#WARNING: endless yapping in the tags

[botslayer9000]

is there any possible way to brute-force vriska into positive character development

[tangledupinyellow]

Lakehouse | Chapter Three: Monday | DBF!Joel x F!Reader

authors note: chapter three!! chapter four is already on the way!

series summary: A week at your family's lake house was supposed to be a fun and relaxing vacation for you... But when your fathers good friend, Joel, tags along, you come to find that this one week will be a lot more fun than you thought.

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, divorced joel, dbf!joel, girthy age gap (reader is 23, joel is 56), no outbreak au, language, sneaky touches, subtle handjob, dom!joel, oral (m!receiving), hair pulling, joel calling reader “good girl”, facefucking, deepthroating, nicknames (sweetheart, darling), mentions of alcohol, dealing with blood, minor injury, soft!joel

chapter summary: Joel comes so close to cracking and is craving you more than ever, but he’s still making it difficult giving you what you want.

word count: 9k

previous chapter ✿ next chapter

You craved him. You craved his lips, his touch. You wanted to drown in his dark brown eyes over and over again. You could still feel his breath on your lips, inching closer and closer to yours, just desperate to meet your own. 

But that moment never came. Instead, he pulled away, scared of what may happen if he dived in too deep.

He left you cold, empty and wondering. Wondering what could have happened if he had made that one simple move. If your lips had touched, wondering if he would end things there or take things a level further. Those all remained questions, for Joel never gave you the answers you wanted.

Joanna was popping a movie into the old DVD player when you walked into the living room, the fireplace already lighting up the area. The sun had already set, the sky now a jet black with visible stars being the only source of light outside.

You could hear your father popping up some popcorn in the kitchen, the buttery aroma hitting you instantly when you walked into the room.

The couch was covered in blankets and pillows, just like how you and your sister would have it when you were kids. You chuckled quietly to yourself when you saw the set up. Some old traditions really didn’t die off, did they?

Joel wasn’t anywhere in sight. You didn’t see him or hear him talking with your dad in the kitchen, for those two were able to yap away with one another to the point where you could hear them from the other room. 

The couch was empty except for the blankets and cushions. You had to admit that you were disappointed when you didn’t see Joel. But you put on a smile anyway as you sat down on the couch, claiming your spot and fluffy pink blanket.

If Joel wanted to be pissy at you and ignore you, then so be it. He was the one that almost kissed you, not the other way around. If he was too scared to be around you for the rest of the night, you’d find a way to deal with it and just confront him in the morning. But for now, all you wanted to do was watch some shitty cheesy movies with your family while eating endless bowls of salty popcorn, hoping that would take your mind off of Joel.

You leaned back against the couch while your sister put on Napoleon Dynamite, skipping through the ads in the beginning. You held your blanket close to you as you watched her, trying your best to relax. But you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel, about the way he almost kissed you. It was driving you insane. And the fact that he wasn’t in the living room with everyone else was just making it worse. He was proving to you that he was trying to ignore you.

With an excited grin on her face, Joanna sat next to you on the couch, grabbing her favorite blue blanket.

You yawned quietly as you held onto your blanket, the television light illuminating your face as the movie began to play.

“Tired already?” Joanna laughed and shook her head, smirking over in your direction. 

“Shut up. It's been a long day, and I can finally relax now.” You mumble and hold back a laugh while repositioning yourself on the couch.

“Oh yes, because spending the day on a lake is oh so exhausting.” Joanna mocked and rolled her eyes playfully.

You sighed and rolled your eyes back at her, rethinking your decision to come up to this lake house to begin with. Joel was being distant, and your family was annoying. Maybe partying it up with your friends would have been a better route to go for spending your summer.

“Movie started yet?” Your dad smiled and set the big bowl of hot popcorn down on the coffee table in the middle of the room before plopping himself down in his armchair.

You nodded but stayed silent. Without Joel here, you felt like you were still just a little teenage girl spending time with her family, all grumpy and irritated.

Being the youngest, your dad still treated you like you were 12 years old. And Joanna was still the typical big sister that you’ve always looked up to and loved dearly but annoyed you every damn chance she got.

You selfishly only wanted to be here because of Joel, to tie up loose ends and get the closure you had wanted since you were 21, with that preferably being him giving in to the temptation of being with you. But there was always that one obstacle in the way, your father. Even if he did want you as much as you wanted him, Joel would be hesitant to cross that boundary.

You found yourself bored halfway through the first movie. You wanted to go back into your room and finish your book or go and see what Joel was up to.

But when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps heading into the living room, you immediately looked up to see Joel. His hair was messy. His grey sweatpants and tight white shirt showed off all the right parts of his body.

“Decided to join us for a family movie night, Joel?” Your dad teased, grabbing another handful of popcorn for himself.

Joel chuckled and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head in protest, “Nah, I was just comin’ to grab some water from the kitchen. Was about to head to bed here pretty soon anyways.”

“Please? Just one movie?” You smiled over at him, trying to give him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. After all, the main reason you were here was to spend time with him.

Joel looked over at you with a warning glare, but he quickly replaced it with a smile when he remembered that your father and sister were sitting right there. He could already tell what you were trying to do.

“Alright, fine, just one movie.” Joel hesitantly gave in and nodded before striding over to the couch and taking his seat right next to you.

Your heart leaped in your chest the moment his thigh grazed yours over the blanket. Looking over at him, you gave him a small and gentle smile before offering the blanket to him as well. “It gets pretty cold here at night.” You whispered.

Joel looked down at the pink blanket and, much to your surprise, covered his legs and the bottom half of his torso without hesitation. He did have to admit that he was freezing and spent the past two hours in the spare bedroom, covered up in the bed sheets while doing some light reading.

Although, he had a hard time actually getting any reading done. He kept re-reading the same page again and again. It was difficult to concentrate when all he could think about was the way he almost kissed you.

His cheeks burned hot whenever he would think about it, reminiscing about the way your breath hit his lips, how his lips tingled as they yearned to touch yours.

He knew it was wrong, so damn wrong. He hated ever thinking about you in such a way; you were Peter’s daughter for crying out loud. But every time he saw you, he couldn’t stop his cheeks from growing red and his cock from twitching in his pants, just imagining the things he wanted to do to you.

He could only imagine how he would touch you, kiss you, fuck you… but he always had to hold himself back. It was killing him, but he didn’t dare let you know that. God only knows what you would do if you knew he was having these inappropriate thoughts about you, his best friend’s daughter.

Joel exhaled deeply, trying to distract himself from the fact that you were sitting right next to him by watching the movie, hoping that would do the trick.

The movie was nearly over, only about half an hour left. You were cuddled up close to Joel. No one batted an eye as you snuggled up close to him and rested your head on his strong chest, the two of you sharing one blanket. Not even Joel questioned it or pulled away, much to your surprise. Other than a gentle glance down at you, he didn’t say or do anything to acknowledge your close proximity.

You have already checked out of the movie. All you could focus on was how close Joel was to you. Your heart would go frantic whenever he would brush his hand over your thigh, or he would shift in his seat to subtly get closer to you.

He could deny it all he wanted, but both you and Joel knew how badly he wanted you deep down. If it wasn’t for your father, you were sure Joel wouldn’t be holding himself back this much.

But he still kept his eyes on the movie, almost as if he was purposefully trying his best to ignore you. 

The night wasn’t getting any younger, and you weren’t sure if you would even have an opportunity to be this close to Joel any time soon. You wanted to take advantage of this situation and not take it for granted. You needed to be bold.

Slowly and cautiously, you slid your hand down his thigh, making sure that your hand was still underneath the blanket.

Joel’s breath hitched when he felt you moving your hand down dangerously close to his crotch. He tried not to make his reaction too obvious, considering that your father and sister were still in the same room as you two.

Without taking your eyes off him, you slipped your hand into his pants, caressing the outprint of his cock through his boxers. Joel tensed up slightly, but he didn’t move a muscle. You moved your eyes back over to the movie to not raise any suspicion. All the while, you sneakily moved your hand into his boxers, grabbing the base of his hard cock.

It was hard for him to deny how badly he wanted you, mainly because the way his body reacted to your touch gave that away.

His breath got caught in his chest as you squeezed the base, slowly inching your way down to his tip. Your thumb swirled through the pre cum that gathered at the tip. 

Joel gasped quietly and bit down on his lip to suppress a moan, trying his best to just focus on the movie and not how good your small hand felt around his cock.

“Everything alright over there, Joel?” Your father asked, taking a moment away from the movie to look at him.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded quickly as he looked at him, painting a fast smile on his face, “Just enjoyin’ the movie. Ain’t you ever taught not to speak during one?” He teased with a light chuckle.

Peter rolled his eyes playfully and laughed along with him before continuing to watch the movie as if nothing happened. Because, to his knowledge, nothing was happening.

Little did he know that his daughter was subtly stroking his best friend's cock underneath the blanket.

Joel’s dick throbbed in your hand, and you could only imagine what it looked like wrapped around your fingers.

You moved your hand up and down slowly through his boxers, your nails teasing the sensitive and delicate skin.

Joel was biting hard on his lip as he looked down at you with a warning stare. While the two of you kept eye contact, Joel never stopped you as you stroked his cock. He didn’t want you to stop. There was already even more pre cum leaking down his tip as you palmed him gently.

He didn’t know why he was so turned on. You were a beautiful young lady. That was a given. But the thrill of it all, being so secretive, he felt like he was a sneaky little teenager all over again. You brought that excitement back into his life. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was so damn wrong. But there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to stop you. If anything, all he wanted was for you to keep going.

