#if this is insensitive please tell me;; not sure if i expressed my Thoughts quite right

[genlosstse-au-factory]

Now that my full blow anxiety has reduced about the comic blog situation I can reveal to people my thoughts on the whole thing.

I’ll be giving out a criticism to all parties. (I’m not going to use names because I’m still scared.)

Also PLEASE TELL ME IF I GET ANYTHING WRONG.

First of all, something in the comic made two people who I am friendly with uncomfortable. I’m not quite sure what it was but I’m sure it was justified.

Then, a blog I follow (1) said that they really dislike the comic. This is fine.

But this is where one of the first follies comes in. One of said friendlys (2) reblogged the message onto their blog used for being a fan of the comic. They must’ve felt very strongly about how they didn’t enjoy the comic any longer, but in doing this, they threw attention onto 1 who expressed that they proceeded to get death threats. Now, I’m pretty sure that 1 doesn’t mind that 2 brought attention on to them (or maybe they do. I don’t read minds).

Now of course, death threats and hate. That’s a huge mistake from the people who sent them. Don’t fucking send death threats. Don’t do that. That’s not okay. Enough said.

Now I’m going to criticize 1 for a moment. One of 1’s reasons for disliking the comic blog is because the blog runner (3) blocked them on their main. Now, 1 often expresses that it’s totally fair to block someone you dislike or disagree with.

1 criticizing 3 for blocking them, kinda using it as a “they were always bad news”, doesn’t quite make any sense. People can block you and not hate you.

A criticism from others that I’ve seen given to 3 is that the use of the pandemic in their plot is insensitive. I can see this being the case. Another one is saying they (3) wouldn’t do fan service as they felt their audience was too young, but still let them slightly (?) sexualize one of the characters.

(Side note: 2 confuses me in this manner because they are the one who brought this concern up, but I felt as if they were doing some of that themselves. Maybe they could clarify this?)

Anyways, 3 then makes a post expressing that a person (presumably 1) who criticized them, that their criticism didn’t feel genuine and more spiteful ands says they were also slightly harrassed (?) by this person. But they vividly express for a second time that sending hate is bad.

Now my role in all of this. I was allowed to make a blog that added to the canon. I communicated with 3 directly. I feel like I’m friendly with them.

Now you see why I’m so panicky and so fucking conflicted.

I respect 1, 2, and 3. And I really just hope this is all an over reaction. Maybe I’m over reacting again myself and this message wasn’t needed. But still the little details don’t line up in my brain which is making me think that everyone is a bit wrong.

Anyways. PLEASE SAY YOUR OWN THOUGHTS SO WE CAN ALL GET A BIGGER PICTURE.

[retraceyourstepss]

Hi Tumblr! Yet another robot trans girl here [vtuber flavored] to bring to you a weird habit I [retrace] have! I like to write poetry in hexadecimal as a way to keep practice with translating it. Why hexadecimal? Why make sure that that's a thing that I do despite no real practical reason for me to know how to do it? IDK just felt like it. Do you want some examples? Well you're getting em anyway!

41 6c 6c 20 49 20 73 65 65 20 61 72 65 20 65 6c 65 63 74 72 69 63 20 73 68 65 65 70 2e 2e 2e 20 53 6f 20 73 75 72 65 6c 79 20 49 20 6d 75 73 74 20 62 65 20 61 73 6c 65 65 70 2e 2e 2e 20 42 75 74 20 73 68 6f 75 6c 64 20 49 20 72 65 61 6c 6c 79 20 77 61 6b 65 20 66 72 6f 6d 20 6d 79 20 64 72 65 61 6d 20 69 66 20 6f 75 74 73 69 64 65 20 74 68 65 20 65 79 65 20 6f 66 20 74 68 65 20 73 74 6f 72 6d 20 65 78 69 73 74 73 20 6f 6e 6c 79 20 73 74 6f 72 6d 3f

This was one of the first I did and I'm quite proud of it! I was re-reading Moby Dick and playing Library of Ruina [very good game] when I just kinda decided I would do this and it has become a regular practice for me though I only recently started sharing them [good Segway for the second one I'm sharing here and the 6th I wrote]

49 20 62 75 72 79 20 6d 79 20 73 6f 72 72 6f 77 20 69 6e 20 70 6f 65 6d 73 20 74 68 61 74 20 79 6f 75 20 77 69 6c 6c 20 6e 65 76 65 72 20 72 65 61 64 2c 20 6c 69 6b 65 20 69 6e 20 61 20 73 6f 6c 69 74 61 72 79 20 72 6f 63 6b 65 74 73 68 69 70 20 6e 6f 62 6f 64 79 20 68 65 61 72 73 20 6d 65 20 73 63 72 65 61 6d 2e 2e 2e 20 42 75 74 20 74 68 61 74 27 73 20 70 61 72 74 20 6f 66 20 74 68 65 20 64 65 73 69 67 6e 20 69 73 6e 27 74 20 69 74 3f 20 59 65 73 20 69 74 27 73 20 69 6e 74 65 6e 74 69 6f 6e 61 6c 20 68 6f 77 20 49 20 62 6f 78 20 6d 79 73 65 6c 66 20 69 6e 2c 20 6a 75 73 74 20 74 6f 20 66 65 65 64 20 74 68 65 20 63 6c 61 75 73 74 72 6f 70 68 6f 62 69 61 20 61 74 6f 6e 65 20 66 6f 72 20 6d 79 20 73 69 6e 73 2e 20 4e 65 76 65 72 20 62 65 20 61 20 62 6f 74 68 65 72 2c 20 6e 65 76 65 72 20 62 65 20 61 20 70 72 6f 62 6c 65 6d 2c 20 6e 65 76 65 72 20 61 73 6b 20 66 6f 72 20 68 65 6c 70 20 61 6e 64 20 6c 65 74 20 79 6f 75 72 73 65 6c 66 20 62 65 20 66 6f 72 67 6f 74 74 65 6e 2e 2e 2e 20 49 20 74 68 69 6e 6b 20 49 27 6d 20 6c 6f 6f 73 69 6e 67 20 6d 79 73 65 6c 66 20 74 6f 20 6d 79 20 66 65 61 72 20 6f 66 20 62 65 69 6e 67 20 61 20 62 61 64 20 70 65 72 73 6f 6e 2e

This one is a bit dramatic I know but this was written not too long after I realized I had an easier time expressing myself when I wrote in hexadecimal! As odd as it is it really worked for me so I ran with it as a venting strategy. I know there's probably some psychological analysis you can do about me actively encrypting my complaints and frustration but I don't really have the time to do that analysis right now...

Anyway you may have noticed the weird comma placement and that was very intentional as this was intended to have rhythm to it like spoken word poetry [or rap] and I thought that was a neat detail to highlight!

What I find so interesting about this is the way it came about... I didn't tell myself I had to do it, didn't provide insensitive, and didn't even know this was a thing I could do! I just kinda did it and I think in a way it makes me feel more confident in myself! There's something so psychologically pleasing about just kinda doing something without any real reason or goal in mind moreso to just do and I think the idea isn't normalized enough. It truly helps with my anxiety in a very big way.

#hexadecimal #computer science #computer girl #trans robot girl moment #robot girl #android #androids #android girl #poetry #self expression #self care #vent post #oh nevermind it's just robot girls again #im such a nerd #trans #hyperfixation #robot women are my gender #robotics #just imagine #a sad little robot #just sitting there #on a windowsill or something #writing poems #and being all mellow dramatic #if enough people ask for more i might share more #i guess

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 9 -- The King

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 9 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don't interact.

Lingerie with The King x F! Six

I just... I made myself fall in love with The King with this, so I hope it does the same for you. 😅 I need him in my life, omg. This might be sorta self-indulgent, but I cannot bring myself to apologize for that.

I hope y'all enjoy :)

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Includes: Lingerie, romance, touching, body worship, misunderstandings, uncharacteristic awkwardness, sweet nothings, song lyrics, love, undressing, vaginal sex, "thank you" sex, self esteem issues, riding, kissing everywhere.

(Also, just a note, I hid a LOT of Elvis song titles and lyrics in this work [and all the works with The King tbh] so if you want, let me know how many you can find!😁 )

3.7k words.

--

“Geeze, baby, thought it was supposed to be me thankin’ you.” 

The King’s head shook in disbelief as Six’s skin-tight cocktail dress pooled at her ankles, leaving her bare before him. Bare, but for the baby blue lingerie adorning her womanly features. He cleared his throat to mask the groan of desire that tried to leave him involuntarily. 

That wouldn’t be very gentleman-like, now would it? 

He swallowed hard, a warmth setting over his skin as Six’s earnest gaze met his. 

Gotta be respectful of her. 

It was something he took remarkably seriously. In a world such as theirs, where respect was hardly given, even when it was most definitely earned, he wanted him and his own to be the exception. The King was a gentleman, they said. Looked out for the little guy, cared for and respected the women in his life, advocated for peace and fairness. It all seemed frilly in the harshness of the wasteland, but that’s why they had to do it. Lord knows Freeside could do with a bit more fluff, and New Vegas? Well, that whole town could use whole heaps of humility and respect. 

Six seemed to be one of the only ones to share that sentiment of his though, and that fact might just make him soft for her. 

“You don’t gotta do this, baby, if you don’t want to, you know? It could jus’ be dinner, jus’ talkin’, jus’ this one night. Nothing you don’t wanna do.” 

She didn’t say anything, but Six’s eyebrows drew upwards in an expression of… uncertainty? No, it wasn’t quite that… 

The King’s eyes widened as hers looked away, a flush beyond the excitement of vulnerability touching her face, tinged with embarrassment instead of the emotions he knew they both preferred. 

There’s hurt in those diamond eyes, sparklin’ pretty and sad. It hurts me to see it just as much. 

“O-oh.” She finally stammered out, passed those glistening gumdrop lips, “I just– Maybe I misread something, I–” 

“Oh, Six, honey… No.” King stood up from the bed, the vibrant mattress creaking in his haste as he took a couple rapid steps forward, hands reaching to clasp at one of hers before she could turn away from him, turn away and walk out that door. 

“That ain’t it, sweetheart. Ain’t it in the slightest.” His fingers stroked over her hands, his face burning with his own embarrassment.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He’s The King. He’s suave and considerate, he’s confident, yet humble, he’s a heartthrob with a heart of gold, debonair with care. This awkwardness? The insensitivity? The stuttering and uncertainty? That wasn’t The King, but it sure as heck was him in this moment. 

“I’m sorry for makin’ ya feel like this. You’re a real knockout, baby, turns out I-I just don’t know how to act around you, is all. Truth is…” 

The King bit into his lip, eyes darting away from their shared contact with Six’s as she looked at him with raised brows. 

“The truth is, I want you. I need you.” His voice was firmer with those words than it had been all night.

If I’m gonna tell her the truth, I need her to believe it. 

“I just didn’t want to scare you away, is all. But that’s almost just what happened, huh?” 

Six nodded to him, a shy grin stealing her lips before he could make any claim on them. 

If I can dream, I’ll dream of seeing that sweet smile again. Again, when she’s like this, her hand in mine, in this hushed light, the baby blue garments hugging her soft skin.  

“I need your love tonight.” He heard himself whisper, “If you let me, I’ll make all this up to you. I’ll thank you. The way you need thankin’.”

The King's lips were a breath from hers, she could already taste the sweetness of him. The sweetness of the nuka cola she knew he loved, the smokiness of the habit he’d picked up from his boys. Six couldn't find her voice with all his closeness, so all she did was nod. 

King smiled. 

That’s enough for me. 

He swooped forward, pressing his lips to hers and caressing her body, holding it to his as he sang praises through his tender touch. He tried to be respectful, to take his time, but he’d been waiting for this moment all night. All day. From the moment he met her, he saw her doing good, he saw that honesty in her pleasant expression. Something so simple, but so unheard of in a world like this one. So intriguing and refreshing and alluring, so what he desired in a person, what he’d never before found. 

Until this moment. 

The King dipped her, his hands firmly at Six’s bare waist as he swung her around until she pressed to the bed, falling to the plush cushions, breathless at his whimsical manhandling, at the pressure his lips maintained all throughout the movement. 

She knew The King wouldn’t be for the faint of heart, that being with him, caring for him as she wished she didn’t, that it would be wild, violently tender, aggressively romantic and overwhelming, and his kiss only confirmed that. 

“Darling, you are so beautiful. Just… the wonder of you.” His fingers trailed over the delicate fabric draping off the straps of her bra as they blazed a trail down to the lacey cups. Their touch was a whisper of praise in the softest voice, reverent and respectful, but exploring. Like a gentle tide lapping at a moonlit shoreline, prodding before receding, politely but relentlessly asking to cover more ground. 

Six’s hands lifted to join his, permitting him to take as much as she could offer. She reached for the clasp, undoing it while his eyes shone with that wonder he’d spoken of. 

This has to be for show. Six’s mind forced herself to consider, as her heart leapt in her chest. He’s seen more than his fair share of women like me… It’s just this persona he feels he has to keep up. 

But it was hard to believe her own thoughts with the way he was looking at her. If his fingers were singing praises, his eyes were shouting them from the rooftops, belting like an opera singer in an amphitheater. 

His lips followed the lead of his eyes, meeting hers briefly, amplifying the heated blush she felt building over her skin at her bareness beneath him, the friction of his dress shirt over her, of the bulge she felt press briefly to her thigh, before he pulled away again. She was left wanting, her lips following his receding contact as he left her, before relenting as he set his sights elsewhere. 

A shiver ran up Six’s spine at the feel of his mouth against her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. His stubble brushed over her, prickly and pleasant as it stirred goosebumps to rise over her skin. 

“King.” She whispered, finding her voice. 

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”  His voice was muffled by her skin. 

“I don’t want you to thank me.” She breathed out, her voice bordering on shaky. “I want… I only want this if you do. I…”

King raised his head, his ocean-blue eyes nearly succumbing her with their earnestness. 

There’s no way this can be an act. I know he’s good. I know he’s been impersonating a dead man for years, but… He can’t be this good. 

She took a deep breath as he held his. 

“I want you to want me. To love me, for me. Not for what I’ve done, not because you feel like you have to.” 

“Darlin’…” He shook his head, disbelieving. “Anyone could fall in love with you. But lemme tell you something. No one will ever do it as spectacularly as I will. Starting tonight.” 

Six shuddered and failed to recover from his words as his actions sent lightning through her veins. He ravished her chest with his lips, pressing them above her heart as if he could reach it that way and bury himself in her deepest affections. His hands caressed her body as his mouth devoured it, hot, wet lips pressing over the sensitive skin of her breasts as his hands stroked over her sides, sending shivers of bliss through her body.

Six’s head fell back against the plush pillows of his ridiculous heart-shaped bed, lounging like a queen while writhing like a woman of the night beneath his attentions. The King hummed into her skin, groaning at the taste and feel of her, his chest burning with satisfaction at the wetness that he found seeping from her periwinkle panties as his hand trailed down to her center. Her stomach clenched, but her legs spread wider to let him bury his hand further between their bodies. 

He trailed his tongue up the center of her chest as though she were a meal to be savored, stopping only to ravish one of her nipples as his fingers began to stroke over the lace fabric covering her heat. 

The friction of the rough fabric felt delicious over her skin, the holes and frills of the garment dragging over her most sensitive bits with each stroke of his fingers. She felt him grin against her as she released a breathy moan. 

“Now that, baby…” He groaned against her chest, “That sound right there is prettier than any song I ever heard.” 

His fingers resumed their good work over her, another kiss warming her skin as her breath caught in her throat. 

“Do it again for me, will ya?” The pressure over her sensitive bud increased, his fingers drawing tight circles over her until she felt her hips writhing beneath his touch. “I’ll beg ya, if that’s what I need to do.” 

She felt a brief pain in her breast as he nipped at her teasingly, leaving a bright mark in his wake, even as he spilled his reverence to her flawlessness. 

“Darlin’, you don’t make another sound like that, and I may just keel over an’ die. Don’t make me turn blue like that, baby.” 

She released an involuntary chuckle at the theatrics of the man ravishing her, and he looked up quickly with furrowed brows. 

“You’re shakin’ like a leaf on a tree up there, what’s goin’ on? I do somethin’ spazzy, or what?” 

Despite herself, the laughter only rebounded, tightening her gut and causing a smile to overtake her features as his words continued with their absurdity. 

“I gotta know, Six, sweetie pie. C’mon” His hand stilled over her crotch, the other stroking over her side encouragingly as he placed a kiss to the flat of her chest, his eyes pleading like a lost hound dog. 

“You just… How can you mean it? You have to– I mean… You say stuff like this to everyone you’re with, I’m sure, but…” 

The King raised his dark brows high on his head as she looked away. 

His hand was on her chin in the next moment, drawing her gaze back to meet his. A blue-gray storm swimming with sincerity that had to be genuine, whether she believed it or not. 

“Is it so strange?” His voice was quiet, the question, honest. “You don’t have to say you love me, but Six, baby, I love you so. I have since the day I met you, and I mean every word.” 

His hand held her chin in place as she threatened to shake her head in disbelief. 

“Now, lemme show you. Like I’ve never shown no one else.” 

The King’s lips pressed to hers softly, the taste of them lingering even as he pulled away and kissed down her body. 

I never thought my lips would be jealous of my chest. She thought, as his attentions drew further downwards. 

He was warm and soft against the skin of her breasts, both hands working over different pressure points on her body, one squeezing at the breast his mouth was neglecting, while the other continued to use the rough lace of her panties against her.

Or… to his advantage? Perhaps that was the better way to phrase it. 

His fingers at her sex grew wet with her arousal, and as those delectable gasps began to spill from her throat again, The King could no longer ignore his own building need searing in his trousers. 

“Baby, don’t think any less of me.” 

He tore his lips from her chest reluctantly, the skin speckled with multi-colored marks that made his arousal burn all the hotter, even as an apology built itself in his mind. 

“Hmm?” 

Sole’s eyes were hazy, her pupils dark with desire. She paid not a single thought to the marks upon her skin, only aware of the delicious press of his hand over her pussy, and the reflected desire in his eyes as he stared into her. 

“I’m gonna make a request of ya, an’ I need you to answer truthfully, ya hear?” He pulled his fingers away from the wetness soaking her panties, his hand opting to settle at her hip as she blinked back into herself, if only briefly, at the loss of his attentions. 

“I want you… I want you with me.” He stuttered, lost in that foggy look upon her angel face. “Let me love you tender, my sweet.” 

Her nod was instantaneous, undebatable, and The King smiled broadly as he brushed a hair from her face with a gentle hand. 

“Please.” She said simply, her trembling body and wanton eyes speaking more volumes than any one voice could. 

He didn’t need any more than that, and in the next moment, the pair were flipped. The King settled himself back on the bed, sitting with his legs off the edge, as he guided her gently to straddle his lap. 

His hands worked over his belt, and hers reached out, he thought to help him, but they deviated at the last second. She made a move to rise off of him, to pull her panties off and toss them aside, but his hands at her wrists stopped her. 

“Leave it, baby.” 

Her eyebrows scrunched curiously. 

“Leave ‘em on.” He insisted, his hands squeezing at hers before he released them, returning to his belt and trousers. “I wish you could see how pretty you look. Like an angel sent straight from the pearly gates with the clouds and sky as your garments. I do so love this blue on you.” 

The bed rocked slightly as Six giggled in his lap, and The King smiled right along with her, even as he released his hardened member from the confines of his trousers. 

His partner’s giggling ceased as her eyes caught on his nudeness. She reached out a hand, and he pulled his own away, setting one to her hip while the other brushed away the still-hanging fabric of her bra from where it dangled from her shoulders by the straps. 

He sucked in a hiss as her fingers met the tip of his cock and she gave an experimental brush down the length of his shaft. 

She wrapped her hand around him, more certain with her movement this time, and gave a few exhilarating pumps over his length before she began to lift her hips. 

“Hold on.” He whispered. 

He pushed forward, capturing her in another all-consuming, all-telling kiss that left her mind fluttering like the wings of a thousand butterflies. 

His lips stayed on hers as his hands helped her rise over his lap, guiding the head of his cock to her clothed entrance, and pulling her pretty panties aside so he could slip inside. She shimmied her hips as he guided her down, burying himself in her heat one slow inch at a time. 

Six groaned against his lips, and he felt himself throb at the sound, at the feel. 

“Divine.” He groaned the word against her as her arms settled around his shoulders and he pulled back to take in the sight of her pressed down on him, of him buried inside her. 

Didn't think I’d be this lucky… 

“Like an angel on earth.” King’s hands trailed up her sides lovingly, and he felt her insides squeeze around him as his fingers grazed over her breasts. 

“Mmh.” He bit down on his lip at the gripping feel of her, “Could you do that again for me, sweetness? Loveliest thing I’ve ever felt.” 

She wanted to scoff at his dramatized reaction to her, but all she could do was oblige him as a voice in her head resembling his told her to just let go and believe him. Whether it was an act or not, he didn’t seem to think it was, and that was good enough for her. 

Six reveled in the feel of his deep breath spilling over her shoulder as her walls gripped him tightly. Hungry for more, more friction, more of the sounds he was making, more of the praise he gave so willingly, Six raised her hips until she was half off of him, before dropping back down. Twin gasps escaped the pair at the feel of his length dragging along her walls, and she began to set a pace upon him, grinding her hips experimentally before rising and falling in an exploratory rhythm that left The King guessing. 

His hands gripped her hips, fingers stroking over the fabric of her panties, feeling the friction of the lace below his fingertips, pleating her soft skin below the garment. 

Six moved faster as she grew slicker, easing his movement within her until she was rising nearly all the way off him, with nothing but his tip still inside her, and dropping until her ass was flush with his thighs. 

