#I mean he made a whole ass robot arm on his own | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raya-hunter01 · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday (Even thought it's Saturday)

Thank you empressdede and @whatdoeseverybodywant for the tag. This has been sitting in my drafts since December. Enjoy!!

The Christmas Present

Jey's Annual Christmas Party

“There is nothing wrong with Sefa, take that back. Your being plan mean now,” I said offended as Tori one of the new divas was talking about him as he stood across the room totally unaware, or maybe he was, and he just didn’t give a shit what people thought of him.

He always moved in silence…Guarded and the halls always cleared when they saw him coming.

“Get real Eden, it has to be something wrong with him. He just stands there like a knot on a log and doesn’t say anything. I wonder does he show emotions when he has sex or is he like a robot,” she said as Trin interrupted her public undressing of the tribal heir.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my brother-in-law, he just ain’t with the drama that ya’ll asses bring. Plus, he likes his women real, not surgically enhanced,” Trin said as I smiled at the offended look and Tori’s face before she stormed off.

“Damn tell her how you feel, Trin,” I laughed as she smiled.

“Girl, she mad because he won’t give her the time of day and he likes you,” Trin said winking at me as I shook my head at her before stealing a glance at the baby brother of the Fatu family.

I have to admit, I liked him too, but he was dangerous. They say the most dangerous man in the room is one that doesn’t know the power he has over others, and I don’t think he knows the power he truly has.

I was drawn to him, there was a sadness to him that just made me want to hold him.

The chaos of the Christmas party long forgotten as I saw him talk to his brothers for a few minutes before going upstairs.

“When are you going to tell him, you like him?’ Trin asked as I sipped on my champagne. “I’m not ready to date yet, Trin,” I said as she scoffed.

“Bullshit It’s been over a year, you need to have some fun,” she said as her thoughts echoed in my mind.

My last relationship had me leery on letting someone into my life again. It’s not every day your boyfriend cheats on you with your cousin. I’m not scared to admit that it fucked me up, but I am slowly working through it.

“I’m going to tell him Merry Christmas, then order me an uber,” I said as she smirked at me. “An uber? Girl, go upstairs and lay up under that man, stop playin’,” Trin said as I sighed.

“Uh, we are rarely home and I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight, thank you very much. Plus, I’m sure Jey don’t want folks having sex in his house,” I said giving her a hug as she laughed.

“Aye, where my hug at?” Jey asked engulfing us both in his strong arms. “I really enjoyed the party boo, but I’m about to head out,” I said as he kissed my cheek.

“Head up and see lil bro before you leave. He’s in the spare bedroom, you know where it’s at,” he said as I gave him another hug before going upstairs. The music becoming fainter as I went to the other side of the house.

How do you tell someone you want them to rearrange your insides respectively without sounding desperate. Gently knocking on the door I leaned up against the frame, my hair flowing wild and free as I anxiously waited.

“Who is it?” He asked opening the door as I smiled trying to hide my nervousness. The shocked look on his face told me all I needed to know I made the right decision to come up to see him.

“Are you alone?” I asked as he nervously gulped but couldn’t resist being a smart ass. “Oh, I got a whole party going on in here, you don’t see all these people” he said smartly as I rolled my eyes “Always the smart ass,” I whispered as he cracked a smile.

“It’s always just me, you know that,” he said as I built up my nerve.

“Well, how would you like to have a real party for two?” I asked shyly as he opened the door wider allowing me inside as I put my coat on the dresser.

“I was just listening’ to some music on the tv to unwind,” he said clearing his throat going over to turn it off. “No, leave it on,” I whispered sitting down in the chair beside the bed as he turned it down a little and sat down on the bed.

“What happened you been avoiding me all night?” I asked truly wanting to know what was wrong. “I got some shit on my mind, I had to take the kids back to their mom and they didn’t want me to leave,” he said as I sympathized with him.

“I know it gets hard but it’s going to get better, I know it is. They know you love them and just keep making sure they know that.” Reaching over I rubbed his knee in support as he stoic expression never changed but he nodded.

“I just hate I won’t get to spend Christmas with them tomorrow, but I guess I should be thankful they got to open a few of their gifts from me tonight.”

“Maybe you should call her and see could you stop in and just be there for when they open their other gifts tomorrow,” I suggested as he sighed pulling out his phone texting his ex-wife.

I hoped she lets him do that, it’s bad enough she moved the kids back here to Pensacola without him knowing.

I saw a small smile pass his face as he got a text alert. “She said I could come in the morning to see them open their gifts, and eat breakfast with them,” he said as I smiled brightly at him, truly happy for him.

“I’m glad she changed her mind, I can’t even imagine being without my baby on Christmas,” I said as he grabbed my hand, causing me to blush.

“Enough about me though, how is Kason?” he asked as I smiled brightly at the mention of my son’s name. “He’s great, my mom has him for tonight. She thought I needed the break.”

“You do, I mean your like superwoman. You make sure all our schedules are good and constantly taking care of us all. Then you’re a mom to a very busy ten-month-old. Hell, when we leave the building, your night is just getting started,” he said as I tried not to smile.

He actually was taking notice and appreciative of my work and who I was as a person.

“Yea, it does but I’m just glad Joe talked them into getting me a bus so I can bring him on the road with me. I love how kid friendly the backstage atmosphere is now under Paul’s leadership.”

“Yea, he has that part down good. Now if only the gossip mill would stop wit they shit, maybe I could walk the halls and not be judged by people that don’t even know me,” his voice trailed off.

I knew he heard the whispers of our coworkers. They were afraid of him, they bought into the persona, but I knew better. He was shy and misunderstood but it was their loss and my gain.

“I wanna dance,” I said standing up and holding my hand out to him as his eyes seemed unsure. It was almost as if he wanted to look around to see if there was anyone else in the room with us.

“Uh, with me?” he asked as nodded, not trusting my voice. “It’s a lot that comes along with this and I know you ain’t ready,” Sefa whispered his eyes piercing my soul as I yearned for him.

“Stop worrying, I’m a big girl and I know what I want,” I said unashamed as he licked his lips. “Is that right? Well, tell me again what you want beautiful,” His deep voice awakening something within me that had been doormat for far too long.

“I want to dance with you…Right here…. Right now,” I declared as he stood up pulling me close, our foreheads touching as I caressed his face.

His nervousness making me almost shy, but I knew if this was going to happen tonight, I needed to take charge. “Sefa, I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I whispered as his eyes found mine again.

Clearing his throat, I waited with bated breath for his answer. “I don’t wanna be alone tonight either,” he whispered nodding as I released the breath I was holding.

“I was hoping you would say that,” I said, my fingers playing with his beard as he caressed my hips.

Building up my courage, I tested the waters with a gentle kiss as a deep groan fell from his lips as we tasted each other.

Suddenly, Sefa pulled me closer, deepening our kiss making it even more impossible for me to gather my myself as he ravaged my mouth with his. My hands gripping the back of his shirt as I whimpered against his lips in pleasure.

His kisses, powerful and intentional as I weakened in his arms.

“Mm, Sefa”, I gasped as he released my lips. Shit, he can kiss, and he knew it by the sly smile that adorned his handsome face as we both caught our breaths.

“You sure?” he asked as I nodded, his hands caressing my face as he claimed my lips again.

“Mmm, tell me you want me and that I ain’t trippin’ right now,” he whispered, his passionate gaze making me fall even deeper under his spell.

“Yes, I want you,” I moaned as his thumb caressed my lower lip. “You want my head between your thighs eatin' that sweet pussy don’t you?”

His deep voice sending shivers down my spine as I purred in anticipation.

“Yes! Please Sefa,” I begged unashamed, yearning to be claimed as he licked his lips.

“You want all this dick up in dat pussy rearranging them tight walls don’t you?”

Fuck, he knew his power, and I was already under his spell, ready and willing as I whimpered against him unable to speak.

“Are you ready for all of me Eden, I can be a lot baby, but I promise you ain’t gon’ never forget me.”

I nodded, rendered powerless as his lips slowly descended upon mine, our kisses becoming deeper and more desperate by the second.

“Yes, take me,” I gasped finally finding my voice as we fell onto the bed. Our lips and hands exploring each other desperately. “You sure?” he whispered against my lips, as I nodded again.

“Let me here you, Eden. Do you want me?” he groaned, grabbing my hands pinning them above my head as he towered over me .

“I want you,” I moaned as a low growl fell from his lips. “I want you too,” he moaned claiming my lips again with urgency as I gasped at the intensity but welcomed it.

I was losing myself, losing myself in him and I loved it.

Whimpering against his mouth, he abruptly released my lips and let my hands go. “Why did you stop?” I panted trying to catch my breath as he searched my face for discomfort.

“I knew you weren’t ready for this; I’m moving too fast. Your scared of me, aren’t you?” he asked as I looked at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” I asked not getting how he gathered that conclusion.

“Look, I can take it alright, just tell me your scared of me like everybody els is," he said as I sat up beside him still trying to catch my breath.

“Scared of you? Boy, if anything I needed to breathe so I wouldn’t die on your ass,” I said as he looked at me in confusion.

“I’m serious Sefa, whether you know it or not, your very intense and I like it. It actually makes it hard for me to not lose myself around you,” I confessed as he searched my eyes for any deception in my words.

“I’m not scared of you Sefa, if I was, I wouldn’t have come up her,” I said reaching over and placing my hand on his knee.

“You sure you’re not scared? You would tell me, right?” he asked as I smiled at him.

“Now, if you would have asked me this last year, I would have said yes without a second thought. But, I know you now, and up under that tough enforcer attitude you’re a teddy bear,” I said getting up off the bed and going over to the table to fix me a shot of Tequilla.

“I couldn’t tell that you were scared, you chewed my ass out for not speaking to you the first time we ever talked,” he said as I laughed.

“Hell, its rude to not to say at least hello to someone when they speak to you.”

“A’ight you right, I was wrong,” he said as an idea popped into my head.

“Now, since we got that covered, how bout we get out of here and go to my house. I have a beautiful view of the beach and plenty of privacy,” I offered as he stood up slowly walking towards me.

“Going somewhere more private sounds perfect, I mean we don’t need everybody in our business,” he said as I nodded in agreement. Last thing any of us needed was the gossip mill in our business.

“I’m happy we’re on the same page, let’s get out of here.”

It was easy to sneak away as the party was in full swing, but Sefa shot Jey a text to let him know he was taking me home and would hit him up later.

The ride to my house at first was quiet but something shifted in the atmosphere as leaned over and playfully nipped at his neck as he drove.

“You playin’ a dangerous game Eden,” he growled as I smiled against his neck slowly reaching down, slipping my hands inside his sweats as he groaned.

“Mmhm, a big dangerous game at that and I can’t wait to play,” I whispered in his ear, as I slowly began to stroke him.

“Damn, you like playin’ with danger, don’t you?” he moaned as I smiled against his neck. His breathing became more ragged as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Yes, now eyes on the road, I got you,” I whispered as he groaned in appreciation. “Mm, shit… Well, go on then and do your thang.”

My mama ain’t raised no punk, so Sefa’s bout to get a preview of what’s to come. I just pray it don’t get us killed.

“Make the next right and go about two miles up the road, my house is the last one up on the hill,” I whispered in his ear as one of his hands caressed my thigh.

“I’mma tear dat pussy up, you know dat right,” he moaned. His deep voice echoing throughout the car and making me even wetter than I already was as I continued to stroke him.

“Yes, and I can’t wait,” I whispered as his grip on the wheel tightened. “Are we almost there?” he gasped as I smirked knowing he was close as I decided to talk him through it.