You took glances at Joel from time to time, watching how his cheeks would burn up while he tried to hold back any moans or groans. Your hand felt too damn good. He came to realize why he always cracked every time he was near you. It was too hard to say no to you. He felt like a fool. Less than 24 hours, and he was already melting under your touch.

Right when you squeezed his shaft, Joel cleared his throat and quickly sat up in his seat. You moved your hand out of his boxers and into your lap, watching as he stood up from the couch.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Joel in confusion. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” He asked with a hint of worry.

Joel ran a hand through his hair and nodded, pressing his lips into a smile as he looked over at him. He was just praying that the bulge in his pants wasn’t noticeable, “Just tired s’all. Gonna head to bed early.” He spoke quicker than he had intended to.

Peter nodded and returned the smile, “Just trying to get out of movie night. I see how it is.” He teased with a chuckle.

Joel laughed along and rolled his eyes playfully. If only he knew the real reason why he was cutting the night so short.

Before he left, Joel gave you a knowing look that had your heart soaring in your chest. He wasn’t done with you yet, not even close. Without a word, he walked into the spare bedroom, leaving you alone with your family and your devilish fantasies.

You let a few minutes go by, not wanting to be too obvious. If you had left right away, your father would have been suspicious. You were sure Joanna would have some sort of idea, but you trusted her enough to stay hushed.

Not even ten minutes later, you stood up from the couch and announced you had to go use the restroom. You quickly strided your way into the spare bedroom, closing the door behind you.

The moment you stepped in, you saw Joel pacing back and forth around the room, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. You could still see the prominent bulge in his sweatpants, just dying to be released.

When he heard the door close, Joel took a halt to his pacing and looked straight at you. It reminded you of a wild animal staring at its prey. Hungry and starved. 

His dark brown eyes were full of lust, a look that made you warm and tingly all over. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you in close to him. You could feel his hard cock pressed up against your thigh. 

“You’re drivin’ me fucking insane, y’know that?” He held onto your hips tightly, making damn sure that you wouldn’t be going anywhere.

His cock throbbed desperately in his pants. Pre cum was already staining his boxers, and his tip was red and burning with need.

He hated himself for how easily he cracked after just one night. But there was something about you that made him this way. Now, all that Joel cared about was you helping him cum after playing that little game in front of your father.

“Am I?” You whispered dangerously close to his lips before grabbing his hard cock through his pants, giving it a light squeeze.

Joel let out an animalistic groan before grabbing your hand and leading you over to the bed with him. He hated giving in to you this easily, but there was no way he was going to be able to fall asleep without you fixing the problem you had caused.

His hand was large around your wrist, his fingers wrapped easily all the way. You knew that he was large all around, and you couldn’t wait for what he had in mind for you.

Joel sat down on the edge of the bed and stopped you right in between his legs, “On your knees. Better make this quick before your ol’ man starts wonderin’ where ya are.”

You didn’t hesitate before kneeling down right in front of him, his crotch directly in your face. You were quick to undo his belt, just as eager as he was. Your mouth was already salivating at the thought of having his dick in your mouth.

Two years, you have been waiting for this moment, desperate to take anything he was willing to give you.

“You’re so pretty like this, on your knees. So needy to suck my cock.” Joel cooed while caressing your hair with his hand, watching you unbuckle his belt and pulling down his jeans with haste.

Joel was the only man you were ever so desperate for. He was the only man, in fact, that you even wanted like this. You never had the desire to suck any other man’s dick. The thought disgusted you. But with Joel, it was so much different. You were so eager to have him in your mouth. You craved the sweet and salty taste of his cum. 

Your hands moved with haste as you pushed his boxers down to his ankles, his hard dick popping out as you did so. Just as you imagined, it was red and dripping with precum, desperately needing its release.

It was the same you had remembered from two years ago. It was large, girthy, veiny�� just perfect to fill you up any way you’d like.

Joel wrapped his other hand around the base of his shaft, slowly rubbing his dick up and down while petting your hair with the other.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Wanted my dick in that pretty little mouth of yours?” Joel groaned as he stroked his cock, his voice laced with lust.

Pre cum was dripping down his tip, and you were just dying to get a taste.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, wanting his dick in your mouth more than anything. Joel stared into your eyes as he continued to stroke his cock. You licked your lips, careful not to break eye contact with him.

“Suck.” He demanded, pulling at your hair slightly.

Without hesitation, you closed your eyes and moved your mouth down to his cock. You started off on his tip, swirling your tongue around. You moaned quietly against him at the salty taste of his pre cum, already craving more.

“Fuckkk, that’s it,” Joel growled lowly in his chest, being careful as your family was still in the living room. And these walls weren’t the thickest.

Your hand met his at the base, squeezing his cock as you continued to tease his tip with your tongue. You craved to have more of him in your mouth, but you could already tell by his size that you wouldn’t be able to take him into your mouth all at once.

Your eyes closed as you carefully bobbed your head up and down on his cock, getting a little bit deeper each time. Your throat was already relaxed, and you wanted nothing more than to make him finish in your mouth. You wanted to be the one to make him feel good.

Each time you took more of him into your warm mouth, Joel would grip onto your hair a little tighter and let out a quiet groan. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you worked your magic on his cock.

With all of your prior teasing, he could already feel himself getting close. But he didn’t want to finish, not yet. He didn’t want this to be over, especially not so soon. The moment your mouth met his dick, he felt an instant relief from all the tension you had built up in the living room. It was as if your mouth was a warm blanket when he was freezing to death. This was just what he needed. You were just what he needed.

Joel’s fingers laced in your hair, guiding you up and down his cock. He started off slow, watching you intently as you gradually got deeper on his cock. Spit was gathering around your lips and dribbling down his cock. Just the sight alone made Joel want to go insane. You were so damn sexy without even trying. 

Joel hummed quietly as he pet your hair. You gagged quietly when you went a little too deep before pulling away slightly to catch your breath. You licked your lips and looked up at Joel with big eyes, meeting his lust-filled eyes that never left yours.

“Keep goin’,” Joel mumbled, his breathing getting more ragged. He vigorously stroked his wet cock when you moved away, “Didn’t tell ya to stop now, did I?” He whispered, his strong hand still wrapped around his girthy cock.

You giggled quietly and shrugged your shoulders while looking up at him, “I just think it’s funny.” You whispered, rubbing his bare thighs and biting your lip.

Joel furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at you. He was getting more and more frustrated the longer his dick wasn’t in your mouth, “What’re you talking ‘bout?”

“It’s been less than a day, and you’re already so eager to have my mouth wrapped around your cock.” You smirked, never breaking eye contact with him.

Joel took a deep, slow breath. You could see his chest slowly rise as he gripped onto your hair. He couldn’t deny it. You weren’t wrong. It was embarrassing for him to admit, but it was the truth. He was a weak man when it came to you. He wasn’t going to deny it, but he wasn’t going to admit it in front of you either, “Be a good girl and stay quiet.” He mumbled before tugging your hair, pulling you back down on his dick.

You gagged in surprise but moaned quickly after, squeezing his thighs as he pushed your head back onto his dick. You loved seeing him so needy just for you. Your panties grew wet, knowing that you were the one who was able to make him lose control like that.

Joel held your head down, his large hand remaining in your hair as he continuously bucked his hips up into your mouth, chasing his release.

“Such a perfect mouth. Fuck.” Joel groaned, his movements getting more hasty as he felt himself get closer and closer to his climax.

You moaned against his dick as you allowed him to face fuck you. He grunted quietly, struggling to stay silent as he watched his cock disappear into your mouth over and over again.

“Takin’ me so well, such a good fuckin’ girl.” Joel moaned and held your hair to keep you in place as he fucked your mouth.

You hummed at all his praises, wanting to be a good girl just for him. You wanted to please him more than anything. You wanted to prove to him that you could be perfect for him.

Joel gasped when you squeezed his thighs and gently scratched his bare skin. He loved the feeling of your nails on his skin just as much as he loved the feeling of your mouth on his dick. It drove him insane.

His mind went cloudy as he thrusted his hips faster and deeper into your throat, desperate to cum. His breathing was strangled, getting closer and closer to his release.

You let out a quiet sob against him, his cock going deeper into your throat with each of his thrusts. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as he fucked your throat. You focused on his hand petting your hair soothingly and listened to him whisper sweet nothings about how good you were doing for him.

“Fuck. Shit..” Joel groaned and leaned his head back, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as he released in your mouth.

He gripped onto your hair tightly, his cock throbbing in your mouth as strings of warm cum shot on your tongue and down your throat. You slowly pulled your mouth away from his dick and rested your head down on his inner thigh. His pubes tickled your nose as you laid your head down on him, taking the moment to catch your breath. You coughed quietly, the drunken smile never leaving your lips.

Joel was doing the same as he slowly opened his eyes to look back over at you. The second he laid his eyes on you, he felt a pang of guilt hit his chest. You looked so calm and innocent as you lay on his lap, your mouth pink and plump from sucking him off.

He swallowed hard, the logical part of his mind slowly coming back to him. You were his best friend’s daughter, for crying out loud. He had a weak moment, and the regret hit him instantly. Not only were you Peter's daughter, but you were still so young and so innocent. You were only 23 years old. You still had so much life to experience. You shouldn’t be wasting away these years with a man who was already in his mid fifties.

