,” You breathed. Both of you were silent, but she looked at you as if waiting for further response. “Cursing is a little inappropriate here so you better continue.” “Quid pro quo.” You made a slashing gesture, making a face as you tried to think of how to explain it. “After you finish.” “Very well. One of our watchers got the pictures and information of the patient. It’s Siphon, or Laguz as you know him. However, another group also got the information—” “The Conservatory,” You guessed. Everything made sense now. They probably sent rookies because they thought it would be a basic abduction followed by an explanation that it was for his safety. They probably only heard whispers of a threat and given their penchant for watching out for their own (one of the few points you couldn’t find fault with) went to make sure that the whispers couldn’t be carried out. She nodded. “I know you dislike the place—I don’t blame you—but if this Oasis Initiative is functioning again….” “Then we all need to be ready for the worst. And we’ll need a strong base of operations, like the Conservatory. I trust you to send a representative as well?” She dipped her head. “Of course, Archivist. I will give you the head-start. Be advised, though, you should put distance between yourself and this fight.” Everything was getting blurry and the panic—that was a side effect of the artifact—started rising in your body. “Why? And who’s in the infirmary?” You managed to choke out. Her gaze flit to your midsection before the dream shattered like glass. Strong arms had you pinned down. “Y/n!” You finally opened your eyes, almost throwing up, but somehow managing to choke it down long enough to free yourself and run to the bathroom. Someone pulled your hair back. “Maybe she should see a doctor,” One of them said softly. You sat back, panting a little. “Tae, can you get me my makeup bag?” “Yeah.” “Makeup? Honey, I don’t think that’s—” “You’re right, you don’t think of me having anything else in my makeup bag, but I do. Now, Hoseok, I love you, but get out. Same goes to you, Kook, and you, Yoongi. Nothing to see here.” You got to your feet, reaching to flush the toilet before shakily stepping over to the sink to brush your teeth. You scrunched your nose, frustrated with yourself. “I’m sorry. I just…I need a minute.” “Okay,” Jungkook said. “We’ll keep the food in the other room. Do you want some toast?” You nodded. Tae handed you your bag. You closed the door behind him, taking a couple deep breaths to steady yourself before going to the bottom of your bag and pulling the pregnancy test out. “Please be wrong,” You muttered. You waited the appropriate amount of time, trying to count how long it had been since you had had your last visit from Aunt Flo. This would be the worst timing ever. You didn’t want to be sidelined. Not if the Oasis Initiative was active again. You glanced at the time on whoever’s watch you had found sitting on the counter, then looked at the test.

~~~~~

Part 2.   Part 4.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

[3laxx]

Wind update 13

The new boy tries his best TM

Yo suckers

I'm back out of the blue with a chapter because canon material is pissing me off and I got inspired I guess lol Also it's been a year hahah Anyway I doubt anyone is still reading this story but whateverrrrr Imma just post wheneverrrr Also it's like 2am here don't judge me and I haven't written in actual freaking months so Oh well Let's pretend I can still write, someone is still reading this, and we're in the happy times of 2016 before the US elections and ML season 2 weeeeeeeeeeee

Ao3 / FF.net

As Carapace closed in on the fight he gulped heavily, his heart beating hard and strong against his ribcage. He was alive, he was fighting and he was well armored. He should be fine.

Right?

Suddenly he felt Alya’s fingers on his chest again, her gentle caress on the tiny scar that stayed from Hawkmoth’s sword. A wave of confidence and fear washed over him, a powerful mixture when running in battle, he realized.

Suddenly, in front of him him he felt the warmth of the fire that Flamethrower spread across the street, and just a second later he was greeted by the flickering hell in white, yellow, orange and red that expected him. He sucked in a sharp breath and jumped before his courage would leave him, spreading his arms to keep his balance in the air while he fell.

If he had stopped at the edge of the rooftop, he knew he wouldn’t have jumped in.

