#visceral in doses
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That’s That Me, Espresso
Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader
A visceral in doses fic
Warnings: alcohol consumption, smut and mentions exhibitionism🤭 (bolded italics are flashbacks)
Takes place this summer
Mat has the perfect view from his floating in the pool. You’re on the chaise lounge, soaking up the vibrant sun rays. Your tortoise shell sunglasses sit perfectly on the bridge of your nose and you’re donned in the tiniest, pale yellow bikini. The cups of your top do the bare minimum at keeping you covered, but Mat has no complaints about it. He loves being able to see the sheen of sweat painting your skin, making it look extremely soft and silky. Don’t even get him started with the way your boobs rise and fall with every breath of air you take.
It’s like you know he’s watching when you adjust your form. His eyes follow the way your hips softly jut up so you can be more comfortable. Mat gulps down and leans his head back into the water, needing to cool down from your heated allure. But even with his eyes closed, he’s still taunted by the images of you behind his eyelids.
“Fuck, Maty. You feel so good,” you moan, hands pressed into his chest and your body straddling your boyfriend’s. His cock deep inside of you.
“Yeah, baby? You’re taking me so well,” he whispers, teeth nipping on your earlobe to make you lean into him.
Your boobs push up into his face and his mouth takes advantage of your nipples. He tugs and sucks at your stiffened peaks, drowning in the music that is your whimpers.
Mat’s hands go to your hips to guide you, but your body takes over. You bounce up and down, his leaking tip dragging along your wet walls. You grind into him and he hits your spongy spot. Your arousal increases and drips down his shaft. The squelching sounds intensifying your impending orgasm. After pleasure filled moments of taking him deeper and deeper, you start to swirl your hips from left to right and right to left. The movement lets you feel just how much he truly stretches you out. He fills you up in all the right ways; you swear you can feel him fuck into areas you didn’t even know existed.
“I’m gonna cum,” you announce, a finger circling your clit in tandem with your lower half.
“Cum for me, pretty girl,” your boyfriend encourages, hands glued to the cheeks of your ass.
The knot inside of your stomach snaps, throwing you into a dizzying, burning haze. Your back arches as your tight walls collapse around his cock. Mat’s finger takes over massaging your clit and that makes you go blind with ecstasy. Everything goes black as your body trembles furiously and you gush around his length. You fist his hair and pull his lips flush against yours, tongue thrusting into his mouth. He easily takes it into his mouth and sucks on it, tasting the remnants of his previous orgasm that you expertly sucked out of him.
Your sexy hockey player boyfriend shifts his hips, cock spreading you open all over again. You whimper and spasm against the muscles of his body. You’re so sensitive, any subtle movement of his has your cock-drunk pussy spiraling into another powerful orgasm. You clench down around him, keeping him tight and warm and making him see stars as he spills into you.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Your Pussy was made for me,” Mat’s groans rattle though your spent body as you continue to flutter around him, milking him for every single drop of his release.
A large hand wraps around your throat and pulls your face to his. His lips take yours and he steals whatever breath you have left.
Even in a relaxed state, Mat can’t escape the sight of your swiveling hips and the flush it creates on his neck down to his chest. It wouldn’t be a problem- the way you awaken his lust and cause his length to stir awake, but the fact that he has to wait until you’re done tanning is the problem.
It’s almost laughable the way Mat is so transparent. From your spot out of the water you can clearly tell he wants to take you exactly where you are. Impatience burns at his skin and you know that he wants nothing but to indulge in his lust.
You peer over at him from over the lens of your shades, catching a perfect glance at his hungry eyes. The usual hazel irises now mirror the espresso you had this morning. You flash him a knowing smirk, biting onto your bottom lip. The thought of his godlike body over yours sounds way too appealing.
God, you’re so lucky. You’re the one he craves; you’re the love of his life. All of his ex girlfriends and ex flings are nothing compared to you. You’re his living, breathing, dream. You feel nothing but pride, knowing that you’ve made him unattainable. You know, without a doubt, that one day you’ll be his wife and eventually have his babies. You shrug in nonchalance, happily accepting your fate while taking a sip of your sloshy margarita. The watermelon crush drips down your chin and you wipe it up with a single finger before popping it into your mouth, lapping up the liquid. Your action grabs Mat’s attention and pulls him out of the pool. You’re just too hard to resist.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Mat grins, droplets of water slipping down the defined ridges of his body as he exits the pool.
“Hey, hotshot,” you hum, taking another drink of the frozen goodness. The tequila burns your throat just right- almost like when you take your boyfriend’s cock into your mouth.
Mat pauses where he’s at, taking in the sight of you. You teasingly spread your legs open, your bikini covered heat begging him to come over. You silently call him to you with your pointer finger making a come hither motion.
“Hi, baby, can you put some tanning lotion on me?” You simply ask, holding out the bottle towards him.
“Of course, pretty girl.” He takes the bottle and squeezes the substance onto his palm.
Before he can start you flip over onto your stomach. You sport a cocky grin when you notice Mat’s eyes dip down to the curves of your ass. Now he knows why you had that familiar sultry lilt to your question; you were being a tease. With a deep breath he moves to start massaging the lotion into your legs.
His big hands take up so much space on your body and it drives you wild. Your core starts to drip and flutter, too bad you have to wait.
Moving onto your back, he takes his time and gives you a gentle massage. You practically melt into the lounger beneath you, especially when he starts tracing the letters of your tattoo. The feeling of his rough hands on your smooth skin is so enticing, because despite the roughness, he treats your body like you’re a goddess.
“That feels so good,” you moan and stretch out your limbs. Mat is instantly transported to his previous thoughts of you coming undone on top of him. Those moans are the exact same.
Without a word, your boyfriend delivers a hard smack to your ass. Your skin simmers under his palms and he grows hotter after hearing your whimper. The sting sends a jolt of pulsing desire to your pussy.
“You little shit,” you huff out, blowing some of your hair out of your face after Mat flipped you over by your hips. You throw a playful glare at him, but he just gives you a sassy smirk in return.
“You love me,” he says with a shrug and boy is he right.
You clench your thighs together as you’re desperate for friction. The way he easily manhandles you is one of the hottest things ever.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” you sigh, hands moving behind your back and pulling at the strings that hold your top up.
Your eyes lock onto your boyfriend’s, tension rising into the already humid air, and pull your top away from your chest. Your breasts fall free and every rational thought flees Mat’s head. He’s spent the entire time at the pool wanting you moaning and fucked out; he’s not waiting any longer.
Before he can make his next move, you place your foot on torso. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question. You hold the bottle of lotion out to him, humming in satisfaction when he reluctantly takes it.
This time his movements are with haste and he makes sure not to rub any on your exposed boobs. Not even your protest could get him to comply, but you quickly drop it in hopes of his perfect tongue swirling around your nipples.
After he’s done and the sun tan lotion is put away, he crawls over you. His hulking body looms over your smaller frame. To anyone else it’d look daunting, but it fills you with a carnal urge. Your hands ghost over his muscled chest and faint goosebumps appear on his skin. He leans down over your chest and takes a nipple into his mouth. You arch off the lounger and enjoy the way he nips at you. You card your fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands every time he sucks on you harder.
“Kiss me,” you whine, guiding his mouth away from your nipple and onto your mouth.
His tongue snakes between your lips, getting a taste of your margarita. The kiss is bruising and makes your body tingle; your heart accelerating with each caress. You pull Mat down on top of you, arms and legs wrapping around him. Your whine is swallowed by him as he grinds his clothed cock into your covered pussy. Pulling away, Mat takes a look at your glossy and plump lips, then he nibbles at them while you lay flaccid under him. His hands roam down your sides, painting you in a darkened flush that isn’t your tan. He fiddles with the ties of your bikini bottoms and slowly pulls them undone.
“I want you,” his voice is heavy with lust and it makes the hairs on your body stand.
Not feeling like replying, you rip off the bottoms to your bathing suit and then pull off his swim trunks. His member is thick and waiting for you. You give it a momentary fist until he knocks your hands away.
He grabs your waist and drags you closer to him. You let go of all control as he starts to roll your hips into him. Mat squeezes his cock between your folds, and each time you move, his angry, red tip massages your swollen clit. His length stiffens even more than it already is and it makes you want him even more.
“Please, baby. Please fuck me. Ruin me,” you beg, hands trying to put him inside of you.
“I got you, baby,” he shushes you.
He pushes into you with a gasp, making one fall from your lips at the delicious stretch. You’ll never get over the way his thick cock opens you up.
Mat holds himself up over you with his forearms pressing into the cushion. His thrusts are lazy, but you don’t care. Not when you can feel each of his veins rub against your tight walls. Even the vibration of his moans can be felt deep in your core, sparking up a fire within you. You move your hands to his back, falling more in love with the way his muscles stretch under his skin. You hold him tight because you need something grounding, something so you won’t quickly evaporate into the abyss.
“You feel so good, pretty girl,” Mat moans, his voice sickly sweet.
Your boyfriend tries to fasten his pace, but your slick walls won’t let him fully pull out. Looking down, Mat watches the way you suck him in and how your arousal collects at the base of his cock. The sight is erotic and Mat can feel his release start to bubble up.
You cup his cheeks, lips encasing his. The moment he sticks his tongue in your mouth you’re sucking on it like it’s the last thing you’ll get to feast on. You’re just about to tug on his bottom lip when your head falls back and a raspy moan claws its way up your throat. He nudged your g-spot with purpose; he wants to see you lost in rapture. He wants to see the way your chest heaves and your toes curl as you attempt to hold yourself together. Your nails dig into his skin and leave behind a trail of blistering red streaks. Those will have to be kissed on at a later time.
His hips bear down and snap into you, your breasts bouncing with every thrust. You can feel him bulge in your abdomen every time he lifts your lower half up to meet his movements.
“Oh my god! Yes, baby,” you shout, body running on nothing but margaritas and lust.
Your pussy starts to flutter around him, you’re slick dripping down his balls just as your tanning lotion now coats Mat’s skin. You wish so badly that you weren’t in the privacy of your own vacation home, so people can see and be jealous of the way your boyfriend tears you apart with his rock hard length. Something similar to feral grips at you, turning your rational mind upside down. You’d be called insane if people knew that you want the sound of the afternoon breeze to turn into moans of other people getting off on you and your man.
“Baby, you’re so wet. Is it all for me?” Mat asks as if he doesn’t already know.
“Yes! All for you,” you say with an affirmative nod.
Your core melts around him as he pushes deeper inside of you. You press your feet into the small of his back to keep him flush to you. His mouth is right next to your ear and his salacious moans set off your release. A soft hand goes to the nape of his neck and grips his grown out hair. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm surges through your body. Your twitching walls create a ripple effect and push his orgasm into motion. His hot cum shoots thick ropes inside of you as you quake underneath him.
With a low, husky grunt Mat slumps into your body. Your boobs become squished into his sweaty chest, but the feeling of his rapidly beating heart distracts you from the feel of the tackiness dressing your skin. He noses at the pulse point on your neck; his lips leaving delicate kisses and fresh bruises you’ll have to cover with makeup.
“I love you,” he mumbles into your collarbone before resting his cheek over your heart. His breath is heavy and his eyes are lidded, Luke he’s ready to fall asleep.
He slowly rearranges himself, his cock still keeping his release inside of you, making sure to softly drag out your orgasm.
“I love you,” you moan. His weight keeps you anchored down, so your overstimulation doesn’t sweep you away.
You gently card your fingers through his hair, each other’s bodies slipping into a state of tranquility. You eventually fall asleep wrapped up in Mat as the sun washes over the both of you in your throne of bliss.
a/n: So this is the first piece in a while that I enjoyed writing for visceral in doses. I hope you all enjoy it🫶
#mat barzal#mat barzal fanfiction#mat barzal x reader#mat barzal fic#visceral in doses#nhl imagine#nhl fic#new york islanders
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concept: me, several months ago, going to get my second monkeypox vaccine, and tbh putting it off for a few months because the experience of getting my first dose was so uncomfortable. I walk up to the first person I have to pass by. when she says "UM you KNOW this vaccine is JUST for gay men, RIGHT?" in a really judgemental way, instead of the real awkward response I gave, I instead say "oh, yeah, my boyfriend calls me a faggot during sex, it's all good."
