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hwaflms · 2 years

Text

uno! ★ [k.ys]

{ ✉ } 1 new message from yeo <3 : tell that dumbass to move his hand before i move it for him.

[☆] pairing. jealous!yeosang x f!reader

[☆] genre. smut + angst + fluff | established relationship, pwp if we're being honest

[☆] wc. 6.8k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), hard dom!yeosang, bratty sub!reader (sort of), fingering, expilicit language, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it besties), use of words like 'slut', pussy slapping (like once), degradation, slight dumbification, spanking, choking (kind of), spit play, oral (mainly f receiving), rough/jealous sex, slight manhandling, dirty talk, yeosang is a lil mean, edging, orgasm control, creampie, slight overstim if you squint, i think that's it– sorry if i missed any!!

[☆] notes. naur cuz why did tumblr ruin the quality of my header :/ anyways, longest fic yet mfs !!! im pretty sure this is going to change in like a day, but i think i kinda actually like this one D: pls pls pls give me feedback in the comments/through asks/tags or reblog it, i would rlly appreciate it >:(

"shut up, i know you have like 7 cards up your ass right now!", shouts san at a poor mingi who sat cross-legged on the floor, having just innocently yelled out an enthusiastic "uno!" and was now being accused of foul play. you laugh along with them at mingi's expense, their rather brash sense of humour being something you're very used to.

"up yours, san", mingi flips him off in return, completely unaware of a sneaky jongho who had just taken a peak at his last card and was now spreading the information regarding the colour of it to those sitting around him.

your boyfriend, who was sat directly across you in the small circle the nine of you had created, gives you a look, one you knew all too well– he was getting tired of the game. in all fairness, you had been playing for a very long time now and you would have been done a while ago if not for san and wooyoung making up sixty different rules, all targeted towards the downfall of mingi who had to pick up what seemed like seventy cards but had now somehow managed to play all of them but one, much to their dismay.

when you and yeosang had first began dating, you had only met a couple of his friends, and even that was just the casual introduction and the odd, occasional wave as you saw each other when you came to visit yeosang in their dorm.

honestly speaking, you were initially glad that you didn't see much of his friends. you knew that the longer you were with yeosang, the more of them you'd have to meet, and this was a thought that made you nervous.

your apprehension didn't stem from a wrongdoing of theirs, no, it came from a insecure place in your mind that told you that your boyfriend's best friends would hate you. it was a rather irrational fear, because what reason would they really have to hate you? nevertheless, you were slowly introduced to all seven of them over the course of time, and your fears quickly dissipated when you saw his friends for what they really were– a bunch of crazy but loveable guys.

you managed to get along very well with all of them eventually, and now you were basically an "accepted member" of their group. that would explain why you were sat in their dorm for more than two hours playing a card game with the eight of them, instead of spending time alone with your boyfriend like you had originally intended to. the second you walked through the door, you were bombarded with greetings and hugs, and then forced into this highly competitive game of uno that was taking way longer to end than necessary.

the only real problem was wooyoung. at least, to yeosang that was the only problem. for some weird and very irritating reason, wooyoung was acting extra flirty with you today. it was not entirely strange because he tended to be a more touchy and affectionate person, that was his way of showing his love for someone, platonic or not. usually, that was fine, but yeosang wasn't liking exactly how much love wooyoung seemed to be showing for you on this day. in reality, wooyoung was probably just being friendly, maybe just in a slightly over-the-top way, but yeosang really didn't see it like that.

"okay, mingi's card is yellow, don't let him win", wooyoung cheekily whispers into your ear, making you turn to face him but then flinch back at the close proximity in which his face was to you. from the corner of your eye, you can see yeosang narrow his eyes at wooyoung but you smile nonetheless, nodding in agreement before adding your "change the colour" card to the pile and deciding on blue, to which mingi lets out a frustrated groan and leans over to pick up a card.

the raven-haired boy sitting next to you seemed very impressed by this, tilting his head back and basically roaring with laughter before slinging his arm around you in a friendly, celebratory manner and pulling you in for a short side hug. "i knew i could count on you." yeosang doesn't view the action in the completely platonic way that you do because he knows his face was a little too close to yours for it to be entirely friendly, yet he lets it slide when the boy lets go of you, but not before glowering at him, possibly trying to catch his eye but he never does.

"it's all fun and games until she gets to beat you", hongjoong calls out to wooyoung after playing his turn, inclining his head pointedly towards you. "and she probably will, seeing as she just eyeballed your cards when you hugged her." wooyoung turns to glare at you with an exaggerated look of betrayal on his face, placing his hand over his chest with a sputter.

"i thought...i thought we were a team", he utters indignantly, shielding his cards from your view by clutching them closer to his body so as to make a point. "we aren't a team, this is a competition", you announce with a mischievous smile, playing your reverse card and smirking at him, now knowing exactly what to do if you wanted him out.

"okay y/n, i see how it is", he mutters, holding his cards with one hand and bringing the other one to poke at your side multiple times, causing giggles to erupt from you at the feeling. you smacked at his hands, trying to get away from them but ever the persistent, he continues his torture on you. well, that was until yeosang decided to finally speak up.

"okay, that's enough, stop playing with my girlfriend and play your card instead", he remarks in an annoyed voice, which mind you, did not entirely deter wooyoung as his hands paused and returned to the game but not without mouthing "this isn't over" to you with a playful scowl. he seemed blissfully oblivious to the menacing glare he was receiving from yeosang, who's eyes turned a little softer when his gaze landed upon you. "sorry", you mouth to him with a wince, to which he shakes his head with a small smile.

the game continues on until seonghwa thrusts his fist in the air in triumph as he all but throws his last card on the pile and wins the game, to which yeosang lets out a very long and very excessive sigh, stretching his arms in the air as he goes to put his cards down since he believed the game finally came to an end, most of the others following suit.

"woah woah, where are you guys going?", san protests, raising his arms in a confused motion. "um, seonghwa won, the game is over?", you reply unsurely, stretching your own sore muscles. you see most people nod their heads in agreement, except san and wooyoung, and jongho, who grimaces with a shrug.

"the game isn't over yet, we have to play until there's only one person left", wooyoung argues with a pout. "c'mon, you can't leave now."

"what? we've been playing for so long, shut up", yeosang objects, standing up in protest. jongho shakes his head and makes an apologetic face as he motions for everyone to sit back down. "we always play until there's a last person. it's how the game works", he states, rolling his head and cracking his knuckles.

"are you fucking serious...", yeosang starts but trails off when he sees everyone else getting back into their previous positions, giving in and following them with a sigh. "okay, who's turn was it?", yunho asks wearily and the game begins once again.

you smile secretly, because you know yeosang just wants to go to his room and watch a show, maybe take a nap, not sit on the floor and play an unbearably long card game with his rowdy friends. he spent all day with them- hell, he lived with them for goodness sake, he really just wanted to cuddle in bed with you for an hour or two. shame, he'd have to wait a little longer.

two more rounds were completed, and you were starting to really feel bad for mingi, who had no hope of winning. every time he forgot to shout 'uno!' at a moderately loud volume, he was made to pick up 10 cards, and now he had so many that he wasn't even bothered to hide his cards from everyone's view, instead laying them out on the floor in front of him so he could sort them out.

"i vote we skip mingi's turn every time from now on", wooyoung quipped when he was taking a little too long to find the card he wanted to play, ignoring the aforementioned boy's shouts of disapproval, teasingly signaling towards san to play his turn.

"don't be mean, woo", you laughed, helping mingi pick a card to play out of his wide spread of options by pointing at one, making him smile brightly in gratitude.

"i'm not mean, just practical", he countered with a grin, sending a wink in mingi's direction, to which he received his second middle finger of the day in return, then turning to pat your knee while he talks. he unconsciously leaves his hand there, continuing the game without batting an eye. yeosang's watchful eyes manage to zero in on this miniscule action, softly scoffing at the audacity his friend had to be so touchy with his girlfriend in front of him.

first, he had to sit uncomfortably on the floor for hours playing a simple card game when he was supposed to be spending time with you. second, he now had to watch his friend, unknowingly or knowingly, he didn't know and frankly, didn't care, sit and flirt with you.

wooyoung, still clueless as ever, was soon baited into going off on a tangent about the authenticity of the rules of the game when hongjoong tried to help mingi by questioning some of them (some of the so-called "rules" were a little fishy sounding, because you couldn't remember ever needing to pick up cards until you got a green one if you played two sevens in a row). caught up his vivid citations of the rules of the card game, his hand remained on your knee, fingers unknowingly tapping your bare skin and playing with the thread hanging from the tear in your ripped jeans.

in the midst of laughing at the situation, you feel a sudden vibration against your thigh, then realizing it was your phone buzzing in your pocket so you fish it out, the screen lighting up in order to show you the new message.

yeo <3: tell that dumbass to move his hand before i move it for him.

you look up from your phone screen immediately to make eye contact with yeosang, who's eyes were trained angrily on wooyoung's finger that was innocently circling the skin of your knee, then flicking to yours. with a slightly sarcastic smile, you give him a look as if to say "really?", before sighing and moving to pick wooyoung's hand up and off of your leg.

you clasped his hand in yours, placing it onto his own thigh, but to no avail as wooyoung only absentmindedly intertwined your hands and continued to rant about the necessity of his severe punishments to mingi, blissfully unaware of the literal death glare he was receiving from yeosang.

"okay, that's it", he mutters angrily but it's loud enough for everyone to stop what they were doing and look at him, and he shoots up from his spot and makes his way to you. he scoops you up in his arms with ease and throws you over his shoulder while you let out a squeal, effectively ripping your hand from wooyoung's loose grasp. ignoring the gasps and protests from his friends, he simply grips you a little tighter and walks out of the room, navigating his way to a very specific bedroom.

"yeo", you exclaimed breathlessly, still a little surprised by the way he so effortlessly picked you up and carried you like you were a little rag doll, tapping at his back to get his attention. "w-where are you going? your bedroom's that way–"

you don't get to finish your sentence because yeosang delivers a sharp smack to your ass, eliciting a tiny cry from you. "i know where my bedroom is", he snaps, placing his hand back on your ass and splaying his fingers, rubbing at the stinging area soothingly. "no, we're going somewhere else", with a smirk plastered on his face, he enters wooyoung's bedroom, all but tossing you on the bed.

you let out a small "oof" when you land on the unfamiliar mattress, yeosang standing by the foot of the bed with his hands perched on the frame while he looks at you so primitively, almost like he wants to devour you. you wouldn't be surprised or bothered if he does– quite the contrary, in fact.

maybe a second or two pass of you and your boyfriend just surveying each other, your lips parted and chest heaving while he looks more calm and collected, but his eyes are a dead giveaway; while he may look composed, you know the very distinct look in his eye, it's one that contains not-so-hidden desire and want.

he crawls towards you, sitting up on his knees when he reaches you so that he towers over your leaning figure, tucking his finger under your chin and jerking your head up to look at him in the eye. you let a sultry smile grace your features, feeling your insides twist and turn in all sort of ways at the thought of yeosang fucking you in wooyoung's room to prove a point.

typically, yeosang was not an overly jealous boyfriend. he actually liked the fact that you got along with his friends, he liked seeing you chat and laugh with them, the sight so natural that it let yeosang feel like you would be a constant in his life.

maybe it was the insufferably long card game– card games were not exactly his cup of tea, and it was possible that the uncomfortable position he had to sit in and endure for so long led to him being a little cranky.

maybe it was because he barely got to spend any time with you today– your attention was occupied by his flatmates the second you entered his dorm, and then you were whisked away into playing a stupid game with them before you could so much as give him a kiss.

yeosang didn't know for sure, but maybe it was a combination of all these things that led to the emerging of the rarely active green monster. seeing you laugh at wooyoung's lame jokes and watching him place his hand on your knee, hug you and then fucking going so far as to hold you hand like it was nothing– it was too much.

"what's got you all riled up?", you mumble, stroking his chest with your finger innocently while you continue to smirk up at him.

"i don't know, maybe it was sitting across from you and watching my friend be all over you when i could do nothing about it", he pipes sarcastically, pushing you down by your shoulders so that you were now lying directly under him while he hovers over you.

"he was hardly all over me", you reply with a brief eye roll, the playful glint in your eye making the corner of his mouth want to curl upwards. "oh yeah? then what was happening?", he scoffs, bringing his hand to your waist to trail it lightly up and down your side, causing you to shiver slightly. with an almost indifferent sounding sigh, you throw both your legs up and around his waist, successfully managing to pull his crotch into yours, grinding against it in a slow manner.

"ugh, i'm bored of this, can we just cut the shit so you can fuck me already?", you remark, trailing your hands up and over his shoulders, linking them around his neck while yeosang keeps his expression neutral, allowing you to continue your ministrations for the time being.

"well, now you know how i felt. did you try and appease my boredom?", he questions, hands griping your hips and holding them down forcefully, inclining his head towards you.

you could just admit that you knew yeosang thought wooyoung was flirting with you and even with this knowledge, you allowed it, because that would be the truth. you were also aware that yeosang wasn't actually mad about it, at least, he wouldn't be after he finished rearranging your insides, because you knew you boyfriend didn't get jealous much and that he was bored as fuck out there and this was the perfect opportunity to opt out of it. the added hint of jealousy he had felt at the time acted as some form of drive to fuck you better, harder.

or, you could be a little mean and continue to tease your boyfriend, playing dumb and purposefully saying things that would piss him off. after all, he did fuck better when he had something to fuck you about, remembering that the last time he got jealous and fucked you over it, you couldn't walk properly for days. weighing the two options in your head, you just had to go with the second one because, where was the fun in the first?

you knew what you were about to say would push his jealousy over the finish line, but that was exactly what you wanted.

"you know, if you're not going to fuck me, i can just go and ask wooyoung to do it instead."

"what the fuck did you just say?"

the growl he let out was almost animalistic, securing his fingers around your throat, applying pressure as he crashed his lips on to yours. the kiss was a searing hot one, full of messy tongues and clashing teeth, his soft lips pressing firmly into yours. his tongue slips into your mouth and as your mouth wraps itself onto it, he grips on to your neck, using it to control and help your lips move along the length of his tongue.

you let out a soft mewl against his mouth and his hand busies itself trying to undo your pants, tugging them down along with your underwear, wasting no time in toying with your clit. "of course you're already wet", he scorns you with a chuckle. he pulls away from your mouth and trails kisses along your jawline, harshy attaching his lips to your skin in random places, nipping and sucking at the area. you cry out at a particularly rough bite, knowing for sure that it would leave a prominent mark, but you suppose that was the entire point.

he tugs at your shirt and you comply, raising your arms so he can remove it. gazing at your covered breasts, he leans in to litter kisses all over the tops of them, sinking his teeth into the plump surface and you groan a little and let your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging tightly at the feeling, seeing the red spot bloom when his lips are removed.

he doesn't even bother undoing your bra, he just pulls your boobs out of the cups and attaches his lips to your nipple, the force in which he sucked on it making you arch your back against his warm mouth.

"you think wooyoung can fuck this little pussy as well as me?", he all but spits the name against your boob, tongue coming out to flick rapidly against your hard nipple and delivering a rough slap to your pussy, causing you to gasp in both pain and pleasure.

"i don't know, why don't i go ask him?", you bite back, looking yeosang square in the eye with a grin until he suddenly stops playing with your cunt, lips pausing their abuse on your neck as you feel him smile against your skin.

you weren't usually so bratty, no, but you were having so much fun teasing and taunting your boyfriend that you might just start acting up more. he pulls away from your body completely despite your objections, looming over you with a dead serious expression etched on his features. "turn around. ass up", his voice was cold and demanding as he spoke his commands, urging you to do exactly what he told you to do.

he must have thought you were taking too long to place yourself in the position he wanted you to be in, because he does it for you, sighing boredly and pushing your face into the bed, gripping your hips and yanking them upwards so that you lay with your face down and ass up in the air, all for his viewing pleasure. "do you know how to count to thirty?", he asks condescendingly, rubbing his hand along the expanse of your exposed ass. you scoff and mutter a "yes" and his grips your ass, fingers digging into the flesh harshly. you hiss at the pain, trying to swat at his hands but he simply grabs both of them, holding them together behind your back with one hand, the other sliding up and down the skin of your back almost soothingly. "good to see you're not as stupid as you look. count each one."

his hand glides back down to your ass, pausing at one spot before pulling away then bringing it down sharply on to the skin, the sound of the first spank filling up the otherwise silent room. you yelp and struggle a little against his hold, but he only tightens his grasp on. "i thought i told you to count", he snaps, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing the red skin, bringing a gasp out of you. "o-one", you try to say in an even voice, hoping your face remained neutral and unaffected.

he brings his hand down a second time, angling it so that his fingers slap against your ass to provide more of a sting than pain, to which you hiss but mutter a "two", knowing that this was only the beginning.

he keeps this up until you whimper out a "t-twelve", voice trembling significantly more than before, so he scoots a little further down the bed, face-to-face with your ass. he delivers a spank at the same time he licks a stripe up from your clit to your leaking hole, your face contorting and crying out from both pleasure and pain. "enough, p-please", you plead at fourteen, face and ass both a striking red hue, the latter decorated with hand marks. he tuts and places small kisses against your burning skin, delicately blowing cool air at your tender flesh. "enough? already? but we've just started", he laughs sadistically, teeth sinking into the flesh of your ass hard, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to bring tears to your eyes and to show clear marks.

you lose count along the way but yeosang doesn't really care, switching between slapping your ass to eating your pussy like a man starved, now finding amusement in driving his fingers in and out of your hole at a fast pace, enjoying the sounds of your mixed pain and pleasure. your pussy is a leaking mess, and your skin feels as if it was on fire thanks to your boyfriend's harsh punishment, one that he was loving.

"what number are we on?", he asks even though he is aware that you don't know, wanting to further push you over the edge.

"d-dont know, please– need to", you blubber incoherently, wooyoung's pillowcase soaked with your tears and spit, yeosang's hand still pushing your further into the bed with every slap.

"need to what?", he chuckles, fingering your hole while his thumb slides along your slit and toys with your abused, throbbing clit. "are you so fucked out already that you can't even talk properly?"

you whimper pathetically, making him scoff but pick up the pace of his fingers, the sounds of his fingers and your wetness so loud and dirty. you can feel your high approaching, your moans increasing in volume and pussy clenching around his fingers, alerting him of your upcoming orgasm. "gonna cum–", you gasp but you don't get to finish the sentence because you are soon wailing, the knot in your stomach tightening but you achieve no climax, yeosang pulling his fingers out of you before you can do so.

you let out a loud sob against the pillow, rolling on to your side just in time to see yeosang stick his wet fingers into his own mouth, moaning at the taste of you and sucking them dry. "aww, did the poor baby not get to cum?", he pouts in a faux sympathetic voice, the corners of his mouth pulling down into a frown. "that's because dirty little girls don't get to cum. no, my baby's been such a brat today, hasn't she?"

you shake your head weakly, hips bucking up into nothing as tears stream down your face in rivulets. "no? you haven't been a bad girl?", he questions, palming himself through his pants. you shake your head 'no' once again, eyeing the evident tent formed in his pants. "well, i disagree."

he spreads your legs apart, diving right back into your pussy, tongue swirling around your clit, pulling away just to spit right into your hole, adding to the wet mess. your clit is already highly sensitive, and when his teeth graze it lightly, you all but scream out, bucking into his mouth.

he withdraws from your sopping cunt for a bit to speak, mouth and chin glistening with your arousal. "yeah, fucking scream. let everyone know who's making you feel this good", you know who the supposed 'everyone' is, aware that it was really only directed at one singular person and at any other time you would have rolled your eyes, but given the current state you were in, all you could do was moan out into the room in response.

just like what happened a while ago, you sense your high nearing once again, this time you felt it even stronger than before, the lack of release previously making this one bound to be even more delicious. it seemed that yeosang knew your body like the back of his hand, instantly picking up on the signs indicating your approaching finish. "you wanna cum, sweetheart?", he enquires, giving out small kitten licks to your cunt, holding your somewhat spasming hips down. you nod frantically, bringing a hand down to tangle in his hair, an action he ignores for time being.

he returns to his administrations on your hypersensitive pussy, this time, enclosing his lips around your clit and sucking it into his mouth but then pulling away right before you could cum, leaving you high and dry again. the cry you let out is weak and tired, throwing an arm across you face as you sobbed into it, yeosang holding on to it and moving it away to reveal your face.

