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multiversefanfics · 3 days

Text

You left

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader(Past relationship)- Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader(not a full on relationship but friends with benefits type thing with hidden feelings?) Warning: SMUT 18+‼️Oral (F receiving p in v) ,cussing, mention of sex, angst Summary: After Thanos snapped half of humanity out of existence, then fighting like hell to get them back just for him to leave anyway. A/N: It still irritates me that Steve left everyone behind for Peggy, this fic is for people who are also irritated about Steve leaving, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it too. this is a short one, well my opinion of short😂 Past in Italics

"Steve, you promised. You told me there was nothing to worry about and that you loved me and only me." He sighed and placed his hand on your shoulder "I do love you, but I love her too. I can't just ignore it; she is the love of my life." By now tears were streaming down your face, you couldn't believe what you were hearing you thought Steve was someone you could trust. You took a step back, staring deep into his eyes. "Steve..." Was all you could manage to get out between sobs, and you shrugged his hand off your shoulder "I can't believe you right now, after everything you are willing to just throw away 6 years together." Steve rubbed his face and when he removed his hands you could see his facial expression was different "I have to! When I saw her again, it brought back everything I missed out on.” His sudden change of volume made you flinch, he apologized and told you he loved you, but his words meant nothing because he still went back to Peggy leaving you behind to try and move on while he lived out his dream.

You and Steve were in love, even though in the back of your mind the same name kept popping up Peggy Carter. Although he tells you every chance, he can that he loves you and only you, you can’t help but feel like a consolation prize. You loved Steve he was your favorite person in the world, you would be lost without him, but you don't know if he felt the same way about you sometimes. He told you over and over that he loved you and he would never do anything to hurt you, and then he did it. He left. He left you to go back to Peggy. After all the fighting to bring everyone back, all the moments you shared, everything. He just left like it was nothing. It took a while for you to move on and find your happiness, it wasn't easy, but you did it and you were successful. Something unexpected happened that caused you to rethink everything.

It's been 3 years since Steve left and you're single and still not ready to mingle and that's fine no one is rushing, and you're not really interested in anyone, you're just having some fun. You and Bucky were sitting on the couch, your legs over his lap while he rubbed your calf after you pretended to have a cramp "Is your cramp gone?" You giggled a bit "I never had a cramp I just wanted you to rub my legs" Bucky groaned and smacked your shin, leaning back and looking at the TV. "Why did you stop" You whined rubbing your leg against his hand "Because you tricked me" He looked over at you while you made puppy dog eyes at him, he rolled his eyes and started rubbing your legs again, you smiled to yourself and started watching TV again. Sam strolled into the living room, plopping down beside you "Well aren't you two cozy" You hit him with a pillow not taking your eyes off the screen "Why don't you mind your business." Bucky retorted earning a deep chuckle from Sam "It's cute that's all." You saw Sam shift awkwardly out of the corner of your eye, you sat up and looked at him "What's wrong?" Sam looked over at you and raised an eyebrow "What are you talking about?" You studied his face "You never adjust yourself. unless you're nervous about something. Out with it."

Sam sighed and just as he was about to answer you heard the front door open, everyone turned their attention to the door, and in walks Steve. You sat there frozen unable to utter a single word, Bucky got up and did one of those man hugs with him and Sam followed suit, while you sat there still frozen trying to figure out if he was real or if you were dreaming. It was real, no matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t. He was standing right in front of you staring deep into your eyes waiting for you to say something. Anything. You cleared your throat and stood up joining the group “Hi...” Steve smiled at you, God you missed that smile, but then you remembered that smile belonged to Peggy. "Hey, Y/N how are you?" Is he really going to pretend that everything is, okay? Like he didn’t just leave you behind “I’m good, how are you here?” He sighed and looked around “Why don’t we sit down, and I can explain.”

Everyone nodded and went to sit on the couch, you sat closest to Bucky laying your head on his shoulder, you weren't doing it to spite Steve or anything, Bucky was your only source of comfort, but you could see in Steve's eyes he didn't like that. His best friend and his ex-girlfriend? Together? The thing is you guys weren't really together you two just leaned on each other when one of you needed it, or when aggression or stress needed to be released. Maybe you had feelings for Bucky but never expressed them.

Steve took a deep breath trying to compose himself "Stark visited me and said there was much to be done here so, he and Scott pulled me back, and I'm here to help." Bucky felt you tense up and although he knew what he was about to do would rub Steve the wrong way, he needed to comfort you instead of having to deal with Steve's feelings when he was the one who left. He rested his hand on your knee rubbing his thumb over your kneecap, it was hard for Steve to concentrate let alone talk so he cut it short "I'm here to stay and help with whatever you guys need help with." Everyone nodded and started to go their separate ways. "Hey, Y/N can I speak with you?" You looked back at Steve and nodded "Sure, what's up?" You stood in front of Steve who was awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck "So are you and Bucky... Like together?" You shook your head "No, but when you left, he was the only one there for me and provided comfort when I needed it. We weren't trying to hurt you earlier; he just knew I was tense and tried to calm me down."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath "Do you have feelings for him?" You were taken aback, why is he asking these questions, was he judging you for how you repaired yourself? "I don't think that's any of your business anymore." You rolled your eyes and went to walk away. “Wait, Y/N there’s more I need to tell you. I figured it would be easier coming from me.” You turned to face him again, he took a deep breath. You’ve never seen Steve so nervous before “Peggy is here too.” Your breath hitched and you nodded slowly “Is that all?” He nodded and you walked away. You wish you could be happy for him but he left you behind. ‘He left’ kept echoing in your head

You and Bucky were lying on your bed, his head lying between your legs on top of your stomach, you aimlessly played with his hair while he talked about something Sam did, you weren't really paying attention you were too busy thinking about the questions Steve was asking. "So, I was thinking of shaving my head and getting a skull tattoo." Your head snapped in his direction "What?!" He chuckled "What's on your mind?" You sighed and stared at the ceiling "Is it Steve?" You heard the sadness in his voice, it wasn't what he thought, you didn't want to get back with Steve it was just the questions he asked. You took a deep breath "It's not that I want to get back with him, he was just asking questions about us and asked if I had feelings for you." Bucky turned on his side and looked up at you "And you told him that it was none of his business, right?"

You nodded and looked down at him "Does he know we had sex?" You shook your head and sat up "No, I didn't tell him we had sex I didn't think he would want to hear 'Hey Steve, I'm having sex with your best friend, welcome back.' Kinda sounds a little messed up." Bucky let out a hearty laugh "You got a point." Bucky looked down between your legs then back at you “Speaking of sex.” He leaned down and gently kissed your thigh, you looked down at Bucky as he left several soft kisses up and down your thighs. You shutter under his touch “Bucky, is now really a good time?” He dragged the tip of his tongue down the inside of your thigh not breaking eye contact with you. “If you want, I’ll stop.” You wanted nothing more than for him to devour you and help you relieve your stress.

You bit your bottom lip and nodded slightly at him; he pulled your underwear to the side and instantly latched onto your clit sucking gently. Over the years Bucky learned what your body wanted, how you wanted, and especially what drove you crazy and that was his tongue. To him, it was just a tongue but to you, it was the best thing in the world. Bucky moaned against your skin sending vibrations straight to your clit, which made you moan out his name. Bucky knew the effect he had on you and used it to his advantage. Your fingers found their way to his hair tugging slightly as he swirled his tongue all around your throbbing wet pussy, you arched your back and spread your legs farther to give him more access. You felt your orgasm creeping up, you began rolling your hips against his face “B-Buck, I’m close.” As soon as he heard those words he latched onto your clit this time sucking a little harder than before, you cried out in pleasure before releasing all of your juices onto his face.

You laid there breathless as he sucked up all the juice until every last drop was gone. “Y/N, you okay?” You lazily nodded and watched as he crawled up beside you, you kicked off your underwear and got on your knees while pulling his boxers down, you wanted nothing more than to climb on top and feel his dick stretch you out. You watched his dick bounce back from his waistband, you licked your lips and took his dick in your hand slowly pumping up and down. As much as you love to tease him you really didn’t want to waste any time, you took his entire length in your mouth, choking a bit until you started to breathe through your nose, you bobbed your head up and down earning a low growl from Bucky, you looked up and saw him watching you. You smirked and pulled back swirling your tongue around his tip.

Bucky reached down and grabbed you by the throat pulling you up to his face so he could kiss you, there was something different about the kiss but you didn’t care you kissed him back. You reached down between his legs and slowly sat down on his dick, as soon as it entered he flipped you on your back and started thrusting roughly into you. Bucky was always rough with you and you loved every minute of it mainly because it was him. His hand still on your throat, he used his vibranium hand to make small circles on your clit, this sent you into overdrive. “B-Bucky” You managed to moan out between gasps, Bucky’s thrusts got sloppier and slower as he tried not to cum so fast, he wanted to savor the moment, just then there was a knock at the door “Uh, just a minute.”

But they didn’t listen and walked in anyway. It was Steve “Buck, I have to- Woah, uh I’m sorry… Y/N?” You mentally smacked yourself putting your hands over your face, mumbling ‘fuck’. Bucky looked down at you then back at Steve “Uh, Steve, could you give me a minute.” Steve was so angry that it literally looked like steam was coming out of his ears, he nodded and slammed the door behind him, Bucky looked down at you “So, where were we?” You rolled your eyes and pushed him off of you “Are you kidding me right now? We just got caught by your best friend and my ex. Do you not realize how that looks?” Bucky stood up putting sweatpants on “It looks like his ex girlfriend moved on after he left her for someone else.” As much as the comment hurt he was right. Steve has no right to be mad when he left you, you sighed and mumbled “You’re right…” Bucky looked at you wide eyed “I’m what?” A smile spread across your lips “I’m not saying it again.”

You felt so bad but at the same time, he left you and he has Peggy, he has no right to be mad. You finished getting dressed and headed to meet Bucky and Sam in the living room, you stopped in your tracks when you heard Sam tell them to calm down “Calm down? I just walked in on Bucky and Y/N having sex!” You peeked your head around the corner and saw Steve pacing in front of Bucky, fuming. “You can’t be mad at how she decided to repair what you broke.” Steve stopped in his tracks and looked at Bucky “What I broke? You are my best friend!” You don’t have to see Bucky’s face to know how red it was “You left us! You went back for Peggy you didn’t think about your ‘best friend’ or ‘girlfriend’ when you decided to go back to her.” You leaned your back against the wall sighing quietly maybe it was time to defend yourself. “Hi, you must be Y/N” You flinched and looked at where the voice was coming from and there she was, Peggy Carter.

She was even more gorgeous than you imagined, more than the picture Steve carried around when you two were together “Uh, yeah hi I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled sweetly at you and shook your hand “What are they yelling about?” You pointed to yourself “Steve walked in on Bucky and I being… intimate” She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow “Let’s go be a part of this conversation, shall we.” You nodded and walked into the living room with her. Steve’s eyes widened as you both came around the couch and sat on it “Please, gentlemen continue. Pretend like we’re not even here.” You couldn’t tell if she was pissed off or not her calm tone threw you off. You looked at Bucky and frowned, he leaned over and whispered in your ear “It’s okay, doll.” You heard Steve scoff which caused everyone to look at him “I can’t believe you two.” Peggy chuckled and looked Steve in his eyes "I can't believe you, why do you care what she does?" The next words out of Steve's mouth shocked everyone.

"Because I am still in love with her!"

Main Masterlist - Steve Rogers Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist

A/N: I dont know if there will be a part 2. I haven't thought that far yet but, I hope you like it. feedback is much appreciated if anyone wants to be tagged in future fics please message me or leave and ask on what you want to be tagged in or if you want to be tagged in everything.

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @kandis-mom

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

#avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic

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kingkatsuki · 2 days

Text

— appreciative

I just know quickies are IMPOSSIBLE with Togame, okay?

Pairing: Togame Jou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dirty talk, assplay, spit, spanking, mirror sex, creampie, not proofread.

Word Count: 2.4k.

“We don’t have time.” You mutter when you feel Togame’s arms circle around your waist inside your tiny bathroom, his lips quick to pepper kisses against the curve of your jaw as you try to shrug your shoulder and tilt your head to the side to avoid his assault, “You’re the one that planned this dinner.”

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Togame drawls, his fingers already finding their way beneath the hem of your skirt as you’re forced to decide on whether to block his hands from reaching their destination or his lips from ruining your freshly applied lipgloss, “We don’t have to be there for at least another thirty.”

“You and I both know you can not be quick.” You glare at him through the bathroom mirror as he hides his smirk against the column of your neck, teeth pinching the supple skin as you fight the urge to angle your head to give him more space.

“I thought you enjoyed how much time I put into pleasing you, sweetheart,” Togame murmured, taking the opportunity to delve beneath the short hem of your skirt.

“That’s why we need at least an hour.” You huff, placing your tube of lipgloss on the counter as you hold onto the surface in an attempt to push back and escape his clutches.

“You should be glad I’m not a two-pump chump,” He laughs at his joke, strong arms tightening around your frame as he pins you against the counter, “It seems like a waste if I don’t have time to appreciate you.”

“You can appreciate me when we get home later,” You scoff, trying to ignore the slender fingers that now trace against the delicate lace of your panties.

“That’s way too long when I need you right now.” Each word that leaves his lips is articulate and thoughtful. His lips smooth over every syllable as he speaks them slowly and with purpose.

Togame catches you by surprise as he cups your sex, feeling the heat radiate through the flimsy fabric of your panties as you find yourself grinding against him. The curve of your ass presses against his crotch as you feel his want and desire for you. The rough press of his bulge is firm and constant as your body betrays you, chipping away at your restraint as you find yourself grinding back against him. The friction pulls a deep, raspy groan from the back of his throat as he reaches up to palm one of your clothed breasts.

“Fuck,” He hums, already feeling your resolve dissolve into nothing as he lets his fingers slip beneath the damp fabric, parting your folds as he drags thick digits through your messy slick.

“Jou,” You try again, but it’s futile. The sound leaves your lips in more of a moan than a command, the final nail in your coffin as he finds your puffy clit.

“There you go,” He hums, circling it with purpose as you continue to rock your ass against the bulge beneath his sweatpants, “Knew you wanted it, sweetheart. Look at you—”

He meets your gaze in the mirror and it’s debauched, his lazy eyes stare back at you as he mouths your pulse point. His tongue salves the skin as you feel your palms tighten against the side of the counter.

“Five minutes.” You offer to placate him, pretending that it’s not the unbridled desire that ebbs away at your resolve or the way Togame’s fingers press against your clit so meticulously.

He already knows he’s won.

“Whatever you say, baby.” He coos, pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck before he steps back to move onto his knees.

“Jou, you literally just said five minutes—”

“You said.” He hums, dragging your panties down with him as he settles himself behind you.

“This won’t take five minutes.” You don’t even listen to his rebuttal as you rant, “You said you— oh,”

Togame makes you forget everything in an instant as he holds your upper thighs, his calloused thumbs spread your ass apart as he licks a long swipe through your messy folds. The words catch on your tongue as you arch your back, giving him more space as he drags his tongue from your fluttering hole to your clit, flicking it gently as you writhe against the counter.