#actually my second dose was pretty fine?#my first dose was AWFUL#i'm in general v open about my sex life but i HATED having to talk about my sex life with random healthcare professionals who said the#vaccine was just for gay men#ALSO BECAUSE. IT FUCKING WASNT?#IT WAS FOR MSM. SEX WORKERS. AND PEOPLE WHO HAVE SEX WITH MSM OR SEX WORKERS OR WHO OTHERWISE BELIEVE THEY MAY BE IN CONTACT WITH HIGH RISK#POPULATIONS.#ALSO LIKE. TRANS WOMEN.#it was so viscerally uncomfortable and I almost decided to not even get it in the first place because i was worried about something like#that happening. i was just like. well everyone else in the comm is probably getting it i bet herd immunity would protect me.#but also it felt irresponsible to go to queer orgies and pup play meetups etc without the vacc#my boyfriend DID have to actually order me as my dom to go get the second dose tho lol
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nothing pisses me off more than seeing self proclaimed cis allies sitting around talking abt trans folks like we're some sort of science project to be dissected
#like. oh. oh Visceral rage. i will tear your throat out with my teeth#terfs pretending 2 be allies. insane. 'this is the correct terminology and i only talk 2 Good transgendered individuals that take their#daily dose of transmisogyny from me with a smile! :))'#oh i want 2 rip and tear.#idk why it's setting me off as much as it is but idk#terfs are idiots everyone knows this but it's another thing to be 'well ACTUALLY i'm an ALLY you see :))' i will kick your teeth in.#god#sap says#i might delete this idk but i just needed 2 scream into the void for a moment
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On a completely unrelated note from my last post
Ive decided to increass my tdose by shortening my rotation to 7 days, which is the half life of testorsterone, bc ive been feeling crummy and fatigued at the end of the cycle
But i gotta remember that taking more t means i need to watch my anger, and not let myself get worked up too much
#yall ive been doing this for 9 years ik what im doing#ill probably end up lowering the dose in a few weeks if it feels high#then ill check my levels in a month or 2#but yeah ive been feeling better but also getting a little worked up lately#im really stressed about this exam on monday#it was a genuinely awful class and the prof is an asshole#and i hate economics on a visceral level#it sucks balls i finallh made it to quesrion number 139 on the study guide#only 25 more to go#like what the actual fuck#but still. not cause for rage. thats on me#im not a baby anymore i gotta watch my blood pressure
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Soaked
Bucky Barnes x female reader x Steve Rogers; Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers
Little Worshiper Masterlist
Main Masterlist
summary: After dinner, Bucky and Steve take you home for some dessert entertainment...
warnings: smut; consensual; D/s undertones; power imbalance; orgasm denial; a small dose of degradation
This is a follow-up to Drip.
Even if most of your fantasies included that view, you didn’t expect the dinner Bucky and Steve took you out on would end in their bedroom, with the two of them making out in all their naked glory.
Yes, a part of you hoped for more, since they left you empty and needy.
But you didn’t imagine yourself tied to the metal canopy, while the two super soldiers gave you a first row show.
They made you undress them first; tending to each of them like a servant to her masters. Their mouths teased your skin when they urged you to take off your own clothes, mocking the way your fingers trembled.
When Bucky led you to the bed, your heart and stomach were doing all sorts of somersaults in anticipation. Then everything froze for a long second, only to awaken in much stronger visceral reaction as he stretched your arms up and out in a V-shape and bound your wrists to the sturdy canopy.
Steve’s hand slipped down your spine, over your ass and between your legs; he cupped your wet pussy and hummed in satisfaction.
Then left you desperate.
You became a passive audience to the beauty and hotness displayed in front of you as both men climbed onto the bed and touched each other. Each kiss they shared, each moan they drew from the other one, increased your frustration. Not only you weren’t allowed to join, to at least give them pleasure like you had in the showers, but you couldn’t chase your own release.
You drank in all the details - how Steve liked to take the lead even when kissing Bucky senseless; the way Bucky didn’t hesitate to use his metal arm when gripping Steve; that Bucky tended to pull from a kiss tugging his partner’s bottom lip between his teeth; or how Steve’s eyes closed briefly when Bucky’s fingers combed through his hair.
And they were a stunning sight.
Masterpieces.
Heavy mass sculpted so perfectly. Not the contour of their abs, though it was impressive, but the slopes of their shoulders and asses, the soft lines of their faces contrasting with sharp jawlines.
Steve’s hands explored all over Bucky’s body, while the Soldier’s hands kept mostly groping Steve’s ass and pulling him closer.
When Bucky slid one of his hands between their bodies and squeezed their cocks together, you couldn’t help the whimper that fell out of your mouth.
Nor the way your empty pussy clenched in longing.
“Aww,” Bucky chuckled, glancing your way. “I think our little worshiper is enjoying the show.”
Steve angled his head, so that he could see your strung up body. He licked a broad stripe up Bucky’s neck, all the while maintaining eye contact with you.
“I guess we ought to make sure her attention stays where it’s supposed to,” he finally said, slowly pulling away from Bucky, “and not on that small, pulsing clit she’s trying to relieve by rubbing her thighs together.”
His sharp gaze flicked to where you were squeezing your legs together, searching for any sense of friction. Under his scrutiny and low warning in his tone your clit throbbed harder, your nipples stiffened into aching points.
They moved. Steve got off the bed and Bucky crawled towards you across the mattress. Their predatory attention roused your body further, quickening your breath as your gaze flicked from one to the other, your thoughts racing with ideas of what torment they may have in store for you.
Bucky’s breath tickled your belly as he leaned in really close. His lips ghosted over your skin, moving upwards to your breasts. He flicked one of your nipples with the tip of his tongue, laughing softly when your whole body seized at the slightest contact.
He distracted you enough that you forgot about Steve’s potentially evil plan. Until he knelt back on the bed and slipped a hand under one of your knees.
Steve pulled your leg up, so your foot rested on the mattress, then angled it to the side. With a belt, which he had to retrieve from the floor or one of their closets, he bound your ankle to the metal pole of the bed frame. Exposing your soaked folds and depriving your swollen nub from any stimulation other than mere gust of air.
“You’re such a pretty sight, starburst.” Steve praised, as he moved to kneel behind Bucky.
Both of them studied you like a magnificent piece of art - panting, desperate, helpless piece of art.
“She really is,” Bucky agreed, leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder. “We should keep her like that, Steve.”
Bucky arched slightly when Steve’s hands ran along his thighs. One moving up and splaying on Bucky’s belly, while the other fisted his cock.
“Displayed for our pleasure,” Bucky’s voice turned breathless as Steve’s fingers tightened their grip and began stroking him faster.
“Looking beautiful and hungry for any stimulation. Eager for our cum anywhere.” His hips rocked in rhythm with Steve’s pace; his own arm thrown around Steve’s neck, while his metal fingers dug into Steve’s thigh.
“On her tits, her face. In her sweet mouth. In her tight holes.”
“Fuck!” You couldn’t help the desperate cry.
You yanked on your bonds, but there was no way for you to get out of them. You couldn’t join the two men on the bed, feel their warmth or their touch, which you craved so deeply. Couldn’t even serve them, be good for them and earn praise for your devotion.
“Not yet, pet,” came Steve’s amused response. “Not for you, anyway. But you can enjoy the view of Bucky getting fucked.”
Bucky’s moan of agreement isn’t as enthusiastic as yours.
You never knew it can physically hurt to be so aroused, but your nipples ache as you watch Steve roll on a condom. Your walls flutter when he rubs lube between Bucky’s asscheks and stretches him on two fingers at first.
You’ve had half of Steve’s cock in your mouth before, unable to take the whole thing - neither could Bucky’s - and the thought of it stretching your other holes made you tremble both in fear and excitement. As he prepared Bucky, who was used to taking it after all, the pleasure written on the brunette’s face deepened your yearning.
Your hips jerked uncontrollably when Steve finally slid inside Bucky and their hips met as he bottomed out. Their combined groans had you dripping down your thigh.
And when you heard their whispered, almost broken I love you, your own heart sobbed in longing for the connection and devotion they shared.
Their pace was slow at first, building up the tension. You imagined them taking the time with you when they stretched you on their cocks, patiently allowing your unused holes to adjust, before they fucked you senseless.
Then the tempo quickened, Bucky’s ass bouncing up and down to meet Steve’s hard thrusts. One of Steve’s hands slid down Bucky’s abdomen, fingers slowly encircling his girth. Bucky’s own fingers clasped over Steve’s and they both started rubbing his length in practiced rhythm.
You wanted to be a part of it so much! Touch them in reverence; jerk Bucky off or have him in your mouth while Steve fucked him; taste their lips and rub yourself all over them. But you could only watch and drip for them.
“ ‘M gonna cum, babe,” Bucky groaned, squeezing his fingers tighter over Steve.
Steve’s responding growl was almost as desperate, betraying how close to completion he was himself. They shared a messy kiss, with Bucky’s head angled to the side.
Seconds before Bucky came with a short shout, Steve’s gaze flicked up to you. You stared into his blue irises, your own lips parted on heavy breaths, as he reached his own peak in a few hard thrusts. And though you weren’t touching them, nor feeling their warmth, you felt intimately connected.
Suddenly, it dawned on you, that you’ve been a part of that intimacy all along.
It gave you a sense of satisfaction unlike orgasm (though you still craved that, too).
Your head lolled to the side, resting against one of your outstretched arms as you watched a blissed out smile stretch on Bucky’s lips. Steve kissed his shoulder sweetly before detangling from him.
Through half-closed eyelids you followed Steve’s moves as he got out of bed and got rid of the soiled condom. Your attention piqued anew when his steps redirected your way.
“Come on, starburst,” Steve quickly untied you from the frame, keeping one of his arms gently wrapped around your middle to steady your wobbly body.
“Clean Bucky up,” he helped you get onto the bed, his hands staying on your hips as he added- “and I’ll clean you.”
You weren’t sure if it was the prospect of Steve’s tongue on you, or your eagerness to get a taste of Bucky, but a pitiful keen bubbled out on your lips. Steve’s thumbs ran soothing circles on your hips, Bucky cupped the side of your face.
“You’re doing so good, little worshiper,” Bucky smiled softly at you. “Now serve properly.”
He pulled your face toward his middle where splashes of cum glistened on his skin. You wetted your lips before leaning in and kissing the tip of his softening cock with a reverence worthy of a true worshiper. Then you licked one of the strips of thick cum running down Bucky’s abdomen.
The next stroke of your tongue turned messy, breaking on a loud gasp as you felt Steve’s tongue licking up the inside of your thigh.
You took a shaky breath, trying to focus again on your task and the feel of Bucky’s fingers caressing your head. It was proving rather hard with Steve’s mouth reaching your cunt.
“Oh, she’s soaked.” Steve sounded most delighted with the discovery.
When he pulled your thighs further apart and kissed your puffy folds in the dirtiest, hottest kiss you’ve ever experienced, you fell forward.
Your cheek pressed into Bucky’s belly, your hands gripping his thighs so tightly you almost broke his skin with your fingernails.
“How does she taste?” You barely heard Bucky’s voice over the rush of blood pounding in your head.
You moaned as Steve dipped his tongue between your folds and over your clit. A whine followed when he pulled away. You felt their bodies shift slightly and then a hum of muffled moans coming from above you.
When you tilted your head up, you saw Bucky and Steve kissing, sharing your taste.
“Delicious.” Bucky grinned then looked down at you.
He gripped the back of your head and lightly jerked his hips.
“Even worshipers tasting like a perfectly sweet-and-tart dessert have to remain dutiful, starburst. Get back to your task.”
You returned to kissing and licking him clean eagerly. It brought you tingling pleasure, especially when you managed to draw out little groans from Bucky. Part of your motivation was driven by the return of Steve’s mouth on you, as well.
To your great dismay, however, he’s done his task so strategically perfectly that he drove you to near climax, but stopped before you could reach it. Leaving you actually clean, but maddeningly frustrated.
When they deemed you’ve done well enough work on Bucky, they helped you up into a sitting position. Your side rested against Steve, while Bucky plopped down in front of you.
“We’d love for you to stay for the night with us.” Bucky invited, patting the soft covers.
Your gaze flicked from him to Steve. Your clit was still throbbing and if one of them just slipped a finger between your folds, or perhaps a thigh between your legs that you could grind on…
“To sleep, starburst,” Steve laughed softly.
“If you’d rather go home, I’ll walk you to your apartment.” He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger- “But you’re not allowed to cum, anyway.”
“Whether you’re in your own bed, or squeezed between us here, your orgasms belong to us,” Bucky smirked.
You frowned. Couldn’t stop the pout from forming on your lips, either. They’ve been holding you on edge for so long, denying you the peak of satisfaction.
At the same time, what they’ve given you has brought you sensations you’ve never focused on before. And servicing them was a pleasure and kind of completion itself, though you never considered it could feel like this.
“Poor thing,” Bucky propped his head on his hand, his smirk turning into a grin. “She fears we’ll never let her cum.”
“Ridiculous thought.” Steve flashed you an equally evil grin. “She’s so good for us and good little worshipers get rewarded. Eventually.”
“So-” Bucky rolled onto his back and wiggled up the mattress, until his head rested on a pillow. He pulled up the corner of the covers and slid beneath it. “You want to stay the night, or get back to your place?” He asked, keeping the covers up in invitation.
You huffed and sagged a little. You did notice how Steve welcomed more of your weight resting against him, his mischievous grin softening into a fond smile.
“I’d like to stay,” you grumbled, glaring at them when they laughed at your petulant tone.