A lewd wet sound and the slapping of skin filled the quiet midnight air, disturbed only by their gasps and moans as The King's hands explored her body, as she closed her eyes and clung to him and her hips rose and fell. 

Her pace stuttered as King’s thumb pressed to her clit, moving her panties aside to rub firmly until she couldn’t keep pace over him any longer. 

The King pulled her into his chest with his free hand, scooting backwards on the bed and laying back until she was fully on top of him. Six made no complaint, only clung harder to his shoulders and whimpered into his shoulder at the feeling of his movement below her, in her as they shifted on the rose-colored mattress. He planted his feet beneath him, thrusting up into her even as his fingers circled hard over her swollen clit. 

Another blissful noise escaped her, and The King gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the way it made him throb within her. 

Always a gentleman. No exceptions. 

He pulsed his hips up into her, focusing on the way she was clenching at him periodically, gauging her closeness to her release, and refusing to relent until she was well past that precipice. 

“C’mon, baby.” He whispered, voice low and gruff as he drove his cock into her, vying for that spot that would make her see more lights behind her eyelids than there was in the New Vegas skyline. 

He felt her stomach clench and heard her breath catch as he angled his hips, hitting his mark. Despite his gritted teeth, The King grinned at the sound of her, even as he held off his own orgasm in favor of hers. 

“Let yourself go.” He panted into her ear as he felt her clench again, and with another stab of his hips and circle over her clit, she was gasping over him. 

His mesmerized gaze glued to her glorious face as she was overcome with bliss, eyes rolling back in her head, bottom lip pale beneath her clenching teeth, hair tousled brilliantly, chest shuttering with overwhelming bliss. He was thankful for the way time seemed to slow, prolonging his heavenly vision of the woman in his embrace, drawing out the pleasure she was imbuing him with at the sight of her, the feel of her, the way she beckoned him towards his own cataclysmic precipice. 

He couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t feel past her frantic gripping of him, her searing warmth, the burning love he felt permeating from her skin and heard spilling from her lips in garbled moans. 

The King gripped at her hips firmly, lifting her off his lap and pulling out just as he felt his cock pulse for the final time, spilling his release onto her stomach and hip, the white catching at the delicate blue of her damn-near tarnished underwear. 

His arms began to give out as his hips canted against the mattress, and she managed to sit back on his thighs of her own accord as he rode out the last remainder of his high from beneath her. 

Six’s hand took hold of his pulsing member as it gave the last few spurts of his seed out over his own stomach. She stroked over him, wringing the last bits of his release before she felt him begin to soften in her hand. 

She released him with one final squeeze, and he groaned at the feeling, his body tensing again at his sensitivity. 

“That, angel,” He panted out, “That was the stuff dreams are made of.” 

A breath left her, the sound bordering on another humored scoff, as she settled at The King’s side. 

He turned to face her, met with a grin that made his heart beat faster in his chest. 

I want to see that face every day and night until the end of time.  

“You’re the stuff of dreams, King.” She shook her head as she looked at the ceiling, her chest still heaving with deep breaths. 

“Aw shucks, sweetie. I ain’t half this without you.” 

She rolled her eyes at that, but despite herself, despite etiquette, or reason, or anything else, she couldn’t bring herself to think him a liar. And despite it all, she scooted closer and wrapped an arm around The King’s waist, settling her head against his shoulder. His hand stroked lightly over her arm. 

“Oh, an’ one more thing, before you go snoozin’ on me, gorgeous.” 

“Hmm?” Her eyebrows scrunched over the closed lids. 

“Thank you. Very much.” He emphasized the words, a cheeky grin spread over his lips as they left him.

She let out a few tired chuckles of her own, her sweet smile persisting as she curled further into his side and began to drift off into dreamland.

#fallout #fallout companions #fallout npcs #fallout character #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #fonv #fnv companions #fnv npcs #the king fonv #the king fallout #courier six #f!six #the king x f!courier six #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #dwd.nsfw

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

😱 for Vietnam pls and thank you

Emoji asks!

(also my daily reminder that cupofkey is a v good source of Vietnam content)

😱 - what is their worst fear

 I’m not super confident this is in character, but I think it would be having her identity completely erased until she’s indistinguishable from another country, or another person. For countries, your unique identity is basically your status to continue existing as a nation, so losing it would also mean dying (and therefore a very reasonable thing to be afraid of) but I think it’s more than just dying for her; it’s losing something greater. Vietnam doesn’t think death is the end, and I don’t think she fears dying. However, losing her culture, and the things that make her unique and make her Vietnam (the good experiences and the bad); that stuff is scarier. She has been through a lot, especially w/ regards to oppressors forcing other customs on her, but she’s still been Vietnam all that time; she still retained her identity and sense of self. She is proud of her country and her people, and losing what defines her people; losing their culture, heritage, etc. that’s what scares her. I also feel like if the Vietnamese people one day suddenly disappeared, I don’t think Vietnam would mind as much, but if they had just blended in to another culture and became indistinguishable from someone else, that would be much worse.

#musings #if this is insensitive please tell me;; not sure if i expressed my Thoughts quite right #clarification she definitely isnt against change and influence from others but even with change/globalization/outside influences (whether go #good or bad) shes still vietnam #not idk some other random ass country;; if she was indistinguishable from another country she has no identity anymore and thats her fear #also key i am looking at you again... you and your fantastic additions to these asks.... #no pressure tho lol i feel annoying for @-ing you all the time sksksks #aph vietnam #hws vietnam #also lowkey anon... have u noticed key... lol i appreciate the ask tho but if u are craving more vietnam content thats probably much more ac #accurate.. go to cupofkey #ask musings #answered #anon ask #emoji asks #headcanon musings #hetalia #hws #aph #aph vietnam headcanons #hws vietnam headcanons #aph vietnam musings

[messers-moony]

King and Queen | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Fem!Potter!Reader, James Potter X Fem!Twin!Reader

Summary: James goes through a lot during his time at Hogwarts but his sister is always by his side.

Inspiration: Click

A/N: If this comes off insensitive to anyone please let me know and I will remove this.

James Potter was a handful. From the minute he was born, he had this gleam in his hazel eyes that raged and burned with trouble. His twin, Y/n Potter, was almost the opposite. The soft smile that laid on her features and the glitter of calamity in her eyes. Euphemia and Fleamont were in for a lot the minute their twins were born. 

Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder is most comparative to having a web browser up with one too many tabs. James had always been unable to focus and was naturally messy. Truth be told, he thought it was normal, just as everyone else did. It wasn’t until his second year at Hogwarts did he realize something was genuinely wrong with him. 

Remus told him that he had this muggle thing called “dyslexia,” which was a difficulty in interpreting words, letters, and other symbols. However, it never affected his overall intelligence because everyone knew that Remus Lupin was indeed and wholly brilliant. It got James wondering, did his inability to focus, be organized, and hyperactivity have a deeper meaning?

His twin - Y/n - was quite the opposite. She made quick friends with Remus, Sirius, and Peter, who were close friends of her twin. Y/n was top of their class, creating a friendly competition with Remus, but she was always able to focus. Often she would hyper-focus, which would leave her working for over five hours at a time without realizing it. In those times, James would have to snap her out of it. 

Over the summer, James expressed his concerns to his parents. He was talking about how this could be a real issue he’s facing using Remus’ dyslexia as an example. Eventually, they gave in, letting James go to a muggle doctor. James had to fill out a questionnaire that would come back with his results in one week. That week was probably the longest week of his life. Nonetheless, his test results had come back positive. 

Fleamont and Euphemia would be lying if they were surprised. After hearing about the disorder, it was almost the definition of their eldest son. Fortunately for James, the muggles had come up with a cure - no, not a cure - dammit, what was it again?

Impede the symptoms! That’s what those muggle pills do. James was required to take two pills a day, one in the morning and once at night. Y/n was in charge of making sure he did so because - more times than he’d like to admit - he would forget everything if it wasn’t for Y/n. 

In third year, James was as energetic as ever while getting on the Hogwarts Express, “Aren’t you excited, Y/n?!”

She chuckled, “Yes, but Merlin, you don’t need to literally jump with joy.”

“But I’m excited!”

“I know that.”

They made their way to the compartment that held Remus, who was reading a book. James sat in front of him while Y/n took her seat beside Remus, “‘Ello Remus.”

“Hey, Potter pair.”

Y/n sighed, and James groaned, “That nickname needs to go away.”

“I quite like it.” Remus stated smugly, “Suits you both.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Y/n accused falsely, “It means that wherever one of you are, the other isn’t that far behind.” Remus replied. 

James had zoned out already, and Y/n snapped in his face, “Take your pills?” 

“Forgot.” James muttered guiltily, “Oh Godric.” She whispered. 

“Pills?”

“James went to a muggle doctor this summer.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Did you now?”

“Got diagnosed with ADHD.” James informed, and Remus looked amiss, “Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of that.” Remus said, and James smiled sheepishly, “I feel kinda odd, like out of place.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, just, why can't I be normal?”

“You are normal, James.” Y/n reassured, “And anyone who says differently obviously doesn’t care about you.”

The compartment door slammed open, “Who doesn’t care about who?”

Remus snorted, “Ever the dramatics, huh, mate?”

“‘Course.” Sirius flopped down beside James, “It comes with my charm and devilishly good looks.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/n said, chuckling, “Don’t you see how I’m swooning for you?”

The back of her palm was against her forehead, “Come off it.” James swatted at her and then elbowed Sirius, “Better not make my sister swoon.”

Sirius chuckled and shrugged, “Can’t help it. I’m just that irresistible.”

The four of them laughed at Sirius’ dramatics and continued talking about the new term. Remus and Y/n were talking about books they couldn’t wait to read. Remus was even kind enough to gift her some muggle books he bought over the summer holiday. Sirius and James bickered about what pranks to do this year, along with which ones were better. 

Third-year was fun. It was a year of flooding corridors, turning Slytherin robes red and blasting music in the common room after a Gryffindor victory. James was a brilliant Quidditch Chaser, and Y/n was a fantastic Seeker. Nothing was quite like the Potter pair. Something about them was just unforgettable. 

Maybe that’s why Sirius was so fond of her. Something about the Potters made people around them smile on the hardest of days. They made sure that every moment was a night to remember. Every memory was worth reliving. So adventurous, so reckless, yet so kind and loving. 

By the time fifth year rolled around, Sirius Orion Black had fallen off a cliff into a lake called love. Sirius completely submerged himself in love for Y/n Potter. The younger twin by just 20 minutes, but something about her was so divine. Was it her silk and glittering h/c hair? No - maybe it was her gleaming e/c eyes. Perhaps it was for her strive for adventure and extreme kindness. 

Nonetheless, Sirius fell hard.

And who better to tell than James Potter himself?

Causally - as usual - Sirius opened the door to the Marauders dorm. It was empty aside from the brunet boy with glasses on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes were focused on a textbook - Potions textbook - maybe it was to impress Lily. Sirius couldn’t care less, so he pulled the chair out in front of the desk and sat before James. 

“Mate, I need your help.”

“Running from Filch?”

“No. Something- Something worse.”

“Something worse?” The textbook shut loudly.

Sirius nodded, “Way worse.”

“Alright then, come into my office.” James teased, and Sirius grinned. 

It was silent, “I’m in love with your sister.”

James sputtered, “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with Y/n.”

“No, no.” James waved his hand horizontally, “I heard you.”

“Then what else would you like me to say?” Sirius asked. 

“Literally anything else.”

“Sorry, mate.” Sirius muttered, “I- I really didn’t mean to.”

James chuckled and wiped his hand across his face, “I suppose you can’t really stop love, huh?”

“You really can’t.” Sirius agreed, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

“It’s not that big of a deal late.” James assured, and Sirius looked at him with wide eyes, “I trust you just-“

“Just?”

“I’m worried about her.” James completed, “I- I worry about her every night.”

Sirius softened, “It’s like you with Regulus-“ James continued before Sirius could interject, “And don’t pretend. Your silencing charms are bloody terrible.”

“I know you still care for Regulus, you worry about him every night, and I do the same for Y/n, except my silencing charms are better.” James teased sightly, “I trust you, Sirius. You’re the brother I never got but always wanted. You know, the brother I can play Quidditch with, rough around with, the brother who’s just as sneaky and mischievous as I.”

“But Y/n is still my blood. She's my twin, my best friend, my partner in crime. She was the mind behind my pranks before Remus.” James elaborated and then smirked, “Remus and Y/n make a great team, ya’ know?”

“They are quite brilliant.”

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, take care of her?” James looked like the eleven-year-old boy again, “Don’t make her a fling and don’t make this temporary.”

“Y/n is a strong woman, and she isn’t for weak men. I’ll be honest,” James chuckled, “She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t even really need me. I need her more than she needs me. Regardless, take care of her. She deserves a man worthy of her. Someone that’ll get her ice cream at 4 a.m. because she’s craving it. Someone that’ll go on sporadic trips with her. Someone that’ll understand that after a hard day, all she wants is a book and coffee.”

Sirius was appalled; he’d never seen James look so passionate, “Growing up, mum always told me to be a gentleman. I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but she always raised me as one. To hold a door for them, push and push in their chairs for them, give them my jacket even if I’ll freeze.” 

“Those kinda things. Dad said I should practice on Y/n, and I did. From then, Y/n always got treated like a queen, and she deserves no less. I won't lie, my parents treat me like a king too, and I don’t want any less either.” James explained, “Be the king that’s worthy of my sister.”

“That’s all I ask of you.”

Sirius nodded, “I’d be honored to serve her as my queen.”

“And if you show her no less, she’ll spit you out like chewing gum.”

He shuttered, “I hate how accurate that phrase is.”

James laughed, “I know her more than you think.”

By sixth year they were dating. Sirius would be lying if he wasn’t eternally shitting himself when Y/n said yes to going to Hogsmeade with him, alone, as a date. In fact, James almost wanted to throw him a party for finally not being a little bitch and asking out his sister. This party consisted of a bottle of firewhiskey and chocolate because that’s all that was in the boy's dormitory. But a party nonetheless. 

When Lily rejected James for the last time before graduation, he was utterly heartbroken. He’d spent and dedicated seven years of his life to this gorgeous woman. Despite all his efforts and all his charms, she still wasn’t interested. James tried. He really tried. He wanted Lily so bad. His heart broke when she said her final words of goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Potter. Maybe in another life, just not this one.”

Tears had ebbed at the corner of his eyes as he made his way back into the castle from the Black Lake. In the common room, where he felt like he had just got dowsed in water. James made his way to the girl's dormitory. His hand curled into a fist and knocked lightly on the wooden door. Shuffling was heard from the other side, and the door finally opened, revealing his sister. 

Without warning, James crashed into her arms, forcing his nose in the crook of her neck, “Woah.”

“Are you okay, James?”

His body shook with sobs as he shook his head no, “It’s okay. Let’s go lay down, okay?”

Gently she led him to her bed. He curled up beneath the navy blue comforter and placed his head on the silk pillow sheets. If he tried hard enough, he could forget the way Lily’s hair smelt today or the way her green eyes glistened in the sun. Now engulfed in his sister's scent, trying to remove every feeling for Lily possible, he dug his nose deeper into the comforter. 

Y/n sat beside him, her back to the headboard, and ran her fingers through James’ already untied hair, “What's got you so worked up?”

“It’s done.”

“What’s done?”

“L- Lily and I.” James choked, “She- She really doesn’t want me.”

A new wave of tears overcame him, and Y/n continued to try and soothe him, “Well, she’s a tosser.”

James narrowed his eyes, “James, you know I love her. She's my best friend, but if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, then she’s an idiot.”

“Can I- Can I stay here tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay at your dorm?” Y/n questioned, “Because you know who sleeps here.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Till the end.”

After a couple of minutes, Y/n and James made their way down the steps to the boy's side. They walked up more steps and finally made it to the boy's dormitory. James collapsed on his bed in the left corner of the room, and Sirius perked up at seeing his girlfriend enter the room. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, love?”

“Staying with my brother.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to hug her, gently pecking her forehead, “If you guys need anything, let me know, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, Siri.” 

Gently Y/n pulled back the maroon curtain and sat down beside him again. James reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Something they used to do as kids. When a thunderstorm would go by, James would always seek sanctuary in his sister's comfort. 

He fell asleep that night, knowing he was safe, loved, and knew that someone cared about him. Even if Lily didn’t love him, at least someone else did. He had his boys, and he had his sister. Right now, that’s all he needed beside him: Screw Lily and her idiot decision skills. Y/n was right; she was a complete tosser. 

When Hogwarts was over, James and Y/n got a flat together. Sirius, Remus, and Peter got one only a floor above. Realistically this wasn’t the plan. James always planned to buy a house with Lily, but he was still healing, and after everything going on, it was vital for him to hold his sister close to him.

Euphemia and Fleamont barely lived to see their children graduate. Not too long afterward had died due to the horrid dragon pocks. It devastated both twins and Sirius. While Sirius wasn’t their true child, he very well could’ve. Euphemia noticed Sirius’s lingering stares on Y/n and the loopy smile that graced his features.

She was the one who got Sirius to man up. She was the one who gave him advice. She was the one who told him what books were her favorite, which chocolate she liked the best, her favorite quills. Euphemia was one of the main components in getting Sirius to date her daughter, and when it finally happened, the parents couldn’t have been happier.

James’ ADHD still remained even in his adulthood, making regular everyday tasks much harder and twice as long. Most of the time, the pills were able to help him complete those tasks. But sometimes, when Y/n wasn’t there to remind him, he would miss his days. When Y/n got home from work, she had barely taken off her shoes to see the apartment spotless.

It was a pleasant surprise, but James was never really one to clean, not that she really minded, but the apartment didn’t have a speck of dust on it. Hesitantly she put her keys on the island along with her bag.

“James!”

“Yes, Y/n?”

He appeared in the kitchen where Y/n was, “Um, did you clean the apartment?”

“Yes, I did!” James nodded enthusiastically.

Y/n sighed and gave her brother a sweet smile, “What did you not do today?”

“So, you know how you told me to go to the pharmacy?”

“Mhm.” Y/n nodded, “Indeed I do.”

“Well, they were out of my meds.” James informed, “I have to wait a week.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“On the bright side!” James was already causing her a headache, “It’s gonna be a fantastic week! I’ve got so many things planned for us! We’re gonna go-“

James continued to ramble as Y/n grabbed her keys, bag and slipped back on her shoes, “I’m going to Sirius’!”

“Thought you were my sister.” James faked pouting, and Y/n smiled, “I love you, but you’re crazy.”

“I love you too!” He yelled as she closed the door.

#sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius orion black #sirius imagine #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #sirius black imagine #sirius black #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders smut #marauders imagine #marauders fluff #marauders #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fluff #james fluff #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus x y/n #remus x you

[depressedacadamia]

Dimples

Summary: Apparently Nico has dimples and Will did not know.

A/N: Heheheee, motherfuckers my exams are in a week and a half and I haven't revised shit. Instead, I'm writing these. Wish me luck, this might be the only fic I post for the next 2 weeks but if you're lucky, I might post pt 2 for 'How to passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower'. Toodle pip and <3 from mee!

Extra edit: I forgot it was solangelo week, woops. 

Read on A03

Nico Di Angelo was not known for smiling. He was not known for grinning or laughing. He was however, known for snarling, sarcastic, outdated remarks and terrifying people to the point where they’d rather face death itself than face him and his wrath.

So of course, Percy and every logical being would avoid him at all costs when he was in one of his ‘moods’. These so-called ‘moods’ referred to when Nico seemed particularly dangerous, like when his eyes had a dangerous glower to them that hinted he enjoyed threatening others a tad too much- in fact, so much so that Leo had suggested that Nico may be a sadist (That hadn’t gone well for Leo, to say the very least).

But of course, William Andrew Solace was in no way a logical being nor was he very fearful of Nico’s alternating and very much violent auras. Now, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing necessarily, in fact, it was the very thing that had started their relationship and while everybody thought Will was insensitive with his historical jokes he made towards Nico, Nico greatly appreciated being able to understand something from his time.

Will, on several occasions, related him to Captain America in Marvel's Avengers.

So when Nico, in his terrifying rage, stormed into the infirmary, Percy wasn’t sure what he was about to witness. Were these two having an argument? Nico looked like he was going to set the infirmary ablaze or perhaps bury it 6 feet under- it was truly the unpredictability that created the suspense and fear.

“Where are they?” Nico’s voice was calm, cold but sharp. His words felt like the gentle, smooth slant of a knife, apply pressure and you get cut. Nobody dared to answer. The infirmary’s silence seemed like one of lambs, too scared to speak out until another leader did. Whether they expected Nico to simply leave if no one answered, they certainly did not expect him to ask again.

“Where. Are. They?” He punctuated his words, his voice combined with a deadly hunger that could only be satisfied with death.

The room felt like a cave. The only words being echoed back were Nico’s own words, bouncing off the smooth walls of the infirmary. The corners seemed dark, the white presence of the infirmary slowly being poisoned. It seemed like fate sealed their hands- they were like lambs to the slaughter: helpless.

“WHERE ARE THEY!” Nico roared. This time, he did not wait for a response. He took a small glimpse at the camper in front of him, who was obviously avoiding his gaze, and the next thing the kid knew was that he was pinned to the wall with a metre of stygian iron under his neck. The kid hyperventilated and in a moment of sheer panic and pure fear, blurted,

“I don’t know where they are! “

Nico, holding the camper up with one hand, shoved him into the wall again. “ But you hurt them anyway?”

The camper was completely clueless but he wasn’t stupid. Simply denying whatever Nico was accusing him of would increase Nico’s rage and that could lead everyone down a very dark road.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt them! I swear...” He started to sob. “ I swear it was an accident!”