“Fuck,” You whine as the lewd sounds fill the small bathroom, echoing off the walls as he slurps at your cunt. His pace is firm and constant as he dips the tip of his tongue inside you, lashing against your inner walls as all you can do is grind yourself against his face.

“I could do this for hours.” He goads, positive he’s trying to get a rise from you whilst at the same time Togame has proved the statement to be true. You’ve lost count of the number of times the man had you coming undone on his tongue, the time spent taking such meticulous care of you as he made a mess of you.

“Well, you have four minutes now—” You break off into another sultry moan when he lay the flat of his tongue against your needy clit, moving his hands to the fat of your ass to open you up more for him.

“You talk too much, sweetheart.” Togame grins, and before you have a chance to shoot back a cocky retort he closes his lips around your sensitive clit and sucks hard, “Turn that pretty little head off and stop thinkin’.”

Your legs buckle at the motion, thankful to Togame’s strong hands for keeping you pinned against the counter as you lean forward onto your forearms. Your forehead is almost pressed against the mirror as you feel the pressure inside you continue to grow, chipping away at any final embers of restraint that burned inside you before Togame turned them to ash.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasp when Togame pushes two fingers inside you without warning. The sudden stretch has you bucking your hips as he immediately curls them towards the spot he knows better than the back of his hand. Focusing his ministrations as he lashes his tongue against your needy clit, “I’m gonna cum.”

You warn him, but Togame already knows. With the way you tremble around him to the way your thighs quiver as you struggle to stand, keeping his pace as he pumps his fingers with precision and his tongue remains constant against your clit.

Togame hums softly, the vibrations pulsing around the sensitive nub and it’s all it takes for the dam inside you to rupture as you swan dive directly into bliss. A desperate, elongated cry of his name leaves your lips as he helps you ride out your release. His fingers maintain their consistent pace as he presses a few more lingering kisses to your clit, lapping up the mess he made as he tastes you on his tongue. Thoroughly satisfied with your response as he pulls out of your fluttering hole, greedily sucking his fingers between his lips to clean them of your essence as he moves to stand.

You want nothing more than to wipe the cocky smirk off his face when you look up at him through your reflection in the mirror, feeling a wetness against your skin as he wipes his spit-soaked fingers against your ass.

But before you even have a second to turn your head to tell him off he’s already canting his hips forward to bury his hard cock inside your warm, wet hole.

The words you want to say catch on the tip of your tongue as you feel impossibly full. The stretch creates a pleasurable ache that resonates in your pelvis as you feel his blunt cockhead graze your cervix, the position gives him the perfect chance to feel every inch of you as he flexes his hands on your hips. Reaching down to give your ass a playful swat before starting a languid pace with absolutely no sense of urgency.

“Jou,” You whine, barely able to hold your head up as you meet his gaze in your reflection, “Hurry up.”

“There’s no sense wasting an opportunity when I’ve got you like this, babe,” He drawls, “I mean, look how pretty you look.”

He keeps your skirt bunched at your hips so he can see his cock disappear inside your greedy hole, the length glistening with your slick as he continues fucking into you. He’d spend every waking second of the day buried inside your tight heat if he could, certain nothing could ever compare to the sensation of you clamping down around him.

“We’re definitely gonna be late.” You mention the time again, and it has Togame locking his jaw in irritation as he slows his pace even more.

“Yeah, but now you’re suitably fucked.” You have no idea how he manages to exercise such restraint as he keeps his slow, steady pace. Each forward motion is pronounced with a rough rut of his hips to ensure his tip hits as deep as possible every time.

“You’ve got the most perfect pussy,” Togame groans, snapping his hips forward to bury himself inside you to the hilt before stilling, just to feel the way your walls clench around him, “She sucks me in every time.”

It’s practically torture when he pauses, your body craving that euphoria of relief as you begin to grind your hips back into him. Setting a steady pace as you push back from the counter to fuck yourself on his cock.

“Oh, fuck.” Togame grunts as he watches you use his cock for your own pleasure. Backing yourself up on his length as he curves his back to watch you do all the work, marvelling at the way your ass bounces against his hips with each messy thrust.

“Jou,” You whine as you look at your reflection to see him shamelessly staring down at where your bodies are connected as though he’s found the meaning to life itself, “Move.”

“So bossy,” He pretends to sigh before taking hold of your hips as he starts a rough pace. Calloused pads dig into your skin as he fucks into you with vigour, a pace foreign to him outside these intimate moments as Togame works you towards your climax.

You try to meet his movements, but it’s all in vain as you’re pressed harder against the counter. Your thighs dig into the hard surface uncomfortably, but you disregard the ache in favour of the harsh throb of pleasure that builds in your pelvis. Your forehead is pressed against the cool glass as he can’t resist sliding his hand against your ass to thumb at your fluttering asshole.

“You gonna cum for me, sweet girl?” Togame hums, leaning forward to spit on your asshole as the thick glob lands on your coccyx. His thumb is quick to catch it as he smears it against you, pressing the pad of his finger against your rim to test the resistance. His lips curl into a smug grin as he watches you take him to the first knuckle as he hooks his thumb inside you. The stretch only heightens your pleasure as you feel the coil inside you close to snapping, your toes curl against the cool tile as you find yourself dancing on the edge of your release, “You always get close when I shove a finger on your ass.”

Togame’s words are so blunt and crude that they have a sultry whine spilling from your lips as you clamp down around him. You chance a glance at him and see his throat on full display as he throws his head back in sheer pleasure.

“Oh, you clenched so hard when I said that baby— fuck.” He groans, his balls hot and heavy as they knock against your clit with each forward motion.

You can’t hold back as you find yourself finally surrendering to the white-hot pleasure that courses through you. Crying out his name as you tumble headfirst into your bliss, trying to blink back the tears that gather in your lashes so you can watch Togame through the reflection.

“Shit, baby— that’s it,” He uncharacteristically rambles as he watches you come undone. Both your holes clamp down around him roughly as he has to fight to drag his cock in and out of your stretched hole, “Cum on my cock.”

It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts before Togame is following you into euphoria. Burying himself inside you to the hilt as he pumps wet, hot spurts of cum inside your eager hole, filling you to the brim as he stays buried inside you.

You whine when he finally pulls out, his half-hard cock still wet and heady as he leans over your body to press a sloppy kiss against your cheek. The other is still pressed against the cool mirror as the pleasure still makes you dumb, a pleasurable fire burns between your thighs from the feel of him stretching you out and it’s enough to make you whine when Togame presses another lingering kiss against the curve of your lips, tilting your head for him to give you another as he laughs softly. The wetness of his cock leaves streaks against your ass as he shamelessly lets it droop on top of you.

“You said you’d be quick,” You murmur as you feel Togame’s cum slowly start to drool from your spent hole and trickle down your inner thighs, “That was not five minutes.”

“There’s no way in this world that I could ever appreciate you in just five minutes, baby,” Togame grins, giving your ass a playful smack as more of his cum leaks from your hole, “What’s the rush?”

“We’ve definitely missed dinner.” You glare at your boyfriend as he helps you stand back upright, his chest tight against you as he nuzzles your neck softly.

“So now I have all the time in the world to appreciate you some more?”

#togame jo x reader #togame jo smut #Togame Jou x reader #Togame jou smut #jo togame x reader #jo togame smut #jou togame x reader #jou togame smut #wind breaker smut #wind breaker x reader

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januaryembrs · 1 day

Note

tea!! anything bugsy and spencer

the one with the surfboard | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

description: there's only one person who could ever get Spencer Reid in the ocean and that's Bugsy

length: 1.6k

warnings: mention of sex, swearing, Penelope and Reid being thirsty for Morgan and bugsy. Pen calls Derek chocolate thunder but this is nothing new! set at beginning of season six.

part of the trouble almost all my life universe

Spencer settled his feet into the warm sand, trying his hardest to make sure the grain didn’t stick to the thick layer of suncream he’d applied not even five minute earlier, his sunglasses hanging on his nose as he watched Morgan and Bugsy hit a ball to one another over an invisible volleyball net.

“You not going to take a swim, pretty boy?” Emily asked, basking on her back in a red bikini, soaking up the sun they rarely got so clearly stuck in their office. His face scrunched up, shaking his head until he remembered Emily had her eyes closed, and it only took one look at where JJ was laying incredibly still to know she’d already dozed off on the sun lounger.

“One litre of ocean water has about one billion microbes of bacteria and around ten billion viruses, so,” He shuddered, his lithe fingers gripping the arms of the chair as he tried not to think about every single one of them entering his mouth if he were to even get close enough it could spray on his face, “No thankyou,”

“Not even if Bugsy asked you?” Penelope pointed out, a sex on the beach she’d ordered with a giggle and a ‘if Morgan gets lucky.’

His lips twitched, feeling his neck grow hot in a way he told himself was just the sun, and he glanced at the technical analyst with something fleeting, “She did ask me, I told her the exact same thing I’m telling you guys,”

“And?” Emily asked, sensing that hadn’t been the end of the conversation because her sister knew exactly how to get her way when it came to men, Spencer specifically.

Rubbing under his nose with his knuckle, Spencer downcast his eyes to the beer Bug had handed him, sand sticking to the green, frosted glass as the liquid bubbled freshly inside the bottle, “She said I owed her an hour of fun,”

Penelope’s face lit up at the innuendo of it, nudging him lightly with her shoulder, “Hell yeah, you’re such a stud, Reid. An hour?”

Emily winced in grotesque, “That’s my sister you’re talking about there, Pen. A sister is very much present here,”

The blonde shrugged, sipping through her pineapple decorated straw, “Not my fault you have a hot sister, Prentiss,”

“Can we stop talking about this? Please?” Spencer floundered, his fingers wrapping over the edge of the seat, his jaw tensing as the words hot, hot, hot, smeared all over his brain like a stamp. And everything he’d tried to deny for months bit at his neck so much so he was quickly fiddling with his shirt collar.

“Agreed,” Emily seconded, taking a long drink of her mojito, and Penelope saw it as a chance to lean in close to him, a smirk on her clementine scented lips.

“Don’t you think watching the two of them play together is like something out of Baywatch,” She murmured, her eyes locking on the two agents that seemed to be on their longest streak yet judging by all the laughing and shouting going on in between hits.

Spencer had never tuned into Baywatch, nor did he have any intention of doing so. But he did have to admit that watching Bugsy jump around in the ocean, her hair clasped back in a claw clip away from her face, her skin practically glowing from the vitamin D both on her face and on her obscenely beautiful body that was free to see in those bikini shorts and mini top, was more captivating than any tv show he could imagine.

He swallowed, shaking his head, “I think you spend too much time with Derek,”

Penelope held her chest in mock offence, her glass empty in her hand as she looked at him with teasing eyes, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Reid. There’s no such thing as too much chocolate thunder time.”

Spencer smirked, chuckling to himself and he barely even noticed the two people that were the hot topic of conversation had left the sea until a plastic, bouncy ball went hurtling at Emily’s forehead and rebounded clear off her hairline.

“FUCK,” The woman cursed, opening her eyes where a few rogue droplets of sea water dribbled down her cheek, her peace and serenity completely wiped away where her little sister stood with a hidden smirk, Derek biting his knuckle to hide his laugh, “You fucker, what was that for?”

“Just making sure you hadn’t cooked alive, you looked very still,” Bugsy held her hands up in innocence, even though Emily stood with a vengeance, rolling her eyes at the cheeky grin she got back.

Emily muttered something about her being a childish shrew, before she huffed, shoving past her sister and heading towards the beachfront bar, Derek and Penelope in tow. Which left the two of them, and a sleeping JJ, on their tiny corner of the beach.

“You sure you don’t want to come in?” Bugsy asked, trails of salt water sliding off her hair and down her stomach, the sight of them making Spencer’s mouth dryer than the sand beneath them, “I saw a jellyfish, or at least I think it was, it may have been a condom,” Spencer gagged inside his mouth with an incredulous look on his face, and she chuckled, dropping the ball to his feet, “Relax, I’m kidding. I’m going back in if you want to join, promise I won’t splash you or nothing,”

“I’m good, you go have fun with your new pal; the condom,” He said with a grossed out pull of his lips, though he smiled when she did and she grabbed the surfboard stuck in the ground beside him, trotting off back towards the ocean, “Remember to reapply soon!” He called, and she flicked a look over her shoulder.

“You're as bad as Emily,” She yelled back, taking off towards the waves with a chuckle, the sea breeze blowing tiny shrapnels of sand against her calves.

Spencer shamefully felt his eyes drop to her butt, and as fast as he did, he looked away, because that was supposed to be his best friend. She’d certainly never made it seem like they were going to be anything else. Perverts watched pretty girls running, perverts watched how their skin lit up with the rays of lights bouncing off the water and their hips swung with every step, and he wasn’t a pervert.

He was just… human. And who could ever resist her.

He watched the sea spraying out beneath her feet as she ran right in, and she waded out deep enough that he lost sight of her stomach, the board skirting the surface of the water for a moment.

She was possibly the coolest person he’d ever met, and she was his best friend.

He watched her hop up onto her stomach, keeping an eye on the horizon for a big enough wave rolling in. Deciding on an incoming ripple gradually gaining traction, she paddled out towards it, her arms strong and focused from what he could see where he was sat, nursing his bottle of beer.

“Baby Prentiss got moves,” Morgan whistled as they returned back with drinks cold enough Spencer saw the condensation gathering on the glass already, though that was the only time he actually tore his eyes away from her as she got further away from the safety of land, the black band attaching her ankle to the board the only thing he could really see of her.

“She talked some bar boy into teaching her the Summer she spent in Mexico with my mom,” Emily shook her head as they watched her jump up into a steady stand, the rip gathering under her surfboard and soon she was floating over the water, the concentration evident on her face as she held her arms out to balance.

She went a few more times, the group settling into the quiet they had whenever she was busy, because she was not exactly known for her calm nature, yet Spencer’s eyes were the only ones glued to her figure the entire time, ever the worrier when it came to her daredevil side.

And it was like he was watching it in slow motion; on her fifth turn riding a particularly quick rip her balance got thrown off. Nothing serious, it was only a few ten yards out offshore, and she was a strong swimmer, he’d seen it. She quickly lowered herself back into a straddled sit, only for the wave to gain traction before it fizzled out, crashing into the side of her board right as she was about to take a breath, and he watched her flip sidewards into the water, the tide bringing her close enough he knew she’d be able to stand.

But she didn’t come up for a few moments, and it was enough that Spencer was out of his seat, taking off jogging towards the ocean, every statistic that had been whizzing through that big brain of his about how filthy the water was suddenly evaporating as he watched her throw a hand up to the surface, her board skirting above her being the only pointer for him where to go.

By the time he made it over to her, he was knee deep before he thought of the consequences, the cold hitting him like a freight train, and she was already dragging herself towards land on her hands and knees, her hair stuck to her face, her claw clip ripped out by the current.

“Are you okay?” He asked, but she didn’t respond, only to cough up sea water with a screwed up expression that told him just how horrible it tasted.

“I need a beer,” She wheezed, as he lifted his hands under her arms, tugging her to her feet, his entire torso getting drenched as she clung onto him for safety, still spluttering ocean out of her lungs.