"god, look at you", he breathes in awe, taking in your appearance. "you look so fucking pretty when you cry." he marvels at your red, puffy face, taking it in between his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs gently, the action feeling very ironic because he was the one who got you in the state to begin with. you peer up at him, all weapy and pouty and he thinks you look so fucking perfect.

looking past you and at the pillow you head rested on, his lips quirk into a smirk. "look what you've done to his pillow", he mumbles more to himself than anything, a proud look in his eye, eyes travelling over the various wet spots on his pillow and then further on the bed. "gonna fuck you from behind so that you can drool on to it."

you're past words at this point, so deprived of an orgasm and so needy that you'll take literally anything he gives you. "think i should fuck your little cunt yet? hm? think you can take it?"

you lift your head up and nod it as vehemently as you could manage, arms stretching out towards him, without the intention of actually grabbing anything. "words, baby", he orders, taking ahold of one of your hands and placing kisses on your knuckles, the feat a stark contrast to what he really wanted to do to you. the whine you release is pitiful really. you're so needy and desperate and tired that you can barely manage to move your head, and now he wants to try and piece together intelligible words?

you pull through eventually, much to his surprise. " i c-can take it, yeo. 'm a big girl", you blabber with your teary eyes ogling at him innocently, and he smiled and he caresses the side of your face with his knuckles. he trails his fingers down to your your mouth and toys and prods at your bottom lip with his thumb, eyes widening slightly when you open your mouth to suck on his thumb without him even asking you to do so, mouth engulfing it as the actions only serves to make blood rush to his cock. "yeah, you're gonna take it."

he pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a 'pop!', chuckling at the string of saliva that connected to your mouth. he breaks the string by collecting some more of your spit in his fingers and rubbing it all over your face. as if the two of you hadn't defaced the premise of wooyoung's bed enough, you feel more of your juices leak out of your tormented cunt and on to his sheets because of this, much to yeosang's delight.

he withdraws from your naked body, and you only then realise that he is still fully clothed. something about this fact makes more warmth pool in your stomach, the power dynamic proven more obvious because he's fully clothed and you're the complete opposite, entirely at his mercy. pulling his shirt off and tugging his pants and underwear down in one go, yeosang is finally on the same level as you physically.

he stands by the edge of the bed, holding the base of his cock, stroking it near your face. he's already impossibly hard and the sight of you doesn't help his case in anyways. noticing yeosang's cock out of the corner of your eye in your nearly brainless condition, you open you mouth wide for him out of habit, making him coo half adoringly and half mockingly. "would you look at that? haven't even said a word and your opening your mouth for me like the cock-hungry slut you are."

he scoffs, slapping his cock against your lips then moving it away, eyes following the way your mouth chases after him. "a little while you go you had a lot to say. what happened now? have i fucked you dumb without even having fucked you yet?"

you don't even respond, wrapping your lips around the head of his dick and reaching out to grab and what you couldn't fit in your mouth, and yeosang laughs at you. it's a mean, condescending laugh and you shouldn't like the way it sounds as much as you do, yet it's music to your ears. "as much as i love fucking your mouth, i think we'll save that for another time. i think you're ready for my cock now. you think so?"

you've learnt by now that yeosang appreciates your verbal affirmations, and that he probably won't give you what you want unless you tell him you want it, so that's what you do. "wanna feel you in me, sang, please fuck me", you mumble drowsily, your eyes droopy but still so filled with desire.

that was more than enough for him, raising an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. "i'm going to wreck you." a promise he most definitely kept.

he picks you up easily, flipping you over once again, holding your somewhat shaky body in place now that you were on all fours with your ass facing him. he observes your figure, eyes lingering on your ass for a little while longer with the intentions of spanking it one more time just for the hell of it, but changes his mind, deciding you've had enough of that for one day. what he can't do, however, is stop himself from sliding his tongue into your pussy to lap up your juices again, causing you to jolt forward to which he places a kiss on your inner thigh, whispering a small "pretty baby".

lining his cock with your entrance, he spreads your wetness around with the head of his cock, slowly pushing the tip in. you hold back a groan, awaiting the feeling of being stuffed full of him, but it never comes since he teasingly removes it, slapping the top of his cock against your pussy. you're so far gone already that you just whine, tears filling your eyes to the brim and yeosang takes pity on you, or maybe he doesn't, because he rams his cock into you at full speed, thrusting into you roughly without waiting for you to adjust.

you hiss and cry out at the initial stretch, but the feeling of your cunt being taken by yeosang's dick is so intoxicating that you can't seem to find it in you to care. yeosang fucks into you with every ounce of energy he has left in him, digging his fingers into the skin of your hips and throwing his head back with a hearty moan. "fuck, you feel so good angel. this dirty little cunt takes me so well", he grits his teeth and drawls, voice thick with arousal, your pussy clenching around him as your body is already so accustomed to the feeling of him.

he pulls out of you once again, and you are more than ready to complain because you are sensitive, on edge and you really need to just cum, but there is no need for that as yeosang slams his cock right back in to you, repeating the action several times.

yeosang pistons into you, faster than he ever has before and the sounds of skin on skin and his hips meeting your ass ricochets off the wall of wooyoung's room. "look at what we're doing. fucking this pussy in my best friend's room", he chuckles in a sadistic manner, and you know he's enjoying the location way more than he should.

contradictory to his prior wishes, he does land his hand on your flesh once again, making sure to rub the sore spot right after. you wish you could see him right now. you can only imagine how beautiful he must look, covered in sweat which makes it look like he's glowing, head thrown back with the most mesmerising sounds slipping from his lips.

right on cue, he lets out a soft moan as his hips snap into you, grinding and rotating his hips a little to heighten the immense pleasure you were feeling. you vocalise your wishes to him, and he's more than happy to oblige. you lay yourself back down in the previous position you were in, on your back and him hovering over you. he hooks his fingers under your knees, scooting closer on the bed and wrapping your legs around his defined waist.

he slides his hands up and down your thighs gently as he positions himself again, sliding into you with ease due to all your wetness. he picks up where he left off, this time lifting up one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder, fucking into you in this new angle.

in doing so, you let out your loudest moan yet and he knows he's found you sweet spot, so he continues to thrust into you in the same spot, bringing a hand down to rub furiously at your clit. "oh, right here?", he teases, slowing his thrusts marginally, gyrating his hips with a grin. a couple curses and other incoherent words are all you can get out, feeling like you were on cloud nine with the way ueosang was treating you.

"fuck, louder, baby. let everyone know what's happening to you in this room."

it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what was happening behind the closed door, but you couldn't stop yourself from groaning out loud if you wanted to. you knew he was close, but you were closer.

his thrusts are getting more sloppy, and his grunts are increasingly frequent, letting you know of his stance. "are you close, angel? gonna cum all over my cock?", his words sound strained and he seems have to lost his meaness from before, but you were still so spaced out that all you could do was incline your head the slightest fraction, but he understands and lets out a small laugh. "good. i want you to scream my name as you cum."

the hand that was playing with your pussy speeds up along with his thrusts, circling your clit, pinching it and rubbing it between his fingers. with the combination of his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot and with the heightened sensitivity and pleasure you were receiving from his fingers, you knew you were about to comply with his demand. it's his last words that do it for you.

"next time, i'm going to bring wooyoung in here and make him watch while i fuck into oblivion."

you feel your entire body go limp as you cry out his name and cum, yeosang thrusting into you shallowly to help your ride out your orgasm, letting you come down from your high. you notice that he hasn't cum yet and you are about to question it before you see the sinister looking grin etched on to his mouth, mumbling a "my turn", before he pulls out and then rams into you again, mercilessly thrusting.

you quite literally scream, every part of you so sensitive having just achieved orgasm, but you can't deny that the pain feels good. his hand reaches down to squeeze your boob, tweaking the nipple with his fingers. your face is streaming with tears again like before, yeosang cooing as his thrusts become more sporadic. "there, there, baby. fuck, you look so pretty, all for me."

when he finally cums, he stills his hips completely, letting his cum fill you to the brim, holding a continuous groan until he finished. he pulls out and you can feel some of his cum drip out of you, yeosang's eyes trained on the sight of your glistening cunt that was pumped full of his seed and he pushes some of it back in with two of his fingers.

you squirm in discomfort a little and yeosang hushes you, leaning down to pet your hair softly. "did so well for me, angel."

he smooths your hair down and off your face, wiping your tears away as your breathing becomes more steady. "my perfect baby", he praises, taking one of your hands in his and bringing the fingertips up to his mouth to press kisses against. your preen at the praise, corners of your mouth curving up into a dopey smile, mumbling small a "thank you", feeling your eyelids starting to droop.

he flops down in the space next you with a tired sigh, both of your chests heaving and eyes wanting to shut. he turns his head to the side to look at you, a soft expression taking over his face as his lips curve into a smile. your eyes are closed but you feel his knuckles caress your cheek tenderly and you lean into his touch, whining a little. "we should probably get you cleaned up and out of wooyoung's room", he mumbles with a weary chuckle, laying on his side and slipping an arm around you, pulling you into him.

just as he moves to press his lips against yours sweetly, the two of you hear hushed whispers coming from the other side of the door.

"do you think they're done yet?"

"why are they so loud?"

"shut up, they can probably hear you!"

"okay but, do you think my fucking bed is still intact?" "why'd they have to go fuck in my room."

judging by the tone of voice and the words, you can only presume that the last person to speak was wooyoung, and you almost feel bad about corrupting his poor bed, but you know yeosang doesn't because of the proud smirk plastered on his mouth, and you slightly smack his chest with a laugh.

someone from outside knocks on the door. "what?", yeosang calls out, sounding sleepy and spent. wooyoung sheepishly tells you of his plans, voice growing fainter, which tells you he is walking away.

"uh, you guys can like, keep my room for tonight. i don't think i want to sleep there knowing what just happened."

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

Not a Piece of Art

Part 2/5 - The Dinner Party

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re invited to the targets house for dinner, will they see through your act? Or can you keep your hatred hidden for long enough to get the information you need?

Authors note: Thank you for all the lovely comments and likes and reblogs💕❤️! I’ve been feeling kinda bleh recently so I apologize for it taking so long and I’m also sorry if it’s crap but I’m pretty happy with the story line (also there’s gonna be a follow up to this series for sure). Anyways hope y’all are keeping well and thank you for reading!!

Warnings: THIS STORY WILL BE 18+ starting next chapter (minors DNI) . For now it’s just swearing and allusions to abusive relationships

Word count: 5.7k

Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial

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You watch the moving trucks hired by the DEA to facilitate your luxurious, but imaginary lifestyle roll up the driveway one after the other. Each truck opened to reveal piece after piece of expensive furniture better suited to the silver screen than your real life adding to the dysphoria you'd been feeling over the past few days. You were now living and enjoying someone else's life, a fact that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Though the anxiety you were feeling was likely due to the very real threat of being murdered, and not the lavish home decor you were now in possession of. If there was one thing to be thankful for it was your close proximity to the water, you’d been landlocked for too long. Peace washes over you as you watch the water break against the cliff face. You turn towards the target's house gazing up to the balcony on the third floor. The doors are swung open and a woman in white stands with her arms outstretched on the railing, standing like a queen overseeing her kingdom. You were being watched. You lift your hand up to block out the sun, hoping to get a better look at her, but she's gone by the time you do.

Noticing the overwhelmed look plastered on your face as the trucks arrived Javier decided he would take on directing the movers. Only calling for your help when furniture needed to be placed, as interior design was admittedly not in his wheelhouse.

“You know where that goes?” Javi asks the movers, lighting up a cigarette and placing it between his lips. The movers nod as they lug the enormous mattress inside. He turns scanning the landscape to locate your whereabouts, you'd been all over the place this morning. Whether you were playing into the spacey artist trope or the pressure was finally getting to you he wasn’t really sure. Either way he wanted to make this transition as easy as possible for you, and considering you weren't a field agent it was also his responsibility to keep you safe. He spots you near the walkway that leads down to the ocean, a gentle breeze blows in from the beachfront causing the linen dress wrapped around you to part just above your thigh. There's a relaxed smile etched on your face, resulting in a calm that Javi had never witnessed emanating from you before.

An arm snakes around your waist and you lean into it for a moment before remembering who it belonged to causing your body to instinctively retract. You push back off his chest and watch as Peña shakes his head in quiet frustration before turning back towards the moving trucks. You chew your lip, you knew you had to do better at acting the part you’d been ordered to play. If you didn’t this mission would be over before it even started. Memorizing your alias was easy enough as was adopting the british accent, but acting in love with Peña. That was where it all fell apart, but if there was one thing you knew for sure it was that you did your best work under pressure. You swallow hard as the last few trucks slip away down the driveway. The notion of being left alone with Peña for the first time was an anxiety not even the ocean could sooth. With a deep breath you will your legs to move towards your new home which is currently looking more like a cell. You walk by Peña who snuffs out his cigarette in the dirt before following you inside.

“Why would two people ever need a house this big?” he asks, closing the door behind you, his voice bouncing off the marble walls.

“So they never have to see each other.” you offer, running your hand along the granite countertops.

“That felt targeted,” he says, watching your hands movement intently.

“It wasn’t, at least not intentionally. You notice how this whole back wall is glass? Weird design choice” you remark, trying to open up a civil dialogue with him.

“Probably built it so they can keep tabs on the neighbours” he offers coming up behind you, standing a little too close for comfort.

“Why build a house across from yours if you're trying to be undetected?” you ask, turning around nearly colliding with his chest, huffing at the inconvenience before maneuvering around him.

“If you were a federal agent and a big empty house was available for a stake out would you take it or would you go for the rocky beach or bug infested forest? Keep your enemies close, they expect the feds to show up here, so they make it easy to monitor” he explains, in a surprisingly uncondescending way.

“Hadn’t thought about that” you admit.

“Don’t teach you everything in those fancy buildings with ivory towers” he chuckles, as he sits down on one of the couches.

“Never claimed that they did” you retort “did they bring any food in?” you ask, moving towards the fridge.

“Not sure, figured the kitchen was your domain, can you bring me a beer” Javi says, the subtle misogyny fueling the rage simmering inside you.

“I’m sorry what exactly did your last servant die of?” You snap back.

“What? We’re supposed to keep up appearances” he responds calmly from the couch, feet crossed on the coffee table that cost more than your yearly rent.

“And what exactly is my appearance supposed to be? The domesticated housewife who brings you beer, cooks you dinner and sucks you off?” you respond, rage finally boiling over.

“Well I hadn't asked for that last one yet but...”

“Unbelievable! You can cook for yourself Peña. I'm not your wife and im definitely not your fucking mother”

“You certainly nag like her. Seriously a beer, it's not asking much” he demands.

“You know...” you say opening the fridge and pulling out a beer walking it over to him “I don't know if you’ve heard...” you continue, nudging his feet off the table with your calves as you place the beer down “of these amazing things...” you say, kneeling down, parting his legs and rising up between them, making eyes at him as you slowly run your hands up his thighs. “Called legs!” you state slapping your palms down on his thighs smiling as the growing smirk on his face quickly disappears “You should try using them sometime” you finish standing back up, grabbing the beer from the table and heading back into the kitchen to cook yourself, and only yourself, dinner. You'd managed to stay out of each other's hair for the rest of the evening, but another blowout ensued when it came to figuring out your sleeping situation.

“C'mon you don't have to be such a...” Javi exclaims calmly

“Such a what Peña?” you ask watching him bite his tongue “No please finish that sentence. I’d love to hear what thought provoking and truly innovative ideas you have about me.” You retort

“Just get in the bed” he pleads, lifting up the sheets and motioning his hand towards it.

“With you? I'd rather be shot” you state.

“Keep acting like this and your wish may just get granted sweetheart” he says through gritted teeth, the petulant show you were putting on wearing thin.

“Newsflash Peña! They can’t see us in here, so I think I'll take my chances on the couch” you assumed it was far enough away from the windows to keep you from prying eyes.

“Your fucking funeral” he shouts down the hall, watching you storm off with an armful of sleepwear you'd brought from home. The sleepwear was not flattering nor did it fit into the rich aesthetic you were currently upholding, but at this point, you didn't care. You'd chosen the oversized band shirt and basketball shorts because they hid your body away from prying eyes. Not that Peña would be looking, you hardly qualified as his type. You flop down on the couch rolling your eyes at the beer bottles he’d left there, likely for you to clean up. Irritated you fall asleep, cursing the couch for being inexplicably the most uncomfortable thing you'd ever had the misfortune of sitting on.

Your woken as the doorbell sounds throughout the house startling you so badly that you fall off the couch with a loud thud. “Shit!” you curse realizing it was likely the target. As quick as you can, you strip off your pyjamas and throw on the robe you had snatched in a hurry last night, only just realizing it was practically sheer. You yawn as you open the door to a beautiful woman who you immediately recognize as the target's wife, Helena. Presumably the same woman who you had seen on the balcony yesterday. She looked every bit a billionaire's wife with her hair neatly styled, 6 inch heels and perfect makeup while you, well you currently looked, and smelt, like you’d slept in a sewer.

“Hi im Helena, we saw you move in yesterday, we live next door.”

“We?” you ask squinting into the early morning light as another yawn escapes your lips

“Me and my husband” She says looking past you towards the couch where you had slept. Shit. Peña was not going to let you live that one down. Speaking of the devil, he appears from the bedroom in an open robe, and very thin linen pants, a look that made you realize why so many women were easily charmed by him.

“Cara mia, who's at the door?” he asks, eyes darting to the obviously slept in couch before settling on the beautiful woman standing before him. A woman who'd have his full attention if it wasn't for the transparent robe clumsily wrapped around your body.

“Our new neighbor” you say, refraining from using a cutesy nickname afraid you'd choke on it.

“Forgive my wife, she hasn’t been sleeping well” he says, coming over and wrapping himself around you, kissing the top of your head, before resting his chin on it.

“I find I sleep best when next to my husband” she responds offering Javi a megawatt smile which he returns.

“Maybe if your husband doesn't snore like an elephant” you respond sleepily with a soft laugh. You were surprised how well the british accent rolled off your tongue despite the early hour.

“Mine does as well, shakes the whole house! The things we put up with when we are truly in love are amazing” shes says, reigniting your anxiety “We want you to come for dinner, we've hired a chef” she continues.

“We’d love to, always good to know the neighbours, we like to make sure we're keeping good company” Javi reponds.

“Excellent, lets say, 7:30, be on time, my husband doesn't like to be kept waiting.” The second the door shuts you wiggle out from his grasp and make your way over to the kitchen pouring yourself, and only yourself, some coffee, still tired from the piss poor sleep you'd gotten last night. At least this time it wasn’t because you had to listen to someone having rigourous sex through the walls.

Javier follows close behind snatching the cup from your hands and taking a sip, knowing full well it wasn’t meant for him. He watches your eyes bulge slightly and your jaw tightens before you storm off into the bedroom to change out of the see through robe, much to his dismay.

“We need to go over the plan for tonight,” he says from the kitchen.

“Alright what is it?” you ask emerging in one of the many luxurious outfits provided to you.

“We’ll scout it out, find the room where they keep the paintings nd take the samples you need.”

“Ya” you say “and how exactly am I supposed to sneak in test tubes filled with liquid that traces drugs. ” you ask

“Bring a purse? I don't know. You're the genius you figure it out” he shrugs.

“I could wear a long skirt and strap them to my legs?”

“No they'll know you're hiding something,” he says, shooting down your idea.

“Purse it is then” you respond. “If they come back positive then what?”

“We can figure that out later, but i'll drop hints that the money I've made has been done in less than legal ways, and mention your outstanding knack for counterfeiting. Oh and wear something short tonight” he says “More to see means less to hide” he offers when he sees you glaring at him. “ and no scowling at me while we're in there, unless you really want to blow it” he laughs, your hatred for him almost comical at this point.

“What am I supposed to do when you're being insufferable then” you dig, with a wide fake smile.

