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mrwinterr · 3 years

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Over & Over

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Pornstar!Female Reader

Summary: You’re an up-and-coming adult film star secretly eager to work with the popular Bucky Barnes, and with just the right connections, your paths cross much sooner than later.

Warnings: Adult themes. Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration and instructional fingering, oral [male & female receiving], size kink, spit & cum play, a smudge of male dominance), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: I don’t know how the porn industry works; this was just written for fun.

Title Inspiration: “Over & Over” by Smallpools

A/N: After doping up on strong painkillers wasn’t enough, I thought releasing endorphins would help ease my headache, so once again watching porn inspired another fic. Idk. I’m a mess. Enjoy!

Slipping on your oversized sunglasses, you walk along the rectangular outline of the hotel’s lavish pool, to one of the vacant lounge chairs next to the redheaded goddess, whose wings you were taken under and could gratefully call a close friend. You hadn’t known a single soul when you packed up and moved west to Los Angeles at 18, but you knew you were destined for more than what your humdrum life back at home could offer.

The porn industry wasn’t your first choice at a career in entertainment, but the starving profession wasn’t paying the bills fast enough. You weren’t going to survive in L.A. another year juggling to pay for tuition and stay enrolled in acting school from the income of working menial jobs and booking small gigs. However, one minor role as an extra in a one-night stand sex scene of a TV show, you catch the eye of the multitalented adult film actress Natasha Romanoff.

It was pure coincidence she was also casted, playing a bigger role, of the same episode, but she saw more in you in your less than 15 seconds of fame than most casting agents did before offering you a chance to shadow her. You knew she looked familiar and you were no stranger to watching porn, but when you’re as down on your luck as you were, you went all in and soon enough countless scenes now under your belt within a year, you’re porn’s best female newcomer.

“There’s this year’s Best New Starlet!” Natasha proclaims loudly for almost everyone around to hear.

Lucky for you, the shades conceal the roll of your eyes at her comment as you kick off your flip-flops and remove the thin cover up to reveal your skimpy bikini. You dare look over at her in time to catch her mocking reaction, jaw dropped from your attitude.

“After all I’ve done for you,” she says, placing a hand to her heart, feigning hurt.

The pair of you laugh at your nonsense and after she helps you with applying the appropriate amount of sun care protection, you recline in your seats and attempt to soak up some sun. It was a much-needed break with the long stressful week of the award show now behind everyone. Your hard work had paid off and after all you did learn from the best.

Your predecessor before you, Natasha was also a former Best New Starlet, and now is a household name in pornography. She didn’t welcome a lot of people into her inner circle, but she had plans to one day direct and knew she had to find the next big thing before anyone else to take her place.

“Hello, ladies,” comes from the voice of this year’s Director of the Year and other close friend Wanda Maximoff.

“Hey Wanda,” you greet her by sitting up to give her a proper hug.

You met her through her twin brother, Pietro, who happened to be your first co-star and was very welcoming and caring to you. The twins took care of you during your first few months starting out. Much like Natasha did for you, you help her administer the same amount of sunscreen on her body.

“Congrats on your achievement,” she says wholeheartedly, looking over her shoulder at you as you finish up on her back, and even under the heat of the sun, she could still see the blush creep up on your face.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Natasha comments casually, to which Wanda nods enthusiastically, only speeding up the process of the rose tints on your cheeks to spread all over your face. They were your biggest fans and supporters; you were so happy you could make them proud.

“I owe it all to the queen herself,” you say, downplaying your achievement and turning the attention to your mentor in Natasha. She scoffs at that and teases you about just taking the damn compliment. You put in the work; it was all you.

“Seriously, you deserved it,” Wanda says honestly, and you finally accept the praise.

“So, what’s next for miss Director of the Year?” Natasha asks leaning on a propped elbow, body facing towards you and Wanda.

“Well, I managed to finally book Bucky Barnes in an upcoming project…” she starts out, but the moment you heard his name slip from her lips, the rest almost didn’t matter.

Bucky Barnes was somewhat of a legend. There wasn’t a model or director that didn’t want to work with him. The man was downright gifted in every aspect and his work speaks for itself. Before you broke onto the scene, you’d gotten off to his videos, and only dreamed of one day starring in a scene with him, but you were still new to this world.

As a promising star, you had a long way to go and tons of plots, positions and people to still experience, so landing a role with someone like Bucky Barnes wasn’t entirely written in your plans any time soon. Then again, your first girl-on-girl scene was with your mentor herself, so anything could happen, right?

“I just haven’t found my girl yet,” was the next thing you pick up Wanda say the moment your head comes back from the clouds, “...I have all this momentum now that I want this to blow everyone away, especially Stark.”

Tony Stark was her rival. It was a friendly competition amongst friends. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work for him yet. He was a playful character and had directed some of the best adult films out there, Wanda just happened to be the better of the two this year…

“Sorry, I’m retired,” Natasha reminds her and repositions herself on her back.

“Fuck you,” Wanda says playfully to which Natasha responds with a finger in the air before she clarifies, “I was hinting at this year’s Best New Starlet…” and slyly looking in your directly.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. Your head can’t even start processing that you’re finally getting the opportunity to work with Bucky.

Wanda rolls her eyes at your obliviousness, “no, last year’s Best New Starlet. Hell no! Of course, you!” You respond in the same manner as your mentor, who is more than amused at you also following her lead, and flip Wanda off. Wanda snatches your hand to bring it away from her face, “I’m serious!”

“I-I don’t know, Wan,” a part of you is a little scared that you’re not going to be able to keep up with someone as established and with the star power as Bucky, “...like you said, you have all this momentum behind you. I don’t want to fuck this scene up because I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Natasha pipes up on the other side of you. “This is the perfect role for you!” She sees the questionable look on your face and sighs before explaining. “You’re a fresh face and rising star! People are lining up to book you, Stark included.”

“Nat is right. You’re a hot commodity now! I need someone who is a little inexperienced to mix with someone that is,” Wanda further explains her premise, “let him take the lead, but at your pace. I need it to be raw and passionate. People love that shit!” They were right, he had all the experience, and you were a fresh loveable face. It was the perfect combination.

You remain quiet for several seconds before Natasha rats you out, “and don’t even try to act like you don’t want to work with Barnes. This is your fantasy come to life.” Way to throw you under the bus like that…

There’s no denying your goal to work with him. He’d been in this business much longer than you had, you didn’t think your paths would ever cross on a set, but the opportunity couldn’t have presented itself in a more perfect point in your career.

The room is very pristine. White walls with a king size bed, also adorned in white sheets, fluffy pillows scattered at the top, minimal furniture around to make it look realistic, and the lighting was just right. Wanda had received a hefty budget after her recognition that’s for sure.

“Alright, girly, let’s get you on the bed!” Wanda happily directs.

You nod silently, remove your footwear and plop down on the center of the large mattress. You decide to leave your legs sprawled on one side of your body, settling on a bashful position. It’s not hard for you because although you agreed to do this and have done several scenes, internally, you’re freaking the fuck out. Unbeknownst to you, it’s all part of your charm; the innocence you somehow still radiated was an all too endearing quality and actually sexy.

Even your attire was pretty modest, opting for a more casual look with black leggings and a tight long sleeve that accentuates your figure and shows off the right amount of cleavage. It was something that you could easily wear out in public, which again was a part of your brand in being as natural as possible, but come the right circumstances, when it was time to roll you could turn on the right switch.

“We’ll start off like a typical casting interview before we bring Bucky in and then we’ll go from there. Sounds good?” She runs down the plan with you, fixing a few strands of flyaway hairs on your head before back away from the bed. With a thumbs up and a smile from you, she starts recording.

“Welcome, Best New Starlet of the Year!” Wanda greets from behind the camera.

“Hi,” you politely reply with your signature sweet smile and a wave to the screen.

These scenes start off with a small interview recounting your tale into the porn industry leading up to your recent achievement and even delving a bit into your personal life before the topic changes to your co-star.

“So, how excited are you to work with Bucky today?”

No matter how hard you practiced at keeping a straight poker face, that was something you were unable to master from Natasha, and the blush couldn’t be contained.

Fidgeting at the hem of your top, you open and close your mouth, trying to find the right words. You’re overly flustered at the thought of Bucky and he wasn’t even in front of you yet. You don’t want to sound like a fool and ruin the atmosphere. Wanda mouths words of advice from where she sat in the director’s chair, “be honest.”

“Um, I’m...nervous,” you say truthfully.

“Nervous?” She questions, urging you to elaborate.

“Yeah, he’s Bucky Barnes! He’s hot and he’s got so much experience. I’m kind of scared I’ll be boring,” you finish explaining and hope to God that Natasha doesn’t kill you afterwards, or with that answer let Wanda down, but the smile on her face sends you a wave of assurance.

Maybe you could do this...

Earlier that day, Bucky had already recorded his little opening scene. Wanda had called him to report on set before you were scheduled to arrive.

On the contrary, Bucky was also a tab bit anxious to work with you. He’d seen some of your work and more so heard about your talent from his own best friend, Steve Rogers.

He didn’t deny it, he was very much attracted to you and he wanted a chance to work with you too. Bucky wasn’t a jealous person, which made working in the porn industry easy for him, but when he had to hear Steve recount his scenes with you, he couldn’t help but want to sock his own childhood friend. He didn’t of course, but the rage was evident and his other friend, Sam Wilson, took some sick pleasure in teasing him over it. In fact, the eccentric personality of the trio of friends, decided to tag along with Bucky to introduce himself to you and get under his skin a little more.

“What’s going on in that nasty head of yours?” Sam poked at Bucky as they made their way over to Wanda, who was by the camera setup going over a script with another stagehand. When Bucky doesn’t respond, it provokes Sam even more, “no way, you’re nervous!”

Bucky sighs fed up with dealing with the anxiety brewing ever since he found out he was going to star in this film with you. “Shut the fuck up, will you? Of course, I’m nervous,” he says, trying to remain calm.

“Dude, you’ve slept with some of the hottest people in the world and millions of people have seen you naked. Why is one girl any different?” Sam wonders.

“I don’t know, ok. She just seems so down-to-earth and normal?” Bucky attempts to explain. You were real. His work was just that, it was a work, and he was afraid that it would be different with you. He could say he was almost intimidated by you.

“Yeah, as if I don’t have to hear that enough from Rogers…” Sam chimed in. Steve had nothing but high praise for your performance. In fact, his testimony helped expose you a little further. He was an honorable performer and a respected one, so they took his word on you. “Maybe, I’ll be her next co-star,” and just like that Sam ruined a moment.

“God, I hate you,” was the last thing exchanged between the two friends as they finally reached Wanda. She warned Sam to behave and gave Bucky a quick rundown before instructing him to hop on the bed.

Bucky’s interview starts a little differently than yours. Having already been a more established performer than yourself, no one needed his background story. The only thing Wanda wanted out of him was his plans and opinion on you.

“Well, I don’t know too much about her, personally speaking...but everyone seems to love her,” Bucky’s answer was a bit bland for Wanda.

“She’s a great person to work with,” she comments and that’s a tactic most directors used to get talent to keep talking.

“That’s what Steve keeps saying,” he says with somewhat of an awkward light laugh. He could see Sam facepalming next to Wanda at that lame answer.

“Yeah, you don’t win best female newcomer for nothing,” Wanda points out. If anyone was the lucky one here, it was Bucky. He was climbing up in age and you were the next big thing. You were the real star of this film not Bucky. She was counting more on you to deliver than him.

“That’s right. She’s a very talented performer,” Bucky says, and this small comment opens up a can of worms for Wanda to build up on.

“Oh, so you’ve seen some of her work?” Bam! He was caught.

Bucky’s mouth starts twitching slightly and Wanda and Sam are smirking from their spots as they watch the gears in Bucky’s mind start turning faster trying to think of something. The only piece of advice Wanda gives is “be honest.”

He sighs, the jig was up. Smooth Bucky Barnes was caught red-handed, “yeah, I’ve watched some scenes. I’ve seen her in person a few times too…”

“Wait,” Wanda interrupts him abruptly. She knew you were attracted to Bucky, but never knew of any encounters between you two, “when did you meet her?”

“I haven’t,” Bucky starts, which causes a look of mass confusion on Wanda’s face before he follows up, “formally. I haven’t met her formally, but I’ve seen her at a few parties and at the award show...I was just nervous to walk up to her,” the words just kept flowing out of his mouth and he inwardly cringed at how awkward he might’ve sounded.

Sam was amused by his embarrassment, but Wanda was pleased with this result. Bucky was good at what he did and that included him trying to play it cool, which he did well on screen, sometimes.

“You know she was actually thrilled to find out she would be working with you,” Wanda said, stretching the truth. The truth was, you hadn’t verbally confessed that, at least not yet.

“Really?” Bucky asks all too hopeful, his mood noticeably perking up.

“Yup! Ever since she won Best New Starlet of the Year, people have been lining up to book her, but she chose this project. You were the deal breaker, Barnes,” she fabricated and hoped this all worked out for you two in the end.

“Wow, who would’ve thought this has-been still had it in him?” He jokes at himself. His humility would get the best of him in every situation.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself! You didn’t win Best Male Performer of the Year again for nothing!” Wanda says and then steers the interview to a close.

After wrapping up Bucky’s scene, he’s allowed to stay in another room with a monitor. At first, he thinks it’s to help him prep for the scene, but to his surprise it’s a live feed of your interview and he starts clinging onto your every word. Enthralled by your journey, work ethic and he gets flustered all over again hearing you talk about your equal eagerness to work with him.

“You know, if anyone is the lucky one in this situation, it’s Barnes,” Wanda reminds as your interview comes to an end.

“Right,” you sarcastically remark.

“Are you ready for us to bring Bucky in?” She asks.

“It’s now or never,” you reply.

You watch the doorknob twist and the door open to slowly reveal Bucky. Where do you even start with him? He just looked like the total package. His gaze immediately on yours. As he makes his way towards the bed you’re still sitting on, when his knee comes in contact to the edge, you maneuver your body in his direction, sit up on your knees to meet him halfway and welcome him in a hug.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he says when you pull apart. The both of you don’t break away completely. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, his hands placed just above your waist, you can feel his fingers that slipped under the fabric rub your skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you respond, giving him a genuine smile and can’t help but stare at his pretty face. You had to remind yourself he’s just another guy, except he wasn’t. You didn’t know how he felt, but you wanted this, wanted him. You also don’t know if you’ll ever work him again after today, so he was going to get the real you.

A small, subtle clearing of someone’s throat shatters the staring contest between you and Bucky causing you both to sheepishly break away from the other, not realizing you’d both allowed dreaded dead airtime to pass by. You scoot over to make room for him next to you on the bed. After he pulls his footwear off, he sits cross legged in front of you, you have one leg tucked in and the other extended in front.

Bucky’s not entirely oblivious. He not only witnessed you backstage reveal you were actually nervous to work with him, he could feel it, so at an attempt to help ease both your nerves, he places a hand on your shin and absentmindedly run his hand up and down the fabric, fingers sometimes stopping to mess with the cuff of your leggings and at the skin of your ankle, while he listened to you speak.

He congratulated you on your achievement as you did with him, both a blushing mess before diving into different topics like traveling and other interests.

Wanda stood proudly behind the camera watching the scene unfold. Everything was so candid and real between you and Bucky, the chemistry was clearly evident, she didn’t foresee there would be much directing on her part today, which was going to make her job easy.

“Wanda said you were excited to work with me,” Bucky teases, wanting to see if what you said was just for the cameras or if it was really true, but also, he found out he liked to see you get all hot and bothered in more than one way.

Your jaw drops and you look directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall, calling out to Wanda. You playfully chastise and curse at her for revealing your secret. She tells you it was going to come out anyways, and while that was true, you’d hoped it was later and much after you’ve slept with him, hoping it doesn’t ruin the shoot, but Bucky assures you that it’s actually a flattering to hear or in his words, “assuring” for someone like him.

“Are you kidding?” You say, lightly shoving him back, “you’re like a legend! Of course, I was excited! I’m surprised you agreed to work with a rookie like me!” Now that the cat was out of the bag, you might as well own up to your secret.

“Everyone wants to work with you,” he makes clear, leaning in closer. Fuck, he didn’t even need to initiate foreplay because with the way he was looking at you right now, you could come swear you’d come undone for him in an instant.

“Oh really?” You challenge, your body gravitating like a magnet towards his.

“Yup, Steve wouldn’t shut up about you and even Sam said he can’t wait to someday work with you,” he said, voice slowly dropping in decibels and his hands sliding up your thighs.

“Did he?” You ask, but you don’t really care about Sam as your eyes look dead into Bucky’s blue ones, swirling into a darker shade full of deep want and desire.

“Yeah, but let’s see if he still wants to try to outdo me after I’m done with you,” he whispers, finally closing the gap between your lips in a sweet kiss. It was about as sweet as it could last because after just one taste of your lips, he was a starved man, hungry for more. You tried your best to match his pace and the kiss turned sloppy very quick.

You moaned at the pressure of his lips pressed roughly against yours, and you do your best to keep up, but you’re already finding yourself short of breath. However, the more you try to pull back to regain some oxygen, the more he’s unwilling to part as he grasps your face in both hands to keep you still, so you lightly squeeze at his biceps as a warning in hope he gets the message.

Lucky for you, he does and lets up. He’s also noticeably breathless, his warm breath fanning against your kiss-swollen lips, his forehead resting against yours. Bucky’s hands are still on your face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and you let out a small chuckle at the sincerity. He was cute.

You take his hands in yours and bring them back down to begin undressing him starting by helping him slip his shirt over his head, the fashionable dog tags around his neck clank as it slaps against his toned chest, you let him keep them on though.

Bucky sits up on his knees as he watches you settle on your stomach, propped up by your elbows, hands getting ready to work on his lower half. He patiently watches as you unbuckle his belt, pop the button of his jeans off, and drag the zipper down.

With his pants hanging loose off his hips, you begin to plant soft kisses along his navel down the defined lines that lead to his cock. Each contact of your lips sends a ghostly tingle and the blood to rush even quicker down his lower region. The imprint of his endowed member doesn’t leave much to your imagination, you can already see the stain where the tip is through his tight boxer briefs. It gives you a little boost of confidence knowing you’d caused this and would get to take care of it.

You hook your fingers into the undergarment and tug them down his muscular thighs. His cock springs out, almost hitting you in the face causing you to jolt back a little and a smile to spread across Bucky’s.

Your clumsiness was also a part of your charm. It wasn’t on purpose, you were still learning after all, and that’s what made it so unique and fun to work with you. Your partners just felt a real, genuine connection, citing it felt less choreographed and of a porno with you.

A little embarrassed about that move, you’d watched what he can do with that cock, but nothing could’ve prepared you for it face-to-face. You don’t waste any time on getting your hands on him and wrap your fingers around his half-hard cock and start pumping him sensually.

He’s hot and soft in your hands before getting gradually heavy. The look in your eyes grows more predatory as you watch him grow and feel him getting harder with each pump causing more and more pre-cum to ooze out. You spread it all over the head of his cock with your thumb then daring to look up at him, hoping he was indeed enjoying your work, before you pucker your lips and kiss at the crown. Bucky curses when he sees your lips shining, coated in his pre-cum, with a string connecting you to his cock.

You gather the fluid up in your hand before spreading it all over his length, when it’s not enough you start not only pumping him faster, but also licking up and down, from the base to the tip, hoping to effectively slick him up. The way your tongue scrapes along over Bucky’s sensitive flesh stirs him up. Your other hand joins in to fondle with his neglected balls, massaging and pulling at them in the right moments, sometimes you travel a little south and take them in your mouth. It all but drives Bucky wild and it’s confirmed with each swear that leaves his mouth.

Bucky wants nothing more than to lodge himself deep in your throat, but he remembers he needs to go at your pace, and once you’re broken in a little more, you could follow his, so he’ll bide his time for now and watch you work.

When you’re ready to take him in, you regain his attention and he watches you slowly take in his inches down your mouth, stopping halfway before your wide-open mouth hollows out. Your full mouth immediately waters around him and it doesn’t take long before you’re a drooling mess all over his cock. You pull back torturously slow, looking back down watching his cock reappear and loving the way it disappears back in, and especially how it feels when it drags through your mouth, taking note of the veins and unique ridges.

“Don’t be like that, doll,” he says, wiping some of the hair away from your face, “come on and show me why they don’t stop talking about you,” he coaxes, now gathering some of your locks in his hand to completely give you both a clear view. He tries his best to not take the lead, but you don’t disappoint as your mouth works faster on him. The gagging and sucking, mixed with Bucky’s moans of pleasure soon become the soundtrack.

You’d gradually take him more and more in, close to deep throating him, and you’re just ready to let up, but he can’t help it and before your last round, he holds your head in place.

“Don’t quit now, baby,” he encourages you, placing his other hand on the back of your head, keeping you still and carefully starts to thrust his hips, urging you to take him all the way, “...that’s it, you can do it, you can take it,” he releases a big sigh feeling the tip of your nose bump his lower abdomen. The moisture builds up in the inner corner of your eyes and you do your best to mind your breathing and not choke.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but shout when he feels your throat contract around him. You just looked so divine, mouth full of his cock. He keeps you there for a few seconds, before releasing his hold, and you immediately pull back, drool dribbles down your chin, and you’re desperate for oxygen to return back into your system. He grabs your face by your chin forcing you to look up at him.

He uses his fingers to scoop up some of the mixed fluids of his arousal and your saliva at your chin before presenting it in front of you. You easily read his mind, look up at him with big, watery eyes, and take his coated digits in your abused mouth sucking the juices clean off him.

He growls and commends you, “...such a good girl.” When he slips his fingers out of your mouth, a small pop could faintly be heard, he gently yanks at your hair, craning your head back further, it’s almost painful but you don’t care, “do it again,” he demands.

You bite your lip and reposition yourself. Bucky settles in a more comfortable position on his back, completely rid of his pants and underwear, his legs spread open for you to lie between them. Before you get back to the job, you slip your tight top off, all-natural breasts spilling out and on display for him. His cock twitches at the sight and he lets his head fall back when he’s once more fully encased in the warm, wet cavern of your mouth.

When he finally starts begging you to let up, you pull back slowly pumping him and watch his every move, the rise of his chest as it heaves from the activity, the way he runs his hands over his face. He’s absolutely stunned by your performance so far.

“On your back,” he says, and you do as he commands, and forget who is supposed to really be in charge. He yanks your leggings and panties all the way down, chucking them behind him somewhere in the corner of the room.

“You’re so sexy,” he compliments, eyes taking in every inch of your naked body, hands getting their fill. His body dips, lips latching onto your breasts, kissing at the skin and sucking on each nipple before they make their way up the juncture of your neck and claim your lips again.

You feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and they part to grant him full access. You barely notice how he takes a hold of one of your hands, he pulls his face away to bring the hand in his grasp up to your face, using your fingers to trace the outline of your lips. You see him inaudibly instruct you to open your mouth, you do as you’re told.

“That’s right get those fingers nice and wet,” he coaxes you to suck on your own digits until he deems you ready for the next move. When he finally does pull your fingers out from your mouth, he extends your arm, ghosting them just over your pussy.

“Play with that clit,” he tells you and you don’t need to be told twice. Your pussy was begging for any kind of attention. You let your wet fingers roll over the bundle of nerves, puffs of breath escape your body as you’re finally attending to your own needs.

Bucky sits back and watches you intently, fascinated by your every move. He instructs you to close your eyes and listen to his voice, instructing you to go slow at first, “does that feel good?” the only reply he gets is a fast nod, “yeah? Make yourself feel good...that’s it,” his words only encourage your fingers to soon work faster, “let me hear how good it feels,” he demands, and you moan and whine like the true pornstar you are, your circular motions speed up, the lewd noises egg him on and soon enough he wants a taste.

“Let me help you out,” and you feel the bed shift a bit, “spread those wet lips for me,” he requests. You use both hands to invite him into your wet, glistening hole. You pick your head up to see his face buried between your thighs, you watch just long enough until each broad lick up and down your pussy sends you close to the edge.

He no longer needs the support of your hands, and they find purchase in his dark, fluffy hair as he starts sucking on your clit and tonguing your folds. At first, you’re doing a good job keeping your legs apart to accommodate him, but it gets harder and harder for them to not clamp around his head, with every nudge the tip of his nose makes at your clit and it doesn’t help your case when he inserts a finger inside you. With a good curl, his finger scratches dangerously close to your sweet spot, causing your legs to start quivering.

The sudden hitch in your breathing catches his attention, and Bucky tests the waters more by digging in deeper and curling in further. He notices the increasing agitation and knows he’s found the trigger.

“Bucky,” you whine, hoping he doesn’t push you over just yet. You want to last longer, and so you reluctantly attempt to scoot back further away, but the sudden strong grip he has around your leg locks you in place. You pick your head back up and find Bucky’s eyes trained on you. You see the stoic look in his eyes laced with determination. Oh no, he wanted you to come now. You feel a hum from his full mouth, only pushing you further.

“Don’t hold back,” he says against your pussy, “let go,” and the gruff in his voice, vibrating against you, his thick digits still curled deep inside you, you can’t hold back the floodgates from bursting any longer.

He laps up your arousal as you desperately try to regain composure. He really pulled one out of you, proving he was as every bit good as he put out and you’re not even close to the end of this scene.

“Come here,” he says, getting back on his knees and pulling you up by your arms so you’re in an up-right sitting position once again, but with Bucky still towering over you, “open up.”

You comply and open your mouth wide, tongue out, not understanding his motive, and you’re met with full surprise when he spits in your mouth, a firm grip on your face, he holds you still.

“Don’t swallow,” he gravely warns. You feel and probably look stupid not knowing what he wants you to do with your mouth open wide and full of his spit mingling with your arousal, just trying to keep it all contained. Bucky was testing your patience and obedience and you passed every test so far. You were just the right amount of submissive, absolutely perfect.

You can feel his hard cock pressing up against your sensitive pussy, it slides up between your folds and the base rests on top of your mound. “Drool it out...on my cock,” he instructs. Oh. He guides your gaze down between your bodies, you purse your lips, and both watch as the liquid cascades down onto his erect member. He uses it to lube himself up before he pushes you down to lie flat on your back.

Bucky slowly but easily slips inside your wet channel but notices your slight struggle. He was big, and he gets it. The way your eyes are tightly shut, hands pulling at the sheets, you struggle to breath and your walls cruelly grip him tight. Normally, he’d just pound away until his partner got used to him, but he didn’t want to do that with you. He wanted you to enjoy feeling him.

He tries to help you relax by rubbing your thighs a little with soothing motions, when they fall limp on either side, he leans down, you feel the cool metal of his dog tags against your heated skin, his weight sort of comforting on yours, and arms entrapping your head. He lovingly calls out your name, and your eyes flutter open, your attention refocusing on him.

“We’ll go at your pace, alright?” he assures you. You curse yourself for allowing your heart to swell at his concern, but you nod giving him permission to move slowly. Your whimpers soon transition into pleasurable moans, the more your body begins to adjust to his.

“Damn, you’re so tight. You’ve never been stretched out like this by anyone before have you?” he dares ask, once he sees it’s a safe playing field once more, his hips moving slow, his cock sliding in and out of you. You attempt at a laugh between your ragged breathing and the intense sensation coursing through you.

“No,” you respond and kiss at his chin, the light stubble pricking your soft lips, “you’re so big.” You feel his cock twitch inside and you want to curse yourself again at the comment that unintentionally riles him up because he was nestled close to your spot again. Fuck, he could reach just the right depth in you.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you don’t want to go slow anymore. Fuck Wanda and this movie, you wanted all of Bucky now, “please fuck me,” you resort to begging. He inwardly growls and his hips start snapping forward, thrusts growing hard and uncalculated. You just lie there and allow him to use your pussy for his pleasure.

Bucky’s movements falter a bit in this position, so he steers both your bodies on their sides, still facing each other, he slings your leg high up over his hips, and resumes his task. His cock glides right back in your pussy and the new angle causes you to yelp and walls to clench around him.

“You feel so good,” his voice riddled with so much lust as he brings your body closer to his with a hand behind, full of your plushest asset. Your head rests on the bicep of his other arm that was underneath it.

Bucky’s expressive eyes ask you if you're close, and the more your walls continue to grip him, he starts begging for you to come with him. “I’m gonna cum,” he warns, giving up and letting you take the rest of the lead.

“Yeah?” you huff out, your fingers digging into the side of his hips, “you want to cum inside me?” You know he does; you can feel and see it written all over him, but you want to just poke at him like he had with you, “I want you to...I want all your cum inside me, Bucky,” and you wanted him to cum hard, deep inside, “fill my tight pussy up, please,” you plead.

With one more jab of his hips, your back arches and head is thrown back, you can’t help but let out a scream as your orgasm rips right through you like it’s never before. Bucky’s body on the other hand caves into yours, feeling almost paralyzed as your tight walls hold him in place and all he can do is bury his face into the sweaty skin of your neck.

His mouth hangs open, a plethora of profanities coming out of him, and he waits for his cock to finish spewing ropes of his hot, thick cum into you. Your walls can’t help but to involuntarily contract in small aftershocks, especially when he’s still coming.

Bucky continues to moan as he does as you hoped, he came hard and deep inside you. When you’ve both finally come down from the high, it’s silent, and even though you’d both long forgotten you were on a set with multiple people watching you two, they were also quiet, completely taken back by the performance.

Incoherent cries come out of each of you, when Bucky agonizingly pulls his cock out. For the most part you’re able to keep him inside, but he’d proven to come so much some of it seeps out and runs down in streak fashion along your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

In your last act, as your gazes meet each other again, your fingers dip inside your soaked cunt and coat them. Hypnotized by you, Bucky watches as you greedily suck off his essence from your digits, and you evoke a small hum in his favor at the taste bursting in your mouth.

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, trying to not lose it again. When your hand disappears, he tenderly wipes the matted hair away from your face, smoothing your hair back before pulling your body close again, swooping your lips for a deep kiss.

“Shit, you’re good,” he admits, when he pulls away, effectively breaking the blissful silence. You bust out in a fit of giggles beside him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s not something you’re supposed to feel towards your co-star, especially in the porn industry.

He smiles at you, basking in your afterglow and all he knows is that he wants to feel this high with you over and over, so he decides to risk it all, “I hope this doesn’t ruin the moment, but can I take you out some time?”

You try your best to read him, wondering if he was just still in the heat of the moment. Either he’s really good or he’s being sincere, you can’t tell and you’re hoping you’re not overthinking it, but his eyes, this whole time, were what gave him away. He performed with them and he definitely spoke through them.

Before you could accept and give him a definite answer, you’re both brought back to reality, “we’re still rolling here!” Wanda reminds.

A/N: Thank the pain meds for this. I think I effectively used up my vacation days the right way, won’t you agree? Likes, reblogs and comments/emojis are appreciated!

#mrwinterr writes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #pornstar!bucky barnes #pornstar!bucky #pornstar!bucky au

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belfrygargoyles · 3 years

Note

*whispers* I would like to hear what you have to say on reader inserts in the SW fandom because I too have a problem with them and I feel like not enough people are calling it out 👉👈

I’ve made a few posts about it in the past but I think it’s high time I actually Do This and really get into it.

Before I start: 1) This will be in specific reference to fanfiction written for the Star Wars fandom, particularly tcw and the mandalorian eras, 2) A lot of the issues come down to racist fetishization of men of color by white women; I am white, so there is much that is simply not my place to make statements on. What I can speak most on is my take from the gender side of things.

I’d honestly recommend reading this post by @nibeul with addition by @clonehub first, as they discuss the core issue with reader inserts in the Star Wars fandom.

And 3) some of this will involve discussion of sexual acts (as they relate to fanfiction) and sexual fantasies. These discussions will be non-explicit, and no pornographic text or content will be displayed.

Also. I’m GNC and nonbinary. I’m also a very feminine looking person that falls under the generalization of “small and petite.” I don’t have dysphoria, I like my body and the traits I have, and treating them like inherently female sends me into a blind fury. This is, unfortunately, important.

For the sake of making sure I come across as clearly as possible, I will be writing as though the reader of this post has never read or is broadly unfamiliar with reader-insert fanfiction.

Without further ado.

Hey, Star Wars reader insert fic writers? Please get your shit together.

INTRODUCTION

I’ve been reading reader-insert fanfiction since I was a grade schooler waking up early to check Quizilla. I love it! It got me into fandom, kept me engaged, helped me make and develop some of my oldest OCs, and it’s just fun to read and write- it’s like a self-indulgent little gift you can give to a bunch of people all at once. Because who doesn’t like the idea of starring in their own little adventure, usually alongside some of their favorite characters? It can be fun, immersive, get you attached in ways other ways of fandom interaction may not, make you feel just a little bit special, or be a way to express some feelings you might have about canon and the way the story went.

Like any form of fiction, it ends up saying more about the author’s feelings than anything else, whether the author realizes it or not. For many, many authors of reader-insert fanfiction, the primary enjoyment comes from writing “themselves” into the story- before the readers, the author most often makes the “reader character” someone they, themselves, can relate to and substitute for themselves. They write to live out a self-indulgent fantasy they have, and their readers can come along for the ride.

Some writers do actually try to write as diverse or as vague of a reader character as possible- as few details about the body, identity, etc. as possible so anyone could superimpose their image without the narrative directly contradicting it. This is not the kind of reader insert author I will be discussing.

The kind of author I will be discussing is the one most common in the Star Wars tag on Ao3: White, AFAB, cisgender, gender-conforming, able-bodied women who assume all of their readers are also White, AFAB, cisgender, gender-conforming, able-bodied women. Yes, you can tell.

ISSUE: fetishization of men of color

Again, this post puts it in the best words, but there is a rampant problem with Star Wars reader-inserts, particularly those involving the clones, Boba Fett, and Din Djarin, fetishizing characters played by men of color as either “physically aggressive and threatening, hypersexual and dominant, big strong men who are scary because they do violence and fuck constantly when they’re not” or “completely inexperienced baby who doesn’t know anything about things and needs a gentle nurturing guiding touch to introduce him to the mere idea of a vagina.” The former is common across all of them, the latter most common among clone trooper fics or Din/Reader.

I went into the Boba Fett/Reader tag on Ao3, because I like him and hoped to find something alright. Here are some stats I tallied up (give or take some) based solely on tags, summaries, and warnings:

There are 284 works in the Boba Fett/Reader category as of the time of this post.

198/284 are rated E for explicit sexual content. 69.7% of all Boba Fett/Reader works are sexually explicit.

259/284 are in the F/M category. 91.2% of all Boba Fett/Reader works involve an explicitly female or AFAB reader.

24/284 are tagged with or mention “Age difference,” “Older man/Younger woman,” “Innocence kink” or “Virginity kink.” 8.4% of all Boba Fett/Reader works are written explicitly with an age gap, with Boba Fett as the older party

26/198 E rated fics are tagged with or make reference to “Daddy kink” or involve the reader being called some variation of “little girl” by Boba. 13% of all E-rated works under Boba Fett/Reader are daddy kink fics, or allude to Boba Fett being a daddy dom/sugar daddy.

102/198 E rated fics are tagged as, make reference to, or suggest in the summary that Boba Fett takes a dominant sexual role with a submissive reader involving rough or painful play, or make reference to Boba Fett being frightening, physically intimidating, having a power dynamic over the reader, or being possessive or violent. 51.51% of all E-rated works under Boba Fett/Reader portray Boba Fett as sexually dominant and/or enacting use of physical force or pain play.

Just using this as an example, because it’s the easiest stats I can gather and also what made me realize there was a pattern.

The problem isn’t even necessarily that people write explicit fic about Boba- it’s that 1) over half of all fics in the category are explicitly pornographic, and 2) the way those pornographic fics are written. The two things compound on each other. They’re dominance fantasies projected onto a character of color in which he becomes extremely sexual, physically rough with the reader, possessive, and demeaning towards a reader character who is always written as White, AFAB, and petite.

