hello i am sitting in my dorm living room just seething over the existence of ai art. WHy. why. why wh yhy why why why. personally i think that we should be able to kill people who are perpetuating this madness. in a game. kill them in a game. ai is the most fucking telling consequence of an overproductive capitalist society we're all so fucking obsessed with getting results that we sacrifice quality for six-fingered soulless abonimations through theft and pedantics. like shut up and gouge out your eyes so that youll realize theres more to life than an obscene quantity of looks-good-from-a-distance production. anyways
by: mldrgrl
Rating: R
Summary: Hank wakes up after The Fall. Was it a dream, or not?
Hank felt groggy and a bit disoriented when he opened his eyes. His mouth was dry and tasted like an old sock. The ceiling fan above him turned at high speed, clicking and shaking from the effort. His skin felt taut and rough with dried sweat.
With a groan, Hank pushed himself off the couch. He stretched his tight muscles and then scratched at his itching ribs. He yawned and clucked his tongue from the awful taste in his mouth. He remembered Stella telling him to brush his teeth before he found her.
“Stella?” he said, so quietly that he barely even heard his own voice. He was still afraid she wasn’t there. Though he was pretty sure last night wasn’t a dream, he couldn’t be certain.
Hank trudged towards the bedroom. He was too old to get so hammered. He used to be able to shrug off a night of heavy drinking so easily, the hangover just a mild inconvenience, but now he got achy and lethargic like an arthritic old man. At least he didn’t have a headache or nausea.
Stella was asleep in the bed, so at least he hadn’t hallucinated her. The bedclothes were pushed off the bed and the ceiling fan was on high in there as well. She was on her stomach, her left arm and leg bent frog-like, hugging his pillow. Her thin white camisole was bunched up, exposing the small of her back and the left side of her panties had ridden up past the curve of her butt cheek. He wanted to crawl up onto the bed over her and sink down onto her and into her, but he felt gross and hungover and he needed to clean up a bit first.
He started with relieving the pressure on his bladder, groaning in both agony and relief as he pissed last night’s whiskey away. He brushed his teeth next and then splashed some water on his face and chest. His stubble scraped against his hands and he considered shaving, but Stella liked him unshaven sometimes. He smelled his underarms and put a little deodorant on because, though he didn’t stink, he didn’t smell fresh as a daisy either.
Stella hadn’t moved from where he left her. Being a light sleeper, no matter what he did, she was going to wake immediately, so he started by crawling over her on his hands and knees and licking the top of her shoulder. Her body jerked slightly under him, but she relaxed immediately and grunted.
“Mmph,” she said.
“Good morning, sunshine.” He crawled back a little and then sank his teeth lightly into the fleshiest part of her partially exposed butt cheek.
Stella’s muscles twitched and her right leg reflexively kicked up, heel catching Hank in the side. He chuckled and then moved back up to her neck and brushed her hair aside with his nose to nuzzle her nape. She shrugged her shoulders because, as he knew, the back of her neck was slightly ticklish.
“You’re scruffy today,” she murmured. She had yet to open her eyes, but her lashes fluttered.
“Is it turning you on?”
She gave a tiny snort and then a sigh, wiggling her shoulders again. “What time is it?”
“Dunno,” he answered, craning his neck a bit to lick the corner of her mouth. “Sun’s up. That’s all I know.”
“Mm, you brushed your teeth.”
“I thought I might have dreamed it, but I seem to remember strict orders. You, on the other hand...”
“I won’t be getting up quite yet.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I have been called so much worse.”
Stella’s response was to raise her hips a bit and brush her ass against his thigh. He made a little noise of appreciation and dropped his own hips to press her down into the bed. She grunted into his soft and lazy thrusts against her backside and wiggled her hips. As he got harder, he lowered himself down to one elbow behind her and slipped his hand up under the front of her camisole to squeeze her breast.
Stella stretched her body out and tipped herself back into his chest. She made little moaning noises as he enjoyed her breast and rubbed himself against her. Her legs grew restless and she rubbed her thighs together, her sighs and moans driving him crazy. He slid his hand down her belly and into her panties. She groaned and pressed her legs together, trapping his hand between her thighs.
“Ow, fuck,” he muttered, chuckling a little as he twisted his wrist to find her entrance. “How did you break your hand, sir? Crushed between the thighs of steel of my wife, doctor.”
Stella just made little sighing noises and arched into him as he pushed into her. She purposefully shoved her ass into his groin and reached back to grip the back of his thigh, dragging his leg over hers.
“Stella,” he moaned, stroking her with curled fingers, pressing as deep as he could.
He didn’t want to have to disentangle himself from her one bit, but he was also desperate to be inside her. He dragged his hand out from the grip of her thighs and pulled at the lace across her hip, managing to tug and drag her panties down to her knees. She shifted her legs and helped bring them past her knees, eventually freeing one foot, but they stayed hooked on one ankle. Impatiently, her nails scratched the front of his thigh as she tugged at his jockey shorts with a backwards grip.