He felt terrible watching you smile and relax on his lap. The two of you sat in silence. While you were full of peace and serenity, Joel’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. All the while, you seemed to have no care in the world.

Reality hit Joel like a truck. Here you were, cuddled up between his legs while your family was out in the living room watching a movie.

He tore his eyes away from you to stare at the door in front of him, trying to process his thoughts. He continued to pet your hair gently, a frown forming on the corner of his lips. His touch was soft and gentle. It was a touch that could put you to sleep.

“I should head to bed,” Joel mumbled and cleared his throat, hesitantly looking back down at you. He helped you stand back up before he pulled his boxers and sweatpants back up, his hands shaking as he did so.

You looked at him with disappointment in your eyes. But before you could say anything, Joel kissed your cheek and spoke up again.

“I’m sure your dad and sister are wonderin’ where you ran off to. You should go back out there and watch some movies with ‘em. It’ll be fun.” He put on an evidently fake smile. His lips were pursed, and he shoved his thumbs in the front pocket of his pants. He hated ending the night like this, but he didn’t have any other option.

“But Joel-”

“Goodnight,” He cut you off, “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” Joel whispered softly and laid down in the bed.

You watched him as he covered himself up in the duvet, laying down on his side and closing his eyes. He was done with this conversation. He was done with the night.

You stared at him for a moment, wanting to say something more. You didn’t want to end the night like this, but Joel wasn’t giving you much of a choice.

“Joel?” You started, not wanting the night to end. Not like this, at least.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He muttered, not turning or looking over in your direction. He laid as still as a statue.

You blinked a couple of times and sighed before turning around, grudgingly going back into the living room to end the night watching movies. But the whole time, you knew you weren’t going to be able to keep your mind off of what just happened between you and Joel.

┉┉┉

It was a long night. You were restless, tossing and turning in your bed. It wasn’t until nearly three in the morning that you finally managed to go to sleep.

You were even more annoyed when seven rolled around, and you woke up, unable to fall back asleep. You laid there for an extra half an hour with your eyes closed, trying to force yourself to go back into a dream-filled state. But, no matter how hard you tried, sleep never came back your way.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Joel and what had happened between the two of you the previous night. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see the way he looked down at you with lust and pleasure, praising how good you were sucking his cock and how wonderful your mouth felt.

And you couldn’t shake off the way he brushed you off so quickly after. It was as if he was trying to act like nothing happened between you two seconds after it happened.

Your mind was racing, and you eventually came to the realization that sleep wasn’t going to come back your way. You were annoyed and exhausted when you rolled out of bed. While it was your summer vacation, it was still a typical Monday morning.

You glanced over at a sleeping Joanna in the bed across from yours, jealous that she was actually in a deep sleep. Trying to be as quiet as you possibly could, you walked out of the bedroom and closed the creaky door behind you.

The morning sun was already up and shining, the brightness almost too much for you with all the open windows. You rubbed your eyes and yawned tiredly, making your way into the kitchen.

A couple of the windows were open, letting in a light breeze. It was strangely quiet other than the birds singing a merry tune outside. Looking out the window, you saw your dad outside working on the fishing boat, determined to get that old thing working again. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been out there since five in the morning. He was always an early bird, and unfortunately, he had passed that trait down to you. Even though you wanted more sleep, you were never able to sleep past eight on a good day.

You watched out the window for a second longer, noticing that Joel wasn’t outside there with him. You assumed that he was probably still fast asleep.

Walking over to the coffee pot, you started brewing up some fresh coffee in hopes that it could begin to wake you up so you wouldn’t feel like you were half asleep for the rest of the day. You reached up into the cabinet to grab a coffee mug, holding it close to your chest. You kept your eyes on the coffee machine, watching the hot liquid dribble down into the pot like a child would eagerly stare at the oven baking fresh chocolate chip cookies.

You rubbed your eyes once more and leaned back against the counter when you heard the sound of a door creaking open. Assuming that it was just Joanna, you didn’t pay it any attention and kept your focus on getting your first cup of coffee of the morning.

“Mornin’.” Joel’s deep voice came up from behind you, reaching over to grab his own mug. His arm brushed yours as he reached over you. You tensed up slightly and stared down at your mug.

“Morning,” You responded quietly, “How’d you sleep?”

“Slept fine.” He kept his answer short. His voice was tired and groggy, and he spoke extremely low in his chest. He sounded like he had gotten just as much sleep as you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he spent all night tossing and turning like you had, unable to stop thinking about what happened that night.

You stayed silent, waiting for him to say something, anything else. But he just leaned against the counter alongside you, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

Looking over at him, you could see the bags underneath his eyes. It made you wonder if he had even gotten any sleep at all. You wanted to feel guilty, but you didn’t regret what happened. If anything, it only made you want even more of him. You wanted to hear him moaning your name and telling you how good you felt again. You craved for him to touch you like he did and more so.

Every time you thought about it, you got excited and warm all over. Even just looking at him had the same effect. He even looked sexy in the morning with his messy hair and sweatpants. You wanted to go down on him again more than anything. It was incredibly hard to hold yourself back.

But as you kept your eyes on Joel, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Joel was a man who was always good at hiding his emotions behind a stone cold face. His face was tired as he stared at the coffee machine, caressing the ceramic mug in his hands.

You were itching to bring up the night before, but you didn’t want to be the one to start the conversation. You were waiting for Joel to do that. But he kept silent, not even looking over at you.

You tapped your mug as you continued to lean back against the counter, close to Joel. His arm brushed yours lightly, but he pulled away quickly, clearing his throat. Joel glanced over at you for a quick second and sighed before turning away once more.

There was nothing he wanted more than to wrap his arms around you from behind and hold you close. You always had a special place in his heart, and that soft spot only grew since last night. All because of one weak moment he had, he wanted your touch even more. He wanted to pull you in close to him and spend a lazy morning in bed with you.

But of course, he couldn’t. He couldn’t even be thinking in such a way, and that was the hardest part; trying to deter his mind away from you. But each time you would even walk his way, he would find his exterior cracking and cracking even more, threatening to break completely.

And you were nearly successful with that the other night. He didn’t want to push you away. He wanted nothing more than to have you stay with him in bed, cuddled up in his arms and sleeping on his chest. But he had to do what was right, no matter how difficult it was for him to do so.

You kept taking glances over at Joel as you waited on your coffee, just waiting for him to say anything. But that moment never came.

He ran a hand through his hair and stepped over to the coffee machine when the coffee finished brewing, pouring himself a cup. He blew the steam from the mug before taking a sip of the piping hot black beverage.

He looked over at you from over his mug and gave you a small smile. He wanted to reassure you that he wasn’t mad or upset with you. He wasn’t at all. If anything, he was angry at himself for allowing things to go as far as they did. And he was mad that he wanted more of you. He was even more upset with himself because he didn’t regret what happened.

“Oat milk in your coffee, right?” Joel finally spoke up as he walked over to the fridge. It was something, but nothing close to what you wanted. It was clear now to you that you wouldn’t be talking about last night's activities any time soon.

You gave him a quick nod and a slight smile, “Yeah, thanks.”

Joel nodded and pulled out the carton of oat milk from the fridge, setting it down on the counter beside you. You thanked him and prepared your coffee the way you liked it. 

He stayed silent as he looked around before looking back over at you, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek, “‘Course.” He mumbled before going out the front door to meet your father out on the dock.

Your cheeks immediately turned a dark shade of pink when his lips met your skin. That was the last thing you were expecting from him. It made your heart race in your chest. You watched as he walked back outside and bit your lip, failing to hold back a smile.

┉┉┉

By early afternoon, everyone was up and out by the lake, taking advantage of the warm summer weather. You were in your favorite baby blue bikini, one that you knew for a fact would catch Joel’s eye without fail.

Joanna was out in the water, floating on her back in the lake and letting the sun beat down on her skin while you sat out on the edge of the dock, dipping your toes in the water. Your sister had already begged you to come out in the water with her, but you were very adamant that you didn’t want to get your hair wet.

Right out by the dock, Joel and your dad were leaning back in some lawn chairs with a bottle of cold beer in their hands, casually sipping and relaxing as they made small talk.

You took your feet out of the water and laid back down on the dock, feeling the warm sun all over your body. It was calm and relaxing, just what you needed after your confusing morning with Joel.

Every time you would look over at Joel, he would immediately turn away as if he was already staring at you when you weren’t looking. You smirked to yourself as you watched him talk to your dad in an attempt to distract himself from you.

You had just as much of a hard time taking your eyes away from him. He always looked so good, especially with his tight tee shirt and sunglasses that covered his dark eyes. He had to be aware that the effect he had on you was just as powerful as the one you had on him.

You reluctantly looked away from him to bring your attention over to Joanna when you heard her calling out your name.

“What?” You called back out to her, standing up on the dock and facing her. Your ass was in Joel’s view, and you could feel his eyes on you.

“Are you going to join me in the water now, or are you just gonna lay there and burn in the sun?” She teased in her typical big sister manner.

You rolled your eyes and sighed before walking down the dock to get off and to the shore. You were getting pretty hot, and your sister was making the sparkling blue water seem very appealing. After all, it was never a successful vacation to the lake house if you didn’t spend at least an hour in the water every day.

When you were younger, you may have jumped off the dock and dived into the water. But now, walking into the water slowly and easing into it seemed more pleasing. Plus, it gave Joel more of an opportunity to stare at you and your ass as you walked into the water.

You glanced over your shoulder, and just as expected, Joel was staring at you through his sunglasses, his grip tight on his beer bottle. You chuckled quietly as you stared at him for a moment, feeling the cool water on your bare feet as you stepped into the lake.