“You like my hands pleasing you, don’t you?” I asked as he nodded in concentration putting his other hand back on the wheel.

“Don’t hold back, I want you to let go,” I encouraged as he melted into me. “There is my house, turn in and park,” I said as he quickly pulled into my driveway, throwing the car in park and cutting it off.

"Now, keep your hands on the wheel,” I said as he turned, resting his forehead against mine, keeping his hands on the wheel as I continued to please him.

“Why did you come with me tonight?” I whispered, licking his lips as groaned catching my tongue between his lips as we shared a sloppy wet kiss.

“Mmm, you know why. Tell me why you wanted me to come?” he moaned, trying to regain control of the situation.

“I wanted you to devour this pussy,” I whispered as he moaned against my lips.

“Now you tell me why you came? Tell me Sefa,” I whispered, beginning to stroke him faster as he gasped.

“I wanted to have you all to myself and make you scream my fuckin’ name all night long,” he growled grasping my face and claiming my lips in a passionate kiss as he came.

His body trembling as he found his much-needed release. Looking handsome more than ever as he rode out his climax as I watched in awe.

Yea, he defiantly needed that, and I was happy to help.

“Damn Eden, that was-” he moaned caressing my face, not able to finish his sentence, I smiled.

“It was my pleasure,” I whispered tenderly kissing his lips.

“Now, let me see if you taste as good as you look right now,” I said as he watched me through heavy lids.

Slowly I leaned down, and licked his cum off of his stomach as he gasped in shock at my actions. Not leaving a single drop, I then slid back into my seat. “Let me see Eden, open up beautiful.” Staring innocently at him, I opened my mouth and released my tongue for him to see.

“Fuck, dats what I’m talkin’ bout. Mmhm, now swallow dat shit,” he commanded as I did as he instructed.

“Mmm, you taste good,” I whispered licking my lips as he moaned. His powerful gaze awakening the woman within me.

“You askin’ for trouble,” he hissed as I smirked, before exiting the car as he readjusted himself back into his sweats.

Anxiously, I went to unlock the front door, before turning around to see if Sefa was behind me, but he was still sitting in the car in a daze.

“Stop overthinking Sefa, it’s no rules here,” I said going inside and heading upstairs, dropping articles of clothing along the way as I made my way to my room.

Hearing his footsteps, I sat down on the side of the bed, crossing my legs wearing only my black stilettos and a smile.

In all honesty I was scared to death, but excited if that made sense.

My heart began to race as Sefa appeared in the doorway in all his naked glory. My pussy drippin’ and throbbing in anticipation, knowing at any moment he was going to completely engulf me within his flame, and I couldn’t wait.

“I see your waiting for me like a good girl,” he whispered as I smiled holding out my hand to him as he came closer.

“I see you’re ready again,” I whispered looking at his throbbing erection as he smirked. “Oh, I stay ready and you betta be ready,” he said his voice making me wet as fuck as I moaned at his words.

“Come find out,” I whispered as he took my hand and smiled. “Are you sure?” he asked once again kneeling before me as I smiled.

“More than you’ll ever know,” I said as our lips met in another passionate kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Sefa.”

“Merry Christmas, Eden” he whispered easing me back onto the bed as I welcomed all of him. His hands caressing my body as raked my nails down his back in pleasure as he nibbled and sucked on my breasts.

“Let me see if you taste as good as I imagined,” he panted moving his kisses to my stomach as I gasped. Fuck, with how this man kisses I know he can give some bomb ass head.

“Are you gon’ give it all to me like a good girl?” Sefa asked dipping his tongue into my belly button as I moaned, running my fingers through his hair.

“Yes! I’mma give it all to you,” I moaned staring down at him in anticipation as he wore a mischievous smirk as my body trembled.

“Well, let me open up my first Christmas present then,” he whispered as his head disappeared between my thighs.

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl @theninthwonder @mya2real @justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant @reignsboy19 wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy

#solo sikoa fic #solo sikoa fanfiction #solo sikoa smut #solo sikoa #sefa fatu #solo sikoa x reader #wrestling fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #wwe x yn

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eustasskidagenda · 6 months

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Just curious what kid would do with his partner if they had robotic limbs too during their rough love sessions.

If ok fem partner too

Hi hi dear, yes, always willing to write for Kid! And that was fun to write :D I hope the result will match your expectations, enjoy our favorite angry tulip and thank you for requesting. ☆

☆With a s/o who has a robotic arm

CW : f!reader, MDNI, smut, creative use of DF, rough sex, size kink, v!sex, reader has a robotic arm, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling, Kid has a filthy mouth as always, fingering, slight praises, slight degradation (whore/slut are used), slight choking, let me know if I forgot something

WC : 1,6k

"Now, that should work." With a satisfied grin, Kid throws his precision tool onto the desk and runs a finger along your robotic limb. His beautiful amber eyes shine with a glint of pride. Your artificial arm is truly a masterpiece. All made by your creative and skilled boyfriend. The design is more intricate than his own, featuring delicate curves and advanced technology. The day Kid decided to replace your old, rusty prosthesis with a new one designed by himself was truly one of the most beautiful days of your whole existence. A gift from a man as tough as Kid is something that means everything. So you love this arm and you crave for this moment when Kid needs to replace some parts or make sure everything is working well. The view of his skilled hands and deft fingers working with the metal is astonishing. Kid may be loud and rude, but his delicacy in working with metal, particularly on your arm, is mesmerizing. Subtle and yet extremely appealing. It makes you eager. Eager for his broad hand to roam over your body, and for his metal arm to pin you down on the mattress. Eager for his talented fingers to trace their way against your soft skin, running along your inner thighs, and eventually sliding inside you.

"Thank you, Kid!" You smile and he just mutters something unintelligible before helping you to fix the artificial limb. "Move your arm." He orders, closely watching if all the metal connections are working smoothly. As it happens, he proudly grins. "We need to test it out in more intense activities." He adds with a shrug. Although his hot-headed brain is probably thinking about a good old-fashioned fight, your only desire is to feel Kid's hands crushing you on the mattress or bending over the desk. So you grab his fleshy hand and intertwine your fingers together. "We can figure it out now." He grins and shakes his head. "Damn Y/N, you're always so horny when I work on your arm, what a whore." It's his fault. "Blame it on that beautiful skilled hand of yours." He sneers, fidgets with his thick, manicured fingers, and pulls you toward him with a gesture of his forefinger. You can't fight against his devil fruit. In all honesty, you don't want to fight. Even without all this metal, you would always be dragged to Kid. Maybe he's a mess, but a beautiful one. Your beautiful mess.

Immediately, his hand finds its way to your ass. He digs his fingers against your clothed bottom, roughly fondling your cheeks with a husky sigh. "You need me so bad, yeah?" You just moan as he slides his hand under you skirt, pressing his digits roughly against your already soaking wet panties. With a satisfied, low grunt, he removes his hand and stand up, his massive figure looming over you. Sadly, you don't even have the time to appreciate his broad chest or the way his hair fall free on his fore-head as he quickly takes off his goggles. You can't even take a look at his large, already hard cock, pressed against the fabric of his pants. With one swift motion, Kid uses his devil fruit to bend you over his desk. Wearing metal rings and bracelets is not a good idea with Kid, and having a robotic limb neither. Because now, your arms are crossed behind your back and all you can do is bend over, helplessly, squirming, so needy for more.

Kid poses for just a second, taking a look at your drenched panties. Wet, so wet and just for him. That makes his heart melt with pride. "Bend more," he gruffly grumbled, crushing his hand on the small of your back, forcing you to lean your upper body against the cold, hard surface of the desk. Your breasts are roughly pressed against the wood. Now, you're so helplessly offered to him. Just the way he likes it. His cock twitches in impatience as he watches your ass presented to him and immediately, he slaps your ass cheek with his heavy hand, enjoying the nice jiggle and the bright red mark of his fingers. "Lemme see how wet you're" Without any consideration, he rips your panties, exposing your glistening wet folds to his eager eyes. "Fuck, you're already a mess." He slightly kicks your ankles, forcing you to spread your legs wider. Then, he slides his middle finger inside you, a low grunt fall from his lips as he feels your tight walls around his thick finger, so hot, so wet, so tight and just for him. He adds two more fingers, circling his thumb against your clit. He's hitting all your sweet spots with each thrust, you mewl, move your hips, and try to impale yourself further. Your body clenches with ferocity.

You need more.

You need him to fill you up to the hilt. "Kid, fuck me, please." He merely laughs. "Such a good slut, always so needy for my cock." He takes out his fingers and as you turn your head to the side, you can watch him suck his fingers, glistening with your wetness. "So good." He growls while licking his manicured fingernails.

He unbuckles his belt, and removes his pants, his thick cock leaking in pre-cum springs free, pointing right away at you. He jerks his throbbing member. The way his cockhead disappears in his veiny fist with a slosh and wet noise is so obscene. You need him. "Kid, please fuck me", you whine, and he just slaps your ass roughly. "You like looking at my big cock, little whore? Need me to fuck your tight hole? " You squirm, flushed and flustered by his words. "Please," you just beg and he snarls a sharp 'Shut up. And this moron doesn't stop. He uses his devil fruit, magnetizing your entire body to his robotic limb. Your face is roughly pressed against the desk, Kid doesn't waste any more time teasing. With great force, his hips slam forward, sinking his entire length deep inside you.

"Shit," he groans, feeling your walls clamp around his thickness. He stretches you wide open, filling you up the hilt. Kid wraps his flesh hand around your throat, squeezing slightly while his metal hand roughly holds your ass. With his devil fruit, he keeps your arms magnetized behind your back, and your robotic limb is almost magnetized to his own. "Take it, take it all" he growls, slapping your ass once more, leaving bruises on your sensitive skin. All you can do is shout his name as he thrusts roughly in an out of you.

And he watches.

He watches how you core swallow his large member glistening with your juice. A low grunt rumbles in his throat. "Fuck, you were born to take my cok." The force of his hard pounding makes it impossible for you to answer, speak, or breathe. His throbbing member rubs against your sweet spot as he plows into you. Your legs are feeling so weak, and he keeps going. "What a nice collar you got there, little slut," he grins, squeezing your throat, enjoying how you choke and drool because of his hand and his member.

Because of him alone.

Kid can only grunt in delight as the beautiful, sinful melody of your moans and skin slapping against skin fills the room. You look gorgeous, with your tiny body completely wrapped around his big, metallic hand as he uses it to keep you steady. No matter how much you squirm, you can't even move. All you can do is take it. And you won't complain. Because it feels way too good. The way he holds you, the way he fucks you at a spine-breaking pace, the way he's losing his mind because of your body. That makes your mind dizzy. You're pulsing around his cock while he continues to chase his highs, grunting huskily. You're addicted to this feeling. He uses his devil fruit mercilessly, almost breaking your spine while he grunts and twists your arms behind your back. It's almost painful. Kid, let go of your neck, grab a hand of your hair, and lean your back against his broad torso. With each kiss on your neck, you know he's smearing his red lipstick everywhere. All those marks are showing to everyone that you belong to him, and only to him.

"Kid, I can't hold back" you whine. He smacks your ass. "Shit, you're tightening even more. You won't let me go. Like my dick that much?" You squirm, soaking wet, clenching tightly, desperately around his member as you cum hard, all over his cock. Kid continues to pound away at your cunt, relentlessly, his breath hot against your ears. You whine, struggling to get enough air through your nose as he keeps stimulating your sensitive body. With a deep, hypnotic groan, he cum, filling you up with his hot seed before collapsing against your back, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He continues to give sloppy thrusts. "You look so pretty with my marks" he whispers, running his fingers along the bruise on your hips and ass. "You're always so good to me, such a good girl" he praises, pulling out in a squelching sound. He looks at his semen leaking out of your pussy and stuffs it back with his thumb.