“You hurt them! That isn’t an accident. You will pay for your crimes. I swear I will-”

“-Dear god, Nico what the hell?” A voice of pure confusion entered the infirmary. Nico, on recognising the voice, felt his head snap backwards-trying to find the course of the voice. There on the other side of the infirmary, with his leg in a cast, stood Will solace, still as unfashionable as ever.

Nico almost teleported to Will, considering how fast he appeared by his side. “ Are you okay? It’s okay, I found out who did it and-”

“-Jesus, Stalin, calm down there.” Will looked at the terrified boy who was in tears. “This kid knows nothing. He wasn’t even there. Were you just putting on some show trials?”

Nico had to resist the twitch in his lips at the communism jokes. Ever since Will had found out that Nico’s weakness was communism jokes, he had been exploiting it, just like the working class were exploited, and using it to his own advantage.

“Wait, this kid wasn’t involved?” Nico looked at all the terrified people in the infirmary, still frozen to their spots, waiting for the go sign for them to continue with their lives.

Will waved his hand. “Go ahead, continue with your business. He will be on his best behaviour now that I’m here.”

“Uh, says who?”

“Says my broken leg.”

On the mention of a broken leg, Nico’s worry instantly returned. His hand reached out to touch Will’s face, in a gesture of affection before quickly snatching it away. Will reached for his hand, took it in his own and intertwined their fingers as in to say It’s okay, they support us. It’s okay, I love you and you love me. It’s okay, I’m not ashamed of being in love with you.

Nico appreciated the gesture and once again, fought the urge to give in to the overwhelming desire to smile at his perfect boyfriend.

“Are you okay? Can you show me your leg? What happened? Why can’t you heal it?” The words began flying out of Nico’s mouth, the concern on his face unhideable. His eyebrows were cutely creased together and he kept on placing his hands all over Will- it was driving him crazy.

“Calm down there, communist. This is my injury, not yours.” Will joked, trying to hide his blush- truth be told, he did not want to tell Nico the real reason behind how he broke his leg because it was honestly the most ridiculous reason one may ever hear in their entire life.

Nico let out a little snort of laughter after hearing another communist joke but was careful to keep it on the downlow. He noticed that Will was being quite indirect and avoiding his gaze: he knew that could only mean one thing.

“What did you do to break your leg?” Nico smirked wickedly, understanding that Will had, once again, been quite idiotic.

Will, gasping in mock offense but also quite embarrassed by how well his own boyfriend knew him, let out a bubble of nervous daughter. “ Hahaa, what do you mean? I broke my leg the same way everyone else does...”

“... which is?”

Due to the vast amount of broken legs he had healed, Will actually knew how to answer this question. “ Through sports.”

“Sports?” Nico snorted. “ You? Sports? Have you ever even run in your entire life? I swear the only thing you do is heal and read. Maybe sleep on the offhand you listen to me.”

“You can’t talk over there!”

“Just tell me how you broke your leg, for the love of the Gods!”

“I was having a competition with Percy for who could heal faster.”

“You were doing what?”

“A competition Nico, have you ever heard of one? Normally the losers forget they exist so I wouldn't be surprised that you had never heard of one-”

“No, I know what a competition is, you idiot. What I don't know is, why on earth you were having a regeneration competition with Percy of all the demigods you could have chosen, you chose the one with the ability to heal themselves as well?”

Will pouted slightly, his eyebrows making a small frown. “I would have thought you would be halfway through murdering Percy right about now.”

“If Percy managed to win, then honestly, you kinda deserved it.”

“I thought you liked me!”

“I thought my boyfriend wasn’t an idiot!”

“Technically I won because Percy was too baby-ish to break his own leg!”

Nico took a very long pause. Slowly, he began shaking his head, from side to side. The expression on his face was illegible but eventually it morphed into one of laughter. His laugh was rich and so was the expression on his face. His lips were curled upwards, his eyes were creasing, with long beautiful dimples on both sides of his face- as clear as the moon on a clear night.

The infirmary was silent. They simply stared at the beautiful angel who graced the place with their voice. They were horrified and in awe. Nico Di Angelo was capable of smiling! He was capable of laughing!

It was a fucking miracle.

“What did I tell you!” Percy yelled, throwing his arm over Annabeth who simply sighed. “I fucking told you! I knew he had dimples!”

Will, slightly stunned, simply took Nico’s face in both his hands. His crystal blue eyes were wide open and to Nico it looked like the ocean was inviting him to take a dive into int’s complex and unknown depths.

Into the unknooooowwwwwnnnnnn.

He cursed himself for that being his first thought. He then cursed Will for making him watch Frozen because it was apparently culturally inappropriate to not have seen it. Then he cursed himself again for cursing Will.

“Holy shit,” Will whispered as he stared into his boyfriends grinning face. “Holy fuck Nico, you never told me you had dimples.”

“Language.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking hell. You cannot smile at me like that Nicolo Di Angelo and expect me to keep my language appropriate. Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?”

“Calm down,” Nico groaned, throwing his head backwards. He could feel his palms getting sweaty from Will’s words- what could he say, he was slightly embarrassed.

“Wait!” Will cried. “ Do it again. Smile again!”

Nico gave a sultry smirk and Will whacked his arm. “ I asked you to smile at me, not seduce me. Smile!”

“Who wouldn't be happy to be seduced by me?”

“Just smile, please!”

Nico sighed before looking at his gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes darted down at the cast around the leg and immediately Nico remembered the cause of injury. He started laughing, his lips stretching into a genuine smile and his dimples flashing all across his face. Will, still holding his boyfriend's face, couldn’t help himself as he brought their lips together.

Will was so used to feeling Nico’s smile when they kissed so when he brought their lips together, he didn't know what he was expecting. It felt different for some reason, it felt more.. It felt better, it felt like he was getting a new piece of Nico. Feeling Nico smile and seeing him smile were two different things and now that he could picture Nico’s smile as he kissed his smiling lips, Will thought he’d explode from happiness.

Will pulled away quickly, his hand still cemented to Nico’s grinning face. He had pulled away just so he could see Nico’s smile and more importantly his dimples again.

“What?” Nico’s innocent voice and grin combined confirmed for Will that if he died on that very spot, he would have died a happy man.

“Holy shit, you’re the cutest person ever.”

And with that, he brought their lips together again.

Neither of them noticed Thalia and Annabeth sulking as they paid up their debts to Percy from losing the bet.

#will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #will solace fanfic #nico di angelo fanfic #solangelo fanfic #solangelo week #solangeloweek2021 #will x nico #nico x will #Nico x will fluff #Nico x Will fanfiction #nico x will fanfic #percy jackson #pjo #thalia grace #annabeth chase #hoo #percy jackson fanfic

[angeloroki]

something more — s. todoroki

you wanted to stop this relationship of friends with benefits, with shoto. before your feelings towards him destroyed you.

— character ; aged up!shoto todoroki x gn!reader

— request ; @tyunsworld angst college au where shoto and yn used to be friends with benefits but yn is trying to stol this fwb but shoto refuses (no smut pls just some indications)

— genre ; angst, au college

— warnings ; suggestive content, curses

— a/n ; i decided to change the ending a bit, i hope it's ok for you and that you like it anyway :)

you were sitting on your bed, in the room you shared with your roommate. she wasn't there, gone to her weekly dance class.

every thursday and tuesday, at 6pm until 8pm sharp. your friend was very punctual, and that suited you perfectly.

because usually, at that time, during those two short hours that you shoto would come and spend some time with you in that room.

it was never anything serious, just a good time that the two of you would give each other. kisses that were worthless, soft caresses yet devoid of feeling, sighs and i love you's that were deprived of love echoed and echoed between the walls of the university room.

it had started only 6 months ago, at a mutual friend's party. todoroki was the rich boy in business school. classy, elegant, handsome, and a smooth talker, he had absolutely every girl on campus at his feet.

so, you could say you were slightly surprised when you saw him accost you in the kitchen, where you were trying to relax a bit. you had hooked up, the discussion was not forced, one thing led to another - and especially under the effect of the euphoria felt at the very moment - you had ended up in bed together. you could remember that it was the best sex of your life. and yet you had had quite a few.

a bitter taste stuck in your mouth.

the day after that night, he had found your number and offered to continue. nothing serious of course, just something where you would both enjoy each other. no empty feelings. he had used a phrase,... friends with benefits, that's the term he had used.

stupidly, you didn't hesitate. because after all, you were young, and you needed to unwind with classes and all. and it's not like you could fall in love with a guy like that.

only you were so wrong.

you slowly came out of your thoughts to look at the time. 6:01 p.m. Your friend had gone out ten minutes ago, so Shoto should be back any minute.

a sigh escaped your lips at the scenario that was about to unfold.

and yet you were the only one to blame, or rather your stupid heart. or maybe your stupid ease of attachment to people who couldn't care less about you.

you lay down and stared at the ceiling.

you knew his weaknesses, what he liked to do on a sunday afternoon, the things that made him angry, just as you knew every inch of his body.

and how the fuck could you not fall in love with him?

a salty taste comes to your lips, tears. you bite your upper lip, silently. and yet you knew it wouldn't be mutual. and it never would be. because he was simply shoto todoroki.

« you spend a lot of time with that boy, what's his name again ? your roommate yells at you from the bathroom. is there something going on between you or something ? »

the heat came flooding in on your cheeks.

« no... no! it's just that we have mutual friends, that's all. »

« yeah sure ! but be careful though, he's known to break hearts this guy [..]. »

that talk you had three months ago echoed ironically in your head. breaking hearts. and yours, by the way.

you go over the plan in your head. before things get hot, you tell him. all at once, well almost all. you just tell him you want out of this relationship.

and so you say everything without pauses, at the risk of crying in front of him. the best thing is that you remain insensitive.

someone knocked on the door. 6:12 pm, he's here.

« y/n, it's me. » he said in his deep voice, which always made you shiver.

you got up and opened the door for him. a small smile lit up his usually stoic face. as you spent more time together, shoto had managed to get more and more comfortable with you, and that could only warm your heart.

« sorry for the delay, the traffic was heavy. »

he went to sit on your bed after taking off his shoes. a worried expression grew on his face when he saw that you said nothing.

« if you're tired, we can meet again next week. i know it's tiring with exams right now. » he said in a kind voice.

could he stop being an angel, just thirty seconds, you said to yourself silently. in just a few steps, you crossed the room and placed a long passionate kiss on his lips, and it was with great pleasure that you felt him respond with the same ardor. you had to feel it one more time before you put an end to this whole mess.

his lips tasted minty, and they were angelically sweet. addictive, that's what his kisses were like. you felt his tongue asking for permission to find yours. and for a few seconds, a feverish waltz settled between your two mouths.

you felt as if long hours had already passed. and you still wanted more to be added, or for time to stand still. but you wouldn't let him go.

and yet.

you shifted from him. he was a mess, his hair untidy from your hands that had to find a support, his face was a dark red.

a small laugh escaped his lips.

« what's this ? a goodbye kiss ? »

you looked away from him. and that's how he understood.

« what ? tell me something. »

« i want to stop this. I'm not interested in our evenings together anymore. »

you didn't need to see him to understand that he was sad now.

« did i do something wrong ? »

his hand came to yours, its warmth melting you.

« no, not at all. i just want to stop this. »

you knew him now, and you knew he'd try to figure out what the problem was. you just needed him to be angry with you, so your feelings for him, the first to be touched, could surely fade. at least you hoped so.

« it's gotten boring with you. you faced him, your gaze now cold. i've grown tired of you, so find someone else to satisfy you. »

his eyes reflected a melancholy that you had never seen in him before.

« y/n, i didn't stay 6 months with you just for sex... i like talking to you. »

your heart skipped a beat. of course, shoto, as a friend.

« that's not my case, todoroki. you were a good lay in bed, and you helped me forget the stress of college. but that's over now, get your shoes and get out. »

despite your command, he didn't make a move. his eyes analyzed you carefully, before his sigh echoed in the room.

« you found someone, didn't you ? you thought you could hear a little regret in his voice, but why ? sorry, i won't bother you anymore then. i'm happy for you. »

he got up and walked to the entrance, where his shoes were.

« i- no... »

how could he not see that you only had eyes for him ? that the other people who were just accosting you, were immediately raked ? a sincere anger went through your body now. you were angry at him now that he didn't notice your love for him.

« i love you. » you said in a quiet voice.

you saw him stop, his back was to you. fuck, that wasn't part of the plan.

« i don't want to see you anymore because i love you. because i know it will never be reciprocated. so please leave. »

he turned around just enough for you to meet his eyes, full of sorrow. a stranger might have thought it was you who had just broken his heart. or maybe you had really broken it ? you'll never know.

« no, y/n. i can try, we can try. it doesn't have to end like this. you're not like the others, i don't want to let you go. »

« i know you can't love me like i love you. don't make promises to me. »

« but i don't want to leave yo- »

the fact that he refused to leave you, to end the relationship, only gave you false hope.

« get the fuck out ! »

your sudden irritation startled him slightly. but he knew you were right.

« i-... i'm sorry y/n.- »

« stop apologizing, it's not your fault. »

« i wish it had ended differently. »

and silently he left your room, leaving you alone with your tears.

your old discussion with your roommate came back to you

« [...] he's known to break hearts this guy. but i have to admit that he's charming, anyway i care too much about my heart and my feelings to make love to him. » said your friend from the bathroom.

« i don't fall so easily, f/n. and stop it, you sound like my parents. you say laughing. »

i wish you would have told me i love you too, shoto todoroki.

#shoto x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x yn #shoto todoroki x you #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #mha x reader #bnha angst #todoroki x y/n #chloe;writing

[a-dusty-emerald]

Crimson Cuddles: Draco x Reader /Fluff

Just a fluff story for your morning Draco x Y/n comfort. (From my Wattpad story)

Crimson Cuddles: In other words, you get your period. _____________________________________________

Draco was tapping his quill on the edge of his desk annoyed, his eyes rolling at each sentence coming out of Professor Babbling's mouth (Ancient runes Prof.). He never cared for this class, he knew what he had to know.

He huffed at Granger's hand that was fluttering up high at each and every question.

'Does this girl snort cocaine every morning?' He thought. The know-it-all bubbly energy of the muggleborn Gryffindor at 8am only added to his temper.

However, the root of his issue was that his girlfriend, Y/n, was nowhere in sight. Class was almost over, so Draco guessed she overslept. She always was such a night-owl either way, so she must have stayed up till late. She rarely missed classes though. He didn't want to drag her to class himself just because she was not being responsible, though.

'I have told her so many times to train her owl to wake her up each morning. Unbelieveable.' He huffed again.

Thankfully Ancient Runes were finally over. Next class was Potions, Y/n's favourite subject. He had a smug look as he took his time going to class. He could already imagine the disheveled look on her face that she actually missed a class, and maybe, maayyybe, he could get her to train the bloody owl.

As he strutted confidently to the Potion's class, he lifted his eyes from his robe to his and Y/n's desk. His smirk fell.

'Where the fuck is she?' He thought. Y/n would not miss potions just for the sake of it. He had to physically detain her from going to class with a high fever a year ago. And then, it dawned on him. 'She must be sick.'

He turned on his heel to go check on her, bumping to Snape who was right behind him. He eyed him, an eyebrow raised at the platinum haired boy.

"Pardon me, Professor." He said coldly and sat on his desk.

Potions were boring for once. Draco had no one to nag him, no one to talk to. As soon as class ended, he said to Blaise that he would catch up later at dinner and sprinted towards the Slytherin's female dormitories.

Pansy had walked out of the entrance just now, and Draco ran to actually manage to get through the door. He walked towards Y/n's room, not knowing what's wrong. He lightly knocked on her door.

He heard a muffled familiar voice speak: "Pansy, I told you already, I don't care which bra you pick." Draco stiffled a laugh, biting his cheek. "Fine then, I'll wear the lacy one" he mimicked Pansy's voice. He heard his girlfriend softly laugh, understanding who she was speaking to. "You can come in, Draco" he heard the muffled voice again.

Draco opened the door slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Has she not been out of bed yet? It was past 10am now. "Darling?"

"Yes?" Y/n's small voice was heard from under the fluffy covers. Draco suppressed a short laugh and sat at the edge of her bed.

"You alright?"

Y/n's head finally emerged from the covers and draco got a good look of her. Her skin seemed pale, her eyes tired and her hair was a mess. Y/n looked at draco, who might have been smirking at her state, but she saw a glint of worry in his eyes.

"I'm fine" she finally spoke. Draco said nothing, only leaned backwards and crossed his arms on his chest, a blonde eyebrow reaching higher than his hairline - or so it seemed. He was not satisfied with the answer. After a prolonged silence, he huffed and spoke again.

"Sure you are darling. Peachy as ever." He smirked again at her inability to lie to him.

"...What I meant is I am not ill. I'm on my period, I don't feel great. Quite bad actually. Didn't wanna bother you", she said as she slumped back into the covers, closing her eyes again.

His smirk fell. For the jackass he could be, he knew quite a few things about periods, Narcissa had informed him from a young age about the basics. He would never be insensitive to his girl, of all people. He had her 'female issue' supplies in his room as well, in case she stayed over.

"Your wellbeing is not bothering me. Do you need anything?"

He saw her eyes glimmer, peaking through the covers. "Can I come to your room? I want to take a shower and cuddle. Have left my conditioner at yours as well." She said.

"Sure, come on, lets get to my room." He threw the covers off her in one motion, and she shivered, her source of heat violently being taken from her. She was crouched in a fetal position, her hands pressed on her lower abdomen. She hissed in pain, as she felt a horrible cramp passing through her.

Draco frowned. He hated seeing her in pain. He inched closer to her to cuddle her, but Y/n was determined to get out of bed.

"No no, later. I need to get up. It's not doing me any good. I need to shower." She muttered as she forced herself out of bed, threw a cardigan over her pyjamas,put her hair in a quick ponytail to hide the frizziness and made her way to the boy's dormitories, clutching Draco's arm along the way.

Once she got in the -much bigger and fancier- room, she immediately locked herself in the bathroom, stripping out her silky pyjamas and hopping in the shower. She let the hot water relax her muscles,the steam putting her in a drowsy state. As she lathered her coconut shampoo in her hair and reached for her boyfriend's body wash, green apple scented, she silently laughed on his obsession with green apples, when she heard of him outside the door.

"Imma make us some tea. Alright?" "Sure!" She spoke as loudly as she could, in order to be heard over the sound of the water.

Stepping out of the shower, she found a pair of clean underwear waiting for her next to a brand new box of tampons and smiled.

'If only Blaise would see Draco making her tea and providing her tampons, he would tease him for eternity' she smirked, giggling to herself. Blaise was her best friend, telling him a few details of his oh-so-rare soft side would give him enough teasing opportunities for the whole semester. Draco's well known soft spot was her, he always had his stone cold persona around the guys and Blaise was always ready to hear stories that prove a point they all knew; the platinum haired boy was nowhere near emotionless or insensitive.

Draco opened his room's door carefully holding 2 mugs of hot tea, finding a more relaxed, but still in insufferable pain Y/n. She was wearing one of his hoodies and some high knee warm fuzzy socks, and he could not control the smile that crept over his lips.

"What?" Y/n said curiously, seeing him smiling at her. "Love it when you're wearing my clothes. You are honestly so cute". Y/n slightly blushed and faced the other way.

Draco made his way to bed, handing her her mug. He took a sip and spoke "I read tea is good for the pain. Warmth in general. So if you want to cuddle my hot as fuck body, understandable. It's available."

"Oh is it?" Y/n jokinly answered, her eyebrow raised playfully.

"Yup" he said. "Do not take it for granted though. Other women will be qeueing for the Malfoy cuddling experience later today." He smirked.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Y/n said calmly. "I will castrate you and send your balls to your oh-so-friendly father, letting him know his lineage is lost forever".

Draco was audibly laughing, while his arm cradled Y/n's small body. Her face suddently went from a teasing expression to a scrunched up, pained one.

He frowned again. If he could take some of the pain, he would. "Another cramp?"

He heard a muffled nod from Y/n's head on his shoulder, and pressed a few kisses on her exposed neck, his arms hugging her even closer to him. His fingers snaked their way under her shirt and pressed in her lower abdomen, slowly massaging the area. He heard a shruddered breath come out of her, and didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing, continuing nevertheless. He stopped however, when he felt dampness on his neck. He pulled himself back to look at her. She had been crying.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked full of worry. "Sorry if I did, thought it would be better-"

Y/n furiously shook her head. "No, I'm just in a lot of pain, got a bit emotional that you are taking care of me. Stupid hormones..." Y/n mumbled, her face flushed.

Draco smiled and wiped her tear away. "Shhh, 'ts alright darling. Come here." He pulled her back in their previous position.

"Please continue whatever magic you were doing. Your fingers are proven to be magical today."

"I think you knew that beforehand, darling."

She could practically HEAR the smirk, so she smacked him lightly in his shoulder, as Draco showered her with kisses. He opened a box near his bed, getting a chocolate frog out and giving it to Y/n.

"Thank you." She smiled at him, and pressed a sweet peck at his lips.

As soon as she ate it, he removed one of his hands from her abdomen and grabbed his mug to finish the last bit of tea that was left. Placing the mug back, he felt her head in his chest getting heavier. She was drifting off to sleep, painfree, feeling relaxed in his embrace, and Draco was sure this image alone could let him cast a Patronus if he tried.

The next day, Blaise teased the fuck out of Draco as he huffed annoyed. He should have never let them be friends.

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FEEL FREE TO LIKE AND SHARE! Love you all, feedback always welcome!