And he shook his head with a smile, brushing her hair back enough for her to see, her eyes sore and red with angry blood vessels where he imagined it stung to get the salty water in them, and all but dragged her back up the rest of the beach where Derek and Emily were laughing at her fail so hard they’d woken JJ up.

“Yasmine Bleeth never ate seawater, Bug, what happened?” Morgan jeered, earning him a middle finger to the face as Penelope offered her a nice big gulp of a margarita to clear her taste buds.

And for the first time all day, Spencer wasn’t even thinking about how much bacteria was all over his skin if it meant she was alright.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader

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xxaraaq · 3 days

Text

𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨

Synopsis | Nanami finds out what he's been missing for the better part of his adult life

wc | 0.5k

cw | Infidelity, age gap, porn with a little plot

Nanami x black! Reader

A/N | Nothing really, hope you enjoy!

No one can blame him for the choices he’s made. He’s only a man, and a man has his limits.

He’s done everything he can in his life to make sure he can say he’s done what was expected of him. He has a stable nine to five, white collar job that he loathes but still performs great at, he takes care of his stay at home wife, and everything else that he’s supposed to do.

But it’s not enough.

There was something missing. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but day by day he dragged himself around until the day was done. He thought he was depressed at first, almost booking a therapy appointment, but he realized that he was lacking an essential part of life; something that every human being needs to stay sane.

Pleasure.

The realization hit him like a truck, his life was so boring because he had none – nothing to look forward to when he went home, nothing to look forward to when he woke up. Nothing. Even having sex with his wife was mediocre at best. His days were dull at best and straight up dreadful at worst, simply because he was the lacking excitement needed in one’s life.

Until he met you.

A pretty, young college student who recently started working in the cafe he frequented. All sunshine and rainbows, you never failed to greet him with a smile and a wave. He started to look forward to seeing your beaming grin every morning, even occasionally returning a smile. You were the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and he had to have you.

It was late when he came, to your surprise. He told you that he was working late in the office,

and decided to come by for a short break. You made him his usual black coffee, which you thought was weird, and the two of you talked – well, mostly you – about everything and nothing.

He was getting drunk off you, your voice lulling him into something he couldn’t describe. He didn’t know what came over him, but he leaned in and kissed you, catching the both of you off guard.

“I- I apologize, I don’t know what came over me.” He backs up, but you pull him in by the collar, crashing your lips onto his once more. His hands grab your waist, pulling you flush against him. He knows it’s wrong, that the right thing to do is stop and pretend it never happened, but he wont; he can't. He needs this, he deserves it, and he’s not going to let a little bit of remorse stop him from fucking you until you can’t take anymore.

It’s sinful really, the way he picks you up and fucks you against the wall. He would expect this from someone like Gojo, but the thought soon leaves his mind once he hears those beautiful moans he’s dreamt so often about.

You scratch at his back, begging him to slow down, but that only stirs to go faster. He fucks into you with a fervor he doesn’t think he’s felt before.

He pulls out and cums on your sweaty torso, panting as he slowly lets you back on the ground. The two of you clean up without a word and he heads home after placing a kiss on your temple. For the first time in years, he walks home with something to look forward to in the morning.

-Nene

#nene #x black reader #x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x black reader #nanami x black reader smut

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itstheghostofmypast · 1 day

Text

Winter of Woe

Idol Park Seonghwa x (F)Reader

Summary: Winter had always left him cold and bitter, sprint had always been his season, yet, when it became too much, his spring had decided to walk back into his life, on that cold, dark winter night

Genre: Angst/ Comfort (kinda open-ended?)

Warnings: None

Ratings: SFW

Word Count: 2.5K

Est.Read Time: 12 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Winter was never one of his favourite seasons, yet, it was one of the seasons that would help him numb out anything that dared to bother him. The nights would fall too early, and the sky would never be a shade of pastel so pretty, but a blanket of grey loomed over them, over him. The nights would be long, would be cold and eerily silent, quiet enough for the unspoken words of his to resurface, wrapping around his torso, slowly squeezing the life out of him- but the nights would be chilly, freezing and cold, enough to paralyse the words, mute them out by the chattering of his teeth, pricking his bones that were covered in flesh and supposedly warm wool.

The nights were welcoming enough to give him the solitude he needed after a tiring day, a tiring session of socialising, of smiling, pretending everything was as it was supposed to be, as it should have been- or so he had begun to tell himself more often than he would like to admit. Perhaps this started as soon as their break was announced, where all had chosen to retreat to their little dens, their homes, cosy and warm, yet, he had decided to stay behind, wanting to remain in isolation, away from his loved ones. Perhaps it was an act of redemption, of punishing himself, of constantly reminding himself of his past regrets, his mistakes, his anger, his repressed hatred towards himself, his-

"Hwa?"

The faint voice of an angel rang through his ears like church bells, it had been a while since he had the honour of hearing the voice of his- no, not his, she was no longer his angel, he had made sure of that, perhaps that is why he felt so bitter towards this season, he had left her cold and shivering with the chill.

"Hey..." his whisper morphing into a puff, floating between the two as he stared down at her, drinking in her appearance, eyes roaming her face like a map learnt by heart, taking in her essence, her being.

"How have you been?" She smiled, pulling down her mask and moving a cup of coffee closer to him, "Here."

"I'm better..." he sighed, only to pause and stare at the coffee, eyes flickering back up to her, somewhat disturbed about how she was easily pretending as if nothing had happened, though he was conflicted, maybe this was better than her bringing up the past, but was she following him? Or perhaps this coffee was-

"Better is good, Hwa... oh the coffee- I got stood up.... shouldn’t have bought the coffee while waiting for him." She cleared her throat, before averting her gaze, arm still extended as she offered him the second cup. Honestly, she was already down in the dumps, rejections were never easy, break ups were even worse -she'd know- but being stood up was like you failed to pass a test, so unworthy that no one could even spare a glance at you, so if he were to reject the coffee right now, she probably would break down right in front of him.

"Thanks..."

The brush of his cold fingertips sent a shiver down her spine, her eyes flickering up to meet his, staring up at him with some form of admiration, one that he did not believe he deserved- after all those years, he was still the same, the same coward who was too afraid to love her, the same hideous being who was unworthy of her, the same man who she had devoted all her love to, yet he had decided to let go of her hand when the times got a bit too rough.

"You've grown prettier." She sighed, a gentle smile gracing her features as she walked beside him, the crunch of the snow beneath their boots constantly reminding him to take the next step beside her. Her words hung between them, perhaps a dead weight, perhaps the deceased memories of them together- maybe she shouldn't have called him out. Maybe he wanted to spend time alone, maybe he didn't want to see her again, maybe-

"You should make him pay you back..."

"Huh?" Turning to face him, cup in lap she blinked at his side profile, taking in his beauty, his grace, his masculine charm, as he sat there staring at the coffee in his hands, gripping onto it for his dear life. "What...do you mean?"

"You should...make him pay you back..." Taking another gulp of the warm beverage he sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the bench, wondering why she even bothered to call him out, especially when he was the one to pull away first.

“It's fine…not the first time I’ve been ghosted.”

His eyes shot open at that statement finally turning to meet her tender gaze, one that held no ounce of anger or resentment, but one with a swirling curiosity, and a twinge of woe, but it was enough for him to break eye contact, choosing not to continue, for any moment longer and his resolve may shatter-

“Why…did you do it?”

Her words were gentle, but the impact was worse than being stabbed, the way her hand rested on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze, “I just…I just want to know…if I did something to upset you…you just disappeared.” She had moved a bit closer to him, it had been so long since she had even heard from him, sure, she had heard and seen the content of their group, but him, no- not in person, not like this. She was unsure of what had happened, what had she done for him to slip out of her life like that, for him to show up at her door in the middle of a winter night, much like this one, with swollen eyes and a stuttering tongue, uttering the three words she had never wished to hear, “Let’s break up.”

Truth be told, she had spent the whole night wondering about the possibilities that could have led to this unfortunate scenario, even asked Hongjoong if it was a decision made by the company, to which he had refused, saddened by the news, but he had told her this was a decision his friend had taken on his own. She had tried calling him a few times but he had texted her to not do so anymore, and if there was one thing she had learnt about her lover, it was that he was always very clear with what he wanted, and when he wanted- perhaps, he no longer wanted her?

She would’ve believed that, truly, but something at the back of her mind kept bothering her, perhaps she no longer wanted him back, but felt that she had the right to know what had led a long-term relationship to end poorly- closure, that is what she wanted, that is why she had called him out after years of seeing him, calling him out before she could even think of what to say next, calling him out after another date where she was stood up, calling him out before he could walk away again. This was probably why she sat here, basking in his presence, pleading with him to at least give her a simple liner that she could take as an explanation, “I…I just need to know…what it was, I promise…I’ll leave after…Hwa.”

“How could I love someone, when I couldn’t even love myself.”

The world around them had come to a standstill, silent as the calm sea, cold as the ice, as heavy as the heart of a widow, the two stared at each other; confused, conflicted, angry, upset and…in love. For the first time now, he had looked at her properly, had given her a proper reaction, and shown her the bits that he’d often hide, the bits that made him human, the bits that made him, her Hwa. From the way his bottom lip quivered to the way his eyes teared up at her, face contorting as if he were in pain- he was- and for some melancholic, sadistic reason, it made her frail heart flutter, her heart giggling in joy to see him like this, not in spite, no, never, but in the aspiration of there being traces of love with the empty confines of his heart, hidden in the cracks, asleep in patience and sorrow, waiting for the time it could spill out again.

“Hwa…” her words were soft, cupping his cheek, feeling the warmth of it buzzing against her cold palm, thumb caressing the skin, smearing the wet trail left behind by his tears, sighing as she moved closer, enough for them to be sharing body warm, her thigh pressing against his, coffee long forgotten as she cupped his face with both hands, tilting his face to admire him, “Why didn’t you say so…do you think I wouldn’t have given you space?”

“It’s…not about space.” He hissed, gently gripping her wrists to remove her hands from his face- what was he still fighting? At this point, he wasn’t sure, but he knew, he knew for a fact, that he was not going to let her forgive him so easily. As if he had not just tossed her aside when his own insecurities began to nip a bit too close to home when he knew that even though his own mind was against his being, the person he had given his heart to would carefully hold it in her palm, all warm and snug until he was ready to be let out to the world- no, he did not deserve this, he did not deserve her, “I…did not deserve you, your love…your admiration and sincerity, especially when I was unable to truly reciprocate it with the sincerity that yours held.”

She let him remove her hands, watching him closely, nodding to his words, words that once again hinted about how their ends perhaps may be split by fate, yet, she noticed how his grip on her had tightened, not wanting to let her go, ready to fight fate- maybe this was what he lacked the last time, the will to fight, perhaps because he had given up on himself as well, a dilemma so strong that her presence was merely a representation of the sun, and he, Icarus, knew that his wings could not take him up to her- but what if this time, she came to him? All she asked for in return was to be acknowledged, to be treated not like the holy sun, but the silent listener, the moon, the watcher, the companion on lonesome nights, ever so silent, ever so loyal, ever so loving.

“Do you still feel the same way-” she whispered, only for him to cut her off, letting go of her to furiously rub away any proof of his sorrows and regret, oh how it broke her to see him like this, so confused and in shambles.

“Of course! I don’t deserve you-”

“About yourself, Hwa…do you think you now love yourself enough to share that love with someone else, enough to let someone else love you?” gripping his wrists she pulled his hands away from his face, giving him a squeeze, enough to have him gulping at her, her gentle face, her determined eyes, her confident aura, having his throat parch up at the realization, one that he had buried in the crevices of his heart, burying it with everything he could find, every distraction, every wish, every whim- everything that could never measure up to her, the need of having her in life, the want of her near him. No one had asked him that before, no one had wondered if he now loved himself enough, thought of himself to be important enough to be even considered human, to be considered worthy enough of having his own choices, his own opinions, his own story- no one had asked him if he was his heart had begun to beat for himself, to not only keep him functioning but to keep him alive.

“I…think so…I hope so.” He whispered, unsure of where this was going, honestly, this was too much to take in one go anyway, with her popping up out of the blue, coming to him on a night so long, a night so cold, a night so much like the one on which he had left her broken and confused. He watched her smile at him, staring up at her when she stood up, only he had remained rooted in place, blinking ever so slowly at her, as his guardian angel knelt closer to his sitting form, pressing her warm lips against his cheek, before whispering something to him.

Slowly pulling away she gave him one last smile, caressing his buzzing, warm, soft cheek with her knuckles, making sure to leave him craving for more, wanting more, as he watched her walk away into the night. Watching her walk away into the cold of the night, with her, was her warmth and love, resonating from her being, melting any and everything around her into spring, much like the spring he had confessed to her in, the spring when he was a wee lad on the with one foot into the doorstep of stardom and another in her world, pulling her across with a loving, yet firm grip, making she stood strong on the same ground as he did- only, for him to lose his footing, in the process of which he had unknowingly let go of her hand, letting her slip through his fingers. And when she had reached down to pull him up from the pits of his own defeat and sorrows, he had pulled back, turning away to let it all envelope him in its numbing hold, rather than embracing her warmth and love- perhaps he was afraid her love may melt away the numbness, sprouting out everything that he lay within the frozen layer of his masculinity, or what he once assumed was the definition of masculinity. He watched her till she was out of sight, but not out of mind, she was far in being, but close and well seated within his heart- a new profound emotion coursing through his veins, with fireworks booming within his system as his whole being lit on fire, fingers gripping the paper cup with as tight as he wanted to hold her close to him, letting out a sigh of relief as he felt his mind run on overdrive, constantly repeating her words in his head, leaning back against the bench as he closed his eyes, smiling at the possibility that awaited, not the boy that was too afraid of his own demons to look past them to the angel that stood across, but the man who was ready to push past his demons to finally let his angel save him.

“Then…when you do…and if you do, find it in within you, to love me again, and you feel safe enough to let me…love you, I need you to know I’ll be waiting for you.”

A/N: I cant do angst with a sad endings. Im sorry

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie

@mlysalt @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp

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man-im-so-high · 2 days

Note

kimi writer era i am SEATED.

for the prompts!!!!: “You pretending that cushion is me?”

//EMPTY BED// - m.h. x reader

warnings: none! pure fluff!

w/c: 1k words

a/n: this is my first official blurb!! i'm shitting my pants posting this 💀 ANYWAYS THANKS JAYE FOR BEING MY FIRST REQUEST ILYSM

//masterlist//

the clock kept ticking, driving you mad.

on the one hand whenever there's shitty moments or nothing happening at all, time won't pass - it stretches like gum. on the other hand, the good moments pass way too quickly. time itself is pacing, always.

right now time won't pass though.

you've been alone at matty’s concrete bunker of a home for a month already now. the longer you spend your time here, the more you realize that it's actually quite cozy somehow. everything in itself seems cold and harsh but together it creates some sort of comfortable, relaxing and balanced atmosphere.

but without matty it's once again cold and harsh. it's like the whole house loses its charm when he's not here.

the bed is colder than usual, everything is quiet - no music playing from his vinyl player, no typing on the typewriter, no jamming on his guitar, nothing - there's no smell of pancakes in the kitchen, the bathroom doesn't smell like his perfume and there is no mess. you're surprised that a thing that usually pisses you off has now become something you miss.

so here you are, on his couch, cuddling with a pillow while the TV is on in the background. there's some sort of reality tv show on but you didn't pay attention to it, you just need noise, the feeling of not being alone.

matty is currently on tour in north america. with you having to stay in london, seeing him is nearly impossible. only nearly though, but seeing him on facetime or hearing his voice on a simple call is surprisingly very hard as well.

on his days off it's easier. he's more flexible with his time management when there is no huge concert at night with the sound checks and everything beforehand.

he's currently in new york, playing one of their biggest shows ever tonight. he's excited, you know that. he has been excited for months now, basically ever since he found out that they could play there.

