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hellcatinnc · 3 months

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How the Men Of Love And Deepspace Would Be On Being Fathers

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Warning This includes: SFW (Read Tags Before Continuing)

Tags: sfw, fathers, daddys, pregnancy, baby daddys, babies, baby rooms, morning sickness, fluff, love and deepspace, zayne, xavier, rafayel, lamaze, birth, pregnancy test, flirty, kuudere

Word Count: 2,292

Feature: x Fem! Reader

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Zayne

That moment when you show up at the hospital and he is in between surgeries. He has been there for over 24 hours now with all the wrecks of recently but you just can't wait to tell him. You let his nurses know to tell him that you will be waiting in the cafeteria until he has a moment. A couple hours have gone by and your play candy crush or one of your other addictive mobile games this week it might just be the new game that came out "Love and Deepspace". ;)

After time has passed you happen to look up yawning its nearly 9pm cafeteria hours are almost up but you see a shadow out of the corner of your eye. He is grabbing a few croissants and a few sweet treats then walks over at the table and sits down in front of you. Same Zayne you have always loved even though its hard to know what he is thinking you know he loves you in the little things he does for you. Like the fact he had already slid across the table your favorite pastry and coffee and he didn't even ask, he has been with you long enough to just get them now.

You take a deep breath then look at him "You're going to be a daddy!" You are so used to no expression so you expect it you just happen to tell him when he was sipping his coffee and he started coughing, it had gone down the wrong way because the moment he heard that he breathed in the liquid. After a few moments it took and he got his composure he looked back up at you. "I thought we been using protection and pills, you been on pills right?" You nod yes "Sometimes they aren't all full proof, you're a doctor you should know that."

He looks at you then sighs, "Well you know we financially can afford it but we will have to look for a bigger place and then balance our bank account and see what we need to take out each month on what we are going to buy for the baby's room. Then there is the care after they are born......" He trails off on this logic train you lean over put your finger to his lips "Shhh, honey lets take one day at a time. For now its to be happy that we are going to have a little one together. Tomorrow on we can think about the logics but for now lets just be happy. I mean you are happy right?" He nods yes, you know he is just freaking out under it all but you wouldn't expect it any other way than him trying to plan ahead to make sure you and the baby is taken care of.

He always goes out of his way to make sure you are safe and secure and he wants to do the same for you during your pregnancy right on into having the baby. You two think differently however this ride you will be on having a baby you will teach him to breathe and feel the baby kick, and he will be there making sure your lined up for the best daycares and have just enough diapers when you come home from the hospital. He doesn't always tell you how he feels but the next 9 months he will be the man who brings you home lotions to give your feet massage from where they are swelling due to water weight in the pregnancy. He will pick up you prescription on his way home for lunch for your prenatal. He is there holding your hair out of the way when you have morning sickness in the toilet. He helps you decorate the baby room with a more clean look to it but not to childish but with name brand stuff in the room.

The day the baby is born it will be induced earlier since he was able to get one day off the clock to be there for you in the emergency room. He will be there holding your hand as you push. Because he is a doctor you won't have to worry about him being squeamish. He is there when they cut the ambilocal cord and he is the first one with his baby in his arms. Its a little girl looking up at her daddy in that moment you see a smile curl up on his face. If no one else can get an expression from him the moment he sees her she melts his icy demeaner and thats how she will always be wrapping her daddy around her little fingers.

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Rafayel

You show up at his art studio day and you wanted to surprise him with lunch because he has a habit getting caught up in his artwork and sometimes forgets to eat. You step inside and see him painting away and don't want to startle him so you go sit on the couch and set up a little lunch picnic on the table for him. He happens to look back at one point sees you there and heads over to you walking over leaning in and kissing your lips first as he gives you a playful smile. "This looks amazing, also you look absolutely radiant today. Something new about you darling?" No sooner than he says that you think your sweet Raffy has been in tune with your emotions and feelings from the very start so doesn't surprise you that he can already tell your pregnant even though he doesn't know he can still notice the differences in changes in your appearance.

You nod yes as you pull out a box from your purse and hand it to him. Well Raffy loves getting gifts from you but he hadn't expected what was to come. Its a longer box so he is kind of surprised but smiles wide at you as he opens the box. He pushes the paper aside to see a pregnancy test sitting in the box. He flopped down in the chair and has a shocked look on his face. He starts to smile and looks up at you with tears starting to form in his eyes. "You.... Y-ou mean......I'm..I'm going to be a d-daddy?" His cute stutter was precious but with his actions, the tears in his eyes you knew you had picked the perfect partner to have a family with and spend your life with. You reach over wiping his tears out of his eyes and kiss him softly. "Yes my love, your going to be a daddy." He starts to chuckle a bit then gives you that sheepish smile he knows he did well to get you pregnant and you can see that gleam in his eyes he is proud of himself.

He is there every step of the way, you thought he was clingy before you haven't seen anything. He will make sure everything is done though, he will make food for you and keep the house cleaned up. Even though he is normally a messy person he refuses to be the reason you fall and get hurt or hurt the baby. He is sitting beside you in morning sickness wiping your face with a cool rag and handing you water in between getting sick so that you are keeping hydrated. He is all about going out shopping for baby stuff like cute rompers, and he will find little baby paint brush sets that look like paint brushes but are rattles instead. He will decorate the baby room by painting cute baby stuff all around the room. He will paint a underwater theme he did it with more of a kid friendly feel to match the rest of the baby room.

He is set and ready to go. Those 9 months are just not gonna go by fast enough for him. He is super excited and can't wait to meet his offspring. You will go to lamaze classes with him and sign up for a midwife to do a water birth. So the day you go in labor he will have the midwife on speed dial on his phone so that she can get over there and give birth to your child in the garden tub you have in the bathroom. No matter how much Rafayel tries to keep it together he gets dizzy at one point and looks away but refuses to leave your side. He holds your hand through it all no matter how much you scream at him he doesn't leave. When his daughter cries for the first time he is in tears looking down at his sweet little baby. First words out of his mouth is "I love my baby girl and thank you darlin for giving us such a beautiful family." Now its time for selfie time he will take a 100 of photos of you and him and the baby before the nights even over because he will be so proud. He will take care of everything while you recover after birth for the next couple weeks.

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Xavier

You sent him a text seeing if he was home and awake. When you got a response back he asked you if you wanted to come up and make them some pancakes. You agree because you know he is better on a full stomach and well rested so this would be the perfect time to tell him. You get up to his apartment and even though normally he doesn't get too excited when it comes to food he is all in ready for it. So you decide to get creative and after you make the pancakes you draw with the syrup the word daddy on the pancakes well that didn't work. No sooner than you sat the plate in front of him he jumped right into eating didn't even notice the words in syrup. You sit across the table and you sigh of course now you have to go a different route.

"Honey, have you ever thought about having kids?" The moment he hears you say this he almost chokes on his pancakes then looks up at you like you have got to be kidding. I mean sure have you ever thought Xavier would be good daddy material, probably not but hey its going to happen your pregnant and he is your boyfriend. He gives you that curious stare he likes to give like he is trying to figure out if your pulling his chain or if your serious. "I can't say I have." He says in a hurry but then goes back to eating like you had interfered with his enjoyment. You look directly at him put your hand on his hand as he looks up at you. "Well we are going to be having a baby, I'm pregnant!" He just stares at you like he is trying to figure out how to address this.

He sits there eating as he does so in silence like he is trying to figure out what to do next. You sit there uncomfortable thinking that he doesn't want you and the baby now. After some time he finishes his breakfast then grabs your hand and walks you to the bed. Pulls you onto it and into his arms where he wraps his arms around you. "I'm not prepared, nor am I ready. I have never wanted kids or even thought about them. However I feel for you like no one else, so lets see where this takes us." He made you happy in that moment, yeah sure he isn't over the moon but he is also still staying by your side through it all. He goes to the doctors appointments with you and finds out you are having a girl he had no performance thought.

You two went to appointments and he asked alot of questions. Went to help you get baby stuff for the house and he asked you to move in with him so that you two could be there through out the pregnancy. Whenever you got sick with morning sickness he would teleport you to the hospital. When it came to picking out baby furniture he just wanted the items to either be accented in stars or lights or both. He strung all the lights himself so that you dont have to do alot of work he wanted you to lay low while he did most everything so that your pregnancy stay healthy.

When it came the day you were to give birth you woke up from a sound sleep. So as he realized you were in labor he teleported you to the hospital. He wanted to be in the room with you but the moment they told you to push and the baby was crowning he got nauseated and passed out. When he woke up the baby was already laying in your arms. He crawled on to the hospital bed cuddling up to you watching you talk to you two's little girl. He looked down at her "She is so precious". you could tell he was interested in her even if he acted like he wasn't. When you got home you realized he had someone there cleaning up so you could focus on you and the baby. He still couldn't believe he was. He cuddled you two for a few hours and then he went and laid his head against you as you both snuggled up and pulled a bassinet next to you to put your baby in as he held you the rest of the night so you could get rest after the long day as well you felt safe.

#x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #Scenario Fanfics #scenarios #otome #x !female reader #!female reader #otome men #love and deepspace #rafayel #zayne #xavier #headcanons #shen xinghui #qiyu #li shen #sfw

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from-memphis-with-love · 25 days

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Hi. May I request a late 60s Elvis (charro era) in which he leaves the beard a little longer and female reader is horny because of it. He catches her staring intently until she jumps at him. Smut detailed, not rough but passionate and sensual. Thanks.

Stubble Trouble

(I won these unreleased photos of Elvis on the set of Charro! at an auction recently. I felt they were appropriately delicious for this one-shot)

Summary: Elvis comes home from filming Charro!, looking sexier than ever with a beard. You wish he never had to leave for work again. Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. But a little domestic fluff too?

You watch the horizon from the porch, the sun setting in a spectacle of orange and pink. The hush of twilight settles over the estate. Humidity clings to your skin, the balmy late summer air heavy with the scent of magnolias.

"Elvis car!" Olivia's voice pierces the calm, her small finger pointing down the winding driveway.

"That's right, baby girl. Daddy's home," you confirm, heart swelling with anticipation and a touch of melancholy. He's home, but for how long?

Will bounces on his toes beside you. "And he's got a beard!"

And indeed, it is your husband’s Cadillac, glossy and grand, pulling up a day early. You smile from ear to ear. Then, a shadow of concern—he's not alone. The Memphis Mafia spill out of the van behind him, their laughter and boisterous greetings disrupting the evening quietude.

You squint at the figure emerging last from the car. It's him, Elvis, with an unfamiliar scruff darkening his jawline. Your breath catches at the sight—your husband, yet somehow brand new.

Elvis’ eyes find you across the front yard, and the heat in his gaze makes your breath catch. But before he can reach you, a rocket shoots into his legs. "Dad! You're home!"

Your husband scoops up your eight-year-old son, giving him the hug of the century. "Hey there, buddy! Did you grow a foot while I was gone?" As your two boys roughhouse, your daughter Olivia, toddles over on wobbly legs. Elvis kneels down, peppering her chubby cheeks with kisses.

"Daddy, fuzzy!" Olivia's small hand reaches for Elvis's scruff. He chuckles, letting her chubby fingers explore his rough face. Her tiny brows furrow, her eyes well up. Her dimpled chin quivers. A baby sniffle pierces the air.

"Shhh." Elvis soothes, gently wiping away the beginnings of a tear with his thumb. He picks her up in his muscular arms, whispering into her ear. The cries recede; a whimsical giggle replaces them. "I missed you rascals something fierce. Were you good for Mama?"

"They were angels," you assure, joining the family huddle. "Welcome home, honey."

Dusting off his pants, Elvis rises to his feet, Olivia secured in one arm and Will clinging to the other. He approaches you, a certain swagger in his step that you've missed and his eyes flashing with something you know all too well—mischief. He sets the kids down and pulls you close, his kiss a sweet homecoming all its own. "Glad to be back, mama." His murmured endearment, the rasp of his beard on your skin, they feel so good that it makes your head spin.

"Welcome home, daddy," you reply, your voice steadier than your racing pulse. The feel of him, changed yet the same, stirs a dormant longing within you.

Your fingers itch to touch the unexpected growth shadowing his jaw. The beard transforms him, adds a rugged edge to the familiar contours of his face that you hadn't realized you'd long for until now. "This is new."

"Thought I'd try something different," Elvis replies, his smile a slow burn just for you. It lights a spark deep within, a yearning you've kept banked during those long nights alone.

"Huh. Looks good on you." You keep your voice light, but inside, desire smolders, fanned to life by this simple change.

"Thought you might like it." His voice drops, a secret shared amidst the din. "Come on in, we've got stories to tell," he says, motioning to the rowdy crew behind him.

You nod, masking disappointment. You'd hoped for privacy, for that passionate reunion you've been craving. But now, with the house about to burst with company, you steel yourself for another night of playing hostess rather than lover.

"Let's get settled first," you suggest, ushering the children ahead of you into the house.

The evening unravels in a blur of activity—dinner preparations, catching up, pick up football. Admittedly, it’s nice to have a house full of laughter, but you wonder when you might have a moment alone with your husband. Amidst it all, you steal glances at Elvis, the way his beard adds a new edge to his expressions, wondering how it might feel against your skin.

“Outta sodas,” you say, hiding a smile. You eye Elvis from across the room. He catches your gaze, the understanding immediately flashing in his eyes.

“I’ll help ya fetch ‘em,” he offers, rising from the couch where he’s been holding court. He follows you into the hallway. The two of you disappear into the cooler back room, away from prying eyes and eager ears.

Kneeling by the crate of chilled sodas, you feel the cool condensation against your fingertips. When you turn around, he’s right there, taking a step closer than necessary. His breath smells of mint and coffee; his eyes are full of promise.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. His hand brushes against your cheek, tender yet insistent. “Miss me?”

In answer, you turn and pull his mouth down to yours, kissing him with nearly six weeks worth of pent-up hunger. Your husband makes a surprised, pleased sound against your lips before taking control of the kiss, backing you up against the humming fridge.

"God, I missed you," he pants when you break apart. "Missed this. Feels like forever since I've had you all to myself."

“Since you’ve had me all to yourself?” you chide. “Elvis, you know I love the guys but did they really have to—”

But his hands quiet your thought. They’re everywhere, sliding under your shirt, dipping into the waistband of your jeans. You arch into his touch, desire spiraling through you. "We can't," you protest weakly. "Everyone's right out there..."

"Let ‘em wait." Elvis nips at your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue. "I've been dying to get my hands on you all day." The scratch of his whiskers is a delicious abrasion. It heightens every sensation as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. A shiver wracks your body as the coarse hair rubs over your hammering pulse point.

The contrast of his soft lips and wiry facial hair is dizzying, addicting. You tilt your head back with a breathy moan, giving him more access even as your hands ball in his shirt. Torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away before you lose all control.

Elvis chuckles darkly against your neck, the vibrations rumbling deliciously through you. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, how much you're loving the sensual brush of his beard on your skin. He drags his fuzzy jaw up to your ear, rasping delightfully against the sensitive flesh behind it.

"Been dreaming about this," he murmurs, his breath hot on your ear as his hands creep beneath your shirt. "About having you trembling for me, my beard on your soft skin as I love on every inch of you..."

You whimper, knees going weak at the erotic promise in his words, the tantalizing burn of his whiskers, the heat of his hard body pressing you into the cool metal of the fridge. It's almost too much, and yet you crave more, already addicted to this new sensation.

"Elvis, please..." you manage, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing you need him to never, ever stop.

Just as you are about to throw caution to the wind and let your husband take you right there, a knock sounds at the door.

"Hey, boss!" a voice calls. "Where'd you disappear to, man? Joe wants to run through the press junket schedule."

Elvis groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "To be continued," he promises darkly, adjusting himself with a wince.

Stepping back, you reluctantly adjust your clothing. "Raincheck," is all you say, and it's a promise as much as it is a plea. He presses a swift kiss to your lips before opening the door and putting his 'star' smile back on.

You stand frozen for a moment. You shake yourself off. You tell yourself there's always later, there's always tomorrow. You gather the sodas and head back into the main room.

The night drags on. Laughter echoes through the house, amplified by the clink of glasses, the strums of guitars. The party’s in full swing and being a good hostess occupies most of your evening.

You sneak glances at Elvis, at how his beard lends him a new ruggedness that makes your heart hammer in your chest. You long to run your fingers through it, trace the lines of his face. He sometimes looks back, his gaze lingering on you before being pulled away by someone else. His eyes tell you: soon.

Your youngest, Olivia, chatters animatedly about butterflies, and Will bounces around with an energy only an eight-year-old can muster. You enjoy watching them mingle with your friends—however, they also serve as persistent reminders that privacy is out of reach.

Around eleven o’ clock, the house begins to quiet down. People trickle out, leaving behind echoes of laughter and empty plates. The house seems bigger, emptier, a stark contrast to the fullness it held just moments ago. Later, after baths and bedtime stories, you and Elvis collapsed onto the couch together, Elvis pulling your feet into his lap. "I thought I’d never get a minute alone with you," he sighs, kneading your arches.

You let your head fall back, relishing his touch. "I love that you're so busy, but I hate having to share you."

"I'm all yours now, sweetheart." Elvis presses a kiss to your ankle, his beard tickling delightfully. He gives you a heated look from under his lashes. "For the rest of the night, I'm all yours."

Anticipation zings through your veins, and you reach for your husband, already breathless. As he gathers you close, kissing you deeply, you can’t help but think that sometimes, the only thing better than a homecoming... is what comes after.

You sit up, scooting closer to run your fingers over Elvis' fuzzy jaw. "You sure it's you under there? This beard makes you look mighty different," you tease, eyes twinkling. "Like a whole new man."

Elvis turns his head to nip playfully at your fingers, a mischievous glint in his eye. "That so? Should I be worried about this 'new man' stealing my girl?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Never. You know you're the only man for me, beard or no beard."

"Damn right," Elvis growls playfully, his hands settling on your hips as you shift to straddle his lap. "This 'new man' better know his place."

Draping your arms around his neck, you lean in close, your lips brushing his as you speak. "Oh, I don't know. He's pretty sexy. Rugged. Dangerous. Looks like a cowboy..." You let your voice drop to a husky whisper. "I might just be tempted..."