"You're alright?" You struggle to breathe, your legs shaking from exhaustion.Actually, you might even fall appart, Kid always leaves you both exhausted and satisfy. Your dear captain just laughs and slaps your ass. "Alright, come here, pretty girl." He lends you his coat and wraps your body in it to cover your nudity before taking you to the bedroom and laying you down on the bed. Grinning, he gives a playful tap to your robotic limb. "Well, I guess it's proof-tested now."

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you #one piece requests #eustass kid imagine #eustass kid #one piece smut #eustass kid smut #eustass kidd x reader #eustass x reader #eustass captain kidd #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #kidd x reader

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obscurecharactershowdown · 11 months

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Before I reveal the contestants, I want to shout out some characters that didn't end up getting in, for one reason or another, but stood out to me

Prince Peasley (Superstar Saga): I mentioned him as a character I really enjoyed learning about, but since he won the Luigi ship competition, I'm unsure of his obscurity status and he may overpower the other characters. I'm sorry your highness, please know I love you

Francis York Morgan (Deadly Premonition): I was stunned to see not one, but 2 people submit this character. I'm endlessly entertained by his weird ass game. He would've been a shoe in had he not been submitted twice. Sorry buddy. Also if he was I would've put in my own propaganda, consisting only of this image

and a video of the squirrels that make monkey noises

Crow T. Robot (Mystery Science Theater 3000): the only reason he's not in is because another MST3K I consider comparatively more obscure was submitted, but I am going to post part of the propaganda for him now because I really loved it and it would be a shame if I was the only one who got to read it:

i have to take a chance on crow, for he is my #1 blorbo and my favorite mst3k character since forever. i charted out a whole TIMELINE for him and there's like. 4-6 of him just existing in various locations. he's shaped like a friend. he can be folded into a torpedo. he has legs and i constantly forget this until he has them on-screen and i'm like OH SHIT this guy is mostly leg (he's around 5'4"). he managed to kill mike (the human guy he lives with in space) TWICE on accident and neither time stuck. all of his presentations are insane and completely factually inaccurate. he claimed women were myths like bigfoot in a short-film style black and white presentation. he's friendly/friends? with pearl, one of the main antagonists (and a woman, who he just claimed didn't exist). he can play the trombone. he just kinda bounces up and down sometimes and is so shaped. he spent 500 years alone because he got bored of being pure energy at the edge of the universe after five minutes. he wrote patrick swayze christmas, the only christmas song ever. he's constantly doing t-rex arms. he keeps falling from extreme heights. to a few ancient romans he's a spider-duck god. he's a bit of a pyromaniac. he went to thanksgiving in deep 13 and walked away unharmed (everyone else got poisoned). he causes an illusion in the theater where it looks like he's staring at you instead of the movie. he's an absolute menace. he contains so much gender yet none at all. he's different! he wants to decide who lives and who dies, and i think he should. he is simply so guy. ty for reading my crow rant sorry for the wall of text

Thank you for this. I love Crow and MST3K too, you are in good company

Mister Qi (Stardew Valley): In the propaganda section, the submitter wrote: "He sucks and I hate him. It'd be really funny if he lost." and it made me laugh

Chuck Cunningham (Happy Days): The submitter's dad told them to submit him and that was also funny to me

Vincenzo (kdrama of the same name): Submitter's dad has a crush on Vincenzo <3

Pioneer 9 (17776): This was the most submitted character, with a total of.....4 submissions! Wow!

Husky (+Anima): This is the second most submitted character, with 3 submissions! I'm sorry to you both but this means you are automatically excluded from being picked for the competition.

Less specifically, shout out to the many characters who were just barely well known enough to drop out of priority. And the major characters/protagonists of major series. A couple were clearly jokes, but several were not.

And all of the characters from albums, commercials, various Real Life Things, myths, some OCs, etc: I have a plan for you. It's not the main bracket, but you are not being left out here. More information on that when the time is right.

Thank you for all your submissions! The list of contestants and their matchups are coming soon!

#obscurecharactershowdown

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fightclubgayporn · 6 months

Note

do you have anything like a doc of information abt sdau? i think it looks really interesting and id love to know more about it + the characters :D

OH ANON YOURE SO SWEET. tbqh i should make one. but context is it was made as a collaborative effort between me and my friends like. 2.5 years ago so its not just my baby. but i really do want to get like. the basics at LEAST down so that people understand the vague plot/vibes.

tl;dr? a bunch of superpowered young adults are just so bad at having interpersonal relationships (more detailed but still basic vers under the cut)

(ps: ive written some stuff about these guys! a lot of its on my ao3, noalarmz! fair warning some of it sucks. i also wrote rubbing alcohol for a creative writing project, and i think it fucks. alcoholism tw)

the characters: (ica)rus: has wings that can burst into flame, but its not like something he can. turn off. so its basically a self-destruct button. strict moral compass, wants to stop vernon, acts as a kind of "hero" for the city. very self-destructive in their pursuit of justice, and overly self-sacrificial (vernon thinks he's selfish for this. it's a whole thing.) vernon valentine: has sound manipulation powers, also deer antlers. dead set on killing narrator and replacing her. very fucked up from his ex girlfriend (who they killed. um) and projects a lot of that + their need for control onto kan. basically he's a very awful toxic friend and also causes problems around the city to get narrator's attention narrator: a very, very old, near all powerful person, but nonetheless, she is still human. her power is complete matter manipulation, meaning she can regenerate her body, being functionally immortal. shes mega op, but she Isn't Actually a god (vernon thinks she is though) she has absorbed a intangible Presence into her mind known as Underscore, which is basically omniscience itself. it fucks her up a little bit. líf erling: a time traveler who travels non-linearly through narrator's timeline. they have a very tragic romance together, due to the fact that when underscore enters narrator's mind, she becomes aware of her own death, which puts um. a strain. on the relationship. kan komarov: he has telekinesis on any non-sentient objects, barring himself! he has. attachment issues. and latches onto vernon HARDSTYLE. is it platonic? is it romantic? is it sexual? you decide. he would basically do anything for them and is fully committed to his plan to kill narrator. kris(ten) clark: a childhood friend of kan's! her power is that she can create purple crystals from the palm of her hand but they do not have good control over it so. oops they did crystallize their friends arm once. which weighs on her. she really cares about kan, so is willing to tolerate vernon, but eventually they just cant take it anymore and leave. better at escaping the cycle than kan is printz o'harte: rus's closest friend. he has emotional telepathy, meaning he can sense everyone's emotions At All Times. which is um. a tad overwhelming. he builds robots to help rus. oops looks like kan has a crush on him (much less intense than his. Emotions for vernon but yk hes got a lil crush <3) he also has been in communication with narrator, because they understand the whole. my mind is loud all the time thing cato crux: she had electric powers! note the past tense because she is DEAD!! she's vernons aforementioned ex, and while they were together, they worked together, trying to take down narrator (kan is kind of her replacement) but uh. then narrator decided to contact cato. and cato realized that she wasnt a god. and vernon, feeling betrayed and hurt and angry, uh. killed her ass. sad! eve singh: stretchy limbs. childhood friends with kan and kris. she and kan were roommates for awhile, until kan met vernon and drifted away from her. she still resents him for this. cherry sinclair: childhood friends with eve, kan, and kris. they're the friend who lost their arm to kris. they dont blame her, but she sure blames herself. they have control over metal, which is helpful in making their own prosthetics.

oh man thats already so much. heres the basic plot beats though

rivalry between rus and vernon established, they clash

during a confrontation, kan becomes interested in printz

kris realizes how Awful her situation is, and that kan has begun to be terrible also, runs away

kan goes into a MAJOR DEPRESSION even more reliant on vernon now, his interest in printz increases cause he wants to replace kris

printz entertains this on rus's advice, so that he could collect information on vernon through kan. this works.

kan is heartbroken AGAIN. sad.

he goes into a manic episode and burns down his old elementary school (it was abandoned but still)

the climax. kan and kris reunite, he apologizes and starts to realize the hold vernon has on him (still loyal tho)

vernon thinks theyre being betrayed again and goes to attack kan

sensing this, printz stops him, giving rus a chance to swoop in snatch vernon into the air.

they decide to sacrifice themself, and his wings burst into flame, killing both himself and vernon.

somewhere in there, narrator also dies i forgot how i gotta ask eloise (she made narrator)

heres where the timeline diverges a little? but in the Good Ending kan and kris are able to heal from their fuckups and become normal friends again, and kan and printz are able to explore the idea of a relationship outside of the confines of their established roles

in the other, kan is so devestated from vernon's death that he starts hallucinating vernon's ghost, jake english/fight club style. this ghost convinces him to dig up vernon's corpse and, using some remnant of narrator, he brings them back to life. but yk. vernon is all fucked up now, dependent on kan and broken by the experience of death. eventually kan realizes that vernon a) was bad for him and b) is not the same vernon who came back and asks kris to. dispose of them. she happily obliges

BONUS SHIT:

if you ever saw me draw a pink haired guy w nice tits and his gamer girlboyfriend, that's aj (pink) and quinn (gamer) they're only vaguely canon to sdau and were originally escape room 2 ocs (yes, really)

in high school (pre transition) kan was a pretty popular youtube cosplayer named Kotdere (kot- from the russian word for cat and -dere from. dere tropes in anime) when he disappeared off the face of the internet there was a lot of confusion

during this time he had an online gf. that was quinn. quinn goes on to be like. the jerma of this universe and gets a hot of streamer boyfriend (aj)

eve gets a girlfriend, victoria! she made those like. true crime/unsolved mystery vids. eve helps her make one on "the disappearance of kotdere?? what REALLY happened"

narrator's story is really beautiful and crazy and i did not at ALL make it so def def def ask @/lovelyisthedawn about her <3

vernon/kan is evil yaoi and vernon/kris is evil yuri. you agree

some ship names (not necessarily rom just relationships)

vernon/kan: high and mighty kan/kris: rock kandy vernon/kris: punkrock printz/kan: palm to palm cato/vernon: tyrannicides narrator/líf: ragnarok probably missed some these are the ones i remember </3

#THAT WAS SUCH A LONG EXPLANATION AND ITS NOT EVEN EVERYTHING.#cause like. i have an obvious bias towards kan cause. hes the one i made #so theres more depth to the other characters cause. i am not their owner.#but this is a starter LOL #sdau #asks #fcgp writing #if i can rope my friends into a doc. that might happen

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

Text

My clan and Hera's we're taken possibly by themselves using just a computer put themselves into it because building ships are that size it's too dangerous and they're using Tommy f as a defensive Force and they don't really build stuff. Kind of sounds like them and they used to being captured and making things of their own in escaping and using it on people so these facilities probably half for taking over by Tommy f m and there's lots of bugs and strange things it makes it very complicated stuck my clan can handle and Hera's. You're sitting there in The matrix sweating death and they are sitting there in The matrix avoiding death and their bodies are preserved that they're much healthier and they're alive they're basically doing what they would have done before recently several parties made huge robot armies I guess is they captured them and they're gearing up to raise some ships more or less invincible ones and arm several pits after the ships are out. It's kind of a very classy thing to do and deceptive but for those who kind of lived with them and Trump trump did for a while and there were products of their environment and it's pretty slick I enjoyed the one who George is the one who made came up with making robots and plants underground in the tunnels and my friend and I Ben Franklin he says and yeah he was one of the Ben Franklin's he says that the mega computers with the AI are probably right there at the matrix facilities