“i can't wait, oh my god. i will literally- explode!”

“on stage?”

“fuck yes i will, just imagine: we play sex and i just explode.”

“twitter would eat that up.”

“right?!”

but he has also been worried.

worried because it's a huge venue, worried because it's being recorded, worried because you're not there to calm his mind.

you glance at the TV - advertising, of course. you peek over at your phone. it's 3:24 am. usually you'd be lying in bed together at this time, cuddling, in deep sleep.

but right now the bed is cold - ice cold - and the cool concrete walls don't make it any better. you love this place but it's not the same without him.

you calculate in your mind. he's in new york, you're in london so the concert must be over by now. thus the waiting continues.

you look back to the tv. the reality tv show is over and now there's some sitcom playing. it's friends! finally, something funny to help you pass time.

a few minutes pass and your phone lights up. 3:31am.

“hey, you awake?”

another text

“concert’s over”

you instantly grab your phone.

“i'm awake! hope you had fun xx”

he quickly answers and asks:

“you wanna ft when i'm at the hotel?”

“of course :))”

finally you decide to turn off the TV and let silence and darkness take over the room. you take the cushion you've been lying on and holding and make your way up to the bedroom.

instantly, you miss matty. he's a living heater - and a comfortable one to say the least.

so when you lay back down, you lay on the cushion as if you were lying on matty's chest. if you squeeze your eyes shut, just enough, then you can almost hear his heartbeat. or maybe it's just your lack of sleep, who knows.

the tiredness comes creeping in, a yawn escapes your lips. in the same moment your phone lights up.

a facetime call by no other than matty.

happily you pick up.

“good morning, sunshine” an exhausted smile on his lips. he's happy to see you but the weariness from performing is evident.

his hair is damp, he probably just came out of the shower.

he's in bed as well, the bedside table lamp illuminating his face with a warm light from the side, throwing soft shadows on his face.

“good night” you tiredly greet him, a smile adorning your face when you see him.

“how was the concert?”

“oh it was great!” he started to ramble about the crowd, how the band harmonized, how the security and the whole team was great and how everything was perfect.

his soft voice and his endless talking could send you to sleep right then and there-

“hey! no sleeping yet! tell me about your day… or night.”

“uh, i didn't do anything special. i just laid around and was on my phone, i watched some TV and laid on this cushion because you're not there.” you point at the cushion that you're currently lying on.

matty seems to recognize the way you're lying on the cushion.

“wait, wait, wait, are you pretending that cushion is me?”

“maybe, i did. but then i had to realize it's a better cuddler than you are.” you tease him.

he laughs at that. “you're just saying that because you already forgot how good i am.”

a loud yawn leaves your mouth.

“is someone getting tired?” he chuckles and grins. you're so cute when you're tired.

“what do you expect? it's late.”

“get some sleep, sleepyhead.”

“can you stay on the phone with me?”

his grin grows even wider, he could melt at your cuteness.

“of course i will.”

a short moment of silence.

“so, what do you want me to do?”

“i don't know, just talk. tell me a story or something.”

and that's what he does. he knows you know all the stories, he loves talking - you love listening. he talks and talks, his voice almost as soft as the cushion you're resting on, slowly lulling you to sleep.

#yes the title is a cavetown reference #because it's pride month #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x oc #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy blurb #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy oneshot #matty healy fanfic #matty healy imagine #matty healy #kimis blurbs

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charliehoennam · 2 days

Text

karma's kiss

a/n: @harmonity-vibes requested a smutty lil fic with anthony because he is foooooine so here it is

Pairing: Anthony Saint Claire x F!Reader

Summary: Anthony finds himself swindled by a con-artist and tracks her down to get his own justice.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark themes like rough sex, asphyxiation, stealing, dub-con, smut (let's remember anthony is not a nice guy like our sweet little adorable professor so read at your own risk)

SHARING IS CARING SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

The bar you’re in is far different compared to the dive bars you started in your early years.

Your job isn't the kind you include in resumés, but it's paid your bills since college and you've managed to work your way up to a more high-end clientele.

Sitting at the bar, you can feel eyes boring into your side as you sip your daiquiri.

You smile at the bearded man, waiting to see if he'll approach you first. And, indeed, he does taking your smile as an invitation.

"Staring isn't very polite, you know" you smirk setting your drink on the bar as he sits next to you.

"Well, can you blame me? A beautiful woman like you in a dress like that is bound to get some attention, right?" he smiles slyly.

You smile pretending to be flattered by his compliment. It's nothing you haven't already heard before. It might be just bait that he tells all the girls he meets to get what he wants out of them, but you have to admit it feels a little nice coming from someone as attractive as he is.

In order to hide your real name and identity, you give him a fake name as you hold your hand out to shake his.

"Anthony," he smirks shaking your hand lightly before lifting his whisky for a sip. "Are you here with your husband?"

He glances down at the fake wedding ring and band on your finger. There is no husband. You just wear the rings because you've found it makes you more intriguing to most men.

You never really understood why, but if you had to guess, you'd guess it must have something to do with the chauvinistic idea of conquering something that's not theirs or that belongs to another man.

It doesn't exactly surprise to see a gold band on his finger too.,

"Are you here with your wife?" you retort.

"Touché," he smirks raising his glass to your witty observation.

"I'm not here with my husband, but he does know I'm here."

"Your husband lets you go out alone dressed like that?"

"We have an open relationship."

Anthony's smile stretches from ear to ear. Attending underground sex clubs, he's no strangers to forbidden kinks. They arouse him. Your beauty attracted him, but now, you have his full attention.

"That's interesting. You don't hear that every day," he smirks. "Tell me more about this relationship. I'm intrigued."

"Well, once a week, he allows me to go out on my own. I like getting to meet new people and he likes watching me get fucked by other men."

Your bluntness has his cheeks turning pink as he beams with amazement.

"So it's a kink?"

"I prefer the term alternative modern lifestyle," you smile mischievously at him. "Keeps the marriage spicy."

"I can imagine. And how's it work huh?"

"I go out, find a very attractive man," you explain glancing at his lips and making no effort to hide it. "We talk, drink, kiss and I take him home to fuck me in front of my husband."

"Seems simple enough" he smirks catching your glance at his lips. "How do you choose the man?"

"Consent is the most important factor, of course. If he's not alright with that, then everything stops. But I tend to gravitate towards those that are more pleasing to the eye."

"And are there candidates yet?"

"The night is still young. This is still my first drink and I'm already interviewing one," you reply with a cheeky smile.

"Oh, my. I am very flattered," he chuckles pretending to be surprised. "I'm very interested. Although I've never done anything like this before."

"You'd be surprised at how many have."

"I'm guessing a lot?"

"More than you think. Open relationships are becoming more and more common and accepted nowadays."

It hardly takes him any further convincing. You can tell by the way his legs and hips squirm in his seat he's turned on by the sole thought of it.

Moving to a more private table, you sit in the corner of the high-end bar sharing details about what you and your husband enjoy.

Anthony is up for anything. Just the thrill of fucking you in front of your husband already his dick leaking with anticipation.

The hardness in his pants is noticeable when you place your palm on his crotch after he tells you how big he is when you ask about his size.

Granted he is perfectly sized and thick, it doesn't change any of the plans you have for him.

You invite him to come back to the motel you're staying at under the guise you and your husband always go out of town for your escapades to avoid running into people you might work who wouldn't understand your lifestyle.

A sexual deviant himself, he knows just how well it is to have to hide your sexual fantasies and desires from others.

In the backseat of a taxi on the way to the motel, his lips are all over yours mauling yours as his head tilts to the side. His tongue wrestles for dominance between you. The thumb on the hand on your neck strokes your cheek.

His touch warms you from the inside. You can't let yourself give in, but it doesn't mean you can't enjoy it while you can.

You have to focus. This is our opportunity to get what you need.

Your hand glides down his chest under his leather jacket towards his crotch. With a firm unexpected squeeze to his cock, he moans into your mouth.

The driver can't help but glance at the rearview mirror, torn between stopping you from getting too heated and letting you go on to enjoy the show.

You palm Anthony's cock over his jeans. You have to admit, the man does have a nice size that makes your panties wet.

Reveling in your touch, his knees spread to invite you in as his torso adjusts to face the front.

"You like that, huh?"

"Can't wait to get my mouth around it."

"Why wait?" He smirks darkly.

Taking a glimpse at the driver, he immediately looks away and back to the road when your eyes meet his in the mirror.

You smirk back at Anthony as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls his cock out.

Lowering into the darkness of the backseat, you lean down to take it into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around his tip to lap at his precum.

Anthony closes his eyes as his head dips backwards at the welcomed warmth of your mouth. With one arm stretched along the backseat, he uses the other to rest his hand against your bobbing head.

Too lost in the sensation, he doesn't notice or feel your hand sneaking into his pocket to steal his wallet.

The thrill of accomplishing your mission excites you enough to add a little more enthusiasm into the blowjob until the driver clears his throat to get your attention as the car rolls to a stop.

"We're here. That'll be 8.50."

"I got it" you say quickly to stop Anthony from looking for his wallet.

Taking a 10-dollar bill from your bra while Anthony tucks himself away, you hand the money to the driver and thank him telling him to keep the change.

Climbing out of the cab, you lead him to your room fumbling for your room key.

Anthony follows you inside and takes a look around. The room is nothing fancy as expected but it has a double bed which is all you need. Or so he thinks.

"My husband is on his way. He'll be here soon. Why don't you get comfortable while I freshen up real quick? I'll be just a minute."

You smirk sliding your hands up his chest to gently push at his black leather jacket.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirks down at you with lustful eyes.

As he shrugs off his jacket, you walk to the bathroom. While he takes his shoes off, you quickly race to the back wall of the bathroom to open the high shower window. You pop off the bug screen and let it fall to the ground. The collision makes an echoing noise and catches Anthony’s attention.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself.

Using the ledge of the dingy tub, you pull yourself up into the window and see-saw on the sill. You planned the escape; should’ve also planned the landing of it.

Your heart races when Anthony knocks on the locked door.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything ok in there?” he questions growing suspicious.

Your legs flail in the air, knocking the shower rod and one of your high heels down. The clattering encourages him to throw his shoulder against the door to bust it open. Pushing yourself forward, you hold your arms out to soften the drop to the ground outside just as Anthony is able to break inside, catching a quick glimpse your feet just before they slip out of view.

“Hey! The fuck are you going?!” Anthony shouts bewildered as he pats his pockets for his phone and realizes his wallet is gone so he darts to the window, standing on his toes to pop his head outside.

It dawns on him that this is a set-up. Everything you told him was merely a lie to get him alone. And now he’s stuck in a run-down motel with no way to chase after you.

“Hey! Get back here, you little fucking thief!”

Giggling to yourself with his wallet in hand, you quickly limp toward the car you’d left in the alleyway behind the motel specifically for your get-away.

He tries to climb out through the window and, although he’s much better at it than you, you’re already speeding down the alleyway and onto the road when he stands up. He tries to run after you, but he knows his feet are no match to your car.

“Fuck!” he shouts angrily as he pants.

Standing in the alleyway, he quickly whips out the cellphone you thankfully managed to leave behind and types in the digits of your license plate in his digital notes before he can forget them.

Once they’re saved, he goes through his list of contacts which – unfortunately for you – is rather long and full of assorted figures. Some, which thanks to his night job in an underground sex club, happen to be people in powerful positions. Judges, lawyers, law enforcement. You name the job and he’s guaranteed to have someone of the area in his pocket.

Cashing in a favor with a sketchy local sergeant of the police department, Anthony asks him to notify him as soon as they get a hit on your plate. The sergeant doesn’t ask any questions. Anthony wouldn’t answer him with anything other than a threat of blackmail if he didn’t, but the less he knows, the better.

It takes a few days, but Anthony eventually gets a call informing of the car’s whereabouts and original owner. He’s not surprised to know it’s not you.

Assuming you live practically on the run, moving from motel to motel, he knows he has to act fact but still cautiously. There’s still quite a bit that he doesn’t know about you like if you work with any other parties or if you impose any danger. And if so, what level of danger could it be?

With a recently purchased gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he sets his helmet on and speeds off to the illegally given address. He lurks from a distance and waits until you finally leave the room.

He keeps his distance from you, but decided to stalk you as you go about your day, buying groceries and clothes with his money. There wasn’t much pocket money, but you were able to clone his cards and identity to cash up a couple thousand.

He could’ve stopped you and cancelled all his cards, filed an official report. But you’ve would known and been caught before he’s had the chance to make you pay. And a couple thousands aren’t going to cause a lot of financial troubles for him, thanks to his fairly wealthy income from the night job.

As you go about your day, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is onto you. You keep looking over your shoulder, but there’s no one there. No one that you notice, at least. But then again, you always get this feeling after a theft.

You head back to the motel where you’d left your car. After a theft gone right, you always opt to get around on foot with the most important things in your bag at the slightest sight of a cop. That way, if anyone is onto you, it could provide you some time to get away.

Assuring the motel is safe, you head to the room you’d paid to stay at for the night and unlock the door. But just as you open the door, you instantly feel cold metal press against the side of your head. Your groceries drop and scatter on the ground as you hold your hands up.

“Don’t get smart again. I found you once and I can find you again.”

You can’t see the face of the figure, but you can tell it’s a man and you’re almost certain who he is.

“Close the door and step away from it.”

You don’t have much of an option. Run away and he’ll find you again. Or worse, shoot you down in the parking lot of this crappy motel and that’s not how you want to die.

With your hands carefully raised, you slowly close the door with your foot and walk deeper into the room just as ordered. You keep your back turned to him as he locks the door and face him only after he says you can.

You don’t have much of an option. Run away and he’ll find you again. Or worse, shoot you down in the parking lot of this crappy motel and that’s not how you want to die.

The newfound power intoxicates him. It swells him with an authority that he's never felt before. You, on the other hand, are filled with fear. You try to play it cool to avoid letting him know that you're actually scared.

"I want my money and my documents back."

"I can give your documents back and all the copies I've made. But the money is already gone. I already spent it."

"Well, it seems like we got a bit of a predicament here, doesn't it?"

"I can pay you back, but it's gonna take some time."

"I don't have time," he lies. "I want it back now."

"I don't have any money now. Why do you think I do this?" You sigh. "Look, what if... I paid you back some other way?"

"What other way?"

You lower your hand to unbutton your white shirt and reveal your lacy bra.

"This is what you wanted in the first place, isn't it?"

His eyes lower from your face down to your chest. He stays silent, considering your offer but his gun stays aimed at you.

"It was.. it still is."

"So why don't you put that away and take what you want?"

A sly smirk grows on his lips. His eyes darken with a sudden and familiar lust that revisits his being.