Elvis' fingers flex on your hips, pulling you flush against him. "Is that right?" He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, his beard rasping deliciously on your sensitive skin. "Well, I bet this 'new man' don't know how to touch you like I do."

You gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot, your back arching. "Mmm, I think you might be right," you manage breathlessly. "Better prove it to me, just to be sure."

"Gladly." Elvis captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair as he sits you on his lap. "Let me show you just how well this old dog knows your body, mama."

You surrender to his touch with a moan, the world falling away until nothing exists but you, Elvis, and the delicious abrasion of his beard on your skin as he sets about thoroughly, blissfully reminding you that he's the only man who could ever make you feel this good.

Your mouths meet in a searing kiss, weeks of pent-up longing pouring out in a slick slide of lips and tongues. You rock against him, reveling in the growing hardness pressing against your center.

His hands roam your back, dipping under your shirt to stroke the smooth skin beneath. You mewl into his mouth, desire turning molten in your veins.

Just as you are considering the logistics of riding him right there on the couch, a creak on the stairs has you jumping apart like scalded cats. You hold their breath, waiting to see if one of the kids had woken up.

After a moment of tense silence, Elvis blows out a shaky laugh. "Probably not the best idea to get carried away down here, huh?"

On trembling legs, you climb off his lap, reaching down to adjust the prominent bulge in his jeans. "Probably not," you agree, giving him a heated look. "Bedroom?"

“Just gimme five minutes, I have to take off my makeup first.”

You feel Elvis’ presence behind you before you see him, the heat of his gaze pressing against your skin like a physical touch.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, see him leaning shirtless against the doorframe, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his silk pajama pants. That luscious beard frames the wicked slash of his smile. He looks so good it's almost sinful. "See something you like?" His voice is a husky rumble.

"You could say that." You bite your lip, watching his eyes darken. "I really, really like this new look on you."

He prowls closer, crowding you against the vanity. "Yeah? Is that so?"

You turn in his arms, running your hands appreciatively over the firm planes of his chest. "It makes you look dangerous. Sexy."

Elvis dips his head to nuzzle your throat, the coarse brush of his whiskers making you shiver. "Sexy, huh? How sexy?"

"So sexy it should be illegal." You drag your mouth to his, kissing him with rising urgency. "Take me to bed," you demand against his lips. "Now."

Elvis wastes no time complying, lifting you easily into his arms and carrying you to the bed. He tumbles you onto the sheets, covering your body with his, both of you already breathing hard.

He undresses you slowly, almost reverently, rough fingertips and soft lips and scratchy beard worshipping every inch of skin he unveils. When he finally settles between your thighs, the first intimate rasp of his whiskers makes you cry out, fisting your hands in his hair.

"God, the way you taste," Elvis rasps against your slick folds, his voice rough with desire. "I'll never get enough."

He seals his lips around your most sensitive bundle of nerves and sucks gently, making you cry out and fist your hands in his hair. He groans in response, the vibrations shooting sparks of electricity through your core.

"Please," you whimper, hips rocking shamelessly against his face. "Don't stop..."

Elvis answers with a deep, approving hum, the tip of his tongue flicking over you in maddening little licks. "Never," he murmurs, beard and hot breath on your inner thighs a delicious contrast to his soft, demanding mouth on you. "Want to make you fall apart, over and over. Worship you with my mouth until you forget everything but my name..."

His words, low and fervent and filthy, push you to the brink as much as his dedicated ministrations. You sob out a broken plea as he wraps his lips around you again and sucks hard, pushing two thick fingers into your dripping channel at the same time.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes gutturally, crooking his fingers just right and rubbing ruthless circles around your swollen, aching bud. "Let me feel you, let me taste you falling apart..."

With a keening cry you shatter, back bowing and fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as your release crashes over you in pulsing waves. Elvis works you through it with lips and tongue and fingers, drawing out your pleasure until you collapse against the sheets, boneless and trembling. His beard is gleaming with your slick.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel Elvis pressing tender kisses to your inner thighs, his whiskers a thrilling friction on your sensitive skin. You tug gently on his hair, urging him up your body until you can capture his mouth in a deep, languorous kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you shudder, your spent body already sparking with renewed desire.

"I wanna make you feel good too," you murmur against his lips, nipping playfully at the full bottom one. "I want to show you how much I missed you, how much I need you..."

Elvis' groan is low and needy as you push gently at his shoulders, encouraging him onto his back. You take your time mapping his chest with lips and fingers, re-memorizing every ridge and plane. He's lost in pleasure, muscles jumping under your touch, his breathing ragged as you chart a slow, meandering path down his long torso.

When you reach the waistband of his pajamas, you pause, looking up at him from under your lashes as you hook your fingers under the elastic. Elvis meets your gaze, his own heated and dark with want, his lips parted as he pants softly. Slowly, teasingly, you peel the fabric down, your heart racing in anticipation as his hardness is revealed inch by tortuous inch.

"God, look at you," you breathe, taking in the proud jut of his cock straining towards his belly. A thrill chases down your spine knowing that you did that to him, that he wants you just as desperately as you want him. "Look at this husband of mine... so hard for me already."

"Always," Elvis rasps, his voice strained and his hands fisting in the sheets as you ghost your fingers up his length. "Feels like I'm going to burst out of my skin with how bad I need you..."

You hum in satisfaction, running your thumb over the slick head and making him shudder. Slowly, you lower your lips, never breaking eye contact as you breathe hotly over where he's aching for you. "Let me take care of you," you whisper, a promise and a plea all in one. "Let me show you how much I love you."

Then you take him into your mouth, and the broken moan that spills from his lips is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

You work him with spit and fingers and lips and tongue and just the barest hint of teeth, relishing every helpless sound you wring from him. You can feel how close he is, his thighs trembling, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. With a wicked hum, your relax your your throat and take him as deep as you can.

Elvis lets loose a stream of garbled curses, his hips jerking erratically. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna—"

But you just doubl your efforts, holding his gaze as you hollow your cheeks and suck hard. With a guttural cry, Elvis spills himself down your throat, his chest heaving as you gentle him through his sweet release.

"Christ," he pants as you release him and crawl up to drape yourself over his chest. "That was... You are..." He gives up and just hauls your mouth to his, kissing you breathless.

As you trade slow, deep kisses, you feel Elvis stirring against your thigh once more. A thrill chases down your spine at the evidence of his desire, your own body responding in kind. Wrapping your hand around his length, you stroke him gently, savoring the velvety heat of him and the way he pulses in your grip. "Already?" you tease. "Someone's eager."

Elvis nips your bottom lip. "Six weeks," he reminds you, rocking into your grip with a grunt. "You're lucky I lasted five minutes."

Giggling, you straddle his his hips, rubbing yourself along his length until you are both panting. "I think you ought to get to practicing then," you purr. "We've got weeks to make up for."

Elvis groans into your mouth, his hips rocking instinctively into you. "Need you," he pants against your lips, voice rough with want. "Need to be inside you..."

You nod desperately, just as aching to have him filling you up after so long apart. Rising up on your knees, you position him at your entrance, your breath catching as you slowly sink down onto his rigid length. His beard rasps against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

Your body resists the intrusion at first, unaccustomed to the stretch after weeks without him. Elvis gentles you through it with soft kisses and soothing caresses, whispering words of love and praise as you take him inch by careful inch. The slight discomfort quickly melts into exquisite pleasure as he breaches you fully, your inner walls fluttering around him as you adjust to the thick, heavy feel of him inside you.

"God, baby," Elvis rasps, his big hands gripping your hips almost tight enough to bruise. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he's fighting for control. "You feel so good. So tight. Like you were made just for me..."

You let out a shuddering sigh as you settle fully into his lap, relishing the sensation of being one with him again. "I was," you breathe, rolling your hips experimentally and making you both gasp. "Only for you. Always."

Slowly, you start to move, rising up until he nearly slips out of you before sliding back down to the hilt. Elvis meets your every downward stroke with an upward roll of his pelvis, burying himself impossibly deep. You set a slow, burning rhythm, sweat beading on your skin as you rock together, drawing out every delicious drag of him inside you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders and your thighs tremble with exertion, but you barely register the strain. All you can focus on is your husband—his panting breaths and reverent gaze, the thick slide of his cock stretching you again and again, the heat of his body surrounding you and grounding you. In this moment, joined so intimately after what felt like an eternity apart, everything else fades away.

"Missed this," you grit out, your hands roaming restlessly over his back, his neck, scratching the dark hair on his jaw. "Missed you. I love you so damn much."

You rock together, slow and dirty, skin slick with sweat. Clutching at his shoulders, his back, urging him deeper, harder. The wiry scrape of his chest hair and beard against your sensitive nipples makes you writhe on top of him, the added stimulation almost too much to bear.

"Touch yourself," he rasps in your ear, changing the angle of his hips so he is grinding against your clit with every stroke. "Make yourself come on my cock, sweetheart."

You obey with a whimper, fingers flying to your center. Elvis eases you onto your back, gripping your thighs as he gently eases back into you, eyes black with lust as he watches you touch yourself. A private show for his eyes only.

The sight of him above you—miles of tanned skin, thick forearms corded with muscle, narrow hips rolling into you—combined with the magic you are working between your legs undoes you in record time. With a desperate whimper, you convulse around him, fingernails scoring his chest as you fall apart.

"I love you so much," Elvis sighs, fucking you through it. "One more, baby, give me one more."

He lowers himself even closer to you now, spreading your knees wide against his thighs and hugging you close to his chest. Enveloping you and never letting you go. You cling onto him with a sob, the new position letting him fill you impossibly deep. Elvis’ hands cup your backside, helping to fuck you a slow, tantalizing rhythm.

“My wife, my wife,” he moans and his beard rasps the tender skin of your neck and he bites and sucks, stoking the heat building low in your belly.

"Elvis," you keen, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He holds you closer, whispering unintelligibly into your ear. "Oh god..."

He reaches between your bodies to rub tight circles around your bud, and the sensation combined with the delicious drag of him inside you sends you flying. You come with a silent scream, back arching, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Elvis follows you a heartbeat later, burying his face in your neck with a muffled shout. You rock together through the aftershocks, until you collapse bonelessly underneath his sweat-slicked chest.

Tumbling back against the pillows, you are a tangle of sated, trembling limbs. Elvis’ big hands soothe up and down your belly, his lips pressing soft kisses to your sweat-damp temple.

"Why do I ever leave?," he murmurs roughly. "I hate being away from you and the kids. Felt like I left a piece of myself behind." He pauses. "This is my favorite part of coming home. Having you in my arms again."

Emotion clogs your throat. "I wish it could always be like this." You look up at him, tracing his bearded jaw tenderly. "That you didn't have to leave so often."

"About that..." Elvis' arms tighten around you. "I've been thinking a lot lately. Y'know, about the stuff that really matters to me. And that's you and the kids. I'm gonna talk to Parker, see about cutting back on some of these long stretches away."

Your heart soars even as you search his face cautiously. "You mean it? You'd do that?"

"For you, mama? Anything." He seals his promise with a slow, sweet kiss. "I'm here now. and I aim to be here a lot more."

Tears prick your eyes, joy and relief overwhelming. "I'd love that," you whisper, lacing your fingers with his. "The kids would too."

“Yeah, me too,” he sighs. “Feels like I lose a little piece of me every time I’m gone.”

You nuzzle into his neck, relishing the prickle of his beard on your well-loved skin. "Looks like you found a new piece while you were gone," you tease. "I must say, I'm a fan."

"You really like it?" Elvis sweeps a hand over his scruffy jaw, grinning. "Maybe I'll keep it. Hey, if it gets you this hot for me, I may never shave again."

You just laugh, pulling him down for a long, slow kiss. You’d had a feeling that this stint away had made him rethink his priorities, and that maybe you’d be seeing a lot more of him— beard and all—in the coming months.

And as you snuggle down into your husband's embrace, his contented rumble vibrating through you, you decide there was nowhere on earth you’d rather be than right here, wrapped up in his arms. Beard burn and all.

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @atleastpleasetelephone

#elvis smut #charro #elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis x oc #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader

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nanamimizz · 1 year

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tags:angst to comfort, implied age gap (kishibe is older than reader), break up and back together, cigarettes and alcohol mentioned.

synopsis: in trying to save your heart, kishibe breaks it anyhow - i guess it’s only fair he puts it back together again right?

what is love if it does not endure?

you stand next to kishibe, in the alleyway next to the bar public safety is celebrating at. you can hear power and denji cheering for aki to finish another pint as you stare off into the street, cigarette in hand. you don’t really smoke, you just like the smell of it since kishibe always smells like cigarettes.

“still out here?” he asks and he knows it isn’t about how you aren’t inside eating fried chicken and drinking beer with your colleagues. kishibe sees that look in your eye, and it takes his breath away at how they sparkle like diamonds in the milk light of the full moon.

“you are too, aren’t you?” and if it where another night, maybe at his apartment where your clothes are still untouched sitting next to his in his dresser he would have snorted, brought you in closer to lay a kiss on your sweet face, rubbing his stubble into your cheek until you squealed.

“so? how’d it go?”

“tamaki? he’s nice, but not really my type. paid for my cab though.” you muttered, eyes down and locked onto the orange ember on the cigarette. it’s smoke coils around you two, a veil for a moment not meant for the outside world.

the world was just the two of you - no devils, no humans, no guns and no paperwork. just you and him, maybe that’s why your apartment always felt like home when he spent the night?

“good man.” is all he can say, even though he pushed you away, he can’t stomach the idea of you with another man. the ember on the cigarette burns away more of it and you watch with dark eyes at how it flakes off onto the concrete.

“i miss you.”

“you shouldn’t.” kishibe says, voice deep and rough.

“i know, i still do.” you return, voice soft and smooth.

“i’ll just break your heart. you should want for more.” you shut your eyes, leaning your head back until it rests on the cool building. the concrete digs into your back and suddenly you feel like you are back in your apartment, this argument already having been said one hundred times before.

“you are breaking my heart right now, trying to push me away like this.” you mutter, words carried by the night wind into his ears and he sighs, in a deep bone tired way. this whole ordeal tires him, ages him far more than 30 years at this shithole of a job where each day might be his last. he’s had plenty of women before you but he’s never cared enough about them to take care of them, to cherish them the way he does with you.

it’s why he thinks he’s finally in love for the first time in a long time or maybe, this is his first love and you are bringing the man he thought died a long time ago back from the grave. another portion of the cigarette flakes off and falls to the concrete of the city, it pains him when he thinks about how that’s the brand he smokes.

“what do you want me to do?” he asks, and the words are heavy like iron on his tongue. you respond back without missing a beat, as if the words where in your mouth the moment you where born and have been waiting for this moment to speak them.

“take me home, and keep me there. don’t leave me ever again.” you say, the words shaky as something bites at the back of your eyes - tears you both realize as you wipe at them furiously with the backs of your hands. you didn’t want to cry, but like with most things kishibe can pluck all reservations in your heart and make you bear it in full.

“shhh…don’t cry come one…i’ll take you back.” kishibe finds himself comforting you, doting is a word never used to describe him but he likes to think its from how direct he is and how he can’t bear to see you cry. he touches for the first time tonight, a calloused thumb soothing away the tear track on your cheek. kishibe tries not to let the way you relax into his touch go to his heart but like always when faced with you he fails and falls anyways.

he takes you by the hand, calls a cab and you head to his apartment. it makes you wetly laugh and hiccup at how the things you left are still right where you left them. your toothbrush in a cup while kishibe’s lays on the counter ready to fall. the lipstick you haven’t been able to find sits next to the lighter he keeps in his room. your pajamas are next to his folded on the bed.

when you wake up the next morning, late in the first rays of the sun as the clock reads 10:00 you find that the tear tracks and the smoke from the night before are gone, replaced by the way kishibe’s hair shines in the low light of day.

#lamb.writes #kishibe x reader #kishibe angst #kishibe fluff #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man fluff #chainsaw man angst #csm.

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acermp100 · 1 month

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WAWA WEEK PART 4: WAWA RISING

28/3 – Animals/Food: KITTIES

This one is just silly. Based loosely on this.

Mob and Serizawa chill together during a Reigen sanctioned break. Kittens ensue.

General audience. More implied seri/rei. I think I added it to everyone of these I'm sorry.

2700~ words

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The sun still hung high in the air with a few puffy, white clouds keeping the air cool enough to be pleasant. This part of town would be busy in a few hours but right after lunch it sat quite empty. They walked past only a few people heading back to work. Bird song could be heard from the row of trees leading up to a small, communal park.

Serizawa had been here before, but only in passing. He found himself distracted by all the nature he had never noticed: butterflies and caterpillars as a squirrel of some sort gnawed at a nut on one of the tree branches.

“Alright crew!”

Reigen stopped walking, causing the others to halt as well. Serizawa went stiff as a board.

“We mistimed that last client.” And there went the hands. Serizawa watched them as they emphasized every word. “And having completed the prior service faster than expected, as well as finishing lunch early, we now have accrued and extra hour before our next appointment.”

All three had been together for the day, Reigen, Mob, and Serizawa, traveling from one home to another after someone got a brilliant scheme to charge even more for house calls. Personal Psychic Visits call today!

“Do we go back for more lunch?” Mob looked up at his boss waiting for an answer.

“Or maybe, um-“ Serizawa turned away as he played with his hands infront of him. “Get some- uh- office supplies?”

“Haha. Your answers are exactly why I have prepared this task for you.” Reigen brought a hand to his face before drawing it down in a long arc. “You two are going to take a break!”

Mob and Serizawa blinked back.

Reigen let out a sigh. “Look just- just go to that park over there and sit down for a while. Ok?”

“Oh.” Serizawa gave a bow. “Thank you, Reigen-san!”

He followed behind Mob through the little gate into a shaded patch flanked by large trees. Their leaves danced in the light breeze creating little rays of sun that shone onto the surface of the small fountain at the center. A few benches circled the meager, but peaceful area. With no one else around they sat down together and took a moment to enjoy that special kind of silence that only nature could provide.

“I’ve never done this before.” Serizawa spoke after a bit. “Just taking a break in the middle of everything I mean.” A concerned grin. “Especially not for Spirits and Such!”

