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luveline · 11 months

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spoilers for spider-man: across the spider-verse below

please don’t read any further if you are avoiding spoilers

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel hops dimensions expecting a new family, and a new life. he’s not expecting you —featuring a tired miguel and his confused but adoring wife. or, miguel gets the comfort he so desperately needs. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. gun mention/no graphic scenes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel seems different when he comes home that night. You've loved him for years, you know his face. He looks slightly younger and older at the same time, impossibly so. He looks like he has bad news and he doesn't want to tell you. Something harrowing. How else can you explain his expression?

You stand up from the dinner table. "Hey," you say gently. "Is there something wrong?"

He isn't convincing when he answers, "What? Uh, no. Nothing's wrong."

"Something looks wrong."

You step in front of him and lift your chin. Usually, he'd look down with a smirk, or at the very least a smile, but he seems weary. You lift your hand to his cheek, pinching it between your fingers without malice.

"Smile, handsome. You have a lovely smile."

He smiles. His lips part just slightly. "You… you really love me. You're happy."

"We're happy," you correct. "Me, you, and Gabs forever, right?"

"Gabs?" he asks.

"Don't start with me. Gabriella's a mouthful. A beautiful mouthful," you concede. "I still think we should've named her Sofia. And yeah, Miguel. I love you. Really really. Don't forget it."

You make him sit at the kitchen table. It's a selfish manoeuvre; you want him to sit so you can actually reach his hair. Your husband is the tallest man you've ever met.

"Did you get a haircut?" you ask, running your fingers through his hair slowly. He shivers at your touch, and tilts his head back in question. "You did. That's such a betrayal, my love. I've been cutting your hair for going on six years now, I'm suddenly not good enough?"

"You're good enough," he says. He really sounds so strange.

"I'm joking. Miguel, if there's something wrong, you really need to tell me. I can make it better. Well, I can try." You bite your lip, unnerved by his quiet, solemn air.

"Am I being weird?" he asks.

"No," you say, worried he thinks you're judging him. You never would. (He's being really weird.) "Of course not, you're just quiet tonight, that's all. Did you have a bad day at work?"

"I– I got mugged. On the way home from work. I forgot the– the milk."

"You what?" you ask, eyes widening in shock. Miguel's kind of gigantic. You've always said that you pity the fool who tries it, but apparently he's less hardy than you thought. A mugging explains his weird behaviour these last five minutes, at least. "What happened? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

You take his face into both hands. He has dark circles under his eyes and a scratch along his jaw, but he seems unhurt. You suppose being attacked would age you instantaneously too.

"Miguel, are you in shock? Should I take you to the hospital?"

"I'm okay. I just feel strange."

"Are you sure?” He nods hurriedly. You purse your lips. “I'll make you something warm to drink, that'll help. As long as you're not hurt, right? Did he take your wallet? We'll have to cancel your credit card."

Miguel catches your shirt before you can go too far.

"Hm?" you hum in question.

Miguel visibly deliberates. His eyebrows lift ever so slightly. "Could I hug you?"

The hurting and worry you have for him intensify before falling on the back-burner. You can shove your own feelings aside easily if he needs comforting.

"I don't think you have to ask me," you say, offering your arms.

Miguel is usually a short but meaningful hugger. You've hugged so many times and in what feels like every place on earth, and he's such a tall man that even if he doesn't mean for them to be, his arms are all encompassing.

It surprises you that this hug is different. He's tentative. When his hand falls to the small of your back it slots into place, and you can feel his relief like a palpable thing.

"You’re okay," you say, your lips at his crown, your legs between his.

He's keeping space between you, and you don't like it. You press yourself as close to him as possible, your arms behind his shoulders, cupping the back of his head. Soft hair tickles your palm.

"Was it scary?"

"Was what scary?" he asks. You don't mention his little sniff. He's smelling your hair.

"Being mugged? Did he have a gun?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Oh, I see. There's no shame in being scared, you know that?"

"I'm not scared. I wasn't scared when it happened. I just wanted to come home to you."

You frown. His admission is like a barb in your chest, aimed true for your heart. "I'm so glad you did," you confess against his forehead, a murmur of sound. "So, so glad. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You kiss his head three times in a row. The last kiss lingers, his arms slackening around you.

You pull away, not wanting to smother him. Whoever's watching knows he's had enough of you these last few years.

"Where–" Miguel clears his throat. "Where's Gabriella?"

"She's in her room. Call her."

You're hoping time with her will bring him back into focus. He's clearly more affected by this than he's willing to say. You don't know how you feel about it. Terrified, because you could've lost him. Euphoric that you didn't. You'd had this funny feeling all day long, and it's weird, you’d felt that something bad happened, a moment at the sink with Gabriella singing in her room, the clock ticking on the wall. Miguel late, but promising to bring the groceries you needed home with him before dinner.

"Gabriella?" he calls up the stairs. You watch from the stove.

You'll grab the pan and make him some hot cocoa. Just as soon as he stops looking scared.

"Daddy?" Gabriella asks back. She's audibly ecstatic, and her footsteps are a stampede from her bedroom. You can see her from the kitchen when she gets to the bottom of the stairs. "Dad, pick me up!"

"Oh, right," Miguel says, leaning down to hold her.

He pulls her with all the grace of an elephant to his chest, and she nearly chins him.

"Woah, careful."

"Dad, you're super late. Mom said I can yell at you for being late."

"You can yell at me, if you want to." He gives her a curious look. "I'm sorry for taking so long."

Gabriella tilts her head to the side, dark hair shifting. She's a gorgeous little girl and her dad can't withstand it, melting as you hoped he would, the taut string of his back finally cut in two.

"I don't want to yell at you," she whispers.

"Good, because I don't want you to yell," he whispers back.

Gabriella leans back in his arms and giggles thickly. He almost drops her, and has to readjust his hold on her back.

"I'm so happy you're home!" she cheers, bringing her little hands up together from her chest and thrusting them out like fireworks. "You work too much! I thought doctors was s'posed to make everyone better and go home."

"I'm not that kind of doctor," he says.

You turn from where you've brought cocoa powder and milk to an emulsified simmer on the stovetop and beam at him. It's your favourite thing in the whole world when she mixes it up. Ever since she found his ID card with DR. written clear as day before his name, she's been under the impression that he works at the general hospital. Alchemex might break medical thresholds, but it is far from a hospital.

"Are you having hot cocoa with your dad?" you ask Gabriella.

She gasp in excitement and lists toward you. Miguel almost drops her for a second time. "Yes, oh my gosh!"

"Well, come and sit. What mug?"

Gabriella can't decide on what mug she wants; there's the orange cat with too many whiskers, there's the black one with bright white stars. After some deliberation, she decides on her and Miguel's matching daddy-daughter mugs.

"You're having some too, right?" he asks you.

"Don't I always?" you ask. "Though I do want to protest the mugs. Where's my mug? Don't I deserve number one mom?" You kiss the top of Gabriella's head where she languishes in Miguel's lap, before placing their hot cocoa down far from her arm's reach. "It's hot."

Miguel doesn't touch his. You blow cold air at Gabriella's and dip your fingertip into it periodically, content to spend some time with them both in amicable quiet. Gabriella just loves him to pieces, and she leans back in his arms with her eyes closed, basking in his closeness.

She squints at you with one eye. "Dad?"

Miguel doesn't answer. You nudge his foot.

"What?" he asks.

"You're not doing the thing."

"The thing?"

You frown.

"Yeah, dad." She huffs and curls his arm manually across her front. "Please, I want the kisses."

He looks at you, completely lost. You're feeling similarly confused. "She wants you to kiss her hair," you say, wondering if perhaps he's suffering from stress related amnesia.

He leans down carefully and kisses her hair. It's not the usual enthusiastic kiss, and he doesn't bother blowing in her ear after.

Gabriella glares at him. "My ear!"

"Blow in her ear," you mouth.

He blows gently into her ear. She shivers, shudders, and laughs up a storm.

When the cocoa's been drunk and the mugs washed and put away, Gabriella races upstairs, promising to return with a storybook and the drawing she made earlier in the day once she’s changed into her pyjamas. Miguel looks less lost than he had. In fact, he looks normal. The warm drink has put colour in his cheeks, and his daughter's cuddles have done their job. He's relaxed. He's forgotten the fear of the mugging, you're almost sure of it.

You waver beside him. "Can I sit with you, or am I too heavy?"

"Why would you be too heavy?" he asks.

"You always say I'm too heavy," you say, sitting down on his thighs. They feel solid, a little different from usual. Miguel works out, but this is strange. He must be more tense than you thought. "It's your worst joke."

"I'm sorry. I won't say it if it upsets you," he says, his voice rough and low.

"Who said anything about that?" He's never called you heavy to be cruel.

"Sorry," he apologises again. "I think all the excitement today messed me up."

You spread your fingers wide across his chest, his heart beating a surface below. "It's okay. You don't have to react any one way…" You rub the tip of your nose against his jaw lightly. "I'm so glad you're okay. I had this weird feeling like something bad happened to you, you know?"

Miguel laughs and coughs at the same time. It borders on being distressed. He's really worrying you. "You did?" he asks.

"Mm-hm. But you're okay." You work hard to sound sure.

His hand slides between your legs, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your upper thigh, though it doesn't stay there. He pulls away, looking flustered. "Sorry."

"For what?" You blink.

"I don't know."

You laugh and press a kiss to the column of his throat, your nose squished against him. "I was thinking we'd watch that new movie tonight, with Harry Woodson, but it has guns and stuff. Would that still be okay?"

He puts his hand behind your ear and guides your head back to look you in the eye. It's a familiar touch. He looks like himself again, though you truly are offended by his haircut. Maybe something happened at work and fried it off.

"You're really something special," he says quietly.

"How so?"

His face softens with your flirting tone. "You're kind. You're so kind. I've never met someone like you."

"What are you talking about?" you mumble. It's your turn to feel flustered, jellified by the earnestness lining his features.

"You're sweet, and soft, and so pretty," he says, matching your tone. He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

You understand the feeling. Sometimes you look at him and can't believe he's your love.

"Soft," you repeat. "Are you trying to say something?"

"Like that. That joke. You don't even sound mad."

"You don't have to be so amazed. I've been like this since we met, haven't I? I'm hardly ever angry with you." You follow down from his eye to his jaw with your knuckle, tracing a tear he hasn't shed. He's spun you into thoughtfulness, and more than that —reverential fondness for him aches in the very centre of your stomach.

"I must have some good luck," he says.

His near death experience has inspired a wave of sappiness.

You lean in until your forehead touches his, giving him time to close his eyes or lean away if he wants to.

"I love you," you say simply. "You're not lucky, you're amazing, and all this good you see in me? I see it in you, O'Hara." You huff a laugh, breath fanning over his top lip as you steal a wonky kiss. You pull back. "You're sure–"

Miguel kisses you. His hand flies to the back of your neck and his lips are eager, his head tilted to one side to accommodate your nose. He deepens the kiss and it's a mess, really, nothing like his usual kisses, no practised ease, nor confident touches. His fingertips push at the hairs lining the nape of your neck as though he's not sure what to do with his hand. It's like kissing him for the very first time.

It's not a bad kiss.

You kiss back slowly. You're the steadying constant to his hotheadedness, in kissing and in everything else, pulling time into an endless stretch of his mouth under yours, his body heat seeping into your skin.

The sharp point of a tooth catches your bottom lip. You gasp into his mouth and flinch away from him.

"Um, ouch? What was that, handsome, did you get your teeth filed to spikes?" you ask, probing your lip, a flood of giggles slipping between your fingers.

He looks at you like you've lit the sky one star at a time.

"Sorry," he says. "I'll be more careful, I swear."

"Sure," you laugh. "Well, you'll have to be more careful later. You promised Gabriella you'd read her the Wishing Tree, and she's expecting a performance. Voices included."

He adjusts you in his lap with more strength than you knew he had. "Will you help?"