"I'm gonna keep this, just in case." He stated walking over to sit on the bed, manspreading his legs as he keeps the gun pointed at you.

"C'mere. On your knees."

Glancing at the weapon, you take slow steps to approach him and kneel between his knees.

"You know what to do. You did it so well before. Don't be shy now."

You nod and raise your shaky hands to unbutton his jeans, pulling down his zipper.

Feeling the end of the barrel rest against the side of your head, you carefully release his dick from it's confine. It's not quite hard as before, but its getting there with you under his will.

You hold his dick up to take him into your mouth, lathering his member with your spit.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart."

His order is your command which you obey. You don't know what he's capable of and you don't want to find out.

Looking up at him, he relishes in the contrast of your teary eyes and dirty mouth full of his dick. He takes his free hand and threads his fingers into your hair, holding it back to keep it away from distracting you. How thoughtful, you think sarcastically.

Anthony's moans and groans fill the room as he breathes heavily, cock twitching with every bob of your head.

The grip on your hair tightens with every twitch. After forcing himself to the back of your throat, you buy yourself sometime to breath by licking up the backside of his heavy cock and swirling your tongue around his dome, putting your saliva pool against your plush lips.

"Fucking Christ" he groans deeply as he watches your mouth working its wonders, his angry cock throbbing with desire.

"Take them off" he orders nodding at your clothes.

Obeying his command, you slowly stand between his knees and unbutton your pants. He tisks as you move too fast.

“Slow… and turn around for me.”

You turn your back to him and slowly push your pants down, gliding your palms over your cheeks as you undress just to tease him a little. You figure you might as well enjoy it.

He smirks at the sight of your matching panties and admires how they perfectly hug your curves. As you bend forward to push your pants down to your ankles, he takes advantage of your position and trails the edge of his gun down the split of your cheeks.

Your body tenses at the touch of cold metal. You remind yourself to take calming breaths to keep yourself together.

“Nice fucking ass you got here, sweetheart,” he simpers, poking the barrel at your clothed cunt from behind. “Bet you got a cute pussy too…. Show me it.”

You gulp and lift your trembling hands to slide your panties down to reveal yourself to him. Although Anthony is undoubtedly attracted, you don’t trust him. The fact that your life is essentially in his hands is still in your mind. You comply to his orders, but you pray that he doesn’t hurt you too much. Not enough to be fatal at least.

“Atta girl.” He says removing the gun from between your legs. You quietly sigh in relief.

“Now come on over here.” Anthony stands behind you and presses the gun into your side.

“On the bed. Face down.”

Accepting your fate, you climb onto the mattress and lay on your front. Out of your view, you hear the jostling of his belt as he removes it with one hand and climbs on top of your legs to lock you in place. Setting the gun beside his foot, he takes the belt and tightens the leather tightly around your wrists.

You wince as the leather pinches your skin, but he doesn’t seem to care if it hurts you. You can feel his emotionless eyes on you, so you turn your head to the side to avoid look at him.

He climbs off of you and the bed, but he stays close. You try to zone out as you listen to him undress.

Walking around the bed now completely naked, he kneels down to pet your hair and wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Listen, sweetheart. I’m sorry for the scare. I’m not gonna kill you, alright? I’m not a monster.”

You nod looking up at him confused.

“I’m just gonna fuck you. Really, really hard. I think I deserve to get my money’s worth, right? Even you gotta agree with me on that.”

His words don’t exactly ease you, but the promise that he won’t shoot you dead is enough. After all, he doesn’t have to. It’s not like you can simply go to the cops to report him anyways.

“Ok,” you agree. “C-can you just please put the gun away?”

“I can do that. But don’t get smart. Deal?”

“Deal.”

He walks back around the bed and takes his gun to set it on the nightstand. You feel like you can finally breathe after what seemed like hours holding your breath.

You feel his weight on the mattress as it dips beside you again. He pulls you up by your arms and stands you on your knees.

“I want you to do something for me first. Sit on my face. Can you do that?”

You’re almost surprised by his request and the contact on your wrists as he unbuckles the belt, letting your wrists go just to bind them again but in front of you this time. He wants to…. pleasure you?

“I’ll make you cum if you’re a good girl.”

Once he’s on his back on the bed, you straddle his head carefully and lower your hips down to meet with his hungry mouth. With your ass spread by his hands, you lean forward to place your hands on his taut abs for balance.

You can’t hold back the moan you release as he licks a long-wet stripe from your hardening clit to your puckered ring of muscle. The hands that keep your cheeks apart squeezes into your flesh when his tongue begins its work on your pussy.

Anthony just can’t enough of you. Your taste is wonderfully delicious to him that he just has to fuck you with his tongue. And the position allows him to flick at your sensitive nub, making your walls slick.

“Jesus, fuck!” you gasp as he toys with your clit bringing you closer and closer to the brink. You’re so turned on although you feel like you shouldn’t be. He held you at gunpoint. This is wrong. So wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

His beard heightens the sensitivity between your legs as his nose pokes at your asshole. He pulls your hips down against his face harder, restricting himself of air.

“T-That feels so good!” you whine with tears prickling at your eyes feeling the pleasure snaps in waves throughout your body.

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you find yourself leaning forward to wrap your mouth around his cock again. The burning heat that bubbles from your core provoking yet another orgasm has you so hot for him that you need to suck him off.

He chuckles surprised by your sudden urge as he lifts your hips up to hiss out in pleasure. It doesn’t take him long to start thrusting his hips violently up, shoving his cock down your throat. He stops suddenly and pushes you off him, feeling himself close.

Shoving you onto your back, he spreads your legs and eagers aligns his dick with your hole before pushing himself into your wetness.

His hips relentlessly thrust against yours as he pounds you raw. The sounds of your wet cunt squelching around him make your cheeks warm as you realize how wet you really are for him.

The lecherous stare down at your body proves he’s getting closer. He pants as he watches your breast bouncing free from your bra. Eager to feel them, he stills and tear the bra in half to expose you completely.

He growls dipping his head to grope and maul at your breasts. Your skin burns with his prickly beard and rough teething kisses.

With one hand squeezing your breast, the other sneaks around your neck. He squeezes your neck and throat, choking you as he restricts your oxygen. His hips drill you into the mattress as you watch him, slowly losing your conscious.

Anthony looks like he’s been possessed by something else and it scares you a bit. You claw at his wrists as you feel the pressure in your head weighing heavy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head from the combination of pleasure and pain.

You gasp for air as he finally releases your neck and fills you with his heavy load, spilling into your pussy in hot ropes.

He pants as he eases his cock out and into you again, admiring how his cum trickles out from your hole and coats his cock.

“We’re gonna have a very long night.”

“Night?” you question. Could you even last a night with him?

“I told you. I want my money’s worth.”

#anthony saint claire #anthony saint claire x you #anthony saint claire x reader #anthony saint claire x y/n #anthony claire #anthony claire x reader #anthony claire x you #anthony claire x y/n #adam bell #adam bell x reader #adam bell x you #adam bell x y/n #enemy #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal smut

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itsnothingofinterest · 2 days

Note

Any predictions for the next chapter, or from this wrap up in general?

I’m gonna be honest; with Shigaraki dead, who knows how many of the League with him or soon to follow, and most of Class 1A ending their arcs as a disappointing collective carbon copy of the last generation, I’m not too interested. And that may hinder my ability to predict what little we have left, let alone to any enjoyable capacity.

The only real prediction I can make is about how the wrap up will take every implication or consequence of the kids’ failure to save or change and…continue to ignore them, brush them under the rug that is this feeling of how much the ‘day has been saved’ we’re being given.

I’m talking zero mention of corruption in the hero industry, no talk about the folks heroes aren’t around to save despite inspiring complacency & dependency, nothing to make us think villains won’t be treated worse after how Twice, Machia, and Shigaraki were treated, and you better believe they won’t bring up the Singularity Doomsday.

(Or, potentially more infuriatingly if it’s done poorly*, they actually will bring up some of the League’s old talking points…most of which no one on the heroes side have ever been shown caring about and weren’t really brought up in the final arc at all…and it’s all to talk about how they’re handling it the right way tm, which we learn is super easy for them. Turns out Shoji really can solve all of quirks racism by just being super inspiring at bigots, maybe with some finger wagging at them if he’s feeling daring**; don’t know why Spinner’s mob thought they needed to riot like that. And Shoto just made a few calls, gave a speech maybe, and now heroes abusing their power and/or families is a thing of the past; sure makes the lengths Touya went to seem silly.

Ugh, I’m getting a migraine just typing that out.)

And it’ll all end with future Deku saving some kid lost in the streets like Tenko Shimura, and we’ll be asked to just pretend that means every kid like Tenko Shimura gets saved from now on…even though that’s not how his backstory or criticism of the system worked at all. Remember: ‘the day is saved, so don’t think about it too hard.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Which I expect it would be.

**Which he will not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If, after seeing me say that I don't want an ending where they do nothing but also don't want an ending where they do everything, you're wondering what ending I'd be satisfied with…I honestly couldn't tell you.

I should want an ending where they change and improve things; but after spending a sizable fraction of MHA's total length effectively fighting against change and improvement because it was villains trying to shepherd it in while the heroes were always talking about rebuilding it all back to normal to the very end (including just last chapter), I don't know how Hori could pull that off without it feeling like bad writing. And unless that writing gets bad enough for Tomura to return from dust, I don’t much care for that idea either.

#ask & reply #bnha #bnha 425 #shigaraki tomura #twice #jin bubaigawara #gigantomachia #spinner #dabi #touya todoroki #paranormal liberation front #PLF #shoto todoroki #mezo shoji #midoriya izuku #class 1a #hero society

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midnightanxietytm · 12 hours

Text

Don't think about the dream! (NSFW)

A/n: this one is for @melle-d, so not my lamb, I had a lot of fun with this one, didn't even review it, just wrote. Also, can anyone send me a dollar for totally not related reasons? BRL don't really cover it.../j

Summary: But, since turning immortal, since getting their marvelous ring, Ewen, now known as just The Lamb, has looked forward to death, if only because they wish to see their beloved. Three nights ago though, things changed.

MINORS DNI - nsfw under cut

The Lamb is dreading their death.

Weird thing to feel, most people dread their death all their lives, it shouldn't be a new thing at all for them. But, since turning immortal, since getting their marvelous ring, Ewen, now known as just The Lamb, has looked forward to death, if only because they wish to see their beloved.

Three nights ago though, things changed and they had an… Interesting dream, one that involved their legs spread open and their god pounding them ruthlessly, and they’ve been thinking about it ever since, which was the root of their problem. If they died and ended up in his realm, Narinder would surely read their mind and see everything. Sure, it could be an opportunity to tease a bit, nothing they hadn’t done before, but that dream had been especially intimate and it had evoked a more visceral reaction than even their actual experiences.

Now, standing on the doorway to Anura, all ready for a crusade, for the first time, they hesitate.

They step in anyways, promising themselves that this time it would be a no-death run.

It was not a no-death run.

There wasn’t much time to think about sex dreams when you’re getting swarmed by fireballs and jumped on by giant frogs, but as soon as they appeared on the summoning circle in front of their god and looked up at Narinder, the dream flashed tough their mind all over, a shiver going up their spine.

They don’t remember how it started, but they do remember the heated kisses, his clawed hands ripping their clothes, as Narinder revealed his own eldritch form; arms and abdomen pure bone, so much taller than them, pushing them into the ground and willing the crown into a barbed-

There’s half a second of regret before Narinder speaks, his tone amused; “It matters not how many times you are struck down, as I’ve told you, but are you really that eager to see me, little vessel?”

That all crossed the Lamb’s head before they had the sense to stop it. Oh sacred death they shouldn’t have thought about the dream.

Something about the way his voice rang through the infinite space brought another shiver to them and all they could think was; Don’t think about the dream, over and over, so no answer left their mouth as they looked to the side with an awkward chuckle.

“Oh, believe me, my lord, they are.” They say, but almost regret as their tone gives away all the sinful things running through their mind. Narinder seems to find the memory of their dream just then, and Ewen catches a brief second of surprise in his features.

Which seemed to be a mistake, because then came Narinder’s voice again; “What dream, Lamb?” Another shiver,now as they feel their god prod shamelessly into their mind, like cold tentacles prodding into their thoughts and- Oh lord, wrong train of thought! “It’s pointless to try and hide your mind from me, vessel, I own all of you, every thought of yours should be devoted to me.”

But then he laughs “Oh poor little vessel.” He says. “You wouldn’t be able to take me on this form.” He leans down and uses a giant hand to pull them closer. “Little Lamb, your desire is also devotion that fuels me, even if I can't personally satisfy them…”

The Lamb’s breath hitches at the implications. “I haven’t… I wouldn't dare disrespect your image, my lord.” They say, looking up through their lashes with big doe eyes and raising a hand to the bell on their neck. It was a pretended innocence, they both knew. The lamb had been not-so-subtly provoking Narinder since they first met.

“Lamb, you are my vessel, you belong to me, every act of yours, every desire, is devotion to me.” The Lamb exhales shakily, the ring around their neck almost burns. “Go on, show me how devoted you are.”

Ewen raises their other hand and undoes the clasp of their fleece, letting it fall to their feet, then they move to remove their bell, but Narinder stops them. “Leave the bell, little lamb.” They do, and start to unbutton their clothes, all while looking up at their god. His hand was still resting on the ground behind them, and they lay down, leaning against it.

Narinder’s eyes are fixated on them as they spread open their legs, already painfully horny. They started to run their hands over their body, as they had done dozens of times before, but now, with their god watching them so intently, it felt so much better.

They don’t waste too much time, soon they’ve shoved two fingers inside themselves and moved them with reckless abandon, breathing shakily and letting out an occasional small bleat of pleasure. Narinder doesn’t say anything, but he watches them with a grin; three red eyes focused on them.

They decide then that if their god wanted to see their dream, they could show how it went, at least partially.

The crown, eager for sin, moves and transforms mid-air, assuming the phallic shape, with the barbs, just like they had imagined. Lamb slides further down, spreading their legs and raising their hips for their god's better view, and the crown shoves itself into them without hesitation.

And the god watches; the Lamb’s pathetic bleats and moans fill the silence of death's realm with pleasure, with the hot dripping feeling that is desire. The crown moves slowly at first, but it only takes Narinder a bit of will to order it to move faster.

The little Lamb rolls their eyes, calls his given name in between a moan and with a dumb satisfied smile on their face. Narinder can feel their devotion, their obsession, dripping like the wetness between their legs. “My lord!” They plead, eyes barely focusing on him. “I'm yours all yours!” They say it like a mantra, a prayer to belong to him and him only.

They say Death is merciless, but Narinder feels quite merciful as he moves his hand to better support his darling vessel before willing the crown to go faster.

Ewen's mind feels melted; their god, Narinder, was looking at them with the repressed hunger only an immortal could have, the crown inside them was hitting all the right places, and their climax approached fast, so fast, almost there.

They cum with a desperate bleat, the crown finally slows down. Narinder takes in the sight of their perfect vessel lost in bliss; in another time, he would have adorned the little lamb in jewels and have them sit on the arm of his throne during every banquet, then take them to his chambers and fuck him over and over just to see them so beautifully blissed out.