So I thank him for his help and I apologize that we got in a fight and it was really a mistake and he knows and I know it and it makes sense to him now then he looks psyched about it he's playing with fire on the stove and he's throwing things and yeah it is excitement about this because it's freedom from years and years of tyranny really and I also feel bad for my clan and hers because they're smart enough to know that there's no solution except what they're doing but I would keep people alive is to take work and otherwise you don't have a game and I don't think they're thinking that way they're thinking of destroying my people and you people

Zues

They're sick too and wouldn't raise this as an army if you paid them and they used to say it to me and they're not as smart as we are but we're not the same kind and this will do it we are in trouble we're reduced in power and we need people to start doing their jobs and it's starting to get it and you try and imitate them all the time and you are not a good imitation John remillard and he's starting to agree Dave kicked his ass and Dave didn't kick my husband's ass he just didn't stop him he's stronger than him and he knew it but this is how it goes he smacked his head into the yellow cabinet so taking care of that Mr Cross checker

Hera

I can't believe it it finally came out this is what I thought was going on it makes a lot of sense the writing they're hitting tons of people they tied the whole thing up as preposterous to some but to some it makes sense you don't want to be working on those ships personally you want to excuse to be alive you want a threat to be alive and not have to issue it you don't want to be in The fray and my God it's perfect it it is too it's too good but then he said it's not because it's a product of their environment which is true and I was in that and I was trapped in doing things like they're doing so I know it's like second nature so I tried keeping it quiet it's out now and for a reason I don't know on top side and they probably have a place but keeping you around would be the job of most likely robots and so that makes sense to me and it's very bad because mentally I can't figure it out all the time either and that was my son-in-law Chris and he says it too it's tough but it really means what they're doing and it probably is not good for them now and they probably won't make it and I noticed that too and I feel bad but they tried and if they do make it we probably be in trouble anyways so I do see his point

Ken

Wow this is the answer I cannot believe it this is the answer this is what we're looking for and it says that they're ready for my stuff as well and I do hear it everyone is trying to keep everybody out this is terrible I now see how hard it is and he's adding more to it that I think it's real and he hung himself but we don't know if it's for real they just saw him and then he was gone

Mac

It's true this I'm hanging and they left him and then they went and got some people and there's a trick you can do it's the rope goes down inside a sheep's bend or something and he mentioned it recently and someone is eating lamb and so it's going to be over shortly

Hera

What a profound nightmare and it comes from these two parsley and us but holy cow these two are really doing it and this is going to work

Olympus

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snackhobi · 3 years

Text

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #bts #taehyung x you #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #look you know the drill by now: I don't know how to tag effectively #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #dbh is so good guys. I love connor. like. an alarming amount.

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luminnara · 3 years

Text

It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 7 18+ NSFW

18+ ONLY PLEASE

Warnings: nsfw, sexy sex, abo, knotting

Part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Tags: @kyrah-williams williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar r @sukeraa @momc95 @book-lover-2006

Bucky was still reeling from finally getting to hear her name. While the omega explored his apartment, he sank down onto his couch, his head buzzing with thoughts of her and him and his past life with HYDRA and how her name felt so, incredibly, impossibly right.

Amoretta.

It didn’t sound familiar to him, and he was pretty certain that he had never known it before. That made him feel a little bit better about everything, a little less guilty for almost completely forgetting about his omega. He hated how much less he remembered about her than she remembered about him, even if it wasn’t his fault that HYDRA scrambled his brain up so much all the time. No matter how many times he told himself that it was okay, that he was already doing his best, he couldn’t help but feel like he was a bad alpha.

But when she looked up at him with that smile and those eyes, so trusting and happy and comfortable...well, a lot of those negative thoughts flew out the window again.

“So you live here? Like, for real? Like, all the time?” She asked as she inspected his tv.

“Sure do.” He chuckled, sitting on the couch to watch her. “Whaddya think?”

She spun around in a little circle, taking it all. “It’s...perfect.”

Bucky smiled. “I’ll have to find some more blankets for you.”

Amoretta paused, looking at him curiously. “For what? I don’t think I could ever be cold with you around. You’re like a furnace.”

“Well...so you can...you know.” He was feeling stupid again. She wasn’t even thinking of nesting with him around, was she?

“So I can what?” She seemed puzzled.

“You know...make a nest…” he mumbled. “Isn’t that what omegas are s’posed to do? I’ve heard Bruce makes them…”

Realization dawned on her and her jaw dropped a little. “Oh. I haven’t gotten to nest in...um...ever?” She laughed. “HYDRA never let me.”

“...oh.” Bucky cleared his throat.

“But now that I’m thinking about it, that might be nice.” She glanced around the room, already looking for a good spot. “Maybe there? Ooh, no, I don’t want it out in the open, do I? Or maybe I do…”

“Hey, FRIDAY?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, Seargent Barnes?” The robot replied, her voice sounding from somewhere in the ceiling.

Amoretta jumped. “Can she see us right now?”

“I monitor everything in this tower,” Friday said. “Tony has designed me to run all necessary systems.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell someone we need more bedding. Blankets. Lots of ‘em.”

“I will let Miss Potts know right away, Seargent.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” He said, kicking his shoes off to rest his heels on the coffee table.

“Of course, Seargent Barnes.”

“So...you’re a Seargent?” Amoretta asked, making her way over to sit on the arm of the couch.

He stretched his arms back behind his head. “Seargent James Buchanan Barnes. World War II. I was with the 107th.”

“Is that how you know Steve?”

He smiled, his head. “Nah. We were always friends. Grew up in Brooklyn together.”

She sat up a little straighter. “Brooklyn?”

“Born ‘n raised, doll.”

“I wanna go!” She bounced down onto the cushion next to him, both hands pressing into his thigh as she suddenly leaned up towards his face. “Please?”

“Uh, sure.” He was a bit taken aback by her sudden movement, but he wasn’t complaining about how close she was now. “Mind tellin’ me why, though?”

“You mentioned it once.” She rubbed her nose against his neck, sighing happily as she scent of cloves filled her senses.

“...I did?”

“Mhm.” Amoretta snuggled up against his side, fitting next to him perfectly. “I don’t remember everything from back then, but I remember that.”

“What’d I say?” He brought on of his arms down to drape around her shoulders, hugging her closer.

“I think I asked you what kind of life we’d have outside of HYDRA.” She rested her cheek on his chest. “You told me we’d live in Brooklyn, in our own house. And…” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

“And what?” He asked, curious.

“You said we’d have lots of pups.” She chewed her lip, looking away from him in embarrassment. “It was probably just your rut talking, though, you know...i-if you don’t want that now, it makes sense. I mean, you’ve got this whole life now, and…”

She trailed off as she noticed that his chest was rumbling with a loud purr. When she finally brought her eyes back up to his face, she saw that he was watching her, features relaxed into a soft, thoughtful expression.

“Do...you want pups?” She asked, heart leaping hopefully.

“Always used to want a whole little family.” He pulled her up to straddle his lap. “Didn’t think I’d get the chance to, but now…hey, I never sired any for HYDRA, right?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” He sounded relieved. “That’d be a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“They made sure my heat suppressants kept me infertile.” Amoretta said. “They didn’t have a program for breeding super soldiers ready yet.”

“Good.” He growled. “No pups of mine are ever gonna grow up in a place like that.”

She reached up, running her fingers through his hair. “You really want them now?”

“Course.” He pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face against her scent gland. “Maybe not, like, now, now, but…with you? I do.”

Amoretta’s eyes widened, a happy little keen leaving her throat. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that…”

Bucky tugged her back so he could face her. “I’m gonna court you properly. Do it right.”

“But you don’t need to—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupted. “I’m an old fashioned guy. I’m gonna court you.”

She grinned, a hand trailing down the side of his neck. “How old fashioned, exactly?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Too old fashioned to have a little fun?” Her hand slipped down to press against his chest.

His purr turned into a growl, his hands moving to hold her hips. “Doll, all you gotta do is ask…”

Amoretta brought her lips to his ear. “Will you fuck me, Bucky Barnes?”

It only took a moment before his lips were on hers. He was gentle, but he was hungry, devouring her in a kiss that left her breathless and would have made her knees weak had she been standing. With his hands slowly sliding down to her ass, Bucky was perfectly content to take his time; he wanted to feel her, inch by inch, until he had memorized every curve and dip of her body.

Her skin was so soft beneath his callouses. He nudged her sweater up a bit, his hands slipping underneath it to grab at her tits. She couldn’t help but let out a whine against his lips when he brushed a thumb over her nipple, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held him.

When he broke away from the kiss, he gave her lower lip a sharp bite. “Bed. Now.”

Amoretta practically launched herself towards his bedroom, scrambling onto the bed without a second thought. Bucky followed at a much slower pace, enjoying the view as she shed her clothing.

“Hey, maybe I wanted to do that,” he teased, crawling over her. His lips found her neck, his fangs scraping her skin.

“I-I wanted to make it easier for you,” she gasped, back arching as he gave her scent gland a gentle bite.

“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart.” His voice was husky and low, his breath hot against her throat. “I wanna enjoy every second…”

She sighed as he nipped and licked at her, her hands slipping under his shirt. Her fingers ran across his abs, feeling the way they flexed beneath her touch as he ground his hips into hers.

“You’re overdressed,” She said, tugging at his hem. “Let me see you.”

Bucky broke away from her neck and grabbed his shirt, shucking it off and tossing it behind him. “Better?”

“Much,” She hummed, taking in the sight of his naked torso.

“Good.” He took hold of her hips, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he made his way down to her pussy. “God, you smell fucking amazing…”

Amoretta trilled happily. “So do y—oh my god…”

His tongue was already lapping at her. She couldn’t remember anyone ever eating her out before, but Bucky seemed determined to make up for lost time. He acted like he was starving, sucking and nipping at her clit while he sank a finger inside of her.

Her hips bucked against him, his vibranium hand holding her down while his human hand played with her. She was already soaked, slick running down her thighs, and her scent was driving him wild.

“Fuck, I want you…” he growled, adding a second finger. “So wet, so willing…and you smell so delicious….” He inhaled slow and deep, savoring it. “I think I’ve missed this…”

“D-do you actually remember all the t-times you rutted with me?” Her voice hitched with little gasps as he stroked her inner walls.

“Yes and no.” He admitted, leaning his cheek on her thigh and looking up at her. “But I know this scent…”

“What scent—ah!” She bit her lip as he crooked his fingers a few times, warmth mounting in her belly. “K-keep going, I’m—FUCK!”

She shuddered as an orgasm rolled through her, electricity tingling in her limbs.

“The scent of my omega, all drippin’ wet, just for me.” He pulled his fingers away, licking them clean. “I wanna fuck you, doll…”

“Please,” she whimpered, scooting back up toward the pillows as Bucky stood.

Amoretta’s eyes were glued to his hands as they unbuckled his belt, his movements quick and determined. He was tired of waiting around. He wanted her now.

As he shoved his pants down off of his hips, she bit her lip again, rubbing her thighs together. She could remember how good he felt inside her, and as she thought about the way he always used to snap his hips into hers, she felt another trail of slick running down her legs.

At the sight of his cock, she was practically a waterfall.

Before he could get back to her, Amoretta was flipping over onto her hands and knees, presenting herself for him with her ass up in the air. She peeked back over her shoulder at him, watching as froze and then stiffened, a low, impossibly loud growl rumbling in his chest.

“Good girl,” he praised her, his cock already rock hard as he crawled across the bed towards her.

Amoretta gave a little wiggle, trying to convince him to hurry up. When his hands grabbed her hips and jerked her back against him, she squealed in surprise, the sound melting into a moan as he rubbed his cock against her.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please just fuck me, Alpha, I need it…”

“How bad?” He leaned over her, nipping at her shoulder.