You'll always help him. He doesn't even need to ask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

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machine-saint · 8 months

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the op of that "you should restart your computer every few days" post blocked me so i'm going to perform the full hater move of writing my own post to explain why he's wrong

why should you listen to me: took operating system design and a "how to go from transistors to a pipelined CPU" class in college, i have several servers (one physical, four virtual) that i maintain, i use nixos which is the linux distribution for people who are even bigger fucking nerds about computers than the typical linux user. i also ran this past the other people i know that are similarly tech competent and they also agreed OP is wrong (haven't run this post by them but nothing i say here is controversial).

anyway the tl;dr here is:

you don't need to shut down or restart your computer unless something is wrong or you need to install updates

i think this misconception that restarting is necessary comes from the fact that restarting often fixes problems, and so people think that the problems are because of the not restarting. this is, generally, not true. in most cases there's some specific program (or part of the operating system) that's gotten into a bad state, and restarting that one program would fix it. but restarting is easier since you don't have to identify specifically what's gone wrong. the most common problem i can think of that wouldn't fall under this category is your graphics card drivers fucking up; that's not something you can easily reinitialize without restarting the entire OS.

this isn't saying that restarting is a bad step; if you don't want to bother trying to figure out the problem, it's not a bad first go. personally, if something goes wrong i like to try to solve it without a restart, but i also know way, way more about computers than most people.

as more evidence to point to this, i would point out that servers are typically not restarted unless there's a specific need. this is not because they run special operating systems or have special parts; people can and do run servers using commodity consumer hardware, and while linux is much more common in the server world, it doesn't have any special features to make it more capable of long operation. my server with the longest uptime is 9 months, and i'd have one with even more uptime than that if i hadn't fucked it up so bad two months ago i had to restore from a full disk backup. the laptop i'm typing this on has about a month of uptime (including time spent in sleep mode). i've had servers with uptimes measuring in years.

there's also a lot of people that think that the parts being at an elevated temperature just from running is harmful. this is also, in general, not true. i'd be worried about running it at 100% full blast CPU/GPU for months on end, but nobody reading this post is doing that.

the other reason i see a lot is energy use. the typical energy use of a computer not doing anything is like... 20-30 watts. this is about two or three lightbulbs worth. that's not nothing, but it's not a lot to be concerned over. in terms of monetary cost, that's maybe $10 on your power bill. if it's in sleep mode it's even less, and if it's in full-blown hibernation mode it's literally zero.

there are also people in the replies to that post giving reasons. all of them are false.

temporary files generally don't use enough disk space to be worth worrying about

programs that leak memory return it all to the OS when they're closed, so it's enough to just close the program itself. and the OS generally doesn't leak memory.

'clearing your RAM' is not a thing you need to do. neither is resetting your registry values.

your computer can absolutely use disk space from deleted files without a restart. i've taken a server that was almost completely full, deleted a bunch of unnecessary files, and it continued fine without a restart.

#i just had to get this out of my mind

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buckys-wintersoldier · 3 months

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Treated like a queen | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> CollegeStudent!(Ex-)Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x CollegeStudent!(Ex-)Girlfriend!Reader ; College Student!BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x CollegeStudent!BestFriend!Female!Reader

Summary -> Steve cheated on you, and even when he tries to apologise, you can’t look at him the same way after knowing he just fucked someone else. Luckily your best friend is always there and knows how to treat his doll right.

Wordcount -> 3k.

Warnings -> (T) cheating, break down, crying, angst, but also a lot of fluff, college au

A/N -> The oneshot is dedicated to @imtryingbuck because you’re the most wonderful best friend I can wish for. You’re for me like Bucky is such the perfect best friend for reader. And I know you know that I appreciate you and all but I wanna let you know that you’re my bestest best friend. And I love you so much, thank you for the title hehe.😂❤️ Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

There he is, your boyfriend of five years. He stands in front of you, trying to explain himself, but there are no ways to do so. The two of you moved together a while ago; it’s just a room in the residential school, but being so close to each other was something you two really wanted, and there you are now. Steve and you are standing in the room, and he plays with his fingers in front of him.

“I’m sorry. It was a mistake,” he whispers, his eyes closed while he runs his fingers nervously through his hair.

“A mistake that happens how many times? Three or four times?” you ask and raise your eyebrow.

Steve opens his eyes; he wants to take a step closer, but you lift your hands and walk away from him. He looks down, swallowing hard, before he clears his throat and looks at you.

“We- We had sex seven times,” he mumbles quietly.

You gasp when those words leave his lips. You thought he cheated once, but knowing that he did it seven times needs a moment for you to realize that it really wasn’t a mistake he made. You turn your head away from him; you want to scream, but you feel like you can’t. It would stick in your throat, and you wouldn’t be able to let go of your feelings, and you don’t want to, not in front of him. Then there is the feeling of just turning around and running away, or at least to cry, but everything feels so surreal, and at the same time, you feel reality hitting you. Your boyfriend cheated on you, and it wasn’t a mistake; it was his own decision to have sex with someone. And there is no excuse why he could have cheated on you.

“What did I do wrong that you cheated?”

“N-Nothing. Baby, listen-“

You interrupt him before he can say another word, and you lift your hand, showing him to stop talking. And he does; he always takes care that he doesn’t overstep your boundaries.

You don’t want him to call you baby, babe, or whatever pet name he gave you. How often did he call her babe or baby? Every time they were together and kissed, or only when they fucked? Maybe he never called her that, but he does. Steve is someone who praises his partner a lot and calls them by their nicknames or the pet names he gives them. Was he just there to fuck him, or does he love her?

“Steve, please stop calling me that. I’m not yours anymore.”

Your voice is so cold that you shiver slightly at your own harshness. You’re more the soft one, the emotional person. Steve is still looking at you; he wants to touch you, pull you close to him, and tell you that he loves you, but he knows you’re done with him. He messed up because he didn’t get his dick under control.

“Y/N- listen. I’m sorry. I’m- It’s not your fault. I- We-,” he sighs. A single tear makes its way down his cheek; his eyes are red, and the next tears are just a moment before they roll down his cheeks as well. “We- It was during the party, and then we used it to get rid of every frustration or too much stress because of the exam.”

Steve sighs when you laugh darkly. Then you shake your head and face him. Your expression is cold in a way you never thought you would look at him. There is no love, but also no anger; your expression doesn’t show any kind of emotion. You as well as Steve didn’t know that you would ever be that cold to the love of your life, the boy with whom you have been together for five years, and he threw it away by cheating on you.

“Would you have done it one time, maybe I would have accepted it one day. Maybe we could have fixed our relationship, but- Steve. I can’t look at you the same way I did. Your eyes were the things I always thought to see the truth in; your embrace was my home, but how can I ever see in those eyes of yours when all those promises were just lies? When all those words had no meaning?” you ask.

“They were no lies, and I meant what I said. I love you, y/n,” he mumbles.

Those words, they were meant all for you. ‘I love you'; they made you his; they made you feel special around him, and now he says it. And you’re standing there, trying not to give in, and just kissing him or hugging him to feel his warm body pressing against yours.

“You love me, and you will talk to me. Those were things you said, but you didn’t talk to me when you were frustrated or stressed. You cheated on me when you loved me; why did you cheat on me? I’m your number one. You would never cheat on me, but you did. I felt special around you, but not anymore; you did the things we did with her,” you tell him with a sad smile. You sigh softly. "Steve, those things- I’m sorry, but I will leave now. I hope you will be happier with her. I hope she is worth it that you destroyed what we had. But I’m not going to be with someone who doesn’t want me and has cheated on me.”

You turn around to leave the room, your shared room, and your home. But since you can’t look at him without knowing he cheated on you, it doesn’t feel like home anymore. And Steve stays quiet when you open the door. When you step out of the room and close the door behind you, you’re not leaving your room behind you; you also leave the boy you love behind you, and even when it breaks you, you know that he doesn’t want you; otherwise, he wouldn’t have cheated on you. You look for your phone to call Bucky. He is your best friend and is always there when you need him. So it doesn’t take long for him to pick it up.

“Hey, babydoll. Thought you’re with Steve,” he says. You can hear his happiness when you call him.

“I was. But- I. Bucky, can I come to you?” you ask.

Your voice is shaking, and the gasp that leaves Bucky’s lips tells you that his mood immediately changes when he hears your broken voice.

“Of course. Do you need anything? Chocolate or your favorite food? Some drinks?”

“Just you and a hug.”

“Of course, do you want me to pick you up?” Bucky sounds worried, but his voice is so soft that you calm down when you just talk to him.

“No, I’m almost there,” you mumble and hang up.

You suddenly feel so weak; everything you had with Steve isn’t there anymore. Tears form in your eyes, and you think about everything you had with Steve, the love you shared, the memories, and now there is nothing left of that love, only the memories, which are currently just him cheating on you.

After a moment, you reach Bucky’s room, knocking at his door, and he immediately opens it. The usual smile that appears across his face whenever he sees you isn’t as big as usual. His steel blue eyes aren’t as bright as you’re used to seeing them; he looks worried when he sees your red eyes and the tears streaming down your cheeks. Bucky wants to say something but stops himself when you just open your arms and wait for him to pull you close against him. And he does; he walks a step closer and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Your head is resting against his chest while he places his head on top of yours.

“I’ve got you, my pretty girl,” he mumbles, pulling you with him into his room before he closes the door with his feet.

When the door is shut, you break down in Bucky’s arms. Every feeling you tried to push away or didn’t want to cheat in front of Steve appears, and you're crying even more. Bucky holds you close, his hands moving up and down your back. You sob loudly, the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you feel like you can't breathe anymore. Your vision is blurry because of your tears, and you grip Bucky’s shirt to hold yourself. You’re a weck, which is just standing because of the tight grip of Bucky’s arms around your body. Everything you had with the love of your life, everything he promised, everything he said, it’s almost visible to you, and you can’t bring yourself to calm down. Your feelings are overwhelming, and you just want to be loved by someone who means what he said, someone who holds you like Bucky does right now.

“Bucky- he- Steve he cheated on me. Am I not enough for him? Why did he cheat on me?” you ask, still crying and pressing yourself more against Bucky.

“It’s not your fault, doll. He just doesn’t know what he lost when he let you go. You deserve someone who takes care of you and treats you the way you deserve to be treated, like a queen. Someone who knows that you’re worth so much more,” Bucky says, kissing your forehead, and he thinks about him when he says that he knows how to treat you right.

The two of you stand there for a while until your sobbing is quieter and you slowly calm down in Bucky’s embrace. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him carry you to the couch, where he has already placed your favorite food and drinks. You sometimes wonder why he always has everything you like there, but he also loves that kind of food, and he always has everything there for his doll. When you see the food, you smile, and Bucky places you between them on the couch.

“That’s what I want to see, that wonderful smile, doll,” he smirks.

You blush, and Bucky captures your cheeks to make you look at him. He wipes the tears with his thumbs away, then he leans closer to kiss your nose.

“I love you so much, my pretty doll,” he mumbles before he lets go of you and lets himself fall down next to you on the couch.

“Bucky!!!! I love you too, but don’t sit on the food!” you say, raising your eyebrow.

Bucky laughs, wraps his arm around your waist, and pulls you against him. You place your head on his chest, then you look for some food you want to eat first. Meanwhile, Bucky looks for something next to him, giving it to you, and your smile grows when you see his hoodie. You take it on and giggle. He loves seeing you happy and that smile when your eyes brighten or when you giggle. Bucky, luckily, knows exactly how to make you happy and feel comfortable.

It’s been a few weeks since you broke up with Steve, and it wasn’t easy for you to move on without him being around you every day. And especially when you had classes with him, it was even harder. But you get used to it, and Bucky makes sure he is always by your side to comfort you, and he just loves to spend his time with you.

“Bucky, you can meet your friends if you want to. I-I’m fine,” you say, sitting on his couch and looking at him.

“I prefer to spend time with my precious doll.”

You blush and hide yourself behind a pillow. The two of you are closer than ever, and since you’re living with Bucky in his room, you’re really happy after the situation where Steve cheated on you. Even when you sometimes miss him, Bucky makes sure you laugh just a moment later because he does something funny or just tells you a joke, even when it is not funny. But you laugh because he tells you bad jokes and acts like it was the most hilarious thing.

Bucky gets on his knees in front of you, his arms resting on your thighs, and he smiles. His blue eyes are shining in a way you haven’t seen them before. You could look into them all the time; the light blue, which matches the slight gray, looks like the most beautiful ocean. And whenever he looks at you and you get lost in the beauty of his eyes, you can’t get yourself to look away. They are mysterious and beautiful, and it's kind of scary when you realize that you forget everything around you when you just look at them.

“Doll, you’re staring,” he says, squeezing your thighs a bit.

“Sorry- I just- Have you ever seen in your eyes?” you blush when you ask him that question.