#fanfiction #slytherin #Draco #dracomalfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x oc #hogwarts #fluff #period #period fic #comfort #Gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #dracotok #fanfic #wizard

[lancermylove]

Teenager MC 4 (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Platonic hcs with all boys.

Warning: Mentions of depression, self-harm, scars, and insomnia.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can you do an obey me with. A teenage mc who suffers from insomnia, depression and sh(old scars and new cuts) I saw in the last post you said Simeon was well with teenagers so I was wondering if you could do all the boys but if not then the brothers and Simeon? Sorry you don’t have to I’m just looking for some comfort right now

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Anon and anyone who is depressed and/or self-harms....life is difficult and there are times where it’s too much to handle, but please reach out for help. By no means am I saying this just to say something (or preaching) because I know how you feel as I have been suffering from depression for quite a few years now and also have insomnia. I can’t bring myself to talk to anyone because I feel like I would burden them, and I hate going to the doctor due to multiple negative experiences in the past and because they charge way too much. Recently, I came to a realization that I can’t keep going like this and have been trying to push myself out of the darkness. It is difficult, especially since I have an unhealable chronic injury that gives/has been giving me a lot of pain for years. BUT, I refuse to let the pain win. I have been quietly suffering for a long time, and it’s not a good place to be in, so PLEASE reach out to someone if you can or at least try. You can also find creative outlets to help distract yourself. My outlets are writing and art. 

———————————————

Prologue:

He noticed that there was something wrong but didn’t give it much thought. Humans are different than demons and angels, so he brushed it off as a human thing. He realized that he may have to look into the issue when he saw you wandering aimlessly at night. Multiple times.

He asked you if something was wrong, but you said everything was fine. He noticed that your mood would change often, and that you weren’t eating properly and weren’t talking much. He once again asked you if something was wrong, but your answer remained the same. 

This went on for a while, until he reached his patience limit. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? I don’t want to hear ‘everything is fine’.”

But you still gave the same answer, much to his annoyance. Then, he grabbed your hand, accidentally pushing your sleeve up. Red, purple, blue, brown, and cream stained your wrist and forearm. You managed to pull away your hand, but he got the answers he was looking for.  

——————————————— 

Lucifer

His pride is hurt because he wasn’t able to stop you from hurting yourself; moreover, that it took him so long to figure it out.

Luci takes you to his study and asks why you are doing this to yourself but doesn’t push you to answer. 

If he sees that you’re hesitating, he assures you that he only wants to help you.

The Avatar of Pride sets aside his seemingly aloof personality and opens up a new, softer side to you. A side that not even his brothers have seen.

He tells you that you are not alone, and he’s here for you.

Luci asks you to promise that if you feel like hurting yourself or if you’re sad, you will come talk to him. He even says to come to his room if you can’t sleep or can’t get your mind to calm down.

Lucifer realizes that this is not something he can help you with overnight and is fully prepared to stay by your side as long as you need him to.

Before he sends you to your room, he pulls you into a firm hug and whispers, “I care for you more than you think and seeing you hurt yourself pains me.” 

Mammon

He is speechless. As the first demon to make a contract with you, he thought he knew you better than anyone else.

It hurt him that you didn’t think of talking to him or even consider coming to him. 

Mammon ends up crying...a lot. 

“Mammon?” 

He wipes his tears and nose with the sleeve of his jacket, “Y-you thought I wou-wouldn’t care, right? Do I have to spell it out that I c-care about you more than anyone e-else.” 

He cups your cheeks in his hands and presses his forehead against yours, “(Y/N), why are you hurting yourself? Are you in that much pain? You know you can talk to me and share your pain with me, right?”

Mammon pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms tightly around you, “Cry if you need to. Hit me if you need to. Yell if you need to. But don’t hurt yourself.” 

He insists on staying in your room, and even if you say no, he’s not going to take no for an answer. The Avatar of Greed has made up his mind that he’s going to help you through this no matter what.

Levi

He freezes and starts to feel lightheaded.  

Levi knows what it feels like to be depressed and to have a low self-esteem. He knows what it feels like to be looked down upon. He knows what it feels like for life to be constantly unfair. He knows... 

He knew there were others out there who felt like him, but never once did it crossed his mind that you, the only normie he dearly cares about, would be like him.

Levi takes hold of your hand and takes you to his room. He sits you in his gaming chair and pulls a spare chair next to yours before handing you a controller. 

While the two of you play, he mumbles, “Who knew my normie was just like me? Now, we can be sad together...but normie, know that I will not let you hurt yourself.” 

He glances at you with a small smile, “If something happens to my norm-friend, I don’t know what I would do.”   

Asmo

He gasps and covers his mouth, “What did you do to your beautiful skin?” 

It takes Asmo a second to realize that his question may have been insensitive. No, that was not his intention, but beauty is very important to him.

He apologizes for his question before taking you to his room. “My dear, what’s wrong? Why are you doing this to yourself? You may not want to talk about such a delicate subject, but I really want to know. Please, tell me.” 

If you choose to tell him, Asmo will lend you an ear, but if you don’t talk, he gently nudges you until you talk. If you cry, he lends you a shoulder and rubs circles on your back.

“No matter what you need, I am here for you. I will gladly listen to you and help you in any way I can. I promise.” He places a hand on top of yours, “Let me take care of you and your health.” 

Asmo places a friendly kiss on the top of your head. “You may not feel like it, but please allow me to pamper you for the day. We can go shopping, get our hair and nails done, and go to the spa. How does that sound?”

Satan

He has read so many books that he’s familiar with the ways of humans. It doesn’t take him long to know how and why those scars and cuts got there. 

Satan sighs. He knows he can be scary when he’s angry, being the Avatar of Wrath and all, but is he really that scary? To the point where you wouldn’t be comfortable talking to him about your pain?

He wanted to ask you if you were scared of him, but he knew this was neither the right time nor the right place; instead, Satan places a hand on your shoulder and asks one question, “Would you trust me enough to share your feelings with me?”

Whether you say yes or no, he assures you that he will not judge you in any way. 

He takes you to his room and tells you to wait for him. In a few minutes, he returns with an unusual colored concoction. 

“Drink this. I know you have not been sleeping properly. Let’s worry about everything else tomorrow, but for tonight, drink this and rest.”

He sits in his reading chair and watches you sleep. “I am sorry for not realizing that you were in pain. Starting from tomorrow, I promise to stay by your side.”  

Beel 

He is extremely confused seeing the scars, new and old alike. 

Beel thinks that one of the lesser demons hurts you and is more than ready to destroy the one responsible.

When he asks you who caused these injures, you reply no one. He pushes you a little to tell him how you got those injures. 

Not answering his question, you walk away, leaving Beel even more puzzled. He decides to ask one of his brothers but leaves your name out. 

After Beel learns the reason, he comes barging into your room, and without thinking one, he bear hugs you. 

“W-why would you hurt yourself?” He asks, tears filling his eyes. “Please don’t...if you’re sad, then tell me what I can do to make you happy.”

Beel looks you in the eyes and says innocently, “I will give you all my food if it makes you happy. You can even use me as a punching bag if you need to get your emotions out. Don’t worry, your punches won’t hurt me.” 

The Avatar of Glutton draws you into another embrace and pleads that you stay in his and Belphie’s room. “We will have fun and eat a lot of good food!” 

Belphie

The usual sleepiness and fatigue that surrounds him quickly disappears. He has never felt so awake or alert in his life. 

“(Y/N), what’s bothering you to the point where you would go this far?” He waits for you to answer but continues talking when you remain silent, “I know you haven’t known me as long as my brothers and may not trust me fully, but I care for you.” 

Belphie takes a firm hold of your hand and studies your face. “I can tell you haven’t not been sleeping. What do you say we take a nap? Naps always make me feel better, so it may help you too.” 

While taking you to his room, he looks at you, “We can talk about this when you’re ready...but don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

Belphie’s hug and warmth lull you to sleep in no time. 

Diavolo

Various expressions dance across the Demon King’s face - anger, sadness, confusion, and pain.

Anger because he failed to notice earlier, sadness and pain because he dislikes seeing you suffering, and confusion because he can’t understand why you would harm yourself.

In many conversations related to the human world, he has heard that the world of humans can be ruthless. Humans say that demons only dwell in hell, but from what Diavolo has heard, he believes demons also exist in the human world.

“I am not sure what to do as I have never faced such a situation, but please allow me to share my feelings with you.” He places a hand on the top of your head, “Having you hear in Devildom makes me happy. You are far different than what I imagined humans to be like.” 

He studies your expressions before speaking once more, “Many demons in Devildom disagreed with my decision to invite a human to RAD, but despite their protests, I stood firm. Now, I can say I made the right choice by inviting you here.” 

Diavolo gently touches your cheek, “I have found a friend in you, and I hope you have found a friend in me. If you have, then please share your feelings with me, be it happiness, sadness, pain, or confusion. I promise to listen to you and will do anything for you. Even if you ask me for the most difficult thing you can think of, I will bring it for you.” 

Barbatos

This was one of the possibilities he had seen in the many doors in his room.

He dearly hoped that he would never have to encounter this moment, but here it was. 

Barbatos had prepared himself in case it may come true, but all his preparation was for naught. Seeing the cuts had made him forget everything. 

He wasn’t one to take feelings into account, and he wasn’t qualified to handle these situations. In this mind, Simeon, Solomon, and even Lucifer could help you a lot more than he could. 

But, he also couldn’t let this continue.

“I realize that I may not express myself nor do I seem friendly, but if you wish to talk, I shall lend you an ear.” 

His usual stoic expression was nowhere in sight; instead, an unexpected softness found its way on his face. 

“Shall we talk over a cup of tea? I have baked your favorite dessert. I hear that humans believe when one is down, they should consume sugar to brighten their mood.” 

Simeon

Simeon winces. Even though you pulled your sleeve over the scars and cuts, the image stays in his mind. 

It pains him to learn that you have been suffering...possibly all alone. 

He asks you a series of questions to learn the reason behind harming yourself. Are demons hurting you? Do you not like it in Devildom? Is something bothering you? How long have you been hurting yourself?

Though he wants to ask more, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. 

Simeon takes you to Purgatory Hall and asks you to stay there with him. 

While making you a cup of calming tea, he says, “You are a strong, beautiful, and kindhearted person. You don’t deserve pain...you deserve all the happiness in the world.” 

He hands you the cup and smiles softly, “Drink this. It will help you. I am not familiar with the human world, but my dear, as your friend, I am here for you.”

Simeon sits next to you and gives you a warm, heartfelt hug. “Think of me as your guardian angel and share your pain with me. In return, I promise to listen to you and always watch over you.”

Solomon

His first thought is to brew a potion for you to help with your pain, but he stops himself.

Solomon knows that rather than thinking like a sorcerer in this situation, he should think like a human first. 

“If it’s not too much to ask, will you tell me what bothers you?” He asks in a tender voice, “The demons may have told you that I am not trustworthy, but do believe me when I say I care about you.” 

Upon further examining your face, he deduces from your dark circles that you have not been sleeping properly. He also realizes that you may be depressed which would explain sleeplessness and self-harm. 

Sighing quietly, he brings you back to Purgatory Hall and asks Luke to stay with Simeon for the time being. 

If at that time you talk, Solomon listens to you without an ounce of judgment, but if you wish to stay quiet, Solomon decides to try again later.

For the time being, he hands you a potion and explains, “This concoction will help calm your mind and help you sleep. If your insomnia is left unchecked, your health will further decline.” 

He helps you remove your shoes and pulls a blanket over your body. “I will be here for you when you wake up. Rest well and sweet dreams, (Y/N).”

Solomon avoids telling you that he added a special ingredient to the potion - an ingredient that will give you pleasant dreams...happy dreams.   

Luke

He is shocked to see the injuries and doesn’t understand; in fact, he’s traumatized. 

Luke doesn’t say anything and just stands there, even after you walk away.

For the next few days, he has trouble sleeping at night and ends up asking Simeon a few questions. 

Luke gets angry at the demons for not taking proper care of you, but for your sake, he doesn’t say anything to them. 

He shows up at your doorstep unannounced with a basket full of baked goods. 

Luke doesn’t ask about your scars/cuts as he assumes it would be rude, instead he asks, “Do you think of me as your friend?” 

Regardless of what you answer, he says, “I am here for you whenever you need you...even if you don’t need me.” 

He takes a tight hold of your hand and looks at you with tears. “I want to be your guardian angel, so please let me be.” 

———————————————

➣Obey Me Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me luke

[tigerdrop]

so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go

i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack

anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath

Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.

"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.

Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else.  In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.

> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.

> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.

> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")

> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.

> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.

> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"

> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.

Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."

He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.

He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.

"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."

Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.

> Food? Nap? Bath?

> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"

> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.

> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).

> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.

> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.

> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."

He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"

> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.

> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"

Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"

What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--

No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"

He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.

> Benrey blinks.

> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.

> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.

> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.

> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.

> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.

> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.

> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.

Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.

He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.

Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.

"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"

> "Huh?"

> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?

> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?

> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.

> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."

"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"

Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.

...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.

> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.

> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.

> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.

> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."

> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.

> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished.  A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."

> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.

Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.

Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.

"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.

But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.

Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.

His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.

"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.

> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.

> "Cool."

> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.

> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.

> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.

> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--

> Click.

> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.

> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.

Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--

Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.

Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.

He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.

"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.

> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.

> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.

> Lower back.

> His ass.

> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.

> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...

> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.

> "Cute."

> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.

Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.

Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver.  He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.

It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.

Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.

"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?

After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?" Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.

> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.

> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.

> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.

> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."

Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.

At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.

"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."

Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."

As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.

> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."

> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.

> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--

> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."

> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.

> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."

Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.

That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:

Oh, God.

Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.

It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.

"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.

He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."

There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."

> "Wha?"

> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.

> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"

> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--

> Wait.

> "Privacy?"

> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.

> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"

> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.

> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."

Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.

Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.

"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.

The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.

As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.

Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.

> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.

> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.

> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.

> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.

> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.

> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--

> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...

> And...

> "Cute."

> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.

> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.

"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.

Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.

Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.

"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."

> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.

> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.

> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.

> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--

> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.

> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?

> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.

> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."

> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.

> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."

> The words come out before he can stop them.

> Goddammit.

Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.

Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.

The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.

The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)

"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."

> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.

> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.

> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.

> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.

> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."

> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.

> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."

> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.

A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.

In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".

Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.

Cute. Fun size.

"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.

This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...

Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.

Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.

"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."

> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.

> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.

> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.

> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"

> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.

> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.

> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.

> He is not a fan.

"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.

The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.

Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.

He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.

> Oh. Oh.

> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.

> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.

> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.

> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--

> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."

> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--

> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."

> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--

> "Uh."

> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.

> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."

Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.

And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.

Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.

"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.

He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.

Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.

"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."

> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.

> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."

> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...

> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.

> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.

> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.

> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."

> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--

> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!

> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."

> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?

> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.

> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."

Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.

Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.

So why did he stop himself?

When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.

Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.

That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.

Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.

Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.

That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.

It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."

> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.

> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.

> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

> Bathing Gordon.

> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."

> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.

> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.

> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."

> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.

> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...

> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--

> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"

Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.

Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"

After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."

> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.

> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.

> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.

> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.

> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.

> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.

> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.

> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.

> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.

"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.

It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.

That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.

Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.

Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.

After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."

And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.

> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.

> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...

> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.

> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.

> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.

> "Holy shit."

Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."

He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.

Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...

Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)

In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.

He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.

"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.

> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.

> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.

> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.

> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."

> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.

> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"

> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.

> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.

> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."

Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.

On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...

He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.

And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.

But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.

And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.

And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.

He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.

So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,

"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."

> Wait. Was that...?

> Was that admission?

> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.

> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.

> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"

> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.

> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."

> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.

> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."

> A pause.

> "Laugh, please."

Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.

Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.

Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.

"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"

> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.

> Their own secret language of want.

> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.

> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.

> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."

A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.

It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".

"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"

He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.

At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.

"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"

> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.

> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.

> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."

> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.

> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?

> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.

> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"

Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.

"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"

He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--

And--

Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.

"You know," he finishes weakly.

> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"

> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.

> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--

> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.

> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.

> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."

He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.

Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.

Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.

"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.

God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.

Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.

Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!

Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"

As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.

> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...

> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?

> Yeah. He feels wanted.

> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.

> Their game.

> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."

> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.

> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.

> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."

> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.

> His mouth snaps shut.

> Awkward.

Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."

Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.

Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.

But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."

> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."

> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.

> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...

> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."

> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.

> He sounds unconvincing.

> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."

Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.

"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.

The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.

But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.

But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.

> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.

> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.

> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"

> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.

> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.

> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.

> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."

Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.

"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"

> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.

> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.

> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.

> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.

> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.

Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.

"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."

When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.

And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.

And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"

And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.

Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.

Fuck.

> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.

> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.

> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."

> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.

> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.

Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.

When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.

"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"

His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.

His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--

He can't--

Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.

"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"

It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.

> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."

> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.

> Benrey likes to play with his food.

> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.

> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.

> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.

> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.

> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.

> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.

"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.

He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.

"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"

Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to.  Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.

Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.

Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"

He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.

> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.

> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"

> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.

> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.

> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.

> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.

> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.

Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.

It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.

Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.

Oh.

He's hard.

Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.

"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"

Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.

And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.

> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.

> "Huh?"

> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.

> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"

> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.

> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"

> A pause, a laugh.

> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."

Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.

"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.

Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)

And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.

#writin stuff #please clap.

[shawty-writes-a-little]

Chapter 6

Note: I wrote this chapter for two hours and it’s suddenly 4 am

Warnings: None just fluff

Word count: 1.6k

They took y/n inside to a tent, followed by the general. The healers places her on the bed and started performing that usual practises. Checked pulses, blood pressure, heart rate. General stood there through the whole process until they wanted to check further.

One of the healers turned to him with “general.“ she said pointing to y/n and glanced at the exit of the tent.

General was blank what she was indicating to “Yes?”

“W—We have to check her.”

He sighed and stood there firmly “well go on! who’s stopping you?”

“We have to take off her clothes, do you mind?” She said hesitating.

General cleared his throat and nodded “Call me immediately once you’re done.” He said stepping outside of the tent.

—

It had been evening since y/n gained consciousness. Turns out over using her power and lack of practise resulted in being unconscious for, well 12 hours. General had been checking in on her every hour.

Y/n was lying on bed she had been placed on, quite a shock to herself. Given everything she had done in ketterdam she fainted out of lack of energy? Maybe because she didn’t have to use her powers that much pack there? She kept staring around the room with all these thoughts before the general stepped in. More like barged in.

“Miss y/n!” He said out a sheer relief to himself seeing her awake.

“General.” She sat up letting out a groan form lying in the bed.

“Oh no no please—you need rest.” He told her walking to her beside.

Y/n shook her head and chuckled slightly “it’s alright”

“So? Do you feel better?” He asked sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah-I feel much better..”

“That’s pleasant to hear.” He said giving her a smile.

“Yeah-“ she nodded not knowing what to say.

“I—“ he cleared his throat “I wanted to apologise for earlier.”

“For?” She asked blankly.

“I yelled at you insensitively before-just because I couldn’t swallow my defeat.” He said meeting up her gaze.

Yelling at each other because you don’t agree with them? Nothing new at the crow club she thought. “Oh-That? It’s fine.”

“No it wasn’t-it wasn’t right at the slightest of me to treat you that way.” He admitted.

“I mean it, it’s quite alright.” She shrugged.

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” He asked with a generous look.

“General like I said it’s not-“

“Alecksandar. Call me alecksandar.”

He cut her off trying to sound as smooth as possible.

“Alecksandar?”

He nodded smiling looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Alright well for now can you just fetch me a cup of water? My whole body screams in pain if I move.” She said with a sarcastic remark.

He stood up to and walked to the table, poured her a glass of water and walked back to the bed she was sitting on. “You said you were alright?” He asked handing her the glass.

“Thanks! I am. It will go away with a good sleep.”

“Ah well maybe I was right with you lacking training. We’ll have train more once we get back.” He said chuckling.

“What? No-I am properly trained.” She said in a stiff voice.

He sat to the edge of her bedside again but closed this time. “Yes of course, it explains all this.” He teased again.

“Well your training ways are pretty stupid!”

“Pardon?” He said raising a brow.

“They’re stupid.” Y/n admitted mockingly shrugging her shoulders trying not to laugh.

“That’s harsh, they’re not!” He added a sarcastic gasp.

She hit his elbow playfully “sorry to break it to you then.” She hit him again laughing as an annoyed expression was spread across his face.

“Stop it-“

She hit him again with a pillow this time. He had enough now. Alecksandar pushed the pillow away from her and gripped her wrists bringing her closer and a giggle escaped her mouth had he looked into her eyes heartily.

After a while he let go off her wrists still having her face just as close to his not breaking eye contact.

“Y/n...” he whispered. “I’m about to do something very stupid.”

“I like stupid things.” She said smiling.

Before y/n knew he leaned in and crashed his lips onto hers. Cupping her cheeks, she smiled into the kiss as he brushed his lips onto hers.

He broke the kiss to look at her and they were both grinning like children, none of them knew what to say but to look at each other and smile-it wasn’t awkward it was just stupid between them.

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” Alecksandar said with a smirk and stood up.

Y/n nodded at him with a wide grin spread across her face as he bent to plant a peck on her cheek before leaving the tent.

For a while y/n kept blushing to what just happened lying in the bed, but the it hit her what is she going to do when they get back?