“Save them up for later, besides it won't be me in there with you, it'll be my character, who you don’t hate.”

7:00pm

You change into a burgundy dress with an open back that falls well above your mid thigh, its length hardly covering you. You make a note not to bend over throughout the night, as you sling on the high heels that cost more than all your shoes combined. You grab the swabs and plastic bags needed to keep them sterile and stuff them into your purse before slipping on your wedding ring, and exiting into the kitchen.

“Alright, how do I look?” you ask, reopening the purse and re organizing the material inside it. When you finally look up you’re taken aback. Peña's usual attire of tight jeans and button up t shirt’s had been replaced by a stunning velvet pastel coloured jacket worn over top, a partially unbuttoned silk dress shirt and black dress pants. He cleaned up well, very well.

Your prolonged look doesn't go unnoticed by Javi, nor does the way your eyes quickly dart back down to your purse when he meets your gaze. He refrains from making a snarky comment knowing it would only piss you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do before infiltrating a highly dangerous situation.

“Perfect, hermosa” he says, he wasn’t lying about it either. He knew you weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but god if you didn't look perfect tonight. Pretending to be in love with you would be easy enough for him, he hoped you’d be able to maintain the act as well. He watches as you move gracefully around him in heels that were working exceptionally well at emphasizing your... assets. He averts his eyes when you reach up for a bottle of wine knowing that more than you’d want him to see would be out.

“You know I can speak Spanish, right?” you say, a small smile creeping on your lips before quickly disappearing back into the cold facade you were determined to keep up against him.

“Well, I do now” he laughs, slightly embarrassed he got caught out complimenting you sincerely. He slides on his wedding band and escorts you out the door.

“God how do people walk in these for more than 15 mintues” you mutter, your feet already killing you. You almost regretted pushing Peñas arm away when he’d offered it to you earlier. Approaching the house you feel his hand wrap around your waist and you lean into him in an attempt to take some pressure off your feet. He rings the doorbell, lowering his hand as he hears the heels approaching from down the hall. Lifting up the hem of your dress he begins rubbing small circles over your thigh with his thumb. Any other time and you'd have broken his hand without a second though, but it fell well within the contract you’d had him sign detailing exactly where and when he was allowed to touch you.

“Welcome” Helena says as she opens the door in an equally revealing dress. She leads you through the enormous entrance way and into the main foyer, gazing up you see balconies on each level overlooking the large ballroom area. Your amazement at the house was cut short as you turned to see Peña who was currently only paying attention to Helena's fine architecture. If your eye rolls wouldn't give your true feeling for eachother away, his ogling certainly might. You elbow him harshly in ribs causing his hand to inadvertently dig deeper into your skin. His grip releases as Helena's husband enters into the room grabbing her and kissing her deeply for just long enough that both you and Javier feel uncomfortable.

“Welcome” he booms after separating from Helena, grasping Javis hand in his. You can see the veins in his arm bulge, as he clamps down on Peñas hand in a bizarre play for dominance.

“Here” you say offering him the wine, causing him to release his grip “Your home is as stunning as your wife” you smile as he looks down at the bottle reading its label.

“This one’s from a good year! Neither of our wives were even born then, lucky for us” he laughs, winking at you “We’ll have it with dinner.” he continues, pulling Javi into his side and walking him towards the bar.

Helena smiles at you and raises her eyebrows, rolling her eyes at her husband's behaviour. “Come now, alcohol will get us through the night” she states, leading you down the hallway. You knew her suspicions were high, and it wasn't lost on you that she’d likely shared her feelings with her husband, but she was being remarkably kind, which only added to your concern.

“Drink? What’s your poison, Carino?” Carlos demands of you. He was larger than life in both stature and personality, charming but in a terrifying way.

“I do believe he's talking to you love” you joke, smiling up at Javi earning a laugh from Helena.

“Whiskey, neat.” he says, you couldn't tell if Carlos was amused or upset by your disobedience, but the way Peña was currently pulling you discreetly out of Carlos’ reach made you think it was the latter.

“I usually don't ask twice, but for someone so beautiful and so clever, I'll make the exception. Though just his once” Javis grip around you relaxes and you flash Carlos a smile.

“Gin and tonic, if you don't mind”

“Any preference” he asks.

“Dealers choice”, you say, offering him back the control which seems to cut the tension and it's not long before he’s once again laughing with Javi.

“We're glad to have neighbours again '' Carlos says “especially ones who seem so agreeable.” His approval doesn’t relax you. Approval wasn’t trust and you’re well aware that this was just as much an interrogation as it was a dinner party. Carlos takes a seat in one of the upholstered armchairs gesturing for Javi to join him. Helena nods her head towards the couch and you follow her lead. Your eyes are quickly pulled off her when Peña yanks you down onto his lap.

“Darling!” you exclaim thanking the lord you didn't use his real name by mistake. “I could have spilled this very expensive drink all over this very expensive chair, I'm so sorry! I'd say he's not usually like this but...”

“I understand his need to have a beautiful woman in his arms as often as possible, it's why I'm on my fourth wife!” he boasts.

“I'm hoping i'll stick.” Helenea says, holding her drink up as she gazes lovingly over to Carlos, though something behind her eyes told another story. Perhaps you weren't the only one harbouring a secret hatred. “I'm hoping you’ll both stick as well. Neighbours can be problematic, nosy even, our last ones were before they...moved” Helena says from the couch

“Hard to imagine someone tiring from living in the house. It's beautiful, did you build it?” you ask

“Paid for it, but Helena designed it the whole thing, she's very gifted.” Carlos brags.

“I'd have to agree with that,” Javi says, smiling at her which she returns, a flirtation playing on both their faces. Javis hands may be on you but his eyes were on her and if you were picking up on it Carlos certainly had as well. You jump slightly when the server enters the room to inform the group that dinner was ready.

Javi pulls out a chair for you and you sit down placing your hand on his as he takes his seat next to you. The meal was the best you ever had, five delicious courses each one more decadent than the last.

“You don’t take her out to many five star restaurants? It seems as if she's never eaten such a meal!” Carlos excalims. Evidently you were doing a piss poor job at hiding your delight.

“I'm still getting used to the lifestyle if i’m honest. Though I imagine a meal such as this is still rare, even at the most expensive restaurants” you say before Javi can respond for you, the recovery impressing him slightly.

“You should have seen what she was eating before I met her, back when she was a starving artist” Javi says, as you bring a hand up to rub along the velvet jacket covering his broad shoulders.

“The billionaire and the starving artist, now I must know. How did you come to find each other?” Helena asks.

“My art dealer went to New York and brought back one of her paintings, it came with a photo and after seeing it I knew I had to have her, if she’d take me”

“And how did an old man like him convince a sweet young thing like you to marry him?” Carlos asks.

“No convincing needed, not when he sent thousands of my favourite flowers to my studio before showing up at the door himself. Any man willing to put that much time and money towards meeting me deserves a date. At least in my books and he’s continued to prove himself to me ever since.” You gaze up at him lovingly, so convincing that for a moment even he forgets you hate his guts.

“What are they? Her favorite flowers?” Helena probes, earning a grunt from Carlos presumably displeased with his wifes intrusiveness.

“Sunflowers. They're hard to find in New York, especially in the winter, I had to ship them from California.” Your gaze of faux adoration turns quickly to genuine surprise. How had he known what your favourite flowers were? It wasn't outlined in your character profile and you'd certainly never told him.

“I’ve seen the piece, its beautiful, your wifes very talented,”

“You should see her school portfolio, copies of works that were almost exact replicas of the originals. She possesses the talent of a hundred artists before her”

“You flatter me. Copying is a technique used to learn, but it's no measure of true artistry or creativity” you laugh. “When did you see my work, were you in New York?”

“Oh no I'm an art dealer myself, but I have people go to places for me. Your work was passed over my desk a few weeks ago.” Carlos explains.

“Perhaps I could paint you something then I would finally have a truly unbiased critic” You watch as Carlos slowly nods his head, contemplating your offer.

‘You’ll have to see our art collection, we have pieces here from all over the world” Helena says,

“How long have you been in the business?’ you ask, taking Carlos as a man who liked to show off

“longer than you've been alive” he says winking at you.

“Well I can only imagine what pieces you must have , you've proven to have exquisite taste, in all areas of life.” you smile eyes briefly darting to Helena.

“Helena show her the gallery would you, I wish to speak with my friend here in private”

“Will you be joining us later?” Helena asks, causing him to grunts out a yes before pulling Javi into another room to talk about god knows what. She leads you up to the second floor, each step you take causing a sharp pain to shoot down your foot’s arch.

“You get used to the heels, small price to pay for the lifestyle. Walking around in them in the house for a while helps.” she explains.

“Thank you” you say. “Somedays I dont think I'll ever really acclimatize to the lifestyle.” She leads you into a large room, greek style pillars run through the middle while art from around the world lines the walls. If the pieces were real this room was worth millions.

“How does your family feel about you living here? It must be hard them being so far away in England”

“I uhm...I... don’t have any.” You can feel her eyes boring into you assessing the answer you just gave her. “They passed, when I was 19” you continue turning to meet her gaze.

“I'm so sorry. To lose them so young must have been devastating, but I don't need to tell you that, do I” she says, shaking her head. You nod swallowing hard gazing back to the paintings. “Lucky he found you I suppose, and such a handsome man at that. Many billionaires are.... not.”

“Lucky for us both then” you say, moving along the wall “these painting are beautiful, I envy you being surrounded by such formidable pieces, and only a walk away”

“Yes'' she says, as if she doesn't care. She's watching you intently, trying to suss out where your loyalties lied, your lack of descriptive fondness for your husband suddenly seemed like a poor choice on your part. Before she can ask another question you hear Carlos yell out for her, the noise startling you both, so much so that her hand clamps down on your wrist.

“Duty calls” she says, composing herself and relaxing her grip on you.

“Should I come with you?” you ask, playing into the deer in headlights trope which seemed to have an effect on Helena.

“No, he asked for just me. I don't like to disobey him, he's not a kind man when not listened to.”

“Are you safe here” you ask.

“As long as I don’t cause trouble I should be.” she affirms.

“Well, you're welcome at ours, at any time. If anything happens, even if it doesn't you can stay with us. Heavens knows we have the room.” you say sincerely, the concern coming from you, not your character. Helana nods offering you a soft smile squeezing your hand before leaving the room.

“See how obedient she is, how compliant, she's perfect, don’t you think!” Carlos says

“Hard to argue with that,” Javi responds, giving her a once over.

“And beautiful yes, c'mon you are married not dead” he prompts when Javi doesn't respond immediately

“Very much so” he says, smiling at Helena before turning to Carlos who was intent on showing off his wife in the most demeaning way possible.

“Was there something you needed love?” Helena asked. She was used to her husbands showing her off to other men, but she was growing tired of it. She was involved in her husband's work, primarily in the organization making sure everything ran smoothly, she knew if it didn't she would inevitably be to blame. She valued her life, so she learnt fast, adapted like a pro. Four years later and her husband hadn’t offed her yet. She was a mastermind in a career she had been inadvertently forced into, but a mastermind nonetheless. To her husband she was nothing more than a trophy, but better to be that than a punching bag.

“A word in private” he says, gesturing to her with a come hither motion.

“Your wifes in the art room, up the stair, down the hall to the left, take the drink with you, we won't be a moment” He says, his eyes telling Javi to vacate the room. He lets out a grumble as he closes the door behind him. He shakes his head, swirling the whiskey as he walks towards the gallery. He’d fumbled tonight by not making it clear that he only had eyes for his wife, a hard task considering Helena, who he realized too late was likely meant to see if his gaze could be easily swayed. Which it had. All thoughts about any other woman cease to exist when he walks into the gallery and sees you bent over swabbing a painting. Something about watching you in your element had always been mesmerizing to him. It’s why he was always dropping off files for you, the task could easily be outsourced, but he enjoyed watching you maneuver with ease around the various machines.

“You should be more careful querida,” he says, chuckling as you jump back.

“Watch the door, would you? I've got two more to do” he leans back against the frame, one eye on the door, one eye on you watching as you meticulously swab the remaining paintings. “All good, you don’t think they keep cameras in here?” you ask, closing up your purse.

“No. Cameras are easy to hack.” he says nonchalantly, as he comes over to you stopping at your side looking up at the painting, suddenly understanding people's fascination with art. You grab the drink from his hand and take a sip placing it back down on the empty pedestal propping yourself up along with it when you hear footsteps approaching.

“Come here” you demand, and he does, eyes suddenly darker than before. He stops a few inches in front of you. “Closer” you beckon, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him into you. You drape your arms around his shoulder extending your neck allowing his mouth to graze lightly over the skin just in time for Helena and Carlos to witness it. You push him off you in pretend shock.

“Please, don’t stop on our account” Carlos laughs

“I'm sorry, god these pieces must be worth thousands and here I am sitting on one” you say hoping the act wasn’t too transparent.

“Don’t apologize, a work of art belongs on a pedestal” Carlos says, the complementing causing Javis jaw to noticeably clench. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for, maybe they would buy this relationship after all.

“We should probably be going, once she starts it's hard to get her to stop,” Javi says.

“So that’s how she trapped you” the husband responds, the entire exchange causing you to cringe internally. You hop down off the stool as Javi finishes the whiskey offering the glass to Helena who takes it before leading you towards the front door.

“We must do this again soon,” she says settling into Carlos’ arm

“Perhaps at ours next time?” You offer

“A generous offer, but we prefer to entertain.” He says

“Then I look forward to seeing you soon, especially if another meal like that is in store” As you exit the mansion Javi makes sure his hand is visibly running over your body, but you slap it away the second you can.

“Ouch” he says, shaking out the hand, the rings on your fingers leaving a particular sting on his skin.

“Suck it up” you respond, having had enough of him for the night.

“Cut the shit, your attitude problem is going to get us killed” he whispers through gritted teeth.

“I don’t have an attitude problem. I just have a problem with you” You say, turning to face him and prodding a finger into his chest “ and don’t act like you ogling his wife was helping our case either. Ya I slipped up tonight, but so did you, so shoulder some of the blame you’re throwing my way.”

“Jealousy’s a nice colour on you” he laughs, knowing how riled up it would get you.

“Ha!” you fake laugh “ because it's jealousy and not the fact that your inability to keep it in your pants is going to get me killed.” You exclaim as you enter the kitchen grabbing down a glass and chugging some water before going into the art room where you were storing the testing kits.

You? Jealous? Of what exactly. What did he think he had to offer that would make you want or need to be the subject of his attention. Attention he gave to anything that walked or batted its eyelashes at him. Jesus he was insufferable, you hated that he had this notion that your anger was based on jealousy and not multiple interactions where he'd failed to impress you. Even if you had come off as jealous it was all a part of the act. He had been acting jealous throughout the night, did he think you weren't competent enough to do the same? You had three degrees for fucks sake, you deserve some credit. “Fucking asshole” you mutter, the manifestation of the words helping you to calm down enough to dip the q tips in the liquid, sure enough, they came back positive the paintings had been near drugs, you’d tell Peña about that later. You see the light on in the bedroom as you exit the “art room” and you head towards it determined to get one last punch in before going to bed.

Javier had just settled into the enormous bed he had the luxury of having all to himself, moments away from flicking the light switch when he notices your figure in the door frame.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks

“I think he's abusive, the husband you were getting along with so nicely” you spit out, the venom intended to question his character in a hurtful way, but it doesn't seem to phase him.

“It's the job to get friendly with the monsters, doesn't mean I like them” he reasons

“I told her she could come here if anything happened, so we’ll have to hide this stuff a bit better” you remark, turning your failed attempt to get one last dig in, into a valid reason for starting up a conversation.

“Guess you'll have to stop sleeping on the couch then” he smirks. Check mate. Your eyes bore into the bed you had just talked yourself into sharing with Javier Peña.

#javi x y/n #javier pena x reader #javi x you #javi x reader #javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #narcos fanfic #narcos #enemies to lovers

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troop52 · 3 years

Note

do u !!! have any character theme songs for the troop boys? Like any songs you think really fits them (and why u think it fits)?

THATS A GREAT QUESTION!!

Before I get into it Im going to plug this collaborative Troop Playlist on Spotify, feel free to add onto it!! Continuing with my picks

I think a lot of the songs I associate with The Troop in general are just because I happened to listen to them around the same time I got into the book in the first place (So they could only be tangentially related BUT only if you squint hard) Example: Drunk by The Living Tombstone, cant really tie it into the story but in my mind its linked Some better, more fitting songs under the cut (Side note its LONGGG IM SORRY... Also its all YouTube links because some of these arent on Spotify :'^()

Disclaimer -Like 95% of my choices arent really a "These lyrics match up exactly 1 to 1" but more of an overall "the vibe/general idea its trying to capture lines up" type thing. If that makes sense.

Its Alright by Jack Stauber: Kind of self explanatory, I think its a perfect song for these guys. From "It's alright, I'm here, Everything's alright, Feels weird but calm, I wanna hear It's alright" to the whole sound of it- its all great. Equal parts distressing and sad with an almost eerie calmness to it. Despite it all theyre gonna be alright, right?

The Second Little Piggy by Worthikids: Another one that I think is sort of self explanatory- at least with the chorus. "If my brain turns to mush, If the shit hits the fan, Will you be my friend?" Kind of the falling apart of everything, specifically their relationships, in light of the incident.

Poor George by James Supercave: Another case of "listened to at the same time I read the book" BUT I was actually making a Troop PMV script with that song. I never finished it but maybe Ill revisit it... just for you

Cold Summer by Le Matos ft Computer Magic: I dont even think this takes place in the summer but the VIBES and also it came from Summer of 84, which is another good piece of murder boy media.

Treehouse by Alex G ft Emily Yacina: This is a Eef and Max type of song because they are bffs and thats final. Basic song because Im not creative, but I think its a nice heart to heart theyd have (with Eef doing the talking)

Fifteen Minuets by Nick Krol: On the flipside heres a song that goes with Eef and Maxs friendship fracturing, once again more from Eefs side than Maxs. THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGG

As far as songs for the boys as individuals hmmm thats a good one that I havent thought about as much...

MAX + The Ghosts by The Real Tuesday Weld: That survivors guilt... lyrics arent like a perfect match but I think it gets that sort of hollow feeling across. Hes haunted man... + Final Girl by Electric Youth: Ok its a little funny because har har Final Girl Trope but I mean HE IS ONE. ANd dont look at me its a nice song- "Others were gone, and you kept going on, You know they never really noticed, you were always different, One by one, They're all done, And you're the last one standing" + Going Grazy by Lonesome Wyatt and the Holy Spooks: HONESTLY this could go for all the characters but Im tagging it onto Max because hes the one who has to deal with the aftermath of losing everyone (sorry survivors guilt Max again </3) "Everyone's saying my mind is unsound, 'Cause I always see you when you aren't around" "They're gonna wrap me in a jacket of white, And lock me away in a room without light" is what cements it as a Max song for me

EEF + The Existential Threat by Sparks: Once again starting sad, I link this one specifically to his paranoia about the worms- especially with lines like "Can't they see the existential threat is on its way". Kind of exasperated no one else can see the danger (he thinks) hes in. + Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother: I know I know its basic but I cant help it!!! Eef anger issues arc we are shaking hands me too + Haunted by Laura Les: Eef struggles with people seeing him as "just like his father" and I think we can get some good angst out of this track if we keep that in mind. Especially the back half of the song with lyrics like "Do you think I'm frightening?" and "Mirrors shatter when I'm passing, broken glass and crashing" since he is just a reflection of his dad (to others at least). Also song good.