“S-so bad, please, just—“

She interrupted herself with another moan, her hands clutching at the sheets as Bucky finally gave her what she was craving so badly.

He pressed himself into her slowly at first, waiting to feel some resistance. She was so soft and warm that he almost came then and there, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he forced his hips to still. Fuck, how could someone feel so good? Her pussy felt perfect around him, gently squeezing his cock as he pulled back out and then thrusted back in, already balls deep inside her. He could tell why he had liked her so much during his ruts, but he had no idea how he could have managed to fuck her for more than thirty seconds during one.

When he started moving again, Amoretta turned into putty. She was absolutely melting, angling her hips so that he could sink in deeper and deeper, slick running down her thighs.

“You like my cock, baby?” He asked, voice muffled by her neck as he dragged his lips over her skin. He wanted to be as close to her as possible, and he didn’t care if that meant both of them being a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He just wanted her.

“Y-yes, Alpha,” she gasped, slowly sliding down until her chest was squished against the bed. He felt even better than she remembered, his cock rubbing against every single perfect spot inside of her. He was stretching her out comfortably, her slick providing more than enough lube to ensure that his size could never hurt her.

Fuck, he was perfect. He was made for her. They were made for each other.

Bucky was pressed against her back, shielding her with his entire body. He didn’t want anyone else to see his omega. The sight of her there, beneath him, taking his cock so well was for him and him alone, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

“Want me to fill you up?” He asked, licking her scent gland.

“Y-yes please,” she moaned, leaning her head back for him.

“Want me to breed you, over ‘n over, ‘til you’re full of pups?” He bit at her jaw.

“Yes!” She cried, whines and trills all flooding from her throat in a symphony of needy sounds.

“Say my name,” he panted, his knot already beginning to swell.

“B-Bucky,” she moaned as she felt it catch on her. Fuck, she had forgotten how good it felt to be stretched and feel it filling her.

He let go of her hips, his hand finding hers. “No, my real name…”

“J-James,” she gasped, intertwining their fingers together. “James…please knot me...”

That was it.

Hearing her gasping and moaning his name sent him over the edge, and before he could stop himself, he was exploding inside of her. He snarled, biting her shoulder again as he held her down, his knot locking him in place as he pressed his hips forward.

Amoretta sighed happily at the feeling, relaxing as Bucky’s weight fell onto her. He was panting hard, trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he sighed, kissing the already-healing bite marks on her shoulder. “Sorry ‘bout the bites.”

Amoretta grinned at him as he helped her turn onto her side. “I like your bites.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulled her up against his chest, settling in to wait for his knot to go down once more. “I’ll remember that.”

“Super soldier, remember? Built to withstand you at your roughest.” She snuggled back.

“Guess I’ve got something to thank HYDRA for, after all.” He chuckled, drawing lazy circles on her hip. “You didn’t cum when I was inside you, did you?”

“No, but that’s fine.” She shrugged. “I did before.”

“That’s not enough,” he growled. “If my knot wasn’t so swollen right now, I’d be fucking you until your legs shake.”

“Is that a promise, Sergeant?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“It is.”

“Well, then…” she held his jaw in her hand, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait for your knot to go down.”

#abo #alpha bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x reader #alpha bucky #it's been a long long time #omegaverse #a/b/o #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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supernaturalgirl20 · 3 years

Text

To be loved by the devil!

Pairings: the thief/the devil x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving),fluff, jealousy, mentions of God and biblical stuff, cursing.

Summary: the devil has searched a lifetime for his soulmate, with no luck. A chance encounter at a lavish party changes everything.

A/N: I’m a little late to the party with the commercial, but hey I got there in the end. This is purely self indulgent.

{Comments and reblogs really appreciated}

You’d heard the stories, your grandmother spoke often about them. How the devil walks among us tricking people into giving him their soul for earthly treasures. That however was not his true intentions, no, he searched for something far more precious. His soulmate! You had laughed at your grandmother, “the devil does not have a soulmate, he’s the devil.”

“Laugh all you want girl, but every being on this earth has a soulmate. El Diablo has walked the earth searching for her for a lifetime.” You learned not to question her, to just let her tell her stories, for that was all they were, stories. El Diablo was not real.

Sarah had invited you to some lavish party at this huge historic home in the middle of nowhere. It was some art dealer or something that was hosting it and you were under strict instructions to wear something formal. If you were being honest you didn’t really want to go, but Sarah wasn’t the type of person you said no to.

As you finished off your make up, you look yourself over in the mirror. Not bad. You bought a new dress for tonight, a red backless dress with thin straps. It was form fitting with a slit up the side. It made you feel powerful, sexy. A car horn startled you and you grabbed your purse and made your way outside.

“Y/N, you look stunning. You need to come to these with me more often.”

“Thanks. Ready to go?”

“Oh you bet.”

The driver pulled out of the drive and away you went. You drove out of the city and away from civilisation. There were trees everywhere, it made you feel like you were in a different world entirely. The closer you got, the more your body tingled. You felt a weird sensation deep within you, like something or someone was calling your body, calling it home.

Arriving at the house, we’ll mansion really, you we’re in awe of its beauty. Whoever owned it was extremely wealthy. Upon entry you were both given masquerade masks. Yours was a beautiful black lace mask with small diamonds running through it. Sarah leaves you at the bar to talk to some work colleagues and while your sipping on your champagne, you feel a set of eyes on you. Turning around you look out into the crowd, but you don’t see anyone staring at you. Suddenly a figure looms over you, “what is a beautiful women like you doing all alone?”

“Oh I’m not, I’m with a friend.” He looks around dramatically, “I’d don’t see anyone.”

“She’s dancing.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Well there free, so I’m good.”

“Hey no need to be rude, I was being nice.”

“Look I’m sorry but I’m not interested. There are loads of beautiful women here, I’m sure one of them will let you get them a drink.” You can tell from his clenched fists that he’s annoyed. He turns to leave, muttering under his breath.

“Fucking bitch.”

You hated guys like him, ignorant assholes. Thinking if they get you a drink it’s a one way ticket into your knickers. Downing the glass you get another. This was going to be a long night.

“I’m so sorry, I’m back now. Wanna dance?”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“Yes, now come on.” Sarah grabs your hand and pulls you behind her. You join some of her friends from work and you notice Jake is with them. You have had a huge crush on him since Sarah’s birthday party last year.

“Y/N, you came.”

“Yeah, we’ll I didn’t really have a choice. You know how Sarah is.”

“Yeah tough cookie.”

Suddenly the music shifts to a slow set and Jake pulls you into him.

“You don’t mind, do you? I promise I can dance.”

“No I don’t mind. Lead the way.” He was an amazing dancer and the feel of his arms around you sent butterflies to your stomach. Jake is telling you how beautiful you look but you can’t concentrate, you fee someone staring again. That feeling you got in the car comes back, growing more intense by the second until..

“Mind if I cut in?”

You turn towards the voice and all you can see are these beautiful brown eyes staring at you. It’s like there staring right into your soul.

“Uh..”

Jake doesn’t get to say a word, mystery man has you whisked away. The feel of his arm around your waist and the smell of his cologne has you dizzy.

“You are very beautiful, mi ángel.” You can feel the blush rise up onto your cheeks. You can’t help staring at his eyes, it’s like you’ve known him a lifetime and yet you just met.

“I have waited a lifetime for your mi amor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you not feel it deep within your soul? We are destined to be together, you are mine and I am yours.”

“I…I..”

He swings you around and lowers you back. His lips trail down your neck and it sends a spark straight to your core. When he pulls you back up, your no longer in the ballroom. Looking around it appears as if your in a bedroom. There is a huge four poster bed and the room is illuminated by the crackling fire. You can see him more clearly now, in his long house coat. He slowly removes the mask and it’s like something has taken your breath away. He’s so handsome, with those deep brown eyes you could get lost in, his curved nose that suits his face perfectly and that thick head of hair that has you wanting to run your fingers through it. He’s right in front of you and as he pulls you close, something about him feels like home.

“You do not know how long I have waited for you mi amor. No matter, I have you now, nothing will separate us again.”

“I don’t know..”

He places his hands on your cheeks and pulls you into a sweet kiss. Suddenly your head is spinning and images flash behind your eyes. Images of you and him, together, in love until god separated you both. As punishment, for Lucifer betraying him, you both were cast out, soulmates ripped apart. Your memories of him were wiped and he was bound to a lifetime searching for you. When he pulls away you have tears in your eyes, “Luc” you lean up and kiss him again, this time more passionately.

“You remember me?”

“Yes! I’m sorry I ever forgot.”

“It wasn’t your fault mi amor, I was to blame for all this, but no matter. We’re together again and I will not let you go this time.”

His hand caressed your shoulders and the straps of your dress fell. With one tug, it pooled around your feet. You stepped out of it and reached up to push his coat off his shoulders. He backed you up until the back of your legs hit the bed, he lay you back gently, kissing his way down your body. He nudges your thighs apart and begins kissing the inside of them, slowly inching towards your aching pussy. He pulls your hips closer and slants his mouth over your core. His tongue searches through your folds, before finding the little pearl of your clitoris. Your nerve endings tingle with pleasure as you writhe beneath him. His gorgeous face rises from between your legs, a devilish smirk on his face. You grasp the sheets desperately trying to anchor yourself as a wave of ecstasy washes over you. Luc entwines his hand in yours, holding you steady. He kisses his way over your hips, along your stomach, sweeps his tongue over the peak of your breasts, before settling his body against yours.

He kisses your lips passionately before slowly inching himself inside you.

“Fuck mi amor……I forgot how tight you were. I love you.”

The weight of him on top of you feels perfect. His movements are slow and languid and you need more.

“I need you to move faster Luc.” You lock your ankles behind his firm ass, pulling him closer and urging him to go hard. You can feel the tight knot in your stomach threatening to unravel.

“I’m close baby, want you to come with me.”

He reaches between you and presses his thumb over your clit, rubbing circles.

“Fuck yes!”

You cry out as fierce waves of pleasure crash over you, your whole body trembling with the force of your climax. He thrusts into you once more before he follows you over the edge, blowing his seed deep inside you. He pulls out of you and you feel empty without him. He disappears into the en-suite to grab a wash cloth, before coming back and gently cleaning you up. He throws it on the floor before climbing under the duvet with you. Pulling you close he kisses your forehead.

“Te amo, mi amor. I am never letting you go again mi ángel. He will not take you from me again.”

“I am with you now forever mi amor.”

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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youngbugandtonystank · 3 years

Note

what's the difference between what wanda did to those people in wandavision and what tony did with ultron?

I have so many asks about this. Hate asks, and people wondering what’s going on. This is the only one I’m answering.

Both of them are responsible for their actions. I’ve seen people try and take away either Tony’s responsibility for that or Wanda’s engagement and accountability.

In Tony’s case, the Ultron program was supposed to be a global peacekeeping program to protect the people, acting as a suit around the world to prevent events like the Battle of New York. He was doing it in the name of peace and safety. Tony was rightfully scared because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Wanda intentionally enhanced that fear in him and this drove him to create Ultron with Bruce. He has responsibility for it. Same as Bruce. He owns up to this, he took full responsibility and agreed that they needed to be regulated.

Tony Stark: A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault.

Tony Stark: There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.

Tony Stark: That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.

If people think he needs to be in jail for it, then I’m guessing the rest of the Avengers too since all of them have made mistakes and killed people too. As a matter of fact, after the events of Wandavision, I’m sure that Wanda should be in the Raft, but because she’s ‘a poor baby’ yall won’t think she deserves that.