Sexual frustration still kept you on edge as you settled next to Bucky, spiking higher when Steve pressed against your other side. But it slowly melted into a sense of comfort and safety the more minutes passed with you cocooned in their warmth.
#stucky x reader#stucky x you#stucky x female reader#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers#bucky barnes x you x steve rogers#stucky imagine#little worshipper universe
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In honor of the holiday dearest to tumblr, the ides of March, can King! König get another attempt on his life? Poor guy is probably bored
Oh my god of course, how silly of me to neglect him like this. Have a couple assassination attempts.
You wake up before König does, a light sleeper by practice not by nature. You yank yourself out of his firm gasp to sit up at the first odd noise, and you think that's what rouses him more than anything else. More than the knife poised over him, or the shadow clad assassin that hovers beside the bed. You stare at them as your king blearily pushes himself into wakefulness. Just enough to grab the assassin's wrist and jerk it to the side with a sickening snap.
The knife falls with a pained whimper, grabbed tight by König and flipped clumsily in his tired hand to be forced into the side of the assassin's neck. König yanks the knife free of its ghastly lodgings and blood spurts over his hand. The assassin pitifully grasping at the wound as he collapses back, crimson painting every direction he turns. König tosses the knife into his chest, it sticks with a solid thunk, as the man writhes.
You're gathered back into your king's arms with a tired grumble, and dragged down to the mattress. König is wet with blood, the drip of it smearing the pillow as you shudder at the slick gurgling coming from the side of the bed. König seems unbothered, his breathing even and regular, his hands gripping you with the same possessive tightness he had before your sleep was interrupted. Your heart hammers in your chest. You don't sleep.
-
König pauses what he was saying, staring down at his cup with rapt attention. You sip your own wine with a raised brow. His eyes grow darker, hungrier, the longer he stares. Redder, you think, he gets this glow to his eyes, murderous and blood tinged, when he's particularly excited. You glance at the servants in the room, all of them standing at rigid attention. He's already standing when your eyes grace him again. You settle your cup on the table and blink at the discolored metal. Ah.
You fish through your pockets for your charcoal, and eye the unfortunate soul still holding the wine pitcher. Actually as far as poisons go, you're finding this one rather mild. You lick the last drops of wine off your lips and decide on another sip. It can't do any more damage than it's already doing, and focusing on this is easier than focusing on the awful crunch of bone against bone.
Your stomach turns, you're unsure if it's the arsenic or the knowledge that König has no sword on him, and yet you can still hear the visceral squelch of blood. You hazard a peak in his direction and catch the raise of his fist, blood dripping from his knuckles into the concave remains of the wine-bearer's face. König, for all his frenzied glee, has a stillness about him that unnerves you. His body poised to put all its power into every beat of his fist against the bloodied pulp he's already reduced the would-be assassin to.
You raise a hand for König's aid and he's beside you without fanfare. You swallow and settle your cup on the table, breaking off charcoal from the stick you carry. "Would you find out who else touched the wine?" You ask, polite and collected to hide the way your bones are starting to shake, "and order some vervain in hot water." The man bows and disappears as quickly as he'd shown himself.
You chew your dose of charcoal, force yourself to swallow the sludge before you turn your attention to the king. His heaving shoulders and blood splattered clothes prickle like ice over your skin, exciting and terrifying in the same breath. You wonder sometimes if these attempts on his life aren't without good reason.
-
You don't know why the fuck you're here, except that König asked you to be and you didn't have an excuse quick enough. The kingdom is airing their grievances, mostly the general populace complaining about uneven roads, crops dying, taxes still being too high. There's always too much that König would have no hope of solving, but through divine right has to listen to. You're only here to ask about moving your perennials to a different bed. You didn't think you'd have to go through such a demeaning process just to do something you were going to do anyway.
You think König gets a kick out of seeing you bow in front of other people.
Not that you get a chance to. The relatively tedious and boring display interrupted by the flash of knives and the death grunts of several guards. The instant panic that the collapse of the king's protectors sends through the crowd leads to a stampede towards the chamber doors. It's the sort of atmosphere you know König relishes, pulling a sword from the guard nearest him and thrusting it through the nearest assassin's middle. He rips the sword skyward, stopped only by the man's sternum. Though you suspect even that wouldn't have stopped König if another hadn't lunged for him.
You're pushed by the crowd, but you hardly feel it, too focused on the draw of König's sword through the air, the way it slices through a man's neck and turns to pierce his chest. There is a madness to the way König moves, nothing short of joy spreading through him as he turns and brings the sword down hard between another man's eyes. Three lives ripped away without a scratch on him.
He holds his sword as his side, rolls his shoulders as he eyes the last assassin, baiting the man into action. You watch, with your breath held, as the man darts forward and plunges his knife into the meat of König's stomach. Your heart hammers against your ribs, anxiety twisting your stomach as König drops his sword.
Two big hands fix themselves on either side of the man's head, and twist sharply to one side. You may be the only person in the room to head the snap of it, to see the jolt of death's motion through the body before it goes limp, held aloft only by the king's hands. Your breath catches in your throat as König tosses him to the side and tugs the knife from his stomach.
It's hard to tell which red is from the blood, and which is from his usual clothes. You don't try to identify either one, frozen where you stand as König turns and walks out of the room. People file past you, still pushing and shoving in a panic. A servant grips your arm, your eyes still fixed on the throne.
"The king is asking for you," they tell you.
"Right-" You mutter, before you can shake yourself awake, "right, yes, of course." You swallow, pull your wits about you, and offer them a smile. "Lead the way."
There are many reasons you cannot be queen, a lack of affection for the king isn't one of them.
#cod x reader#x reader#x oc#cod x oc#könig x reader#könig cod#könig mw2#könig call of duty#call of duty#konig x reader#oc: liebling#king!König#medieval au#tw violence#tw murder#let the man be an animal
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german words i wish existed in english
a messy and incomplete list
nachvollziehen (v.) -- to understand, but less empathetic. i.e. i see the steps that brought you to that conclusion, but i don't understand you.
doch (interj.) -- you're wrong and really it's the opposite of what you said. often said with a healthy dose of sass. i.e. "this isn't a good movie." "doch. (it is)"
frech (adj.) -- somewhere between naughty and sassy and silly. when you're being a bit of a brat, you're being frech.
dreist (adj.) -- audacious, but far more colloquial. when you have the goddamn audacity, you are dreist. i.e. to park that far over the line is dreist as hell
heimat (n.) -- home, but stronger. a home is wherever you have built a life, but heimat is where your roots are. heimat is where you feel pangs of nostalgia when you go to visit your family for christmas and see the shop at the corner.
weltschmerz (n.) -- literally 'world-pain'. the world sucks and sometimes you just sit and feel the pain of it all. that's weltschmerz.
existenzberechtigung (n.) -- the right to exist, often in a comedic context. i.e. pineapple on pizza has absolutely no existenzberechtigung.
fernweh (n.) -- literally 'far-ache'. the opposite of homesickness, the desire to go far away. i guess wanderlust is similar, but that is also a german word, and this is more painful and visceral
schweigen (v./n.) -- the act of not speaking. silence, but more deliberate. the palpable feeling that people are withholding their voice.
verschlimmbesserung (n.) -- when an update with the intention of making something better actually just made it worse. looking at you @staff
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Ok I have a question and if I asked this before sorry my memory sometimes bad.
So you said peach's died on the journey with her husband's. How did she die? And did they get revenge for her. Also at this point you would think peach's is there soulmate but peach's not liking it.
And dose she have a Mark of how she died as a brith Mark?
And what was Macaqa and sun frist meating with peach's like?
I really love your work
(tw, slight mention of blood and gore)
went on a bit of a tangent :)
reader was killed during a demon ambush. everybody was busy fighting the demons, and while reader was hiding, one of the demons escaped the warlords' notice. she didn't even have time to scream. it killed her, and then took and ate her body.
macaque was the first to realize her absence, of course. reader wasn't able to make much noise as she died, so he just thought she was scared, but... imagine his horror when he can't hear her heartbeat. he quickly dissapears into a shadow, leaving the fight behind. he checks where reader was hidden, and finds only a small puddle of blood. his breathing quickens as he follows the blood a ways further into the woods. he can feel his rage and anguish growing.
there, in a clearing, a rogue wolf demon seems to have just finished its meal, it's tongue licking the excess gore from its teeth. shreds of reader's clothing lay scattered at its feet, along with her satchel and book.
macaque bears his teeth in an enraged snarl and roars at the stupid beast. struck by grief, he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his face as tears gather in his eyes.
the sound of his anguish echoing against the trees was enough to summon his brother; wukong, covered in the gore of his slain enemies, appears at his side. the king takes quick stock of the situation, and comes to the same heart-shattering conclusion as macaque.
she's gone. she's gone and this wretched creature destroyed her.
reader is dead.
the rage he feels rivals the burning of the stars.
the two bring down the full fury of their combined might upon the wolf demon. the warlords drag out their dismantlement, tearing the stupid creature apart peice by peice. once the offending beast is little more than a visceral stain on the ground..
...the brothers hold one another, attempting to ground each other through the torrent of their pain. they've lost their one, their only.
their dear reader, their beloved peach....she's dead. all because they took their eyes off her for a second, all because they were made to come on this cursed journey. were they not charged with protecting that blasted monk, they could have prevented this. wukong and macaque come to the same conclusion; they will not soon forgive the ones who brought them here.
the monkey demons gather reader's things, holding them as gently as glass...it's all they have left of her. not even a body to bury back home on their mountain.
the other pilgrims need only see these items and the baleful, enraged, tear-stricken looks on their companions' faces to know what must have happened. wukong and macaque say nothing as the monk says a prayer for her.
the two leave for a while.
they don't come back for three months.
when they do return to the journey at the behest of the heavens, they are reserved. withdrawn. they keep to themselves, only intervening when the pilgrims are in danger they can't solve themselves.
———
the monkey king and the six-eared macaque complete the journey. they refuse their new titles; the rage that simmers in them is far too great for the roles they've earned.
the monkey warlords go home. they grieve, properly this time, alongside their subjects.
the next few hundred years are especially brutal for any enemies of flower fruit mountain and it's king. without his queen, he forgets what it means to be merciful.
———
many centuries later, wukong finds a little monkey demon boy, seemingly sprung from the same stone he did. wukong adopts him, names him xiaotian, and teaches him to become a ruthlessly efficient warrior.
the child grows up hearing the occasional story about the mountains' queen, a once-mortal woman who held his father's (and uncle's) heart in her hands. his caretakers can't bring themselves to speak about her often, but they speak softly and fondly when they do. he hears stories of her adventures on the mountain; how she made friends with her subjects, worked in the kitchens and orchards, and cared for the mountain's children.
both wukong and macaque tell xiaotian that reader would have loved him dearly.
the small shrine in the palace temple (a satchel, a heavy book with nothing written in it, a few scraps of bloodied cloth displayed next to daily offerings of peaches) and furniture in his father's room (the combs, hairpins, and perfume bottles untouched but lovingly dusted) don't tell him much about who "reader" was—but the stories from the people who knew her do.
he wishes he could've met her.
———
when the boy reaches a certain age, he asks to go stay in the mortal world. his father reluctantly agrees.
xiaotian goes to the city, battles the dragon girl mei, befriends her, and allows her to teach him how the city works. she takes him to a noodle shop belonging to one of her friends, a gruff but earnest pig demon named pigsy. there, he meets mei's other friends; a gentle blue giant named sandy (and his cat, mo), a studious yet freeloading human named tang—and a friendly human woman who works at the shop...
...who happens to be nicknamed reader.
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HOLY FUCKING SHIT HAZBIN WAS SO FUCKING GOOD IM GOING INSANE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKENFKCMKWJRKFNSMSMDMSMDN-
Okay. Okay deep breaths. Time for some cool and collected comentary. Okay.
Putting it under the cut so ppl can avoid spoilers :)
HUSK USED TO BE AN OVERLORD!?!?!?!?!? HELLO!?!?!?!?!? FUCKIN PLOTTWIST OF THE CENTURY WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!?!?
Huskerdust my beloved
SIR PENTIOUS MY BELOVED
Vox was great. I love him he's so fucking cool-
If Vox wasn't already a Tumblr sexyman he's definitely gonna be one now. He's so fucking Onceler coded it's insane.
Velvette was amazing too. It's so funny that she's British lmao I was not expecting that
Velvette is also very Anne Boelyne(like from SIX not from Real Life) coded it's wild. Her part in that song with Carmila was giving so much Don't Lose Your Head
I swear I'll stop comparing them to other characters I SWEAR
Okay but me and my brother are working on a Hazbin Hotel swap AU where we swap the main cast with the overlords and in that AU we swapped Husk and Vox. The Husk used to be an overlord reveal is gonna make that AU soooooo much easier lmao
ADAM IS REALLY GOOD I promised I would stop comparing to other characters but he was giving SO MUCH Hades from Disney's Hercules like its insane
I think we should let Alex Brightman sing rocj and roll more often that song was such a fucking BANGER
SPEAKING OF THE SONGS- oh my god I love the soundtrack so fucking much-
Stayed Gone was a lil less hype then I was expecting but thats okay cuz it was still a banger and I loved the visuals
That song battle between Carmilla and Velvette????? Oh my god??????