KENT + Goodbye Mr A by The Hoosiers: Mfw the disillusionment with authority sets in. I think the vibe fits when he had that little epiphany about how adults are fucked- not perfect but it gets the idea across me thinks. + I'm Gonna Win by Rob Cantor: Ties into his need to "win" aka be the best at everything, be in charge, all that jazz! Hell do whatever it takes to be successful, even if it hurts. That was a little emo + Toba the Tura by Forgive Durden ft Chris Conley: Not to be emo again but "They say you're gifted, well I just see a scared kid. They must have flipped it, your skills are latent. O, you snuffed the glow. Replaced it with coals. Threw away the throne... This mess that you've made, it's a six-foot grave. It's a home for your lonesome bones that remain. We'll disappear, but you'll stay here to rot" AND SO ON AND SO FOURTH representing his fall after it was revealed he was sick. He was referred to as "the uncrowned king" and was on top of the world but then POOF that all crumbled and it was made out that he basically deserved what happened to him. It would be fun to make a pmv of him with this song (Simplifying my thoughts a bit because Ive already written a LOT)

NEWT + I Earn My Life by Lemon Demon: Ok a little Kentcore but Im actually having a hard time coming up with songs for Newton so here we are, they can share. Newt existential crisis moment time I guess + Know How by The Crane Wives: POV Newt struggles with going through with the plans he makes to keep everyone safe (stopping Max from touching Kent, going back into the cabin, etc) "I am not brave, I am not brave, I keep my focus on what is safe, You drew a line, made up your mind, And now I'm struggling to realize" And also maybe struggling with his place in the group and as a person in general- all that living through his cousin thing. "I gotta wrap my head around, What my heart is telling me, I've been trying to drown it out, Just because I know what I am, I am supposed to do now, Doesn't mean I know, Doesn't mean I know how" + On The Outside by Oingo Boingo: Idk man. Hes on the outside lookin in!! Loner nerd!! Its ok though, we still love him

SHEL + Bad Blood by Creature Feature: The lyrics speak for themselves: "I can guarantee I will do evil things, The only way that you can stop me now, Is if you put me in the ground, Somewhere I'll never be found" + Frontier Psychologist by The Avalanches: Hinges on the fact that the principal or whoever was like "Your sons a freak" and Shels mom was like "HES PERFECTLY FINE" while Shelley was like dismembering an animal or something + Johnny by American Murder Song: The songs good but theres this ONE LYRIC that sucks so the link provided is an edited version and also a lovely Warriors oc video I think you should all enjoy and support <3 Anyway Shel would be Johnny I could see this song being a scene in the book. Field trip to Shels house and they find his murder garden

If anyone wants more for Im not opposed to making another post :^)

#SORRY THIS TOOK A BIT #I had to use my brainpower and I am very easily distracted #max kirkwood #ephraim elliot #kent jenks #newton thornton #shelley longpre #the troop #the troop nick cutter

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livesincerely · 3 years

Note

for your “lets cut to the chase series” which im in love with btw- i like n e e d more possessive davey im avsvdbdjdkld. thank you for your writing it always makes my day 🥺

Thank you!! I’m glad you’re enjoying these!! 😊💕

00000

Possessive Kiss

Jack has been trying to shake her off for the better part of an hour now. She’s pretty enough, he supposes, in the sort of detached way you recognize that a flower or painting is pretty enough, but he’d left ‘politely humoring’ and swan dived into ‘seriously irritated’ a while ago, and his patience is wearing extremely thin.

“—and my father thought it was such a wonderful idea that it was implemented immediately, and now we ship our products to fifty-seven different countries worldwide.”

Jack makes a gesture that could maybe be considered a positive acknowledgment if you tilt your head and squint real hard, but is honestly more of a grimace.

The woman—Kara, Kasey, Kaden? Jack’s not sure, but he does know that her last name is Perdue, as in Walter Perdue, as in Perdue House International because she keeps mentioning it—barely seems to pause to breathe, continuing, “I know, right? Expansion has really taken off in the last two quarters. I told him right from the start, I said ‘Daddy, we really need to consider all the ways we can make the tax code work for us, not against us—‘“

Jack grits his teeth.

Just sit here and smile, he tells himself. The gallery needs sponsors, do not piss off the annoying rich lady, just let her paw at you and talk your ears bloody for a little longer...

Then he sees him.

Davey squeezes past the throngs of partygoers, patrons, and elderly arts aficionados, gorgeous as anything in a navy suit and dark tie, and pauses, using his height to scan the crowd, clearly searching.

“—and it took a bit of persuading but of course I managed to get them to see things my way—“

Davey does a 360° turn, and mid-way through his eyes land on Jack at the bar and the unwanted companion seated beside him. His eyes flicker to Karen—taking in her expensive dress, complicated hairdo, fancy jewelry, and the hand she’s all but glued to Jack’s bicep—and makes a face.

‘Really, Jackie?’ Davey’s eyes ask.

Jack gives a little shrug. ‘You’re telling’ me, Dave.’

“—and then I said, “Well, of course we need to open new franchises in China! That’s an entire market we’re letting slip through our fingers and... Um, hello?”

“Good evening,” Davey says mildly. “May I cut in? I need to borrow my husband for a moment.”

Jack feels his eyebrows shoot up, but he quickly schools his expression. Kourtney, however, looks distinctly put out—the first change in demeanor Jack’s seen from her all night.

“Oh... yes of course,” she blusters. “I didn’t realize... I’ll just leave you to it.”

She finally pulls her hand away, though not as quickly as Jack would’ve liked her to, and slinks away to find some other schmuck to latch onto.

“So I’m your husband now?” Jack asks, curling his fingers through the loops on Davey’s dress pants and tugging him to stand between the vee of Jack’s legs. “You shoulda told me sooner, sweetheart, I woulda got ya somethin’ nice.”

“I figured that would be the best way to chase her off without causing a scene, because of course the one night I have to work late is the night some rich socialite decides she wants you to be her latest boy toy.” Davey says, arms coming up to loop loosely around Jack’s neck. “But whenever you decide you have a question to ask me.... well, you know where to find me.”

“Oh?” Jack asks, hands sliding around to sit low on Davey’s hips, just shy of indecent. “You got somethin’ you’ve been waitin’ to tell me, Jacobs?”

“It’s nothing that you don’t already know,” Davey murmurs, stepping that tiniest bit closer, his eyes achingly blue beneath the flutter of his lashes.

“Yeah? Remind me anyway,” Jack rumbles, gaze flitting helplessly between Davey’s eyes and his mouth. “I wanna hear about all the ways you want me to be yours.”

“Oh, Jackie, darling,” Davey breathes against Jack’s lips. “You’re already mine.”

Davey kisses him long and slow and deep—like he has all the time in the world to savor the feel and taste and heat of it. He finishes devouring Jack’s mouth, cradling Jack’s face in his hands as he pulls away, but he leans back in to press one more kiss to Jack’s lips before he goes—feather light and somehow even more devastating for it’s gentleness.

“Wanna get out of here?” Davey asks, all darkened eyes and low, throaty voice.

“You... just got here,” Jack says, tongue darting out to wet his lips, more than a little dazed.

Davey arches an eyebrow. “Do you want to stay?”

“Hell-fucking-no,” Jack says, jumping to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

00000

@king-of-the-tables

Tag List: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside, @corbinthecowboy

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*ask game #*ask #*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #let's cut to the chase series #oh look it’s election anxiety my old friend #I wrote this in like 90 minutes while also watching msnbc so sorry for typos #I’ll fix them I promise

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cagestark · 5 years

Note

Hi! Im not sure if you are taking prompts, but if not pls just ignore this (I LOVE YOUR STUFF ANYWAY UR GREAT ❤️❤️❤️) What about a PrisonInmate!Tony, PrisonInmate!Steve and PrisonInmate!Bucky all trying to get their hands on freshly employed Officer!Peter who was just trying to do his job. Smut? Shenanigans? Lots of good/bad/cheesy flirting? Anything would make me so happy!!!

Hope this works for what you wanted. I had a lot of fun, feel free to hop in my inbox and let me know if you’re satisfied. I tried working Steve in but :( still not very good at writing him. Bucky is a stretch for me, too. Did what I could though! Especially considering I scrapped what I had, wrote this in 10 hours, and didn’t even glance it over skskskks sorry for errors.

Warnings: some violence, smut, drugs. 7.5k. Peter is 22!

Read here on AO3!

The first time Tony meets Officer Parker, Tony is shackled at the waist and ankles to eleven other inmates from Lincoln Correctional Facility. He reaches up with bound wrists to scrub at his facial hair hoping that he isn’t as scruffy as he feels, eyeing the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed little twink who would be driving them twenty minutes to a nearby park There they would be giving restitution to society by picking up plastic soda bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms from under the dugout benches at the baseball diamond. Thinking of the millions of dollars he stole from his father’s company (plenty of which was still offshore and safe), Tony figures that a week of this and his debt will be repaid. He and society can call it even.

“He’s green,” Bucky mutters from beside him. He tracks the younger man’s pale eyes to Officer Twink. “No question about it.”

“Hey Fury,” Tony says when the black officer goes by, doing a head count. He motions with his bound hands to Parker. “I didn’t know it was bring-your-white-child-to-work-day. Are his legs long enough to reach the pedals in the van? Does he have his permit? Where did you leave his Hot Wheels battery-powered jeep? Will we all fit in the back, because—”

“Pushing your luck,” mutters Steve from Tony’s other side, goody-fucking-two-shoes that he is.

Fury stops walking, actually doubles back to stand in front of him. “You want me to drag you out of line, Stark? You can spend the rest of your day inside washing dishes. Or in solitary, if you feel like being an asshole like usual. Don’t fucking test me,” Fury says. He’s a real hard-ass. Tony likes him well enough.

Beyond them, Officer Parker is blushing to beat the band having heard Tony’s criticism of him. “I’m twenty-two,” he mutters, and Tony nearly groans. Beside him, Bucky does groan. This kid is so, so fucking green. What kind of dummy correctional officer just spills personal information in front of convicted felons?

The harder inmates are going to eat him alive.

If Tony doesn’t eat him first.

“Twenty-two huh? When’s your birthday, sweetheart?” Tony calls. “I’ll drop a postcard in the mail for you—"

He hears the slide of chrome on leather as Fury draws his baton. Tony has just enough time to be thankful it’s not his taser before it is jabbing him in the chest. With his feet and wrists shackled, he has no real way to keep himself upright. He ends up sprawled ass first in the dirt. Steve and Bucky have to adjust to avoid falling themselves and likely taking the whole line down with them.

“Did you just threaten Officer Parker, Stark?” Fury asks, bending over him.

Tony squints up against the sun. “If my heartfelt affection is threatening, then—”

“One more word and you’re spending the week on D Block.” D Block is solitary confinement, and if there is anything more painful to Tony, he doesn’t know what it is. Being alone with his thoughts, no one there to fill the silence, walls so thick he can’t even hear the shouts from other inmates around him—it’s enough to drive him to the edge. He folds.

“Parker,” Fury barks. “Give me your keys. Stark isn’t coming on the field trip.”

“How else am I going to repay society?” Tony asks, holding up his wrists so Fury can unchain him out of the line. Fury doesn’t dignify him with an answer, and it’s probably for the best. Words tend to pour out of Tony’s mouth without thought even at the best of times. And he really isn’t looking for spending the first week of Officer Parker’s employment up on D Block getting his trays through the slot in the door.

While Fury undoes the locks with practiced ease, Parker stands back practically wringing his hands. He looks distraught, downright upset to be honest. When he catches Tony looking, the kid turns red and looks away. God. Fucking adorable.

Tony glances up at Bucky who is looking straight ahead with the smuggest fucking smirk. He winks at Parker and the kid literally has to turn away, probably before he has a stroke, because Bucky is a good-looking guy. And he’s going to spend the entire week, eight hours a day picking up trash while being supervised by Officer Twink.

“You lucky bastard,” Tony says to him.

“Bucky’s probably got him bent on all fours in one of the dugout’s right now,” Tony mutters unhappily around an unlit cigarette. They aren’t supposed to smoke inside—it’s against the rules, actually, not just frowned upon—but in times of anxiety, he likes the familiarity of it between his lips. He picks up his dealt cards from the table and glances at them: a straight. Not bad.

“Should have kept your mouth shut,” Toomes says from across the table. His joy at Tony’s dismay is poorly disguised behind his own hand. “That’d be you, right now. Picking up trash in Manhattan. The highlight of your day getting your dick sucked in a dugout littered with caramel corn and old wads of chewing gum. God, how the mighty fall.”

“Could be you right now, too,” Tony offers genially. “But those domestic violence charges mean you don’t even get the chance to go on field trips, huh?”

“Not to mention,” Rhodes says from beside him, a dark-skinned man with a generally unhappy face, and serious disposition. He was one of the only people on the block that Tony genuinely trusted—that sort of trust was hard earned. They’d even exchanged addresses so they could communicate after one or the other gets processed out. “No guard would risk their job for a suck job with you, Toomes.”

“Brutal,” Tony says, holding out his hand to shake Rhodes’s. “True, but absolutely brutal.”

“Thanks,” Rhodey says dryly. “Is someone going to call, or what?”

Toomes ends up storming off, leaving his hand flat on the table. When Tony flips it over, he only had one pair. Unfortunate bastard.

“He’s going to give you problems, Tony,” Rhodey says. His dark eyes are still tracking Toomes who is sulking across the floor back to his cell, where he stands in the doorway, scanning the room. “He’s not showing you respect, and he’s not meshing well with the block. It’s going to come to a head soon.”

“Is this foreshadowing?” Tony asks lazily.

Rhodey just stares.

Tony is dozing in his cell when a large form takes up the doorway. He slits his eyes open to see Bucky there, fresh from a shower with his jumpsuit half-undone and tied around his waist. The white wifebeater he wears shows off his arms, including the gnarly scars on his left shoulder from his last tour overseas. It clings to skin that is still a little wet, and Tony licks his lips.

“Hey snowflake,” he says, voice raspy. “Come to rub it in?”

Bucky sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the concrete wall. “His name is Peter. He graduated from the academy last May. This is his first job—if you don’t count the food joint he worked at as a kid. And his birthday is August tenth.”

Tony scoffs. “What, you didn’t get his social security number too? I’m disappointed. And I don’t believe you.”

Bucky holds up a scarred hand, solemn. “Swear on my tags.”

“How the hell could you have found out so much about the kid in a handful of hours? With Fury marching around no less.”

The smile that slides over Bucky’s face is so fucking handsome. Downright sensual. “Fury didn’t come. He was just there for headcount. It was Coulson escorting us with the kid. He spent the whole time sitting in the van with the AC and radio on, chainsmoking. You’re going to shit yourself, Tony. This kid is so fucking sincere and sweet—” Bucky throws his voice into what must be a poor impression of Peter’s trembling voice. “—thanks Mister Barnes, you’ve been so friendly. I’m glad my first day was spent with you.”

“Aww fuck. Goddamnit. Son of a bitch.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re going to get your chance. He told me today was just to break him in. Tomorrow? He’s on the block. And don’t worry, I put in a good word for you. My friend Tony, I said, he’s one of the most solid guys I know. Arrogant as fuck, but a sweetheart underneath the ten different layers of ego and narcicism.”

Tony’s eyes shut. His hands come together in a prayer position over his chest. “Oh thank you, sweet Jesus.”

“Thank me,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows.

In the back of the cell is a curtain that can be drawn shut while an inmate uses the facilities. It’s where most sex happens during the daytime, when anyone is liable to walk by and glance into a cell. Tony jerks a thumb at it. “You want to see what lies behind curtain number one, Buck?”

“Sure. I’m feeling lucky.”

Showers open at dawn, and Tony is one of the first inmates there. He takes extra time soaping himself up in the lukewarm water. By the time trays are brought in, he is dressed with his hair combed. The tank top he wears is white as is required for all clothes that aren’t jumpsuits, and it looks good against his tanned skin. Tony looks fucking good for his age—which is somewhere past thirty and before fifty, thanks, don’t worry about it.

He’s halfway through a tray of biscuits and gravy with more-than-decent hash-browns when Officer Parker comes in, the door of the block screeching open. He’s escorted again by Coulson. They tend to keep senior officers with green ones, because it’s so easy for the new guys to fall prey to inmates, whether by manipulation, intimidation, or sheer manpower. Tony has seen it happen. Tony has caused it, himself. He didn’t end up as the top guy in the block by shaking hands and kissing ass.

Coulson points out things around the block: the cells (obvious), the showers, the cameras. Tony isn’t close enough to hear what’s being said, but he can imagine. Guards come in every hour during the day and every two hours at night to stroll around the block peaking into cells. Even when they aren’t a physical presence on the floor, they are always watching behind the cameras. That will be Peter’s job today: walking the floor. Every sixty minutes, he’ll walk right by Tony in his cute little dress blues. They look too clingy to be at all efficient, especially on Peter’s lithe little form, narrow hips barely able to support the holster on his waist.

Peter turns around and Tony gets a nice glimpse of his ass—God, he wants to bite it.

Bucky looks less enthusiastic today, hair pulled back into a wet bun, dark circles under his eyes. They’d slept in the same bunk last night, but when he’d awoken in the morning, Bucky had been gone. Nightmares, probably. “Now who’s the lucky bastard?” he mumbles around his fork.

Tony. Tony is the lucky bastard.

When Coulson and Peter go by, Tony calls out, face wearing a winning smile. “Good morning, officers.”

“Good morning,” Peter says sweetly. When he notices that it is Tony who spoke, his eyes double in size. Obviously, Tony has already made an impression. He plants his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, and lets his eyes rove over the green boy. Unashamed is his middle name.

“Inmate number one to watch out for, Parker,” Coulson says. But Tony thinks there’s a little affection underneath the vacant expression. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“I’m hurt, Phil,” Tony says. “Really hurt.”

“Stark is here for fraud, and he’s a master manipulator.”

“That’s better—stroke my ego, Phil. I love it. Go on.”

Coulson looks unimpressed. “Give him a wide berth.”

Peter nods obediently. His eyes trail over to Bucky and he lights up, squinting with a smile liable to outshine the sun. “Good morning Bucky! How are you?”

Coulson looks liable to have a fucking stroke. Lips twitching, Bucky salutes. “Doing great, sweet thing, how about yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” Peter says, blushing prettily.

Coulson ends up having to drag him off. Tony can’t imagine the dressing down he’s going to be receiving once they’re in private. Actually, he can, and it’s an image he cherishes. It wouldn’t hurt for the sweet kid to have some sense knocked into him by the other guards—before one of the inmates knocks it into him for them. The thought makes Tony’s fist clench around his fork. If anybody is knocking anything into Peter, it will be him. And Bucky. Preferably at the same time.

“You can hold him down,” Tony says lowly to Bucky across the table. “I’d like to see your thick arms wrapped around him. He looks like a squirmer, so sensitive. You can keep him still with nowhere to go, sitting on your cock, and I’ll suck him off. I bet he cries.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, eyes half-lidded. He makes a stabbing motion with his plastic fork. “Or I’ll end up in the bathroom at the park beating off.”

“I like the thought of that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t.”

The next time Peter comes around, he is alone. Tony, Toomes, and some of the other guys are sitting around the table playing poker.

“Afternoon gentlemen,” Peter says cordially. Tony is immediately smitten—the kid is trying so hard to be a Big Boy. It’s so fucking endearing. All Tony wants to do is drag the kid by the belt to the nearest cell and suck him off.

“Afternoon, handsome,” Tony says.

“I hope there’s no gambling going on,” Peter says, his arms cross across his chest. Jesus, his arms are skinny but fucking built, muscles straining beneath the cuffs of his shirt. There’s strength there. He’s reminded suddenly that this kid did pass the academy, so he does have some training under his belt.

“Gambling is against the rules, officer,” Tony says brightly. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, hands desperate for something to do, and tucks it between his lips. “Do we look like rule breakers to you?”

Peter shakes the hand of each man around the table. Tony would have to be blind not to see the looks he’s garnering: incredulity, attraction, calculation. Toomes looks like he’s about to cream his jumpsuit when his rough hand wraps around Peter’s soft, tiny one. The look he shoots Tony is smug.

“Do I get a handshake, Officer?” Tony asks sweetly as the kid is trying to make his escape.

He looks at Tony’s hand like it is a trap. Tony softens.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong before,” he says gently. “I just want to say, Welcome to LCF.”

Peter takes his hand. It is just as soft and smooth as it looks, but the grip is strong and firm, and Tony feels irrational pride—look at this little boy standing up to him, so fucking fearless. He makes sure to keep the handshake simple and wholesome, even though it hurts to let go. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, he agrees.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” the kid breaths and fuck. That goes right to his cock.

“You’re quite welcome,” he purrs.