Of course, he sees his eyes every time he looks into the mirror, but he probably doesn’t get lost in them like you do.

“Do you want to move in here completely?”

The way his voice sounds makes it clear he really means what he asks. And you thought about moving into his room already, and you talked about it, but now it’s on you to decide if you’re ready to say yes or if you want to have most of your things still in your old room, the one where Steve is still living.

When you went to Bucky the day you broke up with Steve, Bucky told Steve to put a few things into a bag and place them in front of the door so he could pick them up later. And Steve did as he was told; he put things that really meant something to you and some clothes into a bag and placed them in front of the door. And Bucky picked it up later that day and made sure he didn't have to see Steve; otherwise, he would have punched him in the face for being such a dick.

“Do you really don’t mind? I mean, I should talk to Steve first.”

You capture Bucky’s cheeks with your hands. He sticks his tongue out and inches close to try to lick your nose, but you push him softly away so he can’t lick at you.

“Buckyyyyy,” you giggle.

“What’s up, doll?”

You roll your eyes; he can act like he didn’t try to lick your nose and just pretends you’re asking for him to answer, so you’re going to tell him something then. Bucky chuckles before he clears his throat to speak in a deeper voice.

“I don’t mind you moving in with me. I’m a robot,” he says, and you burst out laughing.

“Oke I’m gonna make myself ready, and then I will go to Steve and talk to him.”

Bucky nods, letting himself fall to sit in front of you so you can stand up and go to make yourself ready. He looks at you and sees the way his hoodie fits perfectly as a dress for you, but you just prefer his clothes. Before you walk into the bathroom, you turn around and wink at him. He laughs, and while he listens to the shower and the way you dry yourself before you make your hair, his mind goes crazy with thoughts about you and Steve.

What if you want to go back to him? Maybe you prefer Steve, and even when you broke up with him, maybe your love is stronger and you will leave him alone. His mood changes from the happy little puppy into the introverted, sad boy he is whenever you’re not around him.

“Bu- Hey, Bucky. You’re oke?” you ask worriedly when you walk back to the couch where he is sitting.

Bucky's eyes are slightly red, and he sniffles, but he nods his head. Of course, he is fine, right? You’re not his, and when you decide to be back with Steve, who is going to make you happy. You need to be happy, and maybe you’re happier with Steve, even when Bucky hopes you will choose him.

“I will be back in a few minutes,” you tell him, running your fingers through his soft brown hair.

“But maybe you want to stay with Steve,” he mumbles quietly.

You don’t say anything; you just kneel down in front of him and capture his cheeks. You turn his head, so he has to look at you before you lean closer and kiss him softly. Bucky places his hand around your waist and pulls you closer while he moves his lips against yours. When you two pull away and catch your breath, he still looks into your eyes, his cheeks slightly red, and the smile on his lips reaches from one side of his face to the other.

“Call me when you need help with Steve.”

You grab your phone and tap on it before Bucky’s phone rings, and he picks it up, chuckling softly.

“Yes, doll?”

“You said 'call me' when you need help with Steve. And I call you. I would love it when you would come there with me so I don’t have to talk to him about things I don’t want to talk about,” you say and smile when he hangs up and leans closer to kiss you again.

“Of course, my pretty doll,” he says, and he stands up before he picks you up and twirls you around. “Before you need to throw up on me, tell me, please,” he says, and you both need to laugh.

And there he is, your best friend. But he is way more than that. Bucky is your soulmate; he knows things about you that no one knows about you. And when you thought Steve was the love of your life, it was just because you weren't with Bucky together. With your best friend, you feel like you’re complete, you’re loved, and he treats you like a queen, like his queen. And Bucky can finally show you that you deserve so many good things and that he loves you like you’re everything to him.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @sergeantbarnessdoll @lives-in-midgard @rogersbarber @kandis-mom @km-ffluv @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @identity2212 @cjand10 @harleycao @lunaalovesyouu @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @blackhawkfanatic @flstrawberry

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sunkissedchld · 6 months

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the photo with the love seat, pile two is the heart shaped-potions room without an entrance, and so on and so forth.

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don’t be afraid to say if the message resonated or not. it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it’s “bad”.

good luck to you, reader 💘

photos courtesy of @poisonnightmares

WARNING: pile iii has a little 18+ mention, but it's nothing graphic nor is it explained in detail

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Dive Into You" by NCT Dream

"Last Night" by Dani Leigh

"TMT" by Stray Kids

Cards:

The Bachelor, The Rose Ceremony, Nine of Rings (Influencer), The Cocktail Party, Knight of Roses (Frontrunner)

Reading:

Your next romantic partner may like how structured and stable you are as a person. You could be a good leader or have heavy masculine energy; you might even embody the traits of "The Emperor" as a tarot card. They may feel as if you're good at making decisions and as if they can trust you with anything. You may have a way of gaining your next romantic partner's attention very easily - you may have Venusian qualities or placements in your chart. Your own beauty may cause your next romantic partner to feel very stunned; you might even leave them speechless often or make them feel as if they need to "step up their game" when being with you.

I also get the feeling your outlook on love or how you operate when you're in love gives your next romantic partner hope in terms of romance. They may have been apprehensive when approaching relationships beforehand, but being with you makes them think that love can exist or that healthy relationships aren't too far-fetched to ask for. You may be someone who is very into love - maybe you're a daydreamer in that sense or a hopeless romantic, and instead of only dreaming of the type of love you want - you make it happen. This might be something that makes your partner addicted to you because it could feel like an everlasting honeymoon phase or because it makes them open their heart in a way they're not used to.

In short, your next romantic partner may be addicted to you because of the authenticity and passion with which you approach love; you may spark in them an appreciation for romance and healthy relationship expectations.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Let Me Love You" by Mario

"I'm Ready" by Nakala

"Twinkle" by Girls' Generation

Cards:

Queen of Flutes (The Caregiver) [Rx], Seven of Mirrors (For the Wrong Reasons) [Rx], Six of Flutes (Butterflies), Ace of Flutes (First Kiss) [Rx], Four of Mirrors (Reassuring Rose)

Reading:

Those who chose this pile may be a little closed off when it comes to romance and love. You might be the type of person who plays hard to get and "doesn't really want to get into relationships", or you feel very jaded because of past relationships. I'm kind of getting the energy of you being a person in distress when it comes to romance. Your next romantic partner will actually like this energy about you! They'll like "the chase" so to speak. They're the type of person that likes engaging with people who are hurt because they like nurturing and healing others. They will find your wounded energy addicting because it makes it easy for them to be the nurturing person they are.

Obviously being aware, some people do like seeking out vulnerable individuals in order to have dominance over them and to create unsafe and unhealthy situations, but that won't be the case for most of you who choose this pile. This person does not have bad intentions; fulfilling this caregiver/healer role is something they just enjoy doing. Your next romantic partner will like being able to change your point of view and show you that a more innocent, maybe even fairytale-like view of love does exist. They're not trying to show you what it's like being in a relationship for the first time, but they are trying to show you what love and relationships can be like going forward - with or without them. They are all about easing your worries.

Overall, your next romantic partner will find your reluctance to love addicting. They will like the idea of having to work hard to make you open up your heart in order to feel more relief when it comes to dating. They find needing to work for your validation and happiness addicting.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Burn" by Andra Day

"You Can't Win" by Michael Jackson

"Too Loud" by G-Eazy (feat. Nef the Pharaoh)

Cards:

Knight of Roses (The Frontrunner), Two of Mirrors (Two on One) [Rx], The Bachelor, The Villain, Three of Mirrors (Red Flags), Eight of Mirrors (In Your Head)

Reading:

Some of the people who chose this pile might also be attracted to pile one; I feel like it'll be very few of you though. This pile feels like the first one in a different font and context. There's a lot of Mirrors energy, so there's a focus on communication and your way of thinking. Your next romantic partner may be addicted to you because you're a very passionate, go-getter who knows when to get confrontational. You could be someone who is a little detached from their emotions, or who knows how to use them to your advantage. You know how to get whatever it is you want - including your next romantic partner.

I'm kind of getting "bad bitch" energy. Your energy and way of living may naturally draw people to you, and your next partner may be someone who falls under your spell. The addicting part of you is very heavy in this reading - more so than the other piles. Your next romantic partner might even find how mean you are to them addicting. This could be in an 18+ way in that they like degradation or having you be dominant; it could also be this person likes how you're able to be mean to others. Going back to what was said before, you may be the type of person who knows when conflict is needed, and you could have no problem arguing with or even fighting people who you deem "deserve it". They really like your assertiveness!

For the most part, your next romantic partner will like your mean and/or abrasive personality. They'll like the way you stand up for yourself, and they could really enjoy it when you show off your dominance.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Are you That Somebody" by Aaliyah

"Waiting" by Woodz

"Good Girls" by 5 Seconds of Summer

Cards:

King of Roses (The Executive Producer) [Rx], Eight of Rings (Camera Guy), The Moon, Five of Flutes (I Fucked Up) [Rx]

Reading:

Your next romantic partner finds your cautionary attitude addicting. I'm intuitively reminded of the song, "Wait For It" from Hamilton the Musical. You may be the type of person who comes off a little mysterious; you could be the type of person who is always waiting for "the perfect timing" or find yourself holding back because you want to be sure you're doing everything right. You may like playing it safe and following the expectations that others place on you. I'm also reminded of "Good Girls" by Five Seconds of Summer, although this reading isn't gendered in any way! They like that you are predictable and reliable in a sense.

They may also like that you're always paying attention to your surroundings and people around you. You could be an empath or someone who is just great at picking up on other people's emotions and feelings, whether they show it blatantly or not; you could be very in tune with your intuition. They also adore how you're always able to move on from things and never hold grudges against others or towards yourself. I get the sense your next romantic partner might feel like people treat you like a doormat or a pushover, and they like your willingness to (almost) never get upset about that, but it also kind of irritates them. They could like how they feel they almost need to step up for you in a way. It could be that your next partner is very assertive and quick when doing things in their life, but you're the total opposite in that you can be a little passive and slow about what you do in your life; they like this opposite dynamic!

In general, your next romantic partner will like the "opposites attract" type of dynamic you two will have. They like that you're a little more apprehensive about the choices you make, and they adore your willingness to assume the best of people.

#tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #tarotblr #sunkissedchld

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navybrat817 · 8 months

Note

Navy! Where is my man? 😭

https://www.tumblr.com/navybrat817/726032643125379072?source=share

He's in bed, nonnie. 😂❤️

Heaven on Earth

Pairing: Ranch Hand!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has work to do, but doesn't want either of you to get out of bed just yet.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, slight feels (it's me), implied smut, ranch hand!Bucky (he’s a warning, okay?) and he's in love.

A/N: Buckaroo loves Sunbeam, okay? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own! Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics . Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One of Bucky's favorite things about your home is the smell. It was in the heavenly scent of your cooking that filled the kitchen, the meals you poured your heart into to make sure he was well-fed. It was also in the fresh flowers you put on the table, the colors as vibrant and bright as your smile. Though nothing beat the distinct and wonderful smell of you.

His heart always beat a little faster when he nosed the column of your neck and caught a whiff of your sweet perfume. The way your scent lingered in the air when he had his fill of you nearly drove him out of his mind. He sometimes found himself inhaling your soap in the shower just for another reminder of you, even though you were usually only a few feet away. Needing you close was as natural to him as breathing.

So when you sat up early one morning before him and tried to slip out of bed, his hand shot out to stop you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

His voice came out lower and a bit more dangerous than he intended, a tone typically reserved for when you acted like a brat. It was no secret that he loved that side of you. He adored every layer of yourself you showed him, but you hadn't done a thing to earn the slight snarl from him. Which was why he couldn't help but sheepishly smile when you attempted to level him with an unimpressed stare, easily visible since he turned the nightstand lamp on.

"I was going to make you coffee and some breakfast. Thought you could use it before you started work," you said, your voice still rough from sleep and still beautiful as you jabbed a finger against his chest. "But if you're going to act ungrateful, I'll sleep in and you can take that favorite mug of yours and shove it right up your-"

"Easy, Sunbeam," he chuckled, brushing his lips against your forehead as an apology. "Not complaining and I didn't mean to sound ungrateful."

"Then why did you use that tone with me?" you asked, narrowing your eyes as you pulled away. "You wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

He thought about it and nodded. "Guess you could say that. Only because you tried to get out of bed before me and you know I don't like waking up alone."