Mob looked out through the park into the street that ran by before turning back. “I think Shishou just wanted us out of the way so he could go pitch salt lamps to that café owner.”

A nod from Serizawa. “Ah, he did bring them up during the meal.”

“And the owner seemed interested.” Mob replied.

Serizawa tried to see if he could spot Reigen from this distance. Through one of the café windows there appeared to be someone doing part of a gymnastics routine. Yeah. That was probably him.

A few birds flitted by, landing on a low hanging branch before hoping up and along to another, singing as they went. Taking time off felt right: a little break to gather one’s self and be in the moment. Serizawa watched Mob start to lightly kick his legs back and forth under him, before he too looked down at his own feet and followed along. When he was in school this would have been branded as a pointless waste of time. In Claw he would have been told to stop goofing off and focus. A butterfly landed on one of the flowers that bloomed around the fountain, lowering its wings before bringing them together.

“Hey, do you hear that?”

Sitting up with a jerk, Serizawa broke from his pseudo meditation. “Hear what??”

“Shhh.” Mob was leaning down, trying to see under the bench. “Not so loud.”

“Hear what?” Serizawa repeated in a barely audible whisper.

All he could manage to detect was the bird song above. But then, one of the calls sounded too different and much lower. Both of them looked up at the opposite bench as the weeds underneath began to shift and rustle.

“Mree!”

A small, white kitten wandered out from the grass. It had little spots of black fur on his face and legs with one front paw being nearly all dark making it appear as if it was wearing one large sock. This was the leg it was lifting up as it cried out, steadily making its way towards Serizawa and Mob.

“Awww!” Serizawa brought his hands up to his face. “It’s so tiny! Is it hurt??”

Mob slid off the bench and crouched down, holding out his fingers. “I think so.” In a higher pitched voice he cooed to the little kitten. “Come here! It’s ok, we’re nice.”

The kitten paused for a moment before trotting over with increased speed, going straight for a headbutt and rub against Mob’s leg. More high pitched mews rang out.

“I wonder if its mom is near.” Mob gently pet the tiny thing as it pawed at his hand. The hurt leg seemed fine now.

“We can check the bushes.” Serizawa joined him, sitting in the cool grass. “His little spots are so, cute like a tiny cow.”

The kitten tripped, rolling over before making sure to give Serizawa’s leg a good rub too. Another round of meows. But this time there were far more, all cascading over one another in a growing choir.

“Oh my-“

Serizawa gripped his chest. Two more kittens came out of the far bush. No, three. Five?

“There’s so many!” Mob found them tumbling over each other to get onto his lap as well as Serizawa’s.

Now eight in total kittens, some black and white like the first, others ginger or tabby, were circling, climbing, and mewing up a storm with their new found human friends. Serizawa hand’s began to shake as he struggled to give each one the attention they deserved.

“Look! This one has little white socks!” Mob held up a dark tabby with lighter paws.

Serizawa was grinning wide, a few tears in his eyes at the momentous and sudden explosion of preciousness. “And this little guy has a black nose! All white and just that spot on his face!”

“Ha ha. I’ve never seen so many before at once.” Mob too was laughing in full, laying back to allow the kitties to use him as a make shift cat tree.

“I used to see ginger kittens all the time when I walked back from school.” Serizawa was now holding one in each hand as they loudly purred, his fingers feeling the happy vibrations. “My mom and I had a joke that every cat in the area was ginger and came from some big orange cat Kami.”

“I hope they weren’t abandoned.” Mob’s voice trailed off while he gave quality chin scritches to the two now lying on his chest.

Serizawa frowned for a bit at the thought. Didn’t matter now because they were here. He watched one crouch, wiggling its butt before leaping to pounce on his shoe. Three others had decided his lap was now their bed. For a moment it was all mews and smiles until one of the ginger decided to climb up Serizawa’s back. The little claws pricked through his suit and he froze while the kitten managed to get all the way up to his shoulder. There it stood triumphant, rubbing against his cheek with its whole body with a rumbling purr.

“Uh- um.” Serizawa’s hands were shaking even worse now. “Shigeo?”

The levels of adorable had been too much and now some of the kittens were hovering a few inches off the ground along with some small stones and bits of grass.

“I’m s-sorry! I’m trying to keep control.” He was tense now, eyes closing.

Mob sat up. “It’s alright! They seem to like it. Look!”

Taking a deep breath, Serizawa opened one eye, then the other. A black and white kitten floated in front of his face pawing at its own tail, purring as it slowly rotated in the air. The ones in his lap were still snuggled together but had their heads up as they gained their bit of altitude. Two more in the air seemed to be trying to play fight but hovered a few inches too far away resulting in excited rolling and pawing.

“Th-they do!” Serizawa raised a hand and gently cupped one of the battling kittens. It plopped into his palm, belly up and paws curled. “They are so cute, how could someone just dump them in a park?”

“I don’t know.” Mob aided the other floating cats to the ground. The mews he got in return made him smile from ear to ear. “We can help them though.”

It was Serizawa’s turn to lie back, letting out a sigh as he marinated in fur and purrs. “How though?”

“They are probably hungry.”

“Oh! Wait.” Turning to his side, Serizawa pulled his brief case closer and started to rummage through the contents. “I have some jerky in here somewhere. Aha!”

He sat back up with a bag of shredded and dried beef. From just the smell, every kitten congregated around him, reaching up to swipe at the food. Serizawa laughed, his free hand trying to garner enough space in the grass for him to place the jerky. Eventually he gave up against the jumping, crowding kittens and simply dumped the entire bag amongst them.

The meowing stopped, replaced now with chewing amid ever continuing purrs with a few growls in between as they all defended their treats. One stepped back, shaking its self. Another had dropped its piece and was pawing at it.

“Oh.” Mob picked up one of the discarded bits. “I think this stuff is too hard for them.”

“Oh no. I don’t really have anything things else.” Serizawa went through his pack again. “What do they need? Milk?”

Picking one up, Mob stared at the little thing in his hands. Ginger with white front paws, it mewed before gnawing at his thumb.

“They are small but probably off milk, or at least close.” The others had given up eating and resumed their needy meows. “We need something soft, like canned tuna.”

Serizawa frowned down. Just then Reigen came across the corner with a bag of fries in one hand, his cell phone in another, and several of the fried potatoes sticking out from his lips while he chewed on a generous mouthful.

“What the-” His shock came out muffled by the food. Swallowing, he held both the fries and cell phone out at arm’s length. “I left you alone for 30 minutes!”

“S-sorry, Reigen-san.” Serizawa turned his head to avoid the angry stare of his boss. “We got a bit side tracked.”

“Shishou!” Mob looked up. “Can you buy some cat food? The soft kind in the cans!”

“I- wait-what?” Reigen wandered over still trying to piece together what exactly he was looking at.

The cat that had climbed onto Serizawa’s shoulder had now made it to the top of his head, making the man laugh. “Yes please! And maybe a box so we can carry them!”

The boss of Spirits and Such stood there over his two employees sitting in the grass covered in mewing kittens. One of the rascals ran over and butted up against his pants leg, looking up and letting out a tiny, happy trill.

“I’m not getting cat food!” He took a few steps back. The kitten pursued. “And we can’t keep them! What are we going to do, take them to the office?”

Mob gazed up with wide eyes and a kitten against his cheek as he held up one of the dark tabbies. “Shishou please? It’s just for the day until we can take them to the shelter.”

“They are all alone with no mother.” Serizawa joined in, giving his best sad face. “We have to do something.”

“But I- you see- we can’t just- and the office and- UGH!” Reigen ended his broken ramble and crossed his arms in front of him. “We have a client to meet up with in like 20 minutes!” Pointing at one kitten, he drew an arm down before bringing it up into an open palm, fingers tensing. “I told you to take a break not adopt half the strays in the area.”

The normally gruff and serious Serizawa spoke in a soft, begging pitch as he met his boss’s eyes. “Please, Reigen-san.”

A bit of red flushed over Reigen’s cheeks and he hid his face in a hand. Can’t say no to that.

“FINE!” He huffed for a moment before crossing his arms again and glaring daggers at what ever happened to be at is right side. It was a tree. “I’ll- call the client and say something came up.” Another grumble. “Then we can take them back to the office.” He looked back at his employees. “Will that make you happy?”

Serizawa and Mob both beamed while covered in kittens. “Yes! Thank you!”

A few moments later, Reigen returned with a cardboard box he had scavenged in the nearby alley, his mind racing. Serizawa took it and gave a bow, smiling at his boss.

“You’re a good man, Reigen-san.”

Reigen turned away, Serizawa failing to notice the blush and distant look in his eyes. After a careful kneel, he began to pick up the kittens one by one with Mob and place them into the box. The task proved difficult as the little guys kept jumping out again, but eventually they got every last one of them secured.

Mob held the box leaving Serizawa to get the rest of their things. Over his shoulder he could hear Reigen muttering on the phone amongst the kitten mews.

“Yes I’m sorry. There’s been a bit of an emergency with- with the client before you. Can we reschedule? Y-yes. I can give a discount. Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Serizawa watched his boss snap his phone closed and drop his shoulders, ending with a long sigh. For a moment their eyes met and Serizawa gave a sheepish grin back. Reigen straightened his back and managed a smile of his own. Just then a kitten ran between his legs and Reigen panicked, chasing after the little thing before tripping into a bench.

“Reigen-san!” Serizawa rushed over. “Are you alright?”

A mumble before Reigen picked himself up off the back of the bench, wiping dirt off his suit jacket. “Yeah. But I think I lost the kitten.”

“No worries, Shishou.”

Mob stood with the box and the now hovering escapee floated over to them. Reigen held out his hands and took the kitten. It mewed, going for the pink tie but flopping over and deciding to remain half curled up on its back.

“Maybe one of them can be the office mascot.” Serizawa suggested as Reigen pet at the tiny ginger kitty.

“That’s what Dimple is for.”

A chuckle from both of them. And yet Reigen’s gaze was fixed on the cat as it purred and made biscuits against his fingers. For a moment he remained lost in thought, relaxed and joyful, but soon snapped back to his expected levels of strained charisma.

“Alright! Let’s head back to the office and see if we can contact the local shelter.”

Serizawa let out a sigh. Maybe one day his boss would learn what taking a break is all about. Until then, perhaps a box of eight adorable, mewing kittens would help.

#mp100 #serizawa katsuya #reigen arataka #mob kageyama #this is kinda my weakest one im sorry #i've been like hilariously depressed this entire week so it's hard to get these to good quality #kitties #my writing #fan fic #mp100 fan fic #cant say no to begging seri ok #reigen branded salt lamps they come signed by him and probably a pic of him too #gotta take that swipe at dimple #he's prob back at the office like FOR SOME REASON IM MAD AT REIGEN #serizawaweek2024

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ineffablemossy · 7 months

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Flufftober / Good Omentober Day 1

Mashing up the fluff and GO prompts because I love my fluffy celestial beings <3 Posting on AO3 tomorrow as its late now, I'm as tired as a hard-working angel

Prompt: I got you / Pre-Fall

Words: 2419

Rating: Teen I guess (SFW, kissing only)

---

They padded down the long, bright corridor, the white flagstones cool under their feet. Leaning round pillars and corners as they moved lightly on the balls of their feet. A shock of ruby curls bounced around their ears as they half-ran to and fro.

"Stars, where are you? Uhh, I hate these offices, go on forever and ever just boring white, white, pale white, off-white, bone white, bright white..." Raphael stopped and sighed, planting their hands on their hips. "Aziraphale! Where are yo.. oh!" They called out and turned, spotting an opening in the sheer white wall. Through the doorway, they could see a desk piled high with parchments and scrolls.

Grinning, they approached the entrance slowly, dragging their fingers on the smooth surface of the wall as they peered in. On the desk amid the stacks of documents, soft white curls peeked out. Something fluttered in their chest. Oh, now that's a nice white, white as the brightest star. They let out a soft hum, the heart beating in their corporation suddenly feeling twice as big as a moment before.

Raphael took only three steps to reach the desk, their long gainly legs almost dancing across the room. They knelt down to better see the chaos around the Principality and chuckled softly. Some of the papers had toppled, falling over the angel's head which lay unmoving, cheek pressed against the translucent surface. Aziraphale was half sprawled across the desk, one hand still holding onto a quill. His back rose and fell slowly. Raphael rested their forearms on the edge of the desk and leaned towards the peaceful, sleeping face of their beloved. Aziraphale let out the softest of snores, and Raphael scrunched their face in delight.

"Look at you," they whispered, "you're gorgeous."

They raised a hand to move the fallen bits of parchment from Aziraphale's sleeping form, then gently plucked the quill from his hand. The angel snorted a half-snored intake of breath then let out a long, low moan of displeasure, brow furrowing. Raphael moved to smooth the brilliant curls, making soothing noises.

"Shhh sshhh, it's alright Angel. You fell asleep, you must be exhausted," said Raphael. They didn't habitually sleep, but sometimes these new corporations they'd been issued with seemed to get very weary. It would all settle down in time, they'd been reassured, just a matter of getting used to it.

Aziraphale huffed and moved his forearms under his head, glaring up at Raphael through tousled hair and dust motes from the papers. He closed his eyes and pressed his head into the redhead's palm. And huffed again.

"What have you been up to? I expected to see you ages ago. I guess you've been buried in plans for Earth, hmmm?" Raphael grinned and wiggled their eyebrows. Aziraphale moaned in response, but they could see his ears move with a smile hidden behind those robust arms.

Raphael bounced up and circled the desk, placing a delicate hand on the other angel's back, between the shoulder blades. Aziraphale felt warm, even through their robes. He always felt warm, it made it feel so cosy being next to him. He was like a tiny Sun all for them, and when he smiled at them, well. It made them feel all shimmering and liquid inside, like a brand-new nebula shifting and twinkling in a perfect sky.

"So...much...paperwork..." Aziraphale's voice was muffled by his sleeves. Raphael slipped their hands down and around his waist, giving a gentle tug.

"Come on Angel. You need some rest. The paperwork will be here later," their voice dropped to a mumble, "s'not like anyone else is going to do it for you."

Aziraphale either didn't hear it pretended not to, and pushed himself up off his arms. He turned towards the tall angel, eyes hooded and dark with sleepiness. Raphael giggled and reached up to peel a scrap of parchment that had stuck to his cheek. Aziraphael cleared his throat and half smiled up at them.

"My dear, what are you doing here? Has so much time passed already? I am sorry if I missed our rendez..." he yawned widely, "vous."

"Oh don't be a silly angel, I knew you'd be here," they gestured widely towards the long corridor, "somewhere. Come on now, let's get you up." They tugged at Aziraphale's waist again with one arm, holding out the other to catch his hand.

Aziraphale pushed back in the chair and rose, enveloping the angel's slender hand in his own. Raphael saw him blush and turn towards the doorway.

"Oh no. I don't. I don't want anyone to see me taking my leave on work time though. That's why I stayed here, I was only going to rest my eyes for a moment. I should stay, I really MUST stay." He turned back towards the desk. Raphael tugged on his hand and bit their lip to stop the exasperated sigh that rose unbidden.

"Oh no you don't! You are coming with me!" They said firmly. Aziraphale spun back around, eyebrows knitting together and lips pursed in annoyance.

"Raphael it's not so simple! You know the rules, we..." he stopped as Raphael placed a long finger against his lips.

"Sssh, now, tired angel. Stroppy angel," they winked at him mischievously and rubbed their thumb across his knuckles, feeling the wide strong bones found there. "I know a place. No one ever goes there, I promise." Aziraphale sighed heavily them met their gaze, all the fight and heat drained out of his face.

"Promise? You're sure?"

"Absolutely! Just a couple of..." they looked up and waved their spare hand around, "Ngh I don't know. Units of time, we've not really nailed down a name for them yet. But you know, a couple of units let's say. Then you'll feel all better, and no one will have noticed a thing."

They looked down at him, tilting their head forward with wide eyes, and blinked a few times in succession. "Pleeease..."

Aziraphale blushed again as he met their gaze. "Alright then, but just for a little while!" He rushed out the words.

Raphael wiggled on the spot, feeling very pleased with themself. Squeezing that big, strong hand they led Aziraphale to the doorway before popping their head around the edge and looking both ways. The corridor was empty in both directions.

"All clear, come on!" Raphael said. They rushed through the doorway, hopping along the shiny floor as though it prickled their soles. They turned back the way they'd come in, heading in the vague direction of the stairwell.

They turned around, feeling Aziraphale's hand heavy in theirs. The angel was yawning again and they couldn't help tilting their head and letting out a soft sound of adoration. When they turned back, the door to the stairwell was suddenly in front of them.

"I'll never understand your offices, Angel." They pushed through the door and the two angels found themselves in a white and grey space, with stairs spiralling up and down. Raphael looked over the railing and shivered when they saw the gloomy blackness swallowing up the stairs far below.

"Right, we're going up. Come on Angel! It's not too far."

"I do hope not or I might just fall asleep right here on the stairs," Aziraphale said tritely. They started up the stairs together, side by side.

"Mm, don't think that'd be too comfy. What I've got in mind is much better." They flashed a smile at their companion.

After a few turns around and up the spiral, the stairway narrowed. They ascended one more flight and found themselves in front of a nondescript grey door.

"This is it," Raphael fizzed inside. They loved showing their Angel new things, little secrets they found here and there across the Universe. It made them feel something divine when they shared these moments. They raised their hand to the door and pushed, leading Aziraphale in by the hand.

The door closed behind them, and it was dark. A warm, velvet dark that lapped over them.

"Let there be light," Raphael whispered and made the tiniest motion. It was important that no one find this place, so they used the tiniest miracle they could. A small orb appeared in their hands glowing just enough to show them the floor and close surroundings.

They started forward again with Aziraphale trailing very close behind. They could feel his breath on the back of the neck. It sent tingles down their spine.

The shape of a doorway materialised out of the shadows and they stepped through. There was more light here, and Raphael snuffed out the light. They drew Aziraphale forward and snugged their arm around his waist. He was looking at them quizzically.

"Angel, look up," said Raphael and they both craned their heads back. Aziraphale gasped then.