He came down behind the Akuma, silently and with a clenched jaw as he eyed their back. Ladybug spotted him quickly, nodding at him just enough for him to see, then he made eye contact with Chat Noir. His teammate gestured for him to stay on the side, he would probably lure the Akuma towards him.

Immediately, the fear was back. Carapace felt his throat blocking up but with a forced breath, he was back in the game. A stinging feeling spread through his lungs but he couldn’t let that stop him now.

The Akuma would stumble right into him, okay. He’d have to get ready for acting now.

With a precise hit, Chat forced the Akuma’s flamethrower up, so they’d lose aim and stumble back, then he shot the newest team member a look and Carapace knew that was gonna be his sign.

Holding his breath, he jumped and grabbed the flamethrower, kicking into the Akuma’s back.

With the surprise as an advantage, the Akuma lost their footing for a second, but the villain quickly caught himself, then they turned to Carapace, successfully twisting their weapon out of his hold and snarling with a grin as the violet outline of a butterfly mask appeared on their face.

“Ooooh…”, they smugly drawled as they closed in on Carapace, making him gulp and walk backwards, “Well, who do we have here? You’re new, apparently. Hawkmoth heard about a new team member, but I gotta say-”

With a broad grin, they listened while Hawkmoth talked.

“Yes, Hawkmoth didn’t expect a slightly overweight teenager. What, you think you can fight against me, coward?”

Carapace protectively hugged his sides, pouting, not knowing where the hell he suddenly took the ability to bite back at that.

“Hey! I’m not overweight, that’s just a little chub.”

A huge relief washed over him as he heard Chat laugh shortly before Ladybug cast her Lucky Charm, then his friend pounced on the Akuma and forced them down on the floor.

“Don’t let them talk shit about you, Cara!”

That really tickled out a smile as Carapace moved again, taking a run up and joining Chat since the Akuma jumped up again, imitating the heroes fighting style of trying to land a few fast hits.

Well, he really tried.

Since he didn’t have any experience in close combat, he more or less just relied on his superhero reflexes to not get hit in return, then he finally remembered he had a shield.

As soon as he felt the familiar weight of the heavy shield on his arm, he felt way more natural with his role, fighting suddenly appearing a little easier to him as he started using the shield as an extension of his arm.

“Thanks, Chat! I’ll just ignore they don’t have a model body like yours, either.”, that made his friend pause for just a moment, and Carapace realized he maybe shouldn’t have compared his physique to his actual job, but it was already too late then, “Well I mean, look at yourself. I really do look like a teenager next to you!”

Chat seemed a little more at ease now, since Carapace had smartly insinuated that he couldn’t be a teenager anymore, but the Akuma still got a small opening in combat to punch him so hard, Chat tumbled down the road, giving them a chance to make another move on Ladybug.

Faster than Carapace could react, they stormed at Ladybug and began using their flamethrower again since they had the chance again, and interrupted her thinking up a plan to defeat them.

Immediately, she was forced to fight them, Chat was still trying to get up, and Carapace once again felt his palms getting cold and sweaty.

No, no, not again. Not right now.

One panic attack today was enough.

Shit, what to do, what to do…

At that moment, Wayzz nudged him, making him take another step.

“Wa-wait, I-… I don’t even know what to do right now!”

His Kwami didn’t seem to care as he nudged him again, a feeling telling him he should be running already, fighting alongside Ladybug, or at least helping up Chat Noir.

Something told him he should be out and about, but for some reason, his legs felt like concrete and his heart was beating way too fast.

Until he heard Ladybug calling out to him.

“Carapace, get a move on!!”, she shouted at him, busy with holding off the Akuma, “Go help Chat!”

With a start, Carapace snapped out of it and finally sprinted down the road, past the fight, and helped up his friend who needed another moment to get back to himself.

“Need to get to the sidelines for a bit, Chat?”

The blonde in his arms groaned, his knees shaking and his claws digging into Carapace’s suit while he tried to desperately stay upright.

“N-No, I-…”, the more experienced hero tried but Carapace fell right into his words.