This brings me to the next issue.

ISSUE: The way sexual relationships are portrayed.

Let me clarify so there is no chance of me being misunderstood: sex is good. Liking and wanting and enjoying sex isn’t bad. It is not bad if you are AFAB and have submissive fantasies. It is not bad to be sexually attracted to a man of color. You can write about sex even if you haven’t had it. Writing about sex can be a good way to express some more complicated feelings you could have about certain things. It doesn’t even have to be realistic. It has its time and it has its place.

This being said.

Sexual relationships as they are portrayed in the vast majority of E-rated Star Wars reader inserts are… not great.

The reader is always AFAB. I can think of maybe one fic off the top of my head where an AFAB reader was written with they/them pronouns and not just she/her.

The reader is almost always submissive, the dominant character is almost always portrayed as cis male. Even when the characters are supposed to just be having spontaneous casual sex, D/S or BDSM aspects will be introduced with no prior discussion or talks about it afterwards. Sometimes characters will start using dirty talk and it just does not fit at all, but it’s what the author thought was hot.

Sometimes, it just reads like a quick smutty oneshot. More often than that, it reads like the author doesn’t realize that sex… isn’t always a dom/sub thing. Or that someone can take the lead in sex and that doesn’t automatically make them a dom.

It’s not bad to be inexperienced. It’s not bad to have preferences or kinks or specific turn-ons.

But it gets… tiring to read, over and over and over and over, because that’s all there is.

That and… I dunno, it just has me a little worried? It doesn’t make me feel good knowing so many people can only portray a sexual relationship if it’s dom/sub. I don’t know why it makes me so uneasy.

Vanilla sex isn’t a bad thing I promise. It's this feeling of insistence that something "spicy" absolutely has to happen for it to be worth writing that gives... some weird vibes.

I’m going to move on to the next Big-

ISSUE: Every “reader” character is exactly the same

By which I mean the following:

Always cis AFAB female

If a character is written with gender neutral pronouns they will always be AFAB and written like Girl Lite

I have never seen an explicitly stated nonbinary/gnc reader character unless it was a request specifically for a nonbinary reader

I have never seen a gender neutral reader insert fic where the reader was AMAB

I have seen a grand total of 1 cis male reader fic and 1 trans male reader fic. The trans male reader fic was about dysphoria.

The reader is allowed to have one of the following backstories: slave/runaway, mechanic, medic, ex-Rebel, secret Jedi, bounty hunter.

The reader is allowed to have one of the following personality traits: throws knives, babysitter, completely civilian, WOMAN, says curse words.

The reader is never written with any narrative agency- things only ever happen to the reader character or around the reader character, they are never written to take charge and actually affect things on their own. Essentially the sexy lamp trope.

Remember when I said the majority of people writing Star Wars reader-insert fanfic on Ao3 were White, cisgender AFAB women who are gender-conforming and able-bodied? This is how you can tell.

It’s at this point where you can tell they’re really not meant to be reader-inserts, but author-inserts with the names removed- they were only meant for a very narrow selection of readers.

I’m nonbinary, I’m gnc, and I’m a very feminine looking person, generally speaking. I’m used to people looking at me and assuming oh, girl. I’m at peace with that.

I can barely stand reading some of these fics just because of how much the author emphasizes that the reader is FEMALE shes a WOMAN with BOOBS and a VAGINA and FEMININE WILES. There’s barely ever even a chance to give myself room to mentally vault over all the “she”s and “her”s because then I’m getting hit with Din or someone calling the reader “girl” or “the woman.” It’s unbearable, and I even fall into the general description every fucking fic author uses for their generic protagonist!

Even with the “gender-neutral reader” fics, it is just. Painfully clear that they just wrote a female character and changed the pronouns- no, there is no such thing as “male behavior” or “female behavior,” and I quite heartily rebel against the concept of gender essentialism. And honestly, I can barely even begin piecing together how I know it and what it feels like, because it’s just one of those vague conglomerates of cues and writing patterns I can’t consciously pick up on but I know it’s there- it’s frustrating, it’s demeaning, and it feels like you’d have to threaten these authors at gunpoint to get them to write a reader character who was any major deviation from the same three cutouts they use every time.

It seems like they can’t possibly force themselves to write a reader character who isn’t meek and submissive or has the sole personality traits of “mean and can hit things”- you can actually strike a balance between “absolutely no personality” and “fleshed out oc” you know? And you don’t actually have to tell the reader what their hair looks like or how full their figure is

It’s like 2:20 AM and I started this at like 8something PM but.

I’m someone who loves reader-inserts. I enjoy them. I still check for new ones regularly. I’ve been reading them for well over half my life now.

So many of these authors are just locked in on exactly one way to write things and it fucking shows. It’s like a self-feeding loop, they just keep writing the same things and the same dynamics because they see each other doing it and they never think about taking a step back.

It’s… exhausting. I’m exhausted. If you’re a reader-insert fic writer and you want to improve your reader character inclusivity and have also read this far, you can DM me or shoot me an ask.

#star wars #x reader #star wars x reader #star wars reader insert #maintagging because for once i actually want ppl to see this #i hope my points are made clearly enough #if something needs clarification you can shoot me a DM or an ask

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thatbangtanbloom · 3 years

Text

petals | bts [1]

petals | bts

teaser | [1] (could be read without the teaser)

characters: kim namjoon, kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook, reader

pairings: ot7 x reader

categories: angst, fluff, (light???) smut

genre: idol!bts, idol!reader (fem!reader)

warnings: reader is a bit sensitive but comes out of her shell slowly,, uhh,,, grinding???, making out ;) , sad kissing????, hoseok is lowkey whipped for reader, so is jimin,,, taehyung is a little mean for like 2 sentences

a/n: this first chapter introduces the reader, j-hope, and jimin! more members will be introduced with reader next chapter :]]

❀

The seven of them may not have been bound by blood, but they were in every other way. Their interests often aligned and common actions were shared where sometimes they did not know where one began and one ended. They began their days together as they made their way to the practice room and ended it when they loaded into vans to make their way back to their shared dorm.

It wasn’t as though they had never noticed the fundamental difference between the seven of them and you. They were keenly aware of it whenever the stylist squeezes you and your other girl group members into shorts opposite to their pants or the added slits to accentuate your figure when suits were the dominant style. Yet, your performance was the tipping point.

Each of them had drawn silent as they watched you move like a siren across the stage. The male dancers seemingly falling at your feet while your white chiffon hugged your every curve, floating like water with each move to the beat. Never mind that you were in a group with seven other girls, all of their eyes could only be glued to you.

They would like to think that it were the performances that had them glued to your every move - that it wasn’t the remnants of false dreams that led them to watch you like a hawk. Almost like wolves, they would be eager to pounce at you if there was one misstep. Yet, you made none.

Hoseok was the proudest of them all. He purposely would stay up to watch you practice, giving helpful tips to evoking further emotion.. but this? Seeing you move this sexily as an enchantress almost made him feel weak in the knees.

They had attempted a lot to make you feel welcomed into their tiny home of seven. When BigHit informed them that the top trainee from Produce 101 would be joining their company left a sour taste in their mouths, but after learning it had been you who captivated millions, their worry lessened. BigHit had provided themselves on growing from the ground up - working organically to cultivate each trainee with precision, sincerity, and perseverance. Their own premonitions of how you functioned as an artist did make them question your credibility. It was only a matter of time before their watchful eyes looked after you since your pre debut days. The trainee girl division of BigHit had been long gone, but BigHit could not let go of you, not after so many monthly evaluations, tearful performances, and years going down the drain.

It was not as though you were coming into the group empty-handed. You had your own fan base from the show and project group who swore to stay by your side no matter what. Admittedly, your fan dynamic was a bit more mixed - guys eagerly flicking to see you and the other girls in school uniforms while you belted your heart out. The latest addition was the reassurance that BigHit needed to their girl group that they intended to put together.

“She doesn’t belong here.” were the first words you heard when your bags finally were placed down. It had been Taehyung who had uttered such words. You instantly find your blood run cold from the words. You could not quite understand why Taehyung was so against you. The two of you had never spoken more than three words to one another outside of promotional shoots where you were slated as an MC for the few shows variety was on.

Nevertheless, you tucked your head down and followed your other group members to the practice studio where you would dance for hours on in. You would practice until your limbs ached, taking every moment of a break as one step closer to the solace of your bed when comeback preparations were soon approaching. But every time you rested for just a moment, you could remember the echo of Kim Taehyung’s words. She doesn’t belong here.

Unbeknownst to you, not every member of BTS was antagonistic towards you. In particular, Jung Hoseok admired your tenacity more than anything. The two of you spoke in quick words, him congratulating you on your variety show appearances and complimented the way your freestyle had improved over the years. He was in complete awe of you.

“You’re here again?” His soft voice greets you at seven in the morning on the fifth-floor practice room of BigHit Entertainment. You would be embarrassed that you are currently laying on the floor looking utterly disheveled with your gray sweatpants loosely hugging your hips and the way your shirt is drenched with sweat if this were the first time.. but it had not been. He has two iced Americanos in hand and his lovely heart-shaped smile to match. “I swear.. you’re one of the hardest working people I know.”

His words lift your heart and you scramble to stand up and bow deeply to him, “Thank you, senior.” You say before bending a full ninety-degrees to show your respect.

“There’s no need for formalities… aish… are we not close?” Hoseok teases playfully as he places his keys onto the television monitor’s counter and shrugs off his jacket. He has always been one of the more friendly members of your senior group. Most likely because he catches you in the practice room four days out of the week when your leader, Roa, has not realized you snuck out of the dorms in exchange of the four walls. “You can just call me Hoseok. Or j-hope if it makes you feel better.”

You shyly rub the back of your neck, “I.. I suppose we are.” You admit sheepishly as you watch him pass you the iced americano into your hands. His hands are soft and gentle as they overlap over yours. “Congratulations on Billboard and the Grammy’s…. It must be very exciting,”

“Yah, yah, you said that yesterday.” Hoseok has always teased you as his hand raises to your head and pats it gently. In particular, Hoseok has always found your shyness cute. He thought it was sweet that despite years of being an idol, you still never lose the softer parts of yourself. “Let’s talk about you. And Reverie, huh?”

Your girl group, Reverie, had ultimately been a successful feat despite Korean netizens eager to question the validity of putting former IOI members and BigHit trainees as the first girl group the company would produce as opposed to using ‘fresh’ talent. Reading article after the article had made you insecure when they commented on your rather ‘boring’ facade compared to the other members that had charms that seemed to overflow. Were you that bad?

As though reading your thoughts, Hoseok gently clears his throat. “You should show me your dance.” He contends with a warm smile.

Despite only having these secret times in the practice room, Hoseok felt as though he could read you. He noticed your demure way of approaching things that were unfamiliar to you - the sharp contrast for when you performed on stage. If anything, he wanted to help you find the same confidence you felt on stage. He wanted you to find it with him.

“I can do that,” You say as you take another sip of your iced Americano and rush to place it in front of the mirror. You steal a peek from the corner of your eye as the older man settles into the chair and shrugs off his jacket. The other members (most likely Jimin since he tended to be as much of a practice fiend as he was) would not join for another half an hour, so Hoseok was eager to spend this time with you.

His eyes follow your every moment as he leans forward like a man entranced. He’s always admired the fluidity in your movement; the way that you texture changes without warning and how sharp each move is when it needs to be. Like water, you move as one with no disconnecting movements until you want it to be. Quite literally, he thinks your poetry in motion.

The latest comeback is equally as alluring as it is power-based. BigHit quantifying that girl groups should not be held to a double standard meant the choreography being just as difficult as your male counterparts. More than satisfactory for you, it let you feel a greater sense of accomplishment when you hear Hoseok’s claps of approval.

“You’ve improved a lot.” Hoseok remarks with a bright grin as he stands to his feet before walking over. “Though… I would say that this one move could be drawn out more. You’re focusing more on the timing rather than the execution.” He watches as your features contort at his words as you try to piece together what move in particular was he talking about. Could it had been the pas de bourrée? “Here,”

He moves closer to you with a reassuring look in his eyes as his hand rests on your shoulder and slightly presses down, “You’re supposed to have your shoulder go slack, right? You shouldn’t be so tense. Relax.” He says as his fingers trap down your arm to graze over your elbow and tuck it in more. “Your arm was taking away from the focus on your legs. You know the choreography, so why do you dance like you don’t?”

“Ouch,” You say with a forced laugh. You knew he meant well, but from to time, Hoseok did tend to critique you more like you were a member of his own group rather than a junior. Regardless, you were still thankful for his key eye for detail. You never would have deduced it was because he was looking out for you far more than just as a senior, but as something more. “You said last time you wouldn’t be so harsh,” You joke after mustering the courage after fixing your posture and your eyes reclaiming Hoseok’s.

Hoseok chuckles softly, “If I knew you couldn’t take it, I wouldn’t say it,” He remarks gently before turning on his heels beside you. “You’re practicing for the partner stage within the comeback, right? Then you should do it properly.” His voice lowers ever so slightly when he speaks, “With me.”

This hadn’t been the first time you had practiced with Hoseok. Early morning practices often consisted of him arriving at roughly the same time each day, if not earlier, with his small critique prior to him opting for a more hands-on approach. You saw it as nothing more of a senior looking after his junior, but Hoseok saw it as far more than that. How could he not when you were this cute without realizing it?

He wanted to ruin you.

Your thoughts melt away when you feel Hoseok’s hands settle onto your waist, pulling you closer to him as the two of you make eye contact. The way that he looks at you, his pupils slightly dilated with an intensity you can not quite discern, makes you let go of the breath you had not realized you were holding. How come it never felt like this when you were dancing with the actual backup dancers?

“Your leg should rest on my hip, like this,” Hoseok says as he purposely tucks his hand in the dip of your waist to press your waist against him. He’s warm to the touch, much like the sun itself and you have to bit back the blush that threatens to paint on your cheeks. “There, you’re doing good. You’ve always been good at listening.” He praises you as he guides you through the next move. Each moment you spend closer to him has you nearly buckling in the knees when his voice tickles your ear. Did he have any clue what the hell he was doing to you?

You may not have realized it, but Jimin ultimately did. The shorter man has grown familiar with the scene as he tucks his bag under his arm and lingers by the door to watch. He’s not surprised that Hoseok had shown up an hour early for practice in the wrong practice room when he leads you across the room. Jimin has to wonder if being attracted to you is infectious when it seems he is equally infatuated with you. Perhaps even more than Hoseok.

Jimin chuckles to himself as he pauses the music and leans against the door frame with an amused grin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were star-crossed lovers.” It’s almost biting the way your face changes of recognition when your eyes meet Jimin.

You immediately pull away from Hoseok to bow deeply to Jimin out of respect, “It’s not like that. He was helping me-“

“You should let me help you too,” Jimin almost pouts as he repeats the familiar action of discarding his jacket and strolling over. “I can dance too, you know?” He teases as he notices the chuckle that Hoseok had been holding back. Both of them found you being flustered adorable, especially when this normally wasn’t like you. What happened to the alluring siren on stage? They practically craved to have you put them in their place.

Unlike Hoseok, your history with Jimin runs deeper than your ties to BigHit Entertainment. The younger man had known you at your lowest point, kissed away your tears on the night that your first group, I.O.I, had disbanded after the project’s deadline came and went.

You had never mentioned it, but you remembers the last night in the IOI dorms like it was yesterday. You had never wanted to know the pain of your group disbanding again. You had called Jimin that night because you didn’t know who else to call. Somi had been crying in the bathroom for hours, saying how it felt like SIXTEEN all over again, and you could only console your dongsaeng for so long. Kyulkyung and Nayoung already were going to be debuting in PRISTIN with eight other girls as though IOI never existed and was another project group. The time zone left you unavailable to call you parents and Jimin was all you had…

“I’m always going to be here, you know that, don’t you?” Jimin had whispered into your ears as his fingers gingerly stroked your cheek. He looks into your eyes, hoping that your words give some semblance of comfort when your heart ached to no return. How many times would it be that you had to build yourself up to be strong just for everything to fall apart outside of your control?

You sniffle when Jimin makes you look into his eyes, “I-I-I know,” You stammer out as you try to regain your control over your emotions, but it hurt. It hurt so bad that your head was pounding and it felt like you could hear the blood rushing to your ears. “It just.. I just want it to stop hurting, Jimin..” You grip the fabric of his shirt as though he were the one person in this world that piece you back to gather.

“It will take time.. but I will be here until the very end.. you hear me?” He whispers as he stares into your eyes. His soft monolids drip honey when they meet yours. “YN-ah… look at me.”

With a sniffle, you nod, “I am.. I am…” You whisper as your eyes scan his own. You never quite realized how long his eyelashes are or the way he holds the entire galaxy in his eyes up so close. You never have clung to him this much either, so it leaves you a bit breathless when Jimin says nothing for a while, just admiring you. “Jimin?”

“Mmm?” He asks as he does his best to wipe away your tears and not think about how pretty you look right now. He was here just to comfort you, but why can he not stop himself from looking at your lips? From thinking about how badly he wants to help you forget and kiss you?

“You’re pretty,” You say simply as you sniffle slightly and wipe away a stray tear with your sleeve.

“You’re prettier,” He tells you with a soft laugh as his thumb brushes against her chin. He wonders how close it would be for him to close the distance between the two of you with just a kiss.

Jimin has always complimented you, reassuring you of your every perfection, but this time he seems to mean it a little bit more as he presses you tighter against his chest to hold you close.

“Jimin…” You whimper as you hug him closer to you. “Please.. please help me forget,” you whisper softly for just the two of you to hear.

So without thinking, you cup both of his cheeks to close the distance between the two of you. Your arms snake around his shoulders to pull him closer as his arms instantly wrap around your own waist. He is warm to the touch, but fits like a perfect puzzle piece.

Jimin can not say how many times he had thought of this moment - the way you would fit around him like missing puzzle piece. The way he would kiss away every worry from your pretty little head as his hands bunch up the sweatshirt at your waist as he would kiss up your stomach before peppering kisses along your thighs. He’s dreamed of what it would feel like to finally hear your soft moans for him and him alone, but he still holds back as he lets you take the lead. Especially when you are this sensitive.

His lips are soft and pouty; they feel like the inside of a rose as his jaw slacks to let your tongue brush against his own. The taste is sweet with a bit of a tangy flavor: much like that of strawberry lemonade when each finger that presses against your side feels like keys being paid against a piano. For the first time in a while, things feel stable, sure, certain.

You’ve never wanted anything more in your life. You have no doubts as your hips grind against his own on the floor of your dormitory. His moans are soft each time your hips rhymically brush against the hardening tent within his pants. You like this reaction from him, the way his hips buckle into your own as your own teeth begin to nibble along his plump ones to elicit another mewl of pleasure from him. He feels like a dream, the way his hold on you tightens to bring you closer to him ; a sneaky hand that brushes along your hip to graze against the strap of your bra and tug it down in anticipation. You’re thankful that your door is locked in case one of your fellow members were to walk in on you grinding against your best friend after a fit of tears. God, you want him. You want him. You want him.

“YN-ah….” He groans as you begin to paper kisses along his neck. “I.. I want this… you have no idea how badly I want this… but I don’t want this if you’re just trying to forget,” He whispers as he forces you back to look at him. “Do you understand that?”

You grow silent as you watch his chest pant up and down in excitement. You know he wants it as badly as you do. You would be a fool to not see the way that he looks at you like you are the only one in the room. But you feel ashamed from how quick you are to close the gap between friends and lovers in the blink of an eye. Would crossing this boundary ruin things for you?

Jimin wonders if you remember those memories as vividly as he does. Sure, it had been a couple of years since that time, but he could not forget the way you fit perfectly around his lips. The memorable roll of your hips that nearly had him crying for him to be inside of you. He could remember all of this when you stared at your figure years later no longer as just friends, but with you as his junior and him as his senior.

Was it incomprehensible that he would wish to cross those paths again?

- - -

Don't be a silent reader! Let me know what your thoughts are! How do you feel about Taehyung not liking the reader very much? What do you think about the reader with Hoseok and Jimin? Let me know your thoughts :)

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hungryflowers · 3 years

Text

You’re Different Backstage

Title: You’re Different Backstage

Rating: Explicit (NSFW)

Continuity/Fandom: Balan Wonderworld

Character Relationship(s): “Balance” Balan/Lance

Character(s): Balan, Lance

A/N: This is going to be my FIRST NSFW submission for this fandom. Do not come at me with the torches, pitch forks, knives or shotguns. I, very recently, sent myself down the rabbit hole of Balance (Balan/Lance) and kept wondering: how nice would it be to see some good ol’ fashion sexy time with the two of them? Since no one has done it yet, I thought, why don’t I? What’s stopping me? Who can stop me? NOBODY!!! So I did this. And it took me 10 days to do, so please accept my thing!! Also, also, this will probably be the longest porn w/o plot I’ve ever written. Hence why it took nearly ten days. The editing alone was bananas!! Another thing, I’d like to apologize in advance if I offend anyone here who is Non-Binary or go by They/Them pronouns. Since Lance is canonically non-binary, I tried to keep it as close to the orientation as possible. This was real hard as I usually default to male pronouns for both of them.

However, I didn’t do the same for Balan, as he does tend to go by more male pronouns than Lance does even though they are also androgynous in appearance. Maestro is a more masculine term even if neither of them actually are. Another big thing: Balan’s genitals here. Since they don’t have actual default genitalia, I like to think that he has the ability to oscillate his genitals. He can have male and female parts just not at the same time. With that out of the way, please indulge in this steamy lil’ fan fic. And yes, I take criticism.

Other/Warning(s): Massive smut warning!! Penetrative sex, Oral and Cunnilingus, Some minor swearing, graphic depictions of sexual situations as well as multiple orgasms.

Lance didn’t enjoy setting the ‘mood’ as others had assumed it. They weren’t deeply inclined to romantic, or sappy gestures like the better half of themselves had been. Balan seemed better at the sentimental side of affirmations of love and adoration. Or of praises and well-wishes that devolved into lasting conversations of love and happiness.

No. No such things came out of Lance. They never gave in the way Balan would crave it. All they have ever wished for in turn was the physical catharsis of those suppressed feelings. Lance never called it love. Far be it from them to say what it wasn’t, but call it what it is. For them, it was just sex. The debasing art form of it too; bed-rocking, sloppy and wet, body tingling sex. That kind one would have as a means to purge the physical, mental garbage of the day and get back to work. The sex that revolved around more the need to take and not deal in the emotional ramifications. Lance’s fangs would draw in a wicked grin, the idea of that perfect, lasting till the morning time sex rarely sounding so bad. They had raptured, fantasized of the feel of Balan’s more delicate, tender frame mashed into theirs as he was ridden to a mind-blowing high that could leave them both speechless for a long while.

They would languish in these thoughts. The perverse nature of them driving him to do insane things in search of the release from the monstrous, bone-rattling ache. For now, Lance busied themselves to look away... their thoughts hazy and muddled with the resurfacing gnaw of pursuing pleasure. Their mouth ducked into their tattered caplet, hiding the baring growl that prickled at those lips. Soft, ocean-colored eyes hardened with shock, and some surprise as they locked with Balan’s. They must’ve been so entranced with the inner turmoil, Lance never registered the glance the maestro was giving them. The Maestro of Wonderworld’s presence did things to Lance. Things they acknowledged and didn’t like. Gods, who decided to torment them so by making this being so damned beautiful and siren-like? How dare he sit with an air so casual, it appeared nothing ever bothered him? Damn him. Damn his soft, luscious and devilish curves; feminine in some ways while masculine in others. But moreover, damn those goddamn large and intelligent yellow eyes.

Golden pools shimmered deliciously in the lamplight of the slow evening. The theater was always quiet at night. It was period of reflection, relaxation. Or maybe a time to finish some old project. Maybe begin anew. For Balan tonight however, it was his time to catch up on a few good reads. He hadn’t picked up a good novel in some time. Usually the only papers he read were his rough drafts of scripts and plans. But he loved to read. When he didn’t harass Lance with trivial tasks, or for the nuisance of conversation, Balan read. If not that, he wrote. He was a maestro of the craft; short stories, full-lengths, prompts and scenarios, or sometimes just a journal entry. On this night he didn’t busy himself with putting quill to parchment.

Balan's mouth opened, a sound coming out but no words. He wasn’t entirely sure how to ask about Lance’s wellbeing with being snapped at. The other appearing to be in a dour mood tonight. Placing the book on the small, rounded oak table Balan unfolded his legs to stand. He stretched idly, rubbing at the back of his top hat before pulling it off his head to fluff out his bouncy mint-colored dreads. Humming a little tune, Balan rummaged through his showman jacket, pulling out a golden rubber band to tie his long dreads back. The tendrils folded down his shoulders neatly once they were out of the way, exposing the intricately made heart marking atop his dark forehead.

His eyes fanned over the negati’s hidden features before he walked over to the bar on the far side of the room. Opening one of the cabinets, he pulled out an aged bottle of wine; the label slightly tarnished and dusty read in calligraphic silver “Caraveét”. He grabbed gold-rimmed chalices, pouring the shimmering iris colored wine into each of the glasses. He grinned, smelling the sweet and tart flavors. He took a slow sip from his glass before tapping the bar table with his gloved fingers, the racketing bring Lance out of their stupor.

“Did you want some?”, He inquired, hoping the swirling liquid would ease the storm that ravaged the negati, “You seem a bit broody tonight. Perhaps, a couple of glasses should ease both our minds.” The maestro chuckled giddily raising his glass as it gleamed in the low light.

Lance regarded the glass, then the maestro as he walked over to them. The tentacles on their back lashed so abruptly, Lance had to do a non-verbal apology when they knocked over a few chairs by accident. They weren’t brooding. Not even mad, but they were feeling something. Just not sure how to find the words for it.

Balan’s eyes drifted to Lance’s, regarding them. Waiting for them to answer the question they most likely didn’t hear in the first place.

“What?” The tone was not to be a biting, agitated type yet Lance couldn’t make themselves look at Balan, knowing full well the turmoil they were in.

“Nothing... I was just asking if you would like a glass of wine? You are more the brooding lot than usual. Drink with me.” Balan’s playful baritone voice felt like velvet as it caressed their ears. That voice caused Lance to sulk further more, hiding their face inside the caplet as the thoughts, seeming to feel more like whispers of temptation, dominated their rational thinking.

He took the offered glass yet chose not to drink of any of it. Instead he loomed over the rim as Balan took a long swig of his.

Lance licked at their lips, unknowing of the gesture. They would give more than anything to kiss the taste off of Balan’s lips. Or just to kiss them at all. They had wondered what it would be like to feel the maestro’s lips tentatively licking, caressing theirs in a heated lip-lock. The maddening thoughts came back tenfold, causing the other in audible snarl, attempting to shut them away.

“Lance... are you okay?” They heard Balan on the bridge of their conscious, the other’s voice like a muddling hum as they stood up quickly to move in front of Balan. The other, not knowing how to judge the move, backed into the bar, his glass still in hand while he searched the eyes of Lance. They appeared to be wild, nearly frantic with an energy Lance never expressed.

Lance leered at the other silently before pushing himself right into the maestro’s form; trapping him in front of the wood lacquer. Balan’s fleeing gaze made Lance smile. Not grin... smile. His mouth perking with something that could not be said as his hands went to Balan’s cravat, pulling the other slowly toward him.

“No...”, Lance confessed, eyes lulling closed dreamily, “I am not okay. And you are to blame.” That smile showed off the fangs, the points flitting in the soft lamplight.

Balan could not fully process what was going on before Lance leaned in fully to capture the other’s lips. Night after night, they had dreamt up this moment and even now they cannot believe they had gotten this far. It was far better than any dream or wish; light blue eyes sliding closed as a slender tongue went past the maestro’s parted, stunned mouth. That moment caused a ripple of shock to seize Balan, contents of his glass spilling onto the floor, no doubt leaving a stain that’ll have to be dealt with. He didn’t even have the knowledge of dropping it, yellow eyes staring at Lance’s softened face before he willed himself to kiss back. His hands, once frozen indecisively, pulled Lance in close.

Neither were sure how it had come to this, but Balan didn’t have the heart in him to make Lance stop. A small purr rumbled the kiss as Lance began to pull off. They disconnected breathlessly, only the small tail of spittle between them. Their breaths were heavy and hot, burning like steam with each exhale. It took the maestro to gather his bearings before his mouth was able to work again.

“W-Why am I to blame?? Lance what’s happened to you?” Balan felt as if he knew what was about to happen, and tried his best to make it all make sense. He was normally in a lot more control in surprise like situations; yet here... he was unable to predict the sheer tumbling force that Lance was portraying.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Lance whispered, deftly kissing down Balan’s neck, inky-black hair brushing amethyst sparkled cheeks, “I’ll make you understand.” They said louder with a growl that exposed fangs.

Purrs rumble through Lance as they fumbled with anything that would be able to get Balan’s ensemble off. Instantly they are met with resistance as Balan shoves at them, hands going to the sharp shoulders defensively.

“Lance! What do you think you’re doing?!” Balan exclaimed, standing his ground before Lance doubles their efforts to expose the maestro. They are only slimly successful when get to expose Balan’s upper shoulder; the tear just big enough to reveal swirling lines of golden runes, “Have you lost your mind?!”

The other refuses to answer him, bringing themselves flush against Balan to kiss down the exposed markings.

Had they managed to lose their mind? Lance would have to give that some thought later on. In the afterglow. But first, they’d have to get down from the tantalizing high that has them under a spell. Their lips brushed softly down the exposed skin, running lightly over the maestro’s clothed arm. Gods, both of them just had on too many layers. Lance flared up, frustrated by the inability to firmly feel the decadent skin.

“Lance, let me go!” Balan demanded, the command in his voice barely swaying Lance to push off him. He was losing control of the situation. And the scary part of it was that was what he wanted. Balan would have been lying to himself if he said that he didn’t want this. Yet to get it from Lance this way was never a part of the plan.

“You don’t want me to let you go.” Lance stated, eyes twinkling with more than just mischief behind them.

“Yes I do!” Balan choked out, his act and bravado beginning to fail him.

“Then why are you pulling yourself into me?” Lance chuckled, allowing their hands to wander down Balan’s waist.

“I’m-” He stammered not expecting to see or know that he had been pulling Lance closer the entire time. Forbid it all, he wanted this negati more than anything right now. And he was showing how badly. Damn his body for this. He was normally in better control of his reactions, this lapse should not have been tolerated.

His be-speckled face shown with the brewing embarrassment of being caught before shoving himself a bit harder, finally escaping Lance’s grasp. The poor thing looked a fright; face flushing a deep violet, hair askew as it rolled down his shoulders and back, teeth clenched in discomfort as he attempted to steady his breathing. His chest must’ve rattled from the urge to scream at Lance. Instead he stamped off, refusing to let Lance see how flustered he became. He’ll have to be in his room for a while to work out the steam that began to build.

He didn’t get far as a few tendrils of inky black wrapped around the other’s waist. He could hardly make a verbal protest while being pulled back into the other’s form. Large claws going up his neck, arresting Balan’s smooth belly as the tendrils dipped further. The tentacles moved lively, squeezing and pulling on the other as Lance’s hands swept and groomed over the maestro’s suit. When one hand dipped between Balan’s legs, he seized up.

Yellow eyes dilated, Lance’s touch freezing his mind. The groan that escaped him was not intended yet was enough to make Lance’s groin ache. He was going to force those sounds out of Balan. In one way or the other. Their night was going to be fulled with these delicious noises. The tendrils smoothed over him, probing the other perversely.

“Lance...please.” Balan became unaware of what he was begging for. He wanted this to stop, but he also felt like he’d regret refusing. This Lance... was much different than the one he’d encountered previously. The change felt real jarring; since they never made moves into his personal space. For anything. Least of all... This! He wanted to see where this could go. How much better it could get.

His own hands skimmed over Lance’s suit, prompting the other to loosen their grip as Balan slid away from the tendrils. Balan took one coil in between his fingers, golden eyes gazing into the blue ones. The heat behind the other’s eyes made Lance shudder, a harsh sigh coming from his mouth as Balan took the tip of Lance’s tendril into his. The look stayed as the tendril came from Balan’s mouth, his tongue connecting it. The appendage darted out to swipe at the excess spittle left behind, the maestro’s eyes still glowing with a renewed heat.

The action prompted a sneer from Lance’s features, their hand waving for a portal to open up behind Balan. The maestro gasped, turning to the hazy violet-colored portal. The shout of shock was to be expected as he was shoved right through it, the residual tethers of Lance’s self control snapping audibly as it receded.

The overwhelmed, unknowing audience of Tims sat, wiggled, waddled and creeped up to sit in the place both beings had been.

______________________________

It was not the fall that left him breathless as he landed on the massive expanse of what felt like a lavish bed. It wasn’t the deep contrasting colors of purple and gold accents that were illuminated by rainbow-esque runes and paintings of Negati markings throughout the immense, intimate space. Nor was it the pulsating rivets of scarlet that blended salaciously with the black and purple blankets and amassing of huge, plumy pillows.

Lance himself left him utter breathless; transfixing him, mesmerizing him with the oscillating negati runes that gleamed in the room. Lance had never done this display before. Their runes barely pulsed or shined vibrantly whenever they were around each other. Evermore rarer when he was alone. The runes gave him an ethereal hue that the nighttime sky couldn’t rival. He brushed that thought away as Lance struggled out of their wardrobe, hardly mindful of seams, buttons or zippers as the top half of his shorn cloak was disposed of somewhere in the low lit room. Balan flinched yet shuddered at the ferocity Lance had showcased in removing his own tunic and darker colored vest from underneath. With his chest exposed; the tapestry of rune lines and fuchsia gleaming in the violet backdrop of the room, he was on Balan.

The maestro’s bright color scheme contrasted a great deal with the whole room, snow white wrapped in gold and scarlet with the fettering of navy with his undershirt. The colors screamed obnoxiously in comparison, and Lance wanted them all off. Balan looked on, dazed by the negati while Lance’s -no longer gloved, dark- fingers delved to pull apart the top of the collar, effortlessly tearing it asunder, a low suffering sound coming from the maestro but not much else. He would figure that Lance would be like this. There was no such thing as intimacy or care with the negati. Everything he touched broke in his hands. Balan knows well that this time will be no different.

Those warmed hands skimmed over the prone body, fingers probing through the opened seams of the tattered clothings. They tickled him, a warm and fuzzy sensation spreading throughout the squirming frame. Balan felt lips on his chest, hands assisting in the pleasing endeavor while the other arched and shook. His mouth opened in an exhalation of steaming desire. When Lance pinched a nipple, Balan shot upwards in heated rebellion, forcing Lance to restrain him with his tendrils.

He was about to demand that Lance release him yet was cowed into silence by a startling growl, “This ends if you keep moving.” That voice, their voice had done something to the maestro. In other instances, Balan would have fought Lance until the other relented control, but during this... he went oddly still, placate as Lance continued to trace a trail of kisses down his chest. He brought his hips forward and up as the negati began kissing down his belly, stopping shy of the seam of his pants. Warm hands went into the other’s pants, the kindled heat coming off of Balan’s genitals enough to make Lance purr.

The maestro struggled against the hold as Lance pulled his pants down, heeled boots joining them as pile on the floor; kissing trails down his waist and down his legs. When the teeth pricked his skin, Balan thrashed. His face aglow with purplish speckles that brightened with his flush. He sparkled everywhere; cheeks, chest, hips and down the markings of his illuminated, swirling markings. Even the tendrils of his hair began to glow a slight with the forbidden heat. The hold on the restraints doubled.

“What did I just say?” Lance growled, the reverberating making Balan tense.