The guards work 2-2-3’s, predictably. That means that Peter will have two day shifts, two days off, three night shifts, two days off, two day shifts, three days off, so on and so forth. The next two days with no Peter to look forward to and Bucky spending the 9 to 5 picking up trash are some of the dullest he’s ever had. Rhodey is the only consolation. They spend a lot of their time watching television together or playing chess.

And nights are spent with Bucky. They take turns topping, pressing each other into the mattress and muttering a litany of dirty prose in each other’s ears. Peter makes a lot of appearances in their repertoire, and some of the best orgasms Tony’s had in ages come from imagining him walking into his cell someday to find Bucky sucking off Officer Parker, or the other way around.

Sometimes, Tony has to go behind the curtain in his cell and pretend he’s taking a shit, when in reality he is jerking off to the thought. Popping a boner during poker isn’t exactly welcome.

The night shifts aren’t ideal. From 6 pm to 6 am, Peter will come in to walk the floor, shining light into cells to make sure everything is up to code. There isn’t as much time for conversation, but Tony figures he’ll be happy to spend the night awake in his buck just for the glimpses of Peter he’ll get. God, he’s fucking worked up over this kid. Mr. Stark, he called him. Jesus.

When Peter comes in at six, it is to general greeting suffused with catcalls. His face turns red as a tomato, but he smiles, looking pleased by the comradery.

“Hey doll,” Bucky says when he strolls by. Trays came in a few minutes prior, so they are eating. Salisbury steak tonight, disgusting—but the gravy isn’t half bad. Peter waves, coming over.

“Hi Mr. Barnes. Hi Mr. Stark.”

“It’s Tony, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Even Coulson calls us by our first names. You can do it too.”

“T-Tony,” Peter stutters.

“Say it again,” Tony purrs. “You need to get your practice in now.”

Bucky kicks him under the table. “You’re going to give him an aneurysm. Sorry Pete—Tony is a bit of a horn dog. He’s what the kids call thirsty.”

Peter laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Yeah, I could have guessed. Is he like this with everybody?”

Tony goes to open his mouth, but is stopped by the increased pressure on the arch of his foot by Bucky’s boot under the table. When he glances over, Bucky looks earnest, serious. He puts a scarred hand over his heart. “No sir. Swear on my service tags. You’ve got us all smitten.”

Peter melts. He bites his lip, casting Tony a shy but warm glance. “I—you guys are so nice. I better get back to—yeah—”

They both watch Peter’s ass as he walks away.

“You smooth motherfucker. I need to start taking a page out of your book,” Tony mutters. He rubs his ankle softly against Bucky’s. It’s the most affection they’re willing to give each other out on the floor. Affection is weakness here, and as the guy who runs the floor, Tony knows he has a big target on his chest. He’d rather not make it any bigger. For him, or for Bucky.

It’s nearing ten PM. Lights go out at 9:30, and while not everyone is asleep, the raucous gatherings are contained to individual cells.

Like Tony’s. He is biting his knuckles, panting as Bucky sucks him off. They’ve spent the last hour cuddling in the bunk, running their hands over each other, muttering dirty things between them. He’s been hard for the better part of that hour, and it’s only now that Bucky has shown mercy on him, tugging him up to sit on the edge of the bunk, knees spread wide. He rucks up Tony’s wifebeater over his abs and chest to rub a thumb at one of his nipples, causing his cock to jump.

“Let’s give a show, baby, huh?” Bucky whispers before swallowing him down. Tony jolts, barely managing to cut off the groan that builds up in his throat.

Bucky gives head with enthusiasm and without shame, probably because he looks so fucking hot without his inhibitions, and he knows it. Eyes closed like Tony’s cock is the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his mouth, Bucky drools and chokes himself, sometimes pressing Tony’s cock up so that he can mouth at the older man’s balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time.

Tony holds off his orgasm for as long as he can. He loves this, loves how aroused Bucky gets from sucking cock, whining around it, one hand reaching between his own legs to jerk himself off.

Then comes the light. It blinds Tony whose eyes are accustomed to the darkness. He gasps, jerking backwards in horror at being caught, but Bucky’s hands grab his hips and wrench him forwards, taking him deeper.

There comes a gasp, high and effeminate.

Peter.

The flashlight fumbles and clicks off, but Tony doesn’t hear the footsteps move away. His eyes readjust to the darkness, and he sees Peter’s form standing in the doorway, one hand up to press against his mouth.

Bucky chokes himself, swallowing around the head of Tony’s cock, and something about being watched—being watched by Peter—has Tony gasping, fisting Bucky’s long hair and fucking into his throat as he cums. He barely manages to keep his eyes open through the pleasure, because now he can just make out the dim form of features on Peter’s face, eyes half-closed, and knuckles clutched between his teeth.

He likes what he sees.

“Jesus, baby,” Tony whispers, stroking Bucky’s hair. The man stands up, pants slung to his ankles, fisting his naked cock furiously. The low cots mean that when he cums with a groan, he stripes Tony’s chest with it, and he loves it, fucking loves marking and being marked by Bucky. “You wanted to give Peter a show, huh?”

The sound Peter makes is tortured. He turns and nearly sprints away, perfunctorily walking down the rest of the cells, glancing in to make sure no one is smoking or hoarding blankets or any other thing.

They sit side by side on the bunk, panting.

“All part of the plan, handsome,” Bucky mutters, pressing a tender kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“Petey came to my cell last night,” Toomes says the next day. The guard on duty is in Tony’s palm, so Tony smokes unabashedly and without fear of repercussions, flicking his ash in a neat pile next to him, because littering isn’t cool.

He isn’t sure what his facial expression says, but he hopes its as stony and unbelieving as he feels. “Good for you, Toomes. Did you finally get that suck job you wanted?”

The other man scoffs, waving away Tony’s accusations. “He’s too skittish for that. But he saw me reading. Frankenstein. Did you know he’s a big reader, Tony?”

Tony didn’t know. He tries not to let it show how rankled it makes him, that there is any part of Peter that this vulture has picked off before Tony or Bucky.

“Maybe you can start a book club,” Tony suggests.

Beside him, Rhodey snorts into his cards.

“He’s full of shit, Tony. You know that,” Bucky soothes. He’s sitting on Tony’s cot, freshly showered, watching Tony pace, cigarette clutched between his lips. The younger man is getting a tan from his time spent out in the sun picking up trash. For a fair skinned, fair eyed man, he tans surprisingly well. Tony certainly appreciates the aesthetic.

“He’s not. Not about this, at least,” Tony mutters. “Peter waved to him tonight at dinner when you were getting your tray. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at Toomes with a pleasant expression. I can’t unsee it.”

“You poor thing,” Bucky says, sounding not at all sympathetic. “Look, the kid’s worked here for three days. This is his fourth fucking shift. Seduction takes time. You always do this—if something you want doesn’t fall into your lap right away, you get mopey. Where’s the Tony you always talk about, the one who had patience, who worked hard to reap rewards?”

“Worked real hard to reap my dad’s money, you’ve got that right,” Tony mutters. “You suck at pep talks, snowflake.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Then how about I just console you?”

Tony takes the cigarette from his mouth and points it at him. “Now you’re talking.”

It’s nearing two in the morning. Peter has been by a handful of times, face red when he glances into their cell. Bucky and Tony jerked each other off hours ago—shame he missed it—and have spent the rest of the evening sitting on the cot talking. Bucky does push-ups. Tony admires the view.

“I’m out of smokes,” Bucky says. He means pot—Tony doesn’t partake, but on night when Bucky does, sleeps easier and wakes more rested. “I need more papers.”

“I got ‘em baby.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony can get anything into prison. It’s about greasing the guards—and he makes sure to know which ones squeak and which ones don’t. Then he keeps them well, well lubricated. Whenever someone needs something (matches, drugs, porn, other contraband), Tony is the guy who gets it. But he’s not dumb enough to be the guy who keeps it. That’s on the straw men Tony keeps around the block. One houses the rolling papers. Another has the pot. There’s a cellphone in the cell beside Tony. And if there are shakedowns with guards Tony doesn’t have under his thumb, those men agree to take the fall, and Tony agrees to make it up to them.

It’s late and dark, most people actually asleep now. Tony feels his way down to the cells to the guy who’s housing the papers for joints. The guy snores to wake the dead, but Tony doesn’t care, letting himself in and going to the designated location.

It’s on his way back that he hears the noise.

Voices.

He’d ignore them—some guys will stay up all night talking—but one of those voices is too high.

It’s panicked, too.

Breathing heavier, he takes care to muffle his steps. He isn’t wearing shoes, and that makes him vulnerable in a fight, but he’s held his own in worse situations. The element of surprise will be instrumental in coming out on top—if he needs to. Keeping his breaths quiet, he follows the sounds to the showers, empty but still smelling damp and faintly of soap.

It’s definitely Peter’s voice.

There are windows here that let in the moonlight. Tony stands in the shadow of the doorway, watching and listening.

“Come on, Adrian, quit—”

“You come on, Petey. I’ll make it good for you. It’s got to be tough, being around all the men on the block, being flirted with all the time. Gets a kid hot and bothered I bet, huh? You’re a hot little thing. I saw the way you looked at me last night. I’m here for you, honey. You can use me—”

“I don’t want to. I could lose my job.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, Pete, I swear.”

Peter is pressed against the tiled wall between two showerheads. Adrian is pinning him there with his body, and the size difference is drastic. Peter is so fucking tiny and frail looking, eyes huge and frightened, hands clenching and unclenching even though he has a fucking weapon, come on Pete, pull your baton, your taser, your fucking gun—

Adrian’s hand drifts from where it’s caressing Peter’s jaw. It presses against his chest, fingering the buttons down Peter’s dress blues, and then palms the young man’s cock.

Tony sees red. He wishes he had the shiv he keeps hidden on the floor, but there’s no time to search for it in the dark, and he can make do without it anyway. Get Adrian down and then pull Peter’s baton, beat Toomes again and again and again until the man eats his meals through a straw or not at all.

“I said no, Toomes.” Peter grabs the man’s wrist and twists it expertly. With a strength Tony didn’t know could be contained in such a tiny form, he switches their positions to press Toomes’s face into the wall, grinding it against the tiles. The man struggles but Peter is holding strong, lithe little muscles bulging as he kicks the man’s legs apart so he can’t get proper leverage to push him away. Then he grabs his cuffs, and in a heartbeat, the larger man is subdued. “I tried to be nice, didn’t I? No means no, asshole.”

He wrenches Toomes away from the wall and they both turn to see Tony standing there. They all look at each other, mouths open. Then Tony lifts his hands and brings them together softly, a standing ovation.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little hard right now.”

Peter scowls. “Not now, Tony. Go press the button to let the other guards know I need help.”

“No can do, sweet thing. But it looks like you’ve got it covered for yourself.”

Peter does, frog marching Toomes across the floor and out of the Block. Tony watches it all with an incredulous expression. And a chub. Even after they’re gone, he stands on the quiet, dark floor, pondering what he’s seen. When Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, Tony nearly jumps out of his own skin.

“What happened?” he asks. “Was that Peter I heard?”

“Oh Buck. You won’t believe this yarn I’m going to spin you.”

Toomes doesn’t return to the block. More than likely, he is shifted to another block with more violent offenders. They tend to group inmates based on the charges against them and their charge history. Tony wonders what exactly he’ll be charged with now. Attempted assault of a police officer? It sounds delicious. Whatever the punishment, it will be too good for him.

Bucky is torn up. Coming home from war has left him sensitive to certain aggressions, and he often feels things too keenly. Takes things too personally. “No means no,” he says, voice thick, faced press into Tony’s neck as he holds him. “Why don’t people listen? No means no.”

“We know that. They know that too. They just don’t care, baby. We’ll see Pete tomorrow and find out how he’s doing.”

Bucky lifts his head. His eyes are cloudy and distant “Tell me again how he roughed up Toomes.”

“With pleasure,” Tony purrs. “He’s so goddamn petite, but his hiding some serious muscles under that uniform. God, it had me worked up, the way he knocked Toomes’s legs apart. The snap of the cuffs. When we get out of here, snowflake, we need to invest in a pair of those.”

Bucky snorts, but he looks pleased.

Part of Tony worried that Peter wouldn’t come in for his shift. He wouldn’t blame the kid; he’d almost been assaulted on the job. The guards had it tough. If it wasn’t sexual harassment, it was physical intimidation—the latter of which Tony himself had been guilty of. But he shouldn’t have underestimated their boy.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Peter says shyly. He’s got his hands on his narrow hips, but Tony knows that those fingers are long enough to wrap all the way around a man’s wrist, wrenching it back.

“How are you?” Bucky asks when Peter comes by.

Peter smiles, soft and gentle. “I’m okay, Bucky. How are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve seen your handsome face.”

Peter blushes, so susceptible to Bucky’s lines. Then he turns his eyes to Tony, and they grow colder. He barely nods recognition before strutting away. Tony can’t even appreciate the way the tight pants hug his ass, because he’s too busy with his mouth agape, jerking a thumb at the boy’s back and asking Bucky, “What did I do?”

That night they are waiting up for Peter the first time he makes his rounds. They decide to sit on the floor so as to be as non-threatening as possible (Peter went through a fucking ordeal yesterday, and they aren’t looking to add to his stress), Tony with his back against the edge of the cot and Bucky propped up against the wall, one foot flat on the floor and the other tickling Tony’s thighs. Yes, the bunks are that small.

As soon as Peter’s light shines in, Bucky calls for him gently.

Carefully, he steps into the room, shining the light towards the ceiling to cast a glow over all of them. His face is somber, but he smiles.

“Hey Bucky. What do you need?”

Bucky doesn’t beat around the bush. “We want to know if you’re really okay. Tony told me about Toomes. That guy’s a fucking piece of work. Hope some guys up on B Block crack his skull in—won’t be no skin off society’s nose.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not a good way to talk. That’s not justice. I’m doing fine—Toomes wasn’t hard to subdue.”

“You handled him like a pro,” Tony adds.

Peter’s look frosts over. “Like a police officer, yes. No thanks to you.”

Tony groans. “Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I wouldn’t go press the button for you, baby?”

“Don’t call me that. And yes. I thought we were—” Peter doesn’t finish. He blushes, obviously knowing how silly that sentence sounds: a CO being friends with an inmate. But it cuts Tony all the same, and Bucky’s look across the room is murderous.

“You didn’t try to get help? What the fuck, Tony.” His foot lashes out and catches Tony in the shin, and fuck that stings!

“I’m not a snitch,” Tony snaps.

“Look, I’ll leave you both to this—”

“I was going to handle it if Peter couldn’t—I was going to kill that son of a bitch. That’s how things work in here, you know that Bucky. This isn’t the military. There’s no honor or morals. There’s just rules, and the number one rule is no snitching. If there’s a problem, we handle it this way.”

Peter swallows. “Tony—you can’t just say that. I can’t—I’ve got to tell somebody that you said that, I think.”

“This place doesn’t have honor, but we do,” Bucky growls. “Or at least, I thought you did.”

“You know I’d have killed for him,” Tony says through his teeth. “Just like how I’d kill for you—”

“Would you fucking stop it?” Peter hisses. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over them to hear him curse. His grip has gone white on his flashlight he’s so tense, lips pressed into a thin, furious line. “Why are you two doing this? Is it—is this just to, to fuck with me? I don’t get it, I—”

All the anger seeps out of him. He looks lost, tortured. Both of the angry men in front of him soften. What is it about this boy that melts them like wax under flame? Bucky shuffles up onto his knees, looking with his long hair like some knight from an old medieval story, begging for forgiveness of his fair lady.

“Pete, we didn’t mean to come on so strong. Please—will you sit for a bit?”

Peter glances back at the floor. It is dark and mostly quiet, some laughter coming from a cell further down the line. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “I need to do my job.”

“We won’t keep you here, if you want to leave. We aren’t like Toomes. But if you’re willing, we’d like to talk. Work this out.”

Looking torn, Peter sits. Tony and Bucky flank him, but the boy doesn’t look threatened in the slightest, just hunches himself over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Go ahead and talk,” he says.

“Bucky and I are together.”

Peter snorts. “I got that when I saw him sucking you off.”

Tony blinks. “Oh. Well that happens in here every now and again—some men will do anything in here for company, even if they don’t really swing that way on the outside. But Bucky and I—we’re pretty in love.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “He’s dumb. But I love him.”

Peter laughs a little. “Okay. Yeah. So you two are together.”

“We’re polyamorous,” Tony admits. “That means we have a lot of love to give and aren’t unopposed to giving it to multiple people at once. Bucky here, he’s got a boyfriend down the line, Steve—you know Steve?”

“I know Mr. Rogers. He seems nice.”

“He’s real nice,” Bucky smirks. “Our point here is that up until now, we’ve had passing flings with other people, but we’ve never shared anyone. We’ve never wanted to share anyone—until you. And now it’s like our stupidity has squared itself, because we both are falling over ourselves to try to attract you.”

He’s glad he’s letting Bucky take the lead. Tony might have a way with words, but Bucky absolutely has tact and softness that Tony can’t muster up in his wildest dreams. Peter is sitting between them looking red-faced but thoughtful. “So, what? You guys both want to date me?”

“We can’t exactly set up a table with a cloth and wine and dine you, princess,” Tony says. He tries to stay soft and honest, because his mother always used to say that honesty is the best policy. Peter looks like the kind of kid who would appreciate that. “As unfortunate as that is. I’ve got five months left on my sentence, and Bucky has almost double that. And as—what is it Bucky? Thirsty?—as thirsty as we both are, we understand that you wouldn’t want to put your job in jeopardy.”

Peter looks relieved by their admission. “I don’t really know how I feel, to be honest. You’re both—wow, you’re both really hot. Duh. But I don’t know you. Maybe I could get to know you? A little at a time? And once you’re out Tony, if I’m not seeing anyone, we could go out? There’s…” Peter swallows. “There’s definitely chemistry here.”

“Yeah, kid, I feel that,” Tony says.

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Bucky emphasizes, shooting Tony a look overhead that says keep it in your pants. They’ve been seeing each other in here long enough to have reached the telepathic portion of their relationship, thanks. “You’re already promising more than we could have hoped for. And we really appreciate you sitting down and talking things out with us. That’s never easy, doll.”

The younger man blushes prettily, shrugging. He stands. “I really should get back to work.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you need to do,” Tony agrees. He shifts, hard in his sweatpants, the proximity to his lover and his maybe, possibly, someday lover has sweat beading at the nape of his neck and his imagination running wild. Peter’s eyes track his movements and then fall to his lap.

He licks his lips.

Honest to god.

“I—wait for me. Just—” Peter disappears, flashlight bobbing as he continues down the line. They can hear him popping his head in to a cell further down and telling the guys to please be respectful of the other inmates, thanks!

“Buck,” Tony groans. They smash together with no finesse, both of them stressed and horny from their confrontation with Peter. They taste like mint toothpaste they used before lights out, and Tony licks into the younger man’s mouth unabashedly, sucking on his tongue, licking at his teeth. “God, I need you,” he whispers.

“Take me,” Bucky urges. “Come on, baby. Take me.”

They shed clothes like they’re on fire. Tony folds Bucky’s legs up—for a large guy, he’s surprisingly nimble—and lowers his mouth to Bucky’s ass, licking a hot stripe over his hole and to his balls. He hears the hiss above him, the groan muffled by a fist in his mouth. Not for the first time, Tony hates prison. He hates that they have to be quiet, that they can’t let themselves go and love each other properly, just hushed romps like this in the middle of the night.

“What do you think he meant?” Bucky pants, fingers clenching on Tony’s hair. “Wait for me?”

There is a whispered groan from the doorway. They both turn to see Peter there, leaning against the bars, eyes heavy. “I meant wait, but I get it. God, I get it. You’re both so, wow, god.”

“He’s eloquent,” Tony says. They shift on instinct, turning so as to give Peter a better view. He turns off his flashlight and it takes time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Peter stands with his back to the wall, hands clasped behind his back like he’s in handcuffs.

“I can’t—I can’t do anything,” Peter pants. “But I could watch. If you wanted me to.”

“Do you want to?” Bucky asks.