For reasons still unknown to him, you wanted him. You wanted to make a life with him. And since the first time he had you in his bed, he found that he couldn't sleep as easily unless you were there. The bed didn't feel as warm when he was alone. It was too big with just him in it. You fit right there beside him.

Your gaze softened as you laid back down and opened your arms for him to cuddle. He took the invitation without question, resting his head on your chest. He closed his eyes as he listened to the sound of your heart, the smell of your soap drifting to his nostrils. If he stayed too long he'd fall behind on his chores, but he wasn't ready to leave your embrace quite yet.

How can I go out and face the world when my world is right here?

"Can I tell you something?" you asked, carding your fingers through his hair as he moaned.

"Tell me," he whispered, enthralled by your touch.

"I don't like waking up alone either," you whispered back.

Bucky hummed sympathetically. With his work, he was usually up and out of bed before you. He hated disturbing your slumber, wanting you to get as much rest as possible. He always placed a kiss on your forehead and whispered how much he loved you before he went to it. You were the one who made the hard work worth it when some of the days felt too long.

"Maybe we should get out of bed at the same time then."

"Or not get out of bed at all," you teased.

Tilting his head up to look up at you, his stomach flipped when he caught your soft smile. It was enough to make his heart swell, like he was watching his own personal sunrise. He quickly grew accustomed to the warm glow in his chest whenever you were around. Did you have any idea how easy it was for him to fall head over heels in love with you?

"What's that look for?"

"No reason. Just love you," he said, his voice thick as he brought a hand to your cheek, which you instantly leaned into. "I know I say that a lot, but I don't want you to forget it."

While Bucky would never be able to give you a mansion or gold, he had the heart of a rich man. He could provide a loving home built with trust and care. His calloused hands would forever trace and hold you with love, protection, and care.

I'm the richest man alive because I have you.

"I love you, too, Buckaroo. I won't forget," you promised, urging him to sit up before your mouth met his, uncaring of morning breath or anything else. "Now, may I please go make your coffee and some breakfast? It's getting late and I won't be to blame for you falling behind."

"Hey, you're the one who opened your arms for me to cuddle again and suggested that we don't get out of bed," he pointed out, smirking when he trailed his fingers down your torso. "But you have a hearty breakfast for me right here that you don't have to cook. Just spread those legs and I can eat just fine. Let me get my slice of heaven before I get to work. Don't I deserve that?"

"It's not a hearty breakfast," you smiled, biting your lip when his hand slipped under the blanket. He wasn't playing fair, but if it kept you beside him a bit longer, he'd play dirty. "And it isn't heaven."

"Yeah, it is. Tastes like heaven. Feels like it. Hell, it even smells like it," he husked, feeling you shiver when he brought his mouth to your neck. "Made for me to worship, like every single inch of you."

"Better eat up then and don't you dare edge me," you said, tilting your head as he skimmed his teeth along your pulse. "Or I'll burn your eggs. So help me."

"I'll make it good for you," he promised, diving under the blankets as you laughed. "Oh, darlin', how can you ever deny that you hold the key to my personal heaven and sunrise?"

"Maybe because I think heaven is between your legs," you said, parting your thighs to make room for his massive shoulders, his nose brushing along your slit through your panties. The whimper you let out made him smirk. "It's also in your smile and the way you love me."

Bucky poked his head out from between the comforter to gaze at you. "I guess we can consider this heaven on earth then. Now let me eat before I get to work."

Heaven is where you are, Sunbeam. And I can't wait to make you my wife.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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sunkissedchldrecon · 9 months

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the photo with the love seat, pile two is the heart shaped-potions room without an entrance, and so on and so forth.

WARNING: pile iii has a little 18+ mention, but it's nothing graphic nor is it explained in detail

good luck to you, reader 💘

photos courtesy of @poisonnightmares

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Dive Into You" by NCT Dream

"Last Night" by Dani Leigh

"TMT" by Stray Kids

Cards:

The Bachelor, The Rose Ceremony, Nine of Rings (Influencer), The Cocktail Party, Knight of Roses (Frontrunner)

Reading:

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Let Me Love You" by Mario

"I'm Ready" by Nakala

"Twinkle" by Girls' Generation

Cards:

Queen of Flutes (The Caregiver) [Rx], Seven of Mirrors (For the Wrong Reasons) [Rx], Six of Flutes (Butterflies), Ace of Flutes (First Kiss) [Rx], Four of Mirrors (Reassuring Rose)

Reading:

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Burn" by Andra Day

"You Can't Win" by Michael Jackson

"Too Loud" by G-Eazy (feat. Nef the Pharaoh)

Cards:

Knight of Roses (The Frontrunner), Two of Mirrors (Two on One) [Rx], The Bachelor, The Villain, Three of Mirrors (Red Flags), Eight of Mirrors (In Your Head)

Reading:

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Are you That Somebody" by Aaliyah

"Waiting" by Woodz

"Good Girls" by 5 Seconds of Summer

Cards:

King of Roses (The Executive Producer) [Rx], Eight of Rings (Camera Guy), The Moon, Five of Flutes (I Fucked Up) [Rx]

Reading:

#tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #Spotify #tarotblr

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eetherealgoddess · 2 months

Note

Hey, I just had a really good idea for u to write. A yandere bonten and a singer/ famous reader. I really love your writing style, and I get sooo excited when I see u post something 🫶🤭

Thank youu!! I get excited for good requests :)

ꨄMelodic Ruinꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Famous Singer Au

❦You’re an artist who caught Bonten’s attention❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

(Mostly Mikey but you’ll see what I mean)

❣︎I know in real life the manager doesn’t “own” the singer, but in this story, the reader will have signed all of their artistic rights to the manager so that the plot will make sense❣︎

Not fully proofread

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Melodic Ruin

Claps could be heard echoing throughout the concert hall as you stood on the surface with a sweet smile, thanking the audience before walking off the stage, the lights shutting off behind you as the crowd began to make their leave. The long dress you wore hugging your figure as the train of the fabric followed behind. You had just completed the last performance for your concert, your hands rubbing along your sides as you released a breath of relief. Of course you don’t get as much anxiety as you did when you first started singing in front of thousands of people, you just really cared about your craft. A perfectionist you could say. This particular performance was important as well considering the extra onlookers your manager warned you about, you having noticed a few of the “important” people in the VIP seats when you were on the stage.

You are ranked as a famous singer in your country, not having been worldwide just yet besides the few videos of you singing at home or in the studio that went viral, as well as your first album that was released recently. You’re a new industry baby, but you’re still trying to keep your own personality in your work without getting controlled by any record deal which is why you’re an independent artist. You take pride in your art, creative by heart and ambitious by nature. It took you quite a few years of releasing singles and singing social media videos to finally get noticed for your talent. You’re proud of yourself which is something that doesn’t happen often enough. You’re not exactly at the top yet but you’re not mad with where you’re at.

“Good job, Y/n! You’ve caught quite the attention!” Your manager greets you just as you made it backstage, offering you the business card in her hand. You look down and take the paper on your own, eyeing the print. Your eyes widened.

“I got invited to perform in JAPAN?!” You exclaim. Never have you ever gotten an opportunity to go out of the country, only touring around local concerts although still popular by demand.

“A private, high classed lounge owned by club owners Haitani Ran and Haitani Rin! Isn’t this great news?” She beams as she holds her hands up. You look at her with your eyes glistening, a wide smile on your face as you feel so grateful for the opportunity. And to be personally invited to perform at this specific lounge is a huge deal for you. You’ll have more of a chance at getting acquainted with bigger connections. It’s intimidating, yet you couldn’t help the excitement that your hard work is finally paying off even bigger than it has.

“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow so get your bags packed because it’s gonna be a long trip!” Your manager says before giving your arms a tight squeeze. “You deserve this, Y/n. Bask in it now because before you know it, you’ll be attracting even bigger opportunities.” She walks off, leaving you with the business card as you read the print once more.

You immediately change before packing your bags when you make it home, excitement making it hard to fall asleep although eager for the next day to come. It was early in the morning when you and your manager met at the airport holding your private jet. Checking your consistent notifications as well as scrolling through social media. Sitting on the plane was full of thought while you listened to the music blasting from your headphones, thinking about the venue you’d be performing at. How intimate it’ll be to sing amongst all of those people who will be judging you, observing your creativity to see if it’s worth the profit.

An empty estate was offered to you and your manager, coming upon a penthouse once your driver dropped you off. Your manager basked in the luxury as she unpacked, talking your ear off as if she’s more excited than you. You chuckle at the thought before heading to your own bedroom to unpack, an eyebrow raising at the name tagged on the door. When you opened the door, you were met with a modernized luxury bedroom. The body sized window gives you a beautiful view of the city from above. You stood there a moment before turning around to get your outfit ready for the night, already having notified your manager to not call the stylist since you already had an idea of what you were going to wear.

When evening finally struck you had just climbed into the vehicle, your driver helping you in before shutting the door behind you, along with your two security guards who traveled with you. Your manager sat in the passenger seat, the black suv moving along as you eye through the tinted window. Your nerves are struck, having never performed in a country other than your own. Especially with the presence of numerous important individuals, you couldn’t afford to make any rookie mistakes.

When you arrived, you were helped out of the car, different locals being held back by guards already posted for the lounge, keeping the crowd behind the ropes as you walked along the red carpet. You waved and smiled as people screamed your name and song lyrics, cameras flashing as well as paparazzi ready for the next best shot. Finally making it inside, you were greeted with a beautiful melody, red covering the walls with a marble floor. Gold decor plastered along as well as the large chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.

A red rug sat in the middle of the floor along with cushioned chairs and glass tables, a bar across from the stage as well as many people conversing with champagne and other alcoholic beverages. A woman holds a microphone on the stage, entertaining the audience with beautiful harmony. Everyone wears all black formal attire, causing you to look down at your shimmery, golden gown with a grimace. You turn to your manager as you both walk down the hall in the opposite direction, heading for the dressing room.

“I thought I was supposed to wear gold.” You say softly. She smirks.

“You are. Don’t forget, Y/n. This is your special night.”

My special night, right.

You take a deep breath before one of your security guards opens the dressing room.

Your eyes perk at the man standing inside. He turns his head back before walking towards you with a smile. You eye his purple orbs before examining the suit accenting his broad figure. His neck tattoo displays a symbol you’ve never seen before, though it fit him well. Fingers run through his short, dyed hair as he gets closer.

“Welcome, Y/n. Haitani, Ran.” He states, holding a hand out. You smile politely, ignoring your anxiety as you shake his hand. You couldn’t help but notice how soft his skin felt against yours.

“Hello, Mr. Haitani. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” You beam, subconsciously rubbing your palms against the fabric of your dress, refraining from picking at the dress.

“Please, call me Ran. The pleasure is all mine. We are grateful to have you here.” He says, before connecting his lips with the back of your hand, gaze still holding yours. You felt your face warm, having never been handled so gently by a man considering the type of males that live in your hometown. Your manager walks up, both of them greeting each other, though her body is slightly tense when she gives him a tight smile. You fail to notice the display of tension, too focused on the tingling sensation lingering from the contact with your hand.

“I see that gold fits you very well. Best choice I’ve ever made.” He chuckled. So he recommended it to your manager?

That brings you comfort knowing you hadn’t made a mistake, after all it never felt good to be the odd one out because of misinformation.

“Indeed it is. Y/n, let’s get you ready to perform!” Your manager eased her arm around your shoulder before pulling you off, Ran waving bye as he exited the room while you shifted your gaze at her with confusion.

“What was that about?” You question her as she fixes her own makeup in the mirror.

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

“The way you just interr…”

“Y/n.” She breathes out. “Let’s focus on your music, yeah?” She says as she touches up your face. You nod your head right before an employee comes in to queue you. You exhale before heading down the hall behind the stage.

“Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Y/n!”

Straightening your back, you stepped onto the stage, revealing yourself to the audience who claps and cheers, giving you the welcome you deserve. You gaze at the beautiful view of the crowd, noticing a familiar suit sitting with eight other interesting looking men. You greet the crowd right before the music begins, beginning your performance as everyone quiets down, along with the light over the audience dimming.

During your performance, you allow yourself to get lost in the music. Closing your eyes as your hand moves along, flowing with the melody as your beautiful voice harmonizes well with the piano. Your head tilts as you release a stronger note that comes from the base of your voice, tightening your grip on the microphone as you walk along the stage. The slit of your gown opens slightly, exposing your thigh as you move across the stage. Your gaze shifts to different sides of the lounge, making eye contact with a few of the audience members as some of them sway their upper bodies with your song.