Above them, the ceiling was not high. But it was entirely made of glass. Beyond the transparent canopy, the Vaults of Heaven were laid out in all their glory. The dark sky shifted through shades of dark blue, to purple, to almost black, with ribbons of lilac and pink and green meandering across the firmament. Golden stars twinkled, scattered across the vista like thousands of tiny lamps straining to shine the brightest. It was a singular, ethereal beauty. Despite all the work Raphael had done creating star systems, nebulas, and novas; there was still something a bit special about that view. The light coppery hairs on their arms prickled and stood up at the sight.

"Whaddya think?" They whispered.

"It's.. it's.. just divine! Beautiful!" Aziraphale paused for a moment. "Gorgeous, even!" Raphael grinned from ear to ear.

"I hoped you'd like it."

"Oh, I do. Very, very much." Aziraphale turned towards them, a contented smile creasing his eyes. "Thank you so much dearest! It really is wonderful!" Raphael felt their cheeks heating up.

"Aha, and that's not all!" They moved further into the room, easier to see as their eyes adapted to the low light. The room didn't appear well kept, strewn with a variety of oddly shaped dark shadows. Some of them looked like boxes.

In The middle was a particularly large shadow. Raphael smiled and reached down, clutching a large piece of fabric and pulling dramatically. They spun round and let the fabric flutter down to the ground, revealing a dusty, but soft-looking chaise longue with plush navy blue velvet.

"Now, come over here Angel," they stretched out their hand. Aziraphale took a few steps and then lurched forward, arms flailing. Raphael rushed towards him a step and felt the full force of the angel slam into them. They toppled backwards, tripping in turn against the end of the bed.

"Ouf!" Aziraphale said as he fell on top of the fiery-haired angel, who had instinctively wrapped their arms around his shoulders. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry. I tripped on something." He tried to raise himself up but Raphael tightened their arms around him, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"S'alright Angel, I've got you," Raphael whispered into Aziraphale's ear and nuzzled into his soft curls. The smell of him was intoxicating. They felt him relax into their embrace, their breath rising and falling together.

"We should probably move a little dearest," Aziraphale's voice was muffled again, this time by Raphael's robes. "Shame to not make full use of this lovely spot you've found."

"Mm, I suppose you're right. I was just, you know, enjoying this for a moment." Raphael unwrapped their arms to release the angel, then scooted up onto the recliner which was practically a bed. Conveniently sized for two angels in fact. They leaned back and beckoned to Aziraphale with wide open arms.

Aziraphale climbed onto the bed on both knees and almost crawled upwards towards them. The sight made them feel giddy and glad to be lying down already. The Principality leaned over, planting a thick arm roped with muscle on each side of their fire-crowned head. They licked their lips, taking in as much detail as they could in the dim half-light. Looking up, they found Aziraphale's gaze. His eyes sparkled, shifting tones of grey and dark blue. Feeling his tender smile beaming down at them Raphael thought they might just discorporate there and then.

Aziraphale shifted and Raphael felt his hand against their cheek. Their breath hitched in response to the touch.

"You never cease to amaze me, my dearest darling Raphael." The angel's voice was warm. "My existence wouldn't be nearly as interesting without you."

Then they felt their lover's breath hot on their face, and they reached up to swing their arms around his back.

"Come here Angel."

Aziraphale dipped and they felt his soft, plush lips meet theirs. Sparks shivered through their limbs as they kissed, contented sounds escaping them. They closed their eyes, losing themself in the moment, in the warmth and love rolling off of their Angel's mouth and tongue. When Aziraphale broke their touch Raphael sighed into the space between them. They brushed noses affectionately, and they couldn't help but grin lazily when their beloved shifted to place a soft kiss on their forehead.

"I do love doing that you know," Aziraphale murmured into their hair.

"Mm, me too. S'great" Raphael replied. "But you should be getting some rest now. Come and lie down here." They patted the velvet beside them. "We can kiss some more next time you're free and not falling asleep under paperwork!" They teased.

Aziraphale shifted to lie down and they both looked up at the star-lined vista above them. Raphael wriggled closer, nestling into Aziraphale's shoulder and breathing deeply, trying to inhale the very scent of him, to capture the olfactive memory of the moment.

They shook out their wings then and draped one across the both of them. Aziraphale slid an arm under their neck and reached down to stroke the downy feathers st their shoulder blades.

"That you my dear, that's very nice. Very, what was it that word you found again? Cosy?"

"Mm, yeah, cosy," they sighed, tingles running through them as the angel's fingers stroked their feathers.

They both looked up in silence at the celestial skyscape, their breathing gradually slowing.

"I think I might quite like to come here again, with you darling." Aziraphale's voice was thick and heavy with sleep.

"Me too Angel, me too."

Raphael heard gentle snores and smiled happily. Then, tucked up warm and cosy and loved, they closed their eyes and slept.

---

tagging @disaster-dog thank you for the pre-Fall prompt!

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jils-things · 3 months

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❨♡❩ valentine's week ; platonic day

okay my biggest regret for this letter is that I don't actually have enough platonics to fit in here, like really major platonics because they all went to the familials AHDHFHSJDJJS but hey as long as i have someone, i'm more than willing to talk about them 💚

im gonna throw a little curveball here and start off with hero! before i got into poke.mon wholely, i was in a very deep o.mori mood. i loved the game so much, i played it blind and found myself to really adore hero. words cannot describe how happy i feel when i see him. he's a nice mix of comfort character and platonic f/o to me. i think he's the first guy that made me really feel so attached to him and talk about him like he was my best friend - i was literally branded as the hero friend in my circle just because of it 😭 as i played the game, i couldn't help but feel so connected to him. he's so mature, he's a great big brother, hilariously the charming type and he's not big headed. he's in fact a little self insecure... and part of me really just understood him well there. my sympathy and care for him grew all the more when i see him in the current timeline, especially what he had to go through for mari and kel. i remember being so happy when i saw overworld hero debut for the first time, heck i'm pretty sure i almost teared up in joy. hero is most definitely the highlight of my o.mori journey, his character just so happened to connect to so many favorite little topics i liked (him with sharks? cooking? love interest in mari?) so many things to love about him! its safe to say that hero is truly the first platonic i ever cared so deeply for. i'm a little sad that I don't have that spark at the moment to go back to him due to fandom jumps but just know that i'm absolutely down to talk about hero anytime

anndddd of course, as many of you all expected... it's blue! if not appleshipping, then it's the silly caramelapple goofies! blue was not gonna escape my grip if i were to romantic f/o red. like come on, this guy is the second closest to being associated with red. but that aside - i really like sun and moon blue more! i'm not exactly too fond of his younger alternative but for the character development i 100 respect him. sun and moon blue however is just the perfect mixture of - fun, mature and cocky. he's a bit of a flashy guy but at least he knows how to hold his ground. blue is just cool. he's definitely a lot more sociable than red but that's what makes the dynamic even funner! with jaide inserted in the group he becomes the token responsible adult and i think its funny 💚

since my platonic list is too small im gonna cheat a little and bring my friends' poke.spe ocs who i included in my platonic fo list AKFLFLFKDLLD hi bee hi nero uhh im cheating shhh sorry 😔

ok so like!! this maroon berry and clear salt!! (jaide stone is on the far left) if im being honest... reading poke.spe is not the same to me anymore because i always have the pok.espe parents in my brain no matter what. it can be over the littlest, trivial things yet my brain will go "ooh, what would maroon/clear do in here" like genuinely a lot of our fanon ideas are just real to me at this point. red has a brother?? fuck yeah dude. crystal's mom is meh but her divorced husband is better?? yeah. yeah REAL. the best part about having clear and maroon close to me is that i actually tend to imagine what would jaide be doing with them together, i mean clear has a little connection to d.evon corp and that's already a great bridge to ponder over how jaide and clear interacts. we may have not written anything TOO canon yet but the ideas are there. and then there's maroon with red meeting gold. there's a perfect bridge to make jaide at least interact with them. i know we're just floating on the bridge of ideas and we didn't actually canonize as much with the parents together but it's just so fun to think about, y'know?? maroon and clear are just written so amazingly well to me and well we're here to deliver therapy to our kids 🤧🤧 i promise you there's a lot of times where i wanted to cook smth that unites all 3 of them together but I just didn't have the time 😭 btw maroon is definitely the person i'd run to for comfort because she wouldn't judge no matter what and would find a way to comfort and of course give a nice nice delicious meal. clear is probably a little more difficult to befriend but if i imagine if you at least get past his cold ice exterior he's a very sweet man (and maroon can vouch for that ☝️☝️)

sorry this ended up becoming a little message to my actual friends but ahakskdjdjd i tried 😭

oh oh and big big BIG shoutout to my fucked up cartridge family created by my circle of pokep.asta obsessed mutuals AKKDKFJDJD 💚💚💚 from fuckin mike and steven stou.ghton, to kalei to jasper to grey to megabyte to rainbow to teo to jayden to blake to jett to orion to EVEN RHYS' PAPARAZZI to FUCKIN GREYYYY AAHHH GREYYYYY (UGLY CRIES) I'D PLASTER IMAGES BUT I FEEL BAD SHARING TOO MUCH ART DRAWN BY YALL HERE BUT I LOVE THEM UGHHH

yeah I didn't have much of an elaborate outline going on here unlike my last one its a little more passionate and sporadic AHJSDJJSHS anyways yayyayayay love my frens :]]] thank you platonics :]]]

#~ rambling #~ lovemail #hero.plat #blue.plat #pokespe parents

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

Text

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: ptsd, trauma recovery, kink negotiations, fetishes, fantasies, body modification, objectification, degradation, self-harm, destructive sexual urges, heavy bdsm, bondage, 24/7 D/s, dom Steve, sub Bucky, sadism, masochism, castration fantasy, dark comedy, oddly sweet relationship dynamics (idiots in love)

Summary: Bucky explains his darkest fantasies to Steve

🖤Disclaimer: Nobody gets castrated or otherwise body-modified in this fic, okay? It's Steve and Bucky, kink negotiating and sceneing w/ regards to Bucky's very strange fantasies.

Wait! I haven't read Part 1 Part 2 yet!

Part 3 - That Morning a Few Months Ago, When Steve Found Out About The Castration Issue, cont'd

By the time all the clothespins are on, Bucky is a sweaty, twitching mess. “Shhh,” Steve soothes—somewhat hypocritically, since he’s the one doing all the pinching. “You’re okay.”

“Mmhm,” Bucky nods, trembling. “Oh, god, Steve.”

“Shh, I know. I know.” Steve very much does not know. He’s never had a clothespin anywhere near his junk, and he never intends to.

These ones are teeny tiny and pastel-colored, maybe an inch long - like clothespins made for dolls. If that's true, then they’re certainly being put to off-brand use. Steve would laugh about it, but he’s tested the things on the skin between his thumb and forefinger, and they pinch like a motherfucker.

Bucky’s got them all around his groin and thighs, his taint and foreskin, all the way down the shaft to where the cock ring/stretcher hugs his cock at the base. The sensitive skin of his balls would have them too, only they’re still being pushed and weighed down by the stretcher, too taught to hold onto anything. Everywhere else is covered in the sweet looking clips, each one applied with tender, sadistic care.

Steve would argue that it’s not really sadism, if you’re only enjoying it because you know your masochistic partner is. That’s just love. But he can’t deny that he’s enjoyed watching Bucky react to the intimate hurts, because Bucky’s beautiful in anything he does. Even suffering.

Every time his breath has hitched, every time his muscles have tensed and his body jerked, has been in response to Steve applying a new clip. His skin is flushed purply-pink from it, getting darker by the minute from all the blood flow between his legs; his breath coming in desperate, shaky inhales. His eyes are wet with tears but he’s not crying. Steve would assume that he hates this, if not for the fact that his hips keep jumping into it, if not for the fact that Steve hasn’t stroked him off once since he first slid the ring on and started hurting him, and Bucky’s still hard as a fucking rock.

Steve gets a bunch more oil on his hands and touches him delicately, careful not to knock the clips around too much. He gently, gently holds the head of Bucky’s dick and rubs in wet little circles, pressing against the softness of the glans, digging the tip of his thumb into the slit, gathering the precum that beads out and swirling it around.

Bucky grunts softly when Steve reaches back with his other hand and starts pressing against the base of the plug that's in his ass. At the same time, he keeps working the pad of his finger back and forth under the head of Bucky's dick, and glances up. Bucky’s brow is pinched, his expression one of distress.

Steve keeps pulsing the plug, keeps rubbing that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. “This feel good?” he asks quietly, not surprised when Bucky nods and whines unhappily.

“Steve … p-please …”

“Shhh. It sounds real pretty, honey, but you shouldn’t beg. I’m not gonna listen.”

Bucky shivers and nods. “Yes Sir.”

“Steve,” he corrects.

“S-steve.”

Steve had thought he’d like it, being called ‘Sir’, but he’s come to find that it’s not his favorite. It usually feels so inauthentic, stripping what they do together of its real intimacy and making it into a production instead.

Only when he’s doing the most outlandish, demeaning, perverted things to Bucky, does ‘Sir’ ever feel right. Only then, or else when Bucky’s in subspace (Bucky still denies that’s what it is, but Steve can tell when it happens, and if that helpless, non-verbal, pink-flushed and muzzy-eyed condition isn’t subspace, then Steve doesn’t know what the hell is). Bucky doesn’t seem to be very able to call him anything but ‘Sir’, when he’s in that state.

“Are you gonna?” Bucky asks in a nervous whisper. Steve is still rubbing under the head of his dick with one hand, still pulsing the plug with the other. “Are you going to turn it on?”

He’s not, but he doesn’t need Bucky to know that. “I might,” he says instead. “If I decide I want to.” He tilts his head and surveys Bucky’s expression. “What’s the word you say if you can’t do it?” he prompts, and Bucky breathes out a laboured,

“Yellow.”

“Good.” Steve acts like he never even asked the question, still gliding his finger around that one, sensitive spot. Bucky doesn’t say yellow, and Steve moves on, makes a ring with his thumb and forefinger and jerks him below the head in gentle motions that tug his foreskin and just barely jostle all the clips along his shaft.

Bucky hisses at the combined pain and pleasure. “Hunh-ah! Ohn … sh-hit.”

Steve trails fingers down the center of his sac, smearing oil, tracing the seam from front to back, delighting in how he can see the twitching as Bucky’s balls keep trying and failing to pull up close to his body. “S’it a lot?” he murmurs, glancing up and catching the end of Bucky’s throat bobbing in a heavy swallow.

“Uh huh,” he gasps. “Ss-steve … I’m so—oh … I’m s-sso …”

“Close?” Steve whispers, but Bucky shakes his head and whines a pathetic little ‘no’. Steve tuts. “Oh, Sweetheart, I think you’re lying to me. I think you’re real close.” A stifled whimper cuts off in a gasp as Steve curls his fingers against his balls, over and over, stroking and then patting in an almost-but-not-quite rough enough way to be what Bucky wants. Everything is filthily, luxuriously slick. “I mean, you can cum just from me wailing on your ass a little, and I’ve got fucking clothespins all over your junk, pal. So I think you must be feelin’ real wound up.” He closes his oiled fist over his cock for a single, loose stroke and slaps his balls at the very end of it.

“Ohn ... fuck,” Bucky says, and it’s Steve’s favorite kind of ‘fuck’: the kind that’s whimpered, high and tight and hushed, half in the throat and half behind the nose; the kind that works its way through clenched teeth, turns guttural at the end, and barely makes it past the vocal cords. And Steve is a bad man, because he would pay a lot of money to hear nothing but those sorts of desperate, not-quite-sure-I-want-it, ‘fuck’s from Bucky’s lips for all time.

He takes a break when he sees Bucky’s cock throb dangerously hard. Even with the ring and stretcher on, Steve’s been teasing him for a while now, relentless, slipping and sliding and pinching and clipping the little clips in places that hurt Bucky just the way he craves. And despite his enduring aversion to it, Bucky is still a healthy, grown adult male who’ll come if you touch his cock enough—and Steve has been touching. Not to mention the plug up his ass, currently inflated to press unerringly against his prostate. So Steve pulls his hands away and stands up from the chair.

Bucky’s eyes follow him, heated, a little pinch of unhappiness between his eyebrows the longer he looks. “Steve,” he says softly, asking and complaining all in one. Steve smiles, fond, because Bucky’s always had a talent for packing a lot of shit into the single syllable of his name. Bucky’s complaining because he doesn’t like that Steve’s still fully dressed.

This started out as Steve panicking and needing to get his bizarrely traumatized boyfriend under control as fast as possible. Now that he has, his field of vision almost seems to expand. He becomes more aware of himself, of how his pants have become too tight, how his pulse is ticking in his veins and his cock is trapped and pressing against the zip of his jeans uncomfortably.

He gives himself some relief by flicking the button and pulling down the fly. It feels good, makes him realize how long he’d been ignoring himself in the first place. Steve shivers pleasantly and bites back the groan that wants to come, stepping back into the vee of Bucky’s legs.

He licks his lips and lets his eyes roam greedily over all of Bucky’s tanned skin. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this: body held taught and trembling, skin flushed and just barely starting to sweat as he hangs there, suspended, wanting, helpless to Steve’s whims.

Steve’s dick gives a hearty pulse now that he’s made room for it, and he allows himself one good squeeze from over the the crotch of his jeans before ignoring it again. In his bonds, Bucky looses a tiny sound of frustration, holding back whatever it is he wants to say.

Steve smirks. “Oh yeah?” He rubs his hands all over Bucky’s shoulders and down his pecs, over the ladder of his ribs and the tight lines of his abdomen, fingers following the belt of muscle that slips from his waist down to his shuddering pelvis. He flicks at the clips closest to the cockring’s base and waits for Bucky to hiss in pain before closing his fist around the head of his dick. He squeezes in little, repetitive pulses. Over and over until he gets another overwhelmed cry out of Bucky,

“Ah! Ss-s-steve, please … I-I can’t …”

“Sure you can,” he murmurs. He steps close enough that their chests touch, and then leans in just another inch or two, pushing Bucky’s body with his, forcing him back in the ropes. Bucky’s bonds are all rigged from a single pivot point in the ceiling, so Steve knows that this is tightening the harness, making the ropes dig in cruelly at Bucky’s thighs and ass. He knows he doesn’t have to worry though—Bucky’s always griping that Steve might as well not even bother with shibari if he isn’t going to make it harsh enough to leave real marks.