“L-Lance! Lance...”, Balan was calling to him yet couldn’t reach him as the negati roughly rid him of his clothing. Nearly naked, Balan shivered in the cool of the room as well as under the heated gaze of the negati, whom crawled up his frame to, again, kiss and lick at his newly glowing speckles, “Please... don’t stop! Please, Lance.” The maestro whispered pleas were a shock to the negati’s ears. He still wanted to punish him for fighting but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was becoming so lost to the feelings.

“Save your voice, pet...”, Lance whispered as his fingers slipped past the maestro’s brightly colored panties, feeling him for the first time, “It is too premature for you to be screaming for me now.” He chuckled more as his folds became reactive to the fingers smoothing them over, luscious wetness forming inside the panties.

Balan’s eyes widened, the shock of Lance’s finger boldly touching him made him to squirm, his own palm moving atop the negati’s. Much to Lance’s surprise, he didn’t hinder him yet chose to guide his fingers even closer, near enough for them to breach the delectable, delicate walls. Sun-yellow eyes rolled back once he felt one fingertip push its way inside, stopping short of sinking in completely. The maestro’s moan was unabashedly loud, body rolling in venture of more fingers. Lance marveled with fascination at the other’s willingness; form softening as he shook his head to and fro in delirium. He couldn’t stop shaking, lithe body aroused as the finger came from his wet sex. He smelt utterly delicious, dripping the natural nectar like a perfectly ripe fruit. His tongue slipped out to have a taste of it... and it had been everything he had hoped for.

The aroma of the finest wine with the scintillating notes of vanilla and lavender. His cock pulsed in his own pants, over eager for its own taste.

In horny glee, Lance yanked off the maestro’s panties, tossing the last piece of clothing into the darkness of his chambers in order to marvel at the most succulent sight in between the other’s rune spiraled legs. The plump lips of the vulva were just perfect enough to kiss, the natural wetness dribbling onto the blankets, glittering a soft purple as it did. The negati locked eyes with the heated, glazed expression before moving to take Balan’s mouth in a heated, soft kiss. The other kissed back with more fervor than before, free hand going behind Lance’s head to drag him down.

They pulled away with a long, loud sigh. The other scoring hot in contrast to the sheets beneath. Balan splayed his legs more, allowing for more room.

Lance grabbed up his thighs roughly, pulling him to the end of the bed to comfortably rest on their knees. Without much warning, Lance dipped his mouth right onto the humming lips of his vulva. That tongue went right to work at lapping up the sticky juices in and around those lips, a soft chuckle coming out of Lance as Balan shouted in lewd desire. His giant hands went right to Lance’s head, twining his fingers in the other’s hair as he shook and shimmied to the lapping tongue, hips arching to bring those lips closer to his pussy.

Lance focused on the luscious flavor of his cunt, dragging Balan closer to them as the maestro attempted to pull back. Their grasp got tighter the harder Balan fought against the hold. He felt the other’s grip in his hair, the tugging just enough to keep Lance deep. He lost his mind to Lance’s teeth grazing the top of his clit before sucking hard on his folds.

“Gods! Uhh, huh, L-L-Lance!”, Balan stammered, the corner of his eyes prickling with unshed tears while he fought and screamed into Lance’s lips. He was in heaven, but damn him if he’d admit that to the Negati. Balan flailed his head, mint-colored dreads going all over as he lost all semblance of control, “Dear gods Lance! Please! I cannot take...!” Balan pleaded for him to stop, to show any mercy on him as an intense rush of savage, carnal desire shot through him. When the other didn’t heed him, he wept. A startled sob ripped from his gasping maw as he arched into Lance’s rippling tongue.

Lance backed off in order to awe at the loss of self control Balan was beginning to display. He took in the panting, shaking mess of a maestro before his very eyes; mouth hanging open as he greedily swallowed gulps of air, body aquiver with mind melting lust, hands holding his head like a vice as those sinful thighs wrapped around him. The sight of him made the negati moan unintentionally, tongue plundering the maestro. The vibrations of it caused Balan to clench on him and scream, both hands abandoning Lance’s hair to slide against the cooler sheets.

“Oh! Oh gods, please, please...” The maestro whimpered, body relishing in that feeling while his mind boiled in intensity.

Lance, accounting for Balan’s behavior, moaned louder and longer against the lips of Balan’s clit, as well as kept their tongue inside with the intent to find his G-spot. They kept at it for sometime, their tongue buried deep as their hands massaged over Balan’s heated, dark thighs. They kept the maestro as close as they could as they tongued the bundle of nerves located far up the other’s pelvis.

“Wait! Wait! Lance please... don’t...please-” He hardly could finish the plea as instant rapture shot through his frame, causing him to clench on Lance’s tongue in a spine-melting orgasm. His mouth hung open in a room-rocking cry as his body snapped rigid, arms behind him as he grasped tight on the sheets. His chest thudded rapidly to his erratic breathing. His flesh clenching and tingling around Lance’s tongue the climax continued through him. There would be no reprieve however as he became rigged again, legs snapping around Lance’s head suddenly with another powerful orgasm.

Lance had not stopped even through the second climax. Not even with Balan wailing in what could be felt as pain. The silky walls gushed with his essence, the liquid sex simmering on the negati’s tongue as they drank it. A pleasured laugh rippled through them as they pressed hard kisses to the top of Balan’s pussy. Kissing it several more times as Balan screamed at them in another language. They still didn’t stop as he felt the other kicking at them with feverish intent. When he almost clambered away, Lance reinforced their hold to plunge their tongue into him again.

“For gods sake Lance! I can’t take anymore! Stop, please! I beg of you!” He wailed as tears streamed down his face.

An empathetic grimace came to Lance’s face as they finally relinquished his hold on the thoroughly ruined maestro. Their lips were deliciously wet with the slick of the other’s sex, the taste even better than the wine he captured on Balan’s lips only moments ago. He watched him roll on the sheets, finding some balance of his overheated body and the cold contrast of the dark sheets. Deliriously, he crooned and purred as he came down from the high. It took him about five minutes total to calm himself. And then he smacked Lance’s shoulder. Hard.

“Bastard! I told you to stop! What in the hell would it have taken for you to listen to me?!” He hissed, eyes narrowing darkly as he sat up. He seemed the opposite of pleased at the moment. A contrast that Lance felt prepared to deal with. Can’t please some people. The sentiment literal in Balan’s case.

“You were fine with me not a few minutes ago.” Lance jabbed as they groaned at the pressing of that erection against their tight pants. The glare Balan shot at Lance made the other’s ears pin low.

“That was before I had two orgasms in a row, heathen! You should have more respect for me. And be more receptive Lance. This isn’t just about you!!” He snapped. Nope. None too pleased at all.

Lance blinked, “This... wasn’t about me. Trust that if it were; I would’ve fucked you through this bed. The only reason I didn’t do that is because I want to see you cum. I’ve only ever heard that-”

“Wait, wait a minute. You’ve heard me climax?” Balan started, a touch confused.

“In your bedroom, when you think you’re alone. True, there are no visitors around but someone was always in the theater,” Lance purred as soft as a breeze. The negati smiled at the brightening embarrassment on Balan’s face, wishing now he had his hat to hide it. It softened them so seeing the normally composed, bombastic maestro reduced to a shivering, blushing mess. Gingerly as allowed, Lance caught Balan’s face, causing the other to look at them, “I guess I just wanted to put the face to the voice. And I am not disappointed.”

Lance leaned over to kiss the still warm cheek of the maestro as the other side-eyed him, the smallest smile forming.

“I’m... not used to this side of you. You’re normally so far away from me. In fact doing you’re very best to stay out of my sight. Even when I want you there. You know...”, A slow pause before Balan finished the thought, “You are different... too bad we both have to be backstage to see it.”

“I’m different backstage?!”, Lance’s long ears perked at the comment, not ever having someone feel or compare the sentiment, “I’ll remember that then. Do you want me to continue then? Or would you rather sulk about how I never know about your needs and cues?” Lance’s eyes sparkled with a mischief that could rival Balan’s.

“Yes, damn you. That...was a genuine experience.” He giggled, the noise a delight to Lance’s ears, leaning back on the plushy pillows, tendrils sprawling out comfortably behind him. With a singular exhale Balan relaxed against the sheets, hands going in his hair, fiddling with and tossing a singular white sliver of his tendrils. Only... it wasn’t his hair, Lance noticed and then raised an unseen brow in suspicion.

“Is that... an ear?” They breathed a laugh as Balan hid it in his hair again. When he sat up, it confirmed everything that Lance thought prior; he had the same ears as they did, a slight longer, floppier and appeared to be super soft. The negati’s eyes sparkled as they pulled out the hidden appendages, wondering why they hadn’t noticed them until now.

“I-I-I never liked them. They’re long, cumbersome and don’t fit under my hat properly. So I just have been tying them back along with my dreadlocks. Wha? Why are you pulling them?!” Balan shrieked, his sensitive membranes folding as Lance fiddled with them. The stark white with the hue of light green made the ears stand out, the occasional flap picking up the slightest noise.

“Why hide them? I think they’re absolutely wonderful.” Lance emphasized as they waggled their own long, dark ears. Their ears sat higher than the maestro’s and didn’t bend as much. He crawled over to the negati, aligning his hips in between the others legs with care. Their pulsing erection awoke his deepest desires, causing Lance to grind their clothed crotch into Balan’s exposed one. He gasps weakly, feeling the outline of the negati’s cock against his sensitive folds, gloved hands moving up Lance’s arms to bring them in for a deep kiss.

Consumed by more the kiss than the passion behind it Lance drove their tongue deep into Balan’s mouth, tasting the other’s breath and intermingling the taste of his fluid sex. Balan’s tongue stuck out as Lance’s lips engulfed them, teeth grazing over the appendage while Balan groaned hotly. He brought his head higher, the expert work of that tongue making him drunker than any alcohol. The longer it went, the more impatient the maestro became; his hands going from Lance’s arms to dip into their pants to rip out the other’s cock.

Lance’s eyes flew open as hands peeled off their pants and pulled out their cock, the member free from the strain at last. They’d never lie to themselves about not feeling relieved. The darker phallus was impressive at best; thick in girth and longer than Balan’s, some negati rune marks trailed on either sides of their crotch and lower hips, and the tip looked spire like yet appeared to be soft to the touch. Balan would find out soon enough.

“I get it. This is moving too slow. But I thought that you’d appreciate it.” Lance inquired, chest rippling in steady laughter. It felt like a punishment for forcing Balan to ride out his first orgasms.

Balan didn’t speak as he shoved Lance over, raising himself atop the other. Seated on their lap Balan took in the sight of his paramour, and just how dazzling they appeared. Chest rising and falling with softened breaths, the runes coming to life again in a brief flashes of multicolored lights, but he couldn’t stop looking at the other’s face. The heart marking atop his forehead blazing almost vermillion instead of the darker pink it usually was, their small fangs bared, glittering in the soft purple hue of the bed chambers.

He leant down, kissing the long neck, chest, pressing his lips hard onto his ribs and trailed a heated kiss down their pelvis; stopping just short of that maleness. He spared them a coy heated glance before kissing the drooling tip, eyes going to Lance to see their reaction. The other tensed, mewling the moment they felt those lips, tip swelling on demand.

“I’m going to suck the soul out of you. Just as you had did to me.” The heat in those words made it more fact than statement and Lance couldn’t wait long enough. They could have never imagined having the current maestro of Wonderworld’s mouth on their dick. To be honest, they could not imagine any of this happening right now. There was something so decadent and sinful about the way Balan talked dirty. Such things were just never heard from such an angelic mouth.

He stopped thinking altogether as Balan removed his gloves, throwing them onto one bedside table to fist his thickness roughly, stroking the lengthy girth. Thumbing over the head, he gauged how steady Lance was, the swelling member making the maestro’s mouth drip with unshed spittle. From the way he opened his mouth and sucked in them in deeply, Lance could have sworn that he had done this before yet can never remember a time this would ever happen.

“Ohhh yes! Balan...” Lance’s lungs stopped working the second Balan’s tongue encircled the head and bobbled repeatedly, his saliva silkening his hot length. Lance shuddered, moaning deeply as the tendrils on their back came back to life and spread across Balan’s pussy, massaging the outer vulva instead of the velvet walls. The sensation caused the maestro to moan around the dick in his mouth, a chain reactive shiver from Lance followed.

Balan slowly rocked on the tentacles that fondled on his folds as he swallowed down more of Lance, lips almost resting on their crotch before pulling off. Soon the maestro began working his hands with his tongue, hands pulling at the medium sized balls as the underside of the long cock was stroked by Balan’s tongue.

The tentacles worked Balan harder, the other groaning loudly with the near penetration on one tendril. The movement caused Lance to swear, hands digging into his hair, pushing the mint colored coils out of his face.

“Don’t stop Balan! Please don’t stop!”, Lance cried as they got closer to an explosive release. The vision of seeing cum painting the maestro’s immaculate, lovely face caused a shudder to surge out unconsciously. The tentacles groped the silky vulva with an intensity that caused Balan to pull off the other’s cock to choke out a cry.

“Lance!,” Balan called, drippings of drool falling onto the sheets as he shivered on the tentacles that never penetrated. He growled low as he pushed himself back on the largest of the tentacles, the bulb going right into his pussy, slicked with the welcomed wetness, “Ha, oh yess.” He crooned before stuffing the throbbing cock back into his mouth, pumping and sucking with the same vigor as the tentacle inside.

Lance mumbled something in a different language, thrusting into Balan’s warm mouth, along with the tentacle slipping through the sticky mess seeping from his tightening walls. They could barely muster the maestro’s name as a ringing sound flushed through their ears, body going tight as a bow while Balan swallowed down the cock fully. Their hands dug into the other’s hair making sure Balan was close enough to swallow all of the rich, violet colored seed as it splashed down his throat. The tentacle widened inside of his pussy, pushing on the clit with the vibration of its master’s climax.

They thrashed in zeal as Balan continued to suck them dry, not worried about the veiny tentacle that fucked him deep. He was determined to live up to his statement; soft, warm hands smoothing over Lance’s sharp hips as he swallowed him down more, moaning and whimpering as the length sputtered more seed. When the tentacle pushed more into the G-spot, Balan cried out, forcing his hips down to rock with his new orgasm. He had to get the cock out of his mouth in order breathe a bit proper as his walls vibrated with the climax.

The room became blanketed in a contented silence as they both came from their highs; Lance’s chest heaving air as Balan sat on their hips to find his mind. He purred with fervor as the tentacle slipped out of his cunt.

“That was good, yes?” Balan inquired, eyes wide and soft, body just as soft and pliant as he awaited a reply. The poor darling was self-conscious. A trait he never displayed when performing for anyone, nor anything.

Lance’s laugh brightened the maestro’s be-speckled face, ears twitching with the tenor of sound.

“That was the best head I’ve ever gotten, my lune-light. And you did what you said you would do.” Lance spoke breathlessly while they leant up to brush their forehead against Balan’s. The feathery kiss, as well as the compliment, drove the other to keen delightedly, ears flapping in exuberance.

“Your... ears. They flap whenever you’re excited or praised don’t they?” Oh, Lance was about to be so evil now. The sly grin invited as much.

Balan nodded his head, not even knowing he was acknowledging the question, smiling and flushing like mad as he did.

“Look at you. Flushed, heated and so devilishly handsome. A most salacious siren you turned into,” Lance growled as they pulled himself up but kept Balan in his lap, “A gorgeous being like you deserves to be drenched in the most opulent of pleasures. The thickest form of desire. Do you want me to worship you?” That damning voice caused Balan to shudder and grasp them in desperation.

“Yes! Worship me, worship my very body, revere it!”, He shouted, no longer bringing himself to care about anything other than the euphoria, “I want to feel you in me, on me, all over me!” Heat basked from his body as his ears flapped, mouth open in heavy pants. His naked cunt rocked on Lance’s cock, not sinking in fully. The movement caused Lance to spur into action, going on their knees to better to better position Balan, the maestro spreading his thighs eagerly on Lance’s lap.

Lance’s fingers intertwined with Balan’s, his hands warm and only touch wet. They pressed their teeth into the skin, reveling in the dark wrists that glowed subtly with golden accents and swirling patterns. Lance repeated the motion, tongue lapping at both wrists, palms and fingers. Lance felt the smoothness of the maestro’s beautiful hands. Their eyes shimmering in reverence as they pressed sweet kisses to each fingertip slowly. Their own hands felt up his palms; still so warm and just as silky soft. That tongue continued to trace the long golden lines, taking his time to press his lips into his wrists.

“Balan...” There weren’t enough words for Lance to say, or piece together for the time spent with each other. Nothing could prepare either of them for the sheer intensity of this new emotion. Melding of carnal lusts neither have the ability to describe. So for the first time tonight... Lance stopped talking. Letting only their bodies say so much more.

Steadying him, Lance brought Balan down on the hard thickness slowly, agonizing slow. The maestro’s glint was hot and heady, hands going to Lance’s shoulders as support. Lance heaved a hot moan, aligning the next thrust directly into the maestro. There wasn’t a need to test if the other was ready for it or not; his tightness giving way subtly with each small piston. The fiery gaze of Balan soften into kindled embers once he was fully seated on the other’s cock. He was starting to perspire, a reaction that Balan never had to anything in his life. Rushing sweat beaded down his neck, his chest and around his waist glazing him in a hue of condensation that began to make his body slippery.

They stayed in each other’s laps for a second before Lance thrust upwards, igniting Balan’s tongue again. He cried out in another language, most likely a swear considering the dialect. He groaned weakly, his body submitting to the roughness Lance invited with each movement. The moment Lance had worked out the rhythm the thrusts became harsher, more precise, pinpointing the exact spot to hammer him into a delectable frenzy. Lance’s breaths got rougher, louder, more of their teeth becoming exposed as they snarled in ecstasy.

Balan could barely hold on. Literally. His grip on Lance’s shoulders loosened each time the negati impaled him, the motions making him too sensitive, body on fire. Though barely cognitive, Balan did his best to rock up to meet with his thorough pounding. Moving his hips at an angle, Balan caught the ribs of Lance’s spired phallus, screaming out as it stabbed him.

The maestro’s screams did something primal to Lance, the sex-fueled fire warping and corrupting their licentious mind.

“You like it?”, The negati spoke deeply, the baritone voice smokey and laced like a honey-tipped whiskey glass, “Look at yourself. Becoming undone with just my cock. You cannot comprehend how fucking devilish you are! Siren!” Lance dragged Balan down, further stabbing him with the rigged member. They were so close yet weren’t about to go if Balan didn’t first. They were going to see the maestro climax on his dick. There would be nothing to stop it now. Astoundingly, Balan replied to the question, voice much like Lance’s yet tremulous in its form.

“Yes! I love it, I love you!,” His gaze meets the others in an embrace that Lance cannot escape from, “I love you so much, don’t stop please.” The plea is whispered as the remainder of Balan’s self control is pounded out of him. His lanky legs surrounding the negati, forcing them to stay the course as his cunt devours them hungrily.

It becomes too much for Lance; the fucking, the confession... just the sounds of Balan’s voice as they fuck. They snap forward hard, cock slamming the maestro’s pelvis as they climax, taking Balan right with them. The guttural snarl that surges from Lance actually scares Balan, those golden eyes wide with an erotic fear of the other before it fades with a deep-bodied orgasm that reverberates through his soul. He wails out, the pleasure so cavernous it eats him alive, body stiffening to the point of pain, absolution and exultation drowning him in high waves. His clit sucks Lance of everything; reason, sense, the will to stop. He trembles at the feeling of the other’s seed shooting inside of him, viscous ropes of cum shoot forth as Lance loses the rhythm of their own thrusts.

They stop fully when Balan’s cunt loosens its hold, the negati falling forward atop the messy sheets. Balan makes a cry of something between pain and pleasure when he is flopped on his back with Lance atop him. Lance’s member has yet to soften inside the other’s creamy walls, the spired tip rubbing on Balan’s g-spot.

The room falls silent again, save for the heavy pants and breathless laughs from the two. Neither recovering fast enough as the euphoria drains all other sensations from their bones. Lance’s spine is dexterous as wet spaghetti, mouth open in loud gulps of air. Balan fares no better, legs twitching uncontrollably. Bare chest dripping with sweat, golden markings along his arms and stomach gleaming and flickering in the contrasting violet lights. His coils are drenched as well, pouring over his eyes and messily over his face. Speckled markings aglow with the shades of amethyst make him look pulchritudinous.

Lance raise themselves up, both of their hands going on either side of the exhausted maestro’s supine form, loins still burning from the near volcanic heat from their fucking. They readjust their position, body flush to the other, seeming to never be close enough. They smile softly as Balan smiled chastely at them.

“That was fantastic... honestly the best sex I’ve ever had.” Balan complimented, his eyes not as glazed from before.

“Good to know, but I hope you didn’t start thinking it was over?” Lance drawled, the tone eerily lustful.

Balan stares quizzically. How could anyone want another go after that?

“You want to go again?”

“Just one more?,” Lance breathily laughed as their hips rock gently, phallus a touch harder than prior, “If it helps, you can lie on your back and I’ll handle the rest.” They lean over Balan, kissing his cheeks and the heart on his forehead.

Balan rolled his eyes. He wasn’t complaining about another time, but his body sure was. He internally decided one more bout wouldn’t cause too much strain.

“Lancelot, the insatiable one. Who knew you’d be addicted to my cunt?” Balan chuckled; the nickname still an endearment to Lance. It would be rude to lie about how the name made them warm on the inside. And hearing that sugared voice utter it with a playful air softened the negati.

“Not just your cunt... but you as well. I love you too.” The words came out before Lance knew. Their lips moved yet didn’t have any prior knowledge of it until seeing the way Balan stiffened, long ears swaying upwards at the words.

Both of their chests fluttered; Lance never expected to say those words during sex. This...this was not supposed to be about love. And yet, it was all Lance had on their mind. They had Balan now. All they would have to do is love him. In more than this way. With all of this joy they had felt in the confession, the familiar ick of something tar-like bubbled to the surface. Lance’s mind honed in on all the deprecating things the voice said.

‘What? You can love? Oh Lance... it will be ruined by you so soon.’

‘You once loved...and look at what it turned you into!’

‘This is sex Lance... that’s all it will. ever. be.’

‘He can only feel pity for loving a monster like you’.

The voices began to make Lance physically sick. No matter how hard Lance tried, they wouldn’t be willed quiet. They began to tremble uselessly, a sob retching from the negati as those thoughts and words; their own words swallowed them.

The maestro lunged forward, planting a kiss on the other’s lips. The cathartic heat that came from it brought Lance out of their head, focusing on the other below them. They both stayed lip-locked for a moment, Balan kissing as if Lance were about to drown any minute. The kiss saving them from themselves for a moment like this. The voices dissipated, barely a hum coming from the back of Lance’s mind. They didn’t matter. Only Balan did. The kiss ending when Balan pressed those lips to the fuchsia colored heart atop Lance’s brow.

The touch was so gentle. So tender that it made Lance’s heart swell.

They looked down at Balan, who smiled pleasantly back at them. The look of love so much more than it could ever be. ‘It’s okay. You’re okay’ is what those golden pools spoke even if Lance didn’t hear it aloud. There wouldn’t be a need to.

In spite of how small it was; Lance smiled. The motion felt real. He hadn’t had a genuine smile in over a thousand years. Gods, when was the last time he felt pure happiness unfold in his heart? There’d be a time and place to think on that later as they shifted Balan’s hips more, grinding forward, hips shifting to reawaken his long erection. The stings of pleasure rode through Balan, arms going behind his head to grab for the jumbled mess of velvet purple blankets. A small whine went past his lips as Lance’s midline bumped against Balan’s pelvis again, causing a flare of scorching desire to arise. The maestro never subdued, or otherwise suppressed his moans. He would allow Lance the ability to hear how he felt for him.

The negati gripped Balan beneath his thighs, pulling his legs away so they could splay open. The new position allowed Balan to relax instead of trying to readjust too often.

A surprised gasp from the maestro made Lance look at his face; the beatific expression of this dazzling, bewitching and downright mesmeric creature spurring Lance to pump into him harder. The be-speckled maestro had his eyes closed, turning out the warm, shimmering pools of the richest gold many would never see.

“Please lune-light, open your eyes for me.” The reciprocal adulation of love Lance gave could break someone’s heart and warm another’s but it was his tone that made Balan’s eyes open; aroused and so husky. When he looked upon the negati, a form of ardor seeped through him. A shy smile graced his features as he nuzzled into Lance’s chest.

“Ohhh, say that again. Call me that again,” He whispered as his body arched with the deeper, slower thrusts, “I need to hear it again, Lance.” He began pining for the sound of the other’s voice, chest heaving in irregular patterns. Long ears flicked up, picking up the sounds of Lance’s exertions as they grounded each other closer to climax.

“Lune-light...my lovely lune-light, you are so stunning.” Lance cooed, eyes warm as they watched Balan’s ears flap in jubilance. They fucked into him harder, faster when Balan’s hands went from the sheets to cling to Lance’s arms in order to steady himself. He was succumbing again, mind lost as avaricious lust ensnared his visage.

Lance repositioned one hand to grab the maestro’s tight waist and underneath his back, slowing their thrusts first in order to shift a portion of their weight to sink in deeper. They kissed the inner thigh of Balan’s left leg as the other hand grabbed there and held him tight. The new position brought Balan’s ass up from the bed, both legs hanging on either side of Lance as they brought their pelvis’s together. The negati had to get to their knees for the next part to become effective, sprawling their hips a little. When they had gotten in position, they leant over to press another reverent kiss to Balan’s forehead, the friction causing the maestro to growl.

“Move. Lance, I beg you.” Balan’s resistance melted a long time ago as his hands tightened around Lance’s upper arms.

When they move, Balan’s equilibrium gets flipped upside down. The position had the maestro screaming so loud, Lance tipped their ears down to block out the sound. The reaction was instant, the gorgeous being’s mouth flying open as he threw his head back with each stroke. His hands scrambled for purchase of the negati as he began thrusting back on the other’s cock. Body spasming at the rippling sensations.

The change in position did wonders for Lance as well; they were able to take in all of the other’s grace, elegance and succulent desire. The screams of pure ecstasy powered Lance onward, eyes half-lidding as they aimed their thrusts. Lance felt the maestro’s bruising grasp loosen, the body tightening from the exertion. He looked as if he was going to lose his mind again; assuming he had ever found it after the first few times.

“Look at this.... look at you,” Lance growled, hands leaving Balan’s waist to drag the other further down, “This is what I have been wishing for. I’ve have been waiting for you and this! Gods, now that I have you, I’m not letting you go.” The negati enunciated a portion of their words with alternating thrusts that caused Balan to spasm around them erratically, the maestro’s head swaying, more mooring, like a boat on torrential waters.

Balan tried to stutter something in response. There could not be any words he could be able to use in a circumstance like this. The euphoria blanketing his headspace, only the want for this to never end on Balan’s mind. He wished he could stay like this forever; being loved in between his legs the way that Lance was loving him. Tears welled up but were blinked back. That familiar entrapment, that build was upon him now. A spring ready for release as Balan angled himself to meet a harsher thrust from Lance. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he tugged on the negati for some leverage. And he tugged at him desperately.

“I-I-I can’t-- hold it back much! Lance, I need this! I can’t hold back! Oh my gods!” Balan’s pleasured whimpers were music to the other, the noise causing Lance to pulsate inside those divine walls. He was about to let it all go. Neither of them capable of denying their animalistic need for a blissful finish.

“Do not hold back my lune-light! I want us to be in climax together. I’m ready, just like you are. Lock me inside your heaven!” Lance yelled, throwing their head back unabashedly for the final few thrusts.

Something in the gravelly tone caused Balan to relent all self control at that moment, the high octane pressure rushing from his pelvis, seeping into his blood in a body rattling orgasm. He screamed, more belted out his release, muscles contracting and constricting in a severe, mind-numbing vice. He could no longer keep his eyes open, passion scalding his insides making his body heat unbearable.

He kept spasming, helpless as Lance roared one last time, pinning Balan’s softened frame to theirs in a rough, possessing manner. They dove off the pinnacle with as much fury and need as Balan did. Their fingers dug into the tender skin, maw wide with a roar that shook the room. The negati’s own form convulsing and seizing as Balan’s cunt squeezed their cock to the point where it ached. They shuddered with the intensity and rush of seed; feeling way too hot inside of the maestro, shooting deep inside, not stopping even as Lance humped Balan through their own climax.

When they were sure they had nothing left to give Lance let Balan go, the other’s spent body flopping atop the bedspread. The negati pushed back their inky dreads back from the sweat drenched face, eyes slightly glazed. They shook with the inglorious feeling of satisfaction before pulling out of Balan’s thoroughly ruined cunt, their cum drooling out in delectable, erotic ribbons. The scent of the intermingling sex made the cock twitch. Without a thought given, Lance’s pointer finger went past the swollen, beat-up lips of the maestro’s pussy; swiping the oversensitive folds for just a taste of the cream.

Balan yelled, overstimulated and a touch annoyed, kicking at Lance.

“Fucking stop! You’re going to kill me!” Balan cursed, his chest heaving. He was the perfect picture of the word ‘ruined’; mint-colored coils askew all over his face, sublime form thrumming with the residual orgasm.

“Would this have not been the best death to have?” Lance giggled sweetly, tongue slipping out to lap at the mixed cream of their sex. The taste was of it was so divine, it couldn’t be described. When their legs regained function Lance dipped into the conjoined bathroom. Balan barely registered the sound of water coming from a faucet. Though he wasn’t going to register anything for a while. His eyes slipped closed, breathing becoming more steady as the high simmered out of his frame. He didn’t hear Lance’s footfalls when the other returned into the room yet the feeling of the cold, damp cloth felt exquisite on his hypersensitive skin. He smiled happily as the cloth went over his face, chest, arms and even his back, swiping away as much sweat that wasn’t collected by the sullied bedsheets.

He winced as the cloth went between his legs, touches kept tender and dainty while the negati cleaned his clit. The movements were apologetic in the sense of the rough handling. With the remnants of their sex thoroughly cleaned, Lance threw the dirty cloth into a hamper nearby and crawled into bed. They felt the need to say something to Balan, yet was not prepared to see the other fully asleep. The smile remained on his face as he dreamt soundly. Safely.

The maestro rarely slept so seeing him do so, even in the other’s bed, was recherché. The moment a surprise to see with their own eyes. It warmed their heart in so many ways. Lance wondered inwardly if their heart could get any fuller. Carefully, as to not wake him, they slid Balan’s frame underneath the heavy blankets, keeping his head low to rest it against the larger puffy pillows.

As much as Lance tried, they couldn’t lie to themselves about how adorable and desirable this being was. Is... and still will be. They could make up some spun tale about how Balan lusted for the feeling of this sex. And yet, they wouldn’t. They weren’t going to deny the affirmations and litanies of love, passion and reverence he bestowed. In this way, Lance loved Balan. Balan had loved them too. This new feeling blossomed and flowed within them. It was all Lance cared about and would gift this love in kind to Balan tenfold. It was definitely what they both deserved.

For now, Lance snuggled into the maestro, a happy little smile playing on their cheeks whilst pressing their face into the other’s neck. The mint-colored coils of the other’s hair fell in a tangle on Lance’s face, making them wrinkle their nose.

“I...love you, lune-light...”, Lance whispered pressing a singular reverent kiss to the glowing heart on Balan’s forehead, the mark shimmering against the darkness. The negati nuzzled the sleeping being, arms crossing Balan’s chest to swaddle him close to their body, “I don’t know if you had heard me, but I just hope you know.”

Unknown to Lance, Balan had heard him. His own smile was genial and kind, taking the affirmation as it was. There was no need for Lance to explain themselves. Such things like this rarely, if ever, happened. So Balan accepted this. He had openly accepted that Lance is, and will remain, worthy of love.

“I love you.” The enamored statement was simple, sweet and soft-sounding. So such so that Balan wasn’t sure Lance heard him, the negati was already snoring before he could say anymore. With an exhale, Balan’s eyes slipped shut once more. His own hands went around to hold Lance’s closer to his body. Their combined warmth radiating soothingly as they slept throughout the rest of the night.

#balan wonderworld #balan #balan wonderworld lance #Lance #nsft #lemon

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everything-laito · 3 years

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Hypersexuality and Laito Sakamaki (UPDATED)

Hiya guys! Been a long ass time since I’ve made a post like this, I’ve been getting so much ask box activity + had school so I haven’t had the time to make an original post! This has been something I wanted to write for a while, and not only was I busy with school, but this one hits home hard to me personally, so I was going back and forth for a bit writing it. But I think I’m ready :)

I know there’s kind of a general consensus that anything DL related comes along with a trigger warning whether stated or not, but just a TW considering I’ll be talking about some real life experiences; not in depth or detail of course, but just mentions of it :) Not only is this a Laito analysis but it’s also an educational tool to help other people know about this!

So, without further ado, rant under the cut!

Hypersexuality is something that many sexual assault/harassment and rape survivors experience after the abuse. People associate asexuality or sexual repulsion as the only (or common) psychological affect after experiencing those situations. However, there is another affect that can happen, and it is more common than people think, and aforementioned, it’s hypersexuality. It’s basically having more sexual feeling and urges after the experience, in order to cope with the nonconsensual one. And it’s exactly what Laito experienced after Cordelia’s abuse.

I’ve also experienced something like this. I don’t believe I’ve experienced it in full swing, but definitely something like it. I haven’t been raped thankfully, but I have been sexually harassed/assaulted before a handful of times. I know I’ve briefly mentioned that in other analyses, but I’m just explicitly stating it here.

I first learned about hypersexuality this year actually, and my Laito nerd brain was like “holy shit that’s the name of what Laito is going through.” Then I was like “oh fuck I’ve gone through that a little bit too.” I thought going along with would help me “heal” myself, and it really was doing the opposite. (UPDATE: realized that what I thought was a lot of sexual trauma/hypersexuality was mostly compulsory heterosexuality (but still with those dabbled in too—quite a terrible combo) because last month I realized I’m not attracted to men! Although those experiences I mentioned did mess me up a bit, realizing this is a huge step in the right direction for my own mental well being. Just had to make this correction on my part, since the original post had more emotional investment than I would have liked it to :))

Like I have said in my little update, I realized I was going through mostly compulsory heterosexuality while also going through some minor sexual trauma/hypersexuality. Although again, I have not had it as bad as Laito has or other sexual assault survivors (which I am grateful for that), I still have a personal grasp of coping mechanisms with traumatic experiences or experiences I did not particularly enjoy. (If you are interested in learning more about compulsory heterosexuality, feel free to send me an ask! I just don’t feel that it’s appropriate to talk about it in regards to Laito or make a post about it, since it doesn’t relate to him)

And that’s probably also why I can resonate with Laito so much, at least on that scale, and even if I experienced a grain of what he’s going through. I know he’s fictional but these are definitely real experiences and real feelings.

Laito’s case is a bit different than just feeling overtly sexual. Although he’s trying to heal himself through sex and other intimate actions, he’s also doing it as a type of revenge. He doesn’t like purity, and in fact, he’s quite jealous of it. I’ve heard this is also a pretty human way of coping with this type of abuse, and it is why I love Yui as a character. She’s incredibly strong and sets an example for Laito. This makes Laito jealous yet entertained by her, and that’s also a reason why he probably keeps her around. He also attempts to use Yui as a vessel to avenge his own feelings (even not knowing about Cordelia being in her at first). I personally wasn’t like that, but given the circumstances, there’s definitely people who are. Laito’s character can be so human to me sometimes, its astonishing, despite him being a character, a vampire, and just generally does some wacky or terrible shit.