The frequency of your voice brings a sense of calmness to the crowd, some with their palm holding their cheek up as they wear a smile, pleasantly losing themselves with you as they seem to be in a trance that locks them in to only you. Some lean into your presence as they gaze at your figure, nodding their heads occasionally to the flow as well as admiring your overall appearance.

Your manager stands behind the stage, out of the sight of everyone as she chews her nails, shifting her gaze to the eight males that sit upstairs with the best view of the stage. Her eyebrows furrow while her arms tremble slightly, unable to focus on anything else but the intimidating gazes stuck on you. The platform of her shoe taps against the ground as she exhales.

The music goes out just as your voice lingers the last note, eyes fluttering back open as a grin grows on your expression, all the while one of your arms lie out to the side. You set the microphone back on the stand after you bow with a “thank you,” as everyone claps. You accidentally catch Ran’s gaze as well as the other men just as you wave ‘goodbye’ to the audience. You meet your manager behind the stage as she gives you a smile and pulls you into a hug.

“Great job, Y/n! Now let’s celebrate.”

The night was spent drinking as well as having conversations with various people, discussing their businesses and hobbies as well as asking you numerous facts about yourself. Your manager seemed to have disappeared a while ago, leaving you to sit by yourself on a lounge chair, the dress hugging your legs as if you were a mermaid. You eye your phone’s screen while taking a sip of your champagne, eyeing the recent post of your own performance until the shadow of a person steals your attention.

“We need to go, now!” Your manager says before snatching your wrist, pulling you along as drops of liquid splash out of the glass.

“M/n? What the hell?” You gasp as you’re caught off guard, almost tripping over your own dress while she forces you to rush to the dressing room.

You yank your arm out of her grip before glaring at her.

“M/n! What is going on? Why have you been so on edge tonight?” She quickly gathers all of your stuff as you stare at her with disbelief. She pauses, failing to look at you.

“L-look. I’ll explain everything later. We just need to get out of Japan right now.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we were staying for a few days.” Your tone shifted to concern. “What’s wrong, M/n? Did something happen?” She drops the makeup supplies before turning to you and gripping your arms.

“I told you, Y/n! I will explain everything later, but right now we don’t have much time! We need to leave, now!” You gaze at her with shock along with fear as you become nervous by her own look of terror. Sweat sliding along the lining of her forehead along with her eyeliner slightly smeared with red eyes.

What the fuck is going on?

“Oh? What’s the rush? The party was just getting started.” A smooth voice says with amusement behind you. You watch as your manager’s eyes widened before you turned to meet your gaze with three men. Your eyes met a familiar purple though the rest of the features were slightly different, the purple mullet being the most prominent as well as the matching tattoo you saw on the male earlier. You guessed this man to be the other owner of the club, Haitani Rin.

Standing to his right is a man with golden eyes, blonde strands falling over his face along with his black hair pulled into a neat ponytail. His expression was light, holding a smile that you could mistake for politeness. He placed his hands in his pockets after shutting the door behind them. To the Haitani’s left is a man with narrowed blue eyes that seem to pierce into your soul, his pink mullet shaped perfectly around his beautiful features. Your gaze shifts to the scars placed at the corners of his mouth, furrowing your brows before you take in the situation at hand.

“What’s going on, M/n?” You side eye her as you watch her eyes widen. Her lips slightly apart as she tries to think of something to say.

“That was a beautiful performance, Y/n. Fitting for such a gorgeous woman.” The blonde says as he approaches, holding a hand out. The tiger in black ink on his neck added to the intimidating aura that contrasts with the expression on his face. He mimics Ran, bringing your limp hand to his lips while gazing into your eyes. A look of such intensity that you had to look away.

“Thank you…” You pause in expectance.

“Kazutora.” You nod with a polite smile before shifting your gaze to the others.

The tension in the room has yet to disappear. You couldn’t really focus on anything else but how scared your manager looks right now.

“M/n. It’d be in your best interest to follow us. The King wants to speak to you.” The pink haired one says, a look of satisfaction crossed his face when he states ‘the King,’ which causes you a little confusion by the title.

Kazutora takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pulling you along as you look behind to glance at your manager with a questioning look. You all walk out of the dressing room and through the hall. The only sounds being your heels clicking and their speech, nothing you could decipher because of the differing language.

“Surprised she’d be Mikey’s type.” Rin says to the other men.

“No kidding. Who knew a famous babe from Y/c would catch his eye?” Kazutora says while glancing at you.

“There’s a lot you two don’t know about Mikey.” The pink haired man replies.

“Hm, I guess you’re right Sanzu. Wonder how long it’ll take before blood sheds tonight.” Kazutora rubs his chin.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Sanzu smirks.

You turn back to glance at your manager who looks as though the color on her face has disappeared.

I hope I find out what’s going on with her.

You all arrive upstairs, walking down a hall before being met with an office. When you walked in, you noticed the other men who sat on the balcony with Ran, standing around the desk facing the entrance. Ran also in position though sitting in a chair next to the desk in the spacious room. A man with pale hair sits behind the desk with a sweater hanging off of his shoulders, dark eyes gazing into yours as Kazutora removes his arm and leads you to your seat. Your manager sits beside you on another chair, along with Rin standing by her side and Kazutora standing by yours, everyone facing the platinum haired male. Sanzu takes position beside the short man, standing by his chair with his hand holding the other.

You felt on edge, seven pairs of eyes focused on you, all the while silence filled the room. You turn in your seat to look at the blocked entrance, some other broad men blocking the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as the room seemed to get colder, turning back in your seat as you faced the mystery man.

“Speak.” His narrowed eyes meet your manager’s.

She hesitates as you watch her shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her chest rises as she takes a shaky breath in before exhaling.

“U-um, I…” She stammers, fingers trembling against the arm of the chair. You stay quiet, concerned with her behavior as your own body glistens with sweat from stress. You shift in your seat, straightening your back as you cross your ankles, your legs fidgeting as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

“You tried to leave? And so soon?” He questions, his expression stoic as his eyes bore into your manager’s. Her hands move to her lap as her foot taps against the ground.

“U-uh, no. No I didn’t.” She breathes out.

“I think you did. Didn’t she?” They all responded with “Yes Boss.” Before silence falls once more.

“Why?” M/n’s mouth shuts as she tries to think of something. You could only guess that she was nervous because of whatever business title the men hold so you decide to speak up for her.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity, really. It’s just been a long night.” You explain, only causing some of the men to chuckle at the naivety. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Okay, what the hell is really going on?”

M/n looks at you with wide eyes before holding her hands up and shaking her head.

“Y-Y/n, I’ll explain later, just give me some ti…”

“No, tell me right now why everyone is acting so weird. Stop wasting time.” You growl, sick of the antics and the vague conversations.

The man looks at you for a moment before nodding to Rin. To your surprise he pulls out a gun just as M/n hops out of her seat causing the chair to fall backwards. She runs to the entrance only for him to hold the weapon up, shooting the gun. The bullet penetrates her back, causing her to fall over, a shriek leaving her lips as the throbbing pain fills her senses. You jump out of your seat in shock, eyes staring at the blood staining her attire while she lays her head on the floor.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim, heading to the bleeding girl only to get pulled against a chest, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your feet off the ground.

“You said to stop wasting time!” Kazutora laughs as the rest look on in amusement to the woman losing consciousness.

“Y/n! I-I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I had no choice! I had no choice!” She weeps, hand smacking against the floor as she covers her head with her arm. “I’m so sorry.” She whimpers.

“What are you talking…! Let me fucking go! She needs to go to the hospital!” You yell, beating Kazutora’s arms as you try to pry them off, kicking your feet.

Sanzu walks to the woman lying on the ground. Setting a foot to the wound before pressing down, causing a strangled gasp to come out of her mouth. You struggle harder as you watch him point a gun to her head from above.

“Explain yourself.” He growls, smiling wide with crazed eyes.

“I-I sold you! I s-sold… you! It’s… *gasp* all in their…*pant* hands!” She weeps, “I h-ha… *grunt* had no choice!” Her own nails pierce her palms as she turns her hands to fists, squeezing in pain as he continues to press his weight down.

You could only stare in silence as you paused your struggling.

“T-they’re a… a gang! A *pant* criminal….organization! Th-they…*grunt* threaten…!” She screams out in agony once Sanzu pulls his leg up and slams his foot down on her wound. You wince as you begin to struggle again.

“Let her go!” You were angry with her, yes. However, if the truth is that they threatened her, you couldn’t help but empathize despite your lingering resentment. Your only focus was to get both of you out of here alive. You wondered where your guards were.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sanzu smiles before moving his foot off of her and cocking the gun, pulling the trigger. The bullet blasts half of her skull open. The sickening sound of blood splattering the floor causes you to gasp before you yell out, tears falling out of your eyes at the traumatic display.

“Hey, save those vocals for the bedroom, yeah?” Ran jokes before lighting a cigarette, some of the other men chuckling at his response.

“Let me go! Let me go, goddamnit!” You growl angrily, crying as Kazutora forces you to sit down.

He cocks his gun, bringing the barrel to your head while putting a finger over his lips. You eye him with a look of horror.

“Shh.” He starts. “Boss isn’t done talking.”

You pant as you hold your chest, staring back at their ‘boss’ who eyes you quietly. The room calms down once more as everyone takes their original positions, a gun still pressed to your head. He slides a form over for you to read. You lean in your seat and look over the sheet that confirmed your manager’s signature, signing you over to Bonten, a criminal organization residing in Japan.

“The contract doesn’t lie. During this term and all others, you are now the property of Bonten.”

You shook your head while whispering, “No.”

“I own you, Y/n. You can either fall in line willingly or by force. I don’t care. You’re mine.” He says before standing from his seat.

“Mikey.” He says to you before shifting his attention to the others. “Take her to Bonten’s headquarters.”

Kazutora hides his gun and grabs your arm as you struggle against his hold. Just as Mikey and Sanzu, along with some of the other men, head to the doorway, he says, “Knock her out if you have to.”

A breathy laugh is released from Kazutora before he pulls back a fist.

“Sorry, doll.”

Darkness immediately engulfs your vision.

205 notes · View notes

perotovar · 1 month

Text

bloody kisses — part one: less than zero

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 5k content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, some angst, if i missed anything lmk! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @chronically-ghosted (ily ♥)

summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

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The kid was a fucking regular at this point.

Tim just happened to be in the station every time the kid got caught. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, who knows.

And God help him, Tim sorta liked the little shit.

“Don’t you ever get tired of coming here, Shane?”

“I told you, my name is–”

“I’m not calling you that and you know it,” Tim sighed exasperatedly, rubbing a large hand over his face. “Why did you steal the magazine?” Tim’s voice was almost bored when he asked.

Shane stayed quiet, picking at the chipped black nail polish on his fingernails. He was looking down, chains jingling from how quickly he was bouncing his leg. Was he nervous? Tim didn’t think the kid was ever nervous. Or, well. Acted like it, at least.

Shane Morrissey, twenty-three, twenty-four next month, was found at a convenience store stealing an issue of Playgirl Magazine. Tim wasn’t judging, but his reading on the kid veered off in, well, the other direction. He had the vibe that Shane could go either way; either aggressively straight, or trying to cover something up.

“Look, I really don’t care why, kid. I’m not going to… judge you, or something–”

“Whatever, old man,” Shane sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from him. “Can I just get my community service and go?”

Tim quirked a brow and crossed his own arms over his chest, standing tall behind the chair pushed into the interrogation table. Tim had asked Ron to turn the microphones in the room off. Tim knew the kid better than anyone here, and he knew Shane wouldn’t talk if he knew he was being recorded. Or he’d go off about aliens or “drones” or whatever other bullshit he came up with next.

Shane wasn’t an idiot, Tim knew that. Shane knew that. He just had a hell of a wall put up.

Tim sighed and pulled the chair out. He spun it around so he could sit on it backwards, arms perched on the top. “Kid,” Tim started. “Listen, I’m not going to do anything. It’s a fucking magazine and this is New York City. Your little theft is pretty far down the list of my priorities right now.”

Shane actually looked a little offended, looking at Tim incredulously.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time. And to be honest, I don’t want to see you back in here anytime soon, okay?”