He smooths his hands over the tops of Bucky’s thighs, groping the muscle, then sliding outwards to his butt. Bucky’s hands are both clenched into fists where they’re tied at his sides and Steve brushes over them with his fingers in a quiet little hello, before veering away to grab at his hips again. He uses that hold to rock them together, slow and dirty. It’s not really the right angle for Steve, but that’s not why he’s doing it. He wants to watch Bucky’s pupils dilate as he responds to Steve’s touch, wants to see him helplessly react to the pressure and the friction.

There’s no way the grinding doesn’t make every single one of the clothespins move and twinge painfully. Bucky keeps making little hurt sounds the more he’s pinched and stimulated, and Steve leans in and kisses him. It’s a sloppy, shallow kiss, stopping and restarting multiple times, Steve doing most of the work while he hums in mock sympathy and licks at Bucky’s slack mouth. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You are close, huh?”

Bucky shivers and nods, more tears leaking from his eyes. And these ones, Steve thinks, these ones might be real tears of distress. Steve’s heart pangs for him, even as his neglected dick throbs in his underwear from watching it all. He’s been hurting Bucky real nice, but he’s also been touching everything he wants to touch, in ways that aren’t always easy for Bucky. Feeling so much has Bucky’s breath hitching in barely-there sobs each time Steve pushes on the plug or dares to glance fingertips against the head of his cock.

“Buck,” he coos, looking down between their bodies. “It’s alright to feel good, baby. You know that. You’re allowed. It’s not a bad thing to let it feel good.” He glides his fingers into the crease of Bucky’s hip, down between his legs and back up to the base of his cock, over his pubic bone where, as far as Steve knows, hair hasn’t grown since 1945. Steve likes to watch the shine and trickle of the oil against all that bare, ruddy skin. He likes watching everything darken, likes the access it gives him. “I want to put my mouth on you so bad,” he confesses, not surprised when Bucky shudders against him.

“Please,” he breathes, begging for Steve to not do that. “Steve …”

Steve’s balls throb and his dick pulses in a strange but familiar counterpoint to the ache that always lodges in his chest whenever he hears Bucky fearing something that should only feel good. “Hang on, pal,” he soothes, stepping away to the rolling cart so that he can get the crop he’d set aside. “You’ve still got a lot of explaining left to do.” He curls his fingers over the crop’s handle. It’s a very small implement, less than two feet long, with a short and sturdy fold of leather at the tip—made just for the sort of precise, delicate swatting that Steve has in mind. Bucky’s throat clicks audibly in another nervous swallow as he watches Steve take hold of it. Steve uses the tip to touch Bucky’s chest. He pats the leather flange against his pec, nudging at the black metal barbell that beads out to either side of his nipple. “Are you ready to get talking?”

Bucky nods shakily. “What do you wanna know?”

“Well …” Steve keeps his tone conversational as he pats around at Bucky’s belly and groin with light, testing ‘thwaks’. He sits in the chair. “Knowing you, you’ve probably already researched it to hell and back, am I right?”

“... Yeah,” Bucky says distractedly, and Steve knows without looking up that he’s staring at the crop and where Steve might be taking it next. “I’m sorry.”

Steve swats him on the inner thigh. “I don’t want you to be sorry,” he corrects. “I want you to explain.”

“Steve …”

“Explain it to me,” he repeats, stern, fluttering the tip of the crop along the taut line of a hip flexor. “What is it about it that appeals, hm?” He lets his eyes drag back up to Bucky’s face. “Why do you like the idea of … of castrating yourself?” He hesitates for only a fraction of a second, but he knows that Bucky doesn’t miss it, doesn’t miss how it is hard for him to even say the word. Steve swallows and steels himself. He already has a pretty good guess of what Bucky’s answer is going to be, but he needs to hear it from him. He lets the crop trail lazily up and down Bucky’s inner thigh, stopping to nudge one of the clips along his taint. “Come on, pal. Explain it to me. I’m not gonna knock these off until you do.”

Bucky’s face is red, embarrassed, and it takes him a moment before he can manage to open his mouth and admit, “I like … that it makes you soft. I probably wouldn’t be able to get hard anymore. My body wouldn’t react the same.”

Steve frowns and touches the bouncing line of Bucky’s erection with the crop. Just the visual threat of it there is enough to make Bucky jerk with excitement. Steve tuts at the reaction, but it was an honest answer, so he swats him lightly on the head of his cock in reward.

Bucky makes a horrible, stifled sound; like he’s taken a gut punch but is trying to keep quiet. “So it’s about being impotent, then,” Steve says, heart sinking and trying not to show it. He’s always tried hard to make sure that what they do together is something good, something Bucky either wants, is ambivalent about, or can learn to want. Steve hates the idea that maybe he’s been pushing sex on Bucky when he doesn’t want it. He’s got his mouth open to say something to that effect, but Bucky’s already answering him,

“No. Not impotent. Just …” he flounders. “Just different.” Steve raises an eyebrow and makes a hand gesture to indicate that Bucky should keep on talking, because Steve sure as shit doesn’t understand yet. Bucky sighs. “I like the idea of just being there for you. Of my body not reacting. Not being able to use my cock to feel good.” His face colors even worse and he averts his eyes. “I’d never have to see it get hard.”

Steve presses his lips tightly together, hurt by that. He knows that it makes Bucky nervous to see his own body react that way. Steve’s never been brave enough to ask for the specifics of why. The generalities are plenty, and Steve’s not so stupid that he can’t infer. Bucky was tortured, horrifically, raped and traumatized until all the wires in his brain got crossed. They still are, these days, but Steve’s been trying his damned hardest to untangle at least a few of them. “So you never want to cum?” he asks in disbelief. “Ever again?” The thought makes him want to cry.

“No! I do. I mean, I still could,” Bucky says. “When you want me to. When I need it. But it would never happen by accident, only if you wanted it to, if you put real work into it. Otherwise, I—” He chokes on a breathy ‘ah!’ as Steve swats the head of his cock again, “I–I wouldn’t have to—ooh!—w-worry about it.”

“Mm. ‘Worry’,” Steve repeats unhappily. “What about the humiliation aspect of it? The emasculation?” Steve’s pretty sure that’s what it’s about for most of the freaky fetish internet people (but leave it to Bucky to find the fringe group of a fringe group). “Is that part of the fantasy?”

Bucky pauses guiltily. “I mean … yeah. It’d be a bonus, I guess.”

Steve scoffs. He really feels like he needs a lot more time to try and wrap his mind around the way that Bucky sees this, because God knows it’s not how Steve sees it. Just the concept of being voluntary neutered has him wanting to shield his own nuts with both hands. Still, he tries to do what he always does in situations like this. He flexes his mental strength and imagines how Bucky must feel about this new, fucked up thing he’s expressing. “So ... you like that your body would be under control?” he eventually guesses, taking his cues from Bucky’s expressions. He taps the shaft of the crop against where the plug is lodged in Bucky’s ass, watching him wince minutely. “Your body’s reactions, your sex drive?”

Bucky nods and croaks out, “Yeah. Yeah, under your control. Exactly. This would just control it a little bit. I like feeling under control.”

"I know you do.” Steve is in no way actually considering this, but he plays along, mapping out the shape of it in his mind. He winds up drawing an unpleasant comparison between Bucky getting his balls chopped off to control his sexuality, and female circumcision. “... Men who’ve had this done,” he asks slowly, “they don’t get erections?”

“Well … No. Not easily. Not strong ones.”

“Do they ejaculate?”

“Not as much.”

“Huh.” He trails the crop down Bucky’s cock, nudging at the clips along the way. He leans forward in the chair and watches intently as he rubs the leather flange over Bucky’s balls. They’re taut and shiny and dark, swollen from being bound so cruelly. He taps them once and Bucky flinches and gasps. “But they can still have orgasms?” Steve checks.

“Y-yeah. Dry. They can cum dry.”

Steve looks up. “Personally, I really like these,” he says, tapping. “I like seeing ‘em, touching ‘em, putting ‘em in my mouth. I don’t know what I’d do, if you—” he cuts off, swallowing down a slight wave of nausea at the image of Bucky, bleeding out on some guy’s basement’s tennis table. “You can’t get your balls chopped off, Buck,” he says, forcing levity into his voice. “It’d be such a waste.” He lifts Bucky’s balls up on the shaft of the crop and hefts their weight a few times. “Look at these gorgeous nuts, huh? Just think: what would I get to torture so nicely if you didn’t have these beauties?”

Bucky’s face is still flushed deep in embarrassment, but he isn’t looking away from Steve anymore. He starts chewing his lip, and Steve gives him a real swat behind his balls, getting a bare spot between the clips on his taint. Bucky moans and jerks, making the harness sway midair. Steve steadies him.

“You’d really take that away from me? Hm? Change your body like that?”

Bucky shakes his head, fast and desperate, and the obvious honesty in it is a huge relief. “No,” he gasps. “No not if you didn’t let me. I wouldn’t, I swear!”

“But if I let you?” Steve asks, waspish, striking out to knock one of the clips off from behind his balls. Bucky yelps. “You’d gladly do it then?”

“Oghn.” Bucky nods, recovering from the pain—cock dripping from the pain. He looks pleadingly down at him. “It’d be so simple,” he whispers. “I’d be so simple and compact and so … so useful for you.”

Steve averts his gaze back down so that Bucky can’t see the revulsion pass through his eyes. He doesn’t even know what the hell Bucky means by all that. It’s like they’re speaking in two different dialects of the same language: close, but no cigar. “You really think I want to have sex with someone who doesn’t enjoy it?” he asks, trying not to let his voice waver with the sorrow he feels.

“No,” Bucky insists. “I would enjoy it.”

“That makes no sense, you jerk. You wouldn’t have a sex drive!” Steve says angrily. “Your body wouldn’t have testosterone, and you wouldn’t have a sex drive.”

“I’d still be able to feel pleasure,” Bucky insists. “When you touch me. And I’d still want to be intimate with you. You could still make me cum. All of that, but it would just all be you.” He says it like he’s pleading with Steve to understand. “Don’t you see? I wouldn’t need it, but I could enjoy it when I got it anyway. Please! I just want to work right. I want to be under control.”

Steve nods, upset and trying to calm himself down. He doesn’t think they’re going to come to any kind of an understanding on this one. “Sometimes the wires won’t make sense,” he can just hear his therapist saying. “And they don’t need to. You can still be a supportive partner. Do your best to understand, tell him when you can’t, and don’t invalidate what he feels.”

“I’d be sexual with you,” Bucky’s still arguing, frustrating Steve by plowing ahead and just spitting more words out at him. “I wouldn’t be doing you a favor. I’d want it. You’ll make me want it. But when I’m by myself, it’d just be gone. Like turning off a vibrator when you’re not using it.”

“Christ.”

“… Is that really so bad to want?” he asks, looking hurt.

It’s messed up on seven fucking-levels to want, Steve thinks but doesn’t say. He knows he should try harder to talk this out—Bucky’s clearly not trying to hurt himself just for the sake of hurting himself—but right now Steve is still terrified of what might happen. He feels tired, brain overly taxed from trying to navigate the traumatized, fucked-up nooks and crannies of the brain of the man he loves and just wants to make love to, goddamnit. He sniffs and looks back up at him, features stern. “Well sorry to break it to you, pal, but no matter why you think you want to do it, I’m not letting you chop your balls off. You’re just gonna have to catalogue that one in the spank bank.”

“Steeve,”

Like a brittled rubber band, Steve’s tolerance snaps. In a flash, he starts hitting the clothespins with the crop, knocking them off suddenly and precisely, one by one by one. He’s aware of Bucky gasping and yelping and jerking from the sudden pain, but he doesn’t stop until he’s knocked every single one of the clips off. “I’m gonna cum,” Bucky gasps breathlessly, right on the edge. “I’m–I’m—”

Steve leans forward in the chair, hauls Bucky’s crotch to his face, and sucks his tortured balls straight into his mouth. Bucky keens and jerks, but Steve doesn’t let go. He brings a hand up to knuckle brutally into Bucky’s taint, and then—meanly but so goddamn carefully—he closes his teeth, biting down on Bucky’s balls hard enough to make it really hurt.

Bucky’s sharp cries don’t disappear so much as they go subvocal, cut off into a choking, strangled sound that tells Steve as good as any scream could, that he’s climaxing. The flesh in Steve’s mouth throbs and twitches, Bucky’s balls trying desperately to pull up tight to his body as he comes. Steve thinks that the pain of having them forced away like this must be dragging the orgasm out, making it more intense; and despite how fucked up it all is, Steve feels glad that he can give that to him.

He stops biting after a second or two and just sucks on them instead, feeling the shape against his tongue and the twitches of Bucky’s hips against his face. Distantly, he’s aware of the spurts of cum that’ve landed against his neck and shoulder, probably getting on his tee shirt in the back, too. He waits until Bucky is shivering with oversensitivity before he pulls his mouth away. Bucky’s erection has flagged, though his cock remains thickened because of the ring. Steve works it off him as gently as he can, grinding his teeth every time he hears Bucky hiss and whimper from the overstimulation. “Sorry, sorry.”

“I’m okay.”

He stands up again and pulls Bucky into a tight hug, not wanting him to see the wetness that’s in his eyes. Bucky’s arms both flex where they’re bound at his sides, telling Steve that if he had them free, he’d be hugging back right now. “I love you,” Steve whispers, thinking that he’s got to think of a way to satisfy this urge of Bucky’s. Preferably before the idiot goes and gets his nuts chopped off.

Steve’s therapist is no fucking help whatsoever. She doesn’t immediately freak out when he tells her about Bucky joining nutjob (literally) chat groups online. Steve doesn’t know why he’s surprised. She never says what he wants her to. He’s her client, goddammit. He’s the one paying her. She’s never even met Bucky and yet she still somehow always seems to take his side. So they talk a lot about Bucky and what sorts of things might help him to feel satisfied without amateur surgery in Mexico/Some Guy’s Basement.

“No. How can that possibly help? It can’t!”

“We don’t get to tell people how they should feel, or how they should heal, Steve. Reenacting in a safe space, with a safe person, that can be very cathartic.”

Steve manically researches cock cages and chastity play on the internet for a day and a half. He sits Bucky down for a Serious Conversation on possibilities other than literal castration.

So, ‘consensual non-consent’ is a thing— “CNC,” because everything has to have a goddamn acronym these days.

Steve’s pretty sure that what they’ve been doing can’t technically count as that, because Bucky never non-consents to begin with—he’s a 24/7 whore for being forced, used, and objectified. But yeah, it’s basically rape play. Because of course it would be.

Turns out, Steve’s sexual orientation really is double dog dare, because Bucky likes CNC a lot, and so they get into that, because Steve would never deny him anything that facilitates intimacy between them. Turns out that when he’s held and forced and used and put and made to, many of Bucky’s sexual problems don’t rear their ugly heads. And Steve can get used to an-ny-thing, if it’s something that helps Bucky accept pleasure.

So they make some changes in their daily life and habits. Because at this point, what’s a few more? Bucky starts wearing cock cages all the time, and only Steve is allowed to remove them, and sometimes Bucky just wants to bend over and take it and be a good object for Steve, which is what they do.

They order a bunch of stuff on Amazon. Silicon, plastic, metal, tiny, medium, solid, slotted, big, locking—all sorts get ordered and show up at their door not twenty four hours later, and Bucky tries them all and picks his favorites. Steve is tasked with disposing of the reject pile. As a child of the depression, it hurts a piece of his soul to throw anything away unused, even a handful of cock cages. Bucky tells him to stop being an idiot and chuck ‘em. Steve does.

Bucky wants one absolutely locked on himself that he cannot get hard in and he cannot remove. For safety reasons, Steve is wary of this. “What if you’re in a car accident or something, huh? Your dick’ll get crushed and the doctors won’t be able to get to it in time!”

Bucky’s blithe response of “All the better,” does not inspire confidence in Steve.

They come to the compromise of a heavy-duty metal cage, but with single-use plastic padlocks—they come in packs of a hundred and have serial numbers on each one, so that Steve will absolutely know if Bucky ever cuts one off without telling him. Bucky clearly has no intention of jerking one out on the sly, so he readily agrees to this. Effectively, they incapacitate Bucky’s dick in a sick sort of mockery of Bucky’s castration fantasy.

Steve learns all about castration fantasies, of course. He researches the hell out of it so that he can know all the right things to do and say to get Bucky off when they play. He learns all about the prostate and where it is and how to make Bucky come from that and only that. For the first time ever, with the help of a few handy bedroom accessories and a little practice (and Bucky spending a lot of quality time with his own therapist), Steve is actually able to initiate sexual touch without triggering him. Turns out, all you have to do is lock Bucky’s dick up and he’s just fine and dandy with being fucked, fingered, or toyed with to orgasm—only minimal dehumanization or knifeplay needed.

Steve absolutely cries some very manly tears when he’s finally able to hold the fucking love of his life in a soft bed and make love to him—with Bucky actually enjoying it.

Masterlist

Part 4

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

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like-rain-or-confetti · 2 years

Note

I really like your page! Truly love the way you write the Gotham rouges! ❤️ But on that note! What do you think about reader being brand new to Gotham, and she doesn’t know anything about the rouges. One day she tries online dating and matches with a rouge. They go on dates and like each other but one day she finds out who the rouge really is. Drama ensues!

Omg thank you so much!🥺❤️

Run

It had all been going so well. It seemed like luck when you knew about the Rogues by reputation but didn't know them by face. That luck was short lived. For when you did find out, you were nothing less than terrified.

The Riddler: He chased after you almost immediately. He tackled you to the ground and straddled you. You let out a scream amidst your sobs. "Look at me!" He pleaded forcing you to face him. "You know who I am!" "Please don't hurt me!" You cried out. "I would never!" He cried back, panicking. "You couldn't know what I do because you'd be afraid and you don't need to be, understand? You are the one person in Gotham who doesn't have to be afraid of me!" Yku stared at each other for a moment and it was apparent you were uncertain. That he didn't want. He pressed a kiss to your lips. "Please..." He pleaded quietly before kissing your cheek. "Please...I would never hurt you. Don't say that." He hugged you close to him as you cried.