“Fucking hell,” Hank groused, forced to lift his hips slightly away from her to pull his underwear down and free his cock. Stella followed with a lift of her own hips and he moved his hand around to the inside of her thigh to pull her leg back and open her up just enough to slide into her.
Stella bit down on her bottom lip and clutched Hank’s thigh with a painful grip. He bumped her arm out of the way and pushed his hand down to the bed, pressing against the underside of her thigh with his forearm. Her leg bent on it’s own, folded knee coming up near her shoulder. She moaned as he gave a single thrust, rough and deep. He was slow to give her more and she squirmed in anticipation, but he continued to tease her by pausing after every slap of his hips into hers.
“I just want you to know,” he panted, “we don’t have to do this.”
“Fucking stop and I’ll fucking kill you,” she hissed in response.
“If I ever stop fucking you it’s because I’m dead,” he answered, speeding up only a tad, giving two thrusts and a pause. “The wedding, I mean,” he said. “If you’re not sure, if it’s not what you want, we don’t have to.”
“You want to talk about this now?” she groaned.
“Yes. Fuck, stop doing that kegel shit if you don’t want me to come yet.”
“Stop talking.”
“That’s really the most polite way you’ve ever told me to shut up and fuck you.”
“Yet, you’re still fucking talking.”
Hank could feel Stella’s hand move down to where they were joined. If she was already touching herself, it meant she really wanted release and she wanted it now, so he slowed himself again just to fuck with her.
“Dammit, Hank,” she hissed.
“Too soon. I know you better than that.”
“Fuck you,” she breathed.
He chuckled, but didn’t relent. It was better when he could bring her to the brink a few times, but not push her over. He built her up until she was whimpering his name and then he pushed quick and deep. He couldn’t quite hold off his own release to bring her to finish, but he’d given her enough to get there. She shuddered against him after he’d groaned into her neck and he waited until her body had settled to let go of her leg and let her relax.
Stella breathed deeply and stretched out. She shook her panties free from her ankle which had somehow managed to stay wrapped around her foot the whole time. Hank slid his hand back up into her camisole to knead her breast.
“I was serious,” he said.
“Remind me what you’re serious about.”
“If you don’t want to get married today, we don’t have to.”
“Do you not want to get married?”
“You know I do.”
Stella squirmed a little and tried to get up, but Hank pulled her back. She sighed and turned her head back to look at him.
“It’s not going to change anything,” he said.
“Won’t it?”
“Is that what you’re really afraid of?”
“No.” She shook her head a little. “I don’t believe so.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to be a statistic. I don’t want to wake up one day and find that I dislike you.”
“If you haven’t woken up and hated my fucking guts by this point, we’ve got a pretty good chance for a long run.”
“I only hate you a little.”
Hank gave her a sarcastic laugh and gave her nipple a tweak. She elbowed him in the rib in retaliation and he folded his body slightly with an oof. He hugged her tightly and rested his cheek against the back of her head.
“I never imagined being able to marry anyone,” she said. “Yet, I can’t imagine not marrying you now.”
“So, we’re going to Connecticut?”
“Yes,” she answered, breaking free of his hold on her and getting out of bed. “Which means, we should shower and get ready.”
“Nag, nag, nag!” he whined, spreading out in the space she left behind. “We’re not married yet, you can’t tell me what to do.”
“What a shame, I was going to let you wash my back.”
“What about your front?”
“I don’t know about that, we’re not married.”
“Just kidding,” he said, rolling out of bed to follow her to the bathroom. “You own my ass.”
“By the end of the day I’ll have the papers to prove it.”
The Hiatus Awards - the award for the Outtake That Should Have Been an Intake. S2E1. Well, it was fun! Thanks to @bisexualcharliedavis for the screencap.
the statement catches steve off guard because nothing could have been further from the truth. he hadn’t even realized he’d made a sound, ❝ no, don’t stop. ❞ he rolls his neck a little and enjoys the feeling of val’s strong hands digging into tightly knotted muscles. he’d been enjoying the solitude of her cabin for long enough now he couldn’t recall exactly how long. the quiet and peace appealed to him after so long at war.
the touch of her hands on his neck from over the back of the couch hadn’t surprised him, his hearing a little more finely turned than the average man. but he hadn’t been expecting the pressure and rhythm of a massage to instantly have him sinking into the cushions and groaning under his breath.
it was an interesting development in the little dance they’d been doing around each other. he couldn’t describe it as anything but flirtatious and he’d chalked it up to her playful personality and not to any real interest. ( he was a midgardian after all. even one with his strength didn’t exactly measure up to their asgardian counterparts )
it was nice of her to let him stay, to let him hide away from the world for a while. but he knew that was all it was. hospitality. camaraderie. but sometimes he let his mind wander toward other possibilities, turning his head to nudge his nose along her inner forearm. quick enough it could just be an accident, but lately every touch between them felt intentional. ❝ that feels amazing. ❞