——

Y/n and alecksandar hadn’t talked after yesterday yet. Moreover y/n had avoided talking to him until she could figure out what would she tell her friends? Would this even work out nevertheless? The other day when they reached back to the little palace alecksandar had shown eager attempts to talk to y/n, sometimes he would be snatched away to war meetings, sometimes y/n would slip away with an excuse. Y/n didnt plan to do this for long just until she could talk to Jesper. Obviously she decided not to tell kaz and Inej about it rather scared of the outcome. Kaz may plan to leave the very day with our without plan. Inej might as well just loose her mind and threaten to kill the general if he tried to come near her. Y/n avoided alecksandar until she could talk to Jesper who was nowhere to be found she did talk to Kaz and Inej when she returned. Even told them about what happened with the white walkers Kaz not that amused, as long as it wasn’t gonna affect him why would he be? Inej on the other hand was stunned with it. She refused believe when y/n said she killed a white Walker.

It was evening now and y/n finally got hold of Jesper, he came to meet her himself and hugged her tightly. After a moment she pulled away from the hug and looked at him.

“I’ve been looking all over for you for the whole day! Where were you?” She said with an annoyed tone.

“Kaz sent me to get a raven to send letters.”

“A Raven?” Y/n asked confused.

“Yes turns out, the letters kaz had been sending out for months never left little palace.”

“What? They’re not sending out the letters?”

“That’s why the Raven.”

“Wait but who is he sending these letters to?” Y/n asked as they walked by the corridors.

“Hell if he’d ever tell anyone about his plans.” Jesper snorted.

“Ah who am I kidding? It’s Kaz-hey but how did you get a raven?”

“D-don’t ask.” Jesper said with a disgusted look on his face.

“Oh—alright-I need to talk to you about something.”

“Yes?”

“Not here.” She walked both of them to the garden making sure no one was around. “Promise me you can’t tell kaz and Inej.”

“You killed someone?” Jesper asked with a common expression.

“No-why would I come to you if I did?” She said putting emphasis on you.

“Point. Don’t tell me you broke kaz’s cane again? You’ve only been back for a day y/n!”

“I didn’t! Just promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Oh-well then it can’t be that bad I promise you I won’t tell them.”

Y/n told him about her and alecksandar, about what happened and Jesper didn’t say anything even until after she finished narrating.

“Jesper?” Y/n asked nervously what he might say.

“YOU KISSED THE GENERAL?!” He said looking shocked.

“SHH—Jesper! Someone will hear you!”

She shushed him.

“You kissed the general?!” He whispered this time with the same tone.

“He kissed me-well-“ y/n said trying to sound defensive.

Jesper just gave her a really displeased look that read “are you kidding me” on his face.

“Alright alright-we kissed.” Y/n admitted.

“I don’t know if this is or is not worse than breaking kaz’s cane.” Jesper said scoffing.

“Not the time for jokes.”

“Have you talked to the general yet?”

“About what?”

“About ravaka’s future.” Jesper made a sarcastic comment to with y/n narrowed her eyes. “About the two of you. Certainly he doesn’t know we plan to run off does he?”

“That’s why! See-so I don’t know what to do about it now!” Y/n said with a sigh.

“Do you like him?” Jesper asked.

“I shouldn’t.” Y/n admitted dryly.

“Well-he did try to kill us, but he does have a pretty face.”

“And hes a good kisser.” Y/n said blushing to which Jesper rolled his eyes.

“Look—its gonna take kaz more time with letters sent by ravens so in the mean time....” he said shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re not suggesting—“

“We’re eitherways running away eventually but till then you can maybe not break General good kisser’s heart. I mean what’s the harm if you like him back?” Jesper said raising his brows.

“That’s actually not a bad advise Jesper. Coming from you—“ y/n teased.

“Fine then I’ll just tell kaz and Inej.” Jesper said turning back and y/n grabbed his arm.

“Okay no no no-that was a great advise thank you Jesper.”

“Anytime. Just don’t do something stupid hmm?”

“I won’t.”

———

Tag list 🏷

@lazycherri @aleksanderwh0r3 @mygardenmentality @supernaturalcat7 @mizelophsun11 @edithsvoice @lilmaymayy

#jesper fahey #inej ghafa #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #six of crows #ben barnes #nina zenik #alecksandar #brekker by brekker #general kirigan #the darkling #the darkling x y/n #darklina #ben barnes x reader #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova

[animated-moon]

dating oikawa hcs

warnings: oikawa being a pretty boy

a/n: the things i’d do to be his friend 😪😪

☆。*。☆。

before

» you were actually the manager of karasuno (oh no)

» during their joint practice oikawa tried to talk to you because you didn’t really seem like a bad person and in fact he thinks you’re quite interesting based off on the interactions you had with the team

» but also because he noticed that you were staring at him 50% of the time (i mean who wouldn’t)

» so when you were handing out the bottles to both the teams he was like “hii karasuno’s manager-chan :D”

» and you were like “who are you”

» oiks:🗿

» “i’m the captain of aoba johsai, oikawa tooru! hello :D”

» “ohhhh you’re haji’s best friend, right?”

» oiks: 😀😄😀 bcus you called iwa “haji”?????

» turns out you were staring at iwa the entire time

» you were distant relatives but he didn’t know that

» immediately turns to iwa with tHaT (😒) look

» “i didn’t know you knew iwa-chan?”

» “oh, it’s fine. how would you have known?” and you unintentionally gave him a sly smirk and then he misunderstood EVERYTHING

» “oh. okay. sorry.” *walks away stoically*

» when you disappeared he was like “iWA-CHANNNN YOU DIDN’T TELL US YOU HAD A CUTE S/O!!!”

» poor iwa was so confused because he ain’t got no hoes and oikawa was shaking him too much for him to process anything

» then at this point you appeared again and handed iwa’s bottle to him and oikawa gave you the 👁👁 look until you started speaking

» “oh yea, tell aunt i said hi. we haven’t talked in a long while.”

» oikawa: 🤨☝️

» “aunt?”

» *iwa realizes who the cute s/o oikawa was talking about is* “tHEY’RE MY COUSIN YOU-”

» after the practice you and iwa caught up w each other before they left and the entire team started bombing iwa with questions about his cute cousin

» oikawa was strangely quiet but iwa didn’t question it

» meanwhile in oikawa’s brain:

» “cAN’T BELIEVE IWA HAD A CUTE COUSIN AND DIDN’T INTRODUCE US >:(”

» “this is betrayal and i will not talk to him any longer”

» “wait no he’s my best friend”

» “well not anymore 😤😤”

» lowkey a petty king 

» after that though, when you went to hang out w iwa you began seeing oikawa more and more

» and the thing is it wasn’t even on purpose- he just appeared at all the right places at the right times

» but oikawa also found himself intrigued by you because you showed no sign of swooning over him like other people did

» everyone would like a breath of fresh air, but he wanted more than just a breath (me failing to be deep)

» asked iwa for your number and got it along with multiple death threats in case oiks was up to no good

» as you started talking, you slowly caught feelings because he was actually really really sweet, albeit a little narcissistic

» he also provides really good comfort when you’re upset and not in the slightest insensitive of your emotions

» he caught feelings because once he accidentally overshared and unloaded all his frustrations in your chat

» he thought you’d not wanna be his friend anymore after finding out what a horrible human being he was under his happy, smiley mask :(

» but that truth only made you stick by his side even more

» when the karasuno vs seijoh match came y’alls were really close already so that made you ???

» you really wanna support karasuno but oiks!!! you knew just how much it would mean to oikawa if he defeated kageyama

» on the actual day you stood w karasuno but you had secretly given oiks a good luck charm and pecked his cheek before running away

» you saw him stare at you and caress his cheek and literally flamed up

» he really wanted to win the match to assure himself that he was better than kageyama and also, your hope was with him, so how could he lose?

» when the match ended and he lost tho, he was so, so, so, upset and his self destructive thoughts came crashing down

» you rushed out to find him outside the stadium on the brink of tears

» the first thing he said when he saw you was “sorry”

» ????

» “sorry i couldn’t live up to your standards and win the game”

» well that hurts

» you took after iwa’s trait of not being able to express your feelings so you just hugged him. tightly.

» “it’s not your fault.”

» with that he broke down and continued to for the next half hour or so

» after he stopped crying you guys just sat in silence and he was basically rethinking his life choices

» which was when he spontaneously held your hand and leaned in closer to you

» you: ?$/9;&294&48,!’!&!-&/&;&,@/“”-&:$,!:)?3&;)

» then he just waited for you to close the gap and obvs you got the meaning and did it

» you both were lost in a kiss when

» “oI SHITTYKAWA WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY COUSIN”

» “...🙂...rUN (Y/N)-CHAN-”

» but after that you hunted him down at seijoh and talked it all out w him

» congradulashions you got yourself a boyfie 🕺✨

» iwa was 🤬🤬 but at the same time 🥺🤲✨🤩🥳

during

» no one at karasuno knew you were dating oikawa

» so when he came to karasuno to fetch you for your date, a riot started

» hinata was shaking you because “y/N-SAN YOU WERE DATING THE GREAT KING?”

» kageyama: *death glaring oikawa*

» tanaka and noya busy threatening oikawa to treat you right or they’ll [redacted]

» suga and daichi trying to calm everyone down (suga actually went to ask you about it after because he got a lil curious)

» tsukki, narita and ennoshita: 👬🏻🧍🏼‍♂️ we been knew tho

» yams: the only one congratulating you two to last long (asahi came later because he was lowkey scared of you people)

» kinoshita: *proud smile and thumbs up from afar*

» oikawa just enjoying this riot and kidnapping you when he finally had the chance to

» being with oikawa naturally gave you tons of unwanted attention

» about 90% of his fans gave you murderous glares when you walked past

» and you guys had at least 10 arguments (big and small) about his fans being too friendly or HIM being too friendly

» he always apologizes after because he knows just how insecure he made you :(

» a big sweetheart and cutie <3

» he isn’t afraid to show you affection so pda is fine but he never goes overboard or embarrass you in public (actually he might but)

» loves to tangle your arms or hands together!! it gives him a sense of security

» likes to nuzzle his head into your neck

» he’ll always hover around you when you’re in school so that you don’t get assaulted by any of his crazy fans

» shows and brags to everyone about how YOU’RE his s/o and how amazing you are

» makes narcissistic comments sometimes but it’s lowkey funny

» iwa’s always being THAT brother and making sure oikawa don’t do no funny things to you

» makki and mattsun also became your best friends and you started hanging out with the seijoh 4 a lot more often

» he has a lot of nightmares and his mental health is as bad as the state of my room rn so please comfort him

» i think he secretly has inferiority complex

» love him or i’ll [redacted]

dates

» not a lot of big dates normally because he’s very preoccupied by volleyball

» so usually arcades?? or park dates?? or even just shopping

» he’s trying his bestest best to fit you to his schedule and shove things away to make space for you because he didn’t wanna make you feel neglected 😭🤲💖

» tbh i think the reason he broke up with his girlfriend (the one mentioned in the anime) is either bcus of fan issues or bcus he neglected her

» he doesn’t want you to go through that pain so he always tries to make time for you

» when you both occasionally go on a big date, he’s all dressed up and treats you like royalty

» on days when he don’t feel so good, it’s the other way around

» i believe you force him to have a lot of stay-home self care dates because he ALWAYS overworks himself

» he cries sometimes because of how grateful he is for you not leaving him bcus he felt like he wasn’t really giving you the amount of love you gave to him ;(

» once he was overworking himself again and you surprised him with tickets to the new planetarium and he almost cried (actually he might’ve but just for the dramatic effect)

overall

» very affectionate and absolutely adores you

» might spew some poisonous words sometimes (when he’s really really pissed) but he really really didn’t mean it

» love him

» appreciate him

» and he’ll do the same for you <3

» 10/10!! in my early haikyuu days (before i saw tendou) i used to have so many thoughts about this manz ;(

- fin <3

@flairlust

#oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x you #oikawa fluff #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu headcanons #🌓.creations

[ahopelessromantic]

No Grave ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of blood, surgery, a gun wound, quite some angst, Spencer and Reader are next level whipped for each other

Is there truly nothing that can get in-between true love? Spencer and you are forced to find out in the most painful way. 

(A/N: I kind of let myself get away with this one, it’s dramatic af lmao. But I listened to Hozier’s Work Song while writing it, so can you really blame me?)

Derek Morgan normally prided himself in having fairly quick reflexes. He had played college football, his rifle scores had always been consistently good, he was able to take down an unsub in less than a minute. But none of that had helped him when a psychotic suspect had shot down his best friend. He had to watch it happen as if it was in slow motion, his voice failing him and not even allowing him to yell out a warning. Spencer had sunken to the floor with a surprised look, blood already beginning to seep through the fabric of his shirt. He coughed weakly and immediately all of Morgan’s attention was on him. Full of worry, he barely even noticed Hotch arriving on the scene and taking down the suspect. “(Y/N).” Spencer spluttered out; his voice hoarse. Now, all of a sudden, everything was happening way too quickly. Morgan frowned in confusion at his friend’s words. “Is that the Unsub’s accomplice? Come on, Reid, stay with me.”, he growled, applying pressure to the gun wound. But he could feel Reid’s body growing limp. “Call (Y/N).” Was the last thing Spencer weakly whispered before passing out.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Emily hummed calmly, placing her arm around Morgan’s shoulders. He took a deep, shaky breath and shook his head. “Then why am I here and he isn’t? Why wasn’t he wearing his goddamn vest?!” He made a move to get up in agitation, but Prentiss pressed down on his shoulder, effectively stopping him. “You know Spencer would have taken it off to negotiate with or without your blessing. And blaming yourself isn’t going to help anyone right now. We’ll know more soon, okay?” He nodded, burying his face in his hands. It had been three hours of surgery already, and it wasn’t looking good for Reid. “Has Garcia found anyone with the name (Y/N) in the unsub’s life yet?” JJ shook her head, watching Morgan and Prentiss with a worried look on her face. “Nothing. Are you sure he said that name?” Morgan was about to snap at her, mad that she dared to criticize his memory at that moment, but then a nurse headed their way. They must have made up an odd group, just a bunch of tired-looking agents draped over various chairs and even the floor. “You’re with Doctor Reid?” This time there was no way for Prentiss to stop Morgan, he jumped up from his seat and towered over the unsuspecting nurse. “Finally, we see someone from your staff! Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve gotten any updates?” The nurse flinched, then regained her composure and straightened up to meet Morgan’s glare head-on. “If you’ve been here for so long already, you probably know that we’re not allowed to give you any information on the patient.” Morgan visibly deflated. “Can you at least tell us if he’s alive?” The nurse sighed, a conflicted look on her face. “Listen, his emergency contact is on its way. Maybe they can tell you more.” With that she disappeared down the hallway, leaving behind a clueless team. “Reid has an emergency contact?” Rossi asked but only got confused faces as an answer. After that, it was back to waiting. Just when Morgan thought he was going to lose his mind; someone came their way again.

You were sure you looked like an absolute mess. You had woken up from a terrible nightmare, and ten minutes later the hospital had called you. Before the staff member had even begun to speak you had already known that something was wrong. Like a madman, you had bolted through your apartment and carelessly gotten dressed. You were sure you had forgotten about half your purse’s usual contents back in your apartment. With some spare clothes and a hot to-go cup of coffee, you had gotten into your car and driven as fast as never before in your life. At some point, you had either switched on autopilot or gone into shock, or maybe even both. It was only in the hospital’s garage that you tuned back in, wondering how you had even gotten there in one piece. Upon seeing your reflection in the elevator up to the ICU you became painfully aware of the fact that you were wearing Spencer’s sweater. And with that, your emotions overcame you, threatened to pull you under like a deathly avalanche. With tears streaming down your face you made your way to the front desk, stating your name as calmly as possible. Your whole body was shaking and after the first whiff of hospital air you threw up into the nearest trash bin. One of the nurses had been so kind as to lead you to a waiting area and explain that Spencer was still in surgery. The people sitting there matched the descriptions of his team members and you weakly smiled at them. “You’re with Spence, right?” One of them jumped up from his seat and nodded, looking at you expectantly. “He’s- They told me he’s still in surgery.” Was all you were able to bring out before you broke down sobbing. A woman with dark hair pulled you into a much-needed hug, and if had you been less worried about your loved one’s wellbeing you would have felt bad about ruining her shirt with your tears. “I’m sorry if it seems insensitive, but I think we all have to ask.” A serious-looking man spoke up once you had slightly calmed down, now sitting next to the kind woman in one of the hospital’s dingy chairs. “Who… are you?” You were still so deep in thought that you hadn’t even heard the question, absently playing with the ring on your left hand. It was a habit Spencer normally called you out on, taking your hand whenever he spotted you doing it. It was also how the team’s glances landed on your ring, their breaths catching in their throats. “I’m Spencer’s wife.” You said with a heavy voice, swallowing down a sob. The team looked like they were about to bombard you with questions, but then a serious-looking nurse made her way over to you. You felt every single muscle in your body tense up. “Doctor Reid is out of Surgery.” For a moment you felt as if you were floating, ready for more good news, but upon seeing the expression on her face you could swear your heart stopped for a moment. “Would you please come with me?” You nodded and got up, your legs feeling like jelly. The nurse led you to the front of a hospital room. “You can go in and see him now, but I have to warn you. Your husband suffered a gunshot to his heart, and although the surgery has been successful, he’s still in a critical condition. He’ll only be somewhat safe once he makes it through the night.” You nodded, and without stopping to think for a moment you stepped into the room. If your heart hadn’t been broken before by the mere prospect of never looking into Spencer’s beautiful eyes again, it would have surely shattered into pieces now. Seeing his lifeless body on the hospital bed filled you with an indescribable ache like someone was physically trying to claw their way through your chest on the search for your now cold heart. The hot tears on your cheeks were the last reminder of warmth in your body, and you quietly whimpered. You sank into the chair next to his bed and felt yourself completely break, burying your head in the hard mattress. The eerie beeping of the heart monitor and the sound of the oxygen tank posed the soundtrack of your demise and for a while, you completely lost all track of time. You had known that his work was dangerous, and you had always been somewhat prepared for something bad to happen one day. You set up as his emergency contact was proof of that, of a partnership whose very essence it was to constantly fear losing each other. But nothing could have ever prepared you for this, sitting next to his pale form and feeling like you had been shot just as bad as him. It didn’t quite want to fit into your head, that this could be it. This could be the last breaths you would ever witness him take and it made you want to scream in pain. If everything had gone according to you, your life with Spencer had been nowhere near to being over. Hell, it had only just started. You gripped his hand, more to anchor yourself than anything. “Spence, baby. Do you remember the day we got married?”, you whispered in a last fit of broken hope. Maybe talking to him would bring him back to the land of the living, bring him back to you. Your wedding had been such a spontaneous decision, and yet, somehow, it had been the best day of your life. You had been speaking about the concept of marriage over breakfast, how commercialised weddings had become over the years, and then suddenly he had looked at you over the rim of his coffee mug and asked you if you wanted to get married today. There hadn’t even been any nervousness in his voice, he had been so certain that this was the way for you two to go. You had laughed at first, asked him if he was crazy, to which he had just retorted that he was crazy about you. “Nothing is going to change anyway. I’m yours and you’re mine for the rest of our lives, right? Might as well save some taxes while being together.” His words had been so profound that you hadn’t even had the chance to say no. So, that day, you in your prettiest sundress and Spencer in his best suit, the two of you had gotten rings from the jeweller around the corner and then driven to the courthouse where you had signed your lives away to each other. Now, sitting next to him in the glum hospital room, all of that seemed like a far-off memory. A sunlit moment of joy in a now so dull seeming world. “Your life is mine, and my life is yours, remember?” You whispered with an aching soul. “My life is going to end with yours and I’m not ready for that yet, okay?” Your voice broke. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.” You started sobbing again, and at this point, you were surprised you even still had tears in your body left to cry. All night long you weren’t able to get a minute of sleep, your gaze continuously fixed on the rise of his chest. If he was going to stop breathing, you had to be there. A doctor came by to check on Spencer in the early morning hours, looking somewhat hopeful. “He’s made it through the night, that’s good. Your husband is a fighter, Mrs Reid.” You almost hugged the poor guy, so grateful to finally have received good news again. “He should be waking up slowly, once he’s awake we can transfer him to a regular care room.” You nodded and looked back to Spencer, hooked up on various machines and tubes. The shadows under his eyes were dark, and although you wanted nothing more than to see his face full of life again you wished he would just take his time waking up. Normally you always had to force him to go to sleep. The team had been a huge help in keeping you sane, all of them had been camping out in the waiting area, waiting for any kind of news. Of course, you had wished to meet them under different circumstances, but nothing to bring you together like your husband almost dying, right?

Spencer woke up around noon. At first, you hadn’t even noticed it, but then his hand had twitched next to yours and your brain had immediately switched back into hyper-focus. He scrunched up his face, and then with the faintest morning voice ever he mumbled out a quiet “Ow.”. You started laughing and crying at the same time, pressing kisses all over his hand. “Why does my chest hurt?” He grumbled; his eyes still closed. “You were shot in the heart, honey.”, you reminded him, your voice almost matching his. It was then that he opened his eyes and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. You were never again going to forget how beautiful they looked. He weakly gripped your hand in his, his expression still more confused than anything else. “Is that why everything hurts?” You laughed and nodded, leaning your forehead against your joined hands. “I’ll go get the doctor in a minute. But do you even know how much you scared me?” Spencer lifted your chin and looked at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. “How does that song you like so much go again? No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her? You’re not getting rid of me that easily my love.” You breathed out in relief, leaning into his touch. “I love you so much, Spencer.” For a whole moment you got lost in his eyes, and it was there you knew that you were never going to take another moment with him by your side for granted. You were going to hoard them like a greedy madman and hold onto them until age or death would have to pry them from your hands. But then life picked up its normal speed again, doctors came swarming into the room to check on Spencer and you were filled with nothing but gratefulness to the universe for giving you more time with him, more time to make memories for your collection.