Carmilla and Vaggie's song was also amazing but I think I know why they didn't have Stephanie Beatriz sing her own song in Elena of Avalor y'know, girl cannot hold a character voice while singing
LOSER WAS SO FUCKING GOOD- I love Huskerdust so much. I love Keith David so much. Blake Roman is such a phenomenal Angel Dust.
SPEAKING OF all the voice actors are amazing. Blake Roman, Brightman as Pentious and Joel Perez were the ones I was the most worried abt but I loved all their preformances so much it was fucking fantastic
Valentino can go die in a fucking hole <3
The other Vees are cool and fun to watch but I hope Valentino fucking dies
Okay to be fair he's also fun to watch when he's not in the same room as Angel Dust but tHAT DOESNT SUPERSEID MY HATRED FUCK 👏 THAT 👏 GUY 👏👏👏👏
Speaking of the Vees tho I do love their dynamic
My favorite episode was probably Radio Killed the Video Star bcuz of mY BOYS PENTIOUS AND VOX!!!!!!!!
And the most painful episode to watch was- no surprise- Masquerade
That episode was a fucking rollercoaster Jesus fucking Christ...
Those scenes with Angel and Valentino where so fucking visceral... like. Who the fuck wrote that. Who are you. Are you okay. Do you need help-
Tho I'm not sure abt how they're handling the ah- more serious bits of Angel's character. It is WAYYYYYY to early to tell and I think Loser wasn't like. Trying to downplay the situation. But the writers better have been careful moving foreward bcuz I can def see a world where Angel's arc goes very wrong very fast-
Also while we're criticizing: wasn't a fan of the pacing. Especially in episode two. Like I can look past it, but the way they breeze past some plot points kinda bugged me
Otherwise it was sooooooo fucking good man oh my god
THE HUMOR WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN PPL MAKE IT OUT TO BEEEEEE PPL NEED TO STOP SHITTING ON THE COMEDY IN THESE SHOWS MAN-
The gag where Niffty just fucking stopped thinking every time the camera turned on was so fucking good
Niffty in general was really fuckin funny
Alastor was a lot less prominent of a character then I thought he would be but tbh I think that's for the best. He's like Discord from My Little Pony, fun in small doses but if you don't set perameters for how often he appears and when he's willing to help it kinda breaks the show
Chaggie is adorable and I love them <3
I think this show does a really good job balancing the focus on the whole cast! These first 4 episodes seem to be pretty Charlie, Angel and kind of Vaggie heavy but everybody still gets their fair share of attention!
THE ANIMATIOJ OH MY GOD- IT WAS FUCKING PHENOMENAL IM LOSING MY M I N D
Im going feral IM GOING FERAL THIS EXCEEDED MY EXPECTATIONS AKFNVKKENFEKFNDN
I love comedy. I love musicals. I love drama. I love silly characters. I LOVE ANIMATION!!!!!!!
It's like the South Park movie but longer and better animated and IVE BEEN WAITING FOUR FUCKING YEARS-
Just. So excited overall. Can't wait to see where it goes. May make more posts abt my thoughts in tbe future.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel spoilers#hazbin spoilers#<- just to be safe#hazbin husk#angel dust#huskerdust#sir pentious#hazbin vox#hazbin velvette#hazbin adam#carmilla carmine#vaggie#hazbin valentino#hazbin niffty#hazbin alastor#charlie morningstar#chaggie
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Eddie laughs from his position between Steve’s legs in the large bathtub, holding his glass as he rests his head back against Steve’s shoulder. Hot water soaks his muscles, sore everywhere that’d been so full of the man behind him.
He feels Steve’s arms wrap around his torso to pull him closer at the same time that warm, burgundy-stained lips brush his temple. Eddie’s glass tips just a bit, the unexpected movement sending sips of red wine into the bath water. He thinks for a moment that there’s something poetic about the red wine in the clear water, the way it mirrors the way Steve had helped clean his wounds in the same bathtub just months back.
Unfortunately, poetry only exists in hindsight. The blood wasn’t beautiful until Eddie had Steve to link it to, nor was the wine– it was just red.
happy first birthday to over the hills and far away, written by @thefreakandthehair with art by @artgroves!
wow. I can’t believe over the hill and far away is a year old today. that means it's been a whole 12 months since I tore out a piece of my soul and posted it on the internet just hoping for the best. writing this fanfiction was a journey and viscerally cathartic.
we all have past experiences that we look back on, not with regret but with a healthy dose of “what if?” what if someone picked up a phone? what if the wind blew in another direction and changed the course? what if just one tiny thing had been different? what would life have looked like?
there are big chunks of over the hills and far away that are lifted directly from one of my past experiences, one that I used to wonder about. life is weird and I’m very happy with where I landed, but it was so poignant to slice up that chapter of my life and write a new ending for it.
anyways, happy first birthday to over the hills and far away! you’ll always be my baby. 💕
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#steddie fanfiction#steve harrington x eddie munson#eddie munson x steve harrington#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#myfic#over the hills and far away#time can't be real because how has it been a YEAR????
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Champion In The Bed
mat barzal x model!fem!reader
a visceral in doses fic
warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT (very little spanking, teasing, and slightly edited) let me know if I missed anything
takes place February 2024
You follow Mat’s gaze as you’re sitting, straddling his lap and leaning back on your hands. He ogles your jersey and backwards cap clad form, and it’s not just any jersey, it’s his all star skills jersey. The material hangs off your body as it’s too big for you, but it does a nice job at hiding your black lingerie. His eyes pick up on the way you come off shy, but your fingers fiddling with his happy trail tells him otherwise. His hands rub your thighs and he subtly goes higher until they’re hidden under the jersey. Your body breaks out in chills just from his touch alone.
Everything feels like it’s in slow motion. It’s obvious that it’s Mat’s goal to tease you until you’re at your wits end. You attempt remaining stoic so he doesn’t know just how bad you want him, but each time he licks his lips or lets his eyes dip down to your covered up cunt, you feel your resolve start to disappear. It doesn’t help that he’s completely naked underneath you. His length stands at attention, waiting to be touched by you.
“Maty,” you whisper and softly adjust yourself so you’re leaning in closer to him.
“What, pretty girl?” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear after pulling his cap off your head, and you so badly want to suck his fingers into your mouth.
“I’m so proud of you. My hotshot, hockey boyfriend who is an all star. Fuck the skills comp, at least you can get me to cum. Plus, you looked so sexy in your jersey,” you whisper the praise in his ear, nipping at the lobe to get a small moan out of him.
“Not as sexy as you look in it,” he compliments as the tip of his nose trails along a vein in your neck. Your smooth, sweet perfume consumes him.
“Let me show you how proud I am. Let me ride you,” you plead, letting your lips on his jaw persuade him. You slip his cap back onto his head, backwards of course. He’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen, and it makes you insanely wet, you can feel it pooling in your underwear.
Your hips start to move on top of him, but his hands quickly land on your hips to halt your movements. You let out a disappointed huff that makes him chuckle.
“I thought this was about me?” He tuts and you nod your head in agreement.
“Then you’re going to be my good girl and wait until I’m ready for you to show me just how proud you are,” he chastises with a spank delivered to your ass. You let out a faint moan and throw your head back in frustration. He’s touching you but not enough and not where you need him most.
He lifts the jersey halfway up your torso, fingertips gliding over your soft skin. He unveils your see through, lacy panties. You notice the way his jaw clenched and the way his hands gripped the jersey tighter. He is having a tough time, too.
“As much as I love you wearing my jersey, I prefer you naked,” he grabs your chin, lips encompassing yours.
Your hands press into his chest. The feeling of his strong muscles drives you crazy. He slowly pulls the jersey off of you, watching the way you shiver and the way your nipples grow hard.
“Fuck. Look at you. My girl is so sexy.”
He presses a kiss to your neck and softly sucks on your skin until his mark is left behind. His lips move down to the tops of your breasts while he thumbs at your nipples over your lacy bra. You subconsciously arch into his touch, getting him to unclasp your bra expertly with one hand. He sends you a cocky smirk and a wink, and if you weren’t already soaked, that’d probably do the trick.
His thumbs tuck into the thin straps of your thong before sliding back out. He drags a finger from your bellybutton down to the top of your underwear. Before you can even figure out what he’s doing, Mat rips your thong in half.
“That was brand new,” you gasp.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll buy you a lot more when we get home,” he shushes you.
He fiddles with your “13” pendant on the chain around your neck before he pushes you to lean back like you originally were.
“Baby, please. Let me fuck you, please,” you beg as he starts to fist his cock.
He bites on his lip -something he does when he’s being a tease- and nudges your clit with his angry and leaking tip. You let out the sweetest moan and try to move your hips for some kind of friction. Sadly, he stills your movements and shoots you a warning glare. He suddenly lifts you up, pulling you closer and slipping his length in between your folds.
“C’mon, pretty girl. Make a mess,” he instructs you, guiding your hips back and forth until you start to move on your own.
Your hips start slow, trying to get used to the pleasure of this type of teasing. The more wet you become, the easier it is to grind against his length. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders for support and you let your arousal coat your boyfriend.
Your cunt practically jerks him off without him actually being inside of you, and you make sure to rub your clit against the veins of his shaft. Your pleasure drags out along his girth, moans spilling from the seam of your lips. His eyes are glued to the way you work yourself on him, feeling himself start to pulse. Your sticky slickness is a good look on him.
The look of lust that washes over your features turns him on even more, because he’s the one who’s making you feel this way.
“I think I’m going to cum,” you whisper. The pressure on your clit and the fact that Mat’s letting you make a mess on him drives you fast to an orgasm.
“Not yet,” he says, lifting your body off his lap and placing you on his thigh.
Your body is already thrumming, and your orgasm is lingering in your stomach ready to burst at Mat’s signal. You grind against his thick thigh, the hard muscle stroking your clit just right. He flexes the muscles in his thigh and then relaxes them. The action sends a vibration through you and that electricity drives you to the edge. You're barely holding onto your release, but the sensation is quickly making you crumble. You buck your hips faster and you hear the blood rushing to your ears as you continue to throb on top of him. Your wet cunt contracts around nothing and you so badly want his dick inside of you.
“Please, Maty. I need you. I want you inside of me,” you plead and he quickly hauls you off his thigh and pushes into your pussy in a quick stroke.
Your arms lock around his neck as you bounce on his cock, body on fire with how deep he hits inside of you. Your breasts sway in front of him and he shoves his face between the supple flesh. His mouth ravages your skin until you’re left a whimpering mess.
You rut up against him, screams clawing up your throat each time his tip massages your sweet spot. Your hands grab onto the bill of his cap, pulling it back to make tufts of hair stick out and stick to his forehead.
“Yes! Yes! Oh my god. Right there, baby. Fuck yes,” you let the scream rip through your entire body as heat and tingles start to spread beyond your stomach. You bounce down harder as your pussy continues to take him deeper. His hands grip your ass to try to slow you down, but the way your arousal drips down his shaft makes him lose his sanity.
“You better not cum. I can feel your little pussy squeezing down on me,” he grips your throat and speaks into your mouth as you slant your lips over his.
“I’m gonna cum,” you cry, mouth opening in a loud moan during your wet kiss.
Mat abruptly pulls out of you, ignoring your whimpers as he rises to his knees. He loops his arms under your knees, picking you up so your body is completely under his control. He thrusts back into you, using his grip on your hips to slam you down on him.
“Harder,” you whine, throwing your head back. Your chest heaves and you try to match his thrusts but his grip is too tight. You’ll have delicious fingerprints on the dips of your hips later. You feel your body start to shake, your orgasm looming over you. The way Mat bulges in your stomach drags him to the brink of his orgasm.
“You’re so sexy, baby. My needy girl, you like the way my cock feels deep inside of you?” He questions cockily. He knows you're enjoying it by the way your eyes keep rolling to the back of your head and the way you quiver in his grip.
“Yes, Barzy, yes!” You shout, looking dazedly at your man. His cap sits prettily on his head, his chain bounces with his movements, and the way he glows in sweat makes you dizzy. A new flurry of fire rushes to the tips of your fingers and toes. Your pussy clenches in desire.
“I’m gonna cum,” you cry.
“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he grants your wish, pounding into your boneless body.
Moans spill from his mouth as your warm, slick walls flutter around his cock and your orgasm surges through your body. Your all star looks deep into your eyes as he continues to drill into you until your nonsensical mewls become mixed with his grunts.
“Cum for me, baby,” you rasp.
He pulls out, laying you back on the bed and strokes his cock. His fist moves fast. A red flush blooming on his neck and chest as he feels his balls tighten.