You only took a couple of steps in before you had to stop immediately. An instant pain shot through your foot, and you cursed, grabbing onto your foot.

Joanna watched you and furrowed her eyebrows before standing up in the water, “Are you alright?”

You pressed your lips together and looked down at your hand to see the blood mixing in with the water, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.” You sighed, not wanting to bring attention to yourself.

Just your luck, you had to step on the sharpest rock in the lake that sliced a clean cut into your foot. It stung, and your foot and hand were now covered in blood. Just great.

You limped back out to the shore, grabbing your flip flops so you didn’t have to walk barefoot on the ground with an open wound on the sole of your foot.

Your father looked over at you as you walked back over to the house, dragging your injured foot behind you.

“Everything alright there, sweet pea?” He called out to you with a slight frown on his face, his body turned in his lawn chair to look at you.

When Joel heard him, he turned his attention over to you, an immediate concern washing over him.

“Yeah, I already told Joanna that I’m fine.” You told him, not wanting to bring much attention to yourself. All you wanted to do now was to just go inside and take care of this.

Peter seemed satisfied by your answer, unlike Joel. Joel stood up from his lawn chair and sighed, setting his beer in the cup holder, “I’ll take care of it.” He told Peter before walking over to your side and gently grabbing onto your arm.

“I said I was fine, Joel. I can take care of it myself.”

Joel shook his head, not listening to your claims that you were alright. He could see the blood that was on your shoe and the way you were limping all the way back to the house. He could tell you were bullshitting him, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I ain’t letting you tell me that bullshit, c’mon now.” He demanded gently, keeping his soft grip on your arm as he dragged you inside the lake house and immediately into his bedroom, “Sit.” He motioned over to his bed before walking out of the room.

You sighed quietly as you watched him before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You took off your flip flops, holding onto your injured foot. The bleeding seemed to be dying out by now, but it was still covered in dirt and dried blood. This was something you definitely could have taken care of by yourself. You weren’t a child. You didn’t need Joel’s help. But he wasn’t going to allow you to deal with this on your own. That itself was clear.

Less than two minutes later, Joel came back into the bedroom, holding a box of bandages and a wet towel.

“Does it hurt?” Joel asked gently and kneeled down in front of you, grabbing onto your ankle to take a better look at the cut.

You shrugged, watching as he cleaned your foot with the wet rag, “Not really anymore.” You mumbled, keeping your eyes on him.

You were a bit surprised that he was so adamant about helping you, especially after the other night and this morning. He seemed like he wanted to just avoid you ever since last night.

He barely even talked to you this morning and has been giving you nothing but confusing signals that you struggled to make any sense of. And now, he was insistent on bandaging up your little wound that you could have easily done yourself.

His touch was soft and gentle, as if he had done this a million times before. He didn’t put too much pressure on the sole of your foot as he cleaned up the blood and sand before carefully bandaging it. Running a hand through his hair when he finished, Joel looked up at you with a small smile before standing up, growing three feet, “Should be as good as new.”

You chuckled quietly and rolled your eyes, leaning back on the bed while keeping your eyes on him, “Thanks, Joel. I could have done it myself, y’know. It didn’t hurt all that bad.”

Joel shrugged his shoulders before taking the seat down next to you on the bed, his hand just barely brushing against yours, “Yeah, I figured. But those cuts can get real nasty if you don’t take care of ‘em right. Wanted to make sure you got proper treatment.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh a little more when you heard him and smirked, shaking your head, “It sounds to me like you just wanted some alone time. Is that true, Dr. Miller?”

The corners of Joel’s lips upturned into a grin as he shook his head, “Not my intention, but I ain’t complain ‘bout it either.”

The curtains were closed, and everyone else was outside by the lake. It was one of the few times you were alone with him, other than the other night and the morning after.

“Seems like you’ve been going out of your way to get me all to yourself.” You pointed out.

Joel chuckled softly and held onto your hand, making your heart skip a beat. His calloused fingers caressed the top of your hand as his eyes bore into yours, “M’afraid I can’t confirm or deny that.” He whispered.

That wasn’t the response you were expecting from him. You had assumed that he was wanting to avoid you ever since the previous night.

“I’m feeling better already.” You smiled warmly, squeezing his hand gently, watching as he didn’t pull away.  

He actually wanted to hold your hand, to be close to you. He wasn’t saying anything, just staring into your eyes with such care that you haven’t seen from any man your age before.

It was much different than the lustful look he was giving you the night before. His eyes were soft and gentle as they stared into yours. He didn’t want to be the first to look away, and neither did you.

Joel took the other hand that wasn’t holding onto yours and gently reached up to caress your cheek, his rough hand contrasting against your smooth skin. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your cheek fitting perfectly into his hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel whispered, letting the forbidden words leave his mouth. He hated himself for allowing him to feel such a way for you, but it was torture trying to deny it.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, his finger slowly brushing past your lower lip. Your lips parted slightly, your eyes never leaving his.

Slowly, you stood up from the bed, and his hand moved down to wrap around your waist. He pulled you in closer to him with one swift movement, barely an inch between the two of you.

Your eyes glanced down at his lips, wanting to press them against yours more than anything. The butterflies came flying back into your lower stomach when you noticed him doing the same. You were waiting for him to make the first move. His grip on your waist tightened as he held you close to him.

Joel licked his dry lips, massaging your hips as he stared into your deep eyes, “Y’know, we really can’t be doing this.” He whispered lowly, barely audible enough for you to hear him.

“But we both want this.” You whisper, moving your hands up to his chest. He tensed up under your hands as you caressed his chest gently, your touch causing unexplainable things to him.

Joel looked down and sighed heavily, shaking his head in defeat, “Don’t mean it’s right.” He muttered and ran a hand over his face before looking at you.

His eyes were sunken in, and you took notice of the dark bags underneath his eyes. It was clear he was losing sleep because of this. He spent the night tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about you and how good your mouth felt against his cock. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted more of you. He didn’t get a blink of sleep, all because of you. 

He was in a conflict with himself. He was unsure what to do. He didn’t know whether he should follow his head that repeatedly told him how wrong all of this was, or his beating heart that would race every time he would lay eyes on you. 

You never tore your eyes away from him, trying to read him. But you were unsuccessful. He was always a hard man to read, but now more so than ever. 

“Fuck me.” Joel sighed heavily and shook his head.

You furrowed your eyebrows, and before you could even get a word in, Joel’s lips met yours in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. His large hands held onto your waist as his lips danced with yours.

You hummed quietly against his lips as you kissed him back instantly, closing your eyes. Just like you had imagined, his lips were warm and soft, contrary to his rough hands that held you close to him.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging and pulling at the dark strands gently as your lips met his over and over again. Slowly, your hands snaked down to his chest, to his stomach, and almost made their way down to his lower stomach before Joel stopped the kiss, grabbing onto your hand gently.

He shook his head. You could still feel his hot breath beating down on your kiss stained lips.

You looked up at him in confusion, your lips slowly turning downwards into a frown. You wanted to ask him if you did anything wrong, but you were scared that you already knew the answer.

“Look, darlin’…” He began. You already didn’t like where this was headed, “You know I have a soft spot for you, always have an’ probably always will if I ain’t careful,” he ran a hand up his face and through his hair, struggling to find the right words to say. He wanted to make things clear, but he didn’t want to unintentionally hurt you, either. That would probably just break his heart even more.

There was a brief moment of silence before Joel held onto your hand once more as a way to reassure you, “But whatever this is, it can't continue. It’ll be damn hard, that’s for sure,” he scoffed quietly. He smirked, shaking his head, mostly to himself, “But it can’t. I care a lot about you and your family. You understand that, don’t ya?”

You didn’t want to, but you nodded your head.

“And I care about your dad a lot. One of my closest friends. And I’d be damned if I ever hurt the man who helped me through hell and back,” Joel explained, “And you’re still young. Still so damn young…” he exhaled, almost like the realization just hit him.

You remained silent, for once willing to keep quiet and listen.

“You deserve someone your own age who can treat you right, who wouldn’t have to keep you a secret and feel guilty every time he gets you alone. You are a beautiful young woman who can get any man she wants. But I can’t be that man for you.”

You wanted to interrupt him and demand that he was the only man you wanted, the only man that you ever truly wanted. Everyone else you’ve ever tried to date were nothing but assholes. But Joel was different. Not only was he mature and sexy, but he was soft and kind hearted, something you have never received from any other man before.

Joel tucked a piece of hair behind your ear while staring into your eyes, “You should get some rest.” He whispered gently.

You remained silent and nodded slowly. The one-sided conversation was a hard one to get through, and it was a lot for you to process. You wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and fall asleep, escape from the reality that you currently didn’t want to be in.

“You can lay in my bed. I don’t mind.” Joel offered and gently held onto your arm to help you lie down.

You didn’t need the help, but you didn’t push him away. He was so soft with you, and you wanted to hold onto this side of Joel for as long as you could.

With a quiet yawn, you laid down on the bed and let him drape the covers over you. He wanted to take care of you, and you wanted to allow him to do so. He brushed your hair out of your face and smiled softly, “You rest up now.”

You looked up at him as he gently rubbed your shoulder, “Can you stay here with me for a little while?” You asked him, your quiet voice tired.

The small smile on Joel’s face grew before he nodded slowly. He always had a hard time saying no to you, “Scooch over.” He mumbled.