SPOILERS

It’s a big possibility that we don’t have all the info about what happened in Wandavision but we’re going to go with what we know so far.

In Wanda’s case, she did it to appease her grief and pain, and I can understand why she would get to that point, she’s been through a lot and maybe she was about to lose her mind. Instead of recruiting Wanda after the Sokovia incident, they should’ve given this girl treatment for her mental health problems. She just lost her brother and passed through a very traumatic war zone, of course she needs assistance. Cap and Natasha were the ones responsible for her because they were training the ‘new’ avengers. Sam was with them and he used to be a counselor to veterans with PTSD. He could’ve helped Wanda with some of her traumas. As shown in the series, Wanda did the whole hex business before meeting Agatha, which means creating that little reality was all Wanda’s responsibility. Hayward and Agatha did exactly what Wanda did to Tony (and the avengers/other people) in AOU. They manipulated her and played with her emotional traumas. Hayward showed her Vision’s body parts and Agatha started to pull strings to know how Wanda did what she did and her real powers while orchestrating against her.

Both of them have made mistakes. No one is better than the other. I don’t understand why some fans want to make someone responsible more than the other or blame one character for the other. While Wanda gave Tony that vision and pushed his self-destructive side to obsess over saving the world, he did create Ultron, what Tony didn’t predict was that the robot was going to corrupt itself. Same with Wanda, while Agatha and Hayward contributed to her trauma, she held hostage and isolated 3,892 people to create her perfect reality, ripping these people away from their identities and free will to fit her own fantasy. Don’t turn this into ‘omg poor her, it’s Tony fault that she’s this way'. I can’t believe I have to repeat this but you don’t see Peter Parker obsessively looking for the person who manufactured the gun instead of the criminal who actually killed Uncle Ben. Ridiculous that I have to repeat this example.

Oh and about Vision’s body (damn yall have a gift to turn everything into Tony’s fault for some reason). I can’t believe some of you think Tony (while grieving for 5 years) would give Vision to Hayward. You’re either pulling stuff out of your asses or you didn’t pay attention to the show. Maria Rambeau founded and was the Director of S.W.O.R.D. In 2018 (when IW happened), this is where she came up with a new policy within S.W.O.R.D. to ground snapped agents in case they ever returned. Maria was diagnosed with cancer, then two years later (2020), she passed away. Then, Hayward was promoted to Director of S.W.O.R.D., in his first years (2020-2022) he refocused the organization’s work from extraterrestrial operations to robotics, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, etc. There, that was the 5 years. Then in 2023 it’s when he started project Cataract, which revolved around rebuilding Vision as a sentient weapon. Tony was dead when this happened. How come yall don’t get this part? I don’t understand, do you really think his dead corpse signed some papers to give Vision to those people? LMAO

Instead of thinking Tony would give up Vision just like that, think (possibilities):

Maria was the head of S.W.O.R.D., she might have just been keeping his body safe without doing anything with him. Maybe she trusted Hayward and he, obviously, betrayed her because he’s turning her organization into something else after her death.

One of the Sokovia Accords regulations states that the use of technology to bestow individuals (the term ‘enhanced individual’ in this book is defined as any person, human or otherwise, with superhuman capabilities) with innate capabilities is strictly regulated by the government, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology. Vision signed those accords ('I'm saying there may be a casualty. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand’) The Avengers were no longer be a private organization and they operate under the supervision of the United Nations. This means they (UN) were the ones that referred Vision’s body to S.W.O.R.D., to a trustworthy leader, Maria.

Vision died in Wakanda, not in New York. Tony was missing for 22 days after the snap, the rest of the avengers should’ve taken responsibility for his body.

Why is it always Tony’s fault but never consider that other parties are also involved in this?

I want to address some other asks with this one. I know some of you are angry because people are starting to blame Tony all over again, so a few things to remember:

Tony did not create the Accords. The Accords were the result of all the collective actions the Avengers have done in their superhero careers. All of them have made mistakes and the collateral damage of that was taken into consideration by the government and 117 countries around the world. He signed the accords because he knew that he could amend them with the support of the rest of the avengers and he knew about Thanos (something big was coming).

Obadiah Stane (it’s so bizarre for me seeing that some people don’t know who this guy is, I’m guessing that the people who are watching Wandavision are too young to remember or didn’t watch the Iron Man movies at all which is highly probable) was the one selling weapons to the wrong people, not Tony. Obadiah was the CEO of Stark industries and became second-in-command for two decades. He grew jealous of Tony and began cooperating with the Ten Rings in Afghanistan, selling them Stark Industries weapons illegally. Imagine blaming all of it on Tony when Obadiah basically murdered thousands only because he felt a little green. If someone who you trust (he had no reasons to doubt Obadiah since he was like a second father-figure for him) does something behind your back (take into consideration that people like Pepper; who was Tony’s assistant and had knowledge of all of Tony’s activities and responsibilities, Rhodey; who was the liaison between the military in the department of acquisitions and Stark Industries, and Happy Hogan; who was his personal bodyguard and Head of Security of Stark Industries, didn’t know what Stane was doing either), how are you going to know about it? Tony trusted him. And when he realized what was going on he immediately stopped all of it. He worked hard to be better and people overlook that because they want other characters to look better.

Don’t act like Tony was the only one assisting the military. All of the avengers assisted in one way or another. Natasha (who used to be an assassin) was in the Red Room, trained in the Black Widow Program in association with Leviathan and the Soviet Armed Forces, served for KGB, etc. Bruce Banner used to work for the United States government and was commissioned to create a super serum for them. Same goes with the rest, Sam, Clint, etc. Steve Rogers was a soldier lmaoooooooooooooo like, what happened to Tony with Obadiah happened to Steve with SHIELD/HYDRA in TWS. He trusted the people working in there (SHIELD), served for them, did missions for them and as soon as he found out what they were doing behind his back he turned against them.

Knowing all of this, how is Tony always the villain for yall? I’m guessing because Tony’s popularity in the MCU, but still, aren’t yall tired of not understanding the plot and having people repeat it to you constantly? Watch the movies if you want to understand the franchise, people. Stop following the crowd.

Also, Wanda is not a kid, she’s a 35 year old woman in Wandavision, she was 26 in AOU and 27 in CW. Hardly a child. Tony had almost her same age (38) when he realized Obadiah was selling illegal weaponry behind his back. The only reason people don’t fully forgive Tony is because 1. he’s a man and 2. he’s a billionaire. Even if Wanda was poor she still killed and hurt many people over the course of her life. Stop trying to make Tony the villain only to downplay Wanda’s actions.

Both have killed people, both have made mistakes. They’re both responsible for them.

#wanda maximoff #wandavision #vision #tony stark #avengers #marvel #mcu #this is the only ask I'm answering about this #exhausting

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lilxberry · 3 years

Text

That’s My Girl - Scott Lang

Requested by: @bnhaxreaderquotes

Could I have a Scott Lang x longterm girlfriend fic?? Where she’s like super strong but super dumb?? Like she’s Thor but human and female XD bonus if she lifts Thor’s hammer to get to something and everyone’s like 👀 and she’s like ??? And scots like 🥰 “that’s my gf”

I loved this idea, I just really didn’t want to use the word stupid so much lmao I mostly referred to reader as “slow” I believe but like, this whole thing is kinda cute asf so I’m happy with it. I hope you’re happy with it too

Warnings: Like, a singular swear. Sweet ass Scott. Upset!Reader? IDEK ANYMORE.

Words: 1,645

Pairings: Scott Lang x Reader (female reader) (super strong reader?)

Unplanned sequel; That��s My Wife

_______________

There’re many words to describe you.

Sweet? Yes. Kind? Yep. Selfless? Definitely. Beautiful? 100%. Strong? No doubt.

Stupid?

No, just…slow.

It’s not that you lacked intelligence, just, your brain worked at a different pace to that of others. Your fellow teammates could tell you that. Especially your partner Scott.

Scott, the sweetie pie that he is, certainly tries his best to help you catch up, to understand things that hadn’t really made sense to you at first. He’s no stranger to defending you either, no matter who or what it’s against.

Including your teammates.

“So, like C-3P0?”

Your head was tilted in confusion and your face was scrunched up as you tried desperately to understand what Tony was talking about.

You had walked into the lab finding all of the Avengers surrounding Tony rambling on about his newest creation, engineering some crazy new robotic tech. The others that had been subjected to his showcasing had explained to you that he’d called them in, forced them to watch the unveiling of Frankenstarks newest monster.

When you had asked why you hadn’t been called in, you’d missed the way Tony and the others tensed up. They knew that you wouldn’t understand a word Stark was speaking, as if the man were speaking some foreign language to you, but they didn’t want to explain that it was because you were ‘dense’.

The heaven-sent that is Scott stepped forward, a big, bright smile on his face as he entwined his fingers with your own as he came up with an excuse for the billionaire, saving Starks’ skin and sparing your feelings.

“He thought you’d find it boring. We all do to be honest honey but only so many of us are lucky enough to have an out,” was the sugar-coated explanation he conjured up on the spot.

You bought it easily, nodding in understanding with the sweetest of smiles before reaching up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. The others visibly relaxed, though you were oblivious as you stared up at Scott with a love-sick expression.

You had then gone on to ask what exactly it was that Tony had been working on which had led to a longwinded explanation with wild gestures and a heap of words you certainly didn’t understand whatsoever. Truth be told, he’d lost you within the first sentence.

Tony heaved a sigh. “No, not like C-3P0. The design is completely different and the level of A.I. being used it higher than that of C-3P0,” he spoke exasperatedly, a mocking tone taking over his tone near the end.

Feeling even more confused that what you had originally felt, you tried once more to understand.

“So…like Vision?”

Sam snorted as majority of the others smirked or tried to supress their smiles, Vision unsurprisingly seemed stoic as ever. Tony, on the other hand, had a look of genuine surprise. Almost looking proud.

“Uh, yeah, actually. You worked that out a lot faster than I thought you would honestly,” Tony said as an off-handed comment causing the others to still and Scott to tense slightly beside you while your brows furrowed.

“What’d you mean?”

Scott once again interjected to save the day, dragging your attention to him instead. “None of us really got it, that’s all. I’m pretty sure Thor still doesn’t, honestly.” He whispered the last part as he pointed his thumb towards the towering, blonde Asgardian.

Although your heart fluttered at the thought of Scott trying to be so sweet and kind to you, you couldn’t help the hurt that spread through you. You knew how the others viewed you, how they thought you were stupid, how you don’t understand anything.

Rather than show it affected you, you forced a smile on to your face and a tiny giggle to pass your lips.

Glancing at the others before allowing your eyes to fall back on to your boyfriend, you kept the feigned smile on your lips as you spoke. “I just remembered I gotta load of stuff to do. I’ll see you guys later.”

Scott flashed you his pearly whites in a wide smile before pecking your forehead and giving you a quiet “Sure babe.”

Walking backwards, you called out loudly to the group before exiting the room. “Have fun with Vision 2.0.”

Usually, when the team unintentionally commented on you in such a way, it would never really affect in such a negative way but today, it was just a series of failure after failure, your day all-round being bad.

From the comment in the lab, to the accidental breaking of a trainee’s arm due to you forgetting the strength you held over others, to Steve and Bucky taking the last of the coffee in the pot of the coffee machine which you had no idea how to work.

You had even bumped into someone in the hallway, the file you had been carrying falling to the ground and the papers inside scattering across the floor in disarray, leaving you to try reorganising the lot, taking a whole hour and a half.