“Yeah, baby. Just like that. My hot ass, all star boyfriend. Just like that, baby. Cum for me,” you spur him on, circling your clit for extra motivation.
“Fuck,” he whimpers as ropes of cum squirt onto your stomach.
You scoop some of his expense with your finger and pop it into your mouth.
“I love you,” he says as you obscenely moan around your digit.
Mat pulls your finger out of your mouth and replaces it with his tongue, making you even more breathless.
“I love you, baby. I’m so proud of you,” you press a chaste kiss to his lips and chest. One hand rests on his back while your other rests on the back of his neck, fiddling with the hair hidden underneath his hat. Your legs tighten around his hips to keep him close.
“Never leave my side,” he requests, tracing the pendant of your necklace.
“Never,” you assure him, combing your fingers through his hair as he cuddles into you, head resting on your chest and a hand placed on your stomach.
There’s nothing that can be compared to this feeling.
a/n: This was written fairly quickly so sorry if it’s all over the place. Enjoy!!
#mat barzal#mat barzal fanfiction#mat barzal fluff#mat barzal angst#mat barzal blurb#mat barzal x reader#mat barzal smut#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal fic#nhl imagine#nhl fic#new york islanders#visceral in doses
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return the favor {chapter 21}
Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader
Summary: After an explosive fight the night before, your trio gets ready to depart from Jackson. Finding yourself back on outside the gates, everything seems different. But then again so are you, so are your circumstances.
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical angst, canon typical violence, use of weapons, use of guns, use of machete, fighting, violence, reference to previous injuries, reference to past traumas, ptsd symptoms in both joel and bean, self-depreciation, super fucking sad moment in scene two of this one, MAJOR ANGST, yelling, conflict, emotional baggage, talk of outbreak day, medical jargon, reader has a lot of thoughts on a cure for the virus, existentialism
A/N: inspiration for this chapter was 'let it burn' by shaboozy. these two have grabbed a hold of my thoughts and i am writing pages like a mad woman. bean and joel mean so so much to me. hopefully it's all coherent, please let me know what y'all are thinking! i know it's a mess for these two right now an the content is angsty and may be triggering in this part of the story. my inbox is always open, love y'all ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
The morning came quickly, no sleep having been found under the cover of night.
You couldn’t have dosed off for more than a few minutes at a time, an hour at the most spent on the cusp of awareness. That in-between state where you were immobile, and your mind tried it’s hardest to let you slip under but just shy of lying about. It was warm, that was the only consolation of the house offered to you for the night. It wasn’t another night sleeping on the frozen ground and hoping the temperature didn’t drop or the windchill robbed you of breath and feeling. Of constantly waking to check if the other sleeping bags were still rising and falling with the even breaths of those inside.
Sighing, you reached out across the empty bed to stretch out your arms from the curled up position you had adopted. But you sat up suddenly when the spot your hand had reached was warm. As if someone had been sitting on the edge of the bed. As you did so, a thick blanket you didn’t recall seeing when pulling the covers back pooled around your waist.
You heard the front door open and close, but no footsteps came further into the house. Not Tommy coming over to begin the day, but his brother departing on his own.
He must’ve returned after you hid away for the night, biding his time until things calmed down enough for him to enter the house undisturbed. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pictured him laying the blanket over you, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as you slept.
Of him setting on the edge of his own bed, consumed by his thoughts and feelings that had to be so overwhelming he had decided to self-destruct and tear everything around him down in the process.
It hurt. It hurt to picture him alone by his own creation, but still feeling the desire to make sure you were comfortable in wake of that.
But it didn’t mean anything, it couldn’t. He had made it his mission to find the words that would hurt you the most and use them against you. To use your own insecurities against you, point them out and use them as a way to rationalize this course of action. Rationalize abandoning you, you and Ellie.
Joel.
Joel was standing beside one of the horses, the stall gate open as he fastened a saddle to the tall creature, tightening the buckle to make sure it was secure. The horse snickered, signaling to him that you were approaching if your footsteps hadn’t reached him quite yet. When he turned to look over his shoulder, you felt your body twitch, fight or flight activated in a visceral way.
You immediately dropped Ellie’s hand. She reached for it even as her own emotions fluttered up and became overwhelming. But you stepped away, nearly knocking into Tommy in the process.
When he looked up from his task completely, his eyes met yours and you turned on your feet and walked away without a second thought. Your name followed, but you didn’t turn back. A chorus of your name sounded all around as you fled the stables on shaky legs, face hot and heart thudding painfully hard in your chest. Head dizzy with the brief encounter of a man who you hadn’t expected to see ever again too much after a fitful night.
A hand closed around your arm and you thrashed against it, whipping around and landing a punch on whoever it was right in the middle of their chest.
“Get off of me!” Terror colored the air, the pure feeling of being trapped. Of being touched by someone who you didn’t give permission to. But the person moved toward you, grunting from the force of the hit you had landed on them, breath being drawn back in to recover. Their arms came around you, cradling you to their chest and hands holding the back of your head as you lost the feeling in your limbs. Body going slack in a last-ditch effort of self-preservation.
The person didn’t expect that, and they lost their footing, knees hitting the ground hard when you jostled along with them. But they tried their best to not let you land on your own numb limbs. You could barely hear anything over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, your own name being called out softly not breaking through. Eye blinking rapidly, you tried to clear your blurring vision, though it wasn’t from tears. You had exhausted all of those last night.
“We gotta stop, darlin’.” Joel’s somber tone finally broke through, his voice thick with tears he wasn’t letting fall. They were a shine in his beautiful eyes when you looked up at him with an unfocused gaze. Vision blurring and sharpening in a rapid succession. His own softening when he realized you were barely there, barely present under the direct attention he was giving to you now. You watched the wrinkles around his brow furrow, deepening as he tried to coax something, anything out of you.
But you were unable to comply, unable to give him anything else. He had taken everything already, burned down what he didn’t like with vicious words that had festered all night. Taken ahold of you and ruined the rest. You had nothing for him anymore.
“I-I can’t keep feeling like my chest is gonna cave in every time I lose sight of you.” He murmured into your hair, leaning down to speak only to you. Distantly, you were aware of the watching eyes of Ellie and Tommy, just inside the threshold of the stables. Both uncertain of what to do, if they should separate you from each other or let this play out. Joel was holding you with such care, such caution and it made them both pause. “My breathing gets stuck, it hurts, darlin’. Feels like knives when you get hurt, spreads all over my body, it numbs me. When I can’t help you, when I can’t see you or reach you, call you back to the present. And that’s not good, we both know that.”
“Joel…” You cautiously treaded, voice sounding foreign and so unlike your own even to your own ears as they steadily cleared. Unsure why he was doing this. Now, of all times. He had already made his case, tore you down as he self-destructed. But he was trying to explain now the reason he had done so in such a catastrophic way. Just like how he was trying to make amends with Ellie, giving her the choice he had so selfishly stolen from her on the same path of destruction just the night before.
“It’s not…it’s not easy. And the further we’ve traveled, the more time we spend out here. It’s just…it’s not something that can last. And for that, I am sorry. I-I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I fired at you yesterday, you have to know that was all projection. You are strong, you are capable, you are so god damn smart, darlin’. But…it’s not…” His gloved hands were strong on the back of your head, on the small of your back despite the way they ached in the cold of the early morning. One last hold on you before he let you go. You knew him, you could read him, and it was too real of an understanding that he was trying to spell out for you now, even through the fog taken over your entire being.
You had known, deep down. That the feelings didn’t mean anything, even if you acknowledged them. They didn’t change anything, didn’t alter the dynamic, only gave it a depth that was dangerous.
“I’m the one who isn’t strong enough, can’t move fast enough. Can’t keep up with everything thrown our way to get here or what’s to come. But I would try until my last breath, darlin’, please believe that. And that’s the problem.”
“Because you do feel something for me.” You didn’t argue, didn’t try to call him out. You simply wanted to understand, the hurt of his words still rooted deep in your mind and heart.
“…yes.” He finally admitted, finally decided to be honest with you about what had begun to develop over the journey here. But it didn’t bring you any joy now, to know that the man felt for you the way you had begun to felt for him. It was damnation, he had been correct in his description. Because you both knew that clinging to that spark was far more dangerous than trying to cultivate it into a fully grown tangible thing. It would prompt the most resilient of things from you both, violent in their tendencies and ugly in the worst ways if picked up upon by others. Leverage to use against one or both of you, something that would bring about death.
“Okay.” Was all you could say, face calm despite the storm raging inside of you. It was breaking, beginning to wane and soon it would disappear. It would leave you empty, a gaping hole in the thick plaster you had slathered and smoothed over yourself in order to make it in the world as it was today. Having already been torn down once by a man with careful words and hands, capable of helping you to create something when nothing seemed to matter.
He had given you hope, but the man standing in front of you now was different. Joel wasn’t feeding into the same notion, instead adding his own layer of solution over the walls he had stumbled through in clumsy motions. He wouldn’t be helping you to dismantle it, too afraid of what it would mean. Too afraid of what it would symbolize in this world. So unlike the man before him, but so similar in the ways that he had nestled himself into the confines of your heart.
Your arms didn’t feel like your own as they reached up and snaked around his neck, your legs didn’t feel like your own as they moved to straddle one of his own and give you purchase to embrace him back. Your lips didn’t feel like your own as they met his in a chaste kiss. A goodbye that wasn’t bittersweet, but venomous. His tears finally fell, dampening the skin of your neck.
Overcoming the disastrous events of yesterday would take time, something of a luxury neither of you had. He was trying to make amends, trying to make you understand. That’s all he could do, was try. And all you could do in return was take the heavy stones he had tied around his limbs and loosen them. Let them fall away and take them on yourself so he wouldn’t have to carry them. You had before and you could do it again.
“I can’t go with you.” You whispered, lips brushing against his as the words sprouted from you. The truth too painful to admit at full volume, too painful to say at all. But you had to. You had to tell him you understood it was the right thing, that he understood it was the right thing. Distance. Perhaps long-lasting separation that turned into only once knowing each other.
“I know.”
He helped you to stand back up, putting distance between you both as he walked back into the stables. Tommy trailed after him, both men giving you a moment with a confused and concerned Ellie. She was too young to understand that despite the apology, the bridge had been burned and it was only one of you who would take her to where she needed to go.
You turned to her, not wanting to do this, not wanting her to see how hurt you were but knowing that whatever she did glimpse, it was absolutely not aimed at her. “I’m not mad at you, Ellie. I just…I’m not good enough to get you where you need to go if he’s there. And he’s not good enough to do it if I’m there. He made it clear as crystal he has one care he’s allowing himself in the world and it’s you.”
“You’re being selfish! I know he’s an ass. He yelled at me too, but look! I’m trying, I’m giving him a second chance. Why can’t you?” Her words were sharp, cutting into you like the blade you wielded and you took each one without a grimace.
"Ellie, that man is your future. He will protect you until his last breath. But we can’t all travel together again.” Your eyes moved from her deep frown and her hands gripped tight on the second bag that dangled by her legs to the figure of Joel leading a singular horse out of the stables. “I have so much care and love for you, but it’s not a good fit. All three of us, it was always supposed to be him, Ellie.
I’m not able to protect you, I’ve been out of it most of our trip, unable to do anything without his help. He’s the one who can get you there, he’s the one who is capable. I’m so sorry for making you feel like you could count on me, I’m not the one to place your bets on. He is.”
"So what, it all meant nothing? The whole fucking journey here didn't mean anything to you?"
"Ellie, please listen to me and hear me, it meant everything to me. but it's past and there are some things I have to take care of."
“You’re just gonna leave me? Like he tried to, like he regrets trying to do. But you’re actually gonna fucking do it, huh? You’re a real piece of work. So much for sticking with me. Fucking liar.” She stalked off, refusing to hear anything else you had to say. “Go, get the fuck away from me! I never want to see you again!”
Joel’s hand curling around her shoulder as she crossed the threshold of the stables made them the perfect wounded pair and you turned your back on them as they began to walk away, hoping that this was all for the best. That you were making the right move.
You were still at the stables when Tommy returned, his pack still over his shoulders but his rifle was missing. He was silent as he entered the stall you were readying a horse in. It was a beautiful animal, with white and brown patches all over. You figured the coloring would help you to blend into the landscape easily, having a long journey ahead of you.
“Where will you go?” Tone so unlike his brother, though the twang of a Texan accent curled around his words all the same.
“Home.” You grunted as you tightened a bag to hang from the saddle, the pack holding a small collection of camp kitchen supplies. Maria had tried to give you as much to work with as possible, not wanting you to starve or be without a source of heat should more storms greet you outside the gates.
“And where is that?”