“God yes,” Peter breaths, voice high. One hand palms at his crotch. His uniform has him blending in to the darkness, but they can guess what he’s doing, and fuck that turns Tony on, like there’s fire in his blood. He goes back to eating Bucky’s ass, pressing a thumb against the rim to hold him open so he can slip his tongue inside.

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky says. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, come on.”

Tony is in full agreement. It’s too much; they’re all too worked up. The sounds from Bucky, the sounds from Peter, the taste of his lover in his mouth—his cock feels fit to burst as he pulls it from his sweats. He doesn’t dare pump it for fear of blowing his load right away. God this isn’t going to be the best performance to share with their new love, but he hopes that Peter can forgive him if he comes off as a three-pump-chump.

He presses in slow. Bucky is still soft and pliant from their fucking the night before, and there’s no discomfort on his lover’s face even when he bottoms out. Bucky’s legs wrap around him and he urges Tony forward with his heels and voice: “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Give it to me. Put on a show.”

Tony knows just how Bucky likes it. There’s no holding back, just the brutal thrusting of his hips that has Bucky giving off choked noises, one hand pressed firmly over his mouth and the other scrabbling at the sheet on the cot. It only takes a moment for Tony to glance over and see Peter, hand flashing in the darkness as he jerks his own cock through his dress blues, and Tony is mounting the crest, balls contracting, stomach tensing.

Bucky blows first, untouched. Tony barely gets a fist around him when he realizes what’s happening, pumping furiously to help his lover through it. Then he is there himself, grip maybe too tight around Bucky’s cock, hips snapping desperately while he blows his load. It feels like it lasts forever. Was over so, so quick.

Even when they’re done, panting, sandwiched together, they hear Peter: breathy little whines from across the room. He stops jerking himself off when they stop lazily and lovingly grinding their hips together, but it’s obvious by the unconscious swaying of his hips that he didn’t cum.

“Take care of him,” Bucky mutters, pressing a kiss to Tony’s sweaty temple. “Get on your knees for him.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps. His cock slips free of Bucky, still tingling pleasantly. He walks on his knees the few feet it takes to be at Peter’s feet, staring up at his tortured expression.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps. “I can’t do anything. That’d be wrong—”

“Then don’t do anything, Officer,” Tony purrs. He reaches a hand up and rubs at Peter’s cock. The kid keens softly, thrusting his hips out even as he grips uselessly at the wall. He’s desperate for relief, desperate to get away. Tony bats his eyes, though no one can see in the dark. “Let me do the work, sir. Please?”

Peter swallows hard. He nods frantically, and that’s all Tony needs to undo Peter’s belt, wrench down his dress slacks and boxers. He doesn’t even get a good look at the kid’s cock, just swallows him down. It’s a nice mouthful, and he has to work to get the last inch or so, taking the head just into his throat. “I’m—I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter gasps.

Tony swallows.

Peter cums. Tony barely manages to pull back, desperate to taste him on his tongue. One hand comes up to work at Peter’s twitching cock, the other cradling his balls to help prolong his pleasure. The kid sounds like he’s never cum before in his life, hands gripping at the concrete wall, giving tiny aborted thrusts, mouth open and panting.

“Thank you, Officer,” Tony says, voice a little distorted from deep-throating. Peter slumps down the wall, knees shaking, until they’re kneeling across from each other. Tony can’t help it, he laughs a little. “You didn’t need to be worried about hurting me, baby. That wasn’t my first blowjob.”

It’s Peter’s turn to chuckle. “I did have good reason to be worried.” He cuts himself off, like there was more he was going to say, but stopped himself.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks. He’s lounging on the bed, watching them with lazy, sated eyes. He’s so fucking handsome, Tony crawls across the floor to kiss him and press the last of Peter’s cum into his mouth. The other man moans appreciatively.

“It’s kind of a crazy story,” Peter admits.

“We know a thing or two about crazy,” Tony says. “Try us.”

Peter’s clenches his hands together tightly. “It’s weird, actually. It has to do with a spider.”

Bucky and Tony share a glance, equal parts confused and amused. Tony settles in, leaning his head to rest on the cot beside Bucky. “Go on then,” he says. “We’re listening.”

Tag list: @crown-filth

#winterironspider #starker #winteriron #prison #drugs #violence #cagewrites

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turtle-steverogers · 4 years

Text

Not Guilty- 2

murder mystery’s back! im having too much fun with this story guys

Link to chap 1 in case you need it

warnings: albert being a human disaster, abuse of the word ‘milk’

ship: ralbert, platonic spalbert

word count: 1680

editing: lmaoooo no

Chap 2

When Albert gets to the precinct the next morning, he’s wary to find a wrapped parcel on his desk that looks suspiciously like a sandwich. He pokes at it, frowning when he sees a singular smiley face drawn on the underside in black sharpie.

“Hey, uh, Spot?” He calls, looking up when he hears his partner’s chair roll out from his desk and subsequently poke his head around the low wooden wall that separates their cubicles.

“Yes, honeycakes?” Spot’s expression is the face of innocence and Albert’s stomach churns.

“Did you-” He stumbles, gesturing to the presumed sandwich, “Is this for me?”

“It’s on your desk, isn’t it?” Spot smiles, rolling back into his cubicle.

Albert sighs, taking off his messenger bag and jacket and sitting heavily in his desk chair. He cautiously unwraps the white paper to find a loaded meatball sub sitting in the middle of a napkin. There’s a sticky note placed delicately on the fluffy white bread and Albert plucks it up, squinting at the words:

Sorry you didn’t finish your sandwich xoxo Spottie

He laughs probably too loud and sticks the sticky note on his desktop, right next to the note from Jack that reads: ‘I’m sorry for stealing your pants, I had brains on mine’ after Jack had taken his extra pair of slacks from his locker when his got spoiled at a crime scene.

He takes a bite of the sandwich, pleased to find that he can still stomach his favorite Gianno’s special after yesterday’s events. As he chews, careful not to get any tomato sauce on his shirt, he plucks a sticky note from his own pad and scrawls out: Thanks, Pop Spotcket. Love u, dear xoxo and tosses it over to Spot.

A moment later, Spot snorts indignantly, “‘Pop Spotcket’? Really? Does anyone actually use those anymore? The only person I know who has one is my niece and she’s eleven.”

Albert rolls his chair so he’s in Spot’s cubicle, sandwich still in hand, “I have one, asshole. They’re useful. Anyway, thanks for the sandwich. How’s it looking at Gianno’s?”

Spot sighs wearily, placing a stack of papers down and turning from his computer to look at Albert, “Eh. They’re closed today. I stopped by this morning to pick up some evidence left at the crime scene and one of the waiters asked if I wanted anything and I remembered that you didn’t get to finish your lunch yesterday so…”

“Thanks, man,” Albert says, mouth full. Spot wrinkles his nose and tells him not to speak with food in his mouth. Albert rolls his eyes, “Anyway, evidence? What’s new?”

“Nothing really,” Spot says, “Just Wiesel’s receipt from his last meal. Wasn’t really much on it, but it gave us a sure timestamp that lines up with our original record, so at least that’s set.”

“Good,” Albert shoves the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, licking his fingers.

“Yeah. Saw our boy there, though.”

Albert raises his eyebrows, “Higgins?”

“Mhm.”

“How’s he?”

Spot shrugs, “Didn’t talk to him. Kid looked like shit. Well, more shitty than yesterday if that’s somehow possible. Kept sending cute little glares my way, fucking ray of sunshine, that one.”

“Christ,” Albert grimaces, “I’m convinced he’s a player in this debacle somehow. I mean, he seemed genuinely surprised when he found out the vic was Wiesel, but too many strings lead to connections on his end.”

“Yeah,” Spot agrees, “I dunno, I say we dig a little into Wiesel’s other relations as well. I feel like there’s a gap here somewhere.”

“Toxicology came back,” Albert says after a pause.

Spot looks at him, eyebrows raised, “And?”

“Sarin poison in the blood. Stab wounds were post-mortem. Someone wanted this shit to look messier than it is.”

“Interesting. I wonder who’d go through the trouble of poisoning, then following up with a physical attack. ‘Specially in a public place. S’kinda risky.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but whoever it was, clearly knew what they were doing.”

“Clearly…”

XXX

Albert never understood why there was such a wide variety of milks in the world. And why, in this moment, he can’t find any simple fucking 2%.

He scans over the selection again, bypassing the almond and oat milks and skimming over the fritzy lactose free shit. There’s strawberry milk and chocolate milk on display and even horrifyingly enough, mint milk, but no fucking 2%. It’s not even like this fucking bodega is big enough to warrant having so many milks.

He just wants some damn normal person milk!

“Excuse me, detective.”

Albert doesn’t startle. He doesn’t. He’s a trained law enforcement officer and detective. People like him don’t fucking startle. But, he is on high, professional alert when he turns around to see Antonio Fucking Higgins standing behind him, eyebrows raised in what’s probably amusement and hands shoved in his pockets.

Albert makes a strangled noise, eyes working on their own accord as they trail down Higgins’ body. He’s sweaty, looking like he just came from some sort of workout, and a pair of tight adidas running pants hug his legs in all the right places. He’s in a tank top today, somehow doing his arms more justice than the grey shirt he’d been wearing yesterday. A hat sits backwards on his head, doing little to tame the curls that are trying to sneak out of the stupid hole where the strap meets the fabric. He looks hot and it’s unfair and Albert’s never been ashamed of his sexuality, but right now he’s wishing that he could reign in his gay ass a little bit because aside from the fact that Higgins is a bit of a prick, he’s also a suspect and that’s, like, number one in the Book of Nope for cops of any kind.

Higgins is still looking at him, but now there’s a small crease of concern between his eyebrows, “You alright, man?” He asks, “You look kinda like you’re having a heart attack. Do you have any chest pain? Your left arm feel numb at all?”

Albert shakes himself, morphing his expression into something he hopes looks less like Gay Panic, “Yeah, sorry, I-” He splutters a bit, then shuts his mouth with a click.

Higgins scoffs, “I just need milk, man, you mind?”

Albert starts, hastily stepping out from where he was definitely blocking the milk selection and watching as Race grabs a carton of-- fucking 2%. How did he find it so fast? How did Albert not see it? He’s supposed to be the one trained to look for details others don’t see!

Trying not to flush, Albert reaches out and grabs a carton as well and Higgins looks at him again, laughing, “You were standing here for a long time, dude, I thought you were gonna murder the milk for a second.”

“Couldn’t find the 2%.” Albert mumbles, blushing harder when Higgins laughs louder.

“Real good reconnaissance there, detective.”

When Higgins is laughing, his face changes into something a whole lot more pleasant. Not that it was ever unpleasant (the dude’s got a jawline of a god), but some of the hardness in his eyes and shadows on his face go away and for just a second, he looks like the 25 year old he’s supposed to be. It’s nice, Albert thinks, ignoring the way alarm bells are going off in his head.

“Shut up, Higgins, I’m tired. Some of us have to read about murders all day, so excuse me if my milk finding skills aren’t the most refined.”

Higgins’ face softens and the smile in his eyes turns into something else that Albert doesn’t want to dissect, “Race.”

“What?”

“Higgins is my dad, not me. And I don’t like the name Antonio very much, so if we’re gonna be talking more, be it over murder or milk, call me Race.”

“Race?”

Higgins--Race--winks, “That’s a story for level five amici.”

“Oh, okay.”

They pause for a moment and even though Albert’s not drunk, his inhibitions seem to flutter away from him against his will as he blurts out, “Drinks sometime? Would- uh- would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

And fuck-fuck- SHIT- what are you doing Dasilva? What the fuck?

Race considers him for a moment, “Not that I wouldn’t hit that,” he nods to Albert’s body and Albert flushes. Damnit with the flushing! He’s 26, not some flouncy high schooler, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea, detective.”

Albert nods, “No, yeah, honestly I don’t know why I asked- uh-”

“Relax, don’t have an aneurysm, it’s okay. I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

“No no, you’re right. Absolutely.”

There’s another pause, then Race smiles apologetically, “I gotta go get the rest of my groceries. Take care.”

Albert cringes internally at how fucking painfully awkward this exchange has been, “You too,” he says, watching Race retreat to the wine aisle. He takes another moment to gather himself, then goes to the checkout line.

XXX

Albert turns up the volume on his TV, pleased with the quiet solitude of his apartment for the night. He doesn’t love living alone, but it’s been a long couple days and he’s been looking forward to a night to himself since he’d woken up that morning. Just him, some thai, and the Animal Planet playing reruns of ‘It’s Me or the Dog’ all night. Fucking self care.

He’s just yelling at some dog owner on the TV for feeding his pug 24 eggs a day and watching as Victoria Stilwell chews out the greasy fucker when his phone rings on the coffee table in front of him.

Groaning, Albert mutes the show and chugs down a few sips of beer, before picking up the phone and answering with an annoyed, “Someone better be dying.”

There’s silence on the other end and Albert pulls the phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. It’s Spot. Shit, someone might actually be dying.”

“Spot? Everything okay?”

Spot sounds sheepish when he says, “Well no one’s dying, technically…”

“But…”

“There was another murder.”

“Shit.”

Race went straight home after the bodega, right? RIGHT!??!? stay tuned ;)

thanks saph for ‘pop spotcket’

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @getchapapes @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

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@1-800-santa-fe

#newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #hehehe #murder boys #and #detective boys

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vaingloriosa · 5 years

Text

Fur Better or Fur Worse

RK900/Nines x Reader

Words: 1.5k

Summary: The unexpected pregnancy of your cat, Gemma, brings out an unexpected friendship with your hot neighbor.

Author’s note: < REBLOG to ZYPE > HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRYAN DECHART! if it weren’t for the chat, i would’ve never known this man's birthday...now my life knows no peace. man, y’all, i cannot believe i am still around these neck of the woods...after ALL THIS TIME. here’s to bryan choosing not to cosplay nines because he’d be so damn powerful that it’d be game over for me and my [redacted]. enjoy the early upload!!

“Oh, Gemma, what have you gotten yourself into?”

You first noticed the bump on accident as you were preparing your orange tabby’s food. Gemma had become impatient at your slow pace when she stood up on her hind legs to claw at your thigh. You narrowed your eyes when you examined her closely. You always attributed her general plumpness to just her living her life deliciously but then you realize that you had gotten it all wrong.

Gemma is pregnant.

How could this be? You always kept the tabby indoors where she wouldn’t get into risky behavior and get herself hurt. You prided yourself in being the best cat parent, always keeping an eye on her whenever she was within your eyesight. However, you couldn’t always track her movements and you never trusted home security devices ever since they were introduced.

Then you remember the unbearable heat weave the swept across Detroit in mid-August. You couldn’t help but crack the window just a few inches...

Oh, gosh, Gemma must’ve escaped through the window of opportunity to explore the outside world. Now, you watch your cat give birth to her first litter of kittens inside your cramped closet. You close your eyes as you hear the small movement coming from within the box you had prepared beforehand for Gemma. You didn’t know how you would be able to take care of kittens with your new job that demanded more of your undivided attention and time. Taking care of Gemma was one thing but kittens required supervision, special care that was vastly different than an adult cat, and you weren’t sure if you can do this alone.

You move your head to face the new mother licking one of her kittens.

“Hold on a second,” you say underneath your breath and inch closer towards the cardboard box. While Gemma mindlessly tends to the kitten, you squint your eyes at your revelation.

“Gemmy, you little bastard, tell me you did not fuck the hot neighbor’s cat.”

Her soft little meow followed by her eyes closing a tiny bit gave you all the answers that you needed.

The kittens fur, although not fully set yet, were a shade of orange and gray with some kittens having orange paws. They all had gray tortoiseshell fur from head to toe. You rise from your crouched position to look over at your window. From the outside you can see the house lights at your neighbor’s and suddenly you feel like you’re in “The Great Gatsby” looking off into the light of the East Egg. Even from the distance you can make out the silhouette of the Russian Blue father.

You bite the bottom of your lip in contemplation.

Nines was more of an anomaly, a concept, rather than an actual real person. He felt like a ghost of sorts, always working odd hours down at the Detroit Police Department downtown. In your initial meeting, you found out that he’s an android after your housewarming gift of a pie was for nothing. However, Nines was thankful and even kept the damn thing. After that, you two never talked to each other but that didn’t stop you from coming up with silly daydreams that involved a lot of domesticity bliss and then some...

You were kind of dreading bringing this subject up.

A week goes by and you’re about nearly had it up to here with the kittens’ constant crying while you’re trying to fall asleep. Your work as a pharmacist had you constantly on your feet and all you wanted to do when you got home was relax. To be deprived of what little free time you had to tend to these kittens was overwhelming. Gemma was only one cat mother so it had to be all hands on deck to help her out.

As you plop your ass on the hardwood floors, you knew enough was enough. You’ve noticed the soft glow coming from Nines’ house beforehand and you had to seize the moment. You gather up the cardboard box with both Gemma and her kittens with your intent to march up to Nines’ door and demand some sort of child support. Cat food, kitten formula, hell, you would even settle for back massage at this point. All you needed was some peace of mind and to sleep for a one solid fucking hour.

The moment the door opens, the box of cats suddenly becomes heavy in your arms and your skin begins to form goose flesh all over. Those are some very gray eyes.

Nines tilts his head and says your name. “Are you aware of the time?”

You blink frantically, whooshing away those romantic thoughts and remembering why the hell you came here anyways. Gemma lets out a small meow and Nines looks down at the cardboard box.

“Thanks for answering your door at such a weird hour. I, um, I think your cat might have gotten my cat pregnant? And by the looks of her kittens, your cat is the only viable option.”

Nines draws closer to the box and reaches inside to pick up one of the kittens. He gazes into Gemma’s eyes, his own slight hooded, and pitches his voice up a few octaves. “Do you mind?”

Gemma answers him with another meow and exposes her belly towards him. Nines nods his head, a small smile forming at his lips, then secures the tiny kitten in the palm of his hand. The glow from the lights inside illuminates the gray and orange mewling kitten and you did not how you were keeping your cool; feeling an urge to place the box down and asking if you could kiss him after watching his soft behavior with your Gemma. Suddenly, a familiar gray cat appears at the door frame and brushes up against Nines’ leg.

“Oh my gosh!” you screech out in your tender animal voice. You can’t help but smile when you see the Russian Blue in the flesh for the first time. You gently place the box down on the porch and kneel down to get a better look. However, the gray cat did not want nothing to do with you because once his eyes lock onto Gemma, he immediately brushes past you and into the cardboard box with your cat. You watch the cat nuzzle his head against hers, licking her head as a gentle hello. Your heart melts at watching your cat receiving affection that you always yearned for.

Nines kneels down to place the kitten from his hands back with their mother. You two watch in fascination at the interaction between both of your cats. You reach over to pet the Russian Blue and for a second you thought it may be a bad idea but the moment your hand reaches his fur, he accepts you.

“His name is Apollo.”

“Her name is Gemma.”

You let out a snort as you witness Nines reaching over to pet your cat. She leans into his touch and you never wanted to be a cat more than right now. You take a seat on the porch and draw your legs closer to you.

“So, you think Apollo is the father?” It’s more of a rhetorical question than anything and you hear Nines’ let out a soft laugh under his breath. He takes a seat in front of the box and places his hands in his lap. You two watch in silence as Apollo begins to wash one of the kittens with his tongue and settles into the other corner of the fairly large box. You wish you could enjoy the peaceful moment until a pain shoots up through your neck from your spine. You wince at the sudden pain, rubbing the back of your neck and closing your eyes.

“Are you alright?” Nines asks, his voice conveying concern for your well-being. You hadn’t have someone ask if you were okay in a long time and you almost become shocked at the question.

“Just peachy,” you sigh out, “Well, actually, no, not really. With my work at the pharmacy, it always seems like I close then a few hours I have to open. I thought I could be a good cat parent and balance the two but...I didn’t think kittens could be this hard.”

Nines’ shifts his position to give you his full attention. You look up from the box to watch him closely.

“I would like to help you in any way possible.”

Your jaw nearly drops at his proposition. You must have made a face when he speaks up again. “I want to be there for you and Gemma.”

You place your hand over your heart and nod your head in near disbelief. You let out a tiny laugh then look back at Nines.

“So you want to raise a cat family with me?”