You could say his hypersexuality could also be similar to typical Pavlovian Conditioning. You’ve probably heard of the whole experiment of training (conditioning) a dog to expect food when they hear a certain sound and thus, his mouth waters. We’re conditioned by a lot of things in our lives, from triggering a “flight or fight” response from this specific ringtone or high school bell. It’s just a built in “routine” our minds utilize to process pattern recognition. I know I say this a lot, but we don’t know how vampire brains in the DL universe compare to human brains (and quite frank, I don’t think we will), so I will just do my typical human brain picking.

In Laito’s case, he was conditioned to “love” Cordelia in a fashion that was incredibly gross. No, I won’t sugar coat it. In my Cordelia/Laito analysis, I talk about how Laito was probably groomed. Grooming is another type of conditioning. Although I don’t believe his grooming was sexual, it definitely “prepares” the victim to be exploited in that fashion later on. It’s to build a false sense of trust to be betrayed. Later on, when Cordelia started having sex with Laito, he became used to it in a “conditioned” fashion. When someone said that Cordelia was calling him, he knew what it was. He also thought it’s what he wanted, even though he knew that he didn’t. I believe I have referenced his MB Dark Prologue monologue before, but not this part of it. Here’s the monologue:

――Who is it that I give my love to? Throwing myself away, I caught the sight of someone Someone I didn’t recognize, Suddenly, I realized I was looking into a mirror. The mirror reflected myself within it. I couldn’t see anything else. I am disgraceful for this greed. I was wearing a visage. What I wanted, certainly was love. It’s not that easy. Because of these words, I suffer. No matter how many times love is said, The only thing that will be important to me, Is only the physical contact and body.

I know I've said it in the Laito/Cordelia analysis, but Laito is visibly confused in his flashbacks. He’s trying to grasp what love is, but then convinces himself that love is physical contact, and not emotional connection, especially near the end. He knows he’s suffering but he is still conditioned to think like this. Same case for people who suffer from hypersexuality.

Although many people do not know why it occurs, it can be a symptom or “side effect” from disorders, medication, and the like. In the sexual trauma case, I believe a main reason is that the person utilizes sex to cope with trauma, or because they are used to sexual acts being forced upon them. That’s where conditioning still comes in. He’s treated as one of her suitors, lovers, or the like. Even as a stand-in for Richter and Karlheinz. He doesn’t consider Cordelia to be his mom until the DF Vampire ending. On top of him not receiving emotional gratification which leads to all sorts of just awful stuff for him, sexual attention is the only type that he receives until Yui comes along. He is used to not having emotional support or connections, which is why physical contact is what he is more “comfortable” with, while at the end of the day it still does not satisfy him.

It creates a positive feedback loop of him being unsatisfied, while being confused about where he’s unsatisfied in, leading to him trying to “fix” himself or avoid his own personal, emotional problems through lust and sex, but then still finding himself not “healing.” Then the cycle continues, enthusing his hyper sexual behavior even more.

I was sent some great articles from @souchiika on the DL discord (thank you so much!) and one of the articles stood out to me, since I did not talk about this type of topic on this blog yet. Here’s the link to the article, and here’s the quote that stood out to me!

Furthermore, indirect effects were also statistically significant, providing support to the hypothesis that depression and guilt would be serial mediators of trauma-hypersexual behavior relations. The paths through depression and guilt have been found to be the most significant with moderate and high indirect effects on hypersexuality. Moreover, male gender, as covariate variable, is a relevant risk factor for hypersexual behavior.

Hypersexuality is something that is still being researched like I mentioned earlier, but since these findings came out, it definitely makes sense in Laito’s case (and in general). Like I said, Laito does feel unsatisfied and even shameful of his actions, which is more apparent in the beginning of his and Cordelia’s “relationship.” In those flashbacks, he asks himself if this is what he really wants, and although he attempts to force himself to like these actions as a coping mechanism, there is still a relative degree of shame and guilt he has. It is also apparent nearing his DF Ecstacy ending when he finds out that Karlheinz foresaw Cordelia having sex with him, and even wanted it to happen. All that shame and guilt came bellowing out while he was in a fit of distress. In initial attempts to mediate this guilt and shame, he projected his feelings onto other women through sexual acts, leading to more of this hypersexual loop. I know I talk about Laito projecting a lot, but it is frequent in his character. Like I’ve always said, it’s typical “bully” power dynamic manipulation. If Laito can bring a victim of his down to his level, then he feels better about himself (but it satisfies him for only a short while, until Yui in MB+).

Also, note that this is no excuse or justification for him to rape or sexually assault others. It is merely an explanation as to why he does it (as for my posts in general, it’s not a justification, it’s an explanation).

Another reminder that rape and sexual assault isn’t about the sexual urges, but about power. That’s why anybody with any background can do it, given the circumstances.

This post was a bit hard for me to write, so I apologize if I got too overtly personal for your liking. Like I’ve said in the past, I’m not writing this to gain sympathy too, and sure that sounds superficial of me to say now (although I truly mean it), I just want to use my platform as an educational tool. Sorry about the change in my typical tone :)

Sorry if this was too much of a doozy, I really wanted to talk about it and to educate people, despite it being a bit personal. I just felt like the most effective way was to convey how real this topic is, despite this fandom knowing about it in a fictional setting.

I hope you have a great day! -Corn

#analysis #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #corn gets personal #sakamaki raito #raito sakamaki #diabolik lovers #dialover #dialovers #dl

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lewdanimevsirl · 3 years

Text

Do you know whale have 1500 litres?

WARNING: This story is a work of fiction and contains many mature elements. Please do not continue if you are unable to handle such content.

NOTE: The characters in this story are based on their depiction in Fate Grand Order which is developed by Delightworks and based on Type-Moon's Fate franchise. I am neither a marine biologist nor a lore expert, thus some terms and information used may be inaccurate, but I have provided references (you hardly see those in these type of content) at the end. Sorry for any weird English or grammatical mistakes.

Summer

Jeanne d' Arc, Maid of Orléans, Holy Maiden of Salvation, Ruler. And now lying on the shoreline in front of me, covered in white gooey substance and her swimsuit all torn and tattered. Her black bikini was hanging off her body while her blue hoodie was covered in white sticky substances. How did this even happen?

It was summer, and like most servants, Jeanne had a summer-swimsuit form. The holy maiden of the tropics, the star of the dolphin world. I always wonder why she became an archer that shoots dolphins. But after this incident, I realised the truth behind it….

A few months ago,

Ever since I summoned Jeanne into Chaldea, we had a healthy Master-Servant relationship. We fought enemies together, we shared our worries together, we shared our joy together.

One day resting with Jeanne after a hard day of farming,

"I can't wait for summer to come. Can't wait to just sit back and enjoy myself." I entered my room and slammed my face onto the bed. "We really deserve the break from all the farming and fighting that we do. Not to mention we can finally bring out those swimsuits." "Yes, it's good to take a break." Jeanne followed behind me and took a seat at the table.

"Jeanne! Anything you looking forward to in the summer?"

"Summer? Hmmmm…. Heading to the beach. Can't wait to meet Reece. I missed him," Jeanne smiled while answering the question.

"Reece?! Oh ya, your dolphin… You never did tell me how you met Reece" I sat back up, hoping that Jeanne would share some stories about her dolphin with me.

"Ahh… uhm… It's a long story, we can leave it for another day." Jeanne quickly brushed off the question.

"Fineeee… But mind introducing me to Reece? I would love to chill with a dolphin!"

"Uhm… sure, Master, if you don't mind…"

I did not notice it then, but Jeanne was embarrassed and was hesitating with her words. I thought it was because she was tired, so I did not ask her any further questions. But it was during summer, that I finally found out the truth behind her words.

Summer

Finally, it is summer. I can sit back and enjoy myself. No more farming. No more grinding. I get to enjoy myself on the beach and enjoy the cold sea breeze. Well, that is what I thought I would be doing. But instead, I am stuck in a crammed room, helping the Dragon Witch, Jeanne Alter AKA Jalter (Jeanne's tsundere alter) with her work.

"May I come in?" a knock from the door interrupted our discussion over the work.

"Stop interrupting us! State your purpose and leave," Jalter shouted intensely, "Some of us have work to do!" "I am sorry, I just want to ask if Master is free now" the door swinged open and Jeanne sheepishly entered the room.

"Master, how do I look?" Jeanne strolled happily into the room, dressed in a black bikini wrapped around with a blue hoodie. "You asked about my swimsuit the other day."

"You look stunning…." I replied immediately only to be met by a stack of paper slapped onto my face. "Stop staring her and start doing work, you pathetic Master!" "Sorry you tsundere Witch, I am just complimenting your sister! Don't tell me you are jealo…" another stack of paper hit my face before I could finish my sentence.

"Sorry Jeanne, I am unable to join you and meet Reece now. I need to help this annoyance with her work…." I apologised to Jeanne. "You better be!" Jalter quipped in. "Don't wait for me, you should enjoy the summer. I will find you after I am done."

Jeanne looked at the piles of papers stacked across the room. "It's fine Master, work is important. I will just head off first. Will not interrupt you guys any further" Jeanne took a bow and start making her way out. "So sorry about…." "Quit yapping! We need to get this done by today." Jalter interrupted me as I sadly watched Jeanne exit the room, leaving the both of us struggling with work.

At the Beach

"Jeanne, you look loving today!" "Jeanne, join us!" "Jeanne, pity Master could not join us!"

While I was stuck in a crammed little room helping Jalter with her doujins, the rest of the Servants were enjoying themselves at the beach. Some of them lying along the shore suntanning, some of them swimming and surfing, and there was even a sandcastle competition.

"Jeanne, are you not joining us?" "Sorry, not today. I have something I need to do." Jeanne politely declined the other Servants. Instead of partaking in the activities with the rest of the Servants on the main beach, Jeanne made her way onto the far side of the beach.

"Now that Master is busy, I should take the time to indulge myself" Jeanne thought to herself as she walked towards the far corner of the beach.

Far side of the beach

"Reece!" Jeanne ran towards the shoreline and shouted for her beloved dolphin.

Squeaking and splashing noises could be heard as a dolphin could be seen swimming towards the shoreline.

"I miss you so much!" Jeanne run towards Reece and hug the dolphin tightly. Reece rubbed against Jeanne and squeaked in delight. "I know you are excited, but not here Reece. You know the drill, let us go further out." Reece squeaked and started swimming towards a rock formation at the corner of the shore.

"Smart boy, you know what I wanted" As Reece swam back from the rocks, he brought back a raft. The raft appeared stable and looked as though it has been used multiple times. Jeanne boarded the raft and petted Reece on the snout. "I know you are excited, I am too, let's go so that I can give you your reward." Reece squeaked and started pulling the raft towards the middle of the ocean.

"I wonder how Scrooge has been doing. It has been a long time."

Although research on the anatomy of aquatic mammals and how they reproduce is still ongoing, current research has found that the reproductive organs of aquatic mammals such as dolphins (Howard, 2009) and whales (Whales Online, n.d.) are hidden in a genital slit. During mating, the penis of the male partner will protrude out of the genital slit and penetrate the female's vagina. Due to this, many aquatic mammals mate either belly to belly or turned on the side.

Dolphins do not only engage in sexual acts with the intent of reproduction. They also driven to engage in such acts for pleasure. "It is more accurate to state that animals (including humans and dolphins) are often driven to engage in sexual acts because the act itself is rewarding" (Dolphins Communication Project, 2014).

A typical size of a common dolphin's penis is approximately the size of a human hand (Lunau, 2017). However, they have a prehensile penis, meaning they can "swivel, grab and grope, much like a human hand" (Wetzel, 2020). This is so that they can navigate the "unusual vaginal folds, spirals and recesses" (Orbach, 2017)

In the middle of the ocean

"Alright Reece, this is far enough." The dolphin stopped and started squeaking loudly. "Alright alright, I shall reward you for your effort." Jeanne leaned forward and petted Reece on the snout, before kissing him on the lips.

People have often wondered about the story behind Jeanne and Reece. Some say Jeanne rescued Reece from captivity. Others say Reece respect Jeanne for being a holy maiden of the sea. But unlike the simple and typical girl-meeting-dolphin stories that people believed, the truth is that Jeanne and Reece helped to fulfil each other's sexual needs.

Jeanne slowly descend into the ocean while leaning against the edge of the raft. "Alright Reece, I am ready! Time to receive your reward!" Reece squeaked and started swimming around Jeanne, before stopping in front of her and rubbing his snout against her chest.

"Stop it Reece, you know what I want." Reece stopped rubbing and ascended with his penis protruding out of his genital slit. "Good boy! This is what I have been waiting for! Enjoy your reward, you naughty boy." Jeanne began rubbing Reece's penis with her hands before placing it into her mouth.

You might think the irregular-shaped prehensile penis is unable to fit into the Holy Maiden's petite mouth. But Jeanne was experienced in putting irregular-shaped objects into her mouth. Jeanne started bobbing her head back and forth, licking the tip of Reece's penis while rubbing it. "Someone has been a bad boy, someone's cock is grabbing my tongue, so aggressive." Jeanne continued to lick Reece's penis while occasionally touching herself.

After a few moments, loud squeaking sound could be heard. Reece squeaked loudly as he erupted all his dolphin semen into Jeanne's mouth. White gooey dolphin semen dripped down Jeanne's mouth and splattered onto her black bikini and blue hoodie. "Delicious! Just like the first day we met." With a single gulp, Jeanne swallowed it and started licking her mouth. She then proceeded to lick Reece's penis clean. "I hope you enjoyed your reward Reece," Jeanne kissed the happy dolphin on the snout. "Now that you are clean, I need you to call Scrooge for me."

Instead of calling for Scrooge, Reece squeaked and started to nibble Jeanne's breasts. Within seconds, the dolphin had bitten Jeanne's bikini top off and began to nibble on her nipples. "Stop it… Hyahh… Reece! I… Ahhhh… already given… Hyah… your reward." Jeanne tried to stop Reece in between moans. "I… Ahhh… know you…. Haa… want to… Hyahhh… make me cum… Ahhh…but I am…Uhh… preparing for… Hah… the main course."

Reece whimpered softly and stopped nibbling. "I know you are a good boy and you definitely made me happy with all the dolphin cum, but I am preparing for Scrooge." Jeanne petted the dolphin. "I will let you do me next time, alright?" Reece squeaked loudly and started diving into the ocean.

"Ok, time to prepare for the main course." Jeanne laid back onto the raft and adjusted her black bikini bottom such that her vagina is exposed. "I wonder if Scrooge will be happy to see me." Jeanne thought to herself while she touched her own breasts and vagina.

Soon, a rumbling sound could be heard beneath the ocean.

Like the dolphins, the penis of the blue whale is prehensile to navigate the multiple folds of the female's vagina (Whales Online, n.d.). However, the size of the blue whale is much larger than that of a dolphin. An average size of a blue whale penis is 2.4 metres (Whales Online, n.d.). When erect, it expands to about 30cm (12 inches) in diameter and about 3m (10 feet) in length (University of Wisconsin, 2012). "The erect penis can be guided using muscles, almost as if it were equipped with a homing device" (Whales Online, n.d.). In addition, "each ejaculation of a blue whale could produce around 20 litres of sperm" (Whales Online, n.d.).

During mating, the male and female will spend time rolling around each other, before flying upwards and crossing the surface. As they cross the surface, "the male will thrust his penis into the vulva and ejaculates" (University of Wisconsin, 2012).

In the middle of the ocean

Jeanne always hated having to act prim and proper. On the surface, she would put on the demeanour of a pure and innocent holy maiden, but when she is alone, she would often indulge in self-pleasure.

Ever since she became the Holy Maiden of the Sea, it has become an annual tradition for Jeanne to meet up with Reece and Scrooge. She provided them with love and comfort, in return, they provided her with the sexual release that she desired, that she craved, that she needed.

A loud roaring sound could be heard as a blue whale emerged from the sea.

"Oh Scrooge, I have missed you and your long enormous cock so much! Come on and devour me, you naughty boy!" If anyone were there, they would have not believed that the Holy Maiden of Salvation would be lying on a raft, in a seductive position, fingering her own vagina and saying such sexual things.

The blue whale roared as water sprayed out of his blowhole. "Someone's excited! Come on Scrooge, let us not wait around and fuck me already!" Jeanne screamed as the blue whale approached the small and petite Jeanne lying on the tiny raft. As Scrooge approached the raft, the shadow of a 3m penis could be seen emerging from his genital slit, covering the entire raft.

Back in the room with Gudao and Jalter

"Finally! We are done with these!" I shouted as I slammed the last piece of doujin onto the ground. "I can finally head out to the beach and enjoy myself!"

I should have been at the beach enjoying myself, soaking the warm sun and enjoying the waves. But instead, for the past few hours, I have been stuck in this crammed room helping Jalter with her work. I even had to give up the chance of hanging out with Jeanne and Reece.

"We could have finished this an hour ago if someone had not fallen asleep on my lap." Jalter shouted from the couch that was covered with piles of paper, while scrolling through her phone.

"While at least I don't droo…." A pillow slammed into the face, interrupting me mid-sentence. Throwing the pillow back at Jalter, I retorted "At least, I don't sit around and used my phone all day."

"Ya, whatever," Jalter shrugged both the thrown pillow and my remarks off. "But at least I found this meme about that holy saint." My eyes lit up with interests as soon as I heard that. "You can't just say something like that and not show me!" I rushed towards Jalter and tried to grab her phone. Jalter immediately kicked me on the face in response. "Stop trying to snatch my phone, you pathetic Master. Alright, I will show you before you destroy my phone."

Jalter pulled back her leg and showed her phone to me. "This one here. The one that they compared that holy saint to a blue whale."

The picture on the phone read "Did you know that the Maid of Orleans, Jeanne d'Arc, is 159cm in height. But Blue Whale's penis is about 2.4-3.0m in length, which is almost twice of her height"

"Oh, and this one here"

The next picture read "Did you know that the maiden of orleans, Jeanne d'Arc, weighed 44 kilos. In contrast, a blue whale can ejaculate around 1500 litres of semen"

"What the fuck Jalter?! What the fuck did I just read?! What am I even supposed to do with that information?!"

"It is a meme, idiot. You are not supposed to do anything with it." Jalter continued to use her phone amidst my confused and panicked screaming. "Only a degenerate would draw or write anything based on this information, which I hope you are not"

"I guess you are right, there is no chance Jeanne would associate herself with whale penis and whale semen. I know, I shall find Jeanne and tell her…."

"Hahahaha," A crackling laughter could be heard coming from Jalter. "Ya, you tell her about whale penis and whale semen. I cannot wait for her to look at you with eyes of contempt and disgust."

"Well, Jeanne isn't like you, you big tsundere of a witch…" As soon as those words come out of my mouth, Jalter snapped and started throwing pillows at me. I quickly ran out of the room with Jalter chasing after me with murderous eyes. "You little shit, I am so going to kill you!"

"Jeanne! Save me!"

Meanwhile in the middle of the ocean

"Yes Scrooge! Fuck me! Pump it into my pussy!" The Maid of Orléans moaned loudly as the blue whale positioned his 3m penis near her vagina. "Come on Scrooge! Give it…" Jeanne's words were interrupted with loud moans of pleasure as the blue whale penis began to insert slowly into her vagina. The force from the whale's penis caused Jeanne' bikini bottom to snapped and hanged off her body.

"Ahhh… Hyahhh…" Screams and moans of pleasure could be heard emitting from the mouth of the Holy Maiden. A rush of satisfaction and joy had washed over her. Her mind was lost to the pleasure derived from the penetration of the blue whale's penis into her vagina.

Since Jeanne's vagina could barely fit the tip of Scrooge's penis, any movement made by Scrooge resulted in Jeanne erupting into moans of pleasure. "Yessss… Fuck me…. Deeper… Scrooge…" Uncontrollable moans filled the air as Jeanne gripped tightly to the side of the raft while her vagina was being ravaged by a 3m blue whale's penis.

"Arghhhhh!"

Jeanne erupted into orgasmic pleasure as she ejaculated all over Scrooge's penis. Her fluid sprayed all over the blue whale's penis that was still inside her. As she laid on the raft panting, Scrooge continued to move his penis, which caused Jeanne to resume moaning and screaming.

"Ahhhh…. Scrooge… Stop… Ahhh… Give me… a break…" Jeanne tried to get Scrooge to slow down amidst all her moans and screams. But it is to no avail. The horny blue whale ignored her pleas and continued pumping into her vagina.

"Hyahhhhh!"

Jeanne screamed in pleasure as she ejaculated again all over the large rod penetrating her. She laid on the raft, paralysed, her mind long broken by the pleasure she experienced. Her facial expression was something unbecoming of a holy saint. She had been fucked senseless by the blue whale that was still penetrating her. Although she was unable to move her body consciously, her lower half continued to twitch and vibrate with every movement and every pump that Scrooge made.

As her body prepared for her third consecutive orgasm, Scrooge started to roar loudly, and water began to sprout out of his blowhole. The 3m penis started vibrating and a wave of semen began to shoot out of it into Jeanne's vagina.

At the same moment that Jeanne erupted into her third ejaculation, her vagina was engulfed by a sea of whale semen. As Scrooge starts to retract his penis back, whale semen continued to shoot out of it, eventually covering the Holy Maiden and the raft. Traces of whale semen sprayed onto her blue hoodie and black bikini.

There lies the Maid of Orléans, Holy Maiden of Salvation on a tiny raft, swimsuit torn and tattered, covered with whale semen, with a mixture of her own fluid and whale cum leaking out of her vagina.

Scrooge roared loudly and started diving back into the sea. As he did, he created a wave that started sending the mind-broken Jeanne back into the shore.

A few moments ago, at the beach

"Oh look, a whale!" "You hardly see one of those around, especially when it is not whale season."

I was at the beach, busy looking around for Jeanne, when a water sprout could be seen in the ocean. Most of the Servants were captivated by what seem to be a whale.

"Have anyone seen Jeanne anywhere? I am looking for her."

"Jeanne? I spotted her heading there." Musashi pointed to the far side of the beach. "She might be chilling with her dolphin."

"Thanks so much!" I thanked Musashi as I quickly headed towards the far side of the beach. But I was not prepared for the scene that would soon be presented in front of me.

Far side of the beach

"Jeanne! Jeanne!"

I shouted for Jeanne while walking towards the far side of the beach. "Where did Jeanne go?" I thought to myself as I had not seen a single soul on my way there.

Nearing the end of the beach, I spotted something white floating along the shoreline. Curiosity got the better of me as I ran towards the white unknown thing, hoping to find out what it is. If only I was not that curious, if only I had given up on finding Jeanne, then I would not have to face the terrible truth that I was able to witness.

"What in the world…" The white thing has a humanoid shape and it looked to be wearing a swimsuit. I inched closer to it, hoping to figure out what it is…

"What?! Noo… No…. Why…." I finally figured out what the white humanoid thing and as soon as I did, I fallen to my knees in despair. I could not believe my own eyes at the very sight that was displayed in front of me.

The sweet innocent Jeanne d' Arc, swimsuit torn and tattered, with her bikini just hanging off her body. The Holy Maiden of Salvation Jeanne d' Arc, covered in white gooey fluid, and fluid oozing out of her lower regions. The Maid of Orléans Jeanne d' Arc, with a face of euphoria as if she had been fucked senseless.

"… …" I was speechless and I had no idea how to react anymore. I sat on the beach, staring at the atrocity that was lying in front of me, unable to process anything or do anything. I just sat there, paralysed by the sight that was in front of me.

"… … Oh… Master… You are here…"

After what felt like forever, Jeanne finally spoke. "How… do I look? Guess… you finally… see my true self…" Jeanne calmly sat back up and started cleaning the white gooey fluid that was lingering on her body. To my horror, she started to lick the fluid that had covered her hands and face.

"… Yes Master… I am a naughty saint… I am not your innocent good girl… I love cocks… and love being fucked in my pussy…"

I could not believe the words coming out from Jeanne's mouth. The person sitting on the beach in front of me was an entirely different person that had fought together with me, that had laughed together with me, that had cried together with me.

"Oh… Are you thinking about this fluid? It is Scrooge's cum…" I stared at her with a face of disbelief. "You know… Scrooge… my blue whale? Ya… this is his cum…" Jeanne continued to explain while fingering out some of the fluid oozing out of her vagina and licking it seductively. "I don't know why you are surprised… Did you not read my skills? A constant supply of mana near the sea? It comes from this… I had to get mana transfer somewhere…"

It was pure torture hearing those words, and it was even more painful seeing the sweet and holy Jeanne fingering herself and licking the fluid off her hands. I wanted to run away, but I don't know whether it is curiosity or fear, I was rooted to the ground, unable to escape from the horror that was in front of me.

"Uhm… Jeanne… Does the rest…" I tried to force some words out of my mouth to break the silence between me and Jeanne.

"Does the rest know? Of course not, you silly Master." Jeanne suddenly crawled towards me and placed her fluid-stained finger in my lips. "This is a secret between you and me, not even Jalter knows about this."

"I know! Let us make a deal!" Before I could even ask what she meant by that, she had already leaned onto and kissed me on the lips.

"Noo… Jeanne… Please… Stop…" I tried to struggle and break free from her, but the horny saint just gripped tightly onto my face and continued to kiss me aggressively. All I could taste was her cum-stained mouth and tongue. I could not escape. Somebody please save me from this nightmare.

"With this… this entire thing will be our dirty… little… secret." After what felt like an eternity, Jeanne finally let go of me. "If you are cooperative, I might even let… you… fuck… me…" Jeanne began to touch and finger herself at her vagina. Sensual moans began to emit from her mouth.

At that point, I could not take it anymore. I fumbled myself away from her, and began to lifelessly walk back towards the main beach. As I silently walked back, I was haunted by her final words…

"Remember… Ahh… Master… This… Hyahh… is our… Hahh.. dirty… little… secret…"

End.

Author's Notes:

So… uhm… Thanks for reading. This is the first ever fanfiction that I have written so some parts might have sound weird. I would not have imagined that I would research and write about this type of content. (What am I even doing with my life).

If you were wondering, yes, this was based on the actual Jeanne-blue whale meme. Thanks to the wonderful people at citov4810 (Instagram) for "motivating" me to think of such a story. In case you were wondering about the format of the story, the original plan was to make a doujin, but since I am bad at art, I reckon I would write out a story first, so that it will make it easier when adapting into a doujin. (It would not be anytime soon)

Oh, but I might write a sequel involving Musashi and Jalter in the future (since I mentioned both of them in the story). Hopefully, those would not involve any whales or dolphins.

Please give some feedback and of course, you are always welcome to create fan art based on this (I know some of you horny artists are reading this). And if there is a talented or experienced doujin artists reading this, you are always welcomed to make a doujin based on this. I would love to see the type of degenerate content people might create.

No dolphins or whales were harmed in the writing of this story. This story is a work of fiction. And please do not fuck a dolphin or a whale.

References:

Butter-T [@Butter_T]. (2020, July 19). Knowledge Time. Did you know that the Maid of Orléans, Jeanne d'Arc, is 159 cm in height. But Blue Whale's [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/butter_t/status/1284788510407356416

Citov4810 [@citov4810]. (2021, June 5). [Meme]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/CPuz8vZhhG8/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Dolphin Communication Project. (2014). Top 5 Dolphin Myths - Dispelled!. https://www.dolphincommunicationproject.org/index.php/2014-10-21-00-13-26/dolphin-science-factoids/item/94358-top-5-dolphin-myths-dispelled

Howard, C. J. (2009). Dolphin Chronicles: One Woman's Quest to Understand the Sea's Most Mysterious Creatures. Bantam.

Jay [@highonthighs]. (2018, July 30). Did you know the maiden of orleans, Jeanne d'Arc, weighed 44 kilos. In contrast, a blue whale can ejaculate around [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/highonthighs/status/1023747660027752448

Jeanne d'Arc. (2021, June 13). In Fate/Grand Order Wiki. https://fategrandorder.fandom.com/wiki/Jeanne_d%27Arc?oldid=953090

Jeanne d'Arc (Archer). (2021, June 14). In Fate/Grand Order Wiki. https://fategrandorder.fandom.com/wiki/Jeanne_d%27Arc_(Archer)?oldid=953914

Jeanne d'Arc (Ruler). (2021, May 10). In TYPE-MOON Wiki. https://typemoon.fandom.com/wiki/Jeanne_d%27Arc_(Ruler)?oldid=195455

Lunau, K. (2017, October 11). Scientists Inflated Dead Dolphin Dicks to Simulate Cetacean Sex. VICE. https://www.vice.com/en/article/j5gzqg/cetacean-reproduction-sex-dolphins-seals-dalhousie-university-science

Orbach, D. (2017, April 23). An intimate look at the mechanics of dolphin sex. EurekAlert!. https://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2017-04/eb2-ail041217.php

University of Wisconsin. (2012). Blue Whale Reproduction. Balaenoptera musculus. http://bioweb.uwlax.edu/bio203/s2012/olson_rile/reproduction.htm

Whales Online. (n.d.). Reproduction. Whales Online A Gremm Project. https://baleinesendirect.org/en/discover/life-of-whales/behaviour/reproduction/

Whales Online. (n.d.). Reproduction System. Whales Online A Gremm Project. https://baleinesendirect.org/en/discover/life-of-whales/physiology/reproductive-system/

Wetzel, C. (2020, November 17). Nine of the Weirdest Penises in the Animal Kingdom. Smithsonian Magazine. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/nine-weirdest-penises-animal-kingdom-180976274/

#degenerate #fanfiction #fan fic smut #fanfic #fan fiction #fate grand order #fgo oc #fgo stuff #fgo smut #fgo fate grand order #jeanne d'arc #smut

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Text

Recommendations (Hidden Corner series)

Hidden Corner: A series of fluffy, full-length one-shots detailing the lives of the employees who work at Hidden Corner featuring the various Haikyuu boys.

*Note: All one-shots take place in the same universe with the same characters.

AN: Reposting if you saw this earlier because it wasn’t showing up in the tags. 🤞 four times a charm?

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Student!Akaashi x female Cafe-Owner!reader

Genre: fluff!

Summary: After getting tired of his usual black coffee, Akaashi checks out the cafe down the street which is home to some of the more unorthodox and unique drinks. Needless to say, he takes all the help that he can get.

Masterlist | Menu

Recommendations

Akaashi entered the quaint cafe, eyes scanning the interior. It was cute to say the least. It looked like any other pearl tea shop if Akaashi was being honest. He stepped further into the cafe, getting into the rather short line. Despite being only a ten-minute walk from campus, the cafe surprisingly wasn’t too busy. Only two out of the dozen tables had occupants. Kuroo had recommended this cafe, citing that it was the home of incredible - albeit somewhat unorthodox - drinks.

“Don’t you ever get bored of getting the same thing?” Kuroo asked, glancing over at his friend. They were sitting at the university cafe. Kuroo was sipping on an espresso macchiato whereas Akaashi was drinking a simple black coffee.

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, barely sparing the male a glance as he continued to proof-read his essay. “Why are you asking if you get the same thing every time we come here?”

Kuroo snorted. “Only when we come here.” He took another sip of his drink. “There’s this real nice place a few blocks away. You should go there sometime.”

“Why’s that?”

“The drinks are a bit...unusual, but they somehow end up being exactly what you need.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I go there a few times a week.” Kuroo clapped a hand on the younger male’s back. “I highly recommend it.”

Gunmetal blue scanned the menu, confusion filling his features. The sheer variety was overwhelming for the male. How on Earth is he going to find something that fulfills needs that he didn’t even know he had? Maybe he should just get his normal black coffee after all.

“First time?”

He jumped, looking over his shoulder. He offered you a soft smile. “Yes, my friend recommended this shop.”

“Welcome to Hidden Corner. A mini-paradise from the hustle and bustle of the world,” you giggle.

Akaashi nodded. “Thank you.”

“What brings you here?”

Akaashi steps forward as the next customer goes to order. “I wanted to try something new, but,” he gestures to the menu, “I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

You scan his features, eyes narrowed in a slight squint. “Ask for a spiced citrus coffee. I think you’d like it.” He raises an eyebrow before nodding. He was relieved that he didn’t have to think about his purchase any longer. As he orders his coffee, he could see you rocking on the balls of your feet, anticipation evident in your feature. Akaashi steps to the side, waiting patiently for his drink. “Surprise me, Yuuji,” you grin at the barista who did a two-finger salute before taking the cute panda mug you handed him.

“Anything for you, (Name).”

As you pay, a different barista hands him his drink. He carefully takes a sip, his eyes widening at the flavor. Turning to face you, you’re already setting up your books at the counter. Akaashi steps towards you, hesitation filling him. “How did you know?”

You look up at him, smiling. “How did I know you’d like it?” Akaashi nods, taking another sip. The scent overwhelmed his senses, a warm fuzzy feeling filling him. “You just seemed tired, and that drink is one of my favorites to brighten up my day. Tastes like Christmas, doesn’t it?”

At the sentiment, Akaashi smiles. “Yes it does.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Yuuji hands you your drink. “Thanks Yuuji.” You look over your shoulder at Akaashi once more. “Bring your own mug next time. They give discounts.” You sip your drink thoughtfully. “Oh! And make sure it’s ceramic.”

****

The door chimes as Akaashi stepped in, shaking his umbrella slightly before placing it into the umbrella stand. He shook his head, lowering the hood of his raincoat. As he wiped his boots onto the mat, he was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face behind the counter this time instead of in front. “Oh you’re back!” You greeted him with a warm smile.

“Yes I am. Hello (Name)-san,” he returned your smile. “That drink you gave me last time worked like a charm.”

“I bet,” you chirped. Your (e/c) eyes scanned him. “You look like you need a pomegranate cold brew,” you decide. “Is that alright?” Akaashi bit his lip, carefully thinking about it. It was obvious that here, you were the expert. He gave you a curt nod, handing over his ceramic mug.

“Alright, sure.” You grin before you turn around, making your way to a coffee pot. He noticed that there was over half of the pot remaining. Akaashi took a seat at the bar, watching the process. “Why pomegranate?” He inquired, raising an eyebrow at you as you carefully pour the drink into the mug.

“You’re a student right?” Akaashi nodded, brow furrowed. “Pomegranate helps improve your memory if drunk regularly. It’s also vitamin-rich so it promotes things like eye health, skincare, and helps to support your immune system.” You placed the mug onto a plate, handing it to the male with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure that you’re busy from all your work, so it doesn’t hurt to get a little boost every now and then.”

He hums, taking a sip. His gunmetal blue eyes widened. “This is an unusual drink, but it is delicious. Thank you for your recommendation.”

You wave your hand nonchalantly. “It’s the least I could do for a return customer,” you smile. “Can’t have you getting sick so close to finals.”

You both look outside at the rain that poured down, the ambient piano soothing. “No, we can’t have that,” he replied. “Have a nice day.”

“You too!”

****

“Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes slightly. He didn’t know why, but he had found his feet leading to this small cafe. It had been an excruciatingly long week. Project after project with exams drizzled in led to many late nights and early mornings. To top it all, he hadn’t done so well in one of his most important projects.

“Need a pick-me-up?” you offer sympathetically, scanning his face. You could see the hint of stress wrinkles on his forehead as he blinked at you with blue eyes laden with dark, purple eye-bags.

He slumps into the bar-stool, nodding glumly. “Please.” Akaashi buries his face into his arms, leaving his ceramic mug onto the counter as he closes his eyes. Behind the counter, you turn on a small stove combining milk, chocolate syrup and brown sugar. You hum a gentle tune as you work. Akaashi lets out a sigh of comfort. The smell of coffee beans and the sound of your voice was soothing to his weary soul.

He was woken from his stupor by the sound of the mug being placed down. “I hope you enjoy it. Made it special for you.”

Blurry eyes look up at you, blinking his sleepiness away. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he sits up. Taking the mug in both hands, the warmth seeped through his cold clammy hands. Akaashi sipped the drink, letting the wave of cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate overwhelm his features. His muscles relax as he lets out a sigh of relief. “How do you do it?”