“California. Should’ve gone back a long time ago, but…things never worked out.” You could sense the curiosity in him, so unlike his brother who hid his emotions. He had been nothing but kind to you, even if you hadn’t directly interacted with him. But if he was related to Joel, he was a good man. Indulging him, you found yourself opening up to him with more directness than you had with anyone before. Wanting a lifeline here in Jackson should you find your way back here. “Tennessee was home when the Outbreak happened, stuck around there for a while….then found myself in Boston. I remember catching glimpses of you with Joel, every so often. And then suddenly you disappeared. Wasn’t ever sure what happened, but I figured a loss is a loss.”
“Yesterday was such a hectic day. With falling on your arm and everything…will you be okay?” He followed you out of the stall, out of the stables, the horse letting you lead it leisurely along. Two shadows waiting close by, a horse already saddled and ready beside them.
“I hope so.” You offered him a soft smile, grateful for his concern.
“Will you be okay?” His inflection changed, eyes looking between both of your own as he moved closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. You sighed, trying to shake the thoughts of what happened today from your mind, knowing they would be revisited tonight when you try to rest.
“I’ve done pretty good so far, think I can manage to get over your big brother.” You knocked his shoulder with your own. His arms suddenly came around you in a hug, his chin hooking over one of them and nearly knocking your hat from atop your head. But you didn’t flinch, too worn out to fight against comfort if someone wanted to offer it to you. With warmth blossoming in your chest, you let your head lean into his own and closed your eyes.
“Thank you.” His low voice was strong, emotions strong as you hesitantly returned the sudden embrace. “Thank you for helping get him here.”
“Thank you for being alive,” You whispered back, the worry of how this all could’ve turned out weighing heavily on you even in of luck and chance. Of the sheer determination Tommy must’ve exhibited to not only leave with the Fireflies all those years ago, but to actually leave the organization and not find himself on a hit list. That he found refuge here in Jackson, a life here in Jackson, it was all so overwhelmingly wonderful. For a man who had been down so many wrong paths to find a good one to travel on after so long. That it allowed him to not only survive but live, given him the opportunity to reconnect with his brother.
Given him the chance to make something out of the wreckage of this world that would last.
“You have a home here.” He leaned back, arms still around you as he looked down at you, trying to find the right words for a goodbye that wouldn’t add weight to the events since arriving. “Maria likes you, sees you. I like ya just based on the fact that you’re not afraid to holler back if someone comes at ya. Can throw a hell of a right hook too. We’ll be here for you, whenever you decide to return.”
You nodded once, allowing him to help you mount the horse and followed that morning’s patrol through the town and toward the gate.
The railroad was easiest, so you stuck close to it when you could. The open land setting your nerves on high alert, there was no coverage out here on the plains. But you were hoping that the advantage of having a horse now would allow you a good head start if someone tried you, the rifle on your shoulder too. Maria did well, giving you everything you might need. More help than you could have ever hoped for, including the map you had found in the pocket of your new coat, detailing the route Joel and Ellie would be taking.
You had stood still for a long while, beside the horse you had let loose to get a drink from a small creek. The map tight in your gloved hand as you stared out toward the expanse of Colorado. The state line between Wyoming and Idaho close by, only a few minutes travel. Torn between moving in the opposite direction of them, worried for them and the possible threats that awaited them. But they were strong, stronger without you. They would be okay, you had to hope they would be okay. Tucking the map back into your pocket, you clicked your tongue to get the horse to come back to you.
Mounting it easily, you made your way west and crossed the state line.
Night fell and with it you hunkered down in the mild protection of the woods. The horse laying down and allowing you to lean up against their warm body, one blanket thrown over his neck to help stave off some of the cold. You had your sleeping bag curled over your shoulders, unzipped to make a small shield against the biting chill, but even with all the supplies and advice and kind words Maria had offered you, you were still utterly and completely alone. The fire crackling in front of you did nothing to warm the cold that had taken root in your chest, not born of the weather. It would only defrost with the snickering laughter of a sarcastic teenager, in the rumbling chuckle of a stoic man, in the lightness they both inspired in you despite the endless circumstances that decided to rain down upon you all.
Your heart ached for the gruff grunts Joel would make when settling down for the night, either in front of the fire for an imitation of a family dinner or for the attempt at getting some sleep for the evening. But it was a thing of the past, something you wouldn’t hear again. Alone. Completely and wholly alone. A sentence of your own making, a reality brought on by your foolish naivety that you were now subject to. Journey now shrouded in the selfish need to seek answers to questions that had plagued you for far too long. No longer intertwined with that of a brooding older man who had space in his heart enough for a girl who hid her pain behind terrible jokes. No longer a part of that dynamic, unsure if you ever were supposed to even be a part of it in the first place but having forced yourself into the fold when faced with returning behind the walls of the quarantine zone.
Spit back out in such a damning way.
Sighing, you stretched a boot out to stamp the small fire out. Shrugging tighter against the horse behind you, prompting them to turn their head and snuff against your hat in a teasing way. He was a good animal, easy to direct, willing to follow, gentle. But still, you were alone. Surrounded only by the bare trees of the wilderness you had to cross.
It was the fifth day after departing from Jackson when the universe decided you were ready for it to pick back up the punches. Tracking your progress on the map as you tried to calculate how many hours or steps it would take to trek through the dense woods that would get you through the state of Idaho and into the desert landscape of Nevada. It had been a discussion, between you and Maria, which route would be the most logical.
Either to gear up impossibly so in order to endure the remaining time of winter through the pacific northwest and make your way south through the long state of California to your hometown. Or to put up with the snow and ice for the duration of traveling through a corner of one state before finding relative refuge in the desert landscape that made up most of the south west part of the country. It would mean more exposure through the desert, but it would also mean lesser chances of running into people or Infected. More reliance on supplies and rationing.
After admitting that you weren’t very fond of the cold, of winter in general, maps of different states had been brought out from where they were collected in the council’s meeting place. She had allowed you to look them over, wanting to give you the best chance she could at accomplishing what you were set out to do. To help you, to help you find what you needed to in order to move on and begin to heal on your own terms. A journey she did not envy, but one she would do whatever she could to give you the best chance of returning to Jackson someday.
She liked you, came her admittance over a cup of coffee. You had sought her out in the early morning before Tommy had awoken to ready himself for the task his brother had desperately asked him to take over. Maria had been awake, her kitchen light visible from the house you were in across the street. Not having the courage to bother her otherwise in the wake of being torn down so completely by someone who you thought had accepted you. Hesitant to reach out and force a connection with the woman who had a literal commune’s worth of worries on her shoulder, paired with the ups and downs of pregnancy in a time where every aspect of it was washed in uncertainty.
But she saw you. Most likely told of the disastrous confrontation that had happened by her husband. Perhaps seeing you more then than she had previously.
You had initially planned to take Ellie to where she needed to go, staying with her for however long it would require hearing the Fireflies out. To apply logic and statistics to their case of proposed action with Ellie now in their hands. With her blood and tissue at their relative disposal in order to run tests, to assuage that she truly was immune in tests and medical procedures that would warrant a solid base to work off of. You weren’t being honest though, with either Joel or Ellie. You didn’t think it was possible. You didn’t think the creation of something so expansive that it would eradicate the very real and adaptive being of cordyceps would be easy, if at all possible. In this lifetime or the next.
The world had shifted. And there was no way to turn back the hand of time on something so complete and expansive. The world had decided what the new order was, the best way to endure it was to adapt. Alter ways of thinking to align with it, accept it. Hell, cordyceps had found a way to adapt in a relatively short twenty years. Evolution almost fast tracking in order to preserve itself for a longer duration. Another thing to consider when thinking about overcoming it. Adaptability meant survival, and if it was fast acting then surely it would find a way to take on elements of a vaccine or cure and circumvent the attempt.
The issue didn’t lie solely in the science and medical proficiency of the staff, but in the resources that it would take to even jumpstart such research. Ellie was only one person, so young and developed into her own mindset, she would’ve listened to them. Turned to you for your opinion, your guidance.
And you would’ve been honest with her then. In the face of whatever plan the Fireflies had concocted up while playing the waiting game. Playing the hoping game. That she would have to most likely remain at their facilities, if they even had any up and operating on the level they would require for such an egotistical task of altering the shift the world had deemed to make. That she would have to give herself over wholly to them, to their ministrations. That she could weaken her immune system in the process, fall victim to some other illness or virus in the efforts to find one for the outbreak. That it would be a shadow of a life, with no guarantee that it would make a difference, let alone a universal one.
That you believed it was hopeless.
And then you would’ve told her of your hometown, beginning the journey in that direction with the determination to show her the other coastline. To help her find another meaning for her life to have worth. Even if it was simply being alive. It meant so much these days, to simply be alive.
Though your thoughts were zoned out on an endless play of ‘what if’ ‘then what’ that didn’t matter anymore, you were on alert as you continued on. The sun trying to break through the cloud coverage in the last dredges of the day.
Just as your foot came down in another, countless step you swooped down to cloak yourself behind the fallen trunk of a pine tree. Ears straining and chest hurting with the effort to quiet your breathing, you could hear the distant sound of branches crunching, people walking among the wooded area just like you were. One voice sounded feminine, the other masculine. It was an easy conversation between them, a simple request to gather kindling for a fire since night would fall within the hour.
They weren’t speaking English, as least not completely, the voices sounding in a mixture of it and Spanish. Familiar but yet so wedged into the crevices of your mind after years of not using your household language. Such a tantalizing siren song that would allow for easier connection with the people you otherwise knew nothing about. Closing your eyes, you felt more than the pull of a weak desire to announce yourself, take a risk of introducing yourself in much the same way.
As soon as their voices seemed to move away, you pushed yourself up from where you were hidden and turned the other way. Not wanting to be around people after the disastrous attempt of connecting with someone so fresh and painful, a weight that you’re not sure would ever lift from your mind and heart. Resigned to be a singular soul wandering around the desolate landscape of what was once the world.
You were about to turn away when you heard a shuffle far too close for comfort. Followed by the hesitant call of something you hadn’t heard in over two decades. Your name. Your full name.
Head jerking around, rifle aimed at the ready; you gazed into a pair of eyes so similar to your own.
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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics
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#dev writes#fic: return the favor#tlou#tlou fic#tlou fanfic#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller series#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#ellie williams#platonic ellie williams#tommy miller#maria miller#jackson era#season one events#canon compliant#angst#joel miller smut#smut#hurt and comfort#ao3#ao3 link#ao3 fic#archive of our own
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✨fav fics published in 2023 ✨
173 fics (+ 15 podfics) (in English) were published in the coldflash tag in 2023! Bless everybody who continues to write fic for a show that has now ended!! Here is a semi complete list of all my faves from this year in lieu of a Spotify wrapped fics edition!!!
heading off the rails by Sandrine shaw
-let Barry be drunk (for a little bit) that's what I always say! he's in his 20s he should be at the club! and that's where he is here! incredible.
Into the Speed Force by captainicecube
-ahhh I just love fics where the speed force is a character and is also Super Creepy Eldritch Horror about it
detox just to retox (i’d promise you anything) by trespresh
-coming back to this series after years since the previous instalment made me go relisten to disloyal order of water buffaloes and single handedly restarted my fob obsession so thanks for that
Seek Comfort, Find Faith by Annawry
-love when fics just have the characters be cursed by magic. it's already a superhero show set in a universe with canon magic users it's not even a reach. also love when their solution is to fuck about it.
to give hope by Aerica_Menai
-Star Trek mention gives me so much serotonin it’s not even funny + honorary mention to ‘Just Another Tuesday Amongst the Stars’ for also being about Star Trek
small favours in high doses by QLaLa
-pov outsider and teacher!barry you are everything to me. the DTR bit had me in stitches. they're both SO goddamn embarrassing my god.
There’s blood on your teeth (let me get that for you) by SoftBoyDepot
-the tag being “if you’re a fan of Leonard Snart begging this is the fic for you!” and boy did it deliver
I Won’t Ever be Too Far Away to Feel You by RedRidingStiles
-this is the only fic where I would agree with len being a cop because it’s so good. the second hand embarrassment of the initial call from Barry makes my chest hurt but hey, that just tells you how visceral the experience of reading can be lmao
So Long, Scarlet Speedster by HowToKillAVampire
-time! travel! You are everything to me! Time travellers wife-esque situations where they meeting out of sync is catnip to me I’m gobbling this fic right up
The Fair Price of a Plate of Dinner by RetroactiveCon
-hehe love fics where both Barry and len are being little shits and causing problems for Joe. Me 🤝 Len “has no interest in Christmas, but do just about anything to cause problems on purpose”
slipstream by wednesday
- competent! Barry is everything to me. Misunderstanding is delicious to me. Len not knowing how to deal with random acts of kindness is Kryptonite to me. You see how this fic is exactly up my alley
#coldflash#it is currently 3:53am on the 31st so I’m guessing there won’t be anymore fics published this year lol#there are some fics that im subscribed to and haven’t read yet if they’re unfinished but this is a semi complete account of the year <3#trying to keep it to just one fic per author for the sake of bloat#reread my way through the entire coldflash tag on ao3 again this year (sorted by kudos)#did you know there were fics with zero kudos? they were written in Japanese so I guess that explains it#so strange to read fic in Japanese given that I only really use it to speak to my mother but I did read it and give them a little heart#<3<3<3 to everyone you have my whole heart#k.txt#fic recs
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Writing comments for fanfic
tl;dr -- Write one thing you liked about the fic (a phrase or moment) and how you reacted or made you feel! Also, keep it fun! Make no demands of fic authors who write out of love and Owe Us Nothing.