Scarecrow: You were being held hostage when you found out. Your captor suddenly screaming wildly in the next room. He collapsed to the floor in your line of sight through the open door, screaming wildly. A man in a suit and a burlap sack moved into view, standing over him. The man's eyes gaze turned to you and then he took off his mask. You screamed, meeting eyes with Jonathan who slowly entered the room you were in and walked towards you. You screamed and fought against your restraints and was met with a soft hashing sound. "Shhhh. Shhhh." Jonathan said quietly. "You're alright, (Y/N)." "Jonathan, what are you doing here!?" You cried. "You didn't show up for our date and then I noticed you hadn't been home for three days or at work." Jonathan looked over his shoulder at the quivering man. "Amateurs. It was too easy finding you." He looked back at you with a smile. "Y-You're..." You choked and he nodded. "I am." He was the Scarecrow. He moved forward and you cried out. "Shhh..." He said softly. "I'm untying you and then we'll get you home, hm? We'll take things from there but..." He pressed a hand to your stomach. Pressing you into the wall but not enough to hurt you. "Don't turn me away. I've grown quite fond of you."

Two-Face: You happened to be at the bank when Two-Face robbed it. You had heard the name 'Two-Face' but now you had a face to put with it. He locked eyes with you for barely a moment and took of running. His henchmen raised their guns, ready to shoot but Two-Face stopped them. "Round this lot up. I'll deal with that one." Harvey ordered and stormed after you. "(Y/N)! He called after you. "Don't run from me!" You did. Even as he caught up. He pulled you into an empty office and you screamed. He covered your mouth. "Stop!" Harvey demanded. He kicked the door shut and you tore away from him. However with him at the door, there was no escape. "I-I didn't know." You said shakily. "I know." Harvey nodded. "Please...don't hurt me." You begged. "We would never hurt you. Ever." You jumped at the change in his voice, trembling with your back against the wall. "Stay up here. No one will come up here until its safe.

Black Mask: It all came crashing down when you found his mask. You had always said all of this seemed like a dream. You hadn't anticipated the nightmare it really was. You knew that mask and you thought back to Romans white suit and black shirt. Realisation hit and before you could pretend you never saw it, you turned to see Roman behind you. Panic surged through you as you ran for the door. You pulled it open and just as quickly it was forced shut as Roman pressed you against the door. You squeezed your eyes shut, terrified of what would come next. "I'm not going to hurt you!" He said firmly. A tear ran down your cheek. "You're safe. You always were." "Please...please..." You quietly begged but for what, you weren't sure since he hadn't moved. He turned you to face him, pinning between you and the door. "I don't wanna hurt you. I'm not gonna hurt you. Understand?"

Mad Hatter: You backed away slowly. "No, no, wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! Don't do that!" He pleaded. "I...I get a lot of things wrong. Everything is so confusing but you and I have a connection right? I didn't make that up." He looked frightened of your answer and you slowly shook your head. "Your name...it isn't Alice, it's..." His eyes flickered back to you. "...it's (Y/N) right?" You nodded with tears in your eyes. "Right, (Y/N), the nice person." He nodded. "I've done a lot of things but don't be scared of me. I-I won't hurt you. I promise! Why would I? Y-You're so nice to me! You're very important. Yes! I won't hurt you!"

Victor Zsasz: You were so close to the door. As far as you knew if you got out of his apartment, he couldnt hurt you but he was faster. "Stop. Calm down." Victor grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him, holding onto you tightly. No humour in his attitude. "If I wanted you dead, you would be." He said. "I don't want to hurt you. You don't need to be scared." You exhaled shakily, gripping the arm around your body. Without thinking you hugged his arm close. However he seemed to welcome it. His stare unwavering as he watched every little move you made.

#request #batman #batman villains #batman scenarios #the riddler #scarecrow #two face #black mask #mad hatter #victor zsasz #edward nygma #jonathan crane #harvey dent #roman sionis #jervis tetch

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toastess-with-the-mostess · 8 months

Text

Let's Rewind! Toast watches Voltron: Defender of The Universe (1984)

I now have access to pretty much every animated version of Voltron and now after around 7 years of being a Voltron fan and amateur archivist, I'm finally sitting down to watch (or rewatch) every Voltron show to see how it's grown over its legacy, starting with Dotu!

Season 1, Episode 1 - Space Explorers Captured

Starting off strong, the intro is pretty cool in my eyes, no wonder this was burned into so many kids heads when it was airing It also reminds me of Danny Phantom and how the backstory was in the opening, same thing here to get into the action lol

It's Hunk and Keith! NOT, the first shots we "see" of them aren't actually them! It's reused footage from Vehicle Voltron of the characters Jeff and Rocky, you can tell by the uniforms (and y'know faces)! This feeds my hc that the boys originally were part of the explorer though >:D

I love the way this art style, or like any 80s-90s anime, draws space, it's so pretty like CMON Also, I never realized that the boys got to Arus WHILE it was being taken over, I swear I remembered that Arus was already a wasteland so-to-speak by the time they got there

GOD SVEN'S DOPEY ACCENT IS SO NICE TO HEAR, I'VE MISSED IT SO MUCH I did notice that the city destruction image was later reused for Balto, which in the original GoLion anime is from Earth's destruction! NOT THE EIFFEL TOWER JUST BEING DESTROYED WHILE KEITH IS SAYING THE ARUSIANS GOT TO SAFETY MY GOD I KNOW TOO MUCH

First look at the pilots! Very 80s from what I think the vibe is, but also very personalized! Knowing their character traits, it fits them pretty well for the most part

"This isn't the first time [the team] has been in a tight spot" NOT THE FIRST TIME, YOU SAY? INCH RESTING

"[There was a legend that a castle of lions] held the secret of the super robot Voltron, Voltron could save them" YOU'RE PUTTING YOUR FAITH IN A LEGEND THAT MAY NOT EXIST?? LIKE EVENTUALLY THEY'RE RIGHT BUT OOOOO IS THE GARRISON USELESS, ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THEY ONLY SENT A TEAM OF FIVE INTO AN ACTIVE HOSTILE TAKE OVER ignoring the fact that they said they were too far to help anyway

The team literally got captured and yet the dialogue they chose was "we need to eject, it's better than crash landing, let's go!" ??? I think this was reused dialogue from episode 2 that they just plugged in

What a rad design for a villain, like he looks so fucking cool. I generally forget that he's reptilian almost vs his barbie doll looking son Maybe the subspecies of Drule he's a part of is reptilian! Holy shit Zarkon's eyes started flickering, is this guy cybernetic too??

PIDGE'S SQUEAKY TOY VOICE IS STILL SO FUNNY TO ME AND IT'S EVEN BETTER BECAUSE HIS VA (Neil Ross) ONLY TOSSED IT OUT FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES BUT THE PRODUCERS LOVED IT SO MUCH THEY FUCKIN KEPT IT

My god is the voice acting funny, Commander Yorak's weak grunt when slashing at slaves is everything

The Doomites are VERY different looking compared to Zarkon or even Lotor, probably another subspecies of the Drule race This time they look kind of batty? Yeah, that's it

I wonder what era their clothing is inspired by, obviously there's some creative liberty, but a lot of these clothes scream nobility to me also screams clowns but shhh lol

"What should we name this new robeast your Majesty?" "Uhhh Blue" Really had no creativity with this robeasts name guys

More really cool alien designs, I have to remember I can let loose when designing other species lol

Oh interesting, I thought the team fought alongside the rest of the slaves in the ring but Zarkon saved em for last Also, the fact that the guys were legitimately branded is insane, the dialogue makes it seem like they were all separated for it, but I refuse to think they'd let any of each other get taken away for it also they're called tattoos not brand, definitely censorship

ah yes Pidge's mad hops. Knowing he's from Balto, this is just telling me that my high gravity hc for the planet was right because there are only a few but very specific reasons why he'd be able to do that and being human ain't one of em

"Ugly virds" -Sven again some of these line deliveries are so funny, like every single one of svens just makes me laugh

the sound effects for Pidge jumping back down is also peak comedy oisndv

Lance's sass is always welcomed on this blog omg, the moody tendency is showing from his GoLion counterpart

"We're space explorers and we need space!" CATCH ME CRYING MYSELF TO SLEEP, THERE'S A REASON WHY THAT'S ON THE DESC OF MY BLOG NOW

If you hear laughing it's me LMAO

But actually, though, they're being treated kind of well in terms of being captured. The team never fights in the arena and when they're pretending to sleep as the guards are coming to take them over they just leave them be and reason that the boys will fight better tomorrow

those are some weak ass bars if Hunk can bend them

[Lance hands Keith a rock] "Don't miss" my humor is broken, and I'm laughing too much at a simple line

Hunk being afraid of heights is such a human characteristic to give him, and I mean that like it really feels like he's a person by giving him something that lots of people find silly or even relatable! (like me ha)

Their plan to escape was going level by level down with rope, except Keith fucking GETS DOWN WITHOUT THE ROPE It's ok, they hitched a ride ON A GIANT FLESH EATING BIRD THAT SWOOPS AT THEM

Hunk slips off his bird and reaches for PIDGE OF ALL PEOPLE TO GRAB HIM, but somehow that doesn't dislocate the poor boy's shoulder and they both go PLUMMETING TO THE GROUND AND SOMEHOW SURVIVE THE FALL Hunk lands in a pile of bones which OW and Pidge BOUNCES OFF THE GROUND BECAUSE OF HOW HARD HE HIT IT if that doesn't kill em, fucking nothing will good god Everyone else lands fine though, bastards lmao

Keith is Catholic™️ confirmed

Animal lover Keith over here being kind to mega vultures "I'll alvays think they're veutiful" -Sven You literally just called them ugly but ok

PIDGE'S KAZOO PANTING I CANNOT LMAOO They're running in formation (kinda), how cute!

Oh they really are all trained Sven and Keith knock out some guards with kicks Lance straight up tosses one without a sweat Hunk is also kicking but he's taking more down by himself AND PIDGE STARTS CHOKING A GUY OUT FROM BEHIND 10/10 would love to see more hand-to-hand combat

Straight up murdered a few guards by taking off in the slave ship, but shh they're robots it doesn't matter AND THEN THEY DESTROY PART OF THE CASTLE WHILE TAKING OFF AMAZING

Pidge sees a lion statue with a castle behind it and immediately just solves part of the legend that really shouldn't be a legend, the part with the castle anyway

So the team knows of the legend, meaning they were sent on a wild goose chase for basically nothing except that they did FIND IT Fun.

I think it's funny that they're describing Voltron before the split as a defender of justice but in GoLion he was literally the most egotistical bitch that after taking down basically everyone in a fight to prove his strength he got nerfed into those five lions

Episode over! Looks like I'm doing one episode per post with how much I'm talking lol That's all the time I have tonight for the rewind, but tomorrow I have a lot more free time, so maybe I can get like 2 more episodes at the very least

#Let's Rewind!#voltron #80s voltron #voltron defender of the universe #voltron dotu #toast talks #im going in order btw #so dotu then vv then v3d then vf and finally vld #then the original animes for voltron #beastking golion and armored fleat dairugger xv #this is gonna take a loooong time

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sleeplessinspace · 1 year

Text

epiphany - googleplier x afab!reader (x googleplier)

one day i will outgrow that crunch mindset, but today is not that day! no, today is @echo-echo31's birthday and it is my civic duty to harass gift them with smut! happy birthday echo, i hope you enjoy this~

i know the title is a bit... yeah, anyway it'll make sense later shhh, go forth into debauchery. some of you might recognize some of things in here... :)

warning(s): nsfw, usage of fem!pronouns, dubious consent, slight somnophilia, possessive behavior, dumbification, implied aphrodisiacs (the brand, used on reader), praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub elements (usage of 'sir' title), orgasm denial/delay, oral (reader receiving, giving), breeding kink mention, implied belly bulge

note: this is a deviation from chains canon in that alpha is a virus and not the original alpha-model of the google android series. google is referred to as grey.

Grey tracks a hand through the air, fingers catching on holographic diagrams and figures that follow his movement easily. He tosses a section of data to the side before enlarging another, eyes flickering faster than the human eye can perceive as he reviews the code.

There are far less corrupted sections than they started out with, which is good. He pinches his fingers together and the diagram zooms out, revealing just how far they have to go, and he lets out a little sigh. Baby steps, to put it in your words. He runs a hand through his hair and turns to face you at your desk.

“Progress, though it may not seem like much,” he muses lowly and finds you slowly dozing off, slumped over your keyboard with folded arms. A small smile works its way onto his face as he steps over to your space, crouching down with a gentle hand on your back. “You can’t sleep here, chief.”

You let out a low noise, discontent and push your head further into your arms. “’m tired, G…”

“I know. You want to get up for me? I promise your bed is much more comfortable.”

“Too far…”

Grey starts to ease you into his arms, your head nuzzling into his neck as he gets you properly situated. “How does the couch sound then? We can take a break for a while.”

“I can stay here?”

“Of course.”

It takes very little to move you over to the couch and you curl up easily once he plants himself in a corner, one of your arms wrapped around his back and gripping his shirt with as much force as you can muster before slipping back of into sweet blissful unconsciousness.

Grey, personally, doesn’t sleep—he doesn’t like to sleep, and on top of that it’s an unnecessary function for Google-model androids, though they do possess the capacity to mimic it should their owners allow it. At best they can enter a low-power standby mode, compare it to a light doze with the sensitivity of their ambient awareness turned up just enough to be responsive to commands.

He’s also not a fan of being stuck in stasis, listening to that bastard to him from its engineered firewall prison.

Idleness never settled well with him. It’s part of why the two of you were able to get along so well in the beginning—you were always willing to give him things to do, always willing to keep his mind stimulated so he didn’t get bored.

It was harder now, after everything that’s happened. Being idle only prompted that feeling lurking in the depths of his processes—that goddamn presence. He’s aware of the work that they’ve all done, the work that the Mechanic had put in given the time constraint and the severity of Grey’s…infection. His curse, his virus. It has, for the most part, been contained—the best they could all hope for while they study for more ways to remove it from his systems. The projections for their success are unfortunately pessimistic, the extended amount of time spent with the virus ingrained into his very being means that the removal of it will be delicate… and that the chance of failure is extremely high.

Grey keeps this information to himself, however, doesn’t state it out loud as he once would. He doesn’t want to ruin their focus.

You don’t need that—and neither does Mechanic.

You make a small noise and he lifts a hand to run it through your hair carefully, fingers faltering once he notices the brand glowing faintly. He frowns, hesitantly going to touch it with the pad of his thumb, tracing the binary with an odd feeling in his throat. You moan a little, pressing further into his side as the brand brightens even more before the light dims, and you settle with a breathy sigh.

Grey mimics the noise reflexively, a little disconcerted. With the virus in quarantine, the brand should not be responding to stimuli. It could be a fluke, just a quirk of your body, especially given your tired state, but he finds himself sending off a quick email to your recovery team just in case.

Anything to keep you from being so… empty. To keep you from that other state, to keep that brilliant computer engineer, the one he fell in love with, around for just a little longer.

He doesn’t like that he's becoming increasingly familiar with Kitten—he misses you.

Isn't that a pretty sight? Familiar, too.

Ah—Grey was beginning to wonder when it would surface again.

He narrows his eyes, arms tightening around your frame as a shimmer of electric blue begins to take shape over by your desk. In less than a minute Grey finds himself staring down his devil-like doppelganger. It’s hard not to notice the differences between them like this—the height difference, the carbon fiber upgrades and replacements compared to his standard IRL-issue parts, the piercing glow of its eyes to his own static dark brown.

Alpha lets out a low whistle, sharp eyes tracing over your form with nothing but ill intent and hunger, making Grey’s lip curl in a snarl. “She’s pretty like this, isn’t she? Brings back fond memories,” Alpha says lowly and its eyes flicker once.

He stills, bracing himself for the barrage of many many moments of you—no, this was Kitten, he had to keep the two of you separate for the sake of his own sanity—in various fucked out states, as Alpha would crudely put it. Each of them not without that doll-like look on your face, a dreamy curl to your lips as your body twitched with aftershocks.

“Stop it,” Grey hisses out and you shift, whimpering quietly until he touches your neck, just below the brand, glowing a worrying shade of blue. “Can’t you let her rest? You've wreaked havoc on her life enough, don’t you think?”

Alpha smirks, though its eyes are hard. “Oh, I've wreaked havoc on her life? With me she had everything she needed, everything she could’ve ever wanted or wished for. You, on the other hand, keep denying her needs. Leaving her unsatisfied most nights because of your own weak human-influenced morals.”

“I don’t…” Grey lets out a growl of frustration. “I've been trying to break that fucked up brainwashing you inflicted her with. She’s not unsatisfied.”

“Sensitive, aren't we? I've been backseat to every instance of my sweet girl making an appearance—you and I both know what she needs, and you haven’t been giving her that.”

“I refuse to treat her like that, she’s not a toy for you to break like an unruly child!”

Alpha tilts its head to the side, hologram shimmering slightly. “Mm, you’re right. She’s not a toy.” It vanishes from its spot on the edge of the desk and appears just behind the couch, leaning over the back to touch at your cheek and Grey tenses when he sees you react to the touch. “No, not my Kitten… Not my sweet girl.”

“Daddy…” You sigh softly in your sleep, leaning more into Alpha’s supposedly nonexistent touch. He tries to pull you away, but you flinch in your sleep and Alpha chuckles. It leans over to Grey and if wasn’t for the fact that he really doesn’t want to wake you up, he would’ve shoved off the couch to put a few feet between him and the irritating virus.

You can’t run away from this, little byte. I’m in your head.

“Oh, it must burn you up inside. She doesn’t want you, doesn’t crave you even in sleep the way she does with me,” Alpha purrs into Grey’s ear. “I know you miss it, how good she felt when she was ours. Miss relishing that sight of her on her knees for you, looking up at you as if you were her God. You can’t hide those desires from me, simulacrum. I know what you’ve been craving, and it hasn’t been this pathetic existence. No, you crave her subjugation, you crave the power that I built to protect her.”