You’re carefully wiping the counter. “Do what?”

“How do you know what drink would be perfect every time?”

You just offer him a smile. “When you work at a cafe for so long, you come to read and know your customers quite well. Regular or not.”

At your words, Akaashi understands why Kuroo frequents this shop so much. The love and care put into every drink, the dedication you gave to providing the best experience. It was ridiculous to think that this cafe wasn’t busy. He takes another sip, savoring the warmth that spread through his body. ‘A mini-paradise’, you had called it the first time he’d met you. Yes, indeed.

****

“Studying today?”

You glance up from your books, offering the male a soft smile. “Of course. It is exam season after all.” You gesture to the empty seat in front of you. “Please, take a seat.” Akaashi gave you a small smile before slipping into the seat, letting his bag fall to the side. You stood up, throwing an apron on as you made your way behind the counter. His blue eyes scan the books on the table, picking out a few psychology books amongst the titles. The sound of your feet shuffling brings his attention back up to you. “Being nosy?”

Akaashi gives you a wry smile, “a little bit.” You place a plate of warmed chocolate croissants down along with a pink drink. He raises his eyebrows at the drink. “Why is it pink?”

“I used a little bit of food colouring,” you smile. “It’s a rose coffee drink. It’s a bit lighter than the other drinks I’ve recommended, but it’s fragrant and is perfect for the weather.” You both look out to the bright spring sun.

“I see.” Akaashi looked down at the drink, smiling as he watched the rose petals float along the surface. “And the croissants?”

You shrug. “A good study snack. Don’t tell me you turn down free food and coffee,” you tease, (e/c) eyes find his. He just chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Please, feel free to study with me.”

“Was that not why you invited me to sit with you?”

You laugh, nodding. “You’re right.” He takes a careful sip of his drink, letting his eyes flutter shut as he takes in the flavour. It wasn’t too sweet or too bitter. “So how is it?”

“Excellent as always, (Name)-san.”

You snort, “Of course it is. Though I hardly think that I’m older than you.” Pausing, your nose crinkles. “Y’know, I don’t think I know your name. My apologies.”

Akaashi shakes his head giving you a soft smile. “I don’t think I had an opportunity to tell you.” He extends a hand to you, “I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“(L.Name, Name).” You guys shake hands. He was pleasantly surprised to find that your hand was quite soft. Akaashi brings out his laptop, delicately placing it in front of him so that he could start his research paper revisions.

“So do you just work here?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I’m actually the owner.”

“His eyes widened. “The owner? You’re quite young to own this cafe.”

You shrug, taking a sip from your own mug. Akaashi stifles a chuckle at the design. It was a panda wearing a barista apron holding its own mug of coffee. A cloud bubble above the panda read ‘Life happens but coffee helps’. Akaashi raises his eyes to meet yours steadily. “My parents owned the cafe and passed it along to me when they got too tired of managing it. Think they’re somewhere in Europe by now.”

“Isn’t it difficult?”

“What is?”

Akaashi scans the interior, wondering which parts of it came from you and which part came from your parents’ influence. “Managing the cafe and school-work.”

You chuckle, giving him a small smile. “It was at first,” you admit. “But I practically grew up in the cafe, so my parents taught me how to do so at the beginning.”

Akaashi pulls out his padfolio, searching through it for his notes. “You know something?”

You hum in response, already looking back down at your textbooks. “Yes?”

“I would love to learn how to read people like you do.” Leaning back in your seat, you take one of the croissants and bite into it, gently pushing the plate towards him. “I used to have a friend,” he picks up a croissant examining it, “who I could easily motivate to get out of his…‘emo’ moods. But I still find it difficult to read people.” He flicks through notes from one of his classes, taking a bite out of the pastry. “Not all people are as easy to read, unfortunately. Not compared to books, anyways.”

You chuckle, shaking your head lightly as you brush off the crumbs from your fingers. “No, they aren’t.” Clearing your throat, you offer him a smile. “So, wanna learn how to read people like me?”

“That’d be nice.”

“So, would that be a date then?” You smirk.

Red roses bloom in his cheeks. “If you want it to be.”

“I suppose you’d be a good test subject for my drinks,” you tease.

Akaashi chuckles. “As long as you’re the one making it, I’d try anything.”

AN: All of the drinks are inspired by real recipes!

All one-shots in the Hidden Corner series exist in the same universe where characters may interact with the ‘Reader’ from the other one-shots. I will be giving each ‘Reader’ a place-holder name when they are referenced in the other one-shots to ease confusion!

This will be a side-project, so new updates will generally not be scheduled!

general taglist: @scrappydaisies @agaassi @newfriendjen

Please contact me if you would like to be a part of the Hidden Corner taglist! 💞 Check out this link for information about my taglists.

#akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji fluff #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #haikyuu Au #hq au #haikyuu cafe AU #hq cafe aU #keiji akaashi #keiji akaashi fluff

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nightwingmyboi · 4 years

Note

I'll always remember Devin Grayson as the woman who wrote Nightwing getting raped by a supervillain and then tried to pass it off as "wasn't rape, just nonconsensual"...which is LITERALLY THE DEFINITION OF RAPE, YOU HACK!

MSL: Male rape is a topic rarely touched on in comics. Why is it suited to bring it into Nightwing?

DEVIN GRAYSON: For the record, I’ve never used the word “rape,” I just said it was nonconsensual (I know, aren’t writers frustrating? *smiles*) [x]

Yeah there is no other word for what happened in Nightwing #93 other than rape...I can’t imagine why she would say otherwise. She did technically apologize, but that was ten or so years later. So she eventually, finally did come out and just admit what everyone already knew, but she was still way too late to actually fix any of the damage she caused with how she completely mishandled things. I also don’t think her little apology begins to cover all the issues I have with her.

Devin’s characterization of Dick is just so, so freaking twisted to me. Really, I don’t think there is a Nightwing writer I despise more than Devin Grayson. The interviews I’ve read from her give me the creeps:

DG: The way I think about him [Dick], he likes everyone, he’s sort of a contact junkie - just this incredibly physical (and attractive) person who lives wholly in the corporeal plane and responds with - processes things in - his body before his head or heart. I imagine that he can be hypnotized by a touch the way other people can be stopped dead in their tracks by the sight of money or the promise of true love. I think he likes kicking and kissing in almost equal measure - except kissing edges out ahead because you can do it for longer and it leads to nicer things. [x]

Yeah that’s fucking unsettling. This is Devin being gross and projecting her sexual fantasy’s onto Dick. And she very much invented this extreme view of Dick as obsessively physical. Pre-52 Dick was always written as a master strategist, an unparalleled leader, one of the best detectives in the world, outside of Devin’s writing. Her fantasy version of Dick doesn’t mesh with that...Dick wouldn’t be capable leader if he’s “thinking with his body” (whatever that means) all the time. He’s survived this long because he’s intelligent and logical. Frankly, Devin’s take on things doesn’t even make any freaking sense. But it gets worse:

DDG: I’m writing a novel for WB right now that he’s in and I have one scene where Batman has to stop a fight before it gets out of control, and most of the people he can just yell or glare at, but with Dick, he just stands really close behind him and Dick freezes. That’s not supposed to be a sexual thing (though it is kinda hot! ::laughs::), it’s an understanding on Bruce’s part that his physical proximity will speak just as quickly and loudly to Dick as his voice, maybe even be processed faster.

What the actual fuck. You’ve probably guessed it based on how that little scenario played out. Devin ships Dick with Bruce.

DG: And now think about being a very physical and naturally gregarious and loving person and growing up with someone like Bruce. Then add in the confusion about his status - a “ward” is something you stop being the minute you turn eighteen. Having already lost his parents and then hurling into adolescence at the speed he did...in my personal version of the story, he develops sexual desire and social anxiety about the future at the same time, and this leads to tremendous confusion, on his part, about his role in Bruce’s life. He can’t be a ward forever, in the back of his head he knows he won’t be Robin forever...what is he to this man who is at once his best friend and personal savior, personal god? “Son” is what they eventually settle on, but I think when Dick was in his late teens, the idea of “lover” must have run through his mind (which means, really, as we’ve already discussed, it ran through his body).

Wild that Dick is usually written as incredibly intelligent and emotionally cognizant (was able to puzzle out Damian’s complex motivations and needs when no one else in Damian’s life could for example) and yet Devin thinks he’s not able to sort out that he’s not supposed to make sexual advances towards his father. And by wild I mean stupid as fuck. And, just fyi, Devin goes with the version of events where Bruce took Dick in when he was eight years old! So he’s pretty fucking young when this is all happening! Just when you thought it couldn’t get more disgusting.

Eventually, much later, Dick gets distracted by other relationships and is able to ease up enough on Bruce for Bruce to relax into his own comfort-level of kindness and affection again (once the threat of sexuality has been removed) and they carry on more or less unharmed. But the relationship remains incredibly powerful and intense for Dick, who ends up feeling apologetic, rejected, and confused on top of all the other issues we already know exist between the two of them. Dick responds to Bruce - or really I should say Batman, since that’s who his relationship is with - on every single level.

So, according to Devin, Dick views Bruce as his “personal god” and is incredibly submissive to and possessive of him. That’s why Devin’s writing is littered with scenes like this:

Gotham Knights #17

Where Dick acts incredibly awkward and “apologetic” about dating Barbara, because of how he previously made sexual advances towards Bruce in Devin’s fantasy world. Also with Devin, Dick spends a lot of his time stuttering every time Bruce is in the room, even though he’s usually a smooth talker, very chatty, and that’s because of the supposed “intensity” of Bruce and Dick’s relationship. And then there are scenes like this:

Gotham Knights #18

Where Dick uncharacteristically and disproportionately loses his cool at the slightest insinuation against Bruce and is reduced to an angry hot head. Dick has been noted to be incredibly level headed; he’s also famous for being a mediator among the hero community...this behavior is a complete departure from the way he would normally act under other writers. Dick’s also been one to level plenty of criticisms towards Bruce himself. This sudden personality change where Dick thinks Bruce can do no wrong, where no one can criticize Bruce in Dick’s presence without him absolutely blowing up, where he suddenly can’t control his emotions over the littlest things...it really exists primarily in Devin’s writing. It’s incredibly OOC behavior and it’s rooted in Devin’s sexual fantasies frankly.

Devin’s writing is also where Dick, despite being incredibly dedicated and monogamous in all of his previous relationships, suddenly became a womanizer. Literally, everyone was written as wanting to get into Dick’s pants: Rose Wilson was reduced to a giddy teenager because of Dick, random women in the streets would comment on how cute Nightwing was, a mob boss’s daughter who was only 15 years old was obsessed with Dick and made advances, Dick had a one night stand with Huntress because she reminded him of Bruce, Bruce called Dick “Hunk Wonder,” Dick undressed in front of fucking Deathstroke (and there was a newspaper with “Richard Wilson” on it as a sly little wink towards the audience), psycho vigilante Tarantula is obsessed with Dick to the point of raping him, the list goes on. If you want more samplings of how freaking disgusting and sex-obsessed Devin was when it came to Dick, look no further than her gross Inheritance book, where she ships Dick with everyone from Green Arrow to Aquaman (here are some quotes if you’re a masochist). And since Dick “thinks with his body” or whatever, Devin’d write him as receptive (or very oblivious) when it comes to this attention.

Gotham Knights #10

Nightwing (1996) #107

Another thing that made me extremely uncomfortable is how Devin would always have strangers and villains, especially older men--people who Dick very much did not know and wouldn’t appreciate being in his personal space--be all grabby with him. Please leave him alone.

Nightwing and Huntress #2

There Dick is, “hypnotized” in place by Huntress’s touch. Kill me. It is also especially messed up that Devin suddenly turned Dick into some sexual, warm-blooded hot head at the same time as she decided to introduce him as Romani.

Q: How could him being Romani be used to inform his characterization?

It reinforces his “otherness” where Bruce is concerned in what I think is a useful, interesting way...It also presents the opportunity for there to be a slight chip on his shoulder, which maybe speaks to his scrappiness. It also maybe gives him a slightly deeper way to relate to someone like Helena--someone who is white but other--and gives the people who love (or lust after) him a potential cultural excuse for feeling as bewitched as they sometimes do. I also just love the idea of Bruce occasionally calling him “hot blooded” just to mess with him, because Dick would of course deny being so in an extremely hot-blooded manner. [x]

Her feeding into the fetishizing of biracial individuals is just disgusting and wrong. If there’s a racist stereotype available Devin really goes out of her way to make sure she includes it in her writing huh.

Gotham Knights #20

And Bruce being a racist jerk is not charming Devin, it’s terrible. Barbara used slurs also, and was very dismissive of Dick’s reaction to Bruce’s actions...that was also horrible. It’s awful that Dick’s own family would apparently treat him this way. Obviously, Dick isn’t the only one that Devin would write out of character.

It’s all just so messed up to me, I can’t stand it. When I first read her comics, even when it wasn’t blatant like above, I would feel something subtly off...and once I read her interviews I can’t help but notice these horrible underlying insinuations in all of her work, in so many seemingly “innocent” scenes. There are a lot of big things she’s known for (her horrible treatment of Dick’s Romani heritage and his rape for example) but all these subtle, insidious little details that people don’t even really register...they are equally frustrating to me. Seeing sects of the fandom pick up these details (like, the idea that Dick doesn’t understand personal boundaries, the idea that he’s a hot head, the idea that he’s a womanizer, etc.) when I know a lot of it stems nearly solely from Devin’s crappy characterization and writing of Dick...it’s hard.

Q: Further to that, if Dick is gay, what kind of guy is his type?

DG: ...Type isn’t as important as passion and opportunity. Because of his psycho-sexual makeup, the other key factor would be a sense that he means something to that other man, that his “surrender” is making that man happy, allowing him to bring pleasure to someone (as he was never allowed to do for Bruce). There’s also a sense, if I may be so bold, of needing to be “caught” and “held down” - this going back to the trauma of losing his parents...being strong and passionate and heroic and virile and loving with a woman is fantastic, he lives for that. But he lost both parents. There is also a part of him that longs to be pinned down and loved a little bit savagely and hurt just enough to reassure him that he’s alive. Man, I’m totally gonna get fired when this comes out....

Literally makes me want to barf. That is supposed to be a professional, official writer at DC. Could go on forever.

#devin grayson #imma go vomit now #ask #nightwing #dick grayson #batman #rape #rape cw #comics #DC comics #character analysis #characterization #negative

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

Jungle Park [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 15.5 OR Chapter 16

➜ Words: 5.6k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

“The work you do going forward will not only affect you, but the lives of the people all around you. From your law partners to your clients…” The speaker at the front drones and on and on, his voice booming around the grandiose courtroom. You imagine a wedding ceremony could take place here or a nationwide criminal court case that you often see in the movies. Jungkook is sitting dead center in the crowd of other articling students, wearing gorgeous black silk robes with a white shirt underneath it. “The most important advice I can gift to you today is to enjoy the journey and not just the destination. You will find in your life that often times—” His parents are sitting in the front rows, beaming with pride while his older brother is snapping a million photos with his giant Canon camera, embarrassing Jungkook and making him all the more bashful. The entire firm is sitting behind them, watching and proud that the little student was finally being called to the bar. The judge speaks quietly, calm and composed as he delivers a few jokes here and there while making his own inspirational speech. You listen in before leaning over to Hoseok and lowly whispering, “Is there something on my face?” “No.” His brows furrow and he takes a glance at you. “Why?” “I don’t know. You’re the one who keeps looking at me,” you murmur at a barely coherent volume. “Is there something wrong?” Hoseok sits straight, leaning back on the hard bench and scanning the premise to see if anyone has noticed. “No, no. It’s fine.” The lawyer brushes you off and you have no choice, but to disregard it like it was part of your imagination. The ceremony continues and everyone watches until the kids stand up together, turning towards the woman who reads the official oath from the open book. Her hand is held in the air and as she reads line by line, the crowd of almost-lawyers repeating after her, being sworn in as they promise to uphold the dignity of the law to the best of their abilities. As it ends, there’s a massive round of applause and you see Jungkook emerging from the horde to land in his mother’s arms, hugging the older woman while she tells him how proud she is. It’s an endearing sight, especially when his dad gives him a bouquet of flowers to congratulate him and he has tears in his eyes which his brother makes fun of. “Congratulations, Kook!” Jimin takes five strides outside of the building, walking against the flow of people leaving to smother Jungkook in a hug, even when the younger is larger in built. “I can’t believe our little Jungkook has finally made it!” Sunyi smiles softly, catching the eye of a few other older lawyers who pass by. She’s wearing a bright yellow sundress that is reminiscent of sunflowers, having gone to a garden party with her grandma before rushing over here and making it on time. Yoongi seems to notice the prying eyes of strangers and stands in the way, blocking her from other people being able to ogle. “I’m so proud!” Taehyung declares in the meanwhile, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffling dramatically. “I feel like a father who just watched his son grow up.” Jungkook laughs, his nose scrunched and his cute bunny teeth showing in his grin. “You’re not my dad.” “Does this mean we can give him the Yoo case file?” Yoongi suggests in a light voice, lifting his volume to be louder than the noise coming from the different crowds. “I hope you’re ready, Jungkook.” Naul grips the strap of her bag, closed toe heels stepping together. “You’re going to be in court on Monday by yourself arguing for our client.” Immediately, the boy’s smile falls. His doe eyes widen as large as saucers, features contorting into blatant fear. Jimin nearly falls onto his knees in laughter. “Give him a break! He’ll go on Tuesday.” But that still does little to comfort the new lawyer. “T-T-...Tuesday?” “Don’t tease the poor kid!” You step in with a laugh, saving the day before he can have a mental breakdown. “Come on, we can talk about this later. We should get back to the office.” “Everyone, listen to Y/N. She’s the boss now.” Jimin announces with a smile and the entire firm walks off not to crowd up the entrance and block people from exiting. Jungkook’s parents and brother join as well, but you shift around slightly when you notice that he and Hoseok linger. “Good job, Jungkook.” Hoseok wraps his arms around the younger’s shoulder, hugging and squeezing him while swaying side to the side. The boy blinks a few times before melting into a sheepish smile. “Thanks.” Hoseok plants a fat kiss on his head, on top of his hair, and Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise, moving back to avoid further smooches. Hoseok laughs and you smile before turning away. // The party is rather modest and much less chaotic than the end-of-the-year holiday celebration, but there’s still catering and everyone is able to get a nice lunch. Music plays in the back while people mingle together, but the main attraction seems to be the slideshow of Jungkook from when he was a baby until now. You’re glad Jimin insisted on making it and that you contracted his parents to find the photos. It warms your heart and he’s downright adorable. You feel proud that he came such a long way. “You were so cute as a toddler.” He’s shy and flustered, scratching the back of his head. “Thanks.” “I was going to get you a bouquet of flowers too, but I didn’t know what you would do with them.” “It’s okay. All of this is more than enough.” “At least let me treat you to a meal some time, okay?” you insist, feeling way too guilty when it seemed like everyone else had some sort of present for him. “It’s my way of saying congratulations.” Jungkook nods with a bright grin. “Okay.” It doesn’t take a single second later before Lisa is shrieking at the top of her lungs. “Oh my god!” The both of you whirl your heads over to find the slideshow beginning Jungkook’s puberty years and his face drains of colour all at once. Jimin, Taehyung, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Seulgi all burst out into laughter, unable to contain themselves. “Look at how cute he is!” His mother coos at the photos, a sense of nostalgia overwhelming the older woman. “Mom! Oh my god. How do we turn this off?!” He groans, walking over and trying to do damage control. But more pictures of Jungkook’s fourteen year old self dressed as Goku and other various characters from Dragon Ball Z comes up. “This was ingenious.” Hoseok approaches with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of nonalcoholic champagne. He stands side by side with you, looking straight ahead at the projected screen. “Thanks. It was Jimin’s idea though.” “Still a good job on your part.” He steals a glance, but never looks you in the eye. “Jimin has a thousand ideas every day. Doesn’t mean they can all be executed.” “Mhmm…” you hum a note, watching everyone chatting. Jungkook is still the center of attention and scrambling to save face in front of his colleagues and superiors. It’s loud and noisy all around you, but between you and Hoseok, it’s quiet. “You know….you don’t have to tiptoe around me.” He turns to look at you in surprise and you smile, using his own words against him. “I’m not.” “You seem uncomfortable. If it’s something I did, then let me know so I can fix it. You don’t suit being nervous and unconfident.” There’s a beat of silence before he’s scoffing with a laugh. “You didn’t do anything,” he lies easily. “It’s because of work. Things are beginning to pick up and soon enough, we’re going to be busy around here.” “If it’s stress then you can always come talk to me if you want.” You nudge him playfully. “There are a ton of stress relieving methods I know about and I might be able to give you a stress ball or two. But you should hurry. I have reason to suspect that Jin’s going to claim all of them soon.” Hoseok laughs. “I’ll pass.” “Your call.” You shrug. “You’re the one who hired me, so you should use me to your full advantage.” “If I used you to your full advantage, you wouldn’t last a single day.” There’s a streak of mischief that glimmers in his eyes. Now you’re the one scoffing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” And to your dismay, the lawyer only shrugs and giggles again. It’s nice to see him relaxed and at ease, able to joke around with you and look you in your eyes. Things have returned back to normal…..at least temporarily. // Although you have no clue what is a lie and what is a truth when it comes from his lips, Hoseok isn’t wrong when he told you that things were about to become busy….because things become hectic and out of control. If the phrase ‘shit hits the fan’ could be personified, you suppose this is what it would look like. “Namjoon, Namjoon.” Yoongi’s walking with his briefcase and coat in tow, a quick pace that the poor legal assistant can barely keep up with. “I need you to come with me. Bring me Mr. Ji’s case file.” “Okay.” The male’s glasses nearly fall off his face with how quickly he whips himself to the left, grabbing his jacket and belongings. “We’re meeting with his wife’s attorney. Apparently he took the kids with him and she wants to press kidnapping charges.” The both of them run out of the office like their pants are on fire. In the meanwhile, on the other side of the floor, Seulgi and tech-savvy Dahyun are on the carpet trying to fix the copier. The photocopier jammed an hour ago while the other copier is failing to connect to any computer whatsoever. It’s an outright disaster with Inyoung taking Dahyun’s place at reception, catching up on all the phone calls, technicians being contacted to fix the machines. Seokjin left to the courthouse to print the necessary documents needed for later files. At least Taehyung and Jungkook managed to escape the madness that was spiralling wildly. They drove to the next city over, dealing with a case at a different courthouse. Naul is also meeting with a client somewhere outside the office. It leaves only a few of you left at the actual firm, notably Jimin and Sunyi who are in the middle of mediation in the conference room. Half an hour ago, the wife came in and angrily demanded that things be resolved today. The appointment was pushed up, the soon-to-be-ex husband dragged in, and it ruined the schedule completely. You feel useless. There’s nothing you can do to help. Legal professional privilege doesn’t allow you to assist in matters between a client and a lawyer, and when you tried to help fix the photocopier, you dragged them down with your confusion. You’d bask in the simpleness of your job if it wasn’t for the way guilt worms its way beneath your skin. The phone rings suddenly and it snaps you out of your trance. Inyoung is on the other line, sounding a little more nervous than usual. “Ummm...Y/N...have you seen Hoseok?” “No, I haven’t. Did you try calling his cell?” “He’s not picking up. I didn’t see him exit either.” “Is there something wrong?” “No, there’s someone here to see him, that’s all. But I’ll tell her to wait.” “Okay. Tell me if you need help with anything.” “Alright.” You resume working on the staff handbook, completed three quarters way through. You’re finally finished the section about discipline policies and about to begin writing about rules regarding company equipment and computers. But as you stand to stretch your legs and make your way to the kitchen for a coffee refill, on the way there, you run into someone in the waiting area. “Wendy?” “Oh! Y/N!” The beautiful woman with her light pink blouse and black pencil skirt stands with a smile. She fixes her honey coloured hair to drape her backside. “It’s been a while!” “Yeah, it’s been a long time.” You linger for an awkward moment, not sure what to do before you motion down the hall. “Would you like to come into my office instead of waiting out here?” “Sure.” She grabs her bag and follows your lead. “I’m sorry. We don’t know where Hoseok is at the moment, but we should be able to reach him soon.” “It’s fine. I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do. I’m actually quite free these days and it’s nice to be around other people. Less lonely that way.” As she walks down the corridor, her brown eyes does a sweep of the premise. “You guys must be busy around here.” “Yeah, it’s been a bit hectic this week.” “I’m glad Hoseok’s business is doing well.” She has a soft smile while entering your office. “This is so cute!” “It’s nothing much.” You’re embarrassed at your poor excuse of an office. There are lame posters on the wall, tiny plants at the window sill, but it’s still a closet no matter how hard you try to make it better. “Just making do with what I have.” “No, it’s cozy.” She takes a seat from across your desk. “Trust me, I once had a massive office and just useless furniture. Made me feel worse since it was so empty and lonely.” Wendy sighs, “I’m so glad it’s over.” “Over?” “I’m selling my office and the entire firm actually.” She leans back in the comfortable armchair with her arms crossed. “I owned the firm with my husband, built that business from the ground up. We were partners, but now that we’re getting that divorce, we’re liquidating it all and splitting the money.” “It’s funny, huh? How you can invest yourself and your future so much into another person, but something just happens and all your plans get ruined.” It’s like a pressurized geyser has exploded the minute you took off the lid and she spills all the beans of her life. “Well...I’m just happy to get away.” “That’s good then.” You’re not so sure if you should be hearing all this, such private matters that are usually kept hidden from you, but Wendy tells you casually like she doesn’t mind, like she’s reading from the Sunday paper, like you’re a friend. “You’re giving me that look.” “What look?” “That fearful look that tells me you’re scared.” The corner of her red lipstick-stained lips tugs upwards and she flicks a piece of dirt from underneath her fingernail before bringing her attention back to you. “Don’t worry. Not all marriages end like mine. Some end worse. Some end better. A lot don’t end at all.” Without taking a breath she continues, “They always tell you not to shit where you eat...if that man,” she spits the word out with disdain, “and I were not partners, it probably would’ve made this a lot easier. I would still have a job at least. But you know, my seventeen years of marriage was great. The three after that were alright and then the last two were horrible. If you were to ask me if I would do it all over again….maybe. For seventeen years, I had everything I could’ve wanted, a partner, a husband, a companion.” A wistful sigh leaves the seams of her mouth and she gestures with her hand tiredly. “I think I’m rambling, but I don’t want to scare you off.” “What do you mean?” you ask, not sure what she’s implying. There’s a chance that she doesn’t hear your question and a chance that she straight out ignores you. She never once clarifies herself. Instead, Wendy switches the topic of conversation. “How’s Hoseok?” “Hoseok? Y-yeah...he’s doing fine. Busy.” The fifty-one year old lawyer who appears stunningly twenty-five reaches out and takes the stress ball on your desk that looks like Earth. She squeezes and watches it come back to life, relaxing in the chair and fiddling with the toy. “That boy is always busy. He’s very passionate about his work. But outside of it, I swear to god, he’s a clown.” You burst out laughing. “I would say he’s more like a cheerleader.” “Yes.” The woman snaps her fingers. “That kid has a handful of good traits, encouraging, cheerful, but his energy can be downright burdensome. Not only that, but he is so meticulous and I’ve seen him run this office enough to know he secretly enjoys tormenting his employees.” Hoseok’s former mentor laughs again and shakes her head. “He keeps your hands full without you even realizing.” “No one really knows that side of him around here.” You take a brief glance outside of your office door. “Everyone is either scared, intimidated, or they just don’t like him. He thinks being respected and being loved are mutually exclusive.” The timbre of your voice drops down into a whisper. “It makes me sad.” “But he seems brighter these days,” the woman from across your desk points out while watching you carefully. “Does he?” You hope so. Sometimes you worry that he feels too alone. You know that Hoseok is completely aware of the rumours about him and how people actively avoid him. And he doesn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, so he leaves this office later or earlier to avoid taking the elevator with his employees. He doesn’t speak freely to people who aren’t Jimin and Yoongi. He eats lunch by himself in the office, pretending he’s too busy to join everyone else. He rarely displays his affection, rarely shows no restraint. He focuses too much on being firm and professional. He doesn’t mind being labeled at the mean and angry one. And it makes you sad. Jung Hoseok makes you worry too much. “Yeah.” Wendy’s gaze softens. “And I think it’s because of you.” “Me?” “Hoseok is very careful with the people in his life. Despite his good nature, he’s a man of serious commitment and loyalty. I know that much.” She nods as further confirmation of her convictions. “And I can tell that the two of you are very close.” “We...we aren’t that close,” you deny. “It’s just that we used to go to school together, that’s all.” But the female’s perception is too sharp for you to fool. “I think you’re underplaying the truth here.” Another smile appears on her visage. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting you care about another human being.” “I just….” You don’t know how to explain yourself, how to reveal a past that cannot be spelled out in mere words. “We tried. A long time ago. We tried to be something more. And it didn’t work out. At all.” She hums, setting down the stress ball and looking straight at you. “I think sometimes things aren’t meant to work out...but that doesn’t make the time spent together any less meaningful. Sometimes and only sometimes...I think there are things in the world that are worth trying over and over again.” Your mouth opens, but before something more can be said, someone else appears at the door. He’s panting a few breaths, black hair made amok, suit slightly wrinkled like he jogged here. “I was in the bathroom.” “There you are!” Wendy lifts herself from her seat and gives a quick hug to the lawyer. “Sorry for making you wait.” “No, I was having a nice chat with Miss. Y/N here. Very pleasant girl.” “Alright…?” Hoseok glances at you, a bit amused and skeptical. Then he looks at his former mentor and now client. “Should we get going?” “Of course.” Wendy turns to you. “I’ll speak to you some time, Y/N.” You smile at her. “My door’s always open.” // The woman muses how much darker Hoseok’s office is compared to yours. While he has more space and a much larger window, there are blinds pulled a quarter way down and his furniture is a lot darker, mahogany wood or polished black surfaces, a modern aesthetic. In contrast, your tiny space feels like a sunroom, a lighter colour scheme with plenty of sunshine that makes it a lot more breathable. It’s certainly interesting to compare your spaces and tastes, and how they could potentially complement each other well and strike a good balance. Hoseok is preoccupied flipping through stacks of papers, writing things down. On the other hand, Wendy is sitting across from his desk, legs crossed over one another, bored. “That girl is sweet.” There’s silence and she fiddles with the zipper of her expensive purse. “She’s very earnest, I can tell. Her heart’s in the right place.” “She’s naive and trusts too easily,” he mumbles from the corner of his mouth. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she points out. “I heard you used to know each other back then.” “Uh-huh.” “You dated?” Hoseok finally lifts his head, meeting her eyes. “She told you that?” “She said it didn’t end up working out.” “Oh.” “Do you love her?” “What?” Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, getting whiplash at how she went in for the kill without beating around the bush. He scoffs and barks out a laugh, returning to his paperwork. “Don’t be ridiculous. Y/N is my employee.” “It’s not illegal.” “It’s unethical.” “She technically doesn’t even work under you or take orders from you,” Wendy says in a curt tone, never one to back down when she knows she’s right. “She runs her own department and does her own thing. I don’t see any problem in it.” “Can we please stop talking about my business and get back to yours?” “I’m always talking about my issues and problems. It gets boring when you have to constantly discuss the doom of your love life, alright, kid?” Hoseok ignores her and clasps his hands together on top of his desk. “So you really decided to liquidate the firm? I thought you were planning to split it.” “No. We agreed to just sell. There would be too many problems with figuring out who gets what client and which employee we would take with us. It’s better and faster to do it this way. Plus, I don’t think I have an interest in pursuing law anymore.” “What?” He frowns, jaw becoming slack. “What are you planning to do then?” “Travel. See the world. Maybe write a book.” Wendy shrugs. “Do all the things I couldn’t do when I was married and working full-time.” “But will you ever return to practicing law?” “Probably not. I’m at the age where I can retire early and have enough money to last the rest of my life.” Hoseok shakes his head, reeling from unadulterated shock. Wendy is a great lawyer, a role model, someone he looked up to, and he can’t understand why she’s throwing it all away. “I just don’t…” “Get it? Yeah...sometimes I wonder how this all happened.” “Just…” Hoseok sets his pen down and looks at her. The woman has always looked younger than her actual age, an impressive feat created from hard efforts, genetics, and expensive creams. While many people, men and women alike, have been impressed with how well she takes care of herself, Hoseok never cared much for it. But right now, up close, he can see her wrinkles and the deep set marks of age, exhaustion, how life has taken its toll on her. She looks more tired in the past year than she has her entire life. “Where did things go wrong?” But at the same time, she appears wiser. “You know, Hoseok—” Wendy’s legs uncross and she sits straighter. “—I loved Mark very much. I know he was your mentor too and you respected him greatly. You were around us when our marriage was at its highest points, so I understand why you’re surprised when I first came to you about this.” He can’t hide how hurt he is anymore. It was never his marriage, but they always symbolized his hope. “You were both so in love. I could’ve never expected…” “This outcome? For us to think it’s easier to just end things? Yeah...” She smiles meekly and gently whispers, “me either. But it happens and it’s okay. We both just fell out of love. We both fought. We lied. We cheated on each other. We merely tolerated one another. It was ugly. And I hated myself.” He’s heard the same story a million times over. No one ever gets into a relationship believing they’ll break up or get a divorce. It’s unplanned. In every single case he’s worked on, every story he’s read, there were always the high moments. There was always love at some point. There was always happiness. It’s just that no one ever expects for it to crash and burn and become so hideous. Happiness. Family. Children. Love. Anger. Infidelity. Abuse. Deceit. It happens all with the same people. There are years spent sharing bedrooms, falling in love, creating families, raising kids. And there are years drawn out screaming across the courthouse, cursing each other to death, grabbing any assets, letting pettiness get the better of logic, trying to win as if it’s some kind of game. “I think being a divorce lawyer has made you jaded, Hoseok,” Wendy comments. “How could it not?” “You’re right. It doesn’t always work out, but sometimes it does. And I think the feeling of love, of companionship, is completely worth the risk.” His mouth lifts into a timid smile. “Since when did you become such a hopeless romantic?” “Since I saw you and that girl together.” Hoseok scoffs yet again, brushing her answer off. “You’ve seen us twice together. That’s it.” “And that’s all I need to see,” Wendy snaps back, unyielding. “If you’re a good mentee then you would just listen to what I have to say. I’ll tell you the same thing I said to her — just because things don’t work out, doesn’t mean the time spent together is meaningless, and sometimes it’s worth trying things over again.” She stares straight into his eyes, dead center like his pupils are the bullseye of a target. “You will learn from other people’s mistakes, from my mistakes, and you will face what you want rather than running away.” “Just because you see love fail every single day, doesn’t mean yours will fail too, Jung Hoseok.” // The rest of the day simmers down at a better pace. Taehyung and Jungkook return earlier than expected and help Jimin and Sunyi catch up on their schedule that they were behind on. Naul and Seokjin are in good condition while Yoongi and Namjoon call to let everyone know the problems have been resolved. The copier gets fixed miraculously and Dahyun returns to the phones and Inyoung goes back to her position as well. But by then, the work day is over and everyone bids each other goodbye. You stay a few minutes later, finishing typing up the paragraph for the day before grabbing your belongings and your coat. You’re about to leave, but you notice Hoseok’s office door is closed with the lights still on. Wendy had left hours ago and the receptionists are gone. He’s not having a meeting with anyone, and it’s this relentless curiosity that causes you to knock on his door three times. Your knuckles rap on the surface of the wood. But with no sound responding, you carefully crack the door open. The sight of Hoseok’s mouth wide open greets you. His head is knocked back, neck on his chair, slumped, and snoozing away. You smile, approaching with three strides and calling him quietly. “Hoseok...Hoseok?” Your hand lifts to gently shake his arm. “Hoseok.” “Hhm? W-what?” He slowly blinks awake, sitting up again and looking around as if he forgot where he was. “What...what happened?” “You fell asleep. It’s time to go home.” He stretches his arms up in the air and yawns, glancing at you and becoming embarrassed. Hoseok puts on his coat slowly, arms pulling through the sleeves, and you wait for him. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.” “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” There’s a cheeky grin on your face. “I know things have been hectic around here, so it’s okay if the boss gets a little nap time.” Hoseok scoffs lightly and turns to look at you. You’re ready for this cue to leave this office, but when he simply stares, you’re forced at a standstill, feet rooted in the ground, swallowing hard as your heart rate begins to pick up speed. “Y/N, can I ask you a question?” Your head tips. “Sure. What is it?” “I know this is inappropriate and unethical. It might be deemed as sexual harassment too. I don’t want to impose on you in any way. Just tell me if you’re uncomfortable and we can pretend this never happened—” “What is it?” you interrupt, unable to contain your amusement when he’s acting so oddly frantic. “Can I...can I have..a hug?” There’s a pause before you answer. “Okay.” A slow grin spreads across his face, giving him permission by opening your arms up and motioning him over. When Hoseok stays hesitant, you take a step closer and casually wrap your arms around him. He embraces you back after a delayed moment and it goes quiet. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “I’m your boss. I shouldn’t be doing this.” “It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just a hug. I thought it was something much worse.” You giggle quietly, trying to ease his tense muscles that seem to be shriveling up in your embrace. “Did you know hugs can be part of stress relief? I’m just doing my job.” Hoseok smiles, reminding you of the sun as he leans down, pulling you closer to accommodate for the slight height difference. “This is definitely not part of your job description.” “I like giving out hugs, so I definitely wouldn’t mind if it was.” “You’re beginning to sound like Jimin.” “Why didn’t you ask him to hug you instead?” He snorts, laughter bubbling from his throat boyishly, voice moving in a childish pitch and you can practically hear his pout. “I’d rather hug you for a million years than hug him for one second.” You have to remind yourself over and over again that this means nothing. Hoseok just needs emotional support. He just craves platonic physical contact. He’s friendly. This means nothing more. It means nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. “I don’t know about that. A birdy told me you kissed Jimin a lot,” you tease, keeping your mind off of unnecessary thoughts that are beginning to plague you. “On the forehead.” Hoseok melts into your arms, smiling harder. “It means nothing.” “Yeah...I know. I know.” It’s quiet. There’s an absence of all sounds, of white noise, of the busy concrete jungle that surrounds the building you’re in. In Hoseok’s office, you can’t even hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you. All you take in is the sound of his soft breathing, the noise of your running pulse playing in your ears, the scent of fresh linen coming from his crisp clothes, the slight tinge of expensive cologne, how firm yet soft he is wrapping himself around your frame. It’s an invasion of privacy, how easily he can sneak himself and affect your deepest emotions. And yet, you have no nagging doubts, merely savouring his warmth and finding peace and comfort in his touch. “I help end marriages every day. I see the end of relationships all the time,” he murmurs, barely coherent as if afraid to ruin this moment. “I...don’t think I believe in love, Y/N.” “Me either,” you admit. “Why?” “Because...my love wasn’t enough.” It hurts. You shut your eyes tight as if you can stop the barrage of memories, prevent tears from soaking down your cheeks. “And I think I lost my chance.” He swallows hard and holds you closer, tighter, without any regard for where you are or who the both of you are. “Whoever hurt you was an asshole.” “Yeah.” Your hands curl around the fabric of his coat, bunching it in your palm, grasping onto him. “He was.” The man becomes sleepy, blinks heavy as his heart feels. He should let go of you, but he doesn’t want to. It’s like his senses have told him he once let go of you before when he never should’ve. But eventually, enough time passes that you stir. “Hobi, are you okay? Is there something you want to talk about?” His entire body freezes up, muscles becoming rigid, and he pulls away, brows knitted together. “What did you just call me?” “What?” You blink. “I said Hoseok.” “No, you didn’t.” He hasn’t heard that nickname in years. His parents don’t even call him that and he knows for a fact that he isn’t going crazy, that his ears aren’t deceiving him. You step back and pull him away. In one breath, you’ve closed yourself off, drawing into your own body, uncomfortable. “I said Hoseok,” you insist with a sigh. “But can we go now? I’m going to miss my train.” He nods and you walk ahead of him, going straight towards the elevators. Hoseok is left staring at your lonely backside and he wonders how he could’ve been such an asshole, what he exactly did to hurt you so much, who you exactly mean to him.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fanfic #hoseok scenario #hoseok fluff #OHHH SHIIIITTTT #i wonder what'll happen next ;)

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marveliciousfanace · 5 years

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I'm guessing Timon and Pumba are two of the queer-coded characters, but who's the third one?