You moved further over on the bed to make room for him, and Joel moved underneath the covers, laying right beside you.

“C’mere.” He whispered and wrapped his arm around you to bring you in closer to him. His body was warm and cozy as you rested your head on top of his chest. You focused on his beating heart and rhythmic breathing. It was almost enough to lull you to sleep.

The two of you stayed silent. There was a lot that could be said, but nothing that either of you wanted to bring up. You knew that pursuing any kind of romantic relationship with Joel was going to be near impossible, no matter how much you both craved each other. But at the same time, you were cuddling up to him in his bed.

It was clear that you both wanted more of something that you couldn’t have. All this was now, was a waiting game. Waiting to see how long it was going to take him to fully crack and not go back on his word. You knew what you wanted, and he knew that too. Now, it was all up to him to admit to himself how much he wanted you.

You listened to his steady breathing and yawned quietly once more, the sound of his soft snores lulling you to sleep.

┉┉┉

taglist♡: @umadirectioner @glitterspark

[slowd1ving]

TALES OF A DISGRUNTLED CORVID ⁺ 　 . MOZE

Quite frankly, you've been assigned an absolute loser (unaffectionate) to work with after your dramatic exit from the Intelligentsia Guild. Whoever said this guy was too silent was wrong, as he verily proves himself as the bane of your existence with his ceaseless yapping. art credits to @code_tesseract on x!! and tagging @ilovechuuy4 as requested :3 pairings: moze + male cryptologist reader (will be part of a series methinks) warnings: male reader, mentions of assassination? may be a touch ooc since this is pre-release writing unfortunately, lowkey crack fic, pre relationship, business partnership of hating each other wc: 1.9k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There’s never a dull day when a certain Shadow Guard is your partner for an assignment. Truly, your life always sparkles brilliantly when the information pings on your Jade Abacus; without fail, everything gains just a bit more colour, a bit more vivaciousness. Pathetically fallacious, you might’ve described it as had you taken literature classes: mood hued with such dynamic chromaticity that you fear you might explode into little prismic rainbows. Always such a bundle of joy to be geminate with him. 

“Must you be so… disorganised?”

Oh, who are you kidding.

It’s always a dull day when you’re paired with Moze.

“Get out.” A particularly rude gesture materialises in your open hand as you stare at the door he practically kicked down. Apartments in this particular sector of the Xianzhou Yaoqing do not come cheap, and you half-wonder whether he’d eke out coin to console your landlord. Then, with an especially sour, lemon-like expression, you realise he would fork out his own money just to make your life more difficult. 

When you first got assigned work in the Yaoqing (read: kicked to the curb by the Intelligentsia Guild to gain real world experience), you really did expect your tenure to be plain office work. Letters, forms, public relations—these mundanities you anticipated. In fact, you would’ve relished such tedium; after decrypting endless scientific formulae and pondering your mysterious tomes, engaging in bureaucratic matters would be a piece of cake! A little treat for your weary eyes—if you closed them, you could still see faint imprints of equations in the theatre of your mind. 

But what you hadn’t factored into your (ahem) calculations was just how sharp the Arbiter-General Feixiao was: just how passionate she was about pursuing Abominations and ruthlessly eliminating them, just how frank and swift the Madam General was. You also forgot that out of all the flagships, the Yaoqing were one of the most militarily driven. A blunder most fatal. 

“Thy talents would be wasted in the mere administrative wing,” Feixiao gesticulated. “Come, child, put thy brain and brawn to use and track down these villainous curs most evil.”

“Goodness, Madam General!” you’d cried out pitifully. “My heart is thine for the keeping!”

Or something like that. Actually, it may have not all been like that. 

After all, you were kicked out (temporarily! temporarily!) partly due to your penchant for delivering heart-rendering performances to your professors to avoid taking on their extra work. Such moving renditions, that they had to let you go lest you broke their bleeding hearts. Had you known you’d be working in the shady corners of intelligence and decryption, you would’ve kowtowed to the Guild for utmost forgiveness. Probably. 

When your path first overlapped with the Shadow Guards’, you honestly couldn’t give two hoots about the rumours that followed silently behind their own noiseless steps. Your ears had perked somewhat at the gossip your colleagues threw back and forth—though, who could blame you. The job was no fun!

Weirdo with the crow feathers, they’d murmured. He’s so quiet. What a reticent chap. 

Of course, you’d disagree, and perhaps tack on a loser to the descriptions of Moze. You’d disagree not with the ‘weirdo’, but rather with the quiet and reticent adjectives—partly because he really does need to shut up more. 

And he needs to stick to his rumours more. If this loner’s made it a point to not work with people, then why oh why did the honourable Madam General decide your ancient science and study complemented his shady skillset? And why oh why does he never refuse her request? (You’ve conveniently forgotten how you always fold when it comes to her.) You’ve always worked alone too, for as long as you can remember; decoding the ancient equations in ruins and solving their gimmicky puzzles using your boundless wits is a job for one. 

As it stands, the people he investigates, the work he takes care of, sometimes intrudes into the realm of questionable rituals and summonings the Abominations and their ilk oft partake in. Thus do you find your career verging into some gruesome form of forensics as you stare down what would commonly be considered a murder scene: sigils and ancient alchemical algebra staring right back at you. He deals with the human aspect of intelligence: the psychology, the crime, the covert espionage. You deal with the technical fallout: the analysis of antique sciences is your specialty, after all. This has culminated in a begrudging partnership where both parties wish nothing more than to leave it. 

A business relationship, of sorts, founded on the mutual dislike (a weak description) of each other. 

“No.” He doesn’t budge from where he leans against the doorframe, but he does have the decency to swing the door closed behind him. Yet, it’s not out of any respect for the hallowed sanctity of your abode, but more because he’s sooo Mysterious and Aloof that none of your neighbours are allowed to view his visage. 

“You are—” a quick glance at your watch proves your point. For someone obsessed with keeping tidy, he sure does have messy time management. “—eighteen minutes too early.”

“And you still aren’t ready,” he counters, pointedly eyeing the loose shirt and comfortable cotton trousers slung over your hips. You yawn, tired already from his yapping. He’s been compared to a crow for as long as you’ve been here—and perhaps far longer—but to you he’s always been more like a little dog. Yap. Yap. Yap. 

This is precisely why I don’t work with others, you can almost taste his words—his thoughts. 

“You are currently the biggest hindrance to my getting ready,” you grimace. Casting a quick glance over his intricate garb, it’s no wonder he feels getting ready is such a lengthy endeavour: all straps and buckles and tough layers that makes him the walking fortress he is. “I’ll be on time.”

He doesn’t reply: laconic only when he acknowledges your point as unequivocally right, which is seldom. 

“Are you going to keep staring?” you snap as you sling the worn shirt from your body. Beneath the soft clothes is muscle hard-won through your frequent collaborations with the Armed Archaeologists in the Guild: days filled with more sparring and their stupid callisthenics than actually finding ruins. 

“Do you have to dress right here?” he counters, but it’s a futile argument—this apartment is barely big enough for you as it stands. Currently, he’s situated by the doorway, but you’re on the unseen boundaries of the living room and the tiny kitchen. Beyond is your bedroom and miniscule bathroom, of which neither have enough space to move comfortably to change. And you certainly aren’t going to sacrifice your comfort to appease his poor eyes; he’s seen worse for sure. Though, you doubt he’s ever seen a naked body that wasn’t in the context of assassination and the anatomy classes you know he’s meticulously attended for his shady work. Surreptitiously, you snicker at the thought: that there aren’t any lovers lined up for this weirdo. 

You toss the garment onto your couch, precisely because you know he’s grinding teeth over it; and there’s that tell-tale click of molar against molar. You even whistle a bit as you untie the neat bow holding your trousers to your hips; the fabric pools on the floor, and you don’t make any move to pick it up. 

There it is. His glower—red-hot and piercing through the flesh and sinew of your back—is heavy in this small space. What you don’t see, however, is how his eyes flicker briefly across your body, down the firm step of your legs as you step out of the trousers. Out of context, watching muscle ripple and twist as you strip forces crimson to seep into his face. This is an implication he’s absolutely disgusted with—with you. 

“If you have any more input as to what I do in my home, you’re welcome to pay my rent first,” you finally deign to reply, rummaging in the dresser in your hallway—which he knows has never been neat with all the clothes spilling from the edges. His eye twitches. 

“You’re an incorrigible man,” he retorts, carmine flush now from irritation rather than anything else. Irritation from the beginning, because it was never anything else. 

“Wow,” you blink, weighing your options between shirt A and shirt B. The cherry-red with straps, or the Prussian blue with straps, you muse, holding the shirts against your beloved grey cargoes. “You sound exactly like my professor. Same adjective and everything.”

When it comes to shameless people, there comes the very real risk of insults being nullified by the insulted through them simply agreeing. 

“No wonder the Guild kicked you out.” As you’re pulling the scarlet fabric over your head, you pause—it seems he’s finally hit a nerve. There’s a rare smile toying with his lips at the victory: one he doesn’t notice, but ghosts across his face nonetheless.

Now, there are many things you could reply to that with. Such as, did your parents give you a reason when they abandoned you? Nay, that is too low of a blow. No wonder you don’t have any friends. But he probably grapples with that bitter reality each morning, gnashing his teeth and beating his chest. 

“Bold of you to speak of being unwanted,” you comment matter-of-factly. Both insults it is then, wrapped neatly into an ambiguous tale of these eight words. His smile fades. 