It took me a while to figure out how to write comments. I went through an evolution. There's lots of stuff on how to write stories, probably even giving crit and feedback, but commenting? Not nearly as much. So here's my not so short ramble on writing comments for fic. Includes my Ways of commenting and Tenets of commenting.
Examples here will be T-rated (by AO3 standards) and most are taken from or newly written with specific fics in mind. They are, ahem, almost all Genshin Impact.
Commenting is, I believe, a personal thing. I've been told I have a bit of an enthusiastic presence, so what feels true to you may vary. I also like to write words (can you tell?). And smash keyboards.
Leaving comments is, in fact, effort! But it's also a skill that can be learned and honed. And honestly, I think my fic experience is improved by it. I don't always leave a comment. But, I don't know... that random internet person authored a Whole Thing. For Free (likely). And I just get to read it?? Yeah, I'm going to leave a little appreciation. Just a little snack in return for this fulfilling meal you have fed me.
I also find writing a comment is also a way for me to just bask in a fic a little bit longer, linger in that feeling of oh, wow, this was so good, and I don't want to leave yet. (And then sometimes there's a response, and then I get a bonus dose of nostalgia!)
Ways of commenting
These are roughly ordered by amount of effort required. I would say the comments I leave are a mash up of these, really. There aren't actual hard lines between them.
1. An extra kudos.
Kudos are nice. Knowing the kudos button isn't enough is one layer deeper! Comments like
"Thanks for writing!" "<3" "i mash kudos button but no more kudos come out what's wronnnnggg????" "yay an update!" "this is so good"
Level of effort: slightly more than a kudos.
Honestly, copy-pasteable. Personally, I would always write these out. Somehow, to me, as a commenter, feels more real if I tippy tappy the letters myself even if Author can't tell. It's a nice way to let an author know you're coming back chapter after chapter when we can only kudos once on a fic. I like to leave a little something more, but I still often start or end with this.
2. Fic reaction.
Sometimes a fic just leaves me a certain way. Invoked a particular mood or visceral reaction. So, I let the author know!
"Awww, my heart is warm!" "Jaw on ground. WTF!" "Literal chills." "My eyes are wet. How did that happen?" "This fic is pure comfort." "AHHHHHHHHHHH!" "Heart on floor, smashed." "WHOLESOME!" "This has left me completely feral and ready to punch something."
Level of effort: you need some emotional intelligence or other awareness of you reactions.
As a starting point, was the fic -- wholesome, sweet, chaotic (in a good way), funny, heartwrenching, sad, delightful, shocking, calm, peaceful, I just want a hug now, terrifying, creepy, comedic?
How do you then turn this into a comment? "This was so ___!!"
Honestly, my crutch here is to just keyboard smash. What does it mean? Your guess as good as mine. I'm speechless, and I cannot words properly, but please participate in these Feels I'm having.
3. One detail I like. (My default comment style)
This one covers a lot of scope. If I read to the end of the fic, there's probably something I liked. Maybe
a turn of phrase. "Diluc drinking grape juice like a man chained to an interrogation table. sfjfskkdz" "Bedsheets twisted up like cooked spinach is SO accurate." "Itto-to is such a cute mashup name!" "We have years ahead of us. That was just one day in the past. The feeeeeelllssss" ":) as punctuation" "Barbatos and Nobles as a bookstore. Sdjjsfjdw I love it"
a particular character moment, action, interaction, or dialogue. quote or paraphrase it! "Diluc kicking Childe into the water was hilarious." "Childe is such an adrenaline junkie. I can't believe he would lean out the window while he was driving." "I'm so proud of Zhongli for actually admitting his feelings!"
some specific moment you emotionally reacted to. I've only recently trained myself out of stoic facing through fic. I mean, it's a useful skill, don't get me wrong (especially in public), but it's less useful when it's just me by myself. I now laugh at 3am reading fic, and my life is brighter for it. Comedy fic writers, you are my fave. "Can't get over when Diluc walks in on Kaeya and Childe. AHHHHH!" "Qiqi drying Childe's hair was so sweet!"
Level of effort: you have to actually remember something you liked or reacted to.
The number of movies I watch and number of times someone asks how's my week, and I just stare blankly because I know it was good but don't know anything else? High. So yeah, this isn't trivial.
I've gotten to the point where usually while reading I notice a moment of "wow I love this!" I don't go looking for them (because I want to stay in fic headspace not comment material hunting headspace), and I don't spend much effort trying to remember. If I forget, that's fine. Not like I'm not writing a book review for a grade or anything.
Just, what's a moment you just got to call out? (And bonus, what's your reaction?) Authors out there seem to like to make us feel things. Show them we're just dangling from their puppet strings!
I usually leave comments like this. Just popcorn style, as many things as I remember, whatever comes up as I recall it. I'm aware that sometimes I end up basically quoting a fic back to its author completely out of order interspersed with commentary or keyboard smashes. I'm occasionally embarrassed by how much I'm smashing into their comments, but the reception seems overall positive.
4. Between the lines and spin off thoughts.
Sometimes fic make me think. I mean, canon makes me think, and then people go and make fanworks off of that, so of course I'm bound to run into fic that makes me think. Sometimes the things I notice or think about aren't directly in the text, but implied or spin out thoughts. An interpretation, a mini analysis, or a reflection. Like,
a new thought or take on a character. "Aro-ace Venti! I like this take!" "Please don't break Klee. She's just trying her best to hold all the adults together. Oh no. You've already broken Klee. T_T" "I bet Jean is the only person who could have kicked Diluc's ass, and he really needed it." "Kaeya what are you doooinggg?? Why is he like this???" (An extra note, it's cool to disagree with a character, but not the author. Character did that makes you want to scream? Go for it. Author wrote the character in a way you disagree with? Don't comment. Leave the fic if it bothers you that much.)
noticing foreshadowing or a detail that isn't fully explained / only alluded to. "Is that Scara working at Scarabucks???" "Wait, something about what Venti said makes me think this isn't just a modern day AU ..." "Did that count as a geo construct for the purposes of the contract?"
some sentence or moment somewhere that just hits you in the brain. This one I don't actually know if author's like. On the one hand, I can imagine it being flattering. On the other, maybe it's too personal? I'll usually center these on the characters, kind of like character analysis. "Diluc sharing his anxiety with Kaeya, and that being what made Kaeya look at his own anxiety... really hits. Like, I don't even think Diluc could have said something sooner without Kaeya running, which says so much about how Diluc loves Kaeya. And the fact Kaeya can see this as a mirror of what he's doing and learns something from it. Just. Oof. Wow." "The conversation between Zhongli and Childe is just so real. Like Zhongli is trying so hard but his ass just can't understand Childe just wants him to tell them things and his not telling things is Not Helping even though he just wants to protect the boy!"
Level of effort: some amount of analytical thinking, reflection, or willingness to share when you get sucker punched by words.
This one I absolutely never go looking for, so I don't leave many such comments. When it does come up, it usually smacks me in the face, and I let it (roll with the hit and into the comments). On occasion I am wailing in the comment box when the revelation (like having broken Klee) just dawns on me. Am I Feelings Processing in comment boxes? Uuuhhhhhh, no comment. (Don't mind the lack of delivery on the pun.)
I'd like to think authors appreciate when we reflect back to them we get their interpretation, but I can also imagine it might be a little too much for authors if we get too personal. In which case, sorry. Your work is great! Please take it as my intention to flatter you since you've touched my heart or brain or soul with your words.
5. Craft appreciation.
This one, *head scratches* yeah, I don't often end up here. But sometimes it's not one moment, but something about all the moments, something underlying, or something in the way it was all put together. If I do end up here and write a general statement, I like to point to specific bits that made me think that (which is where I lean back on One Detail I Like). Actually, yeah, usually I use this as flavor to One Detail I Like, but I think it's sufficiently different to pull out separately. It's a writerly meta layer. What falls here?
dialogue. "Your dialogue is so good. I can hear it in in the VA's voice." "I love the contrast between how Zhongli talks and Childe talks."
imagery. "Can't get over the imagery of Childe releasing dandelion scenes. Such a kid!" "Childe sleeping with Tranquil Statlight is just so peaceful."
characterization. "The little nuggets you give characters like Rosaria doing community service at the church for Crimes just gives me life." "I love the way you write Childe. He's so aggressive!"
setting, world building (more for AUs but wow there are some authors good at expanding on canon lore). "Your world building is so cool. Like the abyssal graffiti on the walls?? HNNG!"
writing style. "Your style is very dreamy. <3" "This is genuinely so heartwarming, and yet at the same time what is this underlying feeling of something is wrong????" "I feel like people appreciate the art of comedic one liners but you've got angst one liners. AND THEY SLAY."
pacing, timing. "This fic reads like a high speed express train. It just never stops or slows down!!" "What is this cRaFT! Like. Para 1, comedic. Para 2, thoughtful. Para 3, WHY DO MY HEARTSTRINGS HURT."
use of language. "Using he for POV character and they for the other is LINGUISTICALLY MIND BLOWING." (Please, I want this to catch on more. I do absolutely respect people's pronouns. These fictional characters (and people who have pronoun flexibility)? She and they instead of she and she?? THE CLARITY WE COULD HAVE??!? I'm incredibly greedy for it.)
premise. "Pierro Dad gives me so much life." "The Bachelor but it's Diluc?? Let's go!!"
plot twist, or cliff hanger. "The reveal!!! *screaming*" "I can't believe you would do me like this." (No, I can't in good conscience leave a specific example and give a fic away. Yes, I am thinking of specific fics still.)
Level of effort: be able to map details you like to writer's craft.
Let's not pretend we're here to do crit. Even if we're using writerly words, we are not here to do crit. Well, I am not because I don't believe the comments box is the right time or place for it, but I am happy to lay on the praise and point out the things that worked for me.
Usually, I think it's harder to look across a fic and be like, yeah, the dialogue hit, or this writing style or pacing really does it for me. It's more nebulous. And sometimes it kicks you out of fic reading headspace and into a writerly meta land to notice, so I don't, and I just let the fic wash over me. And if something here strikes me, I will offer my praises. Again, I think it helps to think of this more as an additional kind of One Detail I Like.
Tenets of commenting (and a little of reading)
Okay, so those were some do's, but I also have don't's. These are my boundaries that I keep. Maybe yours are different. I suspect most of these stem from the place, Author did this for free and Owes Me Nothing, so that's the one real tenet. I keep these in mind so that I can keep fic a nice, fun, safe place for me (and hopefully the authors too).
1. I will never ask for updates. I never expect a next chapter.
I've seen enough content creators stressed out and burnt out about putting something out over and over again. I feel for them. That sucks. They probably just started doing it for fun, and now ... The demand and expectation they continue to perform for free? Yeah, it's not going to come from me.
Once upon a time, because of this and a desire to have complete stories, I wouldn't read incomplete fics. I now am The Biggest Fan of incomplete fics. Yes, hang me off the side of a cliff. I will scream at you. And if you don't haul me back up? Well, fine. I'll live. Some other author's got my back. Probably. There's still so much to love between world building, characterization, good moments, jokes -- and you sometimes get the experience of seeing familiar faces screaming at the fic with you update after update. It's precious. It's fleeting. I could go on, but maybe a different day. Back to commenting!
Flip side, as an author, I will say the desire for more is, in one case, why I plan to continue a fic from years ago. I was very firm at the time I would not be extending the one shot, but I guess time changes things, and the fact people were like, I would read more story contributes to that.
So this one is very much a personal tenet. There's some line between I love this so much I want it to continue, and expecting there to be more. Where is it? I don't know. So I just stay away. Surely Author will get I want more if I just say how much I love everything and have commented on their latest chapter. Rather than leave snacks that taste like burn out to some authors, I will focus on other flavors of comments!
2. I will not say what I dislike.
Not my ship? I probably won't read. Not my preferred ship dynamic? Tropes I don't like? Characterization not hitting it for me? Paragraph formatting not doing it for me? I just x out of there, find something I do like. People be writing things for free! Let them have their fun!
If I did read it, snd I stayed, something else must have grabbed my attention. I'll focus on that. Writing style not quite doing it for me but I love the details added to the world? "Wow, the world you flesh out is so complex." No mention about how much of a drag it is to read, because hey, I still read it, and I had reason to not put it down!