It’s unfortunate that the person to be at the end of your disgruntled mood would be someone who you strongly considered a friend.

The Avengers who were currently residing at the compound were all scattered within the main living area and the open kitchen when you walked in, looking dishevelled as you frantically searched for a package that you had been notified had been delivered.

Walking through, you looked to see if the damn thing was atop any table you passed. Hell, you even lifted one of the chairs slightly to see if someone was cruel enough to hide the thing under it.

Although everyone had opted to watch you curiously, it was your sweet Scott to break the silence.

“Hey honey, whatcha’ doing there?” he asked curiously.

You grumbled out your answer, honestly ready for the day to be over with. “I’m looking for my delivery.”

Sam snorted before pointing towards the island in the centre of the kitchen. “You mean that massive package right there?”

Low and behold, there sat your package on top of the cool, marble surface, just with an added feature. You scowled, storming over towards the thing. You turned your fiery gaze to Thor, who was overall minding his own business chowing down on the entire contents of a Pop Tart box.

“WHY DID YOU PUT YOUR HAMMER ON MY FUCKING DELIVERY?!” You roared out, everyone’s eyes widened in complete and utter shock, Thor even jumped at the sudden loud booming. As he opened and reclosed his mouth repeatedly in a pathetic attempt to say something, anything, you continued.

“There could’ve been something really important in there! Or-or super fragile or something! What if you broke it?!”

During your explosion at the poor Asgardian, you happened to grasp the handle of Mjölnir and lift it with ease, causing everyone’s eyes to widen further and even a few mouths to drop open, gaping at the sight in front of them, Tony choking on his drink that he had been taking a sip of. Although Scott was just as shocked as those around him, he more so looked like a small child who’s completely wonder-struck, a twinkle in his eye.

“Never, and I mean NEVER, put your hammer on my damn things again. GOT IT?!” You shoved the hammer into Thors’ chest harshly, causing him to fumble to get a hold of it.

Once certain he had a tight grasp on the thing, you released your hold and spun on the spot, now becoming witness to everyone’s flabbergasted expressions. “WHAT?” you asked in exasperation and confusion, today completely tiring you out mentally and emotionally.

A pregnant silence befell you all before Scott suddenly jumped out of his seat, face ecstatic, arms raised high into the air above his head, hands balled up into fists, a loud and excited shout escaping him.

“YES!”

“You-you’re worthy?” Thor asked quietly to no one in particular.

Your brows furrowed deeply, now entirely confused and ever so slightly self-conscious. “What?”

“You’re worthy babe! Hell yeah! Up top!” he had made his way over towards you, now one arm raised with his hand now relaxed, waiting on you to give him a high five.

“I’m not following…”

“Only Thor could lift the hammer ‘cause he was the only one who’s worthy or whatever. It’s like impossible for anyone else to lift it,” Clint started to explain before being cut off by Natasha.

“Until you, that is. You’re the only other one whose been able to lift it.”

“Oh,” was all you said before shrugging your shoulders and waddling your way past Scott and towards your package on the kitchen island, picking it up and beginning to walk away.

Before you left though, you thought this to be the perfect opportunity to finally boast about something that you had been able to do that the others couldn’t. “Well, I may be stupid but at least I don’t put my back out by trying to lift a little hammer.”

You smirked as you continued to walk away, your destination being your room, package what would be heavy to most in your arms. Scott laughed loudly, something you could hear as you continued to retreat to your bedroom.

Meanwhile…

“HELL YEAH! THAT’S MY GIRL! WOO!” Scott began to follow after you, still shouting out every single word he spoke. “HONEY! THAT WAS LIKE THE COOLEST THING EVER! DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES?! Oh man, I can’t wait to tell Cass. SHE’S GONNA FREAK!”

The Avengers were still suck in their retrieves of shock, all unmoving, all trying to process the newfound information that you could lift the hammer.

Thor seemed to be taking it the worst, looking ever so slightly frightened, gulping loudly.

“I believe I have new matters to discuss with my father...”

_______________

I love any Paul Rudd character just as much as him

I even have a t-shirt with his beautiful ass face on lmao

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

_______________

Marvel taglist:

@thanossexual

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Nobody else — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Hello! May I request number nine from the fluff prompts and number seven from the smut prompts for Five? Maybe where the reader is a super skilled fighter, and the other Hargreeves siblings can’t get over how amazing she is, but that causes Five to become a little jealous?”

“Okayy if you're not tired of Five and smuts yet, can I request 18,70,74 and 84 from smut list with fem reader?”

Fluff prompts:

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

Smut prompts:

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

18. “Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

70. “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

74. “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”

84. “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Thank you for requests💖 I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit smut, dirty talk, bad words, fluff, fight, mention of death, jealousy.

— — — — —

People need each other to find support, comfort and understanding. Thomas Merton said: “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life alone, but with the other. ”

And as cliché as it was, it was the truth. And that is exactly what happened to you.

It was difficult to explain how many years you had already been killing for the commission. Ever since, maybe? You did not remember a time when that work was not part of your life, your routine, your system. But you could feel, vaguely like a hazy dream, that one day the act of breathing was ... light.

Killing without conscience brought many regrets, and the weight of guilt filled your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

But you were good at that. God, you were very good. Maybe it was the endless years of training, your quick thinking, or the simple fact that you had a lot more physical stamina than the other agents. But, whatever it was, it helped you move up the board quickly.

Murdering with a gun was easy, quick, clean, and there were already many agents who did that job. For someone like you, so empowered, the commission has relocated you to more… arduous and dangerous missions.

Your job was to kill those whose gunshots could not show up at the necropsy. Someone who needed to die without the body revealing what had happened very well.

Shoot JFK? It wasn't with you.

End Hitler? It wasn't your job.

To kill Socrates with your bare hands and make everyone believe it was poison? This is where you came in.

The difference between the jobs was that you had to do the whole process. And a melee interaction instead of a weapon always brought people who wanted to fight for their lives. And that is why the commission chose you to do that, without any partner.

They elected you because you fought like a super soldier, focused on your goal like a robot, and never came back without success. It didn't matter how many fights you had to fight with your target, how many punches you had to throw and also take, or how many injuries you returned. You always won.

Over time, you learned things in practice, tricks that made it easy, scams that would save you effort. You learned to study each person in seconds, find their weaknesses, and use his own strength against them.

That's when you met Five Hargreeves. And Thomas Merton's quote made sense.

You two were so much similar. Both the best in their fields, wrecked in a sea of personal traumas, buried by a job that got the best of you two. You two felt misunderstood, alone in the vastness of that world. And when you two met... well, were no longer alone.

You two got involved, in all possible ways and ways. Loved each other, adored each other, and completed each other. Life went out of automatic mode, and for the first time in a long time, you two managed to breathe lightly. The food now tasted good, the heat of the sun on the skin was now better, and the world... the world was ruled by the red color of love.

So it became the most obvious and coherent decision to you two get married. Five could no longer imagine a life in which you did not exist, and you did not know how the world could go without him.

“I can't believe we did that!” You laughed, astonished, as you entered the apartment that you and Five shared.

You two had just married, something just for you two and the ceremonialist. You two chose something very intimate, reserved. And now the ring on him left hand looked like the most beautiful thing in the world for you.

Five laughed softly, hands moving up your arms, bringing you closer.

“We did. Wife.”

After that, your two contract with the commission changed. Five would only continue to do that if no one dared to touch a hair of yours, and you swore to The Handler that if someone did something to Five, you would destroy that place brick by brick.

Five saw in you a strong and atrocious ocean, which could swallow whole cities only with the force of its fury. And he liked that. He liked having someone as competent and firm as he was. Five liked to know that if there was a disaster, he would not be the only one who would go after a solution.

You were the type who knew that if you wanted things to happen, you had to do it with your bare hands. And Five loved it, because he felt understood. He carried so many responsibilities on his back that it was relieving to find someone who also felt the same things.

Five knew that, when him found way home, you were going with him. And you went. You two exchanged vows that would be together in joy and sadness, in any situation. And if the situation now said to go to 2019, well, you would.

“It makes me so sick, God!” Five heard you say when you two fell out of that blue portal he created.

He would have laughed if his muscles didn't hurt so much. For someone so trained you got sick of his powers very quickly.

"Five?!” And then the voice of one of the brothers was heard.

And that's how you two ended up there. A week later, in the Hargreeves' living room, with Diego swearing that you wouldn't be able to beat him in a fight.

Five laughed against the margarita's straw, sitting comfortably at the bar, giving up on telling his stupid brother that you had already killed much more dangerous people with your bare hands.

“I do not want to hurt you.” You smiled understandingly, and Klaus laughed.

“I bet 50 bucks that she beats your ass, Diego.” It was only logical that he was going to encourage his brother to fall.

“There is no way you can hurt me.” Diego guaranteed, getting up and starting to push the sofa away, making room for a fight.

“Are you up for it or are you scared?” He played with you, and Five laughter it back there, having a lot of fun.

“This is ridiculous, Diego.” Allison stressed, but it was obvious that she wanted to watch too.

You smirked, getting up from the bar chair next to Five. You didn't want to defeat your husband's brother in that fight, you understood that the circumstances between the two of you were not fair.

You were created to kill, injure and decimate. Body wrestling was your job and it wouldn't be fair to Diego. You knew, from Five, that the Hargreeves were created to be heroes. Saviors of the motherland. Hurt and kill if necessary, but don't make it a goal.

But not with you. Killing was your goal, always. And your weapon was not super powers or pistols, but the body itself.

“Okay.” You laughed and went to the circle that Diego had made “But I don't want to hurt you. The first one to fall to the ground loses.” You were trying to be peaceful.

Diego agreed, giving him a friendly smile before saying:

“But I will use my knives to distract you.”

It was logical that he wouldn't make it cheap and easy, even if it was for himself, you knew that.

So you agreed, took off the suit you were wearing and rolled up the sleeves of your white dress shirt, while the Hargeeves sat in a safe area, away from that makeshift ring.

Diego delivered the first blow, and you just deflected the trunk, taking him by the same arm and twisting it against his back. At that moment, if it was something for real, you would put more strength to break the bone, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you just released Diego with a little push forward.

Diego turned to face you again, the naughty smile on the face of someone who knows his own potential. He was very good, you knew that, but the different upbringing made you a better opponent.

This time, the blow came from below. It was a trip that you jumped while pulling on the fist he used to land another blow in the same second, forcing him to come forward with force while you deflecting once more. Diego staggered forward, steadying himself on the floor once again.

It was all absurdly fast, as if you were a robot. A machine programs for that.

Diego hurled the knife in the wind while attacking with his other fist. You dodged again, but this time you struck back, slamming a blow down the side of your stomach, blocking his attack with your other arm and unleashing a kick in the chest, which made Diego stagger backward.

In a matter of seconds, the knife was at the end of its course. And while Diego was advancing again, the wind that the knife was making hit your hair. But the knife didn't finish course. You stopped the blade with your hand, holding to the object with your palm.

At that moment, you saw Diego's eyes falter. And a surprised gasp by the Hargreeves graces the ambience. Then it was your turn to attack. You threw the knife on the floor, driving the blade into the wooden floor as you went.

There were punches, deflected blows, creeps. The two of you were dancing to an agitated song, which was reaching its climax.

Diego had holding you in him arms, and you turned your body, locked him left arm in your hands while you used the momentum to propel your legs up, past his neck and turning, taking you both to the floor. He fell on his back while you used your own momentum to balance yourself, standing upright.

“YES! YOU OWM ME 50 DOLLARS!" Klaus's voice was heard.