Sorry it took me so long to get to this! You asked a simple question, but I love to talk, so I’ll give you first a simple answer and then a more complicated one.

The simple answer is: yes, Timon and Pumbaa are the first two queer-coded characters (fun fact: originally, a more comedic version of Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” was written as a duet for them, before it was altered for Simba and Nala). The third character is Scar. And all three of these pose a problem.

Now for the more complicated answer. First, in case anyone thinks I’m making shit up as I go, I’ve done a number of research projects into queercoding at Disney. A source I used heavily, and one I really recommend, is the book Diversity in Disney: Critical Essays on Race, Ethnicity, Gender, Sexuality, and Disability. There are a ton of great essays here, but I draw mainly on two of them from the section on gender and sexuality. They are “’What Do You Want Me To Do? Dress in Drag and Do The Hula?’: Timon and Pumbaa’s Alternate Lifestyle Dilemma in The Lion King” by Gael Sweeney, and “Mean Ladies: Transgendered Villains in Disney Films” by Amanda Putnam.

Okay. Sources cited. Now my explanation.

The post I made about this talks about how the three queercoded characters in The Lion King serve as problematic threats to what is upheld as the good/true/pure/natural heterosexual order of things. Let’s start with Scar, because this is the most blatantly malicious. Scar is queercoded ala what some queer scholars refer to as the “limp-wristed trickster” archetype. This is particularly true of the original film, simply because the 2019 version lacks enough stylization to give a full impression of physicality, and this archetype relies heavily on action. It’s used in everything from Disney animation to James Bond, and it denotes a male character (usually a villain) who is cast as effeminate via traditional queer stereotypes (the limp wrist and hand motions, the slow drawl, and often an invasion of male character’s personal space in ways that is framed as unsettling and predatory). Compounded with what we know of Scar’s backstory (drawing purely from what the film tells us, as the average viewer wouldn’t look farther), we’re given a somewhat ominously effeminate male character, cast out of favor in his family for his hyper-masculine brother, who identifies largely with other outcasts as opposed to his own family. As a queer person, that’s intensely relatable. But we aren’t supposed to identify with Scar. He’s the villain. He and the other outcasts use trickery (the archetype includes trickster for a reason - because obviously these people are inherently deceitful and can’t triumph honestly) to ruin the good, heterosexual paradise that Mufasa commands by taking control for themselves. Scar in particular ruins “traditional, pure heterosexual marriage” by his advances at Sarabi, trying to coerce her into marrying him instead (and notably, there is a distinct lack of even “jealous lover” coding here, so the politicality and violation of modern heterosexual norms is even stronger). Even if the audience does not consciously recognize Scar’s queercoding, it’s highly probable that most can subconsciously draw connections between him and stereotypical traits placed onto queer people. Queercoding villains is a long-time tradition in media for precisely this reason.

But Timon and Pumbaa aren’t villains...or are they? The thing about Hakuna Matata is that, for all its catchy, merchandisable qualities, it’s not actually supposed to be a good thing. Timon and Pumbaa are recognizable as a queer couple (Timon particularly is intended to be somewhat camp) who adopt a son and raise him together in an “alternative lifestyle.” The original film makes it seem somewhat shallow - fun, yes, but ultimately something unnatural and wrong, which I’ll get to in a minute - but the 2019 version makes it downright sinister. Hakuna Matata goes from care-free love and family to “don’t care about others, look out only for yourself, and ignore whatever impacts you might have on other people” selfishness. And it is framed as selfishness, even though I can’t actually see what’s so bad about the actual way they live. The fact that the line metaphor (as opposed to the circle) is used and vilified takes on a particularly upsetting overtone for me: Timon and Pumbaa are prey animals, so the fact that they would not see a circle, but merely the way those at the top (predators -> lions -> the heterosexual patriarchal structure) take advantage of those at the bottom (prey -> queer individuals who don’t subscribe to heterosexual lifestyles) is both relatable and apt, and so for a line metaphor to be instead framed as ignoring the needs of the community (which Hakuna Matata is literally built on - the sanctuary of the prey community that Timon and Pumbaa have built together) in favor of selfishness is particularly distressing, and the fact that in the new film, their relationship has a much harsher, more belittling edge to it did not help.

But regardless of the degree to which Hakuna Matata is vilified before Nala’s arrival, it is her arrival that solidifies it as A Problem. We see the nasty, evil gays I mean hyenas, led by Scar, ruin the pridelands with their greed for power and control (ie a voice in politics) while other queercoded characters raise Simba in “selfish” tranquility and happiness. And then Nala shows up. Heterosexual “love at first sight” does not instantly cure Simba of his “alternative lifestyle,” but it does open him to doubt about the validity of it, further instigated by the instance of Rafiki and his cloud!dad that he has strayed from his nature (heterosexuality) and must return to it. By rejecting Hakuna Matata (queerness) and returning to Pride Rock (heterosexuality), Simbra re-institutes the “natural order.” The sun literally rises again out of the darkness, and all of the queercoded characters literally die, unmourned, in flames. All except Timon and Pumbaa, who have earned the “privilege” of leaving their community in favor of being charitably adopted by a bunch of predators. As a queer person watching the film, this smacks uncomfortably of “pet gay/gay best friend/token gay” stereotypes and traditions, that queer people who can perform their queerness inoffensively for straight people can earn the privilege of not being seen as “one of those gay people” by virtue of knowing their place.

I’d apologize for the essay, but this is actually something I care about deeply, so I’m not sorry at all. In conclusion, I like The Lion King (not the 2019 version, which is an abomination for a number of reasons), but it is important to be aware - particularly if you’re a straight viewer - of the implications that queercoding can have on your narrative via who and how it is done. The Lion King’s queercoding would not inherently have been a problem, except that it applies a) to a villain and b) to a lifestyle that is explicitly condemned and must be overcome by the protagonist.

#my thoughts #disney #the lion king #i wont apologize for the essay #i love talking about analysing queerness in texts

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toaarcan · 5 years

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Scourge the Hedgehog: The Bad Fanfic Apotheosis

Y’all are gonna hate me for this one.

This is something of a followup to my previous post, Fiona Fox: Depth vs. Prominence, and inspired directly by the discussion I had with a friend in the comments section of the DA upload of it.

Part 1: Fanfic vs. Canon- Genesis of the Recolour Elements of the Archie Sonic the Hedgehog comic have long been compared to a bad fanfiction, particularly the parts of the story written by Ken Penders, though other writers like Bollers, Chacon, and Flynn have drawn that label too. I'm one of the people that's done it, and that's largely because I hold fanfic and official material to very different standards. There are certain things you can do in fanfic that you can't do in official material, especially with franchises like Sonic, and especially with more niche parts of said franchise, like a comic series. Of course, there are also certain things you can do in both, but you probably shouldn't. And Scourge is one of them. What exactly the process behind Scourge's creation was is something that's been debated. For a lot of people, he's considered to be a parody of the then-rampant "Sonic Recolour" fad, wherein fans would take screenshots of Sonic X, and other official artwork, and then edit it in Microsoft Paint, or another similar program, to create their own characters and stories. Now, this was long decried by other fans, myself included, as incredibly lacking in creativity and originality. It also had an "Ew, cringe" reaction, due to the often-shoddy editing, text-to-speech voices, and usually some top-tier mid-2000s Nu Metal for the music. These days, it's much easier to look back and say "These were mostly made by kids who were just having fun, and it's completely harmless", and it becomes apparent that a lot of the people that were making fun of them and criticising them were grown men, at which point you kinda realise that this "internet fad" was basically just bullying a bunch of children for not being up to the creative standards of some adults. Everybody was looking for the next Chris-Chan, but Chris-Chan is a near-unique entity, as only one other person alive has ever managed to combine that sheer void of talent with a monumentally repulsive personality, and that person is Ken Penders. But Sonichu is the least interesting thing about Chris, and Chris became the laughingstock that he is because of his inability to avoid posting his entire life on the Internet, which was something of a rarity in those halcyon days before the rise of modern social media. Sonichu was a gateway to the actually interesting content also on his channels, whereas these recolour-creators didn't have anything like that, just endless Windows Movie Maker slideshows. And, like, Chris was in his 20s when he became the Internet's punching bag for the first time, and while he's a horrible person, so were the people that dedicated their time and effort to trolling him- His story is fascinating, but it has no heroes. And into this collective cocktail of grown men shitting on preteens, so Ian Flynn introduced Scourge the Hedgehog. Is Scourge a parody of Sonic recolours? I sincerely hope not. The reason for that is twofold, and I'll discuss how his portrayal generally doesn't seem to be mocking those tropes further down the page, but the second issue with the idea that he is a parody is best explained by Sir Terry.

Parody can never punch down, and as a then-24 year old man writing official canon for a franchise, mocking a bunch of 10 year olds on the Internet for making bad stories would definitely be punching down. And, as I said, nothing about the way Scourge is written is in any way poking fun at the tropes of these fancharacters and stories. It's pretty much all played completely straight. So not only do I hope Ian wasn't trying to mock these fancharacters, but there's also little reason to believe that he actually was. He's not a parody, he is a send-up. And on the one hand, it's kinda nice to throw a bone to those kids. But on the other hand... is Scourge really the character you want to represent your part of the fandom in official material? A cruel, violent, abusive, vicious monster that spends his time palling around with a girlfriend that the writer reforged to be the most unlikable character in the entire comic? Yeah, can't say that's what I'd want if I were one of those people, but he seems to be popular enough, so maybe I'm in the minority there. But now we get to the meat of the problem. You see, the way Scourge is written is one of those things that you can do in fanfic, but you shouldn't do in canon. Part 2: What is a Mary-Sue? The term "Mary-Sue" gets thrown around a lot these days. It's gradually lost all meaning, and has slowly become a term for "Female character that I don't like," mainly used by whiny, easily-offended Broflake Youtubers, who get all pissy that Star Wars films aren't specifically catering to them, to the point that you only have to make a girl be good at something in a movie and these pissbabies lose their shit. I liked Episode VII and VIII more than I, II, or VI, get fucked. But what, then, is a Mary-Sue? And why is it relevant to Scourge? The answer to that first question is a lot more complicated than it might seem. Not just because there are now several different varieties of the trope, but also because the trope itself evolved as it began to be applied to non-fanworks, and additionally because the name itself is somewhat non-indicative. A male Mary-Sue can exist, though these are normally referred to as "Marty-Stue" or "Gary-Stue", or more cynically "The Protagonist". Check out the average Batman comic these days and you'll see what I mean. Originally, the term applied only to a self-insert character in a fanfic, that was an overly-idealised version of the author, dramatically overpowered, hugely popular, normally dating whichever member of the cast the author wanted to bone, or sometimes multiple partners at the same time, along with a few other traits. It's actually pre-Internet term, originating in a Star Trek fanzine when "Mary-Sue" was created as a parody of other fans' similar characters. Over time, the trope evolved to the point that, while the "author avatar" feature is still a pretty big indicator, it's not really necessary. So while there are probably plenty of people out there who want to be Batman, not every character that is a Mary-Sue is someone for the author to project themselves onto, and not every author avatar is a Mary-Sue. Generally, the important features of a Mary-Sue are now: 1) Receives a great deal of favouritism from the author 2) More powerful than the rest of the cast, often to the point of absurdity 3) Faces zero consequences for their actions. 4) Liked by characters that have no reason to do so 5) In a relationship with a character that has no reason to date them, previous relationships be damned. 6) Most importantly, the story will bend over backwards to give them easy wins, even in situations where they logically should struggle. You're probably starting to get where I'm going with this, and if you're not... Part 3: Creator's Pet Scourge is a Creator's Pet. He gets shown a fair bit of favouritism from Ian Flynn, primarily the guise of how much focus he gets. Scourge is the most prolific villain in Ian's run, aside from Eggman himself. While other, better villains like Mogul and Naugus were being imprisoned repeatedly until one retired and the other became a dog, and a huge chunk of the comic's remaining antagonists were being subsumed into the Eggman Empire, Scourge was only moving up, not only being the villain of Ian's first two issues on the book, but continuing to make sporadic appearances for the next twenty issues, before appearing as the new leader of the Destructix under Finitevus in the Enerjak Reborn arc, followed swiftly by a stint as the Big Bad in Bold New Moebius. Does he actually deserve this level of importance? You be the judge, but personally, I don't think so. Even within those stories, Scourge gets special treatment, the biggest and most obvious being Metal Scourge. Now, personally, I think Metal Scourge was a better character than Scourge himself, but the fact that, of all people, Scourge got a Metal counterpart before anyone else, including Knuckles, who had such a counterpart in the games for over a decade by that point. Especially since, well... Metal and Mettle is a fun story, but it doesn't really do anything for Bold New Moebius as a whole, does it? It's basically pure filler, only really serving to add another dead Metal Sonic to Ian's list and stall the plot out for a bit longer. And, of course, the most clear indicator of Scourge's favouritism is that he was he first Archie character to receive his own Sonic Universe arc, and the only one to do so without needing two or three SEGA characters also making up the rest of the lead cast. "Lockdown" isn't a particularly good story, but its existence speaks to not just the insane popularity that such an unworthy character received, but also Archie's willingness to indulge that. Sonic Universe was largely intended to tell stories revolving around the members of the SEGA cast that, for whatever reason, weren't able to regularly appear in the main book. This... frequently got broken, with Sonic, Tails, Sally, Bunnie, Antoine, and Amy all taking centre-stage in the book before obvious candidates like the Chaotix got a look in, some of them twice over, but Scourge was the only time they were willing to try a story based entirely around one of their characters, and they gave it to the already extremely prominent Scourge. It's pretty clear that Ian loved using this character, and did so as much as possible. YMMV on whether that's good or not. Part 4: Scourge OP plz nerf Let's be real, he's overpowered as fuck. Now, overpowered characters aren't necessarily bad, but it's significantly harder to write an OP character than an on-average one, and Scourge didn't work out so well. From the moment he turns green, he's basically unstoppable. The one time he actually seems to remotely struggle is actually in 161, where he looks ever-so-slightly winded after curbstomping Sonic and Shadow at the same time. From then on, while he does start to slowly even out with Sonic, he also continues to utterly demolish basically everyone else, especially his easy conquest of Moebius. It's been suggested that conquering Moebius should be easy, because the big threats are all good, kind people there, but that somewhat ignores that there are anti-versions of the heroes kicking about too. All the (Mostly) benevolent rulers of the Primeverse should be tyrannical despots there, and there are excessively powerful entities like the Anti-versions of Merlin and the Guardians, not to mention whatever horrors Anti-Gerald would've unleashed on the world, and that's without the Suppression Squad themselves. While the comic has generally treated Sonic as being able to stomp the entire rest of the FF, well, who says it has to be a fight? Why the fuck doesn't Patch just poison him? I mean, the obvious answer is "Because then Bold New Moebius won't have a main villain", and sometimes contractual villain immortality has to be a thing, but a good writer should be able to avoid putting the characters in that position. Following on from that, Scourge gets to fight basically the entire FF and Suppression Squad at the same time, (Sonic and Amy are absent and Fiona is on his side), and he's winning until Sonic shows up. Then directly after that is the hedgehog brawl, and despite Sonic managing to get everyone against Scourge, he easily manages to escape and break out his Super form. Even after spending his time in the No-Zone completely powerless, Scourge manages to break out the moment he gets his powers back, despite the prison being full of characters who should be equally or more powerful than him, and the police force that caught them all, basically unchallenged. Scourge never faces an actual challenge in the comic. He never struggles, and the one time he actually loses? Ian makes up some new lore on the spot, which is contradictory to SEGA lore from the same year, and then uses that to have Sonic trick Scourge into depowering himself. Not only does Scourge never struggle with anything, but he also never actually loses a fight. Part 5: When will you learn, that your actions have consequences?! Probably never, because Scourge's actions never have consequences. Throughout his entire run, Scourge gets to go wherever he wants, do what he wants, with or to whomever he wants, and he never has to deal with the fallout of the decisions he makes. Absorbs the energy of a matter world into his antimatter body? He's better than fine, it only made him stronger. Turns up in Knothole with his secret girlfriend's hated arch rival by his side? Never mentioned again. Blows Fiona's connection to him, costing Finitevus' operation a potential spy in Knothole, where Knuckles is? Not even considered a factor. Ditches Finitevus to go and make Moebius into an egopolis? Finitevus isn't bothered, and supports Fiona's efforts to rescue him later down the line after than plan backfired on him. Blinds Patch in one eye out of jealousy/spite? The guy that poisoned Armand and Max, took a torch to Antoine's personal life, took advantage of Sally's frayed mental state, emotionally damaged Bunnie, and tried to assassinate Elias to get what he wanted lets him get away with it. Openly announces that he's going to destroy both worlds? Conveniently does it when he's alone with Sonic so nobody can tell Fiona what she's letting herself in for. He eventually does get sent to jail, but he breaks out with ease the next time he turns up. Because, y'know, that's just what we want to see. Villains never having to deal with karma. Part 6: What does anyone see in him? Scourge doesn't quite get the "everyone loves him" treatment, but he still gets a whole lot more respect than he's ever earned. Both Sonic and Zobotnik are portrayed arbitrarily deciding that maybe there's a shred of good in this monster, and this is the part where I stress that he's abusive again. Maybe if I repeat that enough it'll sink in. Despite knowing full-well the sort of person Scourge is, Sonic's response to Scourge's crappy cribbing of the "One Bad Day" speech is to try and turn it around and claim that Scourge only needs a tiny bit of decency to be a good person, and this is outright untrue, and given what we see of Scourge later, I'm frankly disgusted that Ian tried to pull this with a character he'll pretty much unambiguously portray as an abuser. Zobotnik's case is even more baffling. We're introduced to the guy in the Lockdown arc, and it's implied that he's effectively a tyrannical warden, ruling over the No-Zone with an iron fist, taking an almost sadistic delight in punishing the inmates. But yet, for whatever reason, he decides that it's a good idea to try and rehabilitate Scourge, for no adequately established reason. Even on the other side of the morality line, we have Finitevus, who apparently respects Scourge enough to not just make him leader of the Destructix during the Enerjak Reborn arc, despite him very clearly not being a leader, and not being liked by any of his comrades except Fiona, but then when he promptly ditches the whole plan toward the end, Finitevus apparently decides that he not only wants to get him back, but is willing to go to great lengths and risk losing the only team of mercenaries dumb enough to work for a guy who is quite open about his intentions to "purify the world with Chaos fire" in order to do it. And speaking of, the most egregious case of this comes again in Lockdown, where the Destructix all end up siding with Scourge. Across the second half of the arc, Scourge learns his new team's backstories, and despite them clearly showing traits and beliefs that should make them respect him less, this somehow works in his favour, and he manages to wrest leadership of the team from Fiona. Especially galling is that it appears that Fiona loses their respect early on because of her faith in Scourge, who to them, looks pathetic, but then they end up supporting him anyway, despite doing nothing to earn it. But wait, one's missing... Looks like it's that time again. Part 7: Oh right, he's an abuser. It's time to talk about Fiona. Fiona's heel turn is really, really effective at selling you on the idea that Fiona is a vile, cruel, and selfish person. It's a dramatic, "big bang" moment that, in basically a single panel, got an entire fandom to hate a character. Now for some it was more of a "Love to hate" thing, but there are plenty of people out there who just really hate Fiona for this single moment. And when you're introducing a new major villain, maybe that's what you want to accomplish. What it doesn't do, however, is sell you on her motives for taking that course of action. Fiona, for the rest of her existence, mainly antagonises Sally, whom she has no worthwhile connection to on either side of her turn, other than being the evil Sally to Scourge's Evil Sonic, and stands around or clings to Scourge's arm, looking smug about her abusive relationship. And yes, it is abusive, verbal abuse is still abuse, and the implications that he's physically abusive are present too. I know this is something that Scourge's fans don't really want to accept, but it's true, and we're going to get into that later. For now, what matters is that this character's run as a villain mainly consists of: Fiona: "Hey Sugar-Queen, look at how much my boyfriend yells at me and insults me, and probably beats me when he's angry. I make smart decisions and you suck." We never come to understand why this character, who is so motivated by her belief that everyone will eventually double-cross her that she has decided to start lashing out at people before they can turn on her, is willing to put her faith 100% in someone so repeatedly deceptive that he first approached her by pretending to be someone else. Like, in terms of bad first impressions, that's up there with arriving at a job interview in full clown regalia. The comic makes no effort to show why these characters like each other. Scourge allegedly likes her because she chooses to turn evil and join him, rather than being born evil, but this clashes with not only the fact that Fiona is a genuinely good person before this, who makes a solid effort to stay loyal to her friends first, and is lured into villainy by him, but also the fact that she blames everyone but herself for her current situation, but especially with the fact that all of the foreshadowing for Fiona turning evil consists of people not trusting her because she has a shady history. Scourge claims to appreciate that Fiona is a good person that chooses to be evil, but the narrative has a clear message of "If you started evil, it doesn't matter if you try to become good, you will always revert to type." Which isn't exactly a good message, Ian. In return, all we get from Fiona's side is that Scourge "has no expectations of her and just wants to have fun", which clashes entirely with how we see them interact in subsequent arcs, where Fiona frequently looks disturbed or apprehensive, or just bored, while Scourge yells at her and threatens her for not meeting his standards. Seriously, why do people ship this? But okay, okay. Scourge is a good liar, and Fiona's established paranoia and history do make her vulnerable to manipulators like him, so maybe she falls for his lies and gets taken for a ride. That could happen, sure. Doesn't really explain why she becomes a horrendous person all of a sudden, but whatever. Maybe he convinced her to do it as a sort of hazing, and a means of ensuring she couldn't go back. That fits with his abusive nature (You might also notice that this the explanation I used in Revival). But why does she stay? And why does she refuse every out she's given? Why, after everything that pulled her to his side has turned out to be bullshit, does she remain devoted to him? Now, you can argue that due to the abuse and the manipulation she's suffered, she believes she has to stay with him, and that's a fair shout, but her appearance in Journey to the East is kind of a stumbling block for that theory, because we're shown a Fiona who is fully capable of functioning without him, and even after making efforts to establish herself... the next time we see her she's gone back for him. And now... well, it's time to talk about that "A" word I've been bringing up a lot in this section. Scourge is abusive. I've frequently referenced that he verbally abuses Fiona every time she displeases him across the book, but the most telling scene is this one from Issue 190.

"You do not want to be sent back with me." Translation: "If I get sent back, and you're sent back too, I'm going to beat the shit out of you." Fiona (With her invisible left arm) isn't excluded from this threat. Fiona isn't surprised by this threat either. Nor does she not take the threat seriously. She looks like she's expecting to be struck. He beats her. And please, nobody say that "he's just angry", that's apologism. Now, I dunno if this was in the script, or if Fiona's face was something Yardley did on his own, but given that this arc ends with Super Scourge announcing his intention to destroy both Mobius and Moebius, simply because he can, regardless of the collateral, I'm willing to bet that this relationship wasn't a happy, stable one. But, unfortunately, this element was never made clear enough. Now, your mileage may vary on whether you think Sonic the Hedgehog comics are the appropriate place to discuss abusive relationships or not, but we've got one now, and Ian dropped the ball. This wasn't a Joker/Harley, where the pairing was clearly abusive but also sold DC/Warner millions of dollars worth of merch, this wasn't a RWBY, where Adam took three years to show up and had already won a huge number of fans from his admittedly cool design and powers, so people already liked him before they even knew what his personality was like. Ian had full control over this, no merch to worry about, and Scourge's prolific appearances gave him plenty of opportunity to make it clear that this was an ugly, repulsive thing that Fiona needed to get out of ASAP. And he didn't. Because panels like this, and all the yelling, clearly weren't enough for the fandom. No, you point this detail out to them and they'll make excuses, try to pretend it didn't happen, or just get offended, or worst of all, outright say they don't care and still ship it. We have fanartists who became real official artists creating stories where this garbage-fire pairing is used for sad feels, not because Fiona got stuck in a relationship with a controlling, violent monster, but because oh no they really loved each other and now Fiona's dead isn't it tragic don't you feel sorry for Scourge? No. No I don't. I feel sorry for the thousands of teenagers who support an abusive relationship because Ian was too cowardly to make it clear that the relationship in question was just that. Now, do I think that Ian is an intentional abuse apologist? No. Do I think he wimped out of taking the necessary steps to make it clear that this was bad because he didn't want people to dislike his shitty pet villain? Oh yeah, I do. Scourge's reputation was more important to Flynn than appropriately and sensitively portraying a destructive, damaging relationship between a woman and her monstrous partner. Well, I say "Woman", let's not forget that Fiona was meant to be sixteen, and realistically if you take her timeline into account she's more likely to be about fourteen. Real fucking classy. Part 8: Effort? What effort? So, now we get to our final criteria. And frankly, it's the easiest one to cover. From the moment, Scourge turns green, his life becomes a cakewalk. Everything he ever wants is handed to him with zero actual struggle on his part. Wants to be stronger than Sonic? He is. Zero side-effects to using a Chaos energy form from a mirror universe, or having a Super transformation interrupted, he just seemingly gets to be half-Super forever. Wants another leg-up on Sonic? Here's Fiona, sans personality. Sonic says he's just a lame ripoff of himself? He conquered a planet in a week, look at how cool he is. Also his team all roll over and make him their leader even though they hate him and they could easily kill him. He gets to walk through the entire FF/Squad teamup, and the Hedgehog teamup, and then when he gets to the No-Zone, Zobotnik, who has kept far smarter and more dangerous characters locked up for decades arbitrarily decides to reform him and gets completely suckered by him. The Destructix fully throw in with him, despite him never actually earning their respect. He never loses a fight where he wasn't depowered first. You know what the irony of this is? Ian has a character whom he is contractually obligated to never have lose for longer than an issue or two. And honestly, he wasn't awful at disguising that. Sonic gets a few wins that feel too easy, but for the most part, the issues with this rule mainly manifest in Sonic's limp responses to the tragedies happening around him, and a sprinkling of minor failures and pyrrhic victories ensure that the rule looks more like shoddy writing in a few places unless you're explicitly told about it. And even then, he still manages to make it look like Sonic struggles to attain those victories, that he has to actually put his back into it every time. He is challenged. Scourge isn't allowed to be challenged. That's the irony. Ian has a protagonist who he is not allowed to have lose, and Sonic still manages to be avoid looking like a boring invincible hero, while Scourge just never faces anything that can actually pose a threat to him. Powerful opponents crumple before him. Characters' personalities and development shift to suit his needs. The plot warps to benefit him. Because heaven forbid Scourge actually have to work for his wins. Who needs stakes when you can have the writer on your side! Part 9: In summation... I think you should've all twigged where this is going by now, so let's wrap up. 1) Does Scourge receive a great deal of favouritism from the author? Yes. 2) Is Scourge more powerful than the rest of the cast, often to the point of absurdity? Yes. 3) Does Scourge face zero consequences for his actions? Yes. 4) Is Scourge liked or respected by characters that have no reason to do so? Yes. 5) Is Scourge in a relationship with a character that has no reason to date him? Yes. 6) Most importantly, does the story will bend over backwards to give Scourge easy wins, even in situations where he logically should struggle? Yes. According to these criteria, Scourge the Hedgehog is almost a textbook example of a Mary-Sue. Which is probably why something as disgusting as him got away with so much. I guess, then, that his role in Revival, and a lot of the stuff before that, is the unfortunate reality of a Mary-Sue who suddenly has to deal with the fact that they're no longer getting that special treatment from the writer. That now their actions have consequences, that now the universe doesn't shape itself to their desires.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Archie Sonic #Ian Flynn #Scourge the Hedgehog #Fiona Fox #Evil Sonic #Critical #CW: Abuse #TW: Abuse

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chisie12 · 5 years

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Kisame Week Day 2: Hidden in the Abyss

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20036536/chapters/47594251

The next chapter for Breathing Under Water :D !

It doesn’t start with Kisame but he does appear early on! Hope you enjoy reading!

~*~*~

The Autumn dawn was about to break, quietly and slowly lighting up the concrete pavements. Crystalline dew hopped off the bouncing auburn leaves as Akira stepped through the large white pine door. Nodding her head at the guards, she silently walked through the crimson carpeted floors and stopped before the double doors.

“Come in, Akira,” said a deep voice.

Her solemn countenance cracked with the betrayal of a smile. You can’t get past shinobi instincts after all, especially when it’s –

“Good morning, Hokage-sama.” She bowed her respects before greeting a bubbly Minato and a grumpy, definitely sleepy, Shikaku who stood by the side.

The old man, weathered by the vicissitudes of life smiled warmly. “A very early one indeed. What’s your report?”

“There are some correlations, Hokage-sama,” Akira began. “It will still need more testing for a definitive answer if we wish to know whether Eden can improve our strength in real life, but training in that world is possible. In terms of testing out skills and movements, I believe it’s doable. Because of the nerve connections and realism that Eden utilises, one would really feel like they’re fully immersed in the game.”

“What level are you, Akira?” Minato interjected excitedly. His blue eyes lit up, shining brighter despite the time.

“Only 35.” Her voice was small, shy even. Because it’s been three months since she started, having played since the launch, but her level was rather... miserable. “I've spent too much time figuring out the possibilities of utilising my character differently,” she harrumphed. “Of course I cannot compare to a level 47 Shadow Hunter like you. Aren’t you at the top of the leaderboard?”

Minato shook his head with a small smile. “Supposedly, yes.” Seeing Akira’s raised brow, he continued with a grin. “If you did it the conventional way too, you'd top me.”

Akira didn’t suppress her snort at his comment or her smile. A teasing glint shone in her eyes, leaning in front of a grumbling Shikaku to wink at Minato. “I would top you if Kushina-hime allowed it. Oh, maybe we could both top you.” Dark giggles danced out of her lips, the sly smile widening bit by bit into a full blown grin at the blond’s reddening face. “The hime will probably love that.” The flush was darkening, almost to the beautiful fire of his said wife’s hair.

Shikaku groaned as he painfully squeezed his eyes shut.

Despite the difference in their ranks, Konoha City’s Hokage Sarutobi chuckled, feeling a little wistful yet nostalgic at watching the younger generation. He used to be one of them once upon a time, and the only regret he had was not eliminating the wars as they grew up. “Alright, before my Commander embarrasses himself further, what of the swordsman that you found a month ago?”

Akira straightened her back and replied solemnly, “As previously reported, I’ve already established contact with him, Hokage-sama. He seems to linger around areas near the sea.”

He laced his fingers, nodding at her words. “You know what to do, Shimizu-san.”

Basically, determine whether to ally with him or kill him. An absolute joy.

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

Sarutobi stared at his commanders, inwardly sighing at the sight. They were young, too young for such bloodshed, but it was necessary, lest the enemies come knocking on their door.

Minato, Konoha’s Forces Commander, Akira his vice, and Shikaku, the Tactical Commander straightened themselves when Sarutobi looked at them.

The meeting then began.