With a slight gasp, you finally wrangle the tight material on—it’s armour, after all, a specific textile development by the Yaoqing for the protection of civilians and tourists alike, though you aren’t considered a tourist by your special work-abacus-plaque. It fits snugly against you: straps for knives sit tight against your forearms, while the harness that provides extra support for your torso rests neatly beneath your chest. The garb’s almost like a compression shirt from your home planet, except the Yaoqing has far more violent uses for it. 

“Didn’t Guard Zhí reject you?” He bites out, and it takes a minute for you to realise he’s talking about Zhí Hua, the best friend you’d made on the flagship—and your Shadow Guard drinking buddy. 

“Huh?” Dumbfoundedly, you pause in doing the buckles on your trousers, losing far more time than you’d bargained for. “A-hua is my friend.”

The diminutive doesn’t go unnoticed, which rankles him far more than falling prey to the rumour about you and his fellow Guard. No, both rankle him—likely because hearing about a workplace romance about you just disgusts him in general. 

“Pfft,” you snort out, finally done with the laborious task of adjusting the materiel and various other gadgets attached to your body. “I have got to tell her about this. Who knew your ability to gather information would be stopped by a rumour?”

The tightness in his chest lessens somewhat. 

“Besides, everyone already knows my heart belongs to the Madam General,” you sigh, clasping your hands to your chest in a dreamy gesture. It’s an ongoing joke: you professing your deep adoration of Feixiao after she gives you a pay raise for putting up with the so-called ‘reticent’ Moze. “Woah, what’s with the sour look?”

“Gross,” he mutters. 

As you step near the doorway to grab your boots, you lean into his space mockingly: and he recoils back in even more revulsion. 

“Of course, you wouldn’t know.” You pat his shoulder once, condescendingly, then promptly slip your heavy boots off the shelf. “Since there’s no one who loves you.”

And his glare as you shuffle your shoes on is poignant. 

 ₊  ⋆   ☾

[sofiaamxtthee]

Code of affection

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Friends (?) to lovers, nsfw, minors dni, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, spicy, happy ending, aftercare.

It’s a short (and spicy) story of you and Tech, because i can’t sleep (yes, i know, i’m a freak). Soo yeah, enjoy.

Shorty, the story is Tech is a yapper, and you love looking at him or listening to him, but you start daydreaming of him, and he notice it then things get spicy. GOOD ENDING? AFTERCARE!!!!

Tech was explaining something. Again.

You sat across from him in the Marauder’s small common area, head tilted lazily to the side, chin resting on your palm. His voice was a familiar melody: quick, precise, filled with big words and endless streams of knowledge about mechanics, the ship’s nav systems, hyperspace routes — you weren’t sure anymore. You’d tuned out about three paragraphs ago.

Because Force, he was so…gorgeous. His eyes, his face, his skin. It was not hot or sexy. It was pretty.

You could stare at him forever. And honestly, you often did.

The sound of Tech’s voice, quick and certain, was one of your favorite things in the galaxy. He could yap on about hyperdrives, planetary ecosystems, ship repairs—and you’d sit there, completely enchanted, chin resting on your hand, eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his lips moved when he talked so fast he barely breathed.

“And if we adjust our course by approximately two degrees, we’ll avoid the ion storm entirely,” he said, hands flying over the console with practiced ease, eyes glowing behind his goggles. “Which, statistically speaking, raises our chances of survival by a factor of—

Tech paused mid-sentence, adjusting his goggles absentmindedly. His gaze sharpened when he noticed your faraway smile — the one you wore when your mind was definitely not following the lecture.

“Am I boring you?” he asked, a tiny crease forming between his brows.

You jolted upright, feeling your cheeks heat up. “No! No, no — you’re not boring at all, Tech! I was just…thinking.”

His head tilted. Curious. Patient. He was always so patient with you.

“Oh?” he said mildly. “Thinking about what? If you were listening, you should have no trouble repeating the last point I made.”

You froze. Your brain scrambled. What had he even been talking about? Hyperspace trajectories? Ship engines? Astrogation mapping? You threw out the first thing that came to mind:

“Uh…that the, um…plasma conduits need recalibrating because of…residual ion…build-up?”

There was a beat of silence.

And then, before you could stop yourself, your mouth blurted the thought you’d actually been having:

“It’s really hot in here….I am hot…I mean you are! I-what?” I slam my hand over my mouth and blush in embarassment.

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric.

Tech blinked slowly behind his goggles. His mouth opened slightly — not in offense, but pure surprise, like he’d just been slapped with a datapad.

You immediately started explaining yourself. “Oh stars, I didn’t mean— I mean, I did! You are pretty! I just—”

Tech’s lips quirked into a very, very small smile — one that was devastating in its subtlety.

“Pretty?” he echoed, voice dipping lower.

I just look at him, blushing in embarassment.

He set down the datapad he was holding with a thunk on the table, rising from his seat with that precise, controlled grace of his. You swallowed hard as he closed the distance between you in two slow steps.

“You find me aesthetically pleasing,” he said, more statement than question. His gloved fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his.

“Maybe-“ you said, but Tech stopped you mid sentence.

“Do you?” He smirks.

You barely managed a breathless “Yes,” before Tech leaned down and kissed you — precise at first, like he was gathering data, then rougher when you whimpered against his mouth.

And Maker, Tech was good at this.

It shouldn’t have surprised you. He excelled at everything he put his mind to — fighting, flying, fixing. Why not kissing too?

But it still left you breathless, overwhelmed, clutching at the front of his armor as he pressed you back against the wall, mouth devouring yours like you were a problem he was desperate to solve.

You gasped as he trailed kisses down your jaw, slow and calculated, his hands sliding to your waist, thumbs pressing bruising circles into your hips.

His mouth brushed over your skin like a question. Testing. Studying.

You shivered, clutching at the collar of his armor as he kissed a slow, deliberate path along your jaw, your neck, the delicate spot beneath your ear.

“You are remarkably receptive to tactile stimulation,” Tech muttered against your skin, voice husky, curious.

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head to give him better access. “Is that…your way of saying you like kissing me?”

“I adore kissing you,” he corrected, very seriously, before sealing his mouth over your neck and sucking.

Your knees buckled. Tech caught you instantly — one arm looping securely around your waist as he pressed you tighter against the wall. His hands, so steady when fixing blasters and slicing into systems, trembled just slightly now where they gripped you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you — eyes sharp behind the goggles, lips flushed and swollen.

“I hypothesize,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “that I could spend hours…experimenting on what precise touches elicit the strongest responses.”

You whimpered at the idea, and he smirked — tiny, smug, dangerous.

“Would you permit me to test that theory, Mesh’la?”

“Please,” you gasped.

That was all he needed.

Tech kissed you again — harder now, hungrier. His gloves slid under the hem of your shirt, fingers splaying over your skin, mapping every curve like you were his own private star chart. His touch was firm but reverent, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or completely devour you.

Your hands fumbled with the clasps of his armor, desperate to feel more of him. He helped, stripping away the layers with quick, efficient motions — like dismantling a weapon — until you could finally run your hands over the firm lines of his body.

Lean, strong, carved from years of discipline and action. You couldn’t help the awe in your voice:

“You’re so.” You moan.

He paused, eyes flickering with something hotter than affection — something closer to pure need.

“Your appreciation is…” He sucked in a sharp breath as your hands roamed his torso, your nails scraping lightly down his sides. “…stimulating.”

You smiled wickedly, dragging your nails a little harder — earning a low, raw sound from him that made your stomach twist with desire.

“Stimulating, huh?” you teased, emboldened.

“In ways I am…having difficulty quantifying,” he admitted, and before you could laugh, he lifted you — effortlessly — pressing you back against the wall again, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

His mouth was everywhere: jaw, collarbone, the tops of your breasts, moving lower, lower. Every kiss was methodical, but getting messier, hungrier, as he lost more and more of that perfect control.

Your heart nearly burst at the sound of it — the claim in his voice.

And then he showed you exactly how serious he was.

He dragged you to the floor in a flurry of kisses and clumsy urgency — Tech, clumsy — his need finally outweighing his precision. He kissed you like a man starved, hands everywhere at once, leaving no inch of you unexplored.

Every touch, every kiss, every desperate grind of his hips against yours — it all felt like a star going supernova inside you.

Tech’s kisses trailed from your collarbone down to the delicate swell of your waist, each one calculated and tender yet bursting with an intensity he could hardly contain. His gloved fingertips charted the intricate topography of your skin—a practiced survey that was both clinical and deeply admiring. Every soft murmur and heated whisper was an exploration, a hypothesis he was determined to test.

“Your are absolutely… fascinating,” he breathed, voice low and breathless, as his lips followed the gentle curve of your shoulder. The measured cadence of his language contrasted perfectly with the desperate hunger behind his eyes.

You arched into his ministrations, breathing in his musky scent as his hands roamed with both curiosity and unbridled need.

Without further ado, he began a systematic exploration—each kiss, each caress, every calculated movement sending data straight to the core of your desire. His mouth became a relentless interrogator of your senses, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and unexpected, fervent bursts of passion that drew soft, continuous moans from your lips.

“You said it’s hot in here?” he asks simply. When you nod, he smirks. “Shall we take some…layers off then?”

A few seconds later, the clothes were already on the ground. His steady hands and clear, determined focus left little to chance. He studied your reactions, adjusting his touches with the care of a meticulous scientist and the passion of a lover who had discovered something new with each sensation.