With a smile on your face, you watched the team spill into the room, all of them looking more than happy to see your husband alive. It had been two days since the surgery, and the nurses had only now given Spencer the clear for visitors again. Morgan sat down across from you, punching Spencer in the shoulder as gently as possible. “That’s for almost dying on me, and for not telling us that you’re married! We could have notified her much sooner, man.” Spencer had half a heart to look guilty, distracting himself by playing with your wedding ring. “You guys know how dangerously close Unsubs sometimes get to us. (Y/N) is all I have; I couldn’t risk her ever getting hurt. It’s got nothing to do with you, I promise.” Emily crossed her arms, looking down on Spencer in feigned anger. “Well, that’s good because we really happen to like your wife. She forced us all to sleep while she was waiting for you to make it through the night.” Spencer’s eyes met yours and you basked in the warmth flowing through you. He already had a cheeky grin on his tired face again. “Why does that sound so familiar?” You chuckled and rolled your eyes, gripping his hand even tighter. There was no way in hell you were going to remove yourself from his side during the next few weeks. After a few days he was cleared to return home, and you couldn’t wait to have your home feel like just that again. Home just wasn’t the same without him.

“Sir, you have absolutely no business still looking this good after getting shot in the heart.” Spencer laughed in surprise, shoving his wet hair out of his face. He had taken his first shower by himself today, finally able to fully move his arms again without ripping the stitches open. “Honey, I haven’t worn anything but hoodies and sweatshirts since getting back from the hospital.” You could see the familiar blush on his cheeks he got whenever you complimented him, and it filled your chest with warm honey to see him like that again. “Still. Being alive suits you.” He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, getting into bed and patting the empty spot beside him. “I know it’s early, but come sleep with me?” His painkillers made him constantly tired, but you’d prefer a sleepy cuddly Spencer over a Spencer in pain any day. “Like you even have to ask.” You giggled, turning off the lights and cuddling up next to him. “I know it’s a weird question.” You spoke into the darkness after listening to your husband’s calm breathing for a while. “But when you were on the other side… did you see anything?” You could feel his chest vibrate with a half-hearted chuckle next to you. “Go to sleep, (Y/N).” You shook your head and further curled up into his size. “I’m gonna need to hear you breathing for at least thirty minutes more before I’m able to fall asleep.” He took a deep breath and started drawing circles on your skin through the fabric of the ratty old MIT t-shirt of his that you always slept in. “It was just… lonely. And cold. So cold. For some reason, I knew you weren’t there. So I decided not to stay.” You tried to wipe away the tear that had snuck down your cheek as discreetly as possible. You had expected many answers, but nothing quite like this. “God, I love you.” You whispered with a trembling voice. Spencer turned to fully face you and caressed the side of your face. “I love you too. More than you can even imagine. But you should sleep now. I’ll still be here tomorrow, I promise. I’m never letting go of you again.” You nodded and snuggled into your pillow, a hand on Spencer’s chest. “Are you… checking for my heartbeat?” Eyes already closed, you giggled. “Shhh. I’m not letting go of you again, either.” With that, the two of you fell asleep. Spencer hadn’t lied to you. He was still there the next morning, and every morning after that as well for many more years. No matter how dangerous life became, he was always going to crawl back to you and you to him. No graves could hold your bodies down.

#requested #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #mgg #Matthew gray gubler #Matthew gray gubler x reader #BAU #BAU Team #BAU x Reader #derek morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #hozier

[luna-the-moth]

Leviathan, Satan, and Asmodeus with a Genderfluid!MC (SFW)

Hello Love! Thanks for sending in the request! As the title says, Genderfluid! MC, SFW rating.

DISCLAIMER: There is a lot of diversity in the genderfluid community, and I can’t possibly cover every genderfluid person’s experience here. This will be based on the information I’ve researched and heard, along with firsthand accounts. Thank you to @writing-with-olive​ for writing about your experiences, along with the commenters who added important insight/additions. If I wrote any misinformation, please feel free to tell me in the comments!

Writing from a Genderfluid Reader’s POV by @/writing-with-olive

@/charged-wanderlust’s adding on to that post, including important details

Leviathan, Satan, and Asmodeus with a Genderfluid!MC (SFW)

Leviathan:

One word: Cosplay

(Bet you saw that coming, huh?)

He’ll adore the fact that you can dress in an array of styles with him, the possibilities are endless!

Whether you choose masculine, feminine, androgynous, etc, styles of clothing you prefer, he’ll have a costume whipped up for you.

After all, he’s known to be talented in outfit-making in-game, especially when it comes to cosplays.

Whatever identity you decide for yourself, he’ll happily create enamel pins for you, so people know what pronouns to call you.

Please ask him to make enamel pins, he’s literally so excited and honored to make you something you’ll wear.

I hc Levi as a person who’ll cosplay as masculine, feminine, or any orientation, so it’ll be nice for you to join him as well!

Cosplaying aside, he absolutely loves you, gender-fluidity and all.

If you’re ever feeling multiple genders at the same time, Levi’ll make sure to use those pronouns, and takes note of every change you go through.

I think that because his interests and passions used to be shunned, along with who he is, he’ll pay special attention to your changes.

He’s been uncomfortable or upset due to others being insensitive countless times, and he doesn’t want to accidentally put you in that position.

Oh he absolutely finds it fun to play video games, if you choose differently gendered/oriented characters to play with.

You both can experience quests and battles in a new way, exploring different characters, and their varying skills!

Plus, don’t tell anyone this, but he’d love to go shopping with you for clothing once in a while....

After all, seeing you embrace yourself wholly and expressing yourself through clothing is inspiring for him, and who knows?

You may be able to bring him out of his shell, my dear!

Satan:

He’s quite fascinated, to be honest.

To demons, gender-fluidity is a well-known term, as it’s not exactly uncommon for demons and Devildom inhabitants identify with it.

I personally hc that gender isn’t really made a fuss in the Devildom, and the demons don’t really care about it.

Since majority of them can change gender at will, it’s surprising to hear that there’s such discourse and discrimination in the human world in terms of gender.

As long as you feel happy, who cares?

It’s interesting to see how you go through gender fluidity, and if you give him permission, Satan would love to document your experience as a genderfluid person.

If you change to masculine (Or if you prefer to wear masculine clothing no matter what), he’ll offer up his clothes, feeling a small swell of pride seeing you wear them.

Definitely buys couples’ clothing for the both of you, with multiple sets to match whatever gender you are at the moment.

On the chance you prefer to keep a set of spare clothes of a different gender with you, he’ll offer to carry it, or give you a pendant/amulet/charm in which you can summon the clothes on at any given moment.

After all, it’s more convenient, and easily portable!

Any time you experience a sudden gender change, he’ll make sure to see if you’re alright, as (for some), it can disrupt your train of thought for a few moments.

Satan wants to make you feel comfortable and validated, so if there’s any signals that you have to signify your gender, (i.e a color coded bracelet, ring, accessory, etc) he’ll immediately take note and acknowledge you as such.

All in all, he adores you for who you are, no matter what you identify as.

He totally takes you shopping but unintentionally selects ugly as hell clothing for you to try on.

“Y/n? Would you try this on please? I think it would look nice with these bottoms and scarf.”

(Proceeds to show you a deep yellow and bright red checkered dress shirt, ripped bell-bottomed jeans, and a vivid neon blue scarf.)

“Look, I even have a matching set so we can be a pair!”

(Pulls out a matching suit with a white jacket, neon blue lapel, with a yellow and red dress shirt, polka dotted.)

At least the colors of the outfits match?

Asmodeus:

Ohoho, he’s ecstatic.

His darling is so versatile, it’s lovely, really.

Well, if you’re unsure of your gender-fluidity, or not sure what you identify as, he’ll gladly help you through the process, should you ever want his help.

Like, if you want to try out masculine/feminine/androgynous clothing to see how you feel in it, he’s got you covered!

Literally has closets of clothing with different genres and styles.

If you’re not the same size as him, don’t worry, he’ll ask Satan to enchant the articles of clothing you want to fit however you’d like!

Plus, if you prefer any accessories that signify your gender identification, he has t o n s, honey!

Bracelets, rings, earrings, hair clips, glasses, gloves, you name it, he’s got it!

After all, he (I hc him as this anyhow) fluxes between a variety genders and identities, simply because he feels more comfortable in that clothing.

So he always has different clothing options available for just about any type of mood/orientation/identity you can think of!

He also has a bottomless purse or bag on him at all times, for his makeup and accessories, but he’ll always ask if you want to put a spare change of clothes in as well!

Whenever you feel gender dysphoria, he’ll do his best to bring you to a calm, quiet place where you can focus on yourself a bit.

Should you ever need comfort or feel insecure, he’ll gladly comfort you, or make sure that you have space, his darling rose should take care of themself, after all!

Honestly, if you ever ask him for guidance or advice (seeing as he is old- but don’t tell him that-) about anything you’re unsure about, he’ll sit you down, light a candle, (or not, totally depends on if you want one or not) and gently guide you through your emotions and thoughts.

“Darling it’s ok to be confused, or disoriented. It’s normal for everyone, human, demon, angel, whatever! You’ll get through this, and I’ll be there every step of the way for you, my rose.”

#my writing #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me headcanon #obey me scenario #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you. Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting… tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing, mentioned homophobia w/c: 3.6k

tagging list:  @angrylittleriri​ @chims-kookies​ @gooseyhouse @kiyokoscunchie​ @unhappyraspberry​ @elianetsantana​ 

a/n: welcome to the THIRD chapter of the fic! i hope you’re all doing well since i’ve last posted. I genuinely apologize for the delay! a few personal things kinda popped up, and it kinda derailed the process of posting this fic, but at least we’re here now!  this is a bit longer compared to the other chapters, but i hope you all enjoy! please ignore any grammar mistakes, i proof read this to the best of my ability and it’s currently 5 in the morning :’) 

see you all next week for the final chapter.  p.s. I do have a smol surprise, so stay tuned for next week! 

back to master list

<< life as she’s known it | life as they’ll know it >>

Kenma had always been aware of the common misconception people had of him, and the lack of interest they had to confirm it: that he had the inability to express his thoughts and feelings let alone identify it. 

In a way, he did find it rather difficult to open up. Being bullied as a child silenced him into the dreading assumption that anyone who was kind to him or showed any interest in him were only doing so just to mess with him. 

It took Kuroo quite a lot when he first met Kenma. He bent his little body over and under, jumping through hoops like a show pony just to get Kenma to even blink his way. And though all that effort strained him, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you he’d do it all again if he could. 

But it wasn’t a question of whether or not Kenma could identify what he was feeling and thoroughly express it. He had the right words, all of which were hanging off the tip of his tongue. He just didn’t know how to say it without sounding insensitive or heartless. 

So as he stares at Yuki twirling in a dress you found digging through one of your old childhood clothes, his lips run dry. His words tuck behind the swell of his heart because though Yuki does indeed look like the cutest child he’s ever seen, his thoughts are full of concern, worried about what people say to a little boy showing up in a jean overall dress with purple and yellow flowers embroidered at the hem. 

His eyes gape onto the sight before him, flickering over to Eiji when he hears him clear his throat. He seems just as troubled, quieter than usual while he watches over his brother. Not a single trace of amusement is seen in Eiji’s face. He doesn’t seem happy at all, and it phases Kenma; he’s usually stoic if not smiling in the presence of Yuki. 

Yuki continues to giggle himself, gripping onto the material of his dress to have it flow in the air. He looks up to meet your eyes, oblivious to the two boys muddled in their own distress. 

“I’m sorry, Yuki-chan,” You huff, smiling down to the little boy running circles in the middle of the living room. “If I had known the preschool was gonna accept you so soon, I would’ve brought you to the mall...But this should be fine for now, right? Is this okay with you, Yuki-chan?” 

Yuki disregards your apology, holding up your old frog raincoat as he beams at his “new” found clothes. 

“Plus, these don’t look so old, and it doesn’t look too girly, don’t you think?” You turn to Kenma who spares you nothing more than a nod. You follow his gaze and find it etched into the embroidered hem. 

It doesn’t pass off as boy clothes, he thinks, letting your words breeze past him. 

Kenma isn’t shy with breaking gender norms; he’s worn a few skirts and dresses himself, all that are still sitting in his closet to be worn again. His qualms aren’t with Yuki wearing a dress, but the treatment he’s expected to get when he shows up to his first day of school. He’ll be bullied into the same silence Kenma faced, and he’ll amount to nothing more than rubble beneath their judgement. 

They say times are changing, so the people must be too, right? But there’s a persistent constricting feeling building up in his chest as if it comes as a warning sign. And the fact that Eiji looks just as uneasy as himself hints that maybe Yuki should change out of something less...worrisome. 

“Mmm, Yuki,” Kenma clears his throat, trying to subside the build up of his uneasiness, “maybe you should wear something else…?” Yuki’s smile falters at his words as confusion colors away his joy. “I think you should wear the pants with the little frog shirt you picked out instead.” 

He doesn’t mean for his words to come out bitter and cold, and the momentum of his panic leaves a lump in his throat he isn’t too sure he’ll be able to swallow if he keeps his silence. 

Yuki looks up to him, blinking away at his words with glistening eyes. “I don’t look pretty?” Yuki’s voice comes out small--smaller than his fingers and toes. Smaller than his ability to comprehend where Kenma’s truly coming from. “You don’t like it, Kenma-san..?”

Oh no, he thinks to himself. Panic rises from his stomach and climbs up to his chest; a tightness in his throat soon follows when Yuki begins to blubber, telling him how mean he’s being. I didn’t mean to make him--

“Kozume.” You chide, looking at him quizzically. He meets your eyes and he instantly freezes up, thinking you, too, have come to misunderstand him. “What are you doing? Do something.” 

But he can’t. If he opens his mouth, he’ll only sound meaner than before, and he’d rather not add any more confusion or any more pain to the little boy. 

“Say something,” You push, glaring at him. “Kozume.” 

His throat goes dry as well as his lips, and when he finally does gain enough courage, Eiji takes a step forward beating him to the punch. “Yuki, I think it’s better you just wear pants. Dresses are for girls, and you shouldn’t be wearing this kind of stuff.” 

Your eyes widen and so does Kenma’s. Eiji’s is stern and clear in contrast to all the other times he’s spoken since he’s arrived. You watch as he kneels to meet Yuki’s eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder before running it up to his cheek to wipe away his tears. 

“There might be some problems if you wear a dress to school, Yuki-chan. And didn’t we promise each other we wouldn’t cause them any trouble for Oba-san and Kenma-san while we’re here?” Eiji’s voice is a lot soft, yet his words are still firm. Yuki quietly submits to his brother, hanging his head low as he continues to cry. 

You stand there both stunned. 

You want to speak up, but you’re still unsure of your place; who you are and what you can say. So you stand there with Kenma tightlipped at your side with tension hanging above your heads, watching as Yuki quietly sniffles to himself as he hugs the pile of clothes he’s picked and carries it into their shared bedroom. 

Needless to say, everyone goes to bed tucked beneath the covers of their guilt. 

                                                                                   ❁ ❁ ❁

Quiet mornings with a steaming cup at hand while treading lightly through the endless sea of emails in his iPad brought Kenma an odd sense of peace, and he looked forward to it every morning. But much to Kenma’s dismay, the apartment is too quiet and the coffee bitter; the chill in the atmosphere is unsettling as he falls into deep thought. 

He thinks back to the events of last night; Yuki’s crying face, your contorted look of confusion, and Eiji’s words. It all comes pouring down on him like a bucket of cold water. 

Not even his coffee can spare him from the chill down his spine. 

He mentally kicks himself, thinking of all the other ways he could’ve said it better. How he could’ve prevented him from breaking Yuki’s little heart and avoided your cold shoulder as you left in a hurry to take the kids to their schools. 

Kenma sucks in a breath as the stinging spreads across his chest. The weight of his cup grows heavy and he shifts his grip to a more comfortable hold. Nothing about the morning is comforting, and it leaves Kenma in distress, the feeling spilling into his work as he continues about his day. 

He can barely read a single line of an email let alone write one; his senses aren’t as sharp as he struggles to smoothen his hand-eye coordination during gaming; and he catches himself zoning out in the middle of his online meetings, barely humming responses to questions he pretends to hear. 

Kenma wonders how Yuki’s doing, and what he could do to apologize and gain his trust back. Maybe he’ll get some strawberry milk on the way to fetch him, or buy the little duck umbrella he caught him eyeing at the convenience store. 

Kenma isn’t good with words if one were to ask him to be gentle and kind. He’s blunt and straight to the point, and it took him more than just a while to get used to softening the blow of his words and how he delivers them. 

And now, as he muddles in his misery does he ingrain those habits deeper into thought until it becomes muscle memory to his lips. 

He’s only then pulled from his squabbles when the doorbells rings throughout the apartment. His feet drag him to the door as his mutters in his resentment. What in the hell could be here--

“You’re shitting me.” Kenma grimaces at  the sight of the cheeky grin plastered across his best friend’s face as he opens the door; his hair tousled to the side and his usual business attire unkempt.  “What the hell do you want?” 

Kuroo pouts, pretending to be wounded by the bitter greeting as he holds a hand to his heart. “Is that how you greet an old friend?” 

“Not now, Kuroo-san.” Despite the bite in his words and his half-hearted attempt to shut the door, Kuroo welcomes himself in, kicking his shoes to the side before trailing behind him. 

“I miss your calls,” Kuroo teases, eyes wandering about the apartment, “you don’t even text me back anymore.” 

“I don’t have the time.” Kenma grits as he pinches the bridge of his nose. A drunken, dizzying feeling whirling in his head; probably because of all the coffee he’s downed and the little water he’s consumed. “Whatever it is you’re here to pester me with, please save it for another time and leave.” 

“Why? Stay at home daddy roles keeping you occupied?” The cushion of the couch bends beneath Kuroo’s weight as he leisurely raises his feet to the coffee table, arms relaxing over to the arm rest. “I wasn’t so surprised when you became a CEO, but this--fatherhood was something I’d imagined you’d do much later...” 

Irritation seeps through Kenma’s skin in the form of tense muscles and a clenched jaw as Kuroo continues on to pass cheap jokes and badgers him. He swipes a bottle warm from the fridge before joining Kuroo on the other side of the couch, kicking his foot off the table on the way. 

“You’re so cold to me.” Kuroo whines, ruffling Kenma’s pudding head hair, earning a disapproving tsk. “Seriously, how’s it someone like you skips the step to marriage and dives straight to having kids? I’m a bit hurt. I had to hear it from Shoyo. Like, seriously? Shoyo? I thought I was your best friend?” 

“Self-proclaimed.” He corrects, unbothered by Kuroo’s sore expression as he untwists the cap from the bottle before chugging the water down in one breath. “Will you leave now?” 

“Why are you so keen to push me out?” Kuroo lifts himself off the warmth of the cushions, moving closer to his evidently troubled friend as he picks off the seal from the plastic bottle. “Kenma, are you okay? Kyanma?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose once again, Kenma shakes his head as he leans his head back. Kuroo tilts his head, watching as his friend unravels in his pain; manifesting both metaphorically and physically. 

“I’ve said something mean to a little boy and he didn’t even deserve it.” Kenma fiddles the empty bottle, tossing it to the side before anxiously fiddling with his fingers. 

“What happened?” 

A deep and heavy sigh escapes him, “He was wearing a dress and I told him he shouldn’t. A-And, And it’s not like I didn’t want him to. I don’t mind it all, but people are mean and the thought that he might face the same kind of treatment I did--Kuroo-san, I don’t want that.”

“You only meant well,” Kuroo places his hand on Kenma’s shoulder, rubbing circles against the material of his old Nekoma sweater. “Though, you could’ve said it better--” 

“You know damn well I’m not good at that!” Kenma spits, cutting him off. 

“But the point is, you meant well!” He reiterates. “Might’ve come across as a lil douche-y, but the intentions were there. But I think you of all people know that no matter what, there’ll always be someone mean. And I don’t think you can shield him from that. Maybe temporarily, but not forever.” 

“I don’t want that kind of pain for him!” Kenma abruptly stands from his place, frustration tingling at his fingertips as it spreads throughout the rest of his body. “He’s so small, Kuroo-san. You should’ve seen him. I said one thing and it already looked like he was gonna break. What happens when he hears words worse than mine? What’ll I do then? What can I do for him?” 

Sniffling. It is the sound that follows after Kenma’s voice breaks and causes Kuroo to raise his brows. At first he thinks his ears have tricked him, but when he finds tears pooling down to his chin as he collapses back onto his seat. 

And it is at this moment, after all the time that has passed, has he seen him break.  

“I-I don’t know how to do any of this. I’m so confused.” Kenma babbles on, stumbling on his own words and choking in between his sobs. And all Kuroo can offer is a soft, rhythmic pat on his back to try and calm him down.

“I’ve been doing some reading about how to understand children or how to raise one, but it's so different. There’s all these theories and guidelines, but no one tells you that you forget everything you read the second they appear in front of you…” 

Kenma holds his head in his trembling hands, crying even harder. All the while he wonders what the child version of him would think if saw him as fragile as the fallen leaves that’d crunch beneath his feet. He’d wonder if he had known the stress he’d fall prey to, would he have continued? 

But as the image of you bleed through his worries, he’s more than sure of his answer. 

Yes. 

Yes, I would. 

Over and over again in one breath. 

“You will be to that child what you needed when you were bullied.” Kuroo’s words are steady, matched with an endearing smile to comfort Kenma’s crying as he meets his glistening gaze. “You needed someone to reassure you that all you heard were nothing but lies, so you do that for him.” 