“Aww, kicking me out? Thought you liked our little chats,” Shane batted his eyelashes, an exaggerated pout on his lips. He rolled his eyes after that and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, bored.

“I said I didn’t wanna see you back in here, Morrissey.”

Shane looked at him, big brown eyes squinted accusingly.

Tim reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, digging out a business card. He slid it across the table until it was next to one of Shane’s hands. He didn’t really know why he was offering this to Shane. Well, he did, but he couldn’t really say, ‘I see a lot of myself in you,’ without Shane taking it the wrong way. This wasn’t one of Shane’s normal petty crimes. Shane didn’t strike him as the type to steal this sort of thing. He’d vandalize the side of a building or go on joyrides. Things that were mostly just annoying. This magazine was… different.

Tim had his fair share of this sort of thing. He got into being a cop because he got caught when he was in his twenties. He was angry at the world because people didn’t accept him, so he lashed out. He got the feeling that Shane was the same way. Things were different in the 80s, so hiding this part of himself worked for Tim. He didn’t want Shane to feel like he had to.

“If you wanna talk, give me a call, okay?”

Shane rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but Tim held up a hand to cut him off.

“I know, you don’t want to call a cop, but I promise I’ll be off duty. I’ll just be Tim when you call, not Detective Rockford.”

Shane blinked at him before a giggle bubbled out of his mouth. “Your first name is Tim?”

It was Tim’s turn to roll his eyes. He sighed heavily and got up, pushing the chair back in. “Or don’t call me, whatever, kid. I’m just saying, if you need someone to talk to about… anything, just. I’m all ears, alright?” He kept things vague on purpose. Once he was back at the interrogation room’s door, he turned back around. “Seriously, I don’t wanna see you back in here again, alright?”

Shane raised his eyebrows, eyes wide as a mocking facial expression crossed his features. “Whateverrr,” he sighed, standing from his own chair. He looked down at the business card on the table and picked it up as the door clicked shut. He rubbed his thumb over Tim’s name before stuffing it in the pocket of his leather duster.

He hastily left the interrogation room and made his way toward the exit, but was stopped by a secretary.

“Shane Morrissey?”

Shane cringed as he froze, staring at the older woman. He glared a little, but raised his arms in defeat. “Yeah? What?” He bit back at her.

“Detective Rockford said you had personal items,” she said sweetly, rolling her chair to the wall of lockers behind her.

Shane raised a brow. “I didn’t bring anything–”

“Here you go, sweetie. Don’t go getting into trouble now!”

Shane sighed and grabbed the black plastic bag from her. “What did this old man give me–?” He gasped as he looked inside the bag, cheeks burning. It was the magazine he’d stolen. The Playgirl magazine. He squeezed his eyes shut and got out of the station like a bat out of hell.

Honestly, the only reason he’d stolen it was because Peter Steele was on the cover. He was in that convenience store for a pack of smokes and saw the frontman’s face on the cover, bare chest on full display, with a large hand cupping the cock in his underwear.

He’d been staring at the cover for a few minutes too long, because the convenience store clerk waved his hands in front of his face. “You gonna buy somethin’, man?” The clerk’s name tag said “Dante” and he looked very bored.

Shane shook himself out of it and looked up, the bright red of the magazine piercing the corner of his eye. “Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, digging into his baggy pants to pull out his wallet. “I’ll get a pack of reds,” he mumbled, pulling out a couple greasy bills.

Dante didn’t bother asking for his ID and just turned around, digging into a drawer below the case of cigarettes for the key to open it.

Shane’s eyes were like a magnet, pulling directly back to the magazine. He looked at Dante’s back for a second, and quickly rolled up and stuffed the magazine into one of the deep pockets of his leather duster.

Dante pulled out the pack of cigarettes and locked the case shut again. He sighed as he tossed the pack onto the counter. “That’ll be ten bucks,” he said, voice monotone.

Shane handed him a ten dollar bill and turned to leave.

“Hey!”

He turned back, standing in the doorway just as the bell dinged above him, and saw Dante’s bored face now looking angry. “The fuck you doin’, man? Put that back!”

Shane raised his brows and looked down, the magazine poking out of his pocket. He looked back up at Dante’s face and booked it, running as fast as his legs would take him.

His lungs burned as heavy boots thundered along the concrete, chains and jewelry clanging against each other. He turned down an alley and gasped for air, leaning against a dirty wall with his hands on his knees. He waited until his breathing was back to normal and checked his surroundings. When he figured the coast was clear, he took a step out of the alley.

“‘Scuse me.”

Shane whipped his head around and saw a cop standing there. “What?” He frowned, voice having a little more bite than was probably necessary, but well, Shane hated cops.

“You just come from a convenience store down the road?” The cop pointed his thumb in the direction behind himself.

“No. Can I go back to what I was doing?”

“What were you doin’?”

“None of your business, pig,” Shane rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but the cop grabbed his arm and cuffed him. “Hey! Fuck off!”

“No can do, kid. Clerk called about a kid matching your description with a, uh… well, an interesting magazine in his pocket,” the cop grumbled, tugging on the Playgirl poking out of Shane’s pocket.

Shane’s cheeks burned in embarrassment and shame, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck.”

“C’mon, fairy boy.”

“I’m not–!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Before Shane knew it, he was in the back of a cruiser and was headed toward the station.

He couldn’t even look at the magazine now. Shane laid in his bed, in the middle of his messy bedroom, and stared at the ceiling. The bright red of the magazine cover was just out of sight. The heavy guitars and vocals from his shitty speakers pierced the silence of his room, soothing his anxious thoughts. His mind drifted off to Detective Rockford. Or Tim, he guessed. He leaned over his bed and dug through the pile of clothes he’d discarded when he got home.

Tim’s business card now in hand, he laid his head back against the pillow and stared at the embossed text. The first thing that came to mind was Tim’s gravelly voice saying, “If you wanna talk, give me a call, okay?”

What would he even say to someone like Tim? Tim was a cop. He wasn’t exactly Shane’s first pick in literally any scenario.

Shane sighed and tossed the card onto the pile of clothes. He looked over to his left at the magazine laying next to him on his wrinkled sheets. Peter Steele’s come hither facial expression stared back at him.

He’d had these… thoughts for a while now. Feelings he had no answers for. He wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be. Shane liked women, he liked pussy. He did.

Did he?

He picked up the magazine and started looking through it. Of course, there were photos that went along with the cover, of The Green Man standing in front of a mirror without a shirt. He stuck his large hand down the front of his pants, lips parted and eyes closed. Shane adjusted how he was laying, feeling a minor stirring in his pelvis. Obviously Shane was looking at the woman Peter was heavily making out with on the next page.

The photos started to get a little more risqué as he went. They started out pretty tasteful, with Peter laying on a bed, fully clothed, and a hand gripped around his cock through his jeans. But they quickly became… less tasteful.

Shane stared at a photo of the singer sitting in a chair, completely naked, with a large hand wrapped around an equally large, hard cock. Shane’s own cock twitched in his boxers as he felt a light sheen of sweat at his hairline.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. He slammed the magazine onto his sheets and stared at his tented underwear. There was a small wet spot where there was precum already gathering. He started to breathe unevenly and worriedly looked up at his ceiling. He couldn’t even hear the music in his room from the rushing of blood in his ears.

He leaned over his bed and frantically searched for Tim’s business card. He didn’t even know what he was thinking, but he was terrified. He grabbed the landline on his nightstand and stared at the bland text on the white background.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He couldn’t call Rockford when he had a fucking boner.

An image of Tim’s face flashed behind his eyelids and he gasped, cock twitching in interest. His eyes snapped open and he frowned. “What the fuck?”

He looked down the tent in his boxers and felt betrayed. It was bad enough that he was hard when thinking about a man, but a cop? He couldn’t fucking believe it.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to entertain his dick at all.

But his dick wasn’t listening, hard and starting to throb underneath the thin material.

He sighed in defeat and looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom. “One time,” he breathed. “I’m doing this one time. No one ever has to know.”

Before he knew it, his boxers were thrown onto the messy pile on his floor and his hand was curled around his cock. He moaned at the relief he felt, thumbing the head teasingly. He shut his eyes, Tim’s face appearing behind his eyelids again. He groaned. Whether from frustration or arousal, he couldn’t tell and honestly didn’t care at this point.

He slowly built up a rhythm, stroking himself steadily. He bit his lip and sunk further into his sheets, feet planted flat on the bed. He started fucking his fist, lifting his hips off the bed. The cool air coming in through the window gave him goosebumps all over and made him whine weakly. He was thankful the music was turned up enough that he couldn’t hear himself.

“Good boy.”

Tim’s voice whispered in his ear. His imagination started to run wild, imagining Tim sitting on his bed and watching him.

“Show me how you get yourself off, baby.”

Shane groaned, the steady beat of his fist on his cock speeding up. The cool metal of the jewelry he wore on his hands had grown warm, giving him a delicious friction. It grounded him, telling him it wasn’t actually possible for it to be Tim’s hand around him.

“Want me to touch you?”

Shane nodded to himself, eyes shut in bliss. “Please,” he whispered. He slowly removed his hand and gripped himself with his left hand. It was a little awkward, but it was enough for him to imagine that it was someone else. That it was Tim.

“Fuck,” he huffed, rubbing the head with his thumb. “Gonna–”

“Come for me, Shane.”

Shane nodded to himself and sped up his left hand. Precum dribbled out of the tip, easing the way as he fucked his fist. It felt like only a few seconds had passed, completely lost in his own world. And maybe it had been only a few seconds.

“F-fuck!” He whimpered, balls drawing up. He groaned, stroking himself through it as he came hard, thick white cream covering his hand.

He came down slowly, panting hard as he kept his eyes closed. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down at his chest. He was completely covered in his own spend and he felt heavy. That was probably the most intense orgasm he’d ever had alone.

He picked up Tim’s business card and shut his eyes in defeat.

“Fuck.”

One Week Later

Shane had no idea how he got to this point. He was laying on the concrete outside of a club downtown. His face was throbbing and he was exhausted. The faint sounds of people shouting kept him conscious as he rolled onto his back. His vision was blurred and the buildings towering over him started to spin.

“Hey! Get the fuck back up! I ain’t done with you.”

Shane groaned and tried to look up at whoever was yelling at him, but his body felt too heavy. That didn’t last for long, though, because the next thing he knew, he was being hauled up by a man twice his size.

“You gonna try that shit again, faggot? Huh?” The brute’s breath smelled like shit as he spat in Shane’s face. Shane twisted his face in disgust, his head pounding even more with all the yelling.

“Nah,” Shane smirked, eyes barely open. “I’ll suck your cock before I do that again.”

The brute squawked in disgust and punched Shane square in the jaw. Shane laughed shakily, suddenly feeling more alive than dead. He was past the point of feeling any of the pain.

“Aww, c’mon, you don’t like it when someone sucks your cock?” He taunted.

“Alright, break it up, you two,” the bouncer for the club barked, pulling the brute off of Shane. Shane sagged against the wall he was pressed up against, head hanging low. “You okay, kid?”

Shane snapped his head up, but groaned in pain before he could react. He could’ve sworn that it was someone else’s voice for a second…

“Kid?” The bouncer shook his shoulders and handed him a plastic water bottle. “I said, are you okay? You got somewhere to go? Someone you can call?”

Shane drank from the bottle with shaking hands and looked at the bouncer, eyes half-lidded. The man was big, had dark skin, a beard, and thick ropes of hair cascading down his back. He was really handsome, in Shane’s opinion. He didn’t have the energy to fight with himself about it right now.

“Y-yeah. There a phone nearby?” He croaked, licking his dry lips. The bouncer nodded and hauled Shane up onto his feet. Shane lost his footing at first and fell into him, gripping onto the man’s thick waist.

“C’mon, man,” the man grunted, basically carrying him to the club’s phone. Thankfully, the bouncer brought him to a quieter area of the club. “Can you call them yourself?”

Shane’s throbbing head moved to look up at the bouncer. He nodded slowly, opening and closing his eyes like a cat falling asleep.

“I’ll be in the hall if you need me, okay? I’ll get you another water.”

Shane hummed and picked up the club’s phone, gently pressing it to his ear. He dug into his duster pocket and pulled out Tim’s business card. It was all rumpled up and dirty, but he could still read the numbers, surprisingly. He’s pretty sure it takes him far too long to dial the numbers, but the faint sound of the phone ringing tells him he actually did it.