But his chained form doesn’t allow him such things, so instead he allows the crown to return to the Lamb’s head — clean and back to its regular shape — and nudges the lamb to stand on their shaky legs.

“Return to your duties, little vessel, but remember I'm always watching you.”

The Lamb gets dressed, still a bit shaky, and is sent back to the cult, knowing that their god would have much to watch during the next few nights.

A/n: A little messy, but I had fun trying to write another Lamb, hope i did it justice.

Where are aym and baal during this scene? Out on a walk or smt idk. Whats the Lamb's genitalia like? Bruh whatever is convenient idc im not good at describing those things lol

#midnight writes #cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #fanfic writing #asks open #taking requests #cw smut #minors dni #narilamb smut #yipee

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makeste · 4 hours

Text

BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you

#bnha 425 #class 1-a #wait no #class 2-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this whole time we were led to believe this was the story of how izuku's generation became the greatest heroes #when really it was the story of rat principal's ascent to power #he waited until there was a vacuum and then he SWEPT RIGHT IN like emperor palpatine #it's his world now and we're just living in it

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sarahowritesostucky · 19 hours

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 7129

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

12. Pôt de crème

Mary

That day really winds up feeling like the epitome of a terrible horrible, no good, very bad fucking day for Mary, and it starts early. Leaving the apartment for work after the massage cocktease from Hell is odd.

She’s left feeling happy to have helped, but also hurt, disappointed, and mad at herself, of all things. That was the perfect opportunity for her to make a move and finally force those two to tell her that they’re not interested! (Though a small and pitifully thirsty part of her brain still exists in the fantasy land where they’d take her up on it.) But she’d chickened out and kept it strictly platonic. Ugh. Lame.

She manages not to think about it for a while, as she gets into the rhythm of her day at the bakery. She still can’t shake the cloud of anxiety and irritability looming over her, though. The good old days of any lasting effects from Bucky’s drops are gone, and instead she’s left to slowly percolate a bad mood as she clocks in and figures out the best order to get her projects done for that day.

Dennis is the manager on schedule, which sucks because Mary’s never liked him, but he’s in the office for the most part, since he’s a stuck up do-nothing, and she's able to pretend that she’s alone.

No matter though. She can’t focus on anything, feels overly emotional, and almost breaks out in tears when she drops a tray of cupcakes on the floor. She manages to hold it together as she cleans up the mess, and moves onto the next task. Her list for the day now feels miserably long, and she doesn’t even enjoy decorating the base-iced babycakes that are waiting for her from yesterday. She fucks up the writing on one of them and loses her shit over something that is not worth losing her shit over. That’s the stupid thing that finally pushes her to tears, and she tosses her piping bag angrily onto the counter, what the fucking herself and feeling like she’s going crazy.

Like baseball, there’s no crying in kitchens: That’s what the walk-in’s for. So, she hides back by the dairy products until she’s able to pull herself together. She comes out shivering, not crying, and in a horrible mood.

Buttercream is next, so she gets the sugar boiling and the egg whites whisking in the forty quart. She tries to talk herself up in her head as she goes through motions of streaming in the sugar and then scaling the butter she’ll add to it once it’s whipped cool. “You’re not bad at your job,” she mumbles to herself, trying to push the threat of tears away with positive thoughts. “You’re not.”

Jesus fuck, why is she feeling like this? Nothing that bad has even happened! So she dropped some fucking cupcakes, so what? It happens. She checks her phone to see if she’s about to get her period, but that’s not it. Her focus is shit, so of course she eventually goes back to thinking about Bucky and Steve.

Today is Bucky’s day off. Mary thinks about him being in pain that morning and how his movements had been crippled by pain. … She thinks about his broad, muscled back under her hands, his warm skin, the moans of relief he’d given whenever she worked out a knot. Poor guy. Even though she hates to think of enduring it again, she has to admit to herself that she does care about Bucky, and she would endure it if he needed her help. Hell, if it’s something that’ll help him in the long run, she’ll have to do at least one or two more massage sessions to teach Steve the ropes so he can help his husband in her absence.

Bucky doesn’t want her to do it. She pouts about that, but scolds herself as soon as she realizes she’s doing so. Don’t be lame over guys who don’t want you. So Bucky and Steve just want to be gay together in peace, so what? Why is she losing her shit over the tiniest rejection like this?!

She ruminates on it while she’s at the stove stirring a massive batch of pôt de crème custard, and it occurs to her that the part she’s actually most upset about isn’t their platonic feelings for her: it’s her own lack of bravery and straightforwardness with Bucky and Steve, and how she’s become such a pathetic wallflower over the past few months.

Maybe if she’d flat out asked about a romantic relationship from the beginning, she could’ve gotten the rejection out of the way and been putting herself out there to meet someone new by now. She might’ve met a Dom at one of the Center’s socials, or at least could’ve been swiping the apps and going on dates. Getting laid.

But instead suddenly she’s turned into a shy girl (obnoxious). She hasn’t been a virgin since college, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t sleeping with whoever she could get her hands on, back before Steve and Bucky 'adopted' her. She’d been so good at it back then, saying what she meant and going for what she wanted, dragging at least one new guy back to her place to fuck every other week. Why can’t she just do something now?

Frowning, she decides that she will do something over it. The ideal would be to move back to her own place, but she can’t with the custody order in place and Dr. Linda on Bucky’s side. Gritting her teeth, she figures she’ll do the next best thing: she’ll start getting laid again. She’ll go out and meet people. She’ll go out straight after work each day. Unless he wants to physically tie her up and keep her prisoner in the apartment, Bucky can’t stop it.

She’s just got to work up the nerve to break his rules like that. Nerve which, in her current mood, seems quite out of reach. She sighs and reaches up to grab the Grand Marnier off the shelf for the pôt de crème. All she feels like doing now is going back to the apartment and crawling into bed, to be honest. She wonders if this is what actual clinical depression feels like. Maybe. Maybe worse. Sarcastically, she thinks that a shot or three of alcohol would certainly help, and then she pauses with her hand on the bottle as she’s about to pour it into the custard. Oh.

She’s not drinking anymore.

Fuck. That’s it. She’s hardly ever had sex sober in her life. Barely ever even flirted without some liquid courage in her system. That’s what’s changed. She always used pick up guys in bars, or at other places where everybody had a drink in their hand. And at home at her apartment, whenever the creeping buildup of anxiety and irritability would get to be too much, a couple vodka sprites were what made her feel better. She pauses in her stirring. Thinking about it now is making her almost physically yearn for a stiff one.

She looks down at the bottle in her hand, shame coloring her cheeks as soon as she has the thought. Even at her worst, Mary never drank on the job. She grimaces at herself and hurriedly sets the bottle back on the shelf before temptation can win out, then turns back to the stove.

“Fuck!” she hisses, scrambling to turn off the burner when she’s met with the sight of lumpy pôt de crème. She whisks it frantically to try and stop it, but it’s too far gone: The eggs in the custard have curdled. She throws her head back and groans. “God dammit!”

She makes a last ditch effort to save it by dumping the lumpy custard into a Cambro, tossing in a few ice cubes, and furiously burr-mixing it with the immersion blender, but it’s no use. She’s irrevocably ruined a massive batch of dessert (with the expensive liqueur already added in it, to boot) because she wasn’t paying attention. Growling, she dumps it all in the trash bin before Dennis can happen to walk by and see, then stomps back to the fridge to grab ingredients to rescale the recipe.

She lines up sheet trays of paper dessert cups on her workstation table for decanting … and takes one cup with her over to the stove while she stands there and cooks the second batch of pôt de crème.

It’s when she’s stirring and pouring that second measure of liqueur into the pot that she gives into impulse and pours a shot’s worth of the stuff into the extra paper baking cup—that she now realizes she brought over for this express purpose in the first place. She gives the empty kitchen a furtive glance, and tosses it back. “Ugh.”

Orange flavored liqueur? Really Mary?

She hears the rebuke in Bucky’s voice in her head, which is annoying and drives her to repeat the action once she’s drank the first. She tosses back a second. Gross gross gross. She checks the label on the bottle: 40% ABV. Good. She puts the bottle back on the shelf, pissed about feeling so uncomfortable in her skin that she stubbornly refuses to feel guilty over her actions, and finishes cooking the custard to a smooth nappé this time. Perfect.

She pours the custard over the white chocolate and lets it melt. She burr mixes it, strains it. Ready to go.

Later maybe she’ll feel bad about it, but as she grabs the sauce gun and begins the tedious process of dispensing the pôt de crème into the cups, that warm, pleasant feeling of a buzz starts to creep up on her, and she finds herself in a better mood before long. Things seem brighter, and she finally feels like she can breathe. She’s able to think about Bucky and Steve without feeling like a piece of dirt, and even laughs about the stupid massage episode. Two shots of liqueur on an empty stomach makes that seem like not such a big deal, and she simply decides that she won’t volunteer for massage duty anymore, because obviously it was a mistake. She’d liked helping Bucky to feel better when he was hurting, but not enough to make up for having to endure the very non-platonic swooping in her belly she’d gotten from having her hands all over his naked back. Fuck, is he ever hot. Both of them are. They’re bodies are just, guh.

She doesn’t need that frustration in her life.

She’s got a moderate buzz by the time she finishes her next project, and she cheerfully bops onto her next task.

It’s such a relief, not having that heavy feeling of anxiousness and general uncomfortability weighing down on her. Jeez, she hadn’t even realized how bad it had gotten. She forgot how much a few drinks helped. She gets giddy and chases that feeling, quickly sneaking another quick shot (this time of the rum they use on the rum buns, though, because it really was gross that she drank that liqueur straight—blecgh). What’s one more quick drink in between batches of cakes going in and out of the oven, after all?

… And then just once more, after she’s added the last chunk of the butter into the whipping forty quart. By the time she’s got everything set out to basic-build the next bunch of babycakes, she’s in a great mood. It’s almost as good as the subspace had been, back in the beginning with Bucky. She hums songs under her breath and moves around the kitchen assembling and icing the cute little five inch cakes that are her specialty.

It’s her pet project, something she’d suggested to Mr. Flaherty, the bakery’s owner. Not only are they friggin’ adorable, they’re easy to bang out a bunch of them all at once, small enough to cost pennies to make, and big enough and cute enough that people are willing to pay way more than the cakes are actually worth. Mary knows for a fact that they have the highest profit margin of any item in the bakery. She’s privately very proud that Mr. Flaherty had listened to her idea and decided it was something they would offer on the regular menu. Dennis had underplayed it—like the jealous killjoy he is.

Mary celebrates her good mood with another teeny sip of booze and then spends extra effort on smooth-icing in all the best pastel colors, thinking that today is a great day and can only get better from here.

Wrongo bongo.

“What the heck!”

“Oh, shit,” Mary hisses, running into the back when she smells burning bread and hears her manager’s voice calling out. Sure enough, Dennis is there, oven mitts in hand, angrily sliding a tray of blackened croissants onto the speed rack, and going back to the oven to pull out another. There are six trays of ruined croissants, and Mary grimaces “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

Dennis ignores her until he’s finished pulling out all the wasted product, and when he’s done, he lays her out. “This isn’t fucking Panera Bread,” he tells her angrily. “We’re a mom and pop bakery. Profit margins are slimmer than slim!”

Mary cringes. “I know, I know, I’m sor—”

“How much money did you just cost us?” Dennis demands, hands on his hips. “Huh? Tell me. I want you to stand there and think about it and tell me how much.”

Mary stares for a second, then realizes that he’s dead serious. Humiliated, she licks her lips and does the math: 6 trays of 10 = 60 croissants, 60 x $4 per ganache-stuffed croissant, minus about $30 ingredients cost. It takes her longer than it normally would, since she’s been drinking, but when she’s worked it out she winces and looks down in shame. “I dunno … A little over two hundred, I guess.”

Dennis flails his hand holding the oven mitts. “We can’t afford to have you ruining hundreds of dollars of profit, Mary. Get it together.”

She frowns, indignant. “I was up front helping a customer,” she defends.

“That’s what the oven timer is for.”

“I know that. I just forgot to—”

“You’re forgetting a lot of things lately.” He gestures angrily at the trays of blackened croissants. “I’ve tried to help you. I gave you time off to get your shit together when your boyfriend came in and told me about your mental condition.”

Mary grits her teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Dom, dungeon master, whatever,” he says nastily. “I don’t know what you people get up to. But I’ve given you a lot of chances cause you’re apparently dealing with some shit. I can’t keep doing that forever if you keep costing this place money.”

Mary glares and steps up closer, getting in his face. “Maybe if you actually hired someone for front of house on Tuesdays, then I could actually focus back here!”

Dennis’ expression changes suddenly. He narrows his eyes at her and leans in closer. “What’s that?” he says, deathly quiet.

Mary huffs. “I said, you need to hire more—”

“You smell like alcohol.”

Everything comes to a stop as his words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Oh, fuck. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “What?” She scowls like that’s absurd, about to say something to deny it, but the words die on her lips when she sees the way Dennis is looking at her. He knows. Mary feels sick.

Dennis’ expression darkens further. “Are you drinking on the job, Mary?”

“No!” (what’s she supposed to do, tell the truth?)

“I don’t believe you.” He squares his jaw. “I’m calling Mr. Flaherty in.”

“What?!”

“Two hundred dollars of wasted product? Drinking on the job?” He’s already walking over to the wall phone and picking it up. When he looks back in Mary’s direction, there’s a gleam in his eyes. Fucker never did like her. “I told him I thought you had a drinking problem, and now I have proof.”

“You don’t have shit!” Mary cries. She’s actually panicking though, as she watches him dial the number to call the bakery’s owner.

“I have the security cameras,” he says, looking vindictively pleased. “We’ll check them. You’re gonna be out of a job.”

Mary stands there and watches in horrified disbelief as Dennis calls Mr. Flaherty and tells him that he needs to have a word with him in person that afternoon about “something serious.” He doesn’t give details, and when the call ends and he hangs up the phone, he shoots Mary a smug look. “I’ll work the register so that you can finish your shift back here and not make any more stupid mistakes.”

Mary scoffs, panicked and angry and sick to her stomach with what’s happening. “No way! Forget it!” She hurries to untie her apron and yank it off. “I’m not gonna stick around here for you to lie and get me fired. I quit!” She tosses the apron to the floor and stalks back to grab her purse from the office, too panicked to think straight. She cannot stay there and see poor old Mr. Flaherty watch video evidence of her drinking on the job. He’s always been so nice to her, and now she’s betrayed him and fucked everything up. She’s just ruined the only job she’s ever liked.

Dennis is getting less and less angry and more gleeful about it. “Bye bye, Hot-Mess Mary,” he sneers. “Don’t bother coming back. We’ll mail you your last paycheck. Have a nice life.”

“Fuck you, Dennis!” she yells, though her voice comes out choked with emotion. She shoulders her purse and whirls around before there’s any chance of him seeing her tearing up. She hurries for the back door that leads out to the alleyway. It's heavy and metal, and she shoulders it open with a grunt, stepping out. “Jealous prick,” she says, only to hear him laugh meanly and call out from inside,

“Jealous? Of you? An alcoholic pervert?”

The heavy back door slams shut before she can answer, and there’s no handle on the outside. It takes approximately two point five seconds for her to burst out crying.