The corner of Nines’ mouth forms a small smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

You two work around your busy lifestyle. On days you know you will have to wake up early, Nines comes over to pick up Gemma and the kittens so you can have some quietness for once. Sometimes when Nines would text you about staying late at work, you would let yourself into his house to take his cat with you to stay over. You would go over with them in tow in order to have a play date with Apollo which made for a perfect opportunity to get to know Nines a bit more personally.

You couldn’t believe all it took was Gemma fucking Apollo to have Nines’ pin you up against his wall pressing hot kisses against your neck.

You make note to thank her later.

Tagging: @kwaiky, @cura-posterior, @sethrine-writes, @sunstrain, @the-darklings, @deviantramblings, @thedragonkween, @hades-ii, @deviancy-wasteland, @yonaih, @diansaprince (thank u for support your local dbh stannie), @susiephalange (GOSH!! QUEEN!! IM LOVE U!!), @michverse (....my other caucasian king...the race war ain’t ready...), @pointedly-foolish (ASJKDJSAKSA MY DECHART HISTORIAN HOW U DOIN’?), @kyarymell, @connorswink, @feralconnor, @justadweebwithashittydream, @heysliver, @negotiator-on-site, @marvelousmorales (is this thing still on *pats mic* anyweys im love u), @dizzypinwheel (ur husben still owes the chat recipes SKSKSKSK), @wrinkledparchment (it may sound redundant pero thank u for ur service), @blue--blushes (AHHH), @black-widow-fangirl (wig), @mattiekins, @layinglonely, @dragonempress123, @divadonadance1, @xyfanficarchive (hope you are living your life deliciously!!), @shorthawkes

#angel writes #connor x reader #connor rk900 x reader #rk900 x reader #detroit: become human #detroit become human #nines x reader #dbh x reader #dbh #dbh nines #dbh nines x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 #detroit become human x reader #connor rk900 #dbh imagine #fur better or fur worse #it's funney bc i've been doing nothing but angst then this shit comes up lmaooo! the duality!

704 notes · View notes

another-star-eyed-kid · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Orpheus having (trying) to extract Eurydice from a fight before she kills someone.

ack im so sorry this is late but i hope you enjoy the children !!! they are very soft !! ur awesome

reminder that i am always taking prompts unless specified otherwise. i might take a while though, i am so sorry !!

edit: forgot tags and read more whoops !!

—🎶—

guitar strings pressed against orpheus’s already calloused hands like razor blades. it was a feeling he was used to and even welcomed. the vibration of his strings, the feeling of letting his voice loose, the welcoming aura of the bar, his lover smiling at him from across the room: it was his own little paradise. he didn’t have to focus on anything besides how he was doing in that moment, and he liked to keep it that way. Because in that moment, he felt nothing but bliss.

the last note of the song he was performing rang out, followed by brief applause from the patrons at the bar. a familiar pair of brown eyes met his, and a smile swept across his face. he took a few moments too long staring at her before speaking into the mic.

“um, yeah. that was my first song of the night. it’s, uh, title is in progress but yeah. um-” he scratched the back of his neck. it would be an understatement to say that he was much better at singing to crowds then to speaking to them. it was a much more daunting task when the words weren’t pre-written for him.

then, a rush of cold air blew through the little dingy place and a man walked through the door. from the second that he entered the bar, orpheus got an unsettling feeling. he had swoopy hair that bordered between brown and blonde, a tall, muscular figure, and a smug smile on his face. but it wasn’t his appearance that made him feel anxious, it was the way he held himself with such a judgmental and arrogant air.

“sorry guys. little nervous. uh, anyway, i’m orpheus, i usually tend the bar over there. and, yeah. i’ll be here till we close up so enjoy this next song: intention.”

he drew a breath and began to sing the song, occasionally taking glances at the man. a pit in his stomach grew the more alcohol he watched him consume.

about halfway into the next song in his set, orpheus noticed the man talking to eurydice. a little odd, but he gave the man the benefit of the doubt and assumed himself he was just asking for another drink. but his lover seemed…angry. she shook her head no at the stranger, and from what he could see, she was clutching her fist. the young girl pointed up at the stage where orpheus was singing, and the man turned to look around. of course, as if right on cue, the commotion caused his voice to waiver and crack, and he didn’t press the string hard enough so it came out as a pathetic muted tone. heat rushed up to his face, but he tried his best to at least finish the song. the patrons deserved a good show.

but right before the last line something else caught him off guard even more than before: a voice, though quieted by the noise of the bar, still barely loud enough to hear.

“pfft, him sweetie? what has he ever done for you? let’s be real here, did you hear him just now? i’m sure i can do much better than that.” he crept his hand up her arm.

a wave of embarrassment, anger, and worry overcame the singer. the stranger’s words stung in his heart, but what worried him most was the look in his lover’s eyes which he didn’t see too often. she was about to punch someone.

he strummed the last chord, looked around, and caught the eye of one of his friends. the poor boy mouthed a quick “please” and pointed at the mic. to his relief, his friend nodded and made his way up the stairs.

orpheus uttered a smushed, “i’m-so-sorry-folks-i-need-to-step-off-for-a-sec-in-the-meantime-my-good-friend-mr-brian-drye-will-play-a-wonderful-trombone-solo-for-you-all-thank-you-i’ll-be-one-sec”

he carefully placed his guitar on its stand, and jumped off the stage, neglecting the stairs entirely. all he worried about was rushing over to his wife before she got hurt.

right as eurydice’s feet landed on the ground after jumping the bar, the young man rushed to her side, and gripped her hand tightly. it was his attempt to calm her down, make sure she couldn’t use it to punch the man, and a gentle reminder to him of whose wife she was.

staring into the man’s cold blue eyes, he felt his pulse quicken, and his face gathered more heat. orpheus was much scrawnier than he was and if he were to hit him, the poor boy would definitely be knocked out cold after one go-around.

“um, sir. excuse me for interrupting, but seeing as though you have dis-” his hands shook more. had he been shaking this entire time? he drew another breath and began talking again. “seeing as you have disrespected me and my wife, i’m going to have you to leave the establishment.” the stranger opened his mouth to speak, but orpheus was already going, and he had no intention of stopping there. “i would like to say that i do have the authority to that because i am the manager for this bar, if you didn’t know. and if you even think about assaulting one of us i will press charges.” that was a lie. orpheus could barely afford fork, let alone a lawyer. “so please leave the bar, or i will have to let my beautiful wife, who i would do anything in this world for, loose on you.”

the man squinted at him and the poet squeezed his lover’s hand tighter. much to his relief, all he did was scoff at him, turn around, and leave the bar.

the young lovers looked at each other intently. they embraced, until orpheus piped up for a moment.

“may i-”

“of course.”

they shared an uncharacteristically chaste kiss on the lips, soaking in each other’s presence for a moment. the poet made sure to hold her in the exact same spot as always: his right hand on her lower back, and his left right below her neck.

“i love you so much, eurydice.”

“i love you too. don’t listen to him. you’re the best singer in the world.” she grabbed his face. “now go finish your show, lover boy.”

#i would sell my soul for orpheus hadestown #kiz answers things #kiz writes #hadestown #hadestown fanfic #eva noblezada #reeve carney #hadestown musical #hadestown broadway #hadestown bway #eurydice #orpheus #orphydice #my writing #prompts

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thetriggeredhappy · 5 years

Note

19 “This is going to hurt.” Blunt Trauma please!

im just gonna assume you meant 17 because that’s the sentence you tagged on it. here’s some medic/scout content yo (warnings for just so many needles and other various pain-related stuff, as well as drug mention in passing)

17.) “This is going to hurt.”

“This is going to hurt.”

“Ow!”

“I said it was going to hurt.”

“Yeah, and it fuckin’ hurt, so I said ‘ow’. That’s how things hurting works, Doc.”

Medic sighed, eyeing the remaining two dozen needles on the tray, then Scout’s bare back. “Herr Scout, if you are going to complain the entire time, I can go and get a different volunteer,” he said begrudgingly.

“Oh, don’t even worry, I’m gonna complain the entire time,” Scout said, voice slightly muffled from him being facedown on the operating table. “But also I’m pretty sure nobody else is gonna agree and I’m a last resort, so, you’re just gonna have to deal, Doc.”

Medic only considered that for a few moments before picking up another needle.

“So what’d you say this was called, again?” Scout asked, head turning just slightly. “Acu-picture?”

“Acupuncture.”

“And—ow—why do people do this? Because so far this sucks.”

“Oh, plenty of reasons,” Medic said, eyeing the chart he had before him for a few moments before picking up the next needle. “Performing it on this area of the back is supposedly good for…” He squinted, pushing his glasses up a bit. “…Dizziness. Which I understand has been a problem?”

“Uh, yeah, I—ow. Yeah, I think I just need to like, drink more water.”

“Hydration is not the problem, nor blood loss,” Medic said, picking up another needle. “It is something I could feasibly give you medication for, but it is not often I get the chance to practice attempting alternative therapies.”

“What, like what Sniper does on the weekends?”

“Don’t tell me what Herr Sniper may or may not do on the weekends. I would rather continue pretending I don’t know for plausible deniability.”

“Apparently Miss P visited for a bit and did some with him.”

“Please do not tell me what Miss Pauling and Sniper may or may not participate in recreationally so that I can please have plausible deniability,” Medic said, pushing the needle in a bit faster than he’d done previously.

“Ow.”

“Regardless. While that may be a sort of… remedy, for certain problems, that is not what I mean. I was talking about treatments that are not necessarily condoned by the scientific community due only to lack of research despite a consistent trail of evidence pointing to it being effective in certain patients when done correctly, mainly because the treatments stood long before research was nearly as standard and often don’t have single individuals to credit and the community is wildly biased against older remedies. Mainly they’re things that seem strange but are often extremely effective for reasons unknown.”

“Isn’t that like, everything you do?”

Medic paused. “Herr Scout, my experimentation is research,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s all kinda weird, and painful, and doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it still works anyways. So it’s basically just like architecture.”

“…Acupuncture,” Medic said when he realized what Scout was talking about.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“To be fair, it is not intended to hurt,” Medic said, ignoring the little ‘ow’ Scout said as he pushed in another needle. “There are often interesting sensations, but very little actual pain. The gauges of my needles should be the correct size, I believe I just need more practice.”

“Is that why you cut people open all the time too? For practice?” Scout asked sarcastically, and yelped when Medic flicked one of the needles.

“No. That is research.” Silence between them for a few moments, broken only by Scout mumbling more ‘ow’s. “How has your other treatment been working?”

“My what?”

“The… Koffein, caffeine, the, er, energy drinks.”

“Y’know, it’s—ow—it’s weird,” Scout said. “Because the guys drink coffee, and you European guys drink tea, and it’s always a thing that I hear, like, it’s supposed to wake you up? But it doesn’t wake me up at all. Coffee just makes me kinda wanna throw up and makes my hands shake a lot more, and tea tastes fuckin’ gross because you people have wrong mouths or something—ow! Hey!”

“Hmm?” Medic asked, feigning innocence.

“That one was on purpose!” Scout accused.

“No, no, of course not,” Medic said lightly. “Continue.”

“…Uh, but yeah, I don’t like tea. But the caffeine in a can, that stuff works great. All the making my brain shut up from coffee but none’a the nausea. Keeps me focused, makes me… notice stuff that matters, and not just, like, everything all the time always. And less of the zoning out.” A pause. “Does make my head hurt, though, when I back off of it again on weekends an’ stuff. And makes me sick when I don’t drink it for a while.”

“Hmm. Perhaps easing in and out of drinking it…” Medic mused quietly. “Regardless. Thank you, Herr Scout. This is important research.”

“You don’t gotta call me that, y’know,” Scout said, tilting his head down obligingly when Medic moved it.

“Was?” Medic asked, picking up the chart to look more closely at it.

“Herr Scout. Isn’t that kinda like saying ‘Mister’ or somethin’?”

Medic hesitated for a second. “…Not perfectly, but essentially, yes,” he replied.

“Well, you don’t gotta call me that,” Scout said, wincing hard at the next needle, pushed in carefully near his hair line. “Fuckin’ ow. You can just call me Scout.”

“Why do you say that?” Medic asked, frowning, and consulted the chart again.

“I mean, we’re teammates more than just co-workers. And, hell, I kinda figured some of us guys were… y’know, buddies,” he said, voice getting quiet towards the end. “And you know my real name anyways, it’s in my file. And probably a bunch more stuff about me that none of the guys know. Maybe that anyone knows. So… I dunno. Seems kinda weird to keep being all formal about stuff. Even Spy’s calmed down about it at this point, and that dude’s a total dick.”

Medic considered for a moment. “Perhaps I simply prefer to remain professional,” he said, a little stiffly.

Scout barked a laugh. “What are you, Sniper?” he asked, a little disbelieving. “And even that guy smokes weed on the weekends.”

Medic smacked Scout on the lower back where there were no needles, huffing. “I told you not to tell me about that!” he said, not a little irritated. “Now I will need to address it!”

“Or you can pretend I didn’t say anything,” Scout suggested.

“That would require me trusting you not to tell anyone that I know about it.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Scout said, lightly and easily in a way that made Medic have to pause for a few seconds.

“And why should I believe you?” Medic asked next.

“Dude, I literally just said we’re friends maybe two minutes ago,” Scout scoffed, and Medic could practically hear his eyes rolling. “Seriously, are you sure you aren’t the one with the memory problems? Or the attention issues?”

Medic set his jaw, and had to fight hard to keep emotions from welling up in his chest. “My memory is fine,” he said a little stiffly. One more wince from Scout, and his tray was empty. “There. Should be done.”

“Hey, by the way, one more question,” Scout said, trying not to move too much.

“Yes?”

“How come you didn’t ask to do this to the big guy?”

“Higher pain tolerance. I would not know if I was doing things incorrectly,” Medic answered. A pause. To be fair, Scout had been very nice, had had the courage to be almost alarmingly open and honest. He could afford to drop the professionalism, at least for a moment. “And I’ll admit that I find you occasionally entertaining, and enjoy our conversations. Your enthusiasm in what I have to say is admittedly refreshing.”

“Aww,” Scout teased. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Hmm. Clench your teeth, it is time to take these back out.”

“Aw, man.”

#blunt trauma #medicscout #tf2 #team fortress 2 #more bro content than romance content honestly #shut up me #my fanfiction #my writing

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queenharumiura · 4 years

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|･ω･｀) rentarc

Send me |･ω･｀) + a URL and I’ll talk about this blog! ||Accepting||

Let’s see...where to start? To begin with, I still need to stop being so lazy and actually watch the anime that Rentaro is from. He seems like a GOOD BOITM and i’m all about that. From the threads we’ve had between our muses, Rentaro and Haru get along well, and i’m absolutely grateful for that.

From what I can recall, we’ve talked through ims before, and a good amount by tags lol. Chiessu has occasionally interacted with me by asks memes and the like, and it always makes me happy to see since it’s like, “oh- I... I exist in this realm.”

Since there is no real theme to this meme, I am allowed to talk about whatever I want, huhu. so i’ll take this time to mention a specific time period. So, I go through sporadic moments of being pretty active and being relatively inactive. I do not actively put myself out there to interact with people due to various reasons that I won’t go into here.

Anyways, for a while, my activity was kind of stagnant, and I was okay with that. I kinda just go with the flow of things and I don’t mind things being slow on my blog. Still, around the time when I started making a come back, i’m sure that’s when Chiessu came around. We still hadn’t been interacting for long yet when Vday came around.

I remember this specifically, because I always have a Vday event I do annually. Older followers would know what i’m talking about as this event will span all my blogs and it bleeds into White day as well. So, I was surprised to see a like from Rentaro on the post. Not long afterwards, I got ideas of what to do based off the thread we had going on-- learning that they both are into cooking.

So I had my directive there. I may not have mentioned it then, but I was happy to know that even if we hadn’t interacted for long at the time, Chiessu still liked the post. It does my ‘I love chocolate day’ heart good. A lot of the usual takers were not on tumblr at the time (and this was before a lot of the KHR blogs made a come back) so Haru didn’t get many takers this year.

So it really meant a lot for me to see a like from a new blog who hadn’t participated in the past. I believe it was Vday itself that I reblogged a meme and I was sent a meme to make a playlist for the Haru and Rentaro. (It was a Vday meme for anyone else who is reading this)

Again, quite surprised, and it took a while for me to do it because I love to play around and customize things. I had a lot of fun with it and I hope Chiessu enjoyed it. Idk, it really meant a lot to me to be sent a meme at that time. I do think that Haru and Rentaro work well as friends. I really am not sure about anything further than that since I still don’t know Rentaro that well as a muse.

Regardless, it meant a lot to be sent something from a vday meme specifically because it’s something that I reblogged only bc it was Vday that day. I truly did not expect to get anything. It was very touching, for me, to see the [1] over the inbox.

Haru and I have very bad--- history, to put it bluntly when it comes to shipping. More like, back then people only cared for shipping, so Haru had a really hard time getting any interactions back then. So I have a lot of hurt when it comes to even suggesting ships or reblogging vaguely shippy memes.

That’s why you hardly ever see me reblog any because of that past. So the fact that I was sent one, even if it was just for kicks, it truly meant so much to me, and I to be honest, still think about it to this day. I’m sure I didn’t say anything about it because I don’t take the initiative to talk about my feelings first, but it’s something that left an impression on me.

In other words: I truly adore the Rentarc blog and I love the one who runs the blog too.

Additionally, pretty sure there was another blog specifically crafted for the Isola rp group? I think I was maybe following both or something? IDK, but I think I saw them both on my dash once and it really messed me up for a while since I just couldn’t understand how the blog kept looking different when I clicked.

It took me a lot of squinting to realize ohh--- it’s a different blog. OH. Oh, i’m dumb. Felt like sharing that dumb story that I never shared because I felt HELLA DUMB and I almost started panicking because I couldn’t understand.