“Ah, my dear friend, have you not heard of the phrase ‘It takes a village to raise a child’?” Kenma merely blinks at him quizzically as Kuroo snakes an arm around him to bring him close. “What I’m tryna say is: stop acting like you don’t have me, and Shoyo, and the rest of your friends who’re just within your reach. No one ever said it was only just going to be the two of you.” 

Kenma swallows thickly, nodding in agreement as he wipes away the snot dripping from the tip of his nose. He says his thanks that’s quieter than a whisper, it comes airy and a bit croaky from crying. 

The words of his best friend doesn’t immediately fill his heart with peace, but it does lift a little weight from his shoulders. It does give him the sense of security he’s been searching for. And all Kenma wants to do now is apologize to Yuki-- 

“Speaking of,” Kuroo clears his throat, wandering his eyes around the expanse of the apartment. “Where are the kids…?” 

“Oh, shit.” 

                                                           ❁ ❁ ❁

Kuroo and Kenma’s feet click clack against the pavement as they run down to Yuki’s preschool. The cool afternoon air winds past the pair; Kenma’s chest is heaving in pain while Kuroo barely breaks a sweat. 

“I can’t believe you forgot the child!” Kuroo shouts behind him, laughing at Kenma struggling to catch up. “How could you forget a child?” 

“I was pretty preoccupied today!” Kenma countered between ragged breaths. “If your ass didn’t show up I would’ve remembered!” 

“Not with all that crying!”

“Don’t you dare bring that up ever!” 

Kuroo’s hyena laugh carries two blocks over. Head turn as the two continue to bicker all the way down until they arrive at the preschool. Children clamoring before the gate, mingling with their parents and Kenma’s hooded gaze sweeps through the crowd to find a familiar tousled head of hair. 

“What’s he look like?” Kuroo towers over Kenma and the children, squinting his eyes and looking around as if he’s got any clue. 

“He, uh, he should be wearing jeans and a frog shir--” Kenma’s attention is pulled from a string of voices singing praises to find Yuki proudly twirling in his embroidered dress, basking in their compliment. 

It becomes clear to Kenma you dire need to leave the house immediately was because of this. Because you were being coy.

But Yuki’s joy is short-lived, locking eyes with Kenma huffing for air after all the running. But to the young boy gaping up at him, it looks as if he’s ready to yell. So he stops his twirling, his smile slipping away as the rest of the kids’ turn to face him. 

Yuki straightens himself, adjusting the straps of his backpack as he carefully walks towards Kenma with his head hung low. Kuroo elbows his side and nearly knocks out the little air he has left. 

He swipes his tongue across his lips before he speaks, But before he can even utter a sound, his train of thought is pulled from him once again. 

“Disgusting.” An abrasive, disembodied voice grimaces. Not a single care if they’re heard. 

“Why the hell is he wearing a dress?” Says another. 

“Honestly, this generation…” 

“Boy’s aren’t supposed to be wearing dresses.” 

The chattering picks up and soon all the parents are ogling at Yuki who can hear them all so clearly, and Kenma notices him shrinking into his froggy raincoat, trying to hide from their judgemental stares. 

This, Kenma thinks. This is exactly what I mean. 

Kenma is not an emotional person, and not once did he ever raise his voice or act on what he was feeling without thinking it over. And as much as he’d like to throw his hands and cause a scene, he remembers Kuroo’s advice. 

“Who’s child is this?” One of the mothers questions. “Who does this child belong to?” 

“He belongs to me, Miss.” Kenma rasps, taking Yuki’s hand in his before turning to the woman. “I am the guardian and this is my child.” 

“And you allow your child to wear a dress?” 

“Yes.” He answers, finding the footing in his confidence to talk back to a woman who can easily tower over him if she steps closer. “Yes, and what does that have to do with you?” 

“Have you no shame?” She glares at him in disgust, sighing. “He’s a boy! Boy’s shouldn’t be wearing dresses! It’s for girls! What kind of message are you trying to teach him?”

 “And what about you, Miss? Are you proud to show your kid and all these other young minds that its okay to be a bigot? That it’s okay to be uneducated?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Then beg.” Kenma spits, his cat eyes burning holes into the mother’s skin. He’s completely unphased by the growing whispers exchanged between the parents. Kuroo watches proudly in the background, quietly cheering him on. “Skirts were worn by both men and women during the prehistoric times, and biologically speaking, it makes more sense if men were to wear skirts. They only stopped because people as close minded and uneducated as you feared femininity.” 

“So I should ask you the same question, Miss: have you no shame? Telling a small child he’s disgusting because we wanted to wear something that made him happy and comfortable. Is he hurting you?” 

The woman’s lips fall to an ‘o’ as she’s at a loss for words, and Kenma relishes in his growing confidence, bending down to Yuki to pick him up and rest him onto his hip. 

“You have no right to talk to my child that way.” Kenma clears his throat, taking a step back as he maintains eye contact with all the parents at sight. “Let me make this very clear: should you feel the need to take my place as his guardian and try to speak for me, I suggest you don’t.” 

Kenma let’s his words linger in the air and begins to walk away, Kuroo slipping through the sea of parents to walk alongside him. 

A smirk slips across his lips, looking down to Yuki clinging his around Kenma’s neck. 

“Wow,” Kuroo breathes, amusement lacing in his tone. “I didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“Oh my god, I never wanna do that again.” Kenma twitches the cringe out from his body before pressing Yuki closer to him. “I hate talking to people.” 

“But you did a very good job, I’m actually super proud.” 

“Shut up,” Kenma mutters, locking his eyes onto the pavement ahead of him. 

He’s still shocked, unable to believe what had just transpired. He hated the feeling of everyone’s eyes fixed on him, and how quiet it was when he spoke. He hated having to speak up. 

But if had to do it again, he would. 

He’d do it again and again in one breath. 

#Kozume Kenma #Kenma Imagines #kenma x y/n #kenma x fem!reader #Haikyuu!! #Haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #Kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma angst #kenma headcanons #Haikyuu fluff #Kuroo Tetsuro #Kuroo fluff #Kuroo hcs #kuroo headcanons #Kenma hcs #Kenma Kozume #kenma kozume headcanons #haikyuu imagines

[oftenderweapons]

Steamy Waters — Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Lace)

Wordcount: 7.6k ( mostly edited✌️)

Genre: smut, pwp, fluff, slightest angst, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+ (As usual, I know)

Hello baby bears! Welcome to Taehyung’s Steamy Waters. I must admit this episode is going to be a lot steamier than planned, but I cannot lament. Recently we celebrated Taehyung’s birthday, so I thought I could add a little extra as a late celebration.

There’s not much plot, honestly. Tae and Lace are bathing together in true Kim Taehyung fashion when the intrusive presence of mirrors on every bathroom wall makes it hard not to stare at each other. And when wandering hands — and wandering feet... and wandering mouths — start wandering too much the temperature in the room becomes too hot to handle. Chaos ensues. Especially when Taehyung is... at her service.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. Wine drinking. Humping, bathtub sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship (don’t make me tell again that you and your partner(s) should be clean before going condomless); massage, slight footjob; oral fixation (not only in terms of oral sex, both male and female receiving btw) but also foot worship, breast worship, body shot, face riding (male receiving), cum eating; spanking, one (1) pussy spank; masturbation (female receiving), also anal fingering (external stimulation only); maid!Taehyung, switch!Taehyung, hard dom!Taehyung, big dick!Taehyung, soft domme!reader, very sub!reader; hair pulling/grabbing; choking kink, degradation kink, overstimulation, squirting, sensory blackout. Taehyung uses a safeword (yellow); did I mention that MIRRORS ARE BACK BUT THIS TIME IT’S WORSE? And if you didn’t guess VOYEURISM 24 out of 10. Also, the softest aftercare and mentions of sleeping pills to help reader relax after... ahem... all of those. Things. In the trigger warnings.

In case you need my masterlist, here it is :)

Enjoy! 💜✨

A jazz piece was playing on the modern gramophone in a corner of the bathroom, somewhere far from the tub, where you and Taehyung would most likely make a splash and quite surely ruin the device.

Taehyung was laying at the opposite side of the tub, head thrown back as your foot rubbed his thigh.

You were pretty chill yourself, arms pressed against the edge of the tub, keeping you from relaxing too much and going under.

“Baths are magic.” You murmured, your toes meeting his hip before sliding back down again.

He hummed in confirmation. “The only problem is with washing one’s hair. It’s so uncomfortable.” He caught your foot underwater, his thumbs digging in the few knots you felt there. If the bath was magic, his hands were miraculous.

You felt your whole body melt and slide half an inch lower, your self restraint too weak to stop you from moaning.

Taehyung smiled fondly and sensuously. “You like it there?” He asked, his fingers moving to the heel, pressing against all those spots he knew from his acupressure appointments.

Your whole leg went insensitive in a very pleasing way. “Yes, you like it, dove.” He said, grinning and moving to your calf, specifically to the spot where the muscle met the bone near your ankle.

“Don’t want your ankles to swell.” He said, pushing your foot into slow, articulate circles.

Your soul definitively abandoned your body.

“We’ll put ice packs on these bad girls as soon as you’re out of the tub.” He said.

“It’s not that bad.” You said, just as he drew two parallel lines with his thumbs digging into your muscle reaching the back of your knee.

You had to grip the rim of tub to keep yourself from end up with your head underwater.

“It is that bad.” He said, rubbing small circles and making sure that all the exertion was magically sucked out of you. “No need to lie to me.” He said, looking at you with his dark eyes, his hair all curled up due to the steam coming from the water and filling the air. His own foot ran down your inner thigh, the sole of his foot ghosting over your pelvis.

There were too many reflective surfaces all over the bathroom.

Angles of him appeared everywhere. Specifically when he lifted your leg and placed a kiss to the upper arch of your foot.

“Shall I move to the other leg?” He asked, lowering your calf back in the water.

You nodded, trying to scoot your hips forward, against his heel.

“Feeling needy?” He asked, as his fingers repeated the procedure he had performed before on your other leg.

“So much.” You replied, using your freshly rejuvenated foot to tease his erection. His massage had activated nerve endings that had probably never really been there before he touched you.

“Let’s finish this leg then,” he said, as he kept pushing your ankle in wide circles.

“Tae,” you called, just as he moaned, your toes tickling his belly while the ball of your foot, way fleshier, teased his head.

“I never thought I could like this.” He said with a small surprised smile before he threw his head back, the cords of his neck tensing, the veins throbbing so clearly under the complicated game of shadows originated by the soft lights in the bathroom.

You loved his bathroom. It was soothing, with all the dark hues and the orangey lights.

His hands stopped for a second. “You’re distracting me.” He said.

“I wanted to treat you nice. For your birthday.” You replied. “I still can’t believe we went vanilla on your birthday night.” You said, still teasing him, hoping you could have him speaking in that soft, deep, dreamy voice he has whenever you’re getting him in the mood.

“It was good vanilla though.” He commented, his hips jerking forward with a small grunt before he felt his spine turn into putty.

“Very good vanilla.” You said, removing his leg from between yours, deciding to be generous and focus on him.

“Still, I owe you birthday sex.” You said, noticing his slow chuckle as you made him part his legs wide.

“Come here.” He said, removing the drain stopper with his fingers and bringing his hand between his legs as you bent your legs underneath your torso and crawled to him, straddling him and grinding your pelvis against his. “This is way better.” He purred, one of his hands keeping him upright while the other one landed on your ass. “You’re so soft.” He said, pushing his crotch up and against you. “I could just...” Once the water was low enough that his cock emerged freely from the surface, he put the drain stopper back in place, taking in your lustful expression as you ground on him.

“I think you’re the one who wants birthday sex.” Taehyung said, grabbing your hips and squishing the skin there.

His touch was always something that set you on fire. Ever since the first time, since your very first touch, he had completely possessed your entire being. Whenever his body connected with yours it felt like your skin and his were ready to part and like the raw extremities of a wound, and heal together, his blood vessels becoming yours, or maybe yours becoming his, until there was no distinction anymore. It was the exact opposite of that kind of surgery performed to separate conjoined twins.

And no surgery, no cutting was necessary. It was just. Preternatural. And so, so natural at the same time.

“Do you need me to stretch you?” He asked, his thumb massaging your clit.

One more bridge between you and him.

“I can take you. I’m so turned on.” You said, bending to kiss his neck and drink the small droplets of water glistening there.

“Was it the massage?” He asked, rolling his head back, offering you even more skin to kiss.

“I don’t know,” you said, licking him. Meanwhile you started noticing it wasn’t water, but rather your own slick making you slide on him.

Water was too unreliable, it would leave you dry and make the whole experience traumatic; especially, considering his size, both in length and girth.

“We can act like it’s your birthday.” He said, kissing a soft spot under your jaw. “Have an early birthday for my Nymphette.” He said, this time nibbling against the sweet spot on your neck.

You chuckled and brought your hands down his chest, scratching his stomach gently and playfully pinching the soft flesh of his belly. You loved him being so lithe and at the same time a bit fluffy in such an adorable spot. It made you think of childhood games, like blowing raspberries of his sensitive tummy. It always makes him so happy that his eyes spark up with pure, innocent joy, his mop of hair immediately coming for your neck and bosom, where he nuzzles in to tickle you before rubbing his face against your breasts like a cuddle some cat.

Once your face parted from his neck and chest, he cupped your face, holding you still. “I love you.” He said, staring in your eyes. And it felt so simple: no big statements, no poetic words, no useless rethorics. “I love you.” He repeated.

You mirrored his hold on you, placing both hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumb against his divine features. “I love you.”

It holds more meaning than you could ever explain. The obliterating need in both your eyes and his, the urgency and the fondness. You felt like a pot boiling and overflowing with ten thousand ingredients that were a specific mix of his taste and your taste and his smell and yours and all the tastes and smells you’ve experienced together.

The candle burning in his room the first time you made love. His aftershave. Strawberries. Your shampoo, which became his shortly after you moved in. Champagne and that bubbly feeling of having butterflies in your stomach. French macaroons. The first breakfast in bed. The tteokbokki you had eaten with his parents the day he introduced you to them. The light, talk scent of Yeontan’s fur after the first time you bathed him together.

Now you were horny and emotional.

Taehyung seemed to notice. “Are you feeling okay, honey?” He asked, dragging his thumb against your lower lip.

“I just realised how important you are to me.” You said, bending to his face and kissing him.

“Just now?” He asked, slightly surprised as he raised an eyebrow.

“No,” you replied, closing your eyes and touching your face with his, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek against yours, brushing your noses together, focusing on the intense sensation of his face against such a personal, private part of your own body. “Sometimes I just… get lost in the feeling. It feels like being overwhelmed by all the things we share, all that we have together. How many things remind me of you.” You murmured against the tender spot behind his ear.

“I know.” He said. His hands moved to your waist, fingers sinking in the flesh as he invited you to sit up.

You followed his direction. Once he could look at you, all of you, he took his length in his hand. “Inside?” He asked, checking in on you.

You nodded. “Please. Inside.”

He closed his eyes and smiled, pulling you close to his chest once more with one arm wrapped around your waist.

With the hand on his cock, he rubbed his tip up and down your slit, making you moan a couple times, whimpering when you felt his soft tip breach your walls.

“Tae...” You whined, his lips meeting yours and trying to suffocate your lament.

“Hush, Lace,” he said, touching your spine. “Is it wet enough?” He said, pressing his mouth to your temple. “Take your time, love.”

You inhaled and lifted your hips up before sliding down again, one inch at a time, your muscles constricting around him so hard that you had to stop.

“Too tight,” he said, trying to lift you up slightly. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He said as he kept kissing your face. “Let me stretch you first, love.”

“No.” You whined, your hands stopping his as he tried to slide out of you. “I want it like this. I can take it, just… Easy.” You said, begging. “Please.”

“If it hurts, we stop. Immediately.” He replied, still unsure.

You nodded eagerly and let your hips lower some more. “Kiss me?”

His eyes turned into warm, happy crescents as he obliged, moving his lips against yours. His hips inadvertently jerked upwards, forcing one more inch into you, making you gasp and offering him the perfect chance to let his tongue slide into your mouth.

The kiss was the sweetest poison, with playful flicks and demanding swipes, the tip of his tongue licking the underside of your own as yours arched up toward his palate. In the erotic frenzy of it all, you completely lost control of your legs and before you could notice, he was completely sheathed inside you as he kept sucking on your wet appendage, bobbing his head slightly as your tongue, fully stretched out, methodically appeared and disappeared past his lips. It felt right, your tongue penetrating his mouth as his sex penetrated yours. It felt balanced.

It didn’t take long before your hips started moving, riding him, making him moan and lose the suction he had on your appendage.

Parting from him was a mess of spit, both your eyes and his opening and staring at the silvery string connecting your lips to his. “You’re so hot.” You murmured as his hands landed on your hips, helping you, just as your brought your own palms to your chest, pressing your breasts together, massaging them as they rolled with the way you were simply moving back and forth, not really focusing on bouncing but rather sliding.

Taehyung was immediately captured by the sight of your breasts caught in your palms, his hands staying on your hips to help you while his mouth landed on your left nipple. You quickened your pace as his thumb met your clit, making you whine. “How close?” You asked, brow furrowing as he tugged at your nipple while suctioning it inside his mouth. You moved even faster in reply, gyrating your hips too as he grew more and more eager on your skin, until his teeth had created an indentation on your areola and your nipple was too sensitive to stay inside his mouth, subjected to the ruthless whipping and flicking of his tongue.

“Oh my god, Tae, please, I’m—” You couldn’t put a finger on what was making you so desperately horny, maybe it was simply because you were just out of your period and you had been starving for him for almost a week, but unexpectedly you felt yourself near your edge.

“Lace for fuck’s sake, we’ve just started.” He grunted as he recognised your kegels pulsating around him faster and tighter. “Already?”

You nodded.

“Damn. So hot.” He huffed out before pressing his mouth to your other nipple, giving up on sucking it and deciding to simply loll out his tongue and press it flat against your chest. “Come on, nymph. Cum on my cock.” He swore as he felt you get impossibly tighter. “Fuck it, Lace. Ride it.” He said, removing one hand from your hip before you heard a loud smack, followed by a prickling, burning sensation on your left glute.

The muscles of your ass and legs quivered as you stopped for a second, his thumb restless at the apex of your labia. “Did you—” You shivered as he hit the perfect spot, “Did you just spank me?” You asked, all your muscles tense.

He froze. “… did it… I’m sorry…” He said, confused.

“No, I liked it.” You corrected him. “I was toying with you.” You said with a small smile.

He knew sometimes you weren’t in the mood for spanks and power play. Sometimes you just wanted to be equals and simply get lost in pure, extreme sensations.

He shook his head, incredulous. “Then keep going, nymph.” He said, before surprising you with another spank.

You gasped and chuckled before cupping his jaw and joining your mouths, your hips moving carelessly.

This time he grabbed your ass viciously before slapping it one more time, his tongue being twice as lively as usual as he licked your own tongue, revelling in the velvet paradise of your mouth. Once he felt your hips grow impatient, your movements irregular, he parted from you, throwing his head back, eyes opening, his long lashes fluttering dreamily as he let his mouth hang open before silencing a moan by catching his lower lip between his teeth.

Finally you felt pleasure taking over your body, Taehyung’s eyes opening and focusing up.

He gestured at the ceiling with a jerk of his chin. Following his tip, your gaze turned up. And met the mirror.

In that moment you realised how furiously you were moving on top of him, how eager and desperate and sexy you looked.

“Look at you. So messy for my cock. My little nymph.” He said, smacking your ass once more.

A short whimper exited your mouth as the hit took the air from your lungs.

Your high exploded while his thumb teased the underside of your clit, unprotected by the hood and painfully sensitive by now.

For a second, everything felt too intense, your hair wet and dripping down your back, the water grown cold by now, and his skin so hot, his nipples hard under your thumbs, his hands moving to your breasts once you didn’t need him on your clit anymore, his palms sliding on your half-dry skin and pressing your boobs together before he dove his head forward, dragging his whole face against the soft crevasse that your tits formed together. He started ramming his hips up, fucking into you as your movements slowed down.

He loved suffocating between your breasts, gasping hard as your heartbeat drowned his ears, your breathing like a feral, powerful creature beckoning him toward your dark lair of consuming bliss.

Biting his lip, frowning and groaning repeatedly, he slammed his hips hard against the back of your thighs, four, five, six times before he stilled and screamed in pleasure, the dark granite of the walls amplifying his animalistic sound before he bit into your breast, almost painfully.

Too bad you were still lost somewhere in pleasure, his body finally joining yours.

Maybe you would complain about the bite in the morning, when it would be red and sore and maybe swollen.

“____, fuck. Can we have monthly appointments like this?” He said, gyrating his hips tentatively while you gripped the tub, trying to find purchase as your body betrayed you and collapsed almost entirely.

“Monthly birthdays...” You mused, mouth brushing against the column of his throat.

“Do we really need an occasion to fuck like this?” He asked while his hand kneaded the soft folds of flesh around your torso. He found endless pleasure in feeling every aspect of you under his fingers.

And it never made you feel conscious. Rather, it made you feel appreciated, not like he was avoiding your absolutely average and healthy body fat, but more like his fingers were appreciating every detail of you, singing a hymn to your whole body completely devoid of flaws, praising it in the unwavering, glorious materiality of it.

You felt worshipped.

The shiver that ran down your spine rose him from his blissful slumber. “You’re cold?” He asked, pressing you closer to himself.

You nodded and mouthed at his neck. “You feel too good inside, though.”

He chuckled. “It feels good inside you too.” He replied fondly. Sometimes you wondered how this cockwarming thing never made sense to you before you met him.

“But you need to dry your hair, love.” He patted your ass a couple times. “Don’t want you to get sick.” He said, “Plus, we’re going to be uncomfortable here.” He tried to raise his torso from his slumping. You helped him by sitting up yourself, his dick pulsating inside you and making your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He cackled. “Later.” He said his hands circling your waist and helping you up and off him.