“I take that as a yes. Come on, man, I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

He hooked Chat’s arm around his shoulders and jumped away, a few streets down, where he ran into Alya, much to his surprise.

“Hey, you! Civilians shouldn’t be that close to the fight!”, he called out, not realizing that she didn’t exactly know him yet. Her widened eyes, and then her smile, made him gulp immediately as he remembered.

“You’re the new one! Good to meet you, actually, I-”

With a firm shake of his head, Carapace lowered the still dazed Chat to the ground and cut off her words.

“Look after him for a moment, he hit his head. He’ll be fine in a bit again.”

Alya was about to say something else, but as quickly as she kneeled down by Chat, Carapace was already off again, now finally feeling more confident in fighting the Akuma.

Having seen Alya, and most of all, having no choice but to help now since Chat was gonna be out of commission for a little, made him forget overthinking and rely on his instincts.

Upon arriving at the battlefield, where he noted a few more burned houses, he saw Ladybug visibly deflating in relief because she saw him returning without Chat.

“That stupid cat always gets himself distracted easily.”, she shouted over to him and Carapace laughed, shrugging and joining her side.

“I gotta admit, it was kinda my fault.”, he confessed but she didn’t scold him more than sending him a short glare.

“Well then you keep your head in the fight, at least. I’m not in the mood to fight alone.”

Just as she said that, she kicked the Akuma and sent them flying back a few feet, enabling them to pull out their flamethrower again.

“Shi-”

“I WILL DESTROY YOU NOW, LADYBUG!!”, the Akuma laughed maniacally as Ladybug lifted her arms to protect herself, but the heat never reached her. In confusion, she opened her eyes again and saw Carapace standing in front of her, holding up his shield to protect them.

“… I think now would be a good time to think up a plan?”, he prodded, nodding at the Lucky Charm, a small hard soap, that she held in her hand.

“Well, I roughly know what to do, but I don’t know if we can pull it off without Chat!”

Carapace groaned and pushed against the flames before the Akuma stopped firing and allowed him to front flip towards them, to land one of two hits with his shield.

“… So we have to hold them off for a bit longer?”

Ladybug shrugged, running to the side to attack the Akuma with her yo-yo from a wider range, allowing her to do harder hits with her weapon.

“Seems so! I need Chat’s cataclysm!”

As the fight continued on, Carapace slowly began to get the hang of fighting with a shield and having a rhythm with Ladybug, seeing opportunities where to cut in and get a hit and where to protect her instead. Shortly into the fight, Chat joined them again as well, still a little dizzy but overall seeming okay again.

“Are you okay, kitty?”, Ladybug still asked, wanting to get reassurance that he was feeling up for fighting, yet Carapace already knew Alya would never let Adrien go up against an Akuma again if he wasn’t at least standing on his own two feet.

“I’m fine, my lady, just a little shaken up. Now, where were we?”

Carapace chuckled as he watched Ladybug restraining herself from giving her boyfriend a short clap on the back of his head for suggesting a conversation during fighting again, not to worsen his situation, then he noticed something else.

A flash of orange and brown snuck past the edge of his vision, way too close to the fight to be save, and as he turned, he definitely recognized Alya cowering behind some garbage bins, holding out her phone to record but not caring about any safety distance.

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to his teammates, but they were too caught up in the fight to give him any attention and apparently, they hadn’t noticed Alya yet.

With a sigh he turned, already wanting to evacuate her, as he felt a wave of heat hit his back, then he saw the flames lashing out on his side, closing in to him quickly.

It was hot, yes, but what worried him more was Alya being in the line of fire, suddenly. Especially, as the Akuma closed in on him.

Thinking quickly, he leapt forward, pulling up his shield to do a roll, then he turned and landed inn front of Alya in a three pointer, yelling before Ladybug and Chat even realized what was happening.

“Shellter!”

Immediately, a green force field built up around them and engulfed them completely, forming a sphere of protection around him and Alya. The flames hit the shield and licked up the walls of his superpower, but they couldn’t reach them anymore.