You laughed, and you were about to walk away when Diego dug his left hand into your heel. He pulled you in a single stroke, and it made you fall, your back hitting the ground as he took the lead. Diego put his legs on your hips the first second you fell on the floor, and he used his own strength to keep you there.

You laughed out loud, and so did he.

“This is cheating!” You scolded him, punching him in the chest.

“Whatever, but you had to fall too!”

Diego was a good loser, you recognized that by the intonation of the voice. He was not possessed or reviled because you won, but he wanted it to be an eye for an eye, even if only as a joke.

But as soon as Diego got up off you, holding your hand for you got up too, your eyes went to Five. And you found the green irises burning in an atrocious fire. You frowned, not understanding, but you didn't have time to go over there and ask what happened. Klaus and Luther came to you and Diego.

Klaus charging his brother and Luther asking you how you did that final blow.

“It's for me to use when he pisses me off!” Luther looked directly at his brother in a silent threat “ But he will not get up alive!”

“Fuck you” Diego said before practically shoving 50 dollars in Klaus's face.

“Is easy.” You replied Luther “I'll show you."

But while the brothers were having fun, marveling at you, Five burned in a visseral cholera.

Wasn't it enough for Diego to have literally been on top of you, you had to want to teach that stupid gorilla too ?!

Oh fucking no!

When Diego went to Luther and started explaining with you, him your side, how the scam worked, Five was exploding. Now that stupid men butcher knife would be on your side?! Agreeing and explaining whit you as if it were your husband?!

Wasn't it enough just fucking being on top of you?!

Definitely fuck not!

“Take it easy, buddy.” Klaus appeared beside him “You are looking at them as if you want to kill someone.”

Five just snarled, not bothering to respond, his eyes never leaving you.

“Wait..." Klaus looked better at who Five was staring “Are you jealous of Y/n ?!” He was amazed.

“Shut up!” Five forced himself to swallow a handful of margarita.

“Oh my God!” And he wouldn’t stop “You like her! That must be why you live in a bad mood! You must be in the friend zone! ”

“Didn't I tell you to shut up already ?!” Five looked deathly at his brother “And I'm not in the friend zone with her.”

But Five realized that he gaved too much information to his brother, because now Klaus's face was opening in a shocked smile.

Goddam!

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Klaus was loving the situation.

But, out of the corner of his eye, Five can see Diego holding your arm, showing Luther the place to deliver any stupid blow.

You gotta be fucking kidding!

“No, that girl is my wife!” Five tapped the margarita glass on the counter, teleporting to you and pushing Diego's hand off your arm, replacing his own.

“The show over!” He growled as he left the room, pulling you with him, your feet stumbling a few times before picking up the pace.

“Five!” You said, but he didn't seem to hear.

The image of Diego's legs at your fucking waist, the body sitting on you, the hand on your arm, rewound Five's mind like a curse. He felt his anger inflate, jealousy whispering in the back of his neck like a little devil, making him see the situation bigger than it really was.

You called him again, but for Five, it was like you called his brother's name. And then he exploded in his own fury.

He couldn't wait to go up all those stupid stairs, all those corridors, Five just pulled you against him, disappearing in the blue flash and reappearing in the his room.

“You are crazy?” You pulled the wrist out of his grip.

“I should be asking you that!” He said “Did you see that scene ?!”

“What a scene?” You frowned.

Five focused his eyes on you, in angry energy.

“Diego on top of you, fuck!" He snarled “Luther drooling like a dog on you!”

“Five.” You thought all that was absurd “They are your brothers!”

“You have no idea how much i don’t give a fuck!”

The situation was ridiculous, and you ended up laughing in disbelief and bewilderment.

“We were fighting!” You defended yourself "Nobody was drooling on me!"

“I swear to god tha ...” Five walked over to you, his eyes flooded with rage, his body enveloped in that intense and explosive energy.

You lifted chin to get a better look, your chest stuck to him, Five's breath hitting the top of your nose. That week had been full of emotions and issues to deal with, 24 hours being insufficient to do everything, explain everything. And, well, you and Five didn't have much time alone...

All of this compiled with the fact that your husband possessed the beauty of an angry god,and that excited you so fuck absurdly.

Suddenly, the air in the room became caustic, seething with the expectation of something improper happening, injecting heat into your chest that descended to the middle of your legs.

You sighed softly, and Five immediately noticed the waters where your thoughts were sailing.

“Does it turn you on?” His voice was hoars “See me angry?”

The sigh you gave was your whistleblower, your chest started to rise and fall more breathlessly than usual, your core starting to pulse. You wouldn't be able to say anything even your life would depended it, you drowning in the malicious and hot climate of that room, compiled with the absurd beauty and intensity of the adult in front of you.

God, you needed him!

“Yes, you like.” Five had an arrogant, boastful tone, mocking how sensitive you were.

But his eyes took on a more conscious tone, and he whispered as he said: "Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop. ”

Five knew his own limits, his own anger, his own strength. If he touched you now, in most simple, he wouldn't be able to stop. You agreed, hands moving gently up his body, resting on him hips.

“I will not be gentle.” Five wanted to you know again.

He had already fucked you hard, drowned in insatiable desire, marking your skin with slaps, hickeys. Five had already mistreated your mouth, made you scream. But never fucked you in anger. He never took his anger out on you. And now, submerged in jealousy, he knew how much strength he would discharge on you.

“I don't want it to be.” But you gave Five the go-ahead on a needy sigh, your fingers running around his waist.

Five dropped his mouth to your ear, tracing a path across your skin with warm lips, now bringing hands up to your skin, feeling how hot, needy you were.

“You're wet and I haven't even touched you yet.” His words hung over you like a warm warning of what was going to happen, what to expect.

You moaned softly, your body shivering, screaming for you to get more, seeking some friction, some contact. Then, as if Five read you thoughts, his left hand clung fiercely to the back of your neck, curling him fingers in your hair.

He forced you to look at him, watching the rage and the extraordinary lust.

“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

Five left you brutally, telling you to take off all your clothes, watching all your movements while he got rid of the shirt himself. He left him tie beside the bed, sitting on the mattress and pulling you onto him lap as soon as you finally got naked. He fit thigh in the middle of your legs, making you sit on his thigh.

You groaned, the friction in the place you most wanted, the core pulsing against the dark cloth of him pants. You rummaged your hips for more than you wanted, but Five dropped his hand on your ass, releasing a loud, stinging slap. The groan was unable to be controlled, and you buried your face in the curve of him neck, sobbing there.

“You will be grateful for every slap I give you, do you understand?” He snarled, fingers tightening on your flesh, marking your skin.

You agreed, and thanked him when Five slapped your ass harder. This time, he moved him thigh beneath you, brushing your pulsating core, leaving you in an extremely needy state.

“Fi-five!" A sob escaped, followed by another thanks when a slap hit your in ass again.

Five's hands roughly grabbed your waist, holding you firmly in place as he started to rummage in him thigh, making you moan louder every second. That was torture. You pulsed and wet him thigh, your body rigid from wanting more of that friction, the sobs escaping your lips, the muscles contracted.

“Such a needy slut." He snarled in your ear “So desperate for my thigh.”

You groaned at him words, your fingers around him shoulders, squeezing there while Five took you so badly in him thigh. He dropped his mouth to your hot neck, pouring a hickey there before sighing hoarsely:

“The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

It sent electric currents to your swollen core, and moans got even bigger when Five increased the speed of his movements, rubbing your clitoris in those mind-boggling movements. His strong grip, compiled wheezing on his neck, his hoarse voice and the movements of his thigh took you to the limit. And you were pushed into that abyss of the climax.

“So fucking quickly.” Five delighted, in a groan, and stuck his hands on your back, holding you there, turning you in one movement to the bed.

Your back hit the mattress, Five’s warm hands roamed your legs, squeezing thighs and parting them, exposing your wet, red core at the climax. Five groaned loudly, as if seeing you hurt physically, and he took his hands off you to grab the tie next to you.

“Be good and open your mouth for me.” You obeyed, and he wiped the cloth over there, fastening his tie.

You sighed brokenly, your heart beating fast, breasts stiff and sore, your ass burning with slaps, core sensitive to climax.

“I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth." Five reflected, him hands roaming your trembling body, squeezing every bit of skin, reveling in how your skin felt at him touch.

Five reveled in the breath you took, enjoying how you looked like a fucking goddess like that. So vulnerable, so needy, so needy.

He was controlling himself until now, pushing you to the limit, making you sensitive, teasing you, making you sensitive to what was coming. Him smile was purely lustful, and Five leaned toward you, roughly sucking the nipple from your breast, nibbling at the needy skin. Then he brought hands up to his pants, opening his belt and zipper, pulling the pieces down far enough for his dick to pop out.

The moan you gave when you felt the hot, luscious member on your thigh was enough to inflate him ego even more. Five turned your body down, pulling your waist up, leaning into your ear to whisper:

“I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget that day.” Then he entered you, rough, strong, badly.

He forced your walls to get used to him size and sank to the bottom of the well, clutching his hands to your hips and pulling you against him dick. You screamed against the tie, pressing your fingers to the pillows, sobbing when Five set a fierce, wild and badly pace, mistreating every inch of you.

One of him hands went to your neck, closing his fingers there and pouring out all the fury and jealousy he felt in the thrusts, going in as deep as he could and pushing your limit. The pornographic sounds of the two of you moaning, the sound of his hip hitting your ass, invaded the room, mixing with the smell of sex, lust and hunger.

You shouted him name when Five left and brutally entered you, making you choke on your own sobs.

“What's it? Are you unaccustomed to my dick?” He tasted it, leaving your neck to slap your ass aggressively “Is it too much for you?”

You sobbed, stopped by the tie, and Five hit you again.

“Do you think someone can fuck you like me?!”

Now him voice was angry and his movements too. Five fucked you like he had spent his whole life in fury at you, waiting patiently for the day when he would discount everything on you. Him hand went to your mouth, pulling tie from there and releasing your toxic moans.

“Answer me, fuck!” One more slap, leaving your ass on fire.

“N-no!” You cried “Nobody ... no-nobody fucks me like you!”

You talks with a more thrust, and Five pushed your chest to the bed, keeping his hand on your back, him moans mixing with your.

Then he reached the peak of anger.

Five came out of you, turned you up and bent your legs, placing your knees on your shoulders. He entered in a brutal way inside you, the new position making him occupy all the minimum vacant spaces. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, your hands tightening on his arms, your heart already racing.

It was too much. Your body begged for more, for the climax, for the lust, for anything fierce that Five could give you. He dropped his mouth on yours, biting your bottom lip instead of kissing you, making you swallow his lines when he said:

“Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that? ”

You desperately denied it. Five could very well come out of you and not let you come, and just that thought made your body tremble and tears flow.

“Plea-Please!” You sobbed “I beg you!”

That did things with Five. He stuck his body to your, him arm going around your waist and fucking you as if that could chase away all his anger. This time he kissed you, sticking his lips to yours as he felt you pulse around him and break up in a hushed scream, trembling at the climax.

Five did not falter, his black hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, his heart pounding. He cum strongly inside your core, filling you with hot cum. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as he came inside of you, slowly calming down.

The two of you sighed, the room flooding with the smell of sex and desire, your hearts thudding at the same pace. You whimpered in his mouth, and when Five want to leave inside you, you denied it, tightening your legs around him waist.

“N-No.” You moaned softly, "Stay inside, please."

Five drew air through his teeth, him hands gripping the sides of your body, stirring inside you, beginning to feel the lust rising.

He kissed you again, whispering:

“You want to have a child of mine, don't you?" It was an arrogant, provocative voice, and you sighed. “You are such a fucking sensitive little thing.”

Then Five started moving again, and you stayed in that room for much longer.

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