He lays you down, but doesn’t stop kissing you. He climbs on the top of you, and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

He goes lower, and he trails his fingers along your inner thighs, his touch feather light and teasing. Slowly and gently, he spreads your legs wider, exposing your private part. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit, making your jump slightly. His tongue replaces his lips, licking a slow, deliberate path from your entrance to your clit. He circles the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, feeling it swell under his touch. He sucks it into his mouth, his fingers spreading your legs wider, to give him better acces. He curls two fingers inside you, finding that spot that makes you whimper and buck your hips. He hooks his fingers upwards, massaging that spot rhythmically as he sucks hard on your swollen bud. He can feel you tensing, your inner walls fluttering around his fingers. He adds a third finger, stretching you further as he continues his relentless assault on your clit. He can feel your orgasm building, your body trembling and your breaths coming in short gasps. He suddently pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue, pushing it deep inside you. You moan up at the sudden action. Feeling your impending orgasm, he doubles his efforts. His fingers replace his tongue, plunging deep and curling upwards to hit that irresistible spot. Simultaneously, his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking with intense preassure while flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly over the sensitive bud. You are so oversimulated, you had no clue he is…good in this…like really good.

He feels your body convulsing with pleasure, and he knows your still riding the waves of your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers out, giving your clit one last gentle suck before lifting his head.

Your legs fall limply off his shoulders as you try to catch your breath. He watches your body, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your shallow breaths.

He kisses you, softly, deeply, knowing you might need a moment. He pulls back slightly, checking your face for any sight of discomfort. Finding none, he smiles softly and whispers “Okay?”. You nod, biting your lip shyly.

His hands trail down your sides, making you shiver. He positions himself between your legs again. “You sure you’re ready?” He asks in a soft voice.

As you nod, he slowly pushes the head of his cock inside you. He watches your face intently, making sure you’re okay. He sees no sign of discomfort on your face, only a look of pleasure. He pushes in further, his thick lenght filling you up completely. He pauses, letting you adjust his size. He leans down to kiss you deeply as he begins to move his hips slowly.

He starts with slow, deliberate thrusts, allowing you to feel every inch of him sliding in and out. His eyes darken with desire as he hears your moans. He grips your hips tightly and starts thrusting harder. He leans over you, his muscular body caging you as he drives into you with increasing force.

His pelvis grinds against your clit with each thrust, the pleasure almost overwhelming. He adjusts his angle, hitting the deepest part of you that makes you see stars. You scream from pleasure, and he kisses you. His movements become more erratic as he feels his own release approaching. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. With a final, powerful thrust, he comes, his seed filling you up.

He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, and pulls out of you.

You laid there together, the air thick with the sweet aftershocks of what you had shared. Tech’s arm was wrapped securely around you, his body pressed close, as if anchoring you to reality after the dizzying heights you had just reached.

He didn’t say much at first—he just held you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow, almost methodical patterns along the bare curve of your spine. His other hand lightly cradled the back of your head, ensuring you stayed tucked perfectly against his chest. You could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a grounding rhythm that made your own breathing start to slow.

“You’re trembling,” Tech observed, his voice still low and gentle, a subtle roughness lingering from before. He tilted his head down to peer at you through his goggles—still perfectly in place, though his hair was deliciously disheveled. His hand smoothed along your back, almost as if he was trying to catalog every inch of you through careful touch.

“I’m not cold,” you whispered, a little shy, cheeks burning.

“I know,” Tech said simply, drawing a blanket up over both of you in one efficient movement anyway. “It’s a physiological response. Normal after heightened physical exertion and emotional connection.”

Despite the clinical explanation, the way he spoke was soft. He wasn’t analyzing you to create distance—he was doing it because it was how he cared.

You smiled tiredly, reaching up to push a strand of hair off his forehead. “You’re really good…You know that?” you mumbled, still a little dazed.

Tech blinked at you behind his goggles, his brows lifting ever so slightly, but them he smiles. His thumb brushed your cheekbone tenderly, voice going even softer, almost reverent. “I must admit, hearing it from you induces a rather… pleasant feeling.”

He kissed your forehead—a precise, almost formal gesture, but when his lips lingered, you could feel how much he meant it.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked after a moment, scanning you with sharp, concerned eyes. His fingers moved carefully now, checking along your sides, your thighs, your arms. His touch was featherlight but thorough. “I… may have been less restrained than I intended.”

“No,” you reassured quickly, turning your head to kiss his wrist where it hovered. “I feel perfect. Better than perfect.”

Tech gave a soft hum at that—a sound you didn’t hear often, but one that made your chest bloom with warmth. He shifted so he could lay you more securely against him, almost wrapping himself around you like a shield. One hand slipped into your hair, massaging your scalp with the same careful precision he used for everything.

“Good,” he murmured, seeming almost relieved. He paused, then added with a rare, earnest gentleness, “You are… extremely important to me. I trust you understand that.”

Your heart squeezed painfully sweet at the words. You tilted your head back to look at him. “I know, Tech,” you whispered. “I feel the same. More than same.”

He smiled—small, rare, and absolutely real. He leaned down to kiss you again, not urgent now, just lingering, slow, cherishing you. His fingers threaded with yours between your bodies, holding you together as if he’d never let go.

Under the covers, warm and wrapped up with him, you realized that with Tech, aftercare wasn’t just about checking if you were alright. It was about making sure you knew you were treasured.

And he made sure you knew—with every slow stroke of his fingers through your hair, every soft kiss to your temple, and every whispered word breathed against your skin.

You’re loved.

You weren’t sure how much time passed with you tucked against Tech’s chest, listening to his breathing, his heart beating steady and sure. His fingers never stopped moving—stroking your hair, tracing the shape of your shoulder, drawing mindless patterns on your back as if memorizing the feeling of you beneath his touch.

Little by little, the adrenaline ebbed away, replaced by a warm, heavy drowsiness that clung to both of you.

Tech shifted a little, tilting his head so he could look down at you properly. His goggles reflected the low light, but you could feel his eyes studying you—the gentle, careful way he always did when something mattered to him.

You are fatigued,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, tender smile.

“Mhm,” you hummed sleepily, nuzzling closer into the crook of his neck. His scent—clean, warm, just a hint of engine grease and soap—filled your senses, and you never wanted to move again.

Without another word, Tech adjusted the blanket more securely over both of you. His arms wrapped tighter around you, careful not to crush you but firm enough that you felt utterly safe. He shifted again, pulling you closer against his side, until your bodies fit together like two halves of a puzzle.

You felt his hand tangle lightly in your hair, fingers rubbing slow, soothing circles against your scalp. It was such a simple thing—but it sent waves of comfort through your body, relaxing muscles you hadn’t even realized were tense.

You mumbled something incoherent against his skin. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say—but Tech gave a small chuckle, low and rare and so full of affection it made your heart ache.

“You do not have to speak,” he said gently, almost amused. “Sleep, cyar’ika.”

You shifted enough to kiss the crook of his neck—soft, lingering—then let your eyes finally flutter shut. Tech kept stroking your hair, his breathing deep and steady beneath your ear, anchoring you.

Just before sleep claimed you completely, you heard him murmur, voice almost inaudible, but thick with something deeper than words:

“I will always be here.”

Safe in his arms, wrapped in warmth, love, and the soft, steady presence that was Tech, you finally drifted into sleep.

And for the first time in a long while, you dreamed of nothing but peace.

[meganegatari]

ellie ver. abby ver. no one asked for this but i'm writing it anyway! to complete the set heheh, and to have SOMETHING in my poor girl dina's section...tis barren. just saw a tumbleweed roll by, actually. warning: extremely lazy, smutty yap ahead. typed this in like .2 seconds idek-

so, to cut straight (not!!) to the chase, dina's favorite method is none of the three—strap, tribbing, or fingering. yes she loves them all, but her favorite would be oral. more specifically face-sitting, methinks. both giving and receiving, but ima talk about receiving.

when she's on top of you, i feel like she'd be very vocal. shaky, sweet-toned moans and sounds falling from her plush lips while you work your magic, and an endless sea of praises for you too. "so good, yes—just like that... don't stop." her velvety voice only eggs you on to do more, as you change your tongue into a point to circle her throbbing bud, before harshly sucking it in your mouth, and feeling her pussy gush all over your face. and fuck how you loved her thighs, you could get lost in kneading the soft flesh, tugging her closer to you with wide caresses all over her creamy skin, wherever you could reach.

you dip your skilled tongue into her quivering hole, and she takes ahold of the top of your head to brace herself, her whines of pleasure increasing in pitch. they say having a woman seated on your face is a near-godly experience, and with dina—boy did that ring true. the longer she stayed there, rocking her hips against your mouth, the less and less you wanted to leave. every move she made was somehow filled with grace and a certain elegance, no matter how lewd it was in actuality.

your eyes would flutter, your own moans muffled and shooting vibrations against her, inciting even more shockwaves of pleasure to shoot through her body. i also think she'd be an expert at keeping her composure. her voice would stay breathy, yet it would have a somewhat softly dominating, even saccharine edge to it, especially when she got close, and you had no choice but to obey.

if she was about to cum you couldn't tell just by her sounds, but by opening your eyes to look up at her and the way she had thrown her head back, her dark locks cascading around her as if they were a waterfall, and the tensing of her pussy, along with her thighs clamping your head in were all telltale signs she was there. you flatten your tongue to let her ride out the high until she's spent, gasping and trembling above you, until she falls to the side with a satisfied smile on her face.

everything everything: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine

dina everything: @claude999 @stevienicksprincessofpeace

ILL TAG PEOPLE THIS TIME CUZ WHY NAWT sign up here!