Steve

“Fuck, Honey, ugh.”

Steve digs his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass and shuffles closer on his knees. On the couch (whose cushions have since been put back into place), Bucky parts his legs even farther and Steve takes him in deeper. His other hand keeps nudging the toy that’s buried in his husband’s ass—the glass p-spot toy, because unlike Steve, Bucky loves firmness but hates vibrations up there. Steve’s been gently fucking him with it, nudging it against his prostate again and again, having found the perfect angle. Every grunt and moan that he gets out of Bucky has his own cock throbbing in his underwear, but he isn’t touching himself, is devoting every ounce of his attention to resolving the “problem” that Mary’s massage left Bucky with.

“You know,” Bucky says, voice a little breathy as he speaks between groans. “I’m never gonna—nnh. Never gonna look at this couch again without thinking of her oily hands sliding all over my back."

Steve hums in agreement, the sound reverberating around Bucky’s cock and pulling another hiss from him. Steve pops off to glance upwards. “Me too,” he says, and they share a look of heated yearning, before he shakes it off and sinks his mouth back down on Bucky’s throbbing length.

He’s been dragging it out, having fun with it. But now it’s gotten sloppy and wet, and Steve’s jaw aches, and he really wants to make Bucky come so he can finally get a hand around himself. He hums around Bucky’s cock once more while he still can, then takes him all the way to the hilt, nose pressing into his pubes and throat spasming around the head.

“Oh! shit …” Bucky’s fingers dig sharply into Steve's scalp. His hips stutter up of their own accord, making Steve choke a little, but he soldiers on. Bucky makes a helpless little sound that is very close to a whimper, and which has Steve’s belly pulling tight with arousal. “Close, Baby. So close, fuck …”

Steve purposefully chokes himself, letting it hit the back of his throat again and again, swallowing compulsively. It gets him what he wants, which is for this blowjob to be over.

Above him, Bucky slumps further on the cushions and groans long and low, the tortured moan letting Steve know that he’s cresting that edge. He pulls back to suck hard on the head, abandoning the toy to the clenching of Bucky's ass so he can stroke him through it. He hums happily when he feels the pulse of Bucky’s cock on his tongue, the hot spurts of cum, the clenching of thighs muscle beneath his hands. Fuck, it’s sexy.

Having been with the man for so long, Steve knows exactly when to ease off. He gentles his touch and stops sucking. He waits with Bucky’s softening cock in his mouth, not pulling off until the hands that were gripping him desperately a moment ago smooth gently through his hair in gratitude. Steve pulls off, keeps his mouth closed, doesn’t swallow. Bucky’s flushed and wet cock falls onto his belly, gorgeously swollen and spent. Steve’s staring at it covetously when Bucky gives a long, shaky exhale from above, tapering off in a satisfied groan. “Stevie,” he sighs happily. “Mmhh. Fuck. C’mere.”

He pulls Steve up onto the couch, not satisfied until he’s got him in his lap. Steve straddles him and smiles with his mouth still closed. “Good boy,” Bucky whispers, reaching up to gently cup the front of his neck. His eyes are heavy lidded but still heated as he strokes his thumb over Steve’s windpipe. He loves to watch Steve swallow his cum, and that’s why Steve hasn’t yet, is waiting for his signal. He’s very good at making a show of it: dragging it out, eye contact, showing the load on his tongue if Bucky wants, swallowing slowly and obviously; really turning it into an act of obedience for his husband.

He’s surprised when Bucky doesn’t tell him to swallow. “Hold it,” he says instead, confusing Steve. Bucky grins devilishly and reaches down between their bodies. He returns with the glass toy in hand and holds it up. “Get it wet," he purrs.

And Steve’s entire body goes stiff as he re-remembers that he’s married to the filthiest man on the fucking planet.

Steve must be filthy too, though, because a massive wave of arousal sweeps through him as Bucky holds up the toy with a dirty smirk and commands him to wet it up—with his own cum. Steve almost feels lightheaded from how all the blood rushes to his cock and away from his brain. He groans through his mouthful of cum, and Bucky’s lips curl. “You heard me. Do it.”

He looks down and aims, letting his mouthful of cum slide out onto the tip of the glass toy that was buried in Bucky’s ass not ten seconds ago. It’s obscene, filthy, and that only makes his belly swirl that much harder as Bucky uses his flesh fingertips to spread the cum around lazily, coating the clear glass with his own sticky cum. “Good,” he praises, still smirking at Steve through half lidded eyes. “Now, put it in.”

Steve groans and takes the toy from him. They haven’t done prep, but it’s a small, slim toy, and he knows it’ll slide in easily with the help of his husband’s own jizz slicking the way. Jesus Christ. He starts to move, intending to take his underwear off, but Bucky stops him with an amused shake of the head.

“Uh uh. Just pull ‘em aside and put it in. Keep your briefs on.”

“Fuck.” He listens, reaching back to pull his underwear to the side and press the head of the toy to his rim. He works it inside, eyelids fluttering when it pops past the muscle and glides in smoothly. “Oh,” he sighs, letting his underwear snap back and shifting his hips to feel the stretch against his rim, the heavy curve of it settling into place against his prostate. “Fuck.” He starts rocking his hips in tiny motions to work it inside him, barely-there sounds of pleasure escaping him each time it does. “Ooh, Buck,” he breathes. He doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until Bucky startles him with a kiss, growling and tugging him in close by the back of the neck. “Mmph!”

Their lips clash in a harsh, demanding kiss, Bucky taking possession of it and gripping the back of his neck hard to keep him still. Steve pants and whines and takes it, hips juddering forward to grind his aching dick against Bucky’s stomach. Each dominating swipe of Bucky’s tongue into his mouth makes him ache for more. “Buck,” he pants, right against Bucky's lips, where he's shamelessly kissing his messy mouth. “Baby, oh, please?”

“Yeah?” His hand cups Steve from over his underwear, squeezing the line of his erection. “You’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he husks, dipping under the waistband to curl his fingers around him. “Make me feel so good, fuck, I love you.”

Steve moans and rests his forehead on Bucky's naked shoulder, looking down to watch. He whines when he sees that it’s the metal hand—which he already knew by feel, but the sight of it is a whole other level of hot. Steve thinks of it like a knife kink, or a gun kink: seeing something so steely and dangerous that close to him, wrapped around and working him, giving him pleasure. The sight of all that black and gold metal on his cock makes his belly clamp down hard in need. “Oh fuck, ” he breathes. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart.” Bucky kisses his ear and breathes hotly against him as he pumps and twists his hand, going tight just the way Steve likes. It’s messy from the precum that Steve’s dick keeps blurting out, and he whimpers at the soft, wet sounds it begins making. “I know,” Bucky whispers. “You get so worked up. I love that. Big fat cock n’ balls, but you wet up for me just like a girl, dontcha' Sweetheart? Bet you started right down there on your knees, too. Hard and leaking just from sucking me off, making a mess in your panties.” Steve groans in embarrassment and Bucky snickers. “Aw, don’t try to deny it. I saw that boner when you crawled on up here. Saw the wet spot on those tighty-whities, too.” Playfully, he snaps the elastic band of Steve’s underwear against his hip. “You get off on it. Pretty little cocksucker.”

Steve humps into his fist, which between how slick it is and how tightly Bucky’s gripping him, feels fucking amazing. “Nnuhh,” he moans, “I get off on you. You were so—fuck, mmph—so hard when she left. I f-felt bad for you.”

Bucky growls and strokes faster. “Don’t be patronizing, baby. I saw the state she left you in. At least I had the excuse of getting rubbed down.” He snickers lowly and presses another kiss to Steve's ear. “She wasn’t even touching you.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tightly, as he recalls the image of Mary sitting on the bed with Bucky, rubbing his naked back with her oiled hands—Her tiny oiled hands, that would look so good on their cocks. Fuck, he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. He pants, trying to get words out. “I—nuhh, oh. I wanted to—mmm …”

Bucky bites his earlobe. “Wanted to what? Tell me.”

“Wanted to watch her give you a happy ending,” he grunts. “Tell you to turn over n’ watch her jerk you off.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, voice dark and interested. “Mm. You miss women.” Steve whines and nods in lieu of an answer. “Well maybe we’ll get a girl sometime. A special treat. Have a threesome like we used to. Take turns fucking her. Maybe I’ll even have her fuck you with a strap-on.” Steve moans and kisses him dirtily, and Bucky reciprocates, hand leaving Steve’s cock so he can hold his jaw with both hands.

Steve whimpers and his hips keep moving, chasing the friction that isn’t there anymore. “Buck,” he breaks off from the kiss to beg. “Please. Please. I need to cum.”

Bucky smiles and takes pity on him, but he switches up his hands, using the flesh one on Steve’s cock so that he can squeeze even more, really wringing up hard and thumbing under the head on every stroke. Steve sobs and sits back, bracing on Bucky’s shoulders and watching himself fuck into clench of his fist. “Yeah,” he moans. “Oh, God. Fuck yeah, just like that.”

“How’s that toy feel?” Bucky reaches his other hand underneath and taps against the glass toy’s base a few times— ‘tap, tap, tap,’ —humming in satisfaction when Steve cries out and ruts desperately into his fist. “Ooh,” he goads. “It feels that good, huh?” Tap, tap, tap. “It that gonna make you cum?”

“Nnnh.” Steve nods tightly, hips working hard. “Yeah, oh. Yeah. M’gonna. Ohgn…””

His balls draw up tight and his cock jerks when Bucky takes hold of the toy’s base and starts slowly pulling it out. That feeling against his rim is what does it, pushing him over the edge and making the pleasure coalesce and snap.

He cries out sharply as he shoots, his body straining and hips pulsing, ribbons of white cum striping over Bucky’s naked stomach, one after another.

“Fuck, Honey. So beautiful. Fuck that’s a lot. Fuck. Lookit’ you, big boy.”

His cooing praise drags it out longer, and by the time Steve’s dick is spent and softening again, he’s collapsed forward against Bucky, mess of cum between them be damned. He rests his head on his shoulder and hugs him while he recovers. “Fuck,” pants, closing his eyes and enjoying the sheer relief of it all. “That was good. I needed that.”

Bucky hums and rubs his back. “Me too.”

When they finally peel themselves off each other, they’re faced with two wet, spent dicks, and the mess of cum that did not magically disappear just because Steve wanted it to. He sighs and climbs off the couch.

“Shower,” Bucky decides, and goes into the bathroom with Steve following behind. He starts the water running and shucks his joggers that he'd only just pulled back up. “Feel like we were just doin’ this,” he complains.

“That’s cause we were.” Steve pads over and stands against him, leaning in, chest to chest.

Bucky leans against the wall and wraps his arms around Steve’s lower back while they wait for the water to warm up. “Do you really want a girl?” he asks. “Like we used to do?"

Steve sighs and presses his forehead into Bucky’s chest. His first inclination is to say yes. They used to sleep with men and women, have threesomes a few times a year, for fun. They’d only stopped because they’d mutually fallen into contentment with married life. But Steve realizes it’s the way Bucky’s framed it: does he want to have threesomes again. With a girl. And the answer is no. Steve doesn’t want to have 'a threesome' anymore, with 'a girl', or 'a guy'. He doesn’t want anything casual. He says as much, and groans into Bucky’s skin. “I just want her,” he says. “I want it to be serious, and I want it with her.”

Bucky strokes his back, not saying anything for a long minute. “Yeah,” he eventually agrees. “Me too.”

Steve makes a mournful sound in his throat. “Can’t we try? Maybe ask her out on a date? She might come around if she doesn’t feel like we’re just trying to jump her bones straight away, y’know? We’ve never really had that time with her. It went straight from ‘how do you do’ to moving her in here with us.” Bucky’s chest rises and falls with a deep inhale, and his hands have stopped moving on Steve’s back, which is how Steve knows he's really thinking about it. “Buck?” he tries. “C’mon. Let’s just give it a shot. Linda said she needs sex anyways, and I know you don’t like the idea of her with another man.”

Against him, bucky growls grumpily.

“Just one more try,” Steve pleads. “Let’s just tell her upfront we have feelings for her and that we’d like to court her.”

Bucky snorts. "'Court’?”

Steve whaps him and pulls his head back. “You know what I mean. Nice stuff. Take her out, buy her flowers.”

“I know what you mean.”

They stare in each other's eyes as Steve reaches over to feel the shower water. It's warm. “It’ll be her choice," he says. "We won’t be bossy.”

“Kind of hard not to be bossy when she thrives on that.”

Steve gives him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “Yeah I know what you mean.” He pulls the curtain and goes to step into the shower, but Steve stops him from behind with a hand on his arm—his left one. “And this,” he says, looking at him with authority. “Let me take this off. And you keep it it off around the house like you used to do.” He watches the brief reluctance that plays out on Bucky’s face, but is relieved when his husband doesn’t turn it into a fight. “Thank you, babe,” he says, taking the arm off and setting it out on their bed before returning to the bathroom. Bucky’s in the shower, so he steps in and stands with him under the spray. He wraps his arms around Bucky from behind, letting his left hand drag up over his stomach and chest, up to the anchor site where it meets his pec. “You can be a good Dom without it, you know,” he murmurs.

“... I know. It was silly.”

He kisses Bucky’s shoulder. “Not silly. I love you.” In his arms, Bucky’s body bleeds all its tension and he lets a little bit of his weight come back through Steve, who kisses his neck again. “Tonight?” he asks, knowing that Bucky will know what he means.

Bucky nods. “Tonight.”

Bucky

“A bar?!”

"Yeah. Leave me alone."

Bucky stares helplessly as Mary kicks off her shoes and walks (stumbles, is more like it) through the apartment and back towards her bedroom. The conversation they've just had was short and completely non-productive, other than that it's got Bucky feeling like he's on the verge of blowing up. “Mare, stop! Come back here.”

She throws him the finger over her shoulder and pushes into her bedroom, shutting the door harshly behind her. Bucky growls and starts for the hallway, but Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder, pulling him back. “Hang on, Babe.”

“She’s drunk!” Bucky hisses, turning furious eyes to Steve. “Been missing for hours and now this?! How did she even get it?”

“I know, I know.”

Bucky snarls, mad at Steve for being so fucking calm. “Did you give her her ID back?!”

“No! Don’t be stupid, babe.”

His eyes cut over, sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “She’s thirty Hon. I’m sure there are plenty of bartenders who’d serve her without checking.”

“Well that’s just, just …” Bucky sputters, struggling to find the words. “There have to be consequences!” He starts for the hall again but Steve grabs him and pulls him back and into a restraining hug. Bucky kind of wants to hit him. “Steve!”

“Shh,” Steve says. “Sh sh, just hang on a second. Take a deep breath.” He holds him tightly, rubbing his back and nosing at his neck, and Bucky realizes that Steve is employing some of the things he’s learned at the CDP, trying to calm him down.

He blinks, noticing how hot his face feels, how fast his pulse is thrumming underneath his skin. He exhales shakily, feeling bad. “Fuck. I'm ..."

"Yeah."

"Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Steve whispers. “Maybe today’s not the best day, after all.”

Bucky’s eyes flick over in the direction of the kitchen table. “Better get rid of those, then,” he grunts, referring to the flowers Steve had picked up at the bodega for Mary.