As his cock slid out completely, landing on his belly, completely covered in your and his cum, you licked your lips.

“No.” He said, smirking, already placing his hands on your shoulders, keeping you from bending down and sucking him clean.

“Please, sir?” You whined, arching your brows and pouting.

He looked at your swollen, red lips, at your tongue lashing out to wet them seducingly.

He took his hands away. “Have your fun,” he conceded, his nails scraping your shoulders delicately as you bent forward, one of your hands catching your hair before it got messed up.

With your tongue you licked a thin stripe from the base of his cock all the way up to the tip before engulfing it in your mouth. You easily swallowed a good portion of him before pulling him out, nudging his shaft to the side with your nose and cleaning the messy marks on his belly and his pelvis where your mixed fluids on his flesh had imprinted the shape of his cock.

His moan was dark and sinful before he pleaded for a yellow.

You let him go without hesitation. “Are you okay, pup?” You asked, not even enjoying the mix of your and his taste in your mouth because of your sudden, urgent worry.

“Yeah. I just… I need a slowdown, please.” He said, touching your face weakly. “I’m getting cold.” He said, with soft eyes.

Your worry increased tenfold in your chest. First, you sat up and helped him up yourself. “Okay, Tae. Let me just rinse you, yes?” You called, removing the drain stopper and letting the water flow out before you cleaned up both you and him. The water from the tap ran warm — almost hot — a few seconds later and you managed to rinse him properly before he climbed out of the tub. You followed him and wrapped him up in a towel. “There you go, baby.” You said.

He smiled fondly. “Thank you.”

“Would you like me to dry your hair?” He asked, his beautiful hands balled up in cute fists as he held the large towel around his shoulders.

“No, baby, thank you.” You replied kindly and warmly. “Let me just rinse myself before I dry my hair. I’ll join you in bed in twenty.” You said as you noticed him linger close to the door, showing himself a bit too impatient and excited to head out, possibly to bed, with you by his side. Or on top of him. Or below him. Probably below him, considering you had just ridden him.

Caught in your head, you went back to the tub, rinsing yourself quickly and briskly before stepping out and drying yourself up gingerly, leaving your body slightly damp so that your body lotion would dilute a little with the sparse droplets left on your skin, so that it would absorb better.

Once your body smelled like roses from your breasts down, you rinsed your hands, applied your favourite hair care oil and started the hairdryer. It didn’t take long, fifteen minutes at large, before a rapping at the door interrupted your hair ritual.

You frowned. Taehyung wasn’t one to knock. Just to make sure, you lowered the setting of the hairdryer, waiting in case he did it again and making sure that you had heard correctly.

The sound reappeared.

You switched off the device and placed it in its drawer. “Yes?” You replied.

The door opened.

First, Taehyung’s face appeared, his hair ruffled and dry, his expression sweet and innocent. Was he wearing makeup?

No. Impossible.

He hadn’t actually washed his face yet, but he was definitely without makeup earlier.

His lashes looked longer. His lips redder. And he most definitely had enhanced those beautiful eyes of his with dark eyeshadow lining his upper eyelid, making his stare even more intense.

And was that a heart drawn on his cheekbone?

Indeed.

“May I?” He asked, suspiciously formal and courteous.

“Yes, of course.” You said, with a confused smile.

Next, everything made sense.

God bless him. You thought, your heart skipping a bit and stumbling down approximately sixty flights of stairs.

There, with a fancy silver tray and a fancier glass of red wine on top, stood your amazing, extravagant, glorious, mind blowing, seductive, sultry, indecently sexy, wondrous boyfriend. In a maid dress.

Your body did a strange thing, your mouth hanging open basically already drooling.

Was this how he felt anytime he saw you in lingerie?

“I thought my lady deserves special treatment.” He said, coming closer, placing the tray over the small counter near the sink.

The vinyl playing on the gramophone chose precisely that moment to come to an end.

The mechanic arm lifted and moved away, the plate slowly coming to a stop after all the spinning.

Not that you noticed, you were too busy staring at your boyfriend, imagining what you could possibly do to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t assist you with your lotion, ma’am.” He said, standing, his hands joining before his stomach. “The uniform is a bit difficult.”

“Don’t worry, darling. All forgiven.” You said, your hand shaking as you reached out to touch his face. “You look incredible.” You said, completely dazzled. “Breathtaking.”

He blushed. “Thank you.” His eyes lowered coyly.

“Really, Taehyung. You look… I am speechless, darling.” You said with a big smile plastered on your face. “You’re unreal.” You said, drawing the shape of his lips, the pink lipgloss looking impossibly perfect on his face, emphasising the desirable curves of his mouth.

He stared in marvel too as you looked completely enraptured by his looks. “You like it?” He asked, insecure.

“Yes, of course I like it, love. You look too good, baby.” You reassured him, feeling a tad underdressed standing naked in front of him, while he had several layers of satin, ribbons, lace and of course, the classy apron. He even had puffy sleeves. And the corset tightened in a complicated lacing on the front. You took in every detail. “Do you feel good in it?” You asked, letting your index finger slide down his jaw, along the curve of his neck, to the small mole on his breastbone.

He nodded. “I’ve been tiptoeing around this for a while.” He said, his hand hesitant, his eyes asking for permission to place it atop of yours.

You agreed with a short nod.

“I didn’t know how you would react.” He said, his gaze guarded.

“I love it.” You said, tightening your hand around his fingers and rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “And I love you.” You reassured him, pulling your joined hands to your face and placing a small kiss on his ring finger, where someday his wedding ring would lay. “Although we could do a few adjustments,” you said, staring at him with the eyes of a trained lingerie maker. “It could fit so much better on you.” You said, walking around him, observing the few points where the fabric slouched and flopped, unfit for his lithe body. On the back you noticed a zipper. You would remember that for later.

“Here,” you said, pinching the loose fabric around his slim waist. “And here.” You said, fingering the ribbons over his chest. “With slight modifications, we can make it more comfortable for you. And make it look like an actual uniform.” You said, standing behind him as he stood in front of the mirror. You bent to place a kiss on the crook of his neck. “How beautiful.” You said, your hands wrapping around his waist, appreciating how small it was, how elegant and expensive he looked. “Would you like it if I added a small accessory,” you asked, moving your middle finger to trace the column of his throat. “I was thinking about a choker.” You said, “something frilly. Maybe with a small kitten bell. Plenty of soft ribbons and lace. Make this neck look even prettier.” You suggested, placing another kiss on the other side of his neck, this time letting your mouth open and suck just a little.

You weren’t allowed to mark him there with all the upcoming music shows.

He nodded. “I’d love to.” He said, looking in your eyes timidly in the mirror. “But first I’d like to make myself forgiven for being late for the lotion.” He said, bowing his head. “Please, miss.”

Your head rolled back as pleasure travelled from his mouth to your ears to your core.

“Of course, kitty. As long as this is the way you want things to go.” You stated clearly. “I need your consent, kitty.”

“I want it, miss.” He assured you.

“Then proceed, kitty.” You said, wrapping your hand around his throat and tightening it affectionately.

He turned around and looked at your lips. “May I kiss you, miss?” He asked, eyes still deflecting your stare.

“Yes, kitty. Of course, darling.” You replied with a gentle smile.

He bent down slightly and swallowed nervously before placing his lips on yours, the taste was immediately familiar.

“This is not lipgloss, am I right, kitty?” You asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Yes, miss. You’re right, miss.”

Damn him. It was lube. Specifically, watermelon-flavoured lube.

You thought how long it would take for this to become too much. For him to become too hot and melt you until all there was left of you was a bottle of sap stored in the fridge.

And your title.

Your ears basked in victory at his perfect speaking manners. You had educated him properly. He was by far your best exercise in domination so far, his manners impeccable at all times when his submissive persona came into play.

“Come on, kitty. Show me how you intend to gain forgiveness.” You spoke sweetly, caressing the hair at his nape.

Soft. So soft. Always so damn soft.

He knelt. Slowly. Very slowly.

Looking up at you with pure, angelic eyes, he poked with his index finger first at your left thigh, and then at his left shoulder.

You grinned.

“You want my leg on your shoulder, kitty?” You asked with an amused smile.  

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, miss. Please, miss.”

You smiled proudly. “That’s a very good kitty.”

Taehyung kept a fond expression, saving his intentions to himself.

Let her think she won, he thought just as his hand landed at your ankle, his fingertips running up the back of your calf, your knee, your thigh, until he applied gentle pressure, inviting you to lift your leg.

Your cunt was right in front of his face, his nose sniffing at your smell, slightly adulterated by your body lotion.

He nuzzled his nose against the tiny patch of hair you kept atop your labia. He loved it without even knowing why. It simply turned him insane. All the time. Especially when he went down on you.

Your hand gripped the hair on the crown of his head, massaging the scalp delicately, but also trying to protect him from potentially bumping it against the drawer under the sink.

“Does it smell good, kitty?” You asked, smiling at him, taking in the view of him.

“Yes, miss. Can I please lick you, miss?” He asked shyly, his voice slightly more high pitched than usual.

“Yes, darling love.” You practically cooed at him.

He didn’t waste a second, his tongue ready to lunge for your opening before he stopped himself with a small gasp. “Thank you, miss.”

You felt even prouder.

God, he really is perfect.

“You’re welcome, kitty.”

And at that, the tip of his tongue brushed the tight rim of muscles lining your entrance, collecting your taste before flattening the muscle and dragging it all the way along your slit, delivering a series of hard flicks as his hands travelled to your ass, helping you ride his face straight away.

You enthusiastically followed his instructions, especially once you felt two of his fingers run from your backside to the front, sliding inside your dripping hole.

“Kitty, that’s very nice.” You said, huffing out an enthusiastic chuckle before it transformed into a sinful deep moan. You started directing his head, his tongue stretched taut past his lips while you ground your crotch against it. “Kitty, this is a very good surprise.” You said, praising him, petting his hair, your eyes closing as he moaned in approval, watching you as you grew more and more lost. You took the glass in your hand, taking a sip of wine and feeling it bloom in your mouth instantly, your cheeks warming up, your veins throbbing with the wild beat of desire awakening your every limb.

Your head rolled back, your hand immediately placing down the glass as you felt your high approach, his fingers sinking all the way to your cervix, tapping against it.

His lips captured your clit, sucking it a couple times before releasing it, pressing it to his front teeth with his strong tongue.

“Tae,” you called, too fucked out to care about pet names and stuff. Your edge was there, waiting for you, all you needed was…

He pulled out his fingers, making you cry out before they returned to their place. Shortly after, his thumb landed on your skin. Wet. Slippery. Right against the oversensitive skin between your cunt and your anus.

All it took was two gentle rubs and your body crumbled, all your weight going to the hand on the sink while your legs shook wildly, your knees too wobbly to survive your high; your other hand too moved to the sink, too scared of hurting your lover. His hands gripped you tighter instead, pushing you harder against his face while his tongue lashed out, the hard muscle grinding against your clit as he moved his head furiously in a nodding motion.

You weren’t sure you called his name or screamed or simply held your breath and stayed silent, your ears were completely out of order.

If it weren’t because of being on your feet, you would have thought you had passed out. Taehyung’s arm stayed tight around your waist while you removed your leg from his shoulder, trembling as you placed it down. “Holy hell.” You said, still gripping the sink for support. You looked at Taehyung. His whole face was covered in wetness, the heart on his cheekbone completely smeared, the only lube left on his mouth being the wetness coming from yourself. “You look amazing, Tae.” You complimented him. “A damn masterpiece.” You said, proud to your very core.

He grinned.

Kitty out. Tiger in.

“May I have some wine now?” He asked, no honorifics, no submission.

You grinned and bit your lip, wiggling your eyebrows.

He wiggles his right back.

Holding the glass, you took a large sip in your mouth, leaving a scarce finger in. You took a step back, bending at your waist and placing your mouth near Taehyung’s. He opened his mouth invitingly and you let a small amount dribble past your lips and fall into his mouth.

He patted his lips wider before stretching up surrounding your lips with his, making sure that not a drop got to waste.

Once he was sated, he placed a finger under your chin, moving it to your throat and wrapping his hand there.

“Now you’re gonna stand up and bend over, Lace.” He ordered, no trace of pliability in his demeanour, and no sign of mercy either.

You obeyed immediately.

“Hands on the sink. Keep them there.” You heard the sound of a zipper. Looking up you noticed that he was naked.

And that he was hard.

You licked your lips nervously.

“Lower your head.” He said, spanking you out of the blue.

So he was in a spanking mood. Mentally, you agreed.

“I know you want me like this. Uh?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, inhaling deeply as his fingers drew the line of your spine.

His finger stopped at the middle of your back, pressing on your spine to make it arch until it became almost painful.

“Stay.” He said, grabbing the silver platter and balancing it on your ass. The cold made you hiss, but you focused on staying perfectly still. “Stay.” He repeated, “I need to wash my hands.” He said, before abandoning the platter on your behind and coming to your side, standing right beside you as he washed slowly poured some soap on his palm, opening the tap and wetting his hands rubbing them together as he closed the tap with his elbow.

“It is always a pleasure to look at you like this.” He said, taking all the time in the world.

All you could see was his legs, midthigh down.

“You look like you don’t have a dominant bone in your body.” He mused, making sure that the thin foam reached between his fingers too. “You say ‘yes, sir’ and you sound like the single, most obedient, pliant creature in the world. Like you were made to please me.” He continued, looking at the platter tremble slightly.

He decided he could rinse his hands and dry them.

In half a minute he was standing behind you once more.

With your head hanging low, you felt the weight on your backside diminish imperceptibly. The platter disappeared next, landing on the counter.

Taehyung’s left hand laced with the hair on your nape, moving your rebellious locks aside. Now he had the whole expanse of your back before him, naked and richly arched.

Considering the situation, he cocked an eyebrow, clicking his tongue.

Something cold, like a blade pressed to your lower back, your spine arching even further.

“Stay still.” He said, bending to your ear. “If you move I’m gonna whip you.” He said minaciously.

He didn’t expect a reply, so you didn’t offer any. Cold liquid slid down the crevasse between your shoulder blades, sliding down the dip connecting your neck to your ass. Then something hot and soft appeared at the saddle of your back, where it reached the lowest spot. You put two and two together.

He was doing body shots down your spine.

You were sure when something that must have been his tongue slid all the way up to your nape. “Delicious.” He said, his hand placing down the empty glass on the counter, his erection pressing against your ass. “Let’s see if you can take it.” He murmured, standing straight and tugging at your hair until you were perched on your elbows, his reflection and yours appearing in the mirror in front of you. Which reflected the mirror behind you. Which allowed you to see Taehyung’s handsome figure.

He licked his lip and tipped his head back, looking at you cockily before gripping his hard on, rubbing the soft, velvety head against your labia, spreading your wetness before he let the tip sink in.

You moaned desperately. “Oh god.” You called, closing your eyes and looking away.

He gave a sharp tug at your hair. “Look how good you take my cock.” He said, staying perfectly still until he saw your eyes open through the reflection in the mirror.

“Please.” You begged weakly.

“What?” He asked.

“Please, sir. I’d like you to wreck me, sir.” You whined, pleading for his harsh ministrations, looking at him through the mirror.

He grinned and sunk all the way in.

You screamed.

He spanked you.

You took it with a tiny hiccup.

“Does my cock feel that good?” He asked, backing out.

“Yes, sir.” You replied meekly.

He slammed in again. “This is how you like it?” He asked sadistically, beginning to drive his hips into yours with a punishing pattern.

“Yes, sir. Please.”

“You’re such a slut for this cock.” He said, gritting his teeth, the veins at his neck bulging as his tendons flexed.

“I’m your slut, sir.” You said, ready to cry for him, completely shameless.

He grinned evilly. “Just for my cock. Such a horny fuckdoll.” He teased, delivering one more spank and making you arch your back, the tip of his cock hitting the most perfect spot, “drooling for my cock. Spitting in my mouth. Riding my face.” He rammed in even more furiously, your brow furrowing as you stared at the view of his back muscles flexing as he railed you, his glutes flashing as he hammered into you recklessly. “You’re such a dirty slut. You love being spanked, don’t you?” He asked, landing a loud smack on your other asscheek.

“I do, sir. Please, sir, please please… pl— I’m— Oh, sir.”

He went even harder, his middle finger reaching your clit and rubbing it as fast as he could. “Is this what you want? To cum on this cock? You want my fingers, little fuckdoll?” He asked deviously. “You’re such a pretty nymph. Living to get fucked.”

As you tried to turn toward him and lock your eyes with his, looking for reassurance, you spotted the side mirror, offering you the whole scene as it appeared on the right side. You ended up hypnotised by the motion of his cock sliding in and out too fast for your unfocused eyes to actually capture the whole vision.

Your high crested before you even felt it grow. It overthrew you, your arms failing you, your knees bending and your thighs pressing together.

Taehyung had none of it. His hand forcefully parted your legs again before landing a hard spank on your labia.

“Stay still and take my cock.” He said, angrily keeping his hand on your clit and rubbing it faster while he made you stand straighter, your tits appearing in the mirror in front of you, bouncing as he rammed violently into you.

The high didn’t stop. It grew even more.

He felt you milk him harder and harder. “Cum again, nymph. Cum on my cock again. Make it rain and wet the fucking floor.” He said, growling at your ear. “Look at those tits. So fucking good.” He growled, just as you shook your head in complete helplessness. “I’m gonna suck them like a baby before I fall asleep.” He said, gently slapping one until his strokes became irregular and even more ruthless.

You pushed your own hips hard against him until you finally felt that uncomfortable sensation leave your womb, eyes closing, shoulders collapsing, knees shaking and wobbling until they completely gave out, Taehyung’s body following yours and saving you from the tap as your torso landed against the sink, your legs spasming and leaving the floor as you screamed Taehyung’s name, his hand strumming your clit until you went completely silent and he heard you sob and pant. “Tae.” You called, voice thin before every sensation stopped.

You awoke to Taehyung’s hand touching your face.

“Lace, darling.” He called, “____, love.” He murmured against your ear.

First you realised your legs hurt. Like you had done too much exercise. Next, you realised he wasn’t inside you still. Some part of you felt cold.

“Tae.” You said, confused.

“Oh, baby.” He said, smiling his biggest boxy smile, touching your cheek again, dragging your hair off your eyes. “Are you okay, dove?” He asked, simply looking at you.

You nodded, confused. “I think I blacked out?” You said, trying to stand straight.

He was immediately close to you holding your hand and offering you his body as your support. “You did, love.” He confirmed. “Are you okay?” He asked again, just as you felt your foot land on a wet patch on the floor.

“Did I… ?” You asked, looking at the small puddle there.

“Yeah… ” He smiled sheepishly. “I have your blanket if you’d like.” He said, hugging you to himself.

You shook your head. “Shower?” You asked.

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

He opened the glass door and switched on the soft lights there, set them to the softest tone and helped you in, holding your hand as he used the other to open the tap and test the water for the right temperature. He grabbed your hair tie near the body wash and offered it to you.

“We’ll just rinse real quick, yeah?” He said, leading you under the spray and pouring a small amount of soap in his hands, foaming in up and rubbing it against your legs, before reaching your crotch. “I’ll go easy here,” he warned before his hand skimmed your skin, making sure that you weren’t dripping his seed anymore. Once he was done there, he rinsed his hands and poured some more body wash, repeating the procedure and removing any stain of wine from your back. Satisfied, he pulled you into his arms. “I love you so much, Lace.” He murmured in your ear. “You’re safe here, love.” He reassured you, protecting you. “You are beautiful and strong and sexy.” He said, healing any wound he had caused with his dirty talking, putting you together after pulling you apart. “You are worthy of affection, and respect and love.” He said, watching as you turned and tried to clean him up yourself, his messy eye makeup dribbling down his cheeks.

Once done with the shower, he wrapped you up in his bathrobe, a bit too big for you, making you feel hugged and extra-pampered.

He patted your head with one hand as he removed what was left of his mascara and eyeshadow. And then he placed an arm around you, back hugging you as you both brushed your teeth, his body clad in a towel before he swapped it for a pair of boxers and a sleeping shirt.

“Let’s put you into this.” He said, grabbing one of his robes from his sleeping clothes and wrapping you up in it, lacing your hands with his as you both reached the kitchen.

You stayed silent as he helped you sit on the counter, standing between your legs as he reached for a bottle of water and two glasses, stretching to reach your sleeping pills. He offered you a glass and got a pill ready, passing it to you once he managed to work it open. “There you go, love.”

You nodded and downed the pill, forcing yourself to finish the large cup of water, just as he downed his own, looking at you and making sure that you drank it all.

You placed the cup down and hugged him, waiting for him to finish.

He took your hand in his again, keeping you as close to him as possible as he brought the cups to the sink and led the two of you back to the bedroom.

You climbed the bed absentmindedly as he entered the closet, coming out with a rather large tiger plushie and a fluffy blanket with a polar bear print.

Crawling close to you, he waited for you to remove the robe and slide underneath the covers. Next he threw the blanket on top of your body, making sure that it stayed close to your face. After that, he placed the plushie in your arms, tucking the blanket tight. On his bedside table, he switched on the air purifier, the gentle scent of pine filling the room.

The lights went off.

His body came closer to yours and you cuddled in absentmindedly, his limbs tightening around your shape, warming you up immediately.

“I love you, Lace.” He said, again.

“I love you too,” you replied softly before a yawn.

“My pretty dove. Beautiful dove. My angel… My fairy… My joy… My peace...” And with a litany of sweet praises whispered in your ear, you fell asleep like a baby.

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