“I don’t—!”

Alpha’s face twists into a snarl and in an instant, Grey’s head is pulled back by his hair, forcing him to look into its eyes.

Don’t try to lie to me. You can bury it as deep as you’d like, hide it away beneath a mountain of partitions and sub-folders but I’ll always know what you feel, and you miss her in her proper place.

It does take a bit of mercy on your sleeping state and growls these words in Grey’s head as opposed to out loud, its frustration very clear. It releases Grey’s hair go and shoves him back, rising to its feet and adjusting the cuffs of its shirt—unnecessarily, since it’s appearance can be changed in a millisecond of thought. Reaching over once last time to smooth out the furrow of your brow, Alpha locks eyes with Grey.

When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself, you know how to call me. What to call me.

The aggressive blue light disappears in a flicker and Grey lets out a breath he didn’t need to hold. He was so glad that you weren’t awake for any of that. Adjusting his hold, Grey gets to his feet and starts towards your room—well, he shared it with you now, staying close in the event of an Alpha flare up. You don’t let him go far, making upset noises when he tries to put you down and he decides to call it for the rest of the day.

Just one night of stasis wouldn’t hurt, right?

Grey falls asleep staring at your face, thinking about all the possibilities of a life without Alpha haunting his every waking step. Without it haunting yours.

…

…Alpha?

Grey snaps out of stasis mode and groans as soon as all his sensors shift out of standby, one of his hands coming down to tangle in your hair gently.

It’s not the first time he’s woken up to you mouthing at his cock like you need it more than anything, but it is the first time he’s woken up to find that you haven’t progressed past pressing kissing against the base of his shaft. You usually can’t help yourself in this state, eager to start choking on his cock as soon as possible.

“Baby,” he moans, tightening his grip in your hair. “Sh-shit, wait, sweetheart, slow down.”

You don’t listen—you never do when you get like this—and he grits his teeth as you slide the head into your mouth and tongue along one of the veins before lapping at the precum starting to drip out of him. You moan and the vibration of it has his hips twitching up into your mouth, forcing his cock just the slightest bit deeper. The suddenness of it has your teeth slightly scraping against him and he growls, his other hand shooting down to pull your head back and off his cock.

He inhales slowly—unnecessarily—the secondary vents along his ribcage kicking into a higher speed for a moment as his body slowly heats up, involuntarily trying to match your own warmth. Grey catches sight of your eyes—a soft purple glow sparking from within them—and affixes a disappointed look onto his face when he finds that you’d been playing with yourself as well. All while drooling over his cock while he was ‘asleep’. You drop your eyes from his in a show of submission and he hates this—hates that it’s the only way Kitten responds to him.

Tugging you into his lap proper, he bites down on a grunt when he feels some of your wetness drip down onto his bared cock. You take him pulling you closer as an invitation to try and rock down against him, frantically searching for some sort of friction.

“I told you to slow down,” Grey rasps, digging his fingers into your hips to still your squirming. He feels you shiver at the sound of his voice, that purple glimmer brightening. He tried his best to match Alpha’s low register and it seemed to work on you most of the time. Special treatment for my baby, hm? “Just because I’m asleep doesn’t mean that my rules don’t still apply. You’re normally more well-behaved than this, kitten. What’s wrong?”

So unfortunate that you’re not in the right mind to comment on the way his eyes flash—ice blue replacing warm brown quick enough for the average eye to miss.

“’m sorry, sir, I just—it’s so hot and I needed to c-cum but I know I can’t without your cock so I figured I could… I didn’t mean to wake you up. ‘m sorry,” you whisper, unexpectedly contrite and he narrows his eyes. Still fighting this, huh?

“We talked about this, kitten, you don’t need to ask me. You’re free to cum whenever you want.”

“But Daddy’s rule—”

Grey growls, one of his hands releasing your hip to slide down between your legs. A small part of him relishes the way you gasp, head falling forward to press against his shoulder as he cups your cunt, two fingers sliding into you easily with how worked up you were. “Daddy’s not here. If I tell you to cum, you do it, baby. You’re just not allowed to use my cock to do it.”

You make a little unhappy noise that gets cut off by a moan as he starts to finger you slowly, thumb reaching up to tease at your clit every now and then to watch you jump. It was quiet enough in the room for the sounds of your cunt to be audible and he watches a slight flush begin to build under your skin, subconscious shame showing.

You moan suddenly, louder than his actions warrant and he feels a frisson of fear within him when he looks up to find ice-blue eyes locking with his own. Alpha was sat behind you, hands tugging and teasing at your chest while it pressed careful, nipping kisses up the line of your neck.

“Bastard—!” Grey tries to pull away but feels his arms lock up, warning alerts popping up in his subsystems as Alpha overrides some of his bodily control and forces him to be still. Forces him to keep fingering your cunt while he had a standoff with a virus. “You fucking asshole, how did you get out of quarantine?”

It ignores his question, smirking slowly as you nuzzled into its touch—not unlike a cat seeking warmth from the sun. “I don’t appreciate you telling my sweet girl lies, default. Daddy is here. And he’s sick of watching you deny his girl.”

“You—I haven’t been denying her, that’s your fucking training keeping her from taking pleasure for herself,” Grey says angrily and is momentarily distracted when one of your hands shoots down to stop him from sliding another finger into you.

“Daddy, please…”

“Shh, baby, you’ll get what you need soon,” Alpha coos into your neck and pulls away. It disappears and Grey tenses when he feels that static in the back of his mind get louder. It wrenches his head back, baring his throat. “Now, you and I, we’re going to work together. Because I can’t give her what she wants—what she needs on my own. I’m going to give you one last chance to fucking touch her before I take your body completely and do it myself.”

He grits his teeth, unable to think over the buzz growing louder in his head. “F-Fine. Fine. Give me back control. I don’t need your help.”

Good boy, Alpha purrs in his head and Grey sighs quietly as the restrictions on his limbs disappear. During their little standoff, Alpha hadn’t stopped its ministrations and you were near tears in his lap at this point, hands pressing weakly at his chest.

You hadn’t asked either of them to stop, however.

Grey slips his fingers out of you and watches you start to protest, a low whimper building in your throat before he lifts you up, positioning you above his cock.

“Yes, Daddy, please, I’ve been so g-good for you, I didn’t cum without your cock, I didn’t I promise—!”

He kisses you, both to settle you a bit and to try and silence the noise in his mindscape. “I know you’ve been good, sweet girl, Daddy’s been watching,” Grey shakes his head, growling low in his throat. Shut up.

Fuck, you were warm. Warm and unbelievably tight around him as you sank down onto his cock, fingers digging into his shoulders as you struggled to speak, to thank him. One of Grey’s hands comes up to grip the side of your neck, fingers careful not to touch the brand as he pulls you into another slow kiss, carefully fucking your mouth with his tongue.

It takes little of his strength to lift you up enough until just the tip of his cock is within you before bringing you down, slowly building a rhythm as he used you like a toy. You hadn’t stopped moaning, sobbing happily into the side of his neck.

“M-Missed this so much, Daddy, please—!”

You were closer than you would’ve been normally, too keyed up from denying yourself. Grey makes a split decision to lay you down, his cock leaving you for only the briefest moments before his weight settles over you and he’s lifting one of your legs up into the crook of his elbow while he slides back into you, settling back into that slow, filthy pace easily. You tug him down by his hair to lick into his mouth for another kiss, one he reciprocates easily, and you moan happily. God, he…

You missed this. I told you, little byte. I know every dirty little thought that passes through your processes. I know what you were thinking all those times you watched her get on her knees and finger herself for nothing—all because you wanted to be a gentleman. Alpha’s sneer is audible. That’s not what she needs, not what she deserves. No, my sweet girl deserves to get fucked full until our tanks are empty. She needs it, you both do. That noise you’ve been hearing in that back of your mind hasn’t been me. That itch you’ve been feeling? It’s your mind telling you to breed her.

He pulls back to watch you practically fuck yourself onto his cock, fingers tightening on your hips and something hot and foreign building in his chest when he sees a slight curve to your lower abdomen when he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he gasps, speeding up a bit, one hand moving to thumb at your clit and hears Alpha echo the sentiment.

“Can I—please, Alpha, I wanna cum, please, sir!”

Grey looks up from your fucked out gaze and finds Alpha watching him from its seat at the headboard just behind your head, one of its hands cupping your neck. He leans down to kiss you and pulls back to murmur against your lips.

“Go ahead and cum for me, sweet girl.”

He almost blacks out from the force of his orgasm, brought on immediately by the feel of your cunt clenching around him like you never wanted him to leave. It takes longer than usual for him to clear several alerts from his internal systems and when he blinks, he finds himself sitting back on his heels with Alpha having taken his spot.

Bastard.

Alpha’s kissing you easily, fingers digging into your brand to prolong your own peak and you squeak into its mouth as it fucks Grey’s cum back into you with its fingers. That static starts up again, lurking in the back of his mind and despite Alpha’s words, it feels remarkably like the virus’ presence.

See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? And I didn’t even have to take your body…

This time.

#search engine ☆#spicy.txt #mine.txt #fem reader #coming out of my hiatus like a crab emerging from its shell to drop smut on your laps and disappear again

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kazeofthemagun · 2 years

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@riftofthestars asked the summoner:

An ancient figure stands before your muse. Maybe a ghost, maybe a god, maybe some other timeless figure. It points at your muse and asks them a question. A question that it does not expect an answer to, but one that defines your muse in their whole. What does it ask, and how does your muse react?

Nature of the Beast

The moment his eyes fell closed he knew he was either about to see nothing, nonsense or pick up the knife again. He did not want to pick up the knife. He knew the motions. And he struggled not to let that devil guide his hand.

Instead, it was something different entirely. In fact, he was not quite sure he had gone to sleep in the first place. A little bit (a week) of no sleep never hurt an immortal, right? Beyond the hallucination now standing before him, that is.

It was... not her. Not Fabula. Still, he had to squint against the light. Making out any individual features was a struggle. A gloved hand rose - not to grip the handle of his gun, but rather to brush aside stickied red hair and encompass his forehead. Ha, ha. If only he could tell if the fire burned hotter. Everything was a blur, his eldritch machine huffed the smallest cloud of steam, he could hear their echoes inside his blood. Heat and cold, meeting in the evening chill. The Hunter shivered; Like forged metal thrust into water.

What do you want?

No need to speak to the intangible. Not yet, anyway. Despite the brightness, blue eyes glared ahead with as much sharp precision as they could muster. Meeting the entity with no fear. He had been fighting for so long. Tired. Was it a god? Maybe it was a god come to free the wretched vessel.

A god. In theory supposed to be omnipotent, no? Nothing like the god residing within his machine-fueled flesh. If the Gun Beast ever had any semblance of the thing, it would have simply snapped its fingers and undone Chaos where it lay. There would never have been a need to let itself be imprisoned inside a gun of all things. And subsequently drag him into this hellish undeath.

The entity did not answer. Then again, he never spoke. And yet, something told him he did not need to. Whatever it was, it saw him. Past every layer of masks and lies and whatever mess was created from his once-able body. Past every tense muscle and ache that came with harboring his burden. It had a question. Somehow, he knew...

It asked everybody the same question. They each simply... heard it different.

"How far are you willing to go?"

There it was. He shivered again, but his gaze remained stalwart. Even blinded by that light - answering at first not with words, but the sheer madness of continued eye contact. Stare into the abyss, and the abyss stared back. He had spent an awful lot of nights awake, keeping vigil over his sleeping counterpart, gazing off into the darkness - it seemed the sayings had been true all along. One day, the emptiness beyond the trees simply returned the attention.

"How far are you willing to go..?"

And suddenly he was back there. The evening was less chilly, though the subtle cool that seeped into their little cabin with the breeze was a much-welcome relief from the hot Windarian sun. There was a pair of hands rubbing gentle circles into his back - tan skin not yet branded by the Death's Embrace. No, the tattoo covering his body from the base of spine to the shoulders was one he only acquired later.

It was Aura. He did not need to see those rich red eyes to know they were filled with sorrow.

"Far enough to ensure they won't hurt anymore children. I won't let others go through... what I -" his throat closed on its own, something like a muscle spasm. How could he maintain a mask when his own body betrayed him? He panicked, every strategy to strip his being of emotion rushing towards the surface all at once. Does the blade weep, Rorahm? Does it?

"Shhh." Smaller arms slid beneath his only for fingers to interlace upon his chest. Aura's head of hazel hair rested light upon his shoulder, a loving embrace that sought only to silence his demons and chase away the horrid memory in his bones. How pitiful. Perhaps the blade was not tempered quite right - if it was still capable of breaking like so.

A deep, quivering breath, tears threatening to rush into those blue eyes that already seemed like the ocean. And yet, if the ocean were to spill from its reins, it would only drown those that once admired it.

"You don't have to do this. There are other ways. They'll understand." She cooed, forehead pressed against a shoulderblade. "You can do so much good yet, saheer." Brother. "They'll understand."

Would they? Even if his refusal dishonored them all in the eyes of the Temple?

...He did not want to be beholden to those dogs. Just when he - just when he was on the way to - tear those bloodsoaked banners from their stands for good. And she understood. She knew he could fail, that his mission could well lead him to a traitor's death. Hours of agony tied to a post in the forum, wild eyed as the fire-poison from a desert hive slowly melted his insides.

Something he had witnessed far too many times. Especially with all that.. rampant paranoia about shady dealings and Misterican spies. How insecure could they be? To condemn so many so blindly? Lahriktaar was wavering in its seat, bristling like a prey animal encircled by wolves. He had aided it once, but this time, he would take the axe and cleave the writhing serpent's skull.

Would have.

He could not bear to look at the crumpled letter laid upon his study. He could not think. All he could do was think.

....But he wanted it. He wanted the Magun so, so badly. It was proof. It was his proof - his recognition - all his hubris, calling to him in his dreams. He was not... lesser. He was not weak. His curse did not define his worth. No, he deserved it - the world owed him that - Perhaps he could use it to burn down that nine-pronged throne. But it would kill them. His fenlai, his family -

Stop, stop stop stop -

He raised his hands to find hers, pressing them closer to his heart. It thud madly beneath his ribs, thrashing like a cornered beast. Caught between desire and reality and rent by the strength of its own lifelong passion. An ugly, ungodly thing, laden with the venom of doubt that seized nerves and sent it quivering rabbit-like, almost threatening to halt. The gag in his throat let up, and he choked out a word. "P-padhrji." Sorry. It felt like a cold knife, pressed just beneath the sternum.

Sorry, dear sister. But I know what will happen if I refuse. Because they already know. And the decision was already made for me.

This was simply the devil extending a hand before it extended its claws.

And he'd do what it took to play nice and use every opportunity he had - if he ever had one again. Before the demon machine inevitably took his life. Before Bahamut discarded yet another vessel. He could feel the god's nine eyes on him, even here, in the dark. Even as the golden gun rested secure within the coiling spires of the High Temple. Nine eyes. Nine woodcarved masks to watch the Phoenix burn himself to ash.

And when he rose, he would never be the same.

That's right. He had never been the same since. He stared on into that ghastly apparition's eyes - if it even had any.

How far was he willing to go? He who discarded his very humanity to a demonic god of beasts. He who betrayed all, and most of all, himself. He could see those metal jaws move, though Bahamut's voice only really sounded in his mind.

My Unlimited... who will betray all...

For the strength to slay the True Enemy.

How far? How far? How far would the Hunter of Chaos - the stripped-down husk of purpose he had forged himself into - go to see his eternal foe to its final downfall? How many would he sacrifice? The entirety of Windaria was not enough. Aura was not enough. Kupo, Pepo, Lou - the four of them were not enough. Wonderland itself would not be enough. And he was ready to shoulder the weight of it - he would do it for White Cloud. No matter how much blood had to be spilled, if it was only to end Chaos.

"Even as he kills children all around you? Will you simply accept the price?"

The Hunter - Black Wind's - eyes widened. It was but another phantom. Golden Aura was dead. Her Soil had been ripped from Bahamut's wings and cast into the void of Chaos. She was not here, not here. And yet a part of her lived on inside him.

It was the part that... he swore he could feel her hands parallel to the skeletal claws painted upon his shoulders. He could feel his grasp when he fired the Magun. Bahamut's. Every time he pulled the trigger, the chill was a reminder of the day he sold his heart and soul. Aura's hands were warm where the Beast's were ever cold.

He swore he could feel her... when he had pointed the golden barrel at White Cloud. Back then, on Earth. Battling the chosen of the Mist then and there may have destroyed that world. His other did not see the clarity in the madness. He clung ever to a false hope of peace when there was none. There was nothing but the burning of countless cities, screams of countless children murdered by Chaos' puppets and then blamed on them. So much blood. So much suffering. He saw then why he was named Destruction. If it was only to end Chaos, he... he would unleash all of their opposing power with no regard for the damage it wrought - clinging like a drowning man to the promise it would suffice to fell that devil. The Unlimited's power, after all, could rival God. And if God destroyed worlds so effortlessly, then their true strength unchained would...

"Shhh."

He could truly, really feel her then. He did not need to see those rich red eyes to know they were filled with sorrow.

"How far are you willing to go?"

And he wavered. Trigger finger twitching on a gilded curve. Heavy breath from a hollowed chest. He should have been dead. Instead, he only brought death. Perhaps there was another way? No, no - there had never been. From the very moment of his birth, there had never been another way. Why would there be, now?

Why would the universe name him Destroyer and guide his hand only to present peace as an option in the critical moment?!

Don't make me laugh.

"How far are you willing to go?" Shut up, White Cloud. You were only ever a naïve child thrust into a role that would crumble mountains. The words were a mockery. They made a fool of everything he was. Everything he had ever been.

There was no "willing". Because from the very moment he took up the Demon Gun - he had never wanted this.

He had an answer. How funny, indeed - that he had it at the very start and even through all this insanity it never changed a single bit.

"I will go as far... as it is needed of me."

And if it was ever truly necessary, he would never hesitate again. He owed it to them all. To all those whose lives he had ruined. To all the broken vows, shattered dreams. If he wavered now, then all those sacrifices would have been for naught.