Tim picks up on the third ring.

“This is Rockford.”

A shiver travels down Shane’s spine at the familiar gravelly voice.

“Th-thought you were ‘just Tim’ with me,” he says weakly, a faint smile on his face.

“Morrissey? Didn’t think you’d actually call me, shit. Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” he grunted. His voice sounded pinched when he said it, his face curled up in pain again. He’s pretty sure the brute split his lip because that’s throbbing now too.

“Where are you, Shane? I hear music.”

“C-club downtown. Got–” he paused, swallowing around a lump of pain in his throat. “Pissed someone off.”

“Shit, kid. Do you need me to come get you?”

Shane groaned in pain as an answer and nodded, even though Tim couldn't see him. The bouncer came back, putting another plastic water bottle in front of him. Shane made eye contact with him and nodded in thanks. “Can you–” He gestured to the water bottle, asking for the large man to open it for him.

“Is someone there? Give them the phone, kid.”

Shane didn’t answer and just handed the phone to the bouncer. He didn’t hear the one-sided conversation and just laid back in the swiveling office chair, the now opened bottle in his hand.

The bouncer hung up the phone and chuckled down at Shane. “You got friends in places I didn’t think you would, man.”

Shane smiled, eyes shut. “We’ve got history,” he said vaguely.

“I’m sure you do. He’ll be here soon.”

Shane had no idea how much time passed, but the sound of Tim’s low, soft voice in his ear woke him up. When he opened his eyes, Tim’s tired, handsome face greeted him, making him smile softly.

“You came,” he said softly, genuinely a little surprised, and tried to stand on wobbly legs.

“‘Course I came, kid. Said I’d help you out. You okay coming back to my place?”

Shane hummed and wrapped an arm around Tim’s broad torso, fingers fiddling with the tank top’s material. He was wearing one underneath a button-up. He probably just got off work.

“Take that as a yes,” Tim sighed. He looked to the bouncer, and nodded in thanks. He led Shane out to his Caprice and buckled him into the passenger seat. “Keep drinking that water, okay?”

Shane mumbled in response and lolled his head against the back of the seat.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, kid, Jesus.”

“Hit ya real hard, didn’t he?” Tim grunted, pressing a wet washcloth against the cut on Shane’s cheekbone.

“More of a lovetap.”

Tim sighed and cupped Shane’s face in a large hand to hold him steady. Shane held his breath, eyes glued to the focused expression on Tim’s face. He studied every detail, never getting a chance to be so close to him before.

“Why were you at the club, Shane?”

Shane sighed and looked down at Tim’s broad chest underneath the tank top. He’d taken off the dress shirt when they walked in the door of Tim’s apartment. They were sitting at the bar in Tim’s kitchen, Shane’s chunky boots on the bar of the stool Tim was sitting on. He looked at the slacks pulling at Tim’s thick thighs and forced himself to look elsewhere, inadvertently giving Tim room to clean up the blood on his split lip.

He hissed in pain at the sting and mumbled, “Wanted to get out of my apartment.”

Tim gave him a look that said, ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

Shane rolled his eyes and shrugged. “I dunno,” he sighed.

“That was a part of downtown I didn’t think I’d find you in, to be honest,” Tim said softly. He picked up another damp washcloth and cleaned up some of the dirt on Shane’s neck. “Couple more blocks and you’d be in the… more colorful side of town.”

Shane froze, eyes wide. “What are you saying?” He asked defensively, eyebrows furrowed.

“‘M not saying anything, kid. Just making an observation,” Tim shrugged back. He removed his hands slowly and nudged Shane’s chin with the knuckle on his index finger. “There ya go. Lookin’ good.”

Shane blushed a little and looked away. He crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled, “Thanks for getting me.”

Tim smiled softly. “Sure, kid. You got anyone to let them know where you are?”

Shane shook his head and didn’t say anything.

Tim nodded and didn’t press any further. “Well, I’ve got a couch if you want somewhere to sleep for the night. Sorta late now.”

Shane turned up his nose at first, but deflated, too tired to keep the mask on. He didn’t say anything else and just walked over to Tim’s couch. He laid down on his side, facing the back of the couch and hugged himself.

Tim’s eyebrows turned down in concern, but he left it alone for now. He got up and took his shoes off, quietly making his way into the kitchen. He got Shane some water and left it on the coffee table.

Tim looked at Shane’s sleeping form one last time before he turned and went to bed.

Shane’s entire body ached. He turned his head and groaned in pain.

“Awake?”

Shane opened his eyes and immediately shut them, the light from the window blinding him. He tried again, looking over at Tim standing in his kitchen. He was wearing that same white tank top from the night before and some plaid pajama pants. His normally put-together hair was ruffled and starting to curl. Shane’s heart pounded at the sight.

“Sorry, I know it’s bright. Want something to eat?” Tim asked gently, holding up a pan and spatula.

Shane turned his body but couldn’t, legs getting all tangled in a blanket. When did he get that? He looked down and noticed his jacket and boots were off. He looked up at Tim and raised a brow.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t want you getting dirt on my couch,” Tim grumbled, turning back to his cooking.

Shane felt… something in his stomach. Were those butterflies? He didn’t get butterflies in his stomach. Least of all for a cop.

“You like eggs?”

Shane looked up again and nodded.

“Think this is the quietest you’ve ever been around me, kid,” Tim chuckled, cracking an egg into the pan.

“Sorry,” he croaked, voice still scratchy from sleep.

“Don’t be, it’s alright,” Tim hummed. He transferred the eggs onto a plate and grabbed a fork, bringing it over to Shane. He sat on the edge of his coffee table and handed the younger man the plate. “Eat, please.”

Shane looked at the plate of scrambled eggs and almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time someone did something like this for him. He took the plate and started eating quietly.

“How you feeling?” Tim asked softly, taking a drink of his coffee. He held the mug in both hands between his thighs, Shane’s eyes glued to the sight.

“‘M alright. Sore,” Shane mumbled around the eggs.

“I’m sure you are,” Tim snorted. “I mean how are you feeling, kid.”

Shane shrugged, chewing silently. “Fine.”

Tim sighed and got up, walking back to his kitchen. Shane frowned to himself as he finished off his eggs. He set the plate down on the coffee table and stood up. He really was sore, but pushed through it as he walked into Tim’s kitchen.

“You wanna know why I was at that club?”

Tim froze at his opened refrigerator and slowly turned toward the younger man. He shut the fridge door and gave Shane his attention, leaning against the counter to the bar.

Shane shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He kept his eyes downcast as he spoke, staring at the hole in his sock. “I was at that club because I wanted to… I dunno, see more people like… like that.”

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, listening intently. “Like what?”

“Like–” Shane sighed in frustration. “Gay people,” he mumbled. “Got the address mixed up, so, this–” he gestured to his face. “Was the result.”

Tim smiled internally. There it was.

“I felt– I’ve been,” he paused, looking for the words. “I don’t really know. I don’t,” he sighed in defeat.

Tim hummed in response, unsure if Shane wanted his advice or not.

“If you’re gonna be a dick, I can just leave. I don’t wanna hear what you have to say,” Shane frowned, looking up at Tim with a hard expression on his face.

“How do you know what I was gonna say?” Tim replied, shrugging easily. Shane stared at Tim’s bulging biceps, the tank top revealing more skin than he’d ever seen.

“Well–! You’re,” Shane frowned, cheeks warm. “You’re a cop. You guys are always saying shitty things to guys like me.”

“Sure, some–”

“Don’t ‘not all cops’ me, Tim.”

Tim’s eyes widened at the response. Not necessarily the words, but the fact that Shane actually called him by his name. “Alright, I get it,” he said softly. “I know you’ve had a lot of bad experiences with cops, I’m sorry.”

Shane huffed in response, but didn’t retort.

“I mean it, though. I wasn’t going to judge you, Shane,” Tim said, stepping closer to him.

Shane’s breathing picked up, looking at Tim’s large hand on the bar’s countertop. “You weren’t?” He asked shakily.

“No, kid,” Tim chuckled. He cupped Shane’s face and gently rubbed the pad of his thumb along the split in his lip. “You can’t keep getting into trouble over this sort of thing. There are other ways.”

The air left Shane’s lungs, big brown eyes staring at Tim’s handsome face. He was so close now, Shane had no idea what to do. “L-like what?” He breathed shakily. He stared at Tim’s lips, subconsciously licking his own.

Tim looked over Shane’s face, trying to read his body language. Not yet. He took his hand away and grabbed a glass, filling it with water. “Talking about it, for one,” he said quietly.

Shane exhaled a heavy breath and looked down. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he thought he was going to pass out. Was Tim about to kiss him? He looked at the back of Tim’s head, eyes looking over the curls intently.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Shane said quietly. “Not right now anyway.”

Tim turned around, face unreadable, and handed Shane the water. “What do you want to do now, then?” He asked, leaning against the bar’s countertop again.

Shane set the glass down and stepped closer into Tim’s space, eyes glued to the older man’s lips. He looked up at his eyes, then back down at his lips. He surged forward and pressed his mouth to Tim’s, kissing him roughly.

Tim grunted into it, arms raised at his sides. It took a second for his brain to kick in and he pulled back, turning his head to the side slightly.

Shane’s cheeks burned and he felt like an idiot. He turned away and grabbed his jacket that was hanging over the back of one of Tim’s dining room chairs.

“Shane, wait,” Tim started, but Shane ignored him, roughly pulling his chunky boots on.

“Don’t,” Shane snapped. “I’ll be out of your hair.” His face was hard and left no room for argument. He stormed over to the door of Tim’s apartment, heavy boots thundering loudly across the hardwood flooring.

The last thing Tim saw was Shane’s retreating form and the sound of his front door slamming, the sound echoing throughout the apartment.

#shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey au #dio morrissey fic #dio morrissey fanfiction #shane morrissey #tim rockford #tim rockford au #tim rockford smut #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #oaksfics

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house-of-daena · 8 months

Note

im, im so normal I, male lactation, i need, more. need to get my grimy little boy hands on a guys boobs right now.

uhh male lactation with Dottore if you’d be up for it, preferably male reader but could be gn! Imagine he does an experiment that goes wrong.

Not sure if your requests are full or you wouldn’t want to write something like this, haha. Feel free if delete this if you’re not up for it, thank you in advance, I hope you have a good day!! Sorry if this is so ramble-y or hard to read.

[📺 tv guy from a while ago, you probably know who i am, i’ve been in ur notifs quite a bit haha]

lab experiment gone wrong [dottore x gn.reader]

contents: no pronouns specified, dom reader/sub dottore, nsfw, dubcon(?), dottore is strapped on a bed, lactation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, slight feminization, spanking (only once), degradation (in a sense where you're talking to him as if he's just a test subject), humiliation, some graphic descriptions, syringes, tell me if i miss anything.