Iwa City and Kumo City had been knocking down Leaf City’s border patrols recently and Konoha were no strangers to the frequent skirmishes that were happening. After the Second Shinobi War, power of the Five Great Shinobi Countries was declining, and more and more task forces were being sent out to man the border stations, only to end up in another scuffle.

Hokage Sarutobi only hoped that it wouldn’t blow up into a full scale war. He wished for his people to live in peace, to go about their lives without a worry of bloodshed, for their children to grow up healthy and strong, both shinobi and civilians alike.

Because his life hadn’t been like that. It was always a war after the other, eliminating threats and protecting his family. Throughout the years he reigned as Hokage, he managed to give birth to a full technologically advanced city, the village now a city with a stable economy and good education.

Eden was secretly a Konoha government project after all. Even though Mad Games hailed from the Akibaba City nearer to the Country of Merchants, Konoha had managed to reach out to the team, promising support and massive investments, if certain programs could be implemented. They agreed, easily enough (Konoha’s happy tree huggers reputation does come in handy), if not for the investments, but for the challenge and wish to create a game closely linked with reality.

When the sun was high in the sky did the talks end.

And then it was back into the land of Eden...

~*~*~

Thick blood drifted on the sea, like celebratory crimson streamers. His blue hand loosened its grip on the sword’s handle and he was enveloped in a white light. Tailless Beast was finally at level 40.

He dropped to sit on the empty sands of Faraway Beach, an area where level 40 to 50 monsters roamed. The rush of his bloodlust calmed with every lap of the waves, fingers softly digging into the sand, drenched by the pushing water, cold and chilly, yet welcoming to his mind. And then he saw it floating on the surface, riding the wave to the beach, only to get stuck within the grooves of rolling sand. Memories, like the slow whoosh of the waves, drifted into his mind; Of laughter and of smiles, of a moment of normalcy, of a simple friend.

‘But she’ll never be my friend now if she saw me.’ With a sigh and a push off his hand, he stood up, strapping the plain silver steel broadsword on his back and picked up the trash.

Ding!

[Picked up ‘Trash on the Beach’. 1/20]

His small black eyes widened in surprise. Looking around the beach, he spotted a broken beer bottle sticking out in the sand nearby. Digging his toes into the sand below the glass, feeling the cool hard surface, he flicked his foot up and perfectly caught the bottle in his hand.

[Picked up ‘Trash on the Beach’. 2/20]

A soft rumble vibrated in his chest, a gentle sound unlike the usual snarls and growls. Such an odd quest, totally unrelated to the any classes, but he continued picking up trash acquiescently. Each time his hand reached out, a phantom shadow of a smaller, tanned and not blue hand would appear in his mind, and a smaller, petite silhouette would occasionally emerge at the corner, figure bending down wordlessly, soiling her fair fingers with trash and dirt. Kids, an innocent time; freedom unrestrained by many forces. His childhood wasn’t anything nice to look at, and if anything, those from Konoha would be appalled, pale faced and shocked if they knew what Kiri subjected him to. Training grounds filled with blood and gore, harsh vomit and burning tears, bloody screams of innocent children and the whistling of the blade slicing through soft flesh.

With a tired sigh, Tailless Beast shook those thoughts away, flinging them far away into the abyss of the sea and focused on the silhouette that’d occasionally emerge. He felt peace when he remembered the clear joyful chortle bubbling from her chest, the small tilt of her lips and provocative look she’d send his way, the crescent shaped eyes and grin from the joy of swimming in the salty depths. He remembered it all, down to the same flower kanzashi she always wore in her high ponytail.

When he picked his 19th trash, a notification popped up.

[Clear Shadow sent you a friend request. Accept? Reject?]

The wistful happiness from a moment ago was doused like a bucket of water onto the fire, replaced by sheer irritation and sharp teeth grinding against each other.

He instantly rejected her.

“Hewwo.”

Immediately after, he received a text message from Clear Shadow. He ignored it and went to look for another trash to pick up, somehow seemingly finding none. Frustrated, he walked further down the beach, further from the vast sands through an area of grassy patches where a natural rock archway of the cove presented itself up ahead.

[Clear Shadow sent a video message. Click to view.]

He was stopped in his tracks at the message that came through, staring at the message’s preview and like an automation and the subconscious dreaded curiosity of a hungry fish staring at the worm, a screen popped up before him. He could only curse at his brief stupidity as he stared at the short two second video. On loop. That blue furry looking monster (if he recalled correctly) was an alien named Stitch, who was holding his claws out, curling slightly while his mouth attempted at what should be a friendly grin as he greeted in a dragged out “Hi.”

“Hewwo,” Clear Shadow said the moment the video replayed. “I thought you were ignoring me!”

“I was,” Tailless Beast replied curtly.

“Not anymore.” And he swore she (it’s a she, right? No sane male would do this video sending and ‘hewwo-ing’) was giggling to herself.

A growl ripped out of his throat as he closed the chat with her, scolding himself for allowing her stupidity to spread to him.

He walked closer to the cove, frightened seagulls cawing in the air.

[Clear Shadow sent you a friend request. Accept? Reject?]

Rejected.

The hell was wrong with her?

Another message came this time and his impassive expression cracked, lips tilting into a manic, feral grin.

“Notice me, senpai.”

Irritation flared, clouding his mind and words danced across his screen, his finger hitting send before he could process what just happened. “Go away! The hell is wrong with you? I’m not your friend or your senpai! Go bug someone else!”

And then came a silence, pervaded by confusion and unsettled anger. Tailless Beast scoffed, jabbing at the ‘x’ to close the chat window in an attempt to satisfy his desire for a fight. Bending down after nearing the cove, he picked up the trash and it displayed that he had picked up a full 20 out of 20, but... the quest remained incomplete.

“What the heck? Is there a bug?”

A female voice cursed, the voice a little echo and distant. Rounding up the natural rock archway, he saw a level 40 female Elementalist cladded in a red robe. The hell? Wasn’t she level 35 yesterday?

“Why won't the quest complete?”

He'd go up and ask her, he really would. The quest was baffling him too. Not only was it totally random, it seemed to be bugging as well. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, step forward. No. The confusion and curiousity in him melted in the wrath of unsettled, rekindled annoyance, all because the mage’s ID was “Clear Shadow”.

As though sensing his gaze on her, he watched the surprise flit across her face before her mouth curved into a mischievous smile. No, don’t start –

“Senpai noticed me!”

Fuck.

He turned around to leave when the tide rushed in, a wavy crystalline surface rippling across ashy brown coloured rocks, crashing into him and her, drenching their armour. He dropped his lifted foot while the water receded, cringing in pain when a sharp object pierced through his steel boots and a small damage floated above his head.

“What the hell?”

A softer voice meshed with his, words overlapping each other in the same mix of annoyed confusion, yet in an odd presence of tacit understanding, they bent down to inspect the items. A crisp ring rang as they both received notifications.

Tailless Beast: [You have discovered the tooth of Sharkman Kelo. Follow the clues to unravel the truth of the fall of Atlantis.]

Clear Shadow: [You have discovered the tears of Mermaid Knight Rie. Follow the clues to unravel the truth of her death.]

A lilt voice, soft and gentle sang a sorrowful tune. The crashing waves seemed to have calmed, as though mournful at hearing the voice, now mere small ripples swimming in the natural grooves on the ground. A salty breeze drifted in, picking up strands of their hair and caressed their cheeks before dipping into their bags. An azure halation lit up in the shallow water and small glowing beads appeared before the surface. They congregated near both players’ bags and the twenty trash items floated out, hanging around their figures in two perfect dancing circles. The blue light pulsed and they watched as the items started breaking down, integrating with the shrinking glow that nestled itself around their necks. A thin azure line stretched out. Both the shark tooth and pearl were lifted off their palms, moving towards their neck and attaching themselves to the dimming glows. When the rock archway calmed and returned to normal, with the voice turning silent, there was a pair of matching necklaces hanging around their necks. The chain was shimmering in a translucent pale blue from glass beads strung together, with the only difference the shark tooth and pearl hanging in the centre.

Sharkman Kelo’s Ring of Promise (Legendary): Ornament.

Requirements: Level 0, male.

Properties: Strength +227, Strength +293 (in water), Speed +100 (in water), Dexterity +100 (in water).

User will also gain the ability to breathe underwater.

Restriction: Bound to Tailless Beast.

Mermaid Knight Rie’s Tear in the Abyss (Legendary): Ornament.

Requirements: Level 0, female.

Properties: Intellect +426, Strength +112 (in water), Dexterity +100 (in water).

User will also gain the ability to breathe underwater.

Restriction: Bound to Clear Shadow.

Tailless Beast pursed his lips and looked at Clear Shadow. Clearly, the quest to Atlantis was related to hers and he didn’t know if he wanted to complete it or not. He preferred grinding solo, with no annoying bugs in the way, but what truly caught his attention was that she seemed to have done the same quest he did: Picking up trash on the beach. Was it merely a coincidence?

Akira returned Tailless Beast’s stare, a myriad of emotions filling her mind. Like him, she figured it was a quest they both had to embark on together, but she had a special mission to complete. But she also had the mission to tail him. What to do!?

Tailless Beast took in her silence curiously. Maybe going on a quest with her wouldn’t be so bad after all? “How did you trigger the quest?”

Akira arched a brow. “By picking up trash. Didn’t you trigger it too?”

His mouth opened and closed, words twisting in his head as he tried to form a sentence. “But why would you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Habit, maybe. I used to pick up trash on the beach when I was younger. Watched a friend do it, so I started doing it too.”

Something nagged at him, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Dejected, he turned to leave, the new emotions swimming in him foreign and confusing, and he wanted to find a quiet spot to stew in his thoughts. He only took one step, a simple one tiny step, when a system notification popped up.

[Clear Shadow sent you a friend request. Accept? Reject?]

A vein bulged on his temple when he saw it. Pursed lips parted into a snarl, black beady eyes glaring at Akira when a new message popped up.

Clear Shadow, “It’ll be easier to do the quest this way.”

“Who said I wanted to quest with you?”

“What? Are you afraid of a little competition? Can’t handle a small mage like me?” Akira taunted.

“I'm not afraid! I just don’t want to carry you!”

“Pfft, I’ll be carrying you in the end.” Akira replied. She waited a beat then continuing, “Forget it. You're just going to drag me down. I'm gonna level up myself.”

Before she could cancel the friend request, it disappeared, replaced by a system notification displaying [Tailless Beast accepted your friend request.]. A smirk made its way onto her lips and she quickly smoothened her expression out.

“Senpai did notice me after all!”

“Fuck off. I’m not your senpai.”

“You can’t regret becoming my friend.”

“I already did.”

“You suck. You just don’t want to admit I'm better than you since we’re both level 40 now.”

“Fuck no. Someone probably carried you.”

As they bickered back and forth, the same lilt voice appeared again and a glow appeared within the deep blue sea. That was their clue.

Their words got stuck in their throats, their argument forced to die as they exchanged a glance; one grinning, one grumpy. They really were going to do this.

In the back of his mind, something was nagging at him like an annoying scratch, that he never fully noticed before, but... she wasn’t finding him weird or scary from his ‘choice’ of appearance. She never questioned or judged it (to be fair on his part though, she was probably weirder than a blue-skinned, shark-looking Blade Master).

“Last one there is a rotten fish!”

She’s definitely going to be the death of him.

The pair dashed into the waves and leapt simultaneously, body arching in a perfect curve and they dove down into the depths with only the mysterious glow guiding them. The necklaces worked their magic, only glowing a faint azure colour before returning to its unassuming state. Lines were carved onto their necks, thin black lines that opened and closed with their every breath, filtering out oxygen from the salty depths. Excitement gleamed in their eyes, endless possibilities suddenly available to them with this gift, when they noticed exactly who it was that they shared this joy with, there was a mix of reactions; one of tease and the other of grumbles. The vast golden sands stretched out far and deep, rocks standing strong and steady with beautiful coral reefs steadily appearing with seaweed and small schools of fishes waving their greetings. Darkness flooded their vision the deeper they went, yet that mysterious glow was still so far away. Small fishes gradually grew larger to the point the pair had to hide as the monsters slowly grew stronger as well.

Tailless Beast watched the giant angler fish swim past the tall rock pillar, barely thick enough to conceal both players. Akira huddled close to the near two-meter-tall giant, whose hand stretched out in front of her. To hold her in place? To protect her? They both held their breaths, heart beating steady as they kept their calm. She peeked out from over his shoulder, observing the monster.

Revengeful Angler (Level 60)

HP: 450,000/450,000

She gulped the lump in her throat and subconsciously inched closer to Tailless Beast. When he felt her figure closer to his, silk robes caressing his skin, his eyes darted to her fair fingers gripping tightly onto the stick she called a wand, illuminated ever so slightly by the lone light of the Revengeful Angler. Lifting his eyes to steal a glimpse at her panicking gaze, he decided against commenting on her actions, smirking instead to himself at the new memory.

“The hell you smirking at, big blue?” Akira sent him a whisper when she caught sight of his upturned lips.

“You’re a scaredy-cat,” he sent back, eyes still glued to the retreating figure of the monster. “And why big blue? Cause I'm big and blue? You get 0 points in creativity.”

“Oh, we’re counting points now? I at least get a point for coming up with a nickname. And no, I'm not a scaredy-cat. You try going up and killing that fish. Maybe I get to eat sashimi tonight.”

“That sashimi will poison you, I'm sure. You get a point for creativity and a penalty for coming up with a shit one. So you're at 0 points. Also, I don’t have a death wish. I'm not going up against it.”

“Senpai, I didn’t know you were such a scaredy-cat.”

“Shut the fuck up with the ‘senpai’.” All traces of his mirth disappeared.

Seeing his snarl, full of pointy teeth and huge frame towering in fury, Akira’s bottom lip jutted out into a pout. “Sorry, sorry, Beast. Don't get mad, okay?”

He scoffed, turning instead to Revengeful Angler that was circling back to the stone pillar they hid behind. “We might need to make a swim for it.”

He growled when she leaned too far forward, her ribs pushed against his still outstretched arm. “Not so far!”

Fighting the urge to roll get eyes, she chose to rather merely nod and agreed to his earlier suggestion. “When it swims back out, we will.”

And so they waited, storing their weapons away to reduce their burden when they swam. Tailless Beast nudged her back a little, scooting further to the other side as the large monster swam past, its light gleaming over the hidden players only for a brief moment. They attentively watched it swim, awaiting the moment that they wanted.

“Now!” he called under his breath, a calloused hand tugging at her smaller one as he started swimming away, towards the mysterious light that no other lifeforms could somehow detect. They kicked their legs hard, stretching their arms out as far as possible and pushed as hard as they could. A monstrous roar shook the sea as Revengeful Angler spotted the escaping duo and immediately chased after them.

Soon, the gap between Akira and Tailless Beast widened, but she remained calm, fighting hard to swim faster but the difference in strength directly affected their swimming speed. Even though she wasn’t an orthodox Elementalist with high intellect but rather an odd mix of intellect and strength, she would never be able to catch up to a Blade Master whose strength stats were high, and higher in the water.

He swam fast and swift, an unrestrained joy washing his every nerve and muscle while he swam, just like a fish in water. He turned back towards Akira, that joy blanking into panic when he saw the tens of meters of distance between them. Seeing the mage robes billowing in the water and the monster not far behind her, he realised there and then that he forgot; forgot of their differences, forgot to support another fellow party member. Now he wasn’t swimming away anymore. Mists of tiny bubbles shrouded his rushing body, thick muscles of his legs kicking up a storm with eyes focused on both Akira and Revengeful Angler. An arm stretched out, slender desperate fingers finding their way to his and surprised blue eyes, the colour deeper in the sea lit up only by the angler fish’s light, stared at him incredulously. He ignored her stare, instead pulling hard at her much smaller hand towards him.

A heat wave behind her broke their trance and they turned to see Revengeful Angler charging an attack with her esca. The light grew brighter, stronger and the water fifteen meters around it rose in temperature until it began bubbling. A chill ran down their spines.

“It should only be a linear attack! Move!” Akira yelled out and pushed Tailless Beast away no matter how much she enjoyed whatever it was before.

In the split second Revengeful Beast let out its attack, Akira and Tailless Beast were separated, and the beam shot right through their middle, extending another twenty meters with the heat strong enough to make them boil despite the distance of a few feet. Tailless Beast immediately pulled Akira next to him again when the attack ended and started swimming again. The light started to fade, returning to only light up the area around the Revengeful Beast and shrouded in darkness, the two were safe. Moments after, when they were tired and irritated at the long distance, they finally neared the mysterious light. The small ball of white flames was flickering alone in the deep sea.

“This is it? I don’t see Atlantis anywhere.”

Akira remained quiet while she observed the flames, somehow seeing the illusion that a mermaid was crying in the embers. She reached out a finger as Mermaid Knight Rie’s Tear in the Abyss started to glow in correspondence. It was surprisingly cool on her skin, comforting and gentle like a spring breeze when everything suddenly plunged into darkness. The fire was snuffed out, the pearl’s glow disappeared.

And then, a horizontal white slit appeared in the abyss, widening with a blurry vision a mix of blue, green and gold entering her sight until sharpness returned.

[You have discovered the fallen land of Atlantis.]

#kisameweek2019 #Day2Prompt2 #modern game au #kisamexoc #mermaids

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tisfan · 5 years

Text

Why Do you Have to Go (And Make Things So Complicated)

Title: Why Do You Have to Go (And Make things So Complicated) Collaborators: @27dragons and @tisfan AO3 Link Square Filled: N1 - Character is a Femme Fatale Ship: winterironwidow Rating: E Major Tags: threesome, anal, oral, vaginal Summary: He could see the headlines now: Stiff with a stiffie. Or He died happy. Or Stark monument already erected. Word Count: 4963 Created for @mcukinkbingo

A/n: This continues from Something Truly Shocking which was a little sarcasm prompt. All you have to know is that Tony was pretending not to notice how Sexy Nat and Bucky are.

Tony was going to die. Specifically, he was going to be murdered, right here in his own workshop. Either Natasha was going to give him a heart attack, or Bucky was going to clue in and come after him with a knife.

Pepper’s worst nightmare was going to come true: Tony was going to die with an erection, and she was going to be stuck trying to keep that out of the news cycle.

He could see the headlines now: Stiff with a stiffie. Or He died happy. Or Stark monument already erected.

Jesus. Natasha had always, since the first day Tony had met her, been a femme fatale, but even when she’d been trying to seduce her way into his company under Fury’s orders, she had never been quite so determined about it. And the femme was a lot closer to fatale, these days, because she had a boyfriend now. An impressively sexy, resting-murder-face, not-quite-ex-assassin of a boyfriend, who would absolutely come after Tony’s balls if he realized that Tony was thinking about his girlfriend that way.

Even if it wasn’t his fault. He was trying not to, but Natasha did not make it easy on a guy, with her barely-there bikini, asking him to put sunscreen on her, for pity’s sake, because the stuff gummed up Bucky’s arm.

Why couldn’t Bucky just use his other hand to lube up his girlfriend? Why did it have to be Tony’s job?

Christ on a cracker, and the draping herself seductively over the furniture all the time! Logically, Tony was pretty sure that was just a habit for her, left over from the days when she was earning her codename much more literally, seducing marks into her deadly web. Damn it, Tony was only human! And since he and Pepper had split a year or so back, he hadn’t exactly been on the dating scene, so he had a lot of pent-up urges floating around.

This last episode had been far too close; Tony had actually found himself staring down into her cleavage, trying to decide if he was actually seeing a bit of nipple or just imagining it, when he’d glanced up and caught Bucky staring at him. He’d nearly died on the spot.

Possibly literally.

(more under the count)

Not that Tony wouldn’t have deserved it, even though he and Bucky were on pretty decent terms these days. It had been a rocky path to start, but now Bucky came to Tony for trouble with the arm, then stuck around and watched old episodes of Star Trek with him. Sometimes Bucky brought Tony snacks when Tony was working late, and let Tony ramble on to him about whatever the latest project was. (Tony had actually worked through several knotty issues simply using Bucky as a sounding board.) Also, Tony would never admit it, but Bucky had long since ousted Steve in Tony Stark’s Avengers Sexiness Rankings. All the same supersoldier muscle topped off with a bad-boy cherry? It was like goddamn catnip.

Still, their hard-won friendship was probably not up to the pressure of Tony leering at Bucky’s girlfriend.

Tony slumped onto his stool and put his head in his hands. Maybe he could hide in the workshop until they’d finished swimming and then put clothes on again. Lots of clothes.

That didn’t seem very likely, as there was a rap on the glass door of the workshop and there were two bathing-suit-clad not-quite-Russian superspies right outside. Natasha had Bucky by the strings of his shorts, and the way she was tugging on them was not disguising at all that Bucky had a rather impressive package just underneath the nylon-spandex material.

Yep, he was going to die with an erection. Iron Man’s hard end.

“Got a minute?” Natasha mouthed, waving her free hand around to indicate-- something. Her, her boobs, maybe. Tony wasn’t quite sure, but the gesture made her body wriggle impressively.

And because he’d never been able to resist either one of them for very long, he waved back, signaling FRIDAY to open the door. “Thought you two would be splashing it up by now,” he said as they came in.

“We had a question,” Natasha said. She walked over to one of the workshop tables, still dragging Bucky, which was both hilarious and very distracting, because there was an awful lot of Winter Skin on display. He turned, just a little, and Tony got a really good look at Bucky’s shapely ass. He lifted Nat up so she was seated on the work table, and then practically lounged between her pale thighs.

“She’s been going about this all wrong,” Bucky said, and Natasha smacked him on the shoulder.

“Shut up, you said I could ask,” she said.

“No, I said you could just open your mouth like you were an actual grown up and everything,” Bucky retorted. “She could, really. I’m not sure if she will, however.” He gave Tony a look, like he was expecting some sort of male solidarity sympathy or something.

Which Tony was absolutely not going to give him while Natasha was watching, because Tony liked all his body parts right where they were, unskewered. “What’s the question?” He picked up the nearest tool to fiddle with, because he needed something to do with his hands that was not touching all the gorgeous skin in front of him.

“It’s complicat--”

“It’s not complicated. What’s so hard about ‘would you like to have sex’?” Bucky demanded. “It’s not that complicated, is it?”

DOES NOT COMPUTE. Tony opened his mouth, closed it. Considered some sort of hard-reboot option for brains. “I’m sorry, what?”

“That-- that’s why it’s complicated,” Natasha said. “Look, you broke him. What good is he to either of us if his brain leaks right out?”

Bucky leered. “I can think of a few things-- Ow, stop hitting me, woman.”

“You’re going to have to back up a few lines,” Tony said. He felt like someone had kicked him in the head, only without the pain. “Someone forgot to give me a script.”

“We’ll start with the softball questions,” Natasha said. “You like both women, and men. Bi-- or pansexual. If we’re wrong about that, obviously, the whole question is off the table, but you don’t have a particular objection to… men. Or women. As partners, dating, bed or otherwise?”

Tony had to snort at that. “You researched me, Romanov,” he pointed out. “You’ve seen my sex tapes. All of which were, if somewhat ill-advised, entirely consensual and enthusiastic.”

“See, I told you. If he’s got a problem, it’s not with the gender. So, you want to, or no?” Bucky leaned back against Nat’s thigh, spreading her legs even further to accommodate that impressive body.

“This is where you lose me,” Tony said. “Am I hallucinating? FRIDAY, you’d tell me if I were hallucinating, right?”

“You bet, boss.”

“Forgive him, he has no sense,” Natasha said. “Comes from being frozen so long. His brain, it’s all… freezer burned. See? You don’t do any better than I do. We try-- looking pretty, flirting. You ignore us, both together, or separate. You look, and then look away.”

“See, doll, we think you’re pretty swell,” Bucky said. “And, spending so many years -- both of us -- not gettin’ what we want, we aren’t hung up on… stuff. It’s a indecent proposal, maybe, but we’d like you-- to get with us.” Bucky pointed, like Tony might not know which you he was talking about, or which us.

“It’s all right, if you are not interested,” Natasha said, but there was the slightest pout to those perfect lips. “We have each other, and that is enough. But I’m greedy. I want it all.”

“Fri?” Tony couldn’t quite take his eyes off them.

“Still not hallucinating, boss.”

“The Black Widow and the Winter Soldier want me in a three-way,” Tony summarized, testing the surreality of that statement, tasting its flavor.

“Tony sandwich, extra mayo,” Bucky added, directing that leer at Tony again.

Tony blinked at him. “What is the mayo in this metaphor?” he wondered. “Because I can think of a couple of different-- Wait, never mind, wrong focus. That’s what all the... this has been about?” He demanded, waving a hand at Natasha’s unfairly skimpy bikini.

“He is crude, but to the point, yes,” Natasha said. “We like you. If you like either of us-- together is best, but if only me, then Bucky will content himself with watching, or hearing about it later.”

“Bucky will, will he?” Bucky wondered. “I don’t recall agreeing with being content about that.”

Tony watched them bickering for a moment. “This is for real? You’re not pranking me, or got dared, or something?”

“Why the hell would I do that? I mean I get why Tasha would, she sometimes does things just because someone tells her no--” Bucky reached a hand out. “We like you. There's nothin’ objectionable about me, is there? I mean… look you don't gotta let me down easy or nothin’. If you ain't interested, just say so. We can be, you know, adult about it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Natasha said. “I reserve the right to cry and eat way too much ice cream and drown myself in vodka.”

“I-- Yes. I’m in.” He couldn’t think of a single reason that he’d want to say no to two of the most gorgeous, amazing people he knew.

“Heh, too bad for you,” Bucky said, and for a moment Tony's heart absolutely stopped, here it came, the punchline. Maybe even literally. “No excuse to eat too much ice cream.”

Holy shit, this was real. “Ice cream is its own excuse,” Tony said, talking on autopilot through the spinning daze of his brain. “Uh. Logistics?”

“Tony sandwich,” Bucky said with enthusiasm. “Seems only fair to let you get all the reward, at least the first time.”

“Come here and kiss Bucky so his brain will stop glitching,” Natasha told him. “And I will watch and decide if you get to do it again.”

Tony almost asked, Now? but it got caught in his throat, arrested by Natasha’s expectant look. “Right. That’s... Right.” He put the screwdriver down and slid off the stool, moving toward them through what felt like a dream. Toe to toe with Bucky, feeling the heat baking off their skin, Tony thought, well, if it’s an audition, then I’d better nail it.

Heh. Nail it. His lips pulled slightly into a smirk. He reached up with one hand, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair and pulling Bucky down. He fell into the kiss, tentative at first as they felt each other out, and then more confident.

Bucky turned until he had his back to his girlfriend, her knees still around his hips, as he moved into the kiss, tongue flicking out to test Tony’s reactions, one hand going around Tony’s waist to draw him in even closer, the other sliding down Tony’s shoulder, to his bicep, then around, until Bucky’s fingers were tracing the line between Tony’s tee and his jeans.

It had been a while since he’d been in a threesome (or foursome, or moresome) but not so long that it was weird when Nat started petting them both, her fingers moving curiously from Bucky’s shoulder to Tony’s hair, and then along the back of his neck, fingernails dragging lightly, eliciting a shiver.

Tony finally had to pull away first, panting for breath. “Those of us who are not supersoldiers need to breathe occasionally.” He grinned at Bucky and then looked past Bucky at Nat. “Verdict?”

“We will take you upstairs and demonstrate the supersoldier’s ability to breathe through his ears,” Natasha told him. “And he has a very long-- tongue.”

“Among other things,” Bucky added, easily enough. “Don’t scare him off, Tasha. At least wait t’ panic him after I get my hands down his jeans.”

Tony shook his head. “I’m not panicking. Confused and surprised, but not panicking.” He backed up a step to make space and held out his hands to both of them. “My bed’s the biggest.”

“You lead, then. I’ll follow with the good view,” Bucky said. “Seriously, can I just--” He made a squeeze-gesture in front of Tony, like he was starring on an old-time Charmin commercial.

Tony smirked a little wider. “Don’t damage the goods, but feel free to test the springs.”

Bucky pulled him back in, hands going straight down Tony’s back to explore Tony’s ass. God, Bucky had huge hands, practically spanning the entire expanse of Tony’s cheek, palming him like a basketball at a Globetrotter’s game. “Perfect,” Bucky purred in Tony’s ear.

“Save some for the rest of us,” Natasha told him, like there was a line queuing up or something. She slid one hand into Tony’s back pocket as she hopped down from the workshop table, which did interesting, bouncy things to her anatomy. And Tony was allowed to look, and admire, which was a relief, because he wasn’t sure he could really, actually do anything but. Bucky crossed his arm over Nat’s, reaching into the other back pocket, so they formed an X; one on either side.

Well, okay then. Tony took a step and they moved with him, in tandem, as if they had rehearsed it. Spies and assassins and their freaky ways. Which, Tony thought, would make for very interesting and athletic sex, he suspected. Jesus, how was he even going to keep up?

Mental breakdown later, he told himself firmly, and continued through the workshop to the elevator. “My floor, Fri. Express route.”

There was a pointed silence before the elevator moved, as if Friday was registering some sort of… artificial judginess. He’d thought JARVIS was the only one who preferred his sexcapades to be tame, but maybe Friday had picked up more from her predecessor than Tony had supposed. It didn’t seem to bother Bucky, who was absentmindedly tugging on Natasha’s bikini strap, threatening to spill her out of it entirely.

There was another pointed little pause before the doors opened again, and Tony made a mental note to have a chat with Friday later. Much later. And then he stopped thinking about anything at all that wasn’t the two perfect specimens in front of him.

He reached for Natasha, hand stopping an inch short of her hair. “Okay?”

Natasha took the outstretched hand, planted a delicate kiss in his palm, and then put that palm directly over her breast, pushing herself into the touch. “Yes?”

“Oh, hell yes.” Tony cupped her breast, delicately exploring, testing, finding the most sensitive places, the pressures and movements that made her eyelashes flutter, her mouth fall open in a gasp. He leaned down to kiss her, flicking his tongue against her lip and then opening to her own explorations.

Bucky moved in behind Tony, giving his ass another squeeze and making an utterly adorable squeal of delight. Tony shouldn’t find that cute, should he? That was undignified, or -- whatever it was was going to have to wait, as Bucky reached all the way around, his fingers hauling Natasha even closer. Tony was starting to feel remarkably overdressed for the party, because when he pulled back a little, Bucky had -- or maybe Natasha had -- undone the strap to her bikini top and she was, in fact, spilling out of the tiny thing.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Bucky murmured in Tony’s ear. He knew exactly what to do, making a vee with his fingers to pinch her nipple erect, and then thumbing lightly over the tip while Natasha juddered and shivered and tried to move closer, going up on her toes and whimpering.

Tony couldn’t resist leaning down to lick over that captive nipple, and then moving to the other side, sucking it in, letting his teeth graze just lightly over the skin as he traced circles around it with his tongue. He wrapped his arm around her waist, wanting to feel every shudder and moan.

Finally, laughing and still shivering with too much stimulation, Natasha pushed them both away, swatting at Bucky’s hand. “You promised a very big bed, Mr. Stark,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him like she was some blushing virgin. The tone was convincing enough, even if her casual ease with nudity gave it the lie.

“Also, someone is wearing too much clothing,” Bucky said.

“Absolutely, you’re completely correct,” Natasha said. The bikini bottom unfastened at the sides and she flicked the little scrap of fabric in Bucky’s face before bouncing off in the direction of the bedroom. She didn’t need directions, because, of course she didn’t.

Tony glanced at Bucky, and gestured. “After you. My turn to ogle.”

Tony half-expected Bucky to shuck his shorts with the same gleeful anticipation that he’d done everything else, but suddenly he was flushing, neck red and ears burning. He fumbled with the strings at his swim trunks before shoving them down and stepping awkwardly out of them. “Yeah?” That glorious blush kept going, crawling down Bucky’s chest as he lifted his chin to let Tony look at him.

And wow, was there a lot to look at. “Yeah,” Tony said, letting his eyes linger, even as he reached back to pull his tee over his head. He dropped it to the floor, then unzipped and dropped his jeans as well. The view wasn’t as nice -- Tony was no supersoldier, and on the wrong side of forty-five, to boot -- but he thought he did okay. Bucky’s eyes certainly seemed to agree. “Ready?”

“I’m waiting--” Natasha called from the other room.

“Bad idea to keep her waiting, she gets inventive,” Bucky said.

And, apparently she did, because as they got to the door, she was posed dramatically on Tony’s bed, the comforter kicked onto the floor. She paused, then sunk until a perfect split, legs going from one side of the bed to the other. She bent forward from the waist, tossing her head back to give them a sultry look.

“I’m failing to see the downside to this inventiveness,” Tony observed.

“What do you like, doll?” Bucky wondered, tracing that metal hand up and down Tony’s spine, inspecting the line of it. “Bottom? Top? Middle? On your knees between Tasha’s thighs while I stroke you from behind?”

“I’m flexible,” Tony said, suppressing the shiver from being touched with that hand. “Not as flexible as Natasha, mind you, but who is? You got something you want to try, lay it on me. Or what you said, that sounds great.”

Bucky made a deep, snarling noise right in Tony’s ear. “I will absolutely lay it on you.”

Natasha rolled over, spread across Tony’s bed like an offering. “I like that idea. I get to lay back and let you two do all the work,” she said.

“Why do I doubt that?” Tony wondered. He climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs to nuzzle between her breasts, kissing upward toward her neck, dragging teeth along her earlobe. He propped himself up on one arm and let the other roam over her smooth, creamy skin.

“Mmmm,” Natasha hummed, arching into his touch. “His hands aren’t cold.”

Bucky slid that metal hand down Tony’s back, along the curve of his ass. “Do you think my hand is unpleasantly cold?” Slick, cool fingers explored Tony’s thigh, almost frictionless.

“Uh, no,” Tony said, “but I have an unnatural boner for tech, so I might not be the prevailing opinion there.” He made his way back down to Natasha’s breasts, teasing and toying with them and watching in awe as she twisted and arched under him.

“Your boner doesn’t feel unnatural,” Bucky pointed out, keeping that chilly touch very light-- to avoid pinching with the minute plates in his fingers, probably. He swapped out, warm skin replacing cool metal, and the contrast was enough to make Tony wobble. “It’s interesting. The difference, I mean.”

“Ug, he gets like that,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes with affectionate exasperation. “Give him a condom or a pair of gloves and he’ll stick that finger places it’s really not supposed to be.” Tony wasn’t sure if that was supposed to dissuade him or not.

“I am one hundred percent down for that,” Tony admitted. “Though at the moment...” He wriggled and slid further down the bed so he could drag his mouth down Natasha’s stomach, hand stroking the inside of her thigh. He glanced up at her to make sure she was on board, then flicked his tongue along her folds.

Natasha hummed, her hips rocking up to meet Tony’s mouth with approval. Her hands went into Tony’s hair, tugging lightly, and then her thumbs brushed along his ears. She tasted sweet and tangy. Fresh, like she’d actually been planning on swimming and had showered not more than an hour ago.

Tony almost lost the thread for a moment, as Bucky reached around Tony’s middle, teasing at him with one cool hand and one overly warm one. “You have lube? Condom? I didn’t know if you were actually going to say yes, and… well, there aren’t pockets in a swimsuit for a reason.”

Without lifting his head, Tony made a vague gesture toward the nightstand where he kept such supplies. It had been a long time since he’d done this sort of thing, but he remembered that it was best to get his rhythm established before activities at the other end got too far along, because otherwise he’d get distracted and someone would end up irritated. He spread Natasha’s labia with two fingers and went to work, letting her hands in his hair provide hot-and-cold clues.

Natasha’s legs kept shifting, rubbing against Tony’s arms. Her knees would come up for a bit, squeezing at his shoulders, and then flopping back down again, spreading herself wide for him to work.