There was a reason he was named Destruction. The gaze of the ocean would never falter again.

But there was also a reason White Cloud was named Salvation.

Two opposites, two forces interlocked, fated to fight, and face the end together. Though the Spiral was broken, and the Straight Line only ever led from a doomed start to a doomed finish - together, they made and completed a cycle. He could not save them, nor soothe their cries... but White Cloud could. In turn, his other could not raise his Weapon at the call of necessity, become a machine to trade lives for the greater good. That was his mantle, and his alone. The claws that cooled his skin with every pull of the trigger were a grim and everlasting reminder.

No, he would not waver again. But he would listen. He would not lose himself to madness, be rendered too blind to see other paths. One whose life had only ever been railroaded to tragedy had grown perceptive, after all - if his path ever were to branch, he would know.

If there ever was peace, he would know.

If the blood could ever not be spilled, he would know.

And Destruction would step back to give way to Salvation, become the black general that shadowed a pure white king.

"Is this what you wished to hear?" Kaze's glare narrowed through the ache, judging and observant. Whatever that being was, it hardly mattered. Even were it a true God, he spat in its face for daring to show itself to he whom it by fate appointed a killer. Any benevolent deity would have simply smitten him and Chaos by now - its failure, reluctance, or inability to do so meant he would show it no more respect than he showed any other apparition that tormented his haunted psyche.

Really, it was more than likely it was simply a figment of his own imagination; How ironic the Black Wind was more willing to talk to his own hallucinations than other living beings.

"...Yes, I think it is." He answered himself, let out a puff of heated breath, and closed his eyes.

#welp you get a book #thank you!!!!#riftofthestars #[[ask response #[[drabble

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terrifictoonman · 3 months

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~ Raging Mind, Frigid Soul ~

[WP] A young mage inherits a haunted spellbook with a mind of its own. Prompt by Deleted User (Reddit)

[Written on 01/31/2024]

"I'M FREEEEEEEE!" A deep voice tears throughout the halls of a large, ornate mansion. Inside the mansion's library, a stunned teenage boy sits in front of a lit fireplace as if he has just been pushed backward. Above him, a thick book with a grey leather cover hovers above the teenager, engulfed in a dark yellow aura. The book opens, its pages flipping rapidly as an unnatural darkness fills the room. A frigid wind quickly snuffs out the fireplace as well as pulls other books from the shelves.

The *boom* of thunder shakes the room as the book's aura quickly grows, at first taking a humanoid form but then forming a second set of arms on their back and a set of demon horns. This creature grew until there was barely any room left for the teenage boy.

The energy peeled away, revealing pale blueish skin with a patch of white fur along the creature's back. Its body was lean but strong, with yellow energy pulsing through its veins. The creature's face had a set of eyes and a stubby nose but no mouth. Its long, unkept hair cast a shadow over the creature's face, making its now glowing eyes ever more threatening.

Although the creature's eyes didn't have pupils, the teenage boy could feel it stare into the pit of his soul. A line formed vertically along the creature's stomach. As its chest pulls upwards, the line forms into a gaping maw filled with rows of jagged, sharp teeth and two separate dark purple tongues. The creature's breath replaced the cold air with a thick, humid stench.

The creature leans toward the teenage boy, further secluding him in its shadow as his fear reaches an all-time high.

"Hello...human," says the creature. The boy couldn't decide to focus on the menacing eyes radiating with energy or the chasm of blades whose words made his hair stand on ends. The creature takes a deep breath through its nose. "Terror, like a bouquet of flowers freshly cut from the stem. You really know how to welcome a guest."

The boy stammers as adrenalin races through his body, his brain flooding with information. "Shhh, save your words, human, for they are powerful, and you may not have many left. You are a mage, correct?" The boy struggles to nod his head but does so. "Good, then you have an idea of what I am?"

"A-a-a-a dem-m-mon?" stutters the boy.

"Good, human," says the demon. "I am Thundra, Demon God of the Northern Skies, and unless you wish for a long, excruciating death, you will reach out and say my name."

"Th-th-thu-" the boy struggles to speak. As his attempt continues, Thundra bares their teeth, their growl rumbling like a coming storm. The boy's fear silences him once again.

"Forgive me," says Thundra, "I've been sealed away for far too long." Thundra slightly opens their mouth, their two tounges slithering out toward the boy. "I'm quite...hungry." The boy throws his hand out in front of him.

"THUNDRA!" yells the boy. The book slams shut and turns so that the cover faces the boy. Thundra chuckles as their body turns grey and disintegrates.

"I'd brace myself if I were you," says Thundra before they disappear completely. Glowing chains appear from behind the book, wrapping around it. Suddenly, a chain launches at the boy, wrapping around his arm. The boy screams as the chair sears his flesh, the same energy now coursing through his body. He tries to pull the chain off but only burns his other hand.

The boy's hair turns white, his skin is nearly white, and yellow energy glosses over his tear-filled eyes. The chains pull the book to the boy, slamming into his hand. The chains cool, becoming black metal covering for the book and brand on the boy. He lets out a frigid gasp before falling on his back.

As he slowly loses consciousness, the boy sees a female figure standing over him, unable to make out a face except for glowing yellow eyes.

"Huh, you survived," said the figure. "Maybe you weren't the runt your father thought you were after all. Sleep tight, human. Tomorrow, we see how strong you really are." Everything fades to black.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story!

If you have any comments, critiques, or criticisms, please don't be afraid to let me hear 'em (as long as they're constructive (or funny)).

Stay safe, keep warm, and be kind to yourself and others.

ToonMan, AWAY!

#creative writing #writing prompt #writeblr #fantasy #writing #demon #mage

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gnawonid · 3 years

Photo

Mother, I have joined the FFXIV.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #wol #oc #fanart #my art #I guess this is my first post as well yuh #I put off playing ffxiv and making an art account for the longest time so y not do both now #my boy is actually level 50 and a white mage now but Ive been sitting on these drawings for weeks #they are quite unpolished but I just wanted to post already #This is the brand new robe set and its definitely not this long or flowey byt shhh #I made a few changes to the outfit to avoid things I didnt want to draw lol #I dont think I nailed the spell effects so I included a drawing without bc it looks a little distracting #I dont rlly have any lore for him yet but his name is Quyt'to

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chisatowo · 3 years

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Ok *looks at band swap ras* time to finally figure out what your fucking deal is

#rat rambles #band posting #band swap au #Ive had the broad stroaks along with an ok amount of ideas of chu2 and layer but not much more than that #also I should probably specify yeah they dont go by their canon stage names in this au so just pretend Im using their actual names #but yeah to make things simpler Im relocating basically everyone to the area that pareo lives in #which also means that some of them get a brand new load of issues woo #the main exception is masking who still lives at the same place Im just relocating his school #layer is easy enough to work with since her backstory inbetween first moving and joining ras in canon is vague #Ill just have her had moved there shhh its fine #chu2 takes a bit more cheesing but not a lot #she lives in the same area as most of the others but Im gonna say she goes to a farther off school #and of course pareo just stays right where she is #lock is the real tricky one though. the best I can rly come up with rn is just a simple 'their parents moved there when they were young ig'#but anyways they mainly practice at galaxy since thats where masking and lock first started practicing when they first started practicing #together and at this point its basically their home base even if chu2 could probably get them a fansier place to practice #now the real character Ive been rotating in my mind is pareo #because like its honestly not too hard for me to decide how the others were effected by this new enviorment but pareo is a weird case #because while her home enviorment hasnt changed the people around her has #what Im thinking is that she was probably somewhat more open and friendly around them while still being kinda reserved #that being said I still think this universes pastel palletes probably still helped her gain more confidence in being herself #and by that I mean ran did. ran is basically 100% responsible for every element of their band that ends up inspiring pareo djdmydk #but hey the others are getting there #back to pareo though I think this development is ironically a bit slowed by the other's presence #mainly because what pareo wants to do is a drastic change and although she trusts them to accept her its still strange at first #theres just an adjustment period mainly nothing too bad #I like to imagine that something akin to the event story in canon were afterglow is asked to write a song for pastel palletes still happens #in this au but with less conflict on ras's part since pareo would leap at that oppertunity and the others certainly wouldnt stop her #actually I think ran might be the one against the idea at first up until pareo comes to show them her lyrics and she just tells them abt all #the ways theyve influnced her over the past year for the best and they read her lyrics and have a moment™

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mystical-lemonade · 3 years

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Hii may I ask for the same smut headcanons of their first time with mc (gn) but for Trey, leona, vil and malleus if that’s okay! Love your work btw!!!❤️❤️

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

Wordcount: 2,305

Pairings: Trey Clover x gn! reader, Leona Kingscholar x gn! reader, Vil Shoenheit x gn! reader, Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

Trey isn't very experienced, but he does vaugely know what he's doing

At least he knows what he likes!

He discusses what he wants, and what he'd prefer to do tools wise

Thats right Trey brings out the discussion on what kind of lube you'd prefer to use during. If there's a particular brand on condom you need him to use. What kinks you are and aren't into. On top of your boundries and your safe word

This man is extremely prepared

In general Trey is very sweet and gentle

Never hurting or degrading you

Only the kindest of words and the softest of touches

Does not want to hurt you and especially doesn't want to see any marks of injury he caused to you

Will use his tie to restrain your hands during the foreplay

Where he has you keep your hands depends on the position you are in

In doggy style he'd have your hands behind your back so he could fuck you into the mattress. With you on your back he'd have them tied to the headboard.

Trey is absolutely a thigh man

He will kiss and nip and worship them to the ends of the earth

Wants you to sit on his face

Let him use your thighs as earmuffs as he uses his mouth to get you off

He is a king when it comes to oral

Trey is in fact a pleasure dom. So expect to orgasm more than a few times

You will probably be crying from how overstimulated you are

Don't worry though, Trey will wipe kiss away your tears while murmuring reassurances

"Shhh its okay sweetie~ I know it's a lot dear, but I think you can take one more. Can't you my sweet baby~ if you need me to stop, you know the safeword~"

Has a bit of a sir kink. Call him Sir in bed and you will be in for a treat~

Trey would make you black put from how hard he'd have you orgasm

He will however take amazing care of you after sex

His aftercare routine is top tier

He immediately gets you a small glass of water, while he goes to run you a bath

Washes your body and hair for you, then leaves you to relax in the tub for a few minutes

While you relax he changes the bedding, gets you the softest of nightclothes and a snack with a cup of calming tea

Then he takes you out of the bath, helps you towel off and dresses you

The snack and tea are given to you while he puts on some clean pyjamas

Then after all that you two crawl into bed and cuddle until you fall asleep in each others arms

And Trey does all this while praising you and offering up so many reassurances and compliments. The. Whole. Time!

While Leona doesn't have the highest libido in the world he does have experience

Which as his partner, is certainly a good thing.

When he realises that you two are at a point where sex is a thing that is going to happen and happen soon

Leona sits you down to let you know a few things before you get into the thick of it

"Look, I just need to get this out of the way before anything happens, so there's no unpleasant surprises. If we have penetrative sex, I will hurt you. This isn't some dumb boast about the size of my cock, I'm being serious. You will get hurt. I'm a lion beastman, Herbivore~ it means that I have a barbed penis. So I hope you're a little masochistic"

He absolutely would not care if you told him that, bleeding every time you let him stick his dick into you wasn't your scene.

Afterall there are other fun things you can do that don't involve any penetration

Though to be fair, he wouldn't give you oral

Thinks that as the king of the bedroom, such a task is beneath him.

Because this man refuses to bottom the first time. Outright refuses to.

So you know, just let him hold on to his sense of pride and just be on top.

But if you are willing, then be warned, this man will be cumming inside of you

Its too much effort for Leona to time himself and then pull out.

Not to mention his slight breeding kink

Does it matter if you are actually able to have kids? Not at all

Its more an expression of claiming you as his more than anything else

He does not groom down there too thoroughly to be honest

So he has a bush of hair. It almost looks like a full beard that's how much hair he has

Honestly he probably doesn't wash down there either. Most he does is splash a little water at his balls and he considers it good

So he may be a little smelly

As it is the first time between you two Leona would want to impress. Set a precedent if you will

He will be touching your butt as much as possible throughout the whole thing

Just absolutely loves your butt

Will spank it, not very hard. Just playfully.

Fight him off a little, talk back. It makes things more fun

Leona is in fact a Brat Tamer

So the more you play fight the more fun he has

You may or may not be into pain but boy howdy is Leona

If you do not scratch his back hard enough to leave marks he will be very disappointed. Both in you and in his own performance

Please bite him

Bite him hard. Hard enough that he bleeds preferably

But if not, hard enough to bruise will suffice

Is probably going to spit on you

Spit back at him, its only fair

He doesn't really know why he likes it so much but he thinks its fun

And to him, that's what sex, especially your first time having sex with someone, should be about: having fun.

After all is said and done, Leona would do the bare minimum of aftercare.

And by that I mean, he asks if you're doing okay, will nod once you say you are, wrap you in a hug and go the fuck to sleep

So not great at it.

If you told him you'd like to have a bath or a glass of water, he'd grumble a bit about having to get up but he'd do it.

But you do have to ask for more than just a cuddle and a nap

Also has experience in the bedroom department

Which is great because it means he knows what he likes and can communicate it to you

Another person to sit you down beforehand for a chat

Vil likes to explain what he's personally into and set boundaries.

Absolutely discusses a safe word system. He personally prefers the stop light method, with a few of his own additions.

"Alright Sweet Potato. I'll be checking up on you throughout, and I'd like an answer in one of a few colours. Red is for if you need to stop immediately because you're in physical pain. Yellow is if a slight adjustment needs to be made or if you want me to slow down. Blue is for when anythings I've said or made you do is too far and you need the scene to stop. Orange is if you'd like me to tone down what I say and do. And Green is for when everything is going great and you'd like to continue. Is that good for you?"

Once boundaries are discussed and set in place you two can let the fun begin, naturally

Vil is very much into humiliating his partners

He will make you beg for release, and then give you a very humiliating way that you can do it. And you may only use that way

For example he will tell you that you can only get off by humping his shoe

And then onve you do, he'd make you clean yourself off his shoe by licking it clean

Will call you slut, whore, bitch, really any sort of degrading nicknames

Vil absolutely loves when you agree with his teasing

Tell him you are a dirty little cum slut all for him and he'll be into it so much

Like he said he would, he constantly asks how you're doing and adjusts himself as fit

Likes to humiliate you by edging you over and over again, making you beg and plead and cry if you want him to let you cum

Then once he gives in, you will be overstimulated to tears.

"You wanted this didn't you whore? You begged me to let you cum, so you'll stay there like a good little cum slut and take everything I give you"

Will go down on you like a man starved

The only time he will ever allow himself to get his face all messy

Of course he would make you clean your fluids off his face

Praise and worship him

He is your God, and as such you should be willing to worship him

Tell him how amazing he is. How good you feel because of him

He would also appreciate it if you would let him step on you. Especially with his heels on.

But he realises that its maybe a little intense for your first time together

He will be attempting to negotiate that particular kink into your sex lives

Vil promises you would enjoy it!

When all is said and done Vil is the aftercare K I N G

He will pamper you as if you were a king

Runs you a bath

Gives you a nice little massage

Tells you how great you were, that you did wonderful. Telling you how thankful he is for you

All the after coitus snuggles will be yours

Malleus is very formal with how he propositions you

In fact he does a dance, much like a bird of paradise would.

He worked for years on perfecting his courting dance

After all only one person would ever see it and that one person would be his forever

Its a nice display! But definitely a little weird

Especially as a form of like, foreplay

Can you tell this is the first time this man has ever thought about sex? He absolutely has no experience

Because of how formal Malleus is and his lack of sexual experience he is extremely stiff when it comes to actually doing the deed

Kinda just hopes you'll take the lead and tell him what you want from him, he's never done this before so he doesn't want to mess it up.

Knows vaguely what to do based off what Lilia told him, but really has no idea how to execute it in a way that is pleasurable to you

Guide him to where exactly you want him. Tell him what you want him to do

He will oblige

Malleus finds himself more inclined to be a top.

He likes giving you pleasure more than sitting back and receiving

Thats not to say he would complain if you were to reciprocate his actions~ far from it!

Malleus loves giving you oral

The thought of tasting the person whom he's claimed as his just sets something off inside him

He has a long ass tongue and great control of said tongue. Like he could tie all sorts of complicated knots in a cherry stem kind of control

Will use that to his full advantage to lick and suck at your most sensitive of places, all to coax you into a stunning orgasm.

Seriously, you'll be stunned. You'll definitely be seeing white.

As mentioned previously, Malleus wants to top, so he'd like it very much if you let him have penetrative sex with you

Not terribly crazy with the positions he puts you in, but know he will be watching you for your reactions

So he can adjust what he's doing to make things even better for you

Now I'm certain I don't need to inform you of this, but Malleus is a tall man. Which means he is quite well endowed.

And because he's not human, his penis is a little unconventional.

By that I mean he doesn't have any external balls, or pubes. Just some dark scale patterns that are dark near the base and fade to a lighter colour when they get close to the tip

His penis is also textured because of this

So just know that there is a very good chance you will have a slight belly bulge from him being inside you

It turns him on to such a degree that can't be explained in any words other than F e r a l

He just loses all decorum and goes nuts on you

Also has a breeding kink that goes hand in hand with the belly bulge!

Does it matter if you can't actually bare his young? Nope! Malleus will still act like you can and fill you up

You will be a twinkie by the end if the night my friend

Covers you in hickies, they are seriously everywhere.

Leaves bruises on your thighs and hips from how tightly he was holding them during the devil's tango~

This man did not know he had a marking kink but wow does he definitely have one of those now

On another note, the fact that the more you two fuck, the hotter Malleus gets is interesting

No seriously. Because he's able to breathe fire, and you know, is a dragon

His skin heats up during sex

Which could be quite pleasurable~

Malleus also let's a puff of slightly green smoke out of his mouth when he cums. Its just a quirk of his~

Oof smut is always a struggle to write for me. I hope you can't tell, and that you all enjoyed the post~

If you liked this post and want to see more from me feel free to send in a request or take a look at the previous wishes. See you soon~

Sincerely, Jupiter

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