꒰ im pretty sure ik who u r and ive sent u a rq so consider this as an equal trade for that 😉 ik i said imma write succubus baizhu first but yeah, my love for dottore won... it was planned to be shorter but idk what happened,, tell me if this one got boring im in tears 😰 rqs r still open btw꒱

everything quickly went by as a blur.

one moment he was in his laboratory, concocting something with chemicals he doesn't remember anymore, before he accidentally dropped the vial, and it splashed right onto his shirt. it seeped through his clothes, the cool liquid touching his chest—then he woke up, strapped on a bed.

alarmed at his state, he thrashed his body against the leather straps, squinting at the operating light that hung directly above his head. he recognizes the room he is currently in; an operating room where he has done most of his experiments. his jaw clenched as his hands closed into fists. who ever dared to try to capture him in his own—

"good, you're awake." dottore's eyes immediately landed on you, his body frozen. your voice echoing at the empty expanse of the room as you walked toward the bed, footsteps loud against the tiled floor, accompanying the silent buzz of machinery. "sleep well? how do you feel?"

now that his initial shock has subsided at the mere sight of you, dottore began to notice a couple of things.

for starters, he was stark naked.

no wonder why his body continued to shudder, no matter how hard he tried to stop it, his skin crawled against the cool metal he lay on. the bed was covered with a thin, white sheet—it was sterile, for once. the leather straps were soft where they met his skin, cyan colored silk that matched his hair was meticulously stitched onto the belt to make sure it didn't irritate the sensitive scars that littered his body. compared to the test subjects that entered this room, he was being treated carefully, while others were tied up with rusting chains instead.

and while he could understand why you've cleaned up the usually dirty room, caked with blood and filth (he was your lover, after all), he doesn't get why he has a gag on his mouth. will your procedure make him scream? his heart skips a beat at the thought.

and you? you were completely covered, compared to his naked self. it made his cheeks burn at the realization, especially when you were dressed as if you were about to perform surgery on him. you wore a lab coat, his in particular, and underneath, you wore your regular fatui clothing. a surgical mask covered half of your face, though he could tell by the wrinkles that formed at the corners of your eyes, and a twinkle that only spoke of mischief that you were grinning widely as you wore gloves, latex slapping against skin.

your fingers card through his hair, caressing his cheek, cooing whilst you looked down on him, both loving and condescending. he felt a chill run down his spine when you looked at him like that—as if he was just a test subject, awaiting whatever you had prepared to do to his body. his adam's apple bobbed as he gulped when you leaned down, lips ghosting over his teasingly. "you gave me quite the scare there," you whispered, and though the contrast of power between you was evident, the enjoyment, the thrill coursing through your veins seeing him so powerless, your voice was laced with worry over him. "imagine my surprise to see you all sprawled out on the floor with shattered glass all over you..."

at this point, dottore can safely assume his experiment, though still in development, was an utter failure. it served a purpose far from his vision, and that is why he was here, strapped on a bed with you overseeing his wellbeing. "though, you are completely safe from harm, i still want to run some tests. just to make sure." your hot breath, through the material of the mask and into his ear, made his skin tingle, and he nodded in agreement. your smile returned and your eyes brightened. "good,"

it was when the pad of your palms pressed against his pectorals that he finally realized his little accident had interesting side effects on his body. his jolted at the sudden touch, eliciting a muffled moan from his lips, and his chest burned with a familiar heat that was slowly spreading all over his body. his teeth dug into the gag in his mouth, squirming against the straps all over his body as you kept squeezing his pecs.

he felt something wet on his chest, and upon raising his head to see what it was, his face visibly reddened when he saw his nipples oozing out a peculiar white liquid that he could guess was milk.

he was lactating. how humiliating.

you hummed as you observed his body, paying no heed to his muffled protests when you kept touching him, tweaking and pinching his hardened nipples that endlessly leaked out milk, trickling down the curves of his puffy chest and sliding down to his quivering stomach. he failed to realize how hard he was until he saw his throbbing cock twitching and drooling almost as much as his breasts were.

normally, he could handle simple touches on his body whenever you were about to fuck him. he had to, lest you'll have to cut the foreplay short. but it was nearly unbearable how his body reacted to your touch, he couldn't imagine if you were to remove your gloves. perhaps it was because of the serum, or he was strapped onto a bed, unable to move or grab onto something, that he felt a lot more than usual.

your fingers were searing hot against his body, especially his chest. it tingled so deliciously when your blunt nails grazed his skin through the gloves. and when you flicked his tip, his cockhead spurted out more of his pre onto your gloves, playing with the sticky substance. it made you chuckle mockingly at him. his chest felt heavy, and it ached so fucking bad. it was so painful yet so good. gods, he wanted more, he needed more. he needs you to keep touching him, to milk him until he's emptied out.

if only he didn't have the gag on his mouth, he would've already begged for you, eyes full of hazy lust, chest heaving erratically at each breath.

all the while your eyes observed his body, wide and watching akin to a hawk's. it examined each reaction his body makes—each time he bucks his hips up in the air, thrusting at nothing as he grew desperate for friction, his nipples oozing copious amounts of glistening milk, each deep breath he had to take to breathe, his unfocused eyes, the drool that dribbled down his chin—everything.

it made him feel so weak before you. so small and vulnerable, like prey ready to be eaten by a beastly predator.

but you pull your hands away before he can even reach the brink of his high, his head falling back onto the pillow you've put just for him, and you take a step back. you grabbed something from the table beside you. you put it near his head, and pressed a button, the grin behind your mask grew.

"audio log #42,"

there was a brief pause in the air, dottore's muffled pants reverberating across the room. before outraged thrashing and kicking made the bed shake, almost making your recording device drop onto the floor. your eyes darkened, and your hand harshly struck his inner thigh, the slap so loud it made his ears ring. dottore's body twitched at the slap, his skin stung at the impact and thighs trembling but it easily reduced him to just squirm and whimper, though sharp eyes glared at you.

"it seems like the high and mighty il dottore has made a mistake inside his laboratory, ultimately inflicting him along with it." the tone of your voice was nothing short of mocking, a silent laugh slipping past your lips with your poor attempt to conceal it, "there isn't something to be ashamed upon making mistakes. however, the doctor has put himself in a rather... shameful predicament." you eye him for a moment, before you laugh once more.

dottore grits his teeth against the gag, his body beyond thrilled at how you spoke to him as if he was nothing more than a test subject ready to be experimented on. he kept squirming against the straps, his cock smearing precum all over his abdomen, mixing with the milk that had pooled on his tummy.

you had barely done anything, and he was already so riled up. you tilted your head at the pathetic display, and all dottore wanted to do was to shrivel up and hide from your degrading gaze. your eyes had a sadistic gleam in them when you grabbed a clipboard and began to read, proceeding with your 'documentation'. "it is a good thing the doctor has left notes and files about his recent research, it seems that..." you rambled onto the recorder, pacing back and forth as you recount all the ingredients he has added into the serum, explaining each of its composition and insight of his procedure.

dottore, try as he might, can't bring himself to focus hard enough to listen to your words as you try to find a solution. your words were nothing but pleasant background noise, his mind slowly fading in and out into a soft buzz. he tugs at the straps around his chest, tighter than the rest of his body. how cruel of you to take advantage of his weakness.

his body yearned for your touch, growing restless at your negligence, his nails clawing at the thin sheet beneath him, swallowing the spit that gathered in his mouth. his glare hardened when you only glanced at him, eyes full of mirth. you were enjoying every single second of this, and dottore swears you will pay for this utter humiliation you're making him go through.

finally, you put down the clipboard and moved close to him again. the entertained spark had vanished in your eyes and was replaced with something more serious, analytical, and cold. his face flushes at how his cock jumps just by your calculating gaze, cursing at himself.

your hands applied pressure on spots that you knew he was sensitive to, and heavy milk just oozed out of his swollen nipples. and when you intentionally pinched them hard, it squirted out milk onto your face and to your clothes. a bewildered chuckle leaves your lips when you see him look away, his face completely red.

"his pectorals have become engorged, effects akin to pregnancy, and it has been excessively leaking with breast milk without a rest." he whimpers helplessly as you continue to play with his nipples, squeezing and rubbing his poor sensitive buds, his body shaking the more you tease them. he keens when you press them hard, and you watch his body shudder as he throws his head back. you longed to hear him make those obscene sounds you adore, but you weren't done recording such an important documentation.

"his nipples have become oversensitive to simple touch. perhaps the serum the doctor made has intensified the effects of pregnancy and the production of certain hormones that even affect the male anatomy, as well as enhancing his perception of stimuli." you rubbed your chin and hummed whilst you thought, completely ignoring the tears that began to roll down his cheeks when you pull away again and pleading pitiably through the gag. "it is highly likely that it is the case. archons know how a serum used to enhance the fatuus to perform better turned into an aphrodisiac." you teased, your finger giving his poor neglected cock a sliver of attention, stroking his shaft, barely touching it, but it still throbbed from the pleasure, twitching and growing even harder.

you grabbed a small flashlight and examined his eyes. he could barely follow your words, blinking dumbly when you pulled away. "his pupils are dilated, and his behavior indicates that... the doctor isn't his usual self," you laugh, shoulders shaking, "how adorable!" and he quivers, from the cold or from the excitement, he doesn't know which.

"to further investigate the subject's condition, i'll have to collect a fair amount of the milk he's begun secreting." despite dottore being so lost in his aching desire to just be touched by you, body begging for relief, his eyes went wide at your words, meeting your eager ones. he could see how wicked your grin through the mask as you held what it seems to be breast pumps in your hands, a contraption used for lactation with women. dottore began thrashing again, his pride, long shattered ever since he had let himself be so submissive to you, still making its stand. as a fatui harbinger, he just cannot accept this! and for you to record it? gods, you will never live this down if he allows this.

where did you even get such a thing, anyway!? do you just have it lying around for an opportunity like this?

he glares at you again, shouting profanities and tugging on the straps to release himself from the restraints, but everything falls on deaf ears as you push his body down against the metal surface, a cackle bubbling from your chest and sending chills down his spine. easily, you attached the cups onto his chest, and cusped around his perky buds.

grabbing his chin between your pointer and your thumb, you lift it upwards to keep his pretty eyes on you, shimmering crimson with glittering lashes from his tears, sharp and deadly. though, you could only see the sheer desperation in his eyes, soft whines, and begging you to just spare him.

hah! as if your darling deserves any mercy. you merely cooed at him, before you took out a remote and pressed a button. the device spurred to life, and it began to automatically squeeze and pump his tits, making dottore roll his eyes back and arch his back, straining against the leather straps that held him back. he mewls when the pump milks his puffy breasts violently, sucking and kneading until his skin starts to bruise. it was maddening, endlessly tugging on his nipples, trying to get all of his milk as it pours and pours into the glass container.

his body was convulsing, writhing from the pleasurable bliss that never stops, a paradise within hell. his vision was blurred from his tears, and he began to see stars when your hand, free from your gloves, began to tug on his painfully erect cock. you squeezed it as much as the breast pumps did, eliciting a muffled cry as he bit hard onto the gag, sharp teeth leaving indents on the plastic material.

even if he came, you didn't stop, fingers rubbing his sensitive cockhead and picking up the pace. it was like he was constantly high above the clouds, burning hotter and hotter. his body spasms at each orgasm you wring out from him, his mind so lost that he can't even think anymore. what are you milking him for? his cum or for his milk? he doesn't know at this point, you just did what you pleased on his body.

and he didn't care, he was stuck in an endless loop of euphoria that he barely registered that faint prick of pain right above his hip bone. dazed eyes manage to look at you, confused, only to laugh at him. "curious?" you ask, your voice echoing inside his head, whimpering as he nods, "oh, just your serum i had recreated while you were asleep."

dottore was too far gone to properly react to what you had said, only squeezing his eyes shut as you took another shot of the serum and injected it into one of his pectorals. he was babbling against the gag in his mouth, choking on his own spit as his body burns with more ardent need, more intense than before. he felt his cock swell, so warm in your hand and drooling with his arousal, while his tits felt like it was on fire.

all he knows is that this was so addicting—the pleasure, the pain, he doesn't want it to stop. he wants you to keep milking him, to plunge your cock inside his hole and fuck him to your heart's content. you were treating him like a mere experiment, with no regard for him, only for the results. he fucking loves the feeling, tied down, helpless, surrendering his everything to you.

but perhaps that was just the serum reforming his thoughts.

his hips, taut against the air as he ruts into your fist, while your other hand takes off the glass container connected to the pump and replaces it with another. eyeing the milk that sloshed back and forth in your hand. pulling down your mask, you took a sip, gulping it down until the container was empty. licking your lips, refreshed and satisfied, you shot him a wolfish grin when you saw him watching you drink his milk.

"the milk produced by the lovely doctor tasted very sweet. better than any dairy produce i have ever drank by far," he looked proud at your statement, dumbly smiling as his head lolls to the side. "i'll have to run a few more tests before i begin working on a reverse serum."

dottore's body ached, worn out. he doesn't know how long since you've begun toying with him, letting him experience pleasure again and again until he's completely lost his mind. he was trembling, shakily breathing in between his pitiful moans. he lets out a scream, curling his toes and tossing his head back onto the pillow as he cums again, spurting it all over your hand and onto your clothes, but you paid no mind, only moving your hand even faster.

you tilted your head as you watched dottore crumble in your hands. he was so fun to mess with, so easily broken, such a slut for anything you do to him and his body. you tutted, your other hand cupping his cheek, affectionately caressing it, and he sobs.

"or perhaps i'll merely settle with milking dottore dry." your eyes sparkle when he leans his head onto your hand, his drool pooling onto your palm. his eyes screamed yes! more, please! at you, and you laughed, pressing a loving kiss on his forehead. "it's a more fun solution, is it not? don't worry, my love, i'll take good care of you.

end of audio log #42."

#» asmo's writings #» dottore #» 📺 anon #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #sub dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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