“For you, if you need them,” Bucky told him, putting two wrapped condoms near Nat’s shoulder. “And for me--” There was a soft snick as Bucky opened the lube. He drizzled a line down Tony’s crack, working it in with his flesh hand, rubbing along Tony’s hole, up his crack, and then down to his balls, teasing as he went. Circling the opening to Tony’s body and inhaling as Tony shifted. “God, your ass is pretty. Like, sorry, Tasha, but Tony’s got ya beat there.”

“He keeps doing what he’s doing, and he can beat me wherever he likes,” Natasha said, her voice spiraling up toward the end as she gasped and then flexed again.

“I don’t usually discuss the heavier kink until the third date,” Tony quipped, and then went back to what he was doing. He’d always liked going down on a woman, but god, she tasted sweet.

“Pretty sure threesomes count as heavy kink, Tony,” Natasha pointed out. “Although, as you say-- aaah! -- I have read your dossier. Hell, I wrote-- mooost of it.”

Tony squeaked as Bucky leaned over and nipped at the curve of his ass, leaving a spark of teeth, and then spread into welcoming heat. “Lovely.” Bucky’s finger slid around Tony’s hole again, and then breached him. “Like that, do you?”

“Mm-hm,” Tony hummed. Which seemed to do interesting things to Natasha, given the way she gasped, so he did it again.

It was easy to lose himself in the push and pull of bodies, the tastes and smells and sensations. He pushed forward into Natasha and back into Bucky and let the rhythm take over the endless whirring of his brain.

Bucky breached him, nice and slow, and dear Tesla, thick as hell. He reached around Tony’s middle to stroke him, keep him hard and eager. It was a little awkward; Bucky was left handed, but Tony supposed that lube in those finger joints would be a bitch to clean up. “Oh, you feel so tight,” Bucky murmured. “You should see this, Tasha--”

“Take -- ah! A picture. It’ll last longer,” Natasha scolded, poking Bucky in the ribs with a long leg. Bucky caught her ankle, which did interesting things to both the way she was positioned, and the way Bucky moved into Tony. When Natasha groaned, and pushed her other leg up, Bucky rocked all three of them together, using his grip on Natasha’s legs to give him leverage.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, because that was definitely different. “You two are going to be the death of me, but at least I’ll die happy.” He reached up and found Bucky’s hair, wrapping his fingers in it and tugging.

“Don’t die,” Bucky told him. “If you die, you’ll miss the good bits.” He rocked slowly, perfectly, in and out of Tony’s body. Under Tony, Natasha could barely move, her legs wide spread and pinned, glorious.

Being held like that seemed to make her more sensitive, every lick and stroke met with desperate, pleading gasps as she twisted and moved. Trying to get closer or squirm away, and neither worked. She let loose a torrent of Russian that Tony didn’t quite catch, but made Bucky laugh, which-- oh, that felt amazing, the way they all vibrated together.

God, Tony wasn’t going to last very much longer if this kept up. He redoubled his efforts, determined to bring Natasha off before he succumbed. Bucky was moving faster now, and for a few moments, they worked together like a well-calibrated machine, every movement serving the greater purpose of the whole. It was beautiful, it was sublime, it was intense, as close to flying as Tony could get with his feet on the ground.

Natasha threw her head back, practically arching off the bed, her whole body going rigid. Air hissed in and out of her lungs, and then she screamed, a strangled, glorious gasp. She kicked one leg loose from Bucky’s hold and-- ow, that was probably going to leave a mark, but it was good, because she was completely out of control, oblivious to everything except the way she shuddered and cried out.

Bucky had gone still while she came, watching intently over Tony’s shoulder at every movement.

When Natasha came back to herself, she grinned at him, pulled her knees up. “Wanna finish off in me?”

Tony shuddered. “Oh, yeah.” He scrabbled for one of the condoms Bucky had tossed up earlier and rolled it on with hands shaking from need. He climbed up, positioning himself, acutely aware of Bucky still pressed against his back, and slid into her. Heat and wet and a perfect tension that crawled down his spine and lodged in his balls. “Oh, fuck.”

Their well-oiled machine lost its rhythm for a bit. “Let me drive,” Bucky growled in Tony’s ear, and he surrendered to Bucky’s grip on his hips, the way they all moved together, instead of tangling up. They got going again, and it was a continuous line of Bucky sliding into him, and he pushed into Natasha, and then out again, perfect harmony, sweet and slick and so, so hot.

“There you go, there you are, my pretty Tony,” Bucky crooned.

Natasha moved with them, hips rising to meet Tony’s strokes. Her hand was on Tony’s waist, and Bucky linked his fingers with hers, a sweetly innocent gesture.

With Bucky’s relentless pace driving them, the heat built quickly. Tony tucked his head down and tried to prolong it, but there was only so much he could do to stave off his climax with so much perfect sensation surrounding him. He gasped, caught his breath, gasped again, and the world went white for a while -- a few seconds, or an hour, or a year. “Oh god, oh god.”

Behind him, Bucky made a sound, some sound, and then he smacked Tony’s ass once, sharply. Not enough to really hurt, but it stung for a second, and then the whole area flooded, hot and perfect. Bucky jerked, once, twice, and then went utterly still, exhaling with a low, shaky moan.

Tony tried to catch his breath. “So that’s a thing we did.” He gave Bucky a minute to breathe, then nudged him gently. “Off. My arms are giving out and Natasha does not want to be crushed.”

Bucky peeled himself off Tony’s back, dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, before collapsing onto the mattress. “Yeah, that’s a thing we did, all right,” he agreed.

Natasha squirmed out from under Tony, letting him fall face down in between them. “It was a good decision.”

“I need to record that,” Bucky said, and going down to cup Tony’s ass fondly. “She doesn’t credit me with a lot of sense.”

“Two thumbs up, five stars on Yelp,” Tony agreed, not bothering to roll over. He wondered what happened next, but couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.

Natasha rolled over, cuddling against Tony’s side. She reached over his back and linked her hand with Bucky’s again. “We should,” she said, kissing Tony’s ear, his neck, shoulder, “snuggle for a while. Take a nap. And then you will feed us, since we worked so hard. And then, we will figure out what we’re doing next.”

“What’s to figure?” Bucky asked, voice muffled by one of the pillows. “We are dating each other, and we are dating Tony. It’s not complicated. She always makes it complicated.”

“Tony may have opinions of his own, you know,” Natasha said, tart. “That don’t always agree with yours.”

Bucky scoffed, then immediately looked concerned. “I will be needing all that ice cream you were talking about earlier if this is a one and done.”

Tony thought about it for a moment. “No reason we can’t have ice cream and be dating,” he offered.

“Ice cream as a date?” Natasha suggested. “We can do that. I like this idea, I’m happy to be a part of it.”

#mcukinkbingo #winterironwidow #tony x bucky x nat #lemon

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varietydisco · 5 years

Text

Bunny in a Bunny Suit

Characters: Arthur Morgan & John Marston, Hosea Matthews, Dutch van der Linde, Susan Grimshaw, Mac & Davey Callander Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Pre-Canon, Family dynamics, Trans Male Characters, Vague descriptions of non-sexual nudity, Silly but not technically crack Word Count: 3k

Description: Arthur tells young John an unfortunate lie. (Namesake: Bunny in a Bunny Suit by Simone Whittaker)

Part 3 of the Coming of Age series

1885

The first thing Arthur was greeted with upon riding into their temporary home— an abandoned, but well-off ranch on the plains— was Susan trudging over. She wore a lemon-soured expression that made Arthur briefly consider turning around and heading back for the mountains.

John leaned to one side and looked around Arthur’s shoulder to see what was happening.

“Afternoon, miss Grimshaw,” Arthur greeted. He touched the brim of his hat as he brought his horse to a slow stop beside the pasture fence.

As he lifted his leg, about to swing himself off the horse, Susan hurried her pace and waved her arms.

“Oh, no you don’t!” She exclaimed. “Don’t you boys even think of coming in here.”

“What? How come?” Arthur asked. “Did we get evicted while we was gone?”

Susan’s war-path came to a sudden stop and she huffed. With one finger held up at the boys, she turned back on her trail and went for a bucket of supplies hanging on a fence post a few feet away.

“…What’s she got?” John whispered.

“Somethin’ to beat us with, probably.” Arthur replied.

Bucket in hand, Susan stormed her way back over to the boys. Her expression never shifted once.

“I could smell you both comin’ a mile off,” She spat. “Just take one look at yourselves— you’re both disgusting.”

“I missed you, too.” Arthur said. “And why yes, we are safe and sound. Thanks for askin’.”

Susan huffed. “Take this down to the pond and go wash yourselves, before you even think of comin’ into the house.” She shoved the bucket up towards John, who awkwardly took it. The boy shot Arthur a quizzical look, his brows furrowed, then set it in his lap.

“You can’t be serious.”

Susan crossed her arms firmly. “Don’t test me, Morgan.”

Arthur groaned. He took his hat off and hooked it onto the horn of his saddle. His face was caked with dirt and sweat, and so were his clothes.

“We just finished a three-day huntin’ trip gatherin’ food for you lot, and we don’t even get a thank you.” He waved his hand back at John. “Marston here even caught his first rabbit. Not that you cared to ask any.”

“Good for him, doesn’t change that stench that followed you both home,” Susan made a shooing motion with her hand. “Leave what you caught here and get your asses down to the pond to wash. Don’t bother coming back until you’ve scrubbed every inch.”

“Lord Almighty,” Arthur mumbled. He reached back and elbowed John. “Hand that bucket over and unload the horse.”

John furrowed his brows.

“Why me?”

“‘Cause you smell the worse, and I want Grimshaw to get a good whiff.”

Susan scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, Arthur.”

Arthur chuckled at that, while John eventually forked over the bucket and slid off the back of Boadicea. Silently, Arthur got a kick out of watching John fumble to untie their kill from the wagon and less silently did he enjoy watching Susan pluck at strands of John’s greasy hair while shaking her head in disgust.

Once the whole ordeal was done, John climbed back up, and the boys hit the trail again. As they approached the pond a few minutes later, John spoke up and said, bitterly, “That Grimshaw sure is a spitfire, isn’t she?”

“Not exactly the word I’d use to describe her most days, but that’ll work alright,” Arthur replied.

He rode Boadicea down a small, grassy slope which lead them to the pond’s bank. Mosquitoes and other bugs danced over the water’s silky-smooth surface. A frog leapt over a lily pad, and some birds chirped from the surrounding trees. The scene was pretty enough to have been a painting; Arthur only felt a little bad that they were about to use this pond to wash their asses.

Arthur pulled the horse to a stop and motioned his hand to John.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. Jump in.”

John faltered a second. “You ain’t serious. Clothes an’ all?”

“Naw, you’re right.” Arthur swung his leg and slid off the horse’s back. “Take your clothes off. We’ll have to burn ‘em at this point anyway, no sense in gettin’ them damp.”

John’s cheeks reddened. “Not you, too.”

“Yeah, me too. Now that Grimshaw’s mentioned it, and I’m standing down-wind of you, I can’t help noticin’ how ripe you are.”

Arthur swaggered towards the water. He made swift work of his coat and his shirt, both of which were promptly tossed aside onto some rocks. He scanned the water all the while and savoured the feeling of the early summer sun on his body.

He figured this place wouldn’t be too bad of a spot to stay for a while, assuming they didn’t plan any big commotions yet. The law was getting stricter about things like that and people like them, and frankly Arthur could have used a little peace and quiet for a while.

And there was that sweet girl he met in town— Mary Gillis. If nothing else, Arthur wouldn’t mind sticking around just to see her again. If he kept a low enough profile for a while, he might even have the chance to ask her out for a dinner, or something to that extent.

Caught in his own thoughts, Arthur stopped paying any attention to John, who was slowly taking care of his own clothes. Arthur only came back to reality when John announced, “Don’t look, okay?”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t even wanna look at you dressed. I promise you, I ain’t lookin’ now.”

Keeping good to his word regardless, Arthur turned halfway to the side, putting his back fully to John. He kicked his boots off, then draped his pants over the rock with his shirt. Eager to get washed and return to camp, Arthur took off for the water.

It was warm at first against his feet as he waded in, though the farther in he went, the cold seemed to creep up his hairy thighs and straight through his bones. Instead of lingering on it, Arthur took a dive into the shallow water. He swam for a bit, letting the water rush over him and clear his senses; when he needed to breathe again, his toes found the soft, muddy bottom of the pond and he stood upright. Arthur burst to the surface, water cascading down his heavy-set body. He glanced around, wiping the water out of his eyes, and then fully turned to the shore.

“Hurry up and get in, Marston.” He called out.

John clutched the bucket to his chest unsurely. He still had his underwear on, but if he wanted to ride back to camp with a chapped ass, that was going to be his own issue. After a few long beats, John started wading out into the water.

He got to about his knees before stopping.

“It’s too cold,” he complained.

“S’ not so bad once you get in further. Also, shut up and throw me some soap.”

John rooted through the bucket with a grumble. He then tossed a bar to Arthur underhanded; Arthur lurched forward to catch it, but just barely.

“Christ!” Arthur scoffed. “What a shitty hand you’ve got.”

John frowned hard. His cheeks went red again as he dumped the bucket of its contents— another bar of soap and a wash brush— then filled it instead with water. He poured it over his head while Arthur started soaping himself up.

“Can’t throw, can barely shoot… It’s a wonder what Dutch sees in you at all.” Arthur called out. “Guess he likes projects.”

John’s cheeks flared hotter as annoyance built inside of him. Soaking wet, he threw the bucket aside and snatched up the soap instead.

“At least I’m not a butterball,” John snapped.

Arthur snorted a laugh. Quickly, he dunked his head underwater, then worked the soap into his hair.

“Butterball, huh? That’s a big word for you.”

“Would you just fuck off already?”

Arthur laughed again. It was so easy to get on John’s nerves, it almost made him understand all the grief Hosea and Dutch used to give him.

“I oughta wash your mouth out with soap. Save Grimshaw doin’ it herself.”

“I’d like to see you try, fatty.”

Arthur cocked his brow. For a long moment he stared at John, quietly sizing him up, before a smirk took his lips. John busied himself with scrubbing and soaping, so he didn’t notice Arthur approaching at first.

“I reckon you should come take a dip with me, Marston.”

John’s eyes widened with fear. He took half a step back, his hands going up.

“Don’t you dare. I can’t swim, you know that.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Arthur grinned. “Promise I won’t throw you out far… Just enough to let the eels get a bite in of your toes.”

“That ain’t funny.” John warned. He took another step back.

“Sure it is. At least to me.”

John stared at Arthur for half a moment, then turned and bolted for the shore.

Arthur gave immediate chase, laughing.

“Come on, not afraid of a little water, are ya?”

John was quick to scramble ashore, crying out, “Don’t you dare!” all the while. Arthur could have easily chased him the whole way, and maybe even caught the little bastard, but he started laughing too hard to make it far.

Arthur stopped a few feet from the shore, hands on his knees, while John scampered away to go hide behind an indifferent Boadicea. Arthur took a long moment to catch his breath, before he stood back up straight. He pushed his wet hair out of his face, then cleared his throat.

“Goddamn, you’re somethin’ else, boy.” Arthur laughed. He paused, smiling, before noting the weird expression on John’s face.

John’s head poked out barely over the top of Boadicea’s saddle. His brows were knitted tight together and his mouth was slightly open with disbelief.

Arthur’s smile slipped off. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure something wasn’t coming up behind him; sure enough, all he saw was an expanse of water and the swaying, shady trees around its edge. He looked back at John, lips pursed.

“What? You got a problem?”

“Where’s…” John started, his voice slow and confused. Maybe a little scared. “Where’s your dick at?”

Arthur glanced down, mostly confused himself. The water came up to the middle of his thighs, gently lapping at the back of his legs. He took half a second to process everything, before he realized. John was so fresh in the gang, he didn’t know a damn thing.

Immediately, Arthur knew the right thing to do. He should sit down, give John the whole spiel Hosea had given him years ago, about people and norms and bodies…

But he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, Arthur gasped in fake terror.

“Oh my god. It must’ve fallen off.”

John’s voice cracked as he exclaimed, “What?!”

“I can’t believe this,” Arthur continued, voice taut with faux panic. “I had it just a second ago— oh my god. One of the eels must’ve taken it.”

John’s face went white as a sheet. His body was stiff.

“All these years, I thought Hosea was pullin’ my leg when he said your dick would fall off if you played with it too much, but he was tellin’ me the truth this whole time!”

“You ain’t for real,” John managed, weakly. His own voice was high-strung with panic he tried to keep control of.

“Look, you can even see for yourself. It sure as shit ain’t there!”

That much was true. Arthur had a mat of hair that went down from his large chest to his stomach and between his legs, but there was nothing else to be seen. John desperately wanted to believe that this was a practical joke, but there was no conceivable way he could think of for Arthur to pull it off. Literally.

Except, after a few long, dramatic pauses, Arthur cracked. He barked a laugh, one which made John’s shoulders tighten and his cheeks flare cherry red. Before he could snap at Arthur, Arthur pushed all his hair back away from his face and waved his hand.

“Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya,” Arthur drawled. “That old thing fell off years ago.”

The annoyance at being laughed at evaded John’s face. In its wake, his eyes snapped open wide again as the colour flooded from his cheeks.

“Yessir, probably when I was about, oh… Twelve, thirteen.” Arthur turned around, trudging back to the water. “I shook it too many times whenever I went to take a piss and one day the damn thing just popped right off in my hand. But never mind that.”

Arthur splashed around, rinsing the soap out of his hair and off his body. Dropping the topic altogether, he said, “Best hurry up an’ finish washin’, Marston; supper won’t wait on our accounts.”

Uneasily, John trailed back to the water. He didn’t have an appetite for supper any more.

—30—

“If I may,” Dutch announced, as he stepped from the stairs to the open main-floor of the cottage. “I’d like to call a meeting for a moment.”

Hosea, Susan, Mac, and Davey sat around the big dining table in the center of the room, caught amid a poker game. Arthur was across the room, in the kitchen corner, digging through one of their boxes of liquor. Oil lamps burned on the walls, lighting the room in a flickering glow. Smoke hung heavy in the air.

Hosea was the first to look up first from his cards to Dutch. He waved him over.

“Only if you make it quick,” Hosea replied. His eyes returned to the table. “We were having an intellectual and in-depth conversation about politics before Arthur returned, so he didn’t feel left out for not understanding.”

A couple chuckles came from the table. They continued to play as Dutch came around and slid into what was presumably Arthur’s empty spot between Hosea and Davey.

“This involves you too, Arthur, so pay attention,” Dutch said.

“I can hear you just fine. Go ahead.” Arthur grumbled, as he pawed fruitlessly through a rattling box of empty bottles.

“Alright. Now I want adult, honest answers here,” Dutch began. He picked up Arthur’s cards, looked them over, then showed them to Hosea. “I just spent an hour painstakingly talking to the boy, John, about something he was told recently.”

Hosea scanned the cards quickly and nodded silently. Dutch turned them to Davey.

“Alright. What was it?” Hosea asked. He pushed a sizable number of coins into the pot in the center of the table.

Arthur, notably, was silent in the background.

Dutch placed Arthur’s cards back down. He kept his face stony as he could. “Someone, supposedly, convinced the boy that his pecker was going to fall off.”

Davey laughed first, loud and hard. Mac quickly followed with his own chortle. While they both got a kick out of the idea, Susan bit back a grin and Hosea smirked, nodding to his cards. Arthur, in the background, didn’t even try to can his snorting laughter.

Dutch fought hard to keep a stern expression. His lips twitched.

“This ain’t no laughing matter. That boy was scared shitless.”

Mac’s hand shot out to grab onto Hosea’s shoulder. He gripped it, while the rest of his body shook with laughter. Hosea laughed himself, though quieter and more contained.

“You boys are awful,” Susan chided with a smirk. She swatted Davey on the shoulder. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Davey kept laughing. He had already been hitting the bottle since noon, so his laughter carried farther and longer than anyone else’s. “Don’t hit me! I didn’t do it. Wish I had, though.”

“Here, here.” Mac replied.

Dutch turned to his left. “Hosea?”

Hosea patted Mac’s hand, shaking his head. “I would’ve told you already if it were me.”

“And it wasn’t me,” Dutch said, “So it had to have been one of you unlawful bunch.”

Dutch’s eyes roamed across the table and then settled on Arthur in the corner. Innocently, he continued to root through the box with one hand, while he used the other to wipe his mouth.

Dutch narrowed his eyes a little.

“Was it you, Arthur?”

“Me? No, never.” But Arthur couldn’t keep his straight face this time. His cheeks split with a crooked smirk behind his hand.

Dutch scoffed.

“Your poker face is laughable, son. That’s why you’re losing so badly.”

“Actually, it’s ‘cause I’m playin’ with a room full of cheaters… But sure. We’ll go with that.”

Dutch waved his hand.

“Go up there and apologize to the boy, will you? Hell, apologize to me, too, because I spent an hour trying to convince him otherwise and speaking on behalf of topics I am not qualified for.”

“I’m sorry you had to be in the same room as him for that long.”

“Arthur!” Dutch snapped. “Get going! Be the bigger man.”

Arthur had a little, stupid smirk about him as he left the kitchen and crossed the room instead. He slapped Dutch’s shoulder as he walked by.

“You know, if Hosea had done this to me, you wouldn’t have said a word,” Arthur commented. “How come Marston gets all the special treatment?”

“If Hosea had done it, I wouldn’t have to handle it.”

That was all Dutch had to say on the matter, so the rest of the group quieted around the table. Arthur trudged up the stairs, feet pounding the whole way, and eventually they disappeared. Once he did, Dutch tossed Arthur’s cards aside.

“You’re handling the next crisis,” He said to Hosea.

“I figured about as much.”

Then, with a smile, Hosea laid down his winning hand and reaped his rewards from the middle of the table.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #my fic #coming of age series

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shan282-ao3 · 5 years

Text

The Devil Has Come Ch12

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Far Cry 5 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed Characters: Original Female Character(s), John Seed, Jacob Seed, Joseph Seed, Faith Seed, Staci Pratt, Nick Rye, Sharky Boshaw, Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Original Male Character(s), Kim Rye, Boomer (Far Cry), Joey Hudson, Earl Whitehorse Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Character Death, Slow Burn Series: Part 1 of Bottom of The River

Summary: They should never have been there. Whitehorse and Pratt were right when they spoke against going to Eden’s Gate. They should have left The Project alone. They’d started something and there was no going back now. The lamb had broken the first seal and the deputy had been helpless to stop her.

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Thomas finished off his cigarette before getting into the car, something Sarah was very grateful for. She had no problem with him smoking, she just didn’t feel like sitting in a car filled with it. He started up the truck that she’d driven in and instantly flipped the radio station.

“What? No Peggie radio? You sure you’re a member of the Project?” Sarah teased and Thomas just rolled his eyes and turned the volume up. The guitar intro to Hot Blood started and Sarah smiled a little, their local radio DJ had good taste sometimes, she’d give him that.

Thomas’s head bopped along to the song as he drove away from her house, he was lip-syncing the lyrics. Sarah grinned and joined him, eventually belting out the words along with him, swapping parts back and forth until the chorus. For the rest of the drive to the ranch, she forgot they were in the middle of a war.

The song ended and something much more low-key began and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. Thomas reached forward turned the volume down as they turned onto the property, stopping when a cultist waved him down.

“What’s up?” He asked, leaning slightly out the window.

“Brother John wants you to report to the house immediately, it’s urgent. He and The Father are awaiting your arrival.” The man said, peering past Thomas to give Sarah a suspicious look. Thomas nodded and thanked the man before rolling the window back up and driving forward.

“Shit.” He cursed, looking over at Sarah quickly, his fists clenched the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

“Joseph’s here?” Sarah asked, worrying anxiously at a loose thread on her shirt. She had yet to meet the infamous cult leader in person and was honestly scared of what he would do to her when he found here.

“Guess so. Get down, move your chair back as far as you can and hide on the floor until I come to get you. I’ll crack the windows. If he finds out you’re here, why you’re here. Well, you won’t be the only one in trouble. He already doubts John.” He muttered the last sentence and Sarah wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it. She wanted to ask what he meant by it but she thought the better of it, instead doing what he’d said.

The floor was cramped and uncomfortable but she’d survive if it meant Joseph wouldn’t find her. She just had to stay quiet. Thomas pulled the car to a slow stop, careful not to jostle her too much.

“I’ll be back.” He whispered the promise, not looking at her, and climbed out of the car. He stopped to order another cultist to keep everyone away from the truck.

“Brother Thomas, you’re back.” John’s voice called out, reaching across the distance and sending chills up Sarah’s back.

“I apologize for my lateness. I ran into a little trouble on the way back.”

“That explains the truck.” John’s voice had gotten quieter, but he was still close enough for Sarah to hear him, though just barely. “I trust you delivered my message to the interested party?”

“Of course, even brought back something for later.”

“Oh, I’m intrigued? Sadly it’ll have to wait, The Father is inside. We’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

Their voices faded from earshot and Sarah was left alone on the floor of the truck, her legs jammed into her ribcage and back curved uncomfortably. She barely fit, her legs were too fucking long. Very rarely did she hate her height, being tall was fun, but right now she would give anything not to be 5’10”.

To pass the time she began counting footsteps of the people outside, figuring out which were repeating steps and which were new. When Thomas got back she was going to have to ask how many guards were here right now, her count was 27 which would be more than the last few times she’d been here but made sense with Joseph’s visit.

“I will see you both soon.” The words woke Sarah from her uncomfortable dozing. It was calming and inviting, a voice that could only belong to Joseph Seed. She didn’t dare peek out to see him, not wanting to risk her own life just yet.

There was more parting conversation before she heard his surprisingly light footsteps move past the truck and further down the road. The click of a car door shutting and tires skidding announced his departure and plunged the world into a chill silence.

Sarah counted the minutes as nothing happened, no one outside the car spoke or moved. 1, 2, 3, 4 minutes. Finally, someone broke the silence, a single cough, and the world seemed to spring back into action.

Gravel crunched underfoot as someone approached the truck, Sarah did her best to shrink down as low as possible.

“Let’s go, deputy,” Thomas said as he swung open her door, his hand outstretched to help her pry herself from the floor.

“You left me in there for a long fucking time,” Sarah complained, cringing at the crunch of her bones and rolling her neck. For only being 30 years old, she felt fucking old some times.

“Quit the whining John’s waiting inside.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and led her towards the front door. She was tempted to shrug it off but knew he was only doing his job so she complied.

John wasn’t waiting at the door for her as Sarah had half expected, instead she found him sitting at the table bent over some paperwork. He glanced up with a look of frustration before smiling when he saw her. He pushed the paperwork away and stood, walking towards her with his hands slightly outstretched.

“To what do I owe this lovely surprise?” John asked, his voice alone bringing warmth to Sarah’s chest. She did her best to ignore what that could mean.

“I needed a distraction.” She answered, stepping away from Thomas to stand in front of John. John grabbed one hand, running his thumb along her wrist.

“I’m afraid you have awful timing. I have duties to attend to before I can provide a distraction.” He looked genuinely disappointed and let go of her hand, turning to go back to his paperwork.

Sarah stood awkwardly where he’d left her before following. He sat down and against her better judgment she leaned over and draped her arms across his shoulders, resting her chin on the top of his head.

“Can I still stay? I can’t go back out there, I pissed the wrong people off.”

John looked up and she moved off his head so she could see his face. His expression was unreadable, but after a few silent seconds, he offered another smile and pulled the chair beside him out.

“Just don’t be too much of distraction, please. The sooner I get this stuff done the sooner we can attend to more personal matters.” He had a sly smirk on his face, Sarah shook her head and took the seat beside him.

John returned to his paperwork, leaving Sarah to find her own way of entertaining herself. She idly tapped her fingers on the table, looking around the room for something to do. She’d just begun the drum solo to Bastile’s Pompeii when John’s hand closed on her wrist, silencing her tapping. He gave her an irritated look and Sarah withdrew her hands, lacing them in front of her.

With a small sigh and shake of his head, John stood, pulling her with him. His hand wrapped around her’s and he walked her into the living room, stopping in front of a bookshelf.

“Pick something and make yourself comfortable.” He squeezed her hand once more before returning to the dining table. Sarah watched him until he was blocked from view by the fireplace before finally turning to the bookshelf.

The bookshelf was filled with all sorts of titles. She found a few copies of the Book of Joseph, running her fingers down the pristine white and gold spines before moving on. She settled on a worn-out copy of The Catcher in the Rye and took it with her to the couch.

Unlacing her boots, she tossed them behind her in the direction of the front door and pulled her feet up onto the couch. She settled back into the pillowed and opened the book to the first page, she couldn’t help but smile at the wear and tear from being read so often.

John dropped onto the couch beside her with an exhausted huff. Sarah moved from her spot in the corner to sit cross-legged beside him, closing the book and putting it down.

“You’re done?” She asked, glancing back towards the table.

“For now. Tomorrow I’ve got—“ He paused and shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, you came here for a reason.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and his lips found her exposed collarbone.

“John?” She tugged lightly on his hair, pulling him away from her skin. He looked at her with tired eyes. “We don’t have to do that. We can just sit here, these last two hours have been distraction enough.”

John’s eyes filled with confusion, his brow and nose scrunched as he attempted to find the trap in her words. Sarah gave him a pitiful smile and tugged on his shoulders until he allowed her to lower his head to her lap.

“Do you read this often?” She asked idly, holding the book and opening it back to her page.

“When I was younger.” He looked up at her with guarded eyes, obviously not used to something so domestic as the situation she’d just created for them.

“I read it for school once, I liked it. It was banned in most schools but my teacher let us read it anyways.” She felt John nod below her.

“It was banned at my high school too. My English teacher gave it to me at the end of the year.” Sarah ran the fingers on her free hand idly through his hair and he closed his eyes after a minute. “The main character reminded me of Jacob sometimes.” He mumbled, the silence of the room meant Sarah heard him perfectly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” His tone was heavy and he stayed silent after that. Sarah didn’t press for more information, from what she’d heard from people around the county and from what he’d said in his bunker she knew he had a shitty childhood.

Sarah leaned as far back into the seat as she could and smiled when John wiggled around to get more comfortable. She didn’t hesitate to return her free hand to his hair to resume her stroking of his hair. It was really soft, she was tempted to steal his hair care products.

“Mmh.” John groaned, his voice tired. Sarah let out an amused huff and looked away from her book and down at him. His eyes were closed and while he didn’t look completely at peace, but he was calmer than normal.

“Didn’t you sleep last night?”

“No.” He shook his head and his brow furrowed, he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “I woke up when you were leaving, couldn’t sleep after that. I took Affirmation out for a flight.”

Sarah nodded in response even though she knew he couldn’t see it. She now knew two things, John had been awake when she’d snuck out and he must be a light sleeper because she’d made sure she was quiet.

“Sorry I woke you up.” She offered and got a dismissive grunt in response. Ten minutes had passed before she realized the man in her lap had passed out. She didn’t dare move, John had looked dead on his feet. If he wanted to get a few hours of sleep while she finished his book she was fine with it.

A hand on her shoulder woke Sarah up. The book had fallen from her hand onto the floor, her free hand was still laced in John’s previously perfectly styled hair. She blinked tiredly at the face above her until it came into focus. Thomas stood above her with a crooked smile.

“Hungry?” He waved a frozen burrito over her head, she felt her mouth water. She hadn’t had one in months, the drive Missoula wasn’t worth the drive to get the good ones and the ones in all of the Hope County corner stores were crap.

Sarah nodded somewhat frantically and as carefully as possible moved John off her lap. She stood slowly, making sure she hadn’t woken the man. He mumbled something, his nose scrunched up, but fell silent again and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

Thomas was already halfway to the kitchen when she caught up with him. She took her time now that she didn’t have to think about John’s inquiring stare to admire his house. It was tastefully rustic she decided, a stark difference from her mostly modern interior. Where she had meaningless pictures landscapes decorating her wall, he had antlers delicately surrounded by what she was certain were bliss flowers. Her house was a monochrome palette of white grey and the occasional splash of blue while his was all wooden and warmth. She decided after some brief thought that she loved it.

She stepped into the kitchen, still looking around in slight awe, and sat on the counter. Thomas watched her with an amused smile as he pulled plates down and an extra burrito from John’s freezer.

“I get it.” He said, his tone giving Sarah the impression that he’d just come to some great realization.

“Get what?” She let her confusion show, kicking her shoes off and pulling her legs up so she was cross-legged on the counter.

“Why he likes having you around.” Thomas smirked slightly, his tone implying more than Sarah’s tired brain was comfortable deciphering. Regardless she felt a blush cover her cheeks and she looked away from him. Her stomach twisted in knots she tried to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Where the hell do you get all the cigarettes?”

“John smuggles them in for me. It’s the one vice he’s let me keep. I can’t fuck, can’t drink, can’t curse God, but I can smoke. I take solace in the little things.” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world like he hadn’t had his freedom ripped away from him by Joseph and his tenants.

“Didn’t you drink with me earlier?” Sarah gave him an amused looked and he returned it.

“If John can break the rules and fuck you senseless then I can have an occasional drink. ‘Sides I’ve got to go through the whole confession process weekly because of the smoking, might as well add a few extra sins to the list while I’m at it. I’m already sinning, what’s the harm in sinning a bit more?” He shrugged and pulled a plate from the microwave, walking it over to her before putting his own in the microwave.

“Guess that makes sense. Do you really believe in all of this?” She made a vague sweeping gesture, hoping he understood that she wasn’t talking about John’s ranch. She took a bite of the food and savored the delicious flavor, obviously, it would have been better not microwaved but she’d take what she could get at this point.

“No, I don’t believe God has a plan for us, I don’t think Joseph can save my soul. But I believe in him and John and Jacob, even Faith. I was never much of a believer in anything, Joseph showed me how freeing it was to believe in something besides yourself.” Thomas told her, his voice light and bordering and peaceful. “They gave me a purpose and family to look out for. I’ll sound cliche for a second but I was lost, in a haze of smoke and bar fighting, and they found me and pulled me into the light.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows and tried not to laugh at his last comment. He’d been right about it sounding like the biggest fucking cliche.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He snapped but his tone was playful. “It’s true. I was a shittier cop than you and no offense but you’re awful.”

Sarah clutched her chest in mock offense. “I am not, I do my job. And since when were you a cop?”

“The bare minimum maybe, but no more than that. Pretty sure you’ve been lazying around your house for the past week while you left Whitehorse and Rook to do all the work.” Thomas joked, leaning against the counter across from her and eating his own food. “I was a cop back home, my off duty time was spent smoking, drinking, and fighting the assholes at the bar who were pissed at me for locking up their buddies.”

“Hmm.” Sarah couldn’t deny that she’d been a shitty deputy as of late. She was a little grateful to hear that Whitehorse was still alive and kicking and felt guilty that he hadn’t crossed her mind once since the helicopter crash. It was true that she’d left the problems of all of Hope County on Rook’s shoulders, suddenly Rook’s demeanor towards her made a bit more sense.

“Guess I have been pretty shitty, huh?” She pulled at a loose thread on her jeans, guilt covering her features.

Thomas shrugged for a second time that night and took her plate, putting it in the sink to be washed later, likely by someone of a much lower rank. “We’re all allowed to be shitty every now and then. It’s good to be selfish sometimes.”

Sarah felt a wave of sorrow rush over her, his words so similar to what Staci had said to her back at the Veteran’s Center when she’d been with Jacob. “I suppose.” She slipped off the counter and searched through the cabinets until she found a glass, filling it with water before sitting on the counter again. The pair fell into a comfortable silence.

#the devil has come #tdhc #deputy sarah lamb #sarah lamb #far cry 5 #ao3 #ao3 feed

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