3. I will not give corrections.
Authors (and maybe a beta) have put in tremendous effort and time, and to be like, "you missed a typo" or "actually, the canon lore says X" often detracts from the beauty of the shared fic experience. I interpret random grammar and misspeaks and typos in daily conversation and texts all the time. Surely I know enough to employ this skill. And if I figured it out, other readers probably will figure it out too. If I can't, I usually assume the author was too big brain for me and skip merrily along to the next sentence. (And if it's too much for me to handle, I click out.)
Yeah I get it! I get the urge to want to be helpful and contribute to other people's experience! I know that feel! Because, well, I learned this one from experience. I tried once. Watched an author wilt a little when what I wanted was to be helpful. Yeeeaaah, not doing that again.
So, I suspect this often comes off as a little entitled that just by that bit of you say something and kinda underlyingly expect the author to do something about it, and again, Author Owes Me Nothing! Even if the author is asking for a beta, I'd reach out first and make sure they are now in a headspace to be expecting beta thoughts from me.
Wrapping it up
I love fic, the world is rich with it, and I am full of love for authors and their craft. It fills my heart with joy to know I can return a little smile to someone who has let me hop on their ride for free.
It does take effort. Writing comments, turns out, is writing. Writing is a skill, therefore writing comments is a skill. And writing takes practice to improve, so, guess what, writing comments takes practice to improve. Who would've thunk. (Not me, I assure you.)
I've wanted to write this for me for a while, capture what I've learned because I noticed my ability to write comments change over time. Then recently, I was rec'd a fic and told to definitely leave a comment because the author deserves it and I write good comments. Dispatched because I write good comments! Now my commenter feathers are fluffed up, and so I have actually written this. But I definitely didn't start out the comment writer I am today, so I wanted to share that, surprisingly there is a progression path! (Maybe this is only surprising to me.)
I do find commenting adds to my fic reading experience. And I love reading other people's comments. Sometimes other people notice things I didn't or have very cool interpretations, and that is an extra wow right there. (And look at all these other people who like the thing I like!)
And if I leave a comment, sometimes I get a reply! Author noticed my little comment! Extra dose of happy for everyone!
And sometimes, sometimes, (and again I would never expect it, but it is a gift much like fic itself is) an author will write back full of their notes and what they were thinking about writing those moments, and I treasure that so, so much. It's both a delight because of the usual Author saw my effort commenting and I get an extra behind the scenes! The craft behind the craft! (Now how do authors leave good replies? That is still a mystery to me.)
Sometimes I write a lot and then it goes into a black hole, and that's sad. Hmm. I'm pretty sure this is what authors feel when we don't leave comments. Hmm. Guess it's time to write more comments! (Sometimes, like fic updates, replies show up months later, and that's honestly <3)
So, let's go leave some comments and show those authors love and tell them how much they delighted us! Or ... how they smashed our hearts into the ground with angst/no comfort because sometimes that's just what one wants to read.
#fanfiction#ao3#fic commenting#fandom#fandom meta#a few too many genshin references#shavynel scribbles
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Part 2: They Thought He was the Villain
CONTINUATION :)
Note- Sorry the partner isn't in this one but there is a good amount of mentioned torture, non con manhandling, nonsexual nudity etc... BUT she will return!
Part 1
---
When they took the hood off of him he was in a concrete room. He kept his eyes on his knees on the floor, not daring to bring them any higher. At least the tears had stopped, dried salt on his cheeks now.
“Villain, you stayed hidden for quite some time. I have to say I’m impressed. I didn’t know you were capable of that.”
The boots in front of him were familiar. He knew these boots. He would never forget them. It was foolish of him to think that he could leave them in the past.
A hand reached down and took his chin to lift it. He closed his eyes, clenching them shut.
“Look at me Villain, open your eyes.”
The fingers gripped tighter, verging on painful… a warning.
“Open them.”
So he did. In front of him, better illuminated, was the personification of his nightmares, the Captain.
“You know…. I couldn’t have shocked you back there. But it was good to know you still respond to the threat. Perhaps our training was more effective than I thought.”
He couldn’t have… But the words- the feeling, so visceral. It hadn’t crossed his mind to not obey, nothing had in fact. Just pure fear. And now shame. Coiling deep in him, so pathetic.
And now the collar was back too, the Captain linked a finger through it, Villain winced at the touch, all to aware of how easy it was to set off.
“You’re quieter now. I like that. I wonder if that pretty girl liked that. Does she know what you did? Or more to the point, what I did to you?”
He shook his head minutely, pathetic tears threatening again.
“Should have known that would you ruin more lives while you were out, more than your own… Good thing we’ve got you back home, huh?”
He blinked back the tears, trying not to make a sound but not lifting his hands to wipe them away. Not that he could.
“I asked you a question, what do you say?”
“Yes, sir-“ Villain whispered back with a quivering voice.
The grip tightened again. He choked on his congestion trying to speak, “I- am happy to be home -sir.” Tears wouldn’t stop falling.
He sighed and paced the room a few steps away from him, “…But you’re going to have to be punished for what you did- all the time and resources wasted on bringing you back. You know that right? How wasteful you’ve been?”
He closed his eyes again, tears spilling out silently as he nodded.
“Mhm." Then he paused for a few beats, perhaps savoring the moment, "If you don’t fight it, it may be easier, it’s up to you.”
It wouldn’t be easier, he knew that.
“Bring him over to intake. We will begin in the morning once he’s processed.”
Rough hands grabbed him, pulling him up off his knees and dragging him forward. He trained his eyes back downwards, too familiar with what would come next.
___
First they removed the chains. Then his clothes- just a pair of boxers and thin pajama pants anyway. Then he was chained to the shower room wall for the power washing.
…
He wish he didn’t scream.
—-
After:
The institutional lice powder,
Shaving his head- the long inches of freedom sheared away to the floor,
Dental and cavity checks,
... Then the first dose.
—-
“Villian, you know how this goes. Take it.”
The guard was impatient, irritated when Villain didn’t open his mouth for the tablets to be poured in.
But Villain couldn’t open his mouth. It wasn’t a choice so much as a sheer inability to. He wasn’t crying anymore, he was too dehydrated for that. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t… willingly take it again.
“They said he was already trained.”
A radio screech filled the room, “Medication reinforcement for Prisoner 3620.”
There was no retreating, he was already surrounded.
The steel door buzzed and clicked.
—-
Everything else went quickly after that. He fought, or at least he tried.
They beat him until he was wheezing on the floor and then pried open his mouth, poured the pills in, and closed it for him, holding his nose closed and massaging his throat to force him to swallow.
He wasn’t given clothing yet, that was to be earned.
—-
Then he was alone.
Not that it mattered. He was too disoriented to even know that. But he knew there was a grief.
He was home again.
—-
“Villain, I am surprised you refused your medication yesterday, I thought you liked it, a pathetic thing like you, the sedation must be a relief.”
His left cheek was still on the concrete floor, eyes vaguely unfocused staring ahead at the boots again.
“But then again, I knew a little obedience training would be in order, I work miracles but you did weasel out after all...
Don’t worry though, you’ll never want to do that again.”
He blinked.
A boot caught him in the stomach.
“Are you listening, Prisoner 3620? I am going to make you good again, better than before and I am going to enjoy it… You might not though.” There was a familiar smile. A familiar pleased voice.
“Get him up.”
Two guards shifted him to sitting against the wall of his cell. Again, the hand under his chin, so he made eye contact. Like he was trained.
The man kept speaking but the words warped and muddled in the air, the medication was taking him under again.
Then the beating began. Again.
Then he was wet, soaking and cold. The beating continued. There was blood in the water.
The voices continued. He tried to drag himself away at one point. Then the shocks started. He stopped trying to get away. He thought he remembered how this went. Someone laughed. Then black.
…
Then there were the boots again, he didn’t know how he got there, he couldn’t quite focus.
Shock- He understood this. They wanted him to pay attention.
He was being dragged somewhere. He wouldn’t get into the chair, more shocks. Why did he have to be bad. He didn’t like being bad.
He woke up in a chair, strapped in. How had he gotten there?
There were men in white coats. Another injection.
Another?
“My shifts ending in 20, up for a drink after?”
“Sure, Marie’s at her sisters tonight with the kids.”
“Poor bastard, we’re going to have to hose off the chair after.”
A laugh.
“Get Simmons to do it.”
He was on the ground. Boots.
He was wet. Soaked through.
Blood or water?
“Villian, one last time, will you do as the captain says or would you like more shocks?”
What did the captain say?
He was drowning, he couldn’t breath.
He was on the ground.
Why didn’t he have any clothes on?
Where was F-?
“If he won’t eat, force feed, he doesn’t get out that easy.”
Ground. Something sharp.
Boots.
Electricity.
Water.
Boots.
Crying.
And crying.
“Pathetic piece of shit. How’d he ever manage to get out in the first place?”
“Beats me, but when it happened, the Captain went ballistic, something in him snapped. Obsessed with the bastard… accidentally killed a different prisoner right after.”
“You think he’ll kill this one?”
“No, but the poor bastard would be lucky if he did.”
Shock. Puddle of water.
Someone was stroking his head. Someone was combing his wet blood soaked hair with their fingers.
“That’s it... attaboy, you’re learning again.”
He groaned a small pitiful noise.
“You can be good, you’re showing me that right now. Mhm… Good boy.”
His head wasn’t on the concrete and there were no boots.
His head was on khaki. A leg.
“Ah-ah. Don’t move.”
A hand gripped his hair. It hurt. A warning.
He thought it had been buzzed? When was that?
He stopped. And his breathing stopped too. But the bone deep pain in every inch of his body persisted.
“I bet you wish you were dead right now.” The voice mused playfully.
Did he? It made sense, maybe he did.
The hand went back to stroking, “Too bad you’re mine. And you’re going to stay here forever... Never allowed to die. Never allowed to leave.”
He thinks he remembers this. Something like this before.
He’s home. Isn’t he?
---
TAG LIST:
@idkawhumpatall @mary1raven @whoopsitswhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whump-whump-whump-it-up @endless-whump @whumpitywhumpwhump @whump-world @octopus-reactivated @extemporary-whump @l-antre-des-merveilles @writing-i-like-dump @lovelywhump @hurting-fictional-people @castlehillwhump @bloodinthemud @whatwhump @ziptiesnfries @aliceinwhumperland @i-can-even-burn-salad @adangerousdisquietingthing @world-of-fire-and-flight @j-is-evil-28 @guardedchild @badluck990 @smuwfy-side-blog @suspicious-whumping-egg @starliight-musings @wolfeyedwitch
#They Thought he was the Villain#part 2#villain#torture#beatings#abuse#imprisoned#captured#sedation#forced sedation#creepy whumper#whump#possessive whumper#the captain#nonsexual nudity#cw nudity
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Twig Liveblog for Arc 9
jesus christ what a brutal arc... it felt like the baron was cutting out MY eye!! i know gordon's death was pretty heavily foreshadowed but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt! the strongest lamb just snuffed out anticlimactically by a faulty organ 😭 the academy must pay!!!
the next chapter, in which lillian injects wyvern to numb the pain--mood--was one of my favorites so far. visceral and devastating. the line about how lillian feels closest to sy immediately after his wyvern does and how sy feels most distant from her after her dose was heartbreaking--especially after seeing just how drastically it can alter a personality. does sy have an identity outside of wyvern? would lillian still love that version of sy? what unspeakable cruelty to taunt this weapon-child with visions of what a normal life might be like as the drug leaves his system, and then to make him chemically crave his own subjugation. also, if there's one thing we know about consciousness-altering substances it's that after you imbibe them you never want to do it again.... and then the dog dies in the next chapter oh my fucking god wildbow what did i ever do to you (actually don't answer that).
on a cheerier note, i think i'm ready to declare my undying support for mauer. he's so cool and sexy. he could start boiling babies alive in the next arc and i'd still defend him sorry not sorry. when they blew the duke's fucking brains out i was whooping with the rest of the mauerists. it's quite un-wildbowian, i found myself thinking, to make a religious leader so sympathetic (though the extent to which his religious veneer is just a ploy to get more people on his side is a little ambiguous), as religiosity, when it does come up in parahumans, is treated as fundamentally reactionary (the fallen being the primary example). there's also that little aside from one of the soldiers about how "safe to pray" now that the crown and academy have been repelled. i'm not quite sure what to make of it, and it's further complicated by the interlude.
the interlude, indeed, helped to clarify my thoughts about the primordials. unlike other experiments, which are either clones, edits of preexisting life, or frankenstein reanimations, the primordials are entirely new forms of life. they represent a counterpoint to the crown's attempt to create something "beyond" humanity through advanced science. and because they are truly new, they constitute a legitimate threat to the status quo: this is why they enthrall mauer, and why they terrify the crown. mauer literally chaining up a "god" of his own creation (who loathes him) to serve his own ends is, let's say, a little on the nose.
the twins were cool but the fight went on way too long. idk why getting married to the baron is treated like a fate worse than death... like girl i know tons of people who would kill to be in that position... anyway i saw arc 10 is like over 20 chapters long so it might be a while till the next one of these lol. the classic wildbow frogboil!!
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