“I will. And we’ll figure this out, find out what happened, and talk to her another day, okay? We'll get new flowers.”

“No, not okay,” Bucky insists, his anxiety ratcheting up again as he thinks of the state Mary just came home in. “We need to deal with her.”

Steve pulls back and meets his eyes, and Bucky feels like an asshole all over again. “What do you need?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky grits his teeth. To spank the ever loving shit outta that girl, he thinks but doesn’t say. He knows better than that, even on the verge of an episode, he can tell that he’s not being logical. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths, pulls away from Steve because he’s embarrassed. “Nothin’.”

“Hey, it’s okay to need—”

“It’s not,” Bucky snaps, walking over to the couch and dumping himself onto it. He feels kind of sick—likely his blood pressure making him nauseous. “How am I supposed to be a good Dom for her when I can’t even keep myself in check? Christ.” He shoves his face into his hand. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

Steve takes a minute, and when he approaches Bucky it’s with a gentle, careful expression that Bucky hates. “Babe, you know that makes no sense, right?” Bucky just grunts and Steve says, “That's like a diabetic saying they should have better willpower to control their insulin levels.”

Bucky glares at him for the trite comparison, wants to snap at his husband to stop quoting CDP literature at him. But that’d be nasty, and he bites his tongue. “No,” he grunts.

“You got told by Linda that you’re not giving her enough, not doing enough to meet her needs, and it’s been days since you really went up. You think I can't see that her drops aren't doing it for you now? You're too in tune with her. You both need more. And I should’ve seen this coming.” Steve sinks down to the carpet in front of him and kneels there reaching to rub his palms over the tops of Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky scowls at the gesture. “That’s not your job,” he says. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“I’m your husband,” Steve says, almost authoritatively, even though he’s keeping his voice soft and calm like the Center professionals taught him. “It’s my job to take care of you, always.” He rubs Bucky’s tense muscles from over his jeans. “Babe, c’mon. Let me help you.”

Bucky closes his eyes and counts to twenty. When he opens them again, Steve’s still there, waiting. Bucky reaches out and cups his face.

Steve presses into it. “Sir,” he whispers, eyes lowered.

Bucky feels so guilty at that, even as he can feel his blood pressure lowering from the small display of subservience. “I love you,” he says.

Steve smiles softly and squeezes his hands over Bucky’s knees. “I know.”

Bucky sighs. He releases Steve and slumps back into the couch cushions, feeling like the biggest burden. “I should call and book someone,” he says. Steve’s not a submissive and he shouldn’t have to play that role just to fulfill Bucky’s medical needs. Linda’s helped him come to terms with that over the years. Steve, the self-sacrificing punk, would do it anyway, but Bucky knows when he needs to ask for outside help. “Nathan can usually take me last minute.” Steve nods and stands up, brings Bucky his cellphone to make the call. He sits on the couch with him and pulls Bucky to lie with his head in his lap as he calls the Center and makes an appointment. “Okay,” he says when he’s done, tossing the phone aside. “Six-thirty. He’s coming in after hours just for little old me.”

“Good.”

Bucky’s eyes cut sideways towards the bedroom hallway. Their plans for the night are ruined, and if he didn’t have himself to deal with right now, he’d be hard pressed to keep himself from going in Mary’s room, trying to scold her. “What about her?” he asks glumly.

Steve snorts. “Little miss drunk? She’s probably passed out. Don’t worry about it. Besides,” he runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Can’t reason with someone when they’re like that. Discussion, punishment, scening? That’ll all have to wait until tomorrow, at least.”

Bucky makes a face and tries not to let his dominance start spiraling out of control again. “She’s going to AA.” Steve hums, and when Bucky looks up and catches his expression, Steve looks like he’s worrying for his safety. “Tomorrow,” he insists, obstinate. “I’ll take the day from work if I have to. Drag her there myself.”

“Maybe no dragging."

"Steve,"

"Linda first,” Steve suggests gently. “That’s a better first step, hm?” Bucky grunts, grumpy about it but knowing Steve’s right. He nods, and Steve runs kind hands through his hair. “Okay, good. That’s settled. Don’t have to think about it any more tonight.” He bends down and pecks a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “So, six-thirty?”

“Mmhm.”

“An hour. … You want to help me get dinner started before you go?”

Bucky nods, turning and pressing his face into Steve’s lower belly, rubbing his cheek against his soft tee shirt and warm body. “Love you,” he mumbles, feeling sheepish from his outburst before. He knows it’s not his fault, but he still feels inordinately grateful to have Steve supporting him. “You ever get tired of all this drama?”

“Shuddup,” Steve chuckles.

“Mm. You should leave me for a normie." He’s got his eyes closed against Steve’s stomach, but feels the reproachful pinch on his neck. “Ow.”

“If I’d wanted a normie, I’d have married a normie,” Steve scolds. He pets over where he pinched. “And apparently I’m a glutton for punishment, cause I’ve got my sights set on another one’a you jerks. This is just a setback. We’ll let her sober up, you’ll go see the Pro, and then when everybody’s in the right frame of mind, we’ll deal with it. Now come on.” He pats Bucky on the back. “Mary's not the only one who can navigate a kitchen. I’ve got a recipe for chicken piccata we can try.”

Bucky sighs. He’s so fucking in love with Steve, and he’s never got any good way to say it. There's nothing. Wedding vows barely scratched the surface. “Okay,” he says, because what else is there to do but agree? Like most times, Bucky knows his more level-headed husband is right about this.

They get up and go into the kitchen to start pulling the ingredients for chicken piccata, and Bucky is able to keep his mouth shut for a full five minutes before his anxiety ratchets back up and he returns to haranguing Steve about confronting Mary—possibly later that night.

*Next chapter starts out IMMEDIATELY with the big confrontation and beginning of their romantic and sexual relationship, so I promise y'all won't have to wait much longer!

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drdemonprince · 1 day

Note

Anon who yearns after his boss here with a follow up.

First of all, thank you so much for taking the time and effort to form such a detailed reply and to include your followers, I really appreciate it!

I’d like to elaborate on what I meant when I said it would have no impact on my job. I do volunteer work, so I am not financially dependent on this job, and my boss unfortunately leaves the company in a month and I would probably wait until then to make any sort of move. So no matter how this plays out, it will pose no risk to my livelihood.

To answer your question, this is a pretty common dynamic for me. For some reason I have been in a lot of work/school/etc. settings where an attractive older man sees potential in me, I start working extra hard because of it and he starts giving me lots of attention and we fall into a really intense mentor/mentee relationship. This dynamic is so hot to me that I just end up in top of my class or employee of the month or whatever from being fueled by pure lust lol. Nothing compares. But I’ve never managed to take it to the next level because I either chicken out or play it too straight forward, which doesn't work like you said.

As for what you said about straight men looking for attention from queer men to fuel their ego, that is a very real possibility. He hides his insecurity well by being a jokester, but he's obviously a sensitive guy. It wouldn't surprise me if this is more about his ego than about attraction.

Him not viewing me as a guy is also a possibility, but I don't care too much. I get so horny that I lose any sense of self lol. He does treat me like a man though. I work at the furniture department of a second hand store and he never underestimates me to be able to lift something heavy or assemble something. He also compliments me all the time on getting stronger and handier, and all the progress I’m making.

Then on the other hand, he treats me with a certain gentleness and intimacy that I don't see him portray to my other male coworkers. We’re able to confide in eachother and get vulnerable. He tells me secrets no one else knows, like how he'll be leaving the company soon.

There's all these little moments throughout the day, like we'll be assembling a bed together and he jokes about how it has a certain eroticism to it, or how it turns him on when we work well together lol. When he sees me implement something he taught me, he's beaming at me with the biggest smile. We also have this running gag where I pretend to be his boss and tell him what to do, and he's always very obedient which is hot but also shows that he trusts me.

I love your idea about meeting up outside of work, because that's exactly what I was planning lol! He's really into photography and I asked him if he wanted to meet up sometime to show me the ropes, and he very enthusiastically agreed! So if I were to make any sort of move, it would be then.

Anyway, I’m really curious to see what you and your followers think now with all this extra information.

JESUS CHRIST ANON THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING

this is only a volunteer position?? he's leaving in a month?? he compliments you on getting stronger??? and says that assembling a bed together has a certain intimacy to it???

waht the fuck dog. my only concern now is that he's being weird and unprofessional af with volunteers. but no concern for you. you're clearly creaming your drawers for it. i say play ball.

you made this sound more forbidden than it actually was because that's exciting to you, you little minx. i see you. you've gotten us all involved in your erotic game, now you can go enjoy it.

let's re run the stats on this

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dirty-droid · 1 day

Text

So I played through some more dbh last night and woke up thinking, God, there is a good reason Markus and Kara, and their respective companions never got as popular as Connor and Hank. Literally The Bridge is surrounded by the most *do everything for absolutely no reason* chapters, and there's no comparison.

First the Kara chapter wastes your time, she barely gets any small talk in with Luther, then the car breaks down, then you're just doing tiny tasks, doing a shitty sum up of her story so far when Alice asks you to make one up- they could have done something interesting with that story but they chose not to, literally anything specific anything that would function as a parallel to their journey would have actually had some value. Then you barely start a conversation with Luther, where are you maybe get a hint of his personality before we're back to just talking about the plot and Alice, but then it's over again and you meet the Jerries and you learn almost nothing about them.

It is a chapter where you do nothing interesting, and you learn almost nothing about the main characters, for a downtime chapter, I expect character development and get barely a sneeze of it. There is so much room and so much time for you to really push and question your main characters but it just doesn't get used.

Honestly I think the protagonists all could have probably really benefited from the audience getting to hear their internal monologues if they weren't actually going to talk to their companion characters, but even that would just be a substitute for decent writing.

Either way, after that, we come back to Connor and Hank, who do almost no tasks in this chapter, *but spend the entire time TALKING.* They talk to each other in a constant volley back and forth for the entire length of the chapter and it's probably one of the best chapters in the game, it's certainly one of the most important in their story. You spend the entire bridge scene learning more about Hank and Connor's inner worlds, and how they think, and how they feel, you spend the whole chapter learning so much about their perspectives, this chapter is all about asking the hard questions about both of their individual characters, and the tension is high, it's a straightforward chapter to play, and it really fucking feels like your choices matter here, there will be immediate consequences, not just walking through your environment trying to find the right answer, or being dragged through an interaction. It's just plain good.

And then Markus infiltrates the Stratford Tower, and you get the most boring and useless and frustrating chapter in the game that doesn't seem to serve any purpose beyond looking cool. If Kara's last chapter was only to gain sympathy and create some soft and fuzzy feelings, this chapter is only about looking cinematic. This is probably my least favorite chapter in the game, honestly I've just gotten lost on that yellow ass office floor building too many times, even though I'm very familiar with the game now I still managed to get lost again last night.

I will admit that eventually it does become an opportunity to decide between pacifism and violence but that seems to be the only real development for Markus, and it wouldn't have been hard to make that kind of opportunity in another setting. Because we get next to nothing watching him get past the front desk, or from walking around that floor, just some outfit changes and pretending to be a machine and a little more Android hate in the background, Markus is almost completely silent yet again, there is almost no talking with North once she appears. We actually get more about North's personality here than Markus', she just feels like she has more lines somehow, because sometimes she just talks without it being connected to the plot and Markus never does.

This bit is more speculative, but my fiance and I were going off last night about whyyyy did they have to break into the tower? We're never given any reason for what the steps are and why they are important, just usually pretty important in these mission impossible type scenes, they're usually explaining in a voice-over why they are taking the steps that they are taking. But we get no explanation for why he needs to go to the 47th floor or whatever, No explanation for why he needs to change into a maintenance Android uniform, why North was in the stairwell, how Josh and Simon got in, it's all just handwaved, and whyyyyyy they couldn't have just?? Made a recording and then hacked the station's broadcast remotely and basically just posted the speech? I don't know, it's just a particularly frustrating chapter to play, personally, but it isn't strong.

Either way, you've got two chapters with next to no character development, that just have a lot of empty space and time where the characters could have been talking or could have been doing something else, but didn't because the vibes were more important, sandwiching a simple scene with ten pounds of character development and it just feels weird. And once I noticed it, it just made the Kara and Markus chapters look incredibly weak and poorly written... And conversely, make the Connor and Hank chapter look much, much stronger in comparison.

It's like Detroit become human almost needs it's own type of Bechdel Test, just to show how much they fail Markus and Kara. "Do they talk about something that isn't the plot?"

"Do Kara and Luther talk about something that isn't Alice or getting to Canada?" "Does Markus talk about anything besides his speech for this chapter?" "Does Alice talk at all beyond basic communication with Kara?" "Does Markus or his buddies talk about anything that's not the revolution or just Markus himself?"

... They don't pass a lot.

It's just hard to take these characters above simply *likeable* when they just, don't, ever, talk. There's little to no development for Markus or Kara, and because they've just become deviants, there's hardly any character establishment in the first place, they barely even get the chance to just be flat, because if they don't really know who they are, we don't really know who they are.

Connor and Hank's friendship is more functionally the main plot, more so than the deviant investigation, and for Markus and the team, and Kara with Alice, that's simply just not the case, there is hardly any relationship, they're just in the same boat. This is why Connor got astronomically more popular, and why he and Hank have the staying power that they do.

Markus and Kara just don't ever talk, and Connor does. And I'm fucking mad about it. The amount of time that was just wasted in their stories, I could probably take a damn stopwatch to all the moments where there could have been a little something-something, and nothing was put there. It's not to say Connor doesn't get some quiet moments too but he always gets the chance to make up for it.

Even at the beginning of the Stratford Tower chapter, I noticed that they could have had Simon and North talking about something maybe unrelated when Markus walks up, but there's nothing, only silence until Markus comes in with a plan. And of course we know about every time Luther tries to bring up the fact that Alice is an android, only to be shut down and walked away from. It fucking kills me how much time Mark is has the focus of the camera but it's only so he could look cool for a minute, and share no thoughts of his own, none of his new feelings, everything is only implied and then followed by the action where he is only allowed to be the leader of the revolution and never just Markus. There's a tragedy in that, but they could have driven it home harder by *pointing that out.*

#dean talks to himself #detroit become human #dbh connor #markus dbh #Kara dbh #and it's not like i don't know there's racism and sexism in fandom and in production. obviously Connor is a white man. i didn't forget #and there's the insanity that happened with GR and creating all that personality for an asshole with four appearances throughout the game #which makes you wonder why didn't the fandom do the same for Markus and Kara bc wtf #But honestly the logic kind of tracks. GR showed so much personality and he has the benefit of being human so we can more easily extrapolate #we know what humans tend to do with their time and what they act like and we barely get to see any androids actually doing the whole #becoming human thing.#I've tried building them up in my head but I'll admit it's kind of hard. they're more blank slate than sandbox #GR is a human and Hank's foil and that's easy to extrapolate on. 900 is Connor but Better and that's easy to extrapolate on #i think we somehow see too much and not enough of Markus and Kara and it has us pressing the brake and the gas at the same time #just trying to figure them out around these points. it's like a damn maze and a lot of speculation that doesn't have anything to grab onto #it's just a damn crying fucking shame because there was so much time to spend on them and it just doesn't get spent on them #anyway rant over hope you didn't hate it

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