Slowly, he inched back to Alya and shot a glance over his shoulder, seeing her lowering her phone, hopefully to stop recording. With wide eyes, she watched the flames raging around them, then her gaze slowly found his as he turned to her a little more now, curiosity flaring up in her brown eyes.

“Who-… Are you?”, she asked, and he knew she didn’t mean his secret identity. She was too smart to be asking about that, especially with what happened to Adrien and Marinette half a year ago.

“… I got a Miraculous recently.”, he responded, trying to stay vague.

“I know Chat Noir and Ladybug personally.”, she clarified and he was once again reminded that she had no idea who he was. On the other hand, she just reassured him that she had definitely stopped recording, “… And Master Fu. Why did he give you the Miraculous now?”

Steeling his eyes up front again he furrowed his eyebrows, giving her a stiff shrug before readying himself to pounce into the fight again, since the Akuma stopped attacking the shield.

“We don’t know.”, he gave the short answer, then standing up, “When I tell you, you will run down the street as fast as you can. I don’t want you hesitating or looking back, and in no way recording. Is that clear?”

She huffed at that, not liking being ordered around, but she did at least recognize the seriousness of the situation so she stood up as well, waiting for an opening where the Akuma would lose interest or be pushed away by Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Just a few seconds later, that opening was granted. Chat distracted the Akuma while Ladybug finally figured out her plan, then Carapace dropped the shield and urged Alya to run before charging at the Akuma again.

His girlfriend at least decided to listen this time, and really ran down the streets and to a safer place, but as soon as Carapace leant back to prepare for a hit with his shield, the Akuma whirled around and planted a big fat blow to the jaw on him.

For a moment, everything became black and he felt his body being tossed against a house wall. Chat screamed something that sounded an awful lot like Cataclysm, then Carapace heard an explosion and felt his ears ringing, before he was somehow scooped up and brought away, while Ladybug purified the Akuma and used her cleansing light to repair all the burns and damage.

The one carrying him, most likely Chat, mumbled something about the Miraculous cure not being able to cure superheroes, but at least he would be cared for.

The head of the green clad boy rolled around, against Chat’s chest and his arm, in a desperate attempt to stay conscious, then he finally fell into a deep slumber.

When Nino woke up again, he immediately felt every single bone of his body ache.

Was this normal?

If this was normal, he’d seriously like to quit. If he’d have to go through this every single time an Akuma was attacking he would not be up for this job.

Ouch.

With a groan he opened his eyes, his eyelids fluttering to adjust to the light, then he groaned again and tried blinking through it. Finally, he could look around, realizing he wasn’t transformed anymore, and recognized Master Fu’s shop, the relief washing over him like a wave.

The old Master had his back turned to him, working on something that made Nino immediately relax again since it smelled so good. As he knew his Master, he was probably brewing tea at the moment.

“I was wondering when you would wake up, young Nino.”, the man finally raised his voice, his soft words only slowly getting through his humming headache, then Master Fu turned to him and smiled.

Nino had never seen such an interesting mixture of smugness, sympathy and humor in a grin, and honestly, he hadn’t thought it to be possible, but as Master Fu looked down at him with a cup of tea in his hand, Wayzz sitting on his shoulder, he saw exactly that in the expression of the old man.

“Chat told me you got quite the hit. I can see that. He brought you here unconscious, and that is not something that happens often with the suit. But do not worry, he left before you detransformed. And we’ll set your jaw right again.”, the humored twinkle in the old man’s eyes was everything to Nino.

But also, when he mentioned it, Nino realized he couldn’t talk.

His jaw was probably broken, Master Fu then continued on, and started rambling about what to do about that and that it would only take a few hours with the ancient techniques of magic. But still, Nino would have to wait that one out.

Oh well.

He could imagine worse than having a tea with an old man and sleeping for a few hours.

Especially after such an experience.

ANOTHER YEAR ANOTHER CHAP