#Rentarc #meme answered #answered ask #thanks for the ask!#Long post #Neo speaks #((Basically expect me to ramble a lot if i'm asked for my thoughts. whoops))

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gggno · 4 years

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𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆

imma answer this is vague general terms as a mumu

mostly gonna talk about daozi bc i gotta hype up my own OC

this time coming back to tungle im making a lot of ships myself

if we’re friends, shipping is usually chill and easy bc i trust you

if we just met, it takes me some time to understand if our writing and / or muse work right

but all in all? im all for fun

otp for your muse ?

non-romantic : friendship and family ALWAYS make me cry. rivals are also a cool idea as long as they push each other to be better.

romantic : i’m a sucker for slow burn, open communication and unmistakable affection that shines like a goddamn sun.

other muses you ship your muse with ?

non-romantic : for example, daozi / caroline and daozi / wukong are the solid friendship and family bonds i want to write about.

romantic : daomin is my own oc ship, it’s about yearning and reconciling and whether it’s possible to love without pain. thanks to my friends i have several lovely ships with daozi and while i’m happy for any i do wanna explore more about daozi x women please

any notps ?

non-romantic : manipulative, gaslighting, that kind of bs

romantic : same as above, no sexual violence either

are you selective when shipping ?

non-romantic : don’t think of it as me picking groceries, it’s more about our communication and interaction, and how comfortable we feel.

romantic : see above.

does one have to ask to ship with you ?

non-romantic : it’s simple, just suggest certain dynamics and we’ll see!

romantic : it takes a little more with romantic ships for me but it’s usually just time, and once i warm up to the idea i’m all heart emojis.

how often do you like to ship ?

non-romantic : every waking moment baby, love is REAL.

romantic : same as above but no pressure at all.

multiship ?

non-romantic : yep.

romantic : i��m not looking for other romantic ships for certain muses so i won’t really explore anything outside of my major ship.

how far do steamy moments go before they’re considered ns/fw ?

non-romantic : i don’t do steamy stuff for non-romantic ships.

romantic : any of those parts mentioned and we’re fading to black, i don’t wanna write ns/fw in rp now.

how large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable ?

non-romantic : as long as it makes sense.

romantic : not to start an essay here but i think i squint the most if the age gap crosses significant life stages like the line between a minor / adult, so if the ship involves a minor i’ll be squinting very hard. if you’re talking about 40 yo and 50 yo then i’ll probably just nod.

favorite ship in your current fandom ?

non-romantic : don’t give me an excuse to shout about my niche fandoms!!!!!!

romantic : finnrey, huma, my niche ships from niche fandoms pensive emoji

how does one ship with you ?

non-romantic : send me posts that you see for our muses! i love those

romantic : see above! i love sending people posts anyways

tagged by , @geneticempath tagging , @chlarine, @keptsake, @seriouslyaliens, @scavengered, @spitaught

#OOC.#thank YOU

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 5 years

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Maya?? Maya!!

also Athenas lmao

finally i am free to work on this

boy i sure hope we don’t get more info soon *squints at Amara’s character trailer just around the corner*

tl;dr: athenas. wow. uhhh temple areas with the weird vault-shaped statue things might be a teleportation hub or something like a Stargate cuz, uh… they’re probably not Vaults. i mean. given what we know maybe they are Vaults but not like vaults with important stuff inside, just teleportation vaults. you know what im trying to say? i mean it’s not like the eridians had any spaceships we’ve seen. but they had to get around somehow.

also it’s possible the big temple area we see is on Athenas, is in that giant fucking pyramid in the background that i completely and totally did not notice for the longest time.

i also discuss Maya and her thoughtlock skill (if she gets her powers taken away from her) and if she’s gonna die or not. because she’s got the Cloud Kill legendary (’oh noo she ded’), an apprentice (let’s be real, the cliches aren’t looking great), and she seems to working beside rampagers in that giant temple area (also another reason i think it’s on athenas) and tbh i didn’t see her tattoos in either of those shots (but that could be cuz she’s so smoll). so that’s cool.

oh also the order of the impending storm was probably pretty respectable back in the day, since they can track sirens (maya’s assassin in son of crawmerax), and maybe that’s how maya figured out ava was gonna be a siren even tho she hasn’t manifested her powers yet. and Maya’s probably unearthing all this buried Siren/Vault knowledge and bringing the Academic District back into power while also protecting the Order from Maliwan. who’s still v sus.

wow we have a lot to go over

so to start, im taking a wild guess and saying the temple is on Athenas. why? because we really haven’t gotten a lot of looks at either of those areas too much (compared to promethea and eden-6) and the architecture lines up to me.

also i, an idiot, was all like ‘mannnn Athenas is super mountainy, that’s wild. love it’ and neglected to realize there’s literally a giant fucking pyramid in the background of a lot of shots

on the right

behind the tower

to the right of ava

on the left

so i feel really dumb right now for not noticing this sooner and writing it off as a mountain. It's literally the fuckin Vault symbol like. ~triangles~. i played skyrim i should know what mountains look like when they’re not 1 polygon

either way, if that’s not at least part of the temple, it’s definitely important. somehow.

but let’s talk about the temple. the parts we know.

let’s try to look out the windows of this wild place

see cause this looks like inside a mountain

so my first instinct was eden-6 because we see a volcano on there

i mean im under the assumption this is eden-6???

bc all the plants match up

… maybe there’s more than one temple?

oh god i don’t wanna separate these by temple that’s going to be IMPOSSIBLE

but yeah i guess it’s possible there’s one on Eden-6 and one on Athenas… dear god…

but yeah my first instinct for that was ‘inside a volcano’

possible mountain on the left there

very rocky all around. im assuming this is underground or smth?

it feels like we’re underground

so maybe it’s a thing where it just keeps going further down. iunno.

it’s hard to place exactly where this is going to be because of the whole ‘underground’ thing

the part that’s throwing me off the most is this

because this looks like Pandora bc of Elpis and the rocks

and it looks like we’re walking outside a temple with the same friggen tiles on the floor, which means it is possible that this is The Temple, but you think we’d know about a giant-ass temple just on pandora. especially with the big dig site

but then we see a super similar dig site (supposedly on promethea). so what the HELL

im almost inclined to believe this is some sort of Eridian teleportation system. i know, i know, we have Sanctuary-III so it’s pointless. but… will we always have Sanc-III throughout the story? yada yada orange/gray -> blue/yellow/red markings. you get the dealio by now.

when taken by the cult or smth.

idk it’s possible we won’t have sanc-III for the entire game (just like normal sanctuary in bl2, in that we’ll get it back eventually (or ill kill someone for taking my room decorations)) and then we’ll have to use this wicked eridian tech to move between planets with these gateways. sort of like a stargate…

this thing is a stargate. I’ll call back to this in a hot second.

what kinda shit am i tripping on? i don’t really know. but given how it seems like these temples could be on ANY of the planets we see, im trying to figure out wtf the connection could be.

and give me this: we have never actually seen an eridian spacecraft, but we know they’ve traveled across the galaxy, putting vaults on different places. how in the fuck could they have done that if, you know, they didn’t have spaceships to travel through… space?

well we know they have the power of teleportation down pat. i mean down so hard they were able to create a ‘teleportation gland’ that allowed a giant vault monster to teleport at will. (now im wondering if lilith has one… hm.)

this blue thing (which… is the same color as siren stuff. okay. im sorry. i won’t get off topic this time. but it’s stewing in my gray matter)

and given that we know all the (okay, we only know for certain some) vaults open up into this other dimension (space place), would it be so hard to believe that they’re created links between planets using this dimension? i just… something isn’t right here and this seems like the most logical solution.

take a look at Eleseer. look at all those holograms of labeled planets. of galaxies and stars in the distance. it’s possible eleseer is like the Hub for this teleportation system (explaining why it’s always open) and explaining why it’s got all those weird planet holograms sitting around. could also explain why Moon = Key.

These aren’t Vaults, they wouldn’t show up on the Vault Map- explaining why we never saw this one on Pandora- these are like… gateways or something, iunno. name pending until sept. 13th i guess.

so why tf am i going off about this on a post about maya and athenas?

because i think athenas has a gateway in it too

yeah you should recognize that thing in the background!

that’s this place!!! from the behind closed doors demo!!

and it still

doesn’t look like a vault to me

it’s intact (also it looks like stairs…). all the Vaults we’ve seen are 100% not intact. they’re all chunky and in pieces (we’re gonna ignore eleseer and uhhhh all that business right now, but even thinking about how the sentinel tried to emulate a vault by spawning it in chunks and THEN assembling it)

chunky

im just saying there has to be a reason these vault-like shapes are intact. they’re either just statues/monuments or they have a purpose.

so why tf am i convinced they have a purpose?

bc we’ve seen one light up

taken straight from the void itself (seriously it’s like a gradient back there. which is weird.)

so there’s gotta be a reason it does this right? and if it’s not a Vault, because it’s on Pandora and the Crimson Raiders would have seen it on the Vault Map, then what the fuck is it?

welllllllll i just don’t know. but my best guess right now is some sort of teleportation system to travel between planets. if there are ‘temples’ on every planet then it would make sense that there is some way for eridians to travel btwn them.

personally i think there’s one on eden-6 (maybe in that volcano area??) and one on Athenas (cause we really haven’t seen a lot of athenas yet and… i dunno i just have a feeling). and there’s apparently one on Pandora (given we see it with elpis in the background) and possibly one on Promethea. i don’t know what that instagram video was trying to imply. i don’t wanna think too hard about it right now my brain hurts enough already as it is.

but uhhh i was gonna talk more about athenas than this

i promise this is gonna lead into maya

the academic district, with a Vault symbol on the door, to boot.

so this place is really interesting to me for a lot of reasons.

1. that vault symbol on the door

2. they’re flying flags with the vault symbol on it

3. giant pyramid in the back

it’s staggeringly huge

4. they have siren tattoos on the building in the back there. specifically, amara’s tattoos

yeah. maybe this is Partali? a smaller area on Athenas, like Meridian is a city on Promethea, and this is Amara’s way of tagging her presence/an area under her protection as the Tiger

more shots of Athenas from the amd horizons e3 stream

it’s a very pretty planet

so if anything, this is the place we’re going to go to learn about Sirens.

and i don’t know how much the Order of the Impending Storm actually KNOWS about Sirens, because all we know about them from maya’s backstory is that they were assholes and using maya to keep the people scared and giving them money

also that they knew how to track sirens

that’s probably important…

“Maya, you’ll like this next dude. He’s a Siren tracker named Mordo Sophis, Father of Brother Stephen Sophis, that dude you ganked back on Athenas. And boy, oh boy, is he just itching for vengeance.”

who isn’t, mr. mordo, sir? get in line

anyway apparently the Order knows how to track Sirens. Which could explain how Maya has a Siren apprentice when Ava uhhh apparently hasn’t manifested her powers (or tattoos) yet. might also explain how they got their hands on Maya when she was a baby. cuz yeah… i got the feeling they stole her and killed her parents… just a feeling.

y’know if tannis didn’t kill that siren tracker dude maybe she could’ve learned something from him first. that could’ve been interesting.

anyway, idk. maybe at one point the Order was respectable and, like, didn’t force people into giving them money by using sirens as a scare tactic.

it looks like they have/had an academic district (which im sure maya is helping cultivate) focused on Sirens/Vaults.

and there’s a lot of importance on books this game

seriously

apparently

there’s

lot.

but let’s get back to this in a minute, because i do wanna talk about the name of the Order.

it’s full name is the Order of the Impending Storm.

I know while writing bl2 they probably didn’t know that they were gonna be building towards a war in tps, but it’s still interesting that they decided to bring them back into play now. because they 100% could have just left them as a background monastery that Maya came from and have maya refuse to return/start her own organization. but they made her specifically return there.

so does their name have significance now? i’d be willing to bet a yes. I mean, war is coming. Impending Storm sounds like it’d be a pretty fitting name for an organization that knew this. Especially because according to Maya’s cosplay guide, they worshipped her like a God (seriously lol are all Sirens worshipped as minor deities? most people know Sirens are Sirens right? like just people with magic powers..? hmmm)

And if Maya returned to learn more about Sirens, then isn’t it implied that the Order did, in fact, know more about Sirens than Maya did? hell, maybe even Tannis…

especially if the temple or eridian ruins are nearby. Say… In this giant pyramid…

so this doesn’t fit in with the aesthetic of Athenas at all. it’s almost like those are caution colors on the bottom strip there. warning you to not go inside. i don’t know if this was built by the eridians or by whoever is on Athenas to keep whatever’s inside… inside (cough Rampagers cough)

either way that pyramid is FUCKING HUGE

seriously, just compared to the academic district, it’s insanely big (that is the BASE in the background)

also guess who just realized this would be a hilarious joke by gearbox

to have pyramids built by ancient aliens. oh, you.

also, side note, there’s a crew challenge for moxxi in the academic district

i just have no idea how we’re getting up there…

oh but the Order. yeah i get the feeling they know A LOT about Sirens/Eridians. maybe even what’s about to go down. but maybe a majority of that was lost in the archives when some corrupts assholes came into power. and now Maya returned and is slowly but surely unarchiving everything we need to know about Sirens.

perhapith this book has some Siren-y knowledge within it? from someone who went into the temple on Athenas and… never came back out.

and I would bet Maya is waging war against Maliwan at the same time as she’s uncovering all this buried info (protecting the Order) because Maliwan is trying to get this info as well.

Seriously, anyone else notice Maliwan is SPREADING?? They’re not just on Promethea. they’re on Eden-6. They’re on Athenas. They’re even fuckin on Pandora in some trailers (although I would not trust any trailer with roses at this point. something’s really fucky. I will make a seperate post about that i think, once we get Amara’s and Fl4k’s trailers). I’m really suspicious that Maliwan has either joined the cult, or they’re going to become the main villains. which, y’know, given corporations are the big bad in borderlands always… that seems about right.

I wouldn’t even be surprised if Maya/the Order knows something about the Children of the Vault. Given that one pic of her holding a book with the CoV symbol on it.

that she seems to be passing on to Ava

I dunno. I don’t think Children of the Vault is a name that the cultists/Calypsos just HAPPENED to come up with. And I still don’t think that the broadcast easter egg is from the Calypsos. it doesn’t make sense. I know I went over this in-depth in the Promethea post but god damn it im going to do it again because i feel so strongly about this.

i feel like the cult stumbled upon this name and decided to adopt it as their own. or tried revive an old cult with the same name. and if they didn’t, why in the hell does the message say ‘Do Not Open the Vaults’? How do the twins know about Tannis by name?

i mean, okay, granted we don’t know exactly how she fixed the Vault Map and it could be that the twins know how she did it. Because I still haven’t been able to place that one shot of them walking outside the Recruitment Center

this one

and we know tannis fixes (??) the Vault Map in the recruitment center, so, maybe they saw it happen or there’s some sort of record in the vault map? that shows her fixing it and when they get to Promethea they send out that message?

i meannn she seems pretty surprised it’s functioning, herself.

so maybe they come while/after tannis fixes the key/map to get it back and Lilith like alright everyone let’s book it to Ellie’s garage with the Map. she’ll help us get to Sanc-III.

and in that they see that she’s able to fix it (possibly with weird Siren/Destroyer/Slag/pickurpoison powers) and that’s how they know Tannis is not what she seems.

and maybe the twins just don’t want their cultists opening the vaults because they want to be the ones to open it.

Sure

BUT that’s boring sauce to theorize about because it’s all just there. I’m still partial to the idea that Children of the Vault is actually referring to Sirens tho. It would explain why Maya has a book with the symbol for the CoV on it and is offering it to Ava. Because why would Ava need a book about the Calypsos? who would WRITE a book about the Calypsos?? and make it look THAT old? like… c’mon.

At the very least, it’s an old name for a cult that got revived by the Calypso twins.

At the most, it’s the name for Sirens.

Or it’s the symbol for the Order of the Impending Storm, back when they were respectable. tho you think we’d see maya wearing the symbol somewhere in bl2, so maybe not. unless she took it off her clothes because they had her try to kill unarmed civilians.

I mean, why is the cult’s symbol the Vault symbol upside down, anyway? We know that the symbol for the Vaults in Eridian is the upside-down V in a circle, because Tannis tells us so in bl1. So why would a cult of people who believe the Vaults to be their birthright go around slapping what is essentially the opposite symbol everywhere?

i personally wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the symbol for Siren or something, given how closely intertwined they both seem to be to that alternate dimension.

regardless. let’s keep going

so let’s talk about Maya’s fate in BL3. Is she gonna die? is she not gonna die? i dunno. let’s discuss.

i personally would not be surprised if she does, but i’d be a little disappointed regardless. if any Siren is gonna die… Lilith is going to finish her character arc this game. not that I want her to die, but still. I get that they gotta keep the Siren cycle going.

sooo one big point in the ‘maya dies’ category:

“Oh noo she ded” i mean. that’s just mean, gearbox.

of course we don’t know if that’s talking specifically about Maya, could be talking about Tyreen, or a miniboss, or something. but i do think it’s interesting that it’s on maya’s legendary. plus uhhh given we had a death out of Roland in BL2, and in TPS 2 of those VHs died as well, I think it’s a given at least one BL2 VH isn’t gonna live to see the end of 3. as much as that actually physically pains me to type.

And… to tip the scales further to Maya, Zer0 has crew challenges, which probably means they won’t be biting the dust anytime soon, unless you wanna completely ruin doing all the crew challenges by beating the game before doing the assassination quests. which doesn’t seem like something they’re keen on doing, if Roland giving out side quests had anything to say about it. Of course there’s always the argument that someone will take over Zer0′s crew challenges if they die, but… who would? Rhys? maybe. i get the feeling he might be too busy with Atlas though. Lorelei..? … i don’t know her well enough to make a statement on that.

taken from K6′s awesome legendary loot vid

Back to the legendary. we know it’s hers based off the name ‘Cloud Kill’, which is one of her best skills (after the buff lol). It’s a corrosive only Maliwan smg (as far as i can tell. it doesn’t look like there’s the option to swap elements. so it’s cool to know uniques might throw out their manufacturer’s alternate firing modes). i’m gonna take a guess and say it mimics cloud kill by spawning a cloud on top of enemies that are shot with it. that could clean out an entire room in seconds, especially on Amara with Phasegrasp.

anyway i got more

so Ava is Maya’s apprentice, hmmmm?

well i dunno about you guys but whenever a character gets an apprentice/kid/whatever, it’s not good news for the character. and given that borderlands definitely doesn’t need children to keep the premise fresh, I’m a bit worried for Maya.

Ava must be important to the main story, or they could’ve taken her out or put Gaige in. The devs themselves said they only wanted to bring in characters that they knew had significant importance to the plot and so that characters wouldn’t feel shoehorned in.

so there’s a few ways things can go down with Ava, using apprentice stereotypes:

1) She takes over after Maya dies/has her powers stolen/is brainwashed and helps us bring Maya back by proving herself using the stuff she learned from Maya (or, the stuff she taught herself that Maya said wasn’t important)

1b) she inherits Maya’s powers and Maya trains her in the way of Phaselock

possibly maya handing over her class mod or smth

2) she’s evil and the cult is using her to get info and secretly hates maya or whatever

Given Ava is like… 12… I wanna believe she’s not evil. of course we don’t actually know if she’s 12 cause apparently the Siren lore got messed up knowing Angel had her powers manifest at 5. but that’s not canon until mentioned in-game, so fuck it: let’s believe Ava is 12 and not evil and is just Maya’s kickass Siren apprentice.

The apprentice Maya was able to find because the Order knew how to track Sirens/determine if someone is going to exhibit Siren powers.

yes, let’s go with that.

So… what’s gonna happen to Maya, then?

I personally believe she’s going to have her powers stolen and used against her. One major part of her powers is that she’s able to ‘Thoughtlock’, which basically brainwashes an enemy to fight for her.

That sounds like it would be insanely powerful in the hands of the Calypso twins, especially since Maya has gotten more powerful since bl2, and tbh I can’t see them wanting to pass it up. Of course it could also be story-breaking, but let’s say they can only have one person ever Thoughtlock-ed at a time and suddenly it’s a lot less troublesome.

so this scene makes me do a big thonk

(also, another reason im thinking this temple area is on Athenas is bc Maya’s there! plus there are triangles everywhere. Triangles… pyramids… iunno. just spitballing)

also idk if this is just cause she’s super teeny-tiny buuuut

im worried i can’t see maya’s tattoos

she’s also entirely focused on the player instead of… oh, idk, the giant rampager right next to her

and idk it looks almost like she’s holding a gun and aiming it at us?

which hey, i wouldn’t jump to conclusions right away because she does have a skill that allows her to heal allies by shooting them

but also… if she doesn’t have her siren powers, then that’d just be like… regular shooting, wouldn’t it? and if she DOES have her Siren powers, why in the hell is she not using them on the giant monster right next to her???

we see her again in the background of this shot

again… tattoos not 100% clear.

she also seems to be taking radiation damage from the rampager! which is good. but also she doesn’t seem to care that much about it.

we can also see her gun here

sorry it was kinda being obscured by the youtube progress bar

but uhhh it’s not looking good.

boy i really hope Maya doesn’t die

we also know it was hinted that Krieg might be making a return! from his voice actor’s twitter:

tho, he also soon made a tweet after that was all like “this doesn’t confirm nor deny that krieg is returning” which, yeah i get that.

either way, if Krieg is coming back, it’d be interesting to see what goes down with him, especially if Maya dies. or even if Maya’s ‘just’ in trouble, I could see him going absolutely apeshit.

maybe krieg will sacrifice himself to save maya, somehow. maybe he’s have a moment of pure lucidity and save her. maybe she’ll die and he’ll lose his mind and become a boss battle. maybe she’ll save him and they’ll live happily ever after ;w; who knows~

maybe ava will have heard about Krieg through Maya and will go to get him to try and help save her. that’d be really interesting to see- krieg smashing through a wall with Ava riding on his shoulder lol

anyway, holy shit im exhausted. i gotta wrap this up because it’s like 1am and i’ve been working on this post for like… 3 days straight now. ech.

if maya does die, it would be interesting to see is Ava inherits her powers after we kill the Calypsos. like, would the powers try to go back to their original host? would they see she’s dead and just find another Siren to give the powers to? i wonder if maya dying/being about to die would be enough of a traumatic experience for ava to unlock her siren powers.

ohh it’d be cool if Ava unlocked her siren powers and used them to save Maya from the cult/brainwashing/whatves

alright. im tired lmao

good night.

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #maya #ava #the order of the impending storm

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