[acatnamedpusheen]

Dinner & Diatribes (Gabriel Rossetti smut)

Dante Gabriel Rossetti x fem!reader Words: 3.3K (I got carried away) Genre: Smut (18+) with some angst (half of it is literal filth) Warnings: fingering, handjob, oral fem!recieving, edging, unprotected sex (don't do that kids) Summary: The infamous painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti realises he's falling in love with Lord Whitewood's wife, when he's invited to paint her portrait. Lucky for him you're on the same page and things take a heated turn when your husband unexpectedly leaves London and you find yourself unable to stay away from the devilishly handsome painter. (I made Gabriel a lot less of a jerk and the title is one of Hozier's songs that I recently discovered and thought was perfect for this fic.) - A/N: Sorry this is going to be a bit long because I have many things to say. First and foremost, sorry for the super random tags, but I'm trying to reach the Aidan girlies out there and I'm sure nobody goes on the Desperate Romantics tags. Moving on I want to say that this is the first time in 3,5 years that I've been able to write anything and it was so liberating, because I feel like I lost a great way of expressing myself all this time. Nevertheless, please be kind to me, english is not my first laguage, this took a great amount of self pressure to actually be finished over a course of about 2 weeks and it might just be nothing but cringe (don't come at me pls). Now on to the fun part. So, apparently I'm currently hyperfixating HARD on Aidan Turner after watching Rivals and my long hair kink is just making things worse. When I tell you I could literally do anything for him. Writing the smutty part of this fic at some point had me feeling like I was in some sort of high. I mean just look.at.these.eyes dear Lord. Ok enough with the yapping omg, it's getting too tmi.

You didn't even realise how you ended up at his front door in the middle of the night. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself, in hopes of avoiding or simply delaying feeling the shame of being an awful wife to your husband, Lord Whitewood.

You knew you'd find him there, at the old greenhouse he called home, under the gentle warm light of the candles, working on either some new sketch, or your portrait. And after catching a glimpse of him actually immersed in the latter, you felt your heart flutter. He turned away from his painting abruptly when he heard the door open and for a moment he believed he hallucinated you standing in front of him, because of the endless hours he'd been working on your portrait. But the way you stood there, your chest heaving, your frame slightly trembling from how nervous you were and your eyes glinting that all too familiar spark, he knew you were really there in the flesh. And it felt just like the first time he'd ever seen you, that day at your husband's house.

Lord Dorian Whitewood, a great fan of the arts, had shown interest in the works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti and after paying him a couple of visits to his studio to buy a few paintings, he invited him to his house to request a portrait of his beloved wife. Little did he know, that this would be the very start of a great forbidden love.

Rossetti was known to have a weakness for women. He would never hesitate having his way with any of his models at any time he'd please and could swear he'd never settle for just one woman. Until the moment he saw you sitting in that room waiting for him to start your portrait. He felt something he'd never felt before, but couldn't really explain it. This surely wasn't because of how majestically the light from the window ever so gently illuminated your face or your thick hair that fell freely on your shoulders. No, there was definitely something utterly unique about your aura.

"Lady Whitewood" he paused as he rose from his seat "What brings you here at this hour?" his eyes betrayed hopes that this wasn't really what he thought it was. Of course he couldn't be more pleased with the idea of finally getting to have you, evern for a single night, but he knew this could all possibly lead to a big scandal that would harm his already bad reputation. He never thought his flirting, which always came so naturally, so involuntarily, would actually have such effect on you so as to come running to him in the middle of the night alone.

Did he really worry so much about a potential scandal, though, or was it all just a cover for the fear that he might have actually fallen in love and you'll forever remain out of his reach?

"Dorian is out of town. He left for Oxford this morning, his brother has fallen ill. I might have to travel soon too, but for the time being, he insisted I stay here in London." He stood silent, looking at you straight in the eyes, waiting for your next words.

"I haven't been able to get the thought of you out of my mind, Gabriel." you admitted hesitant to move, while your gaze fell to the floor. Gabriel took a few steps forward instead, until he was right before you, lifting your chin up with one hand, locking eyes with you yet again. Just as he'd done that day at your husband's house while he was trying to figure out which pose would be better for his painting.

"You look absolutely stunning, do you know that?" he said walking back to his canvas after finishing with his adjustements on you. "I'd be lying if I said I'm completely oblivious to this fact." you replied teasingly, without looking at him, maintaining your pose. You were a confident woman after all, never afraid to show it when you had to.

"Does your husband know that?" his voice sounded lower than before making you feel things forbidden for a married woman. Gabriel's question took you so much by surprise that you turned to face him, only to realise he was doing the exact same thing. His eyes fixed on you, his gaze hungry, full of lust. Gabriel was a confident man too, never stopping himself from getting what he desired, never afraid to show it blatantly and straight away.

"Are you trying to tell me something Mr. Rossetti?"

"I'm just making sure that a beautiful woman like you is appreciated in the way she deserves, Lady Whitewood." You turned away, resuming your pose, trying to ignore how his smirk was igniting the heat deep within your core.

You liked your husband Dorian, he was a kind man who treated you well, took care of you. At this very moment, however, you were beginning to question whether you actually, genuinely loved him. He was a dear friend to you and your family, 10 years older than you. The marriage was of course arranged but you'd known Dorian for a long time, you trusted him. Was it ever something more than that, though? You never had such thoughts because, to your bitter realisation, you'd never actually fallen in love with someone. Up until now, that this devilishly handsome painter, who also seemed to be much closer to your age, stood opposite you almost every day, for far too many hours than your sanity would have preferred.

"Would you consider sitting for me for other paintings as well?" his voice interrupted your thoughts after a while of silence. You laughed bitterly."You clearly know this is no occupation for a lady. My husband would never allow it."

"Do you want to, though?" he insisted, not once breaking away from his canvas.

"Mr. Rossetti, are you asking me to go against the morals of our society for what I, a mere woman, want?" you kept looking straight ahead, trying hard not to glance at him.

"Would that be so bad?"

You scoffed at the audacity of his question before answering "Perhaps it really wouldn't, if we were living under any other circumstances."

"And what would the ideal circumstances be?" he continued, acting completely oblivious. "Are we playing some sort of game here, Mr. Rossetti?" you broke your pose again to bring him within your field of vision. "You and I both know what I'm talking about."

"Please call me Gabriel and no, I don't quite understand why someone can't have a bit of fun from time to time" he had left his work and strode his way to where you were sitting. His eyes bore into yours, a subtle smirk danced on his lips.

"Because as I've mentioned, I'm a woman that also happens to be married. And I respect and love my husband." the words sounded so foreign to you as you spoke. You were using every ounce of willpower to stop yourself from rising from your seat and falling in the arms of Gabriel, who was now slowly walking to your side, then your back, trying to carefully pick his next sentence.

An ever so light flinch was inevitable when he placed both his hands on your shoulders. You'd be heavily lying if you didn't admit you wanted them on every other inch of your body as well. He could feel his effect on you. If only you could feel yours on him. He wanted nothing more than to turn you around and crash his lips to yours hard. Instead, he contained himself, and whispered his reply close to your ear: "I don't really believe we'd still be having this conversation if that last part was true."

A knock on the door, brought you both back to reality and Gabriel moved away from you just as the maid came in with some tea. For a split second you believed it was Dorian, having somehow heard everything, coming in to catch you red handed. "If you do change your mind, however, you know where to find me." he gave you a quick wink, referring to his initial request earning him a stern look from you as the maid had yet to leave the room.

"Tell me you never truly wanted me to come. Tell me I shouldn't be here, I should be home, I should stay loyal to my husband." you pleaded, his pained expression was already telling you he didn't want you to leave.

"I could never lie to you, my dear." his lips now inches away from yours, god knew how he had been holding himself all this time. It was different with you. It always had been. He never felt the animalistic urge he felt when he was with a prostitute. No, he felt the need to treat you like fine porcelain, he could never break you. And so he contained himself, only for you to take him by surprise when you crashed your lips to his. His hands instinctively cupped your face as yours found purchase on his shoulders. Before you had time to indulge in one another, however, you pushed him away-one final attempt to avoid infidelity.

"This is madness!" you panted "We have to stop!" tears were welling up in your eyes. You wanted him so much it was painful. Yet, you still tried to convince yourself it was less painful than living the rest of your life knowing you had cheated on Dorian.

"But do you want to stop?" he raised his voice slightly, with a firm grip on the side of your upper arms, making you look at his hungry eyes. "These ideal circumstances that we were talking about are right here, right now. No one knows about this besides us. So if you still truly wish to stop, you're free to leave." he couldn't push you, but could at least try to persuade you. He needed you as much as you needed him.

"You're right I do want to stop, I got carried away, I shouldn't have come in the first place." you lied and felt him slowly release you letting you turn away to leave and put an end to this brief encounter. No sooner had you taken two steps than he caught your arm, spun you around and met you in a heated kiss that you neither could nor wanted to escape.

One hand on his chest the other tangled in his black locks, you let out a quiet moan as you felt him squeeze your waist and swipe his tongue over your lower lip. You granted him access and the groan he involuntarily let out hit you straight in your aching core. Breaking away from your lips, his mouth travelled to your jaw, then your neck, all while his skilled fingers had started working on the buttons of your outer gown. Kissing you was no longer enough, he had to feel you under his touch and was pleased to see you were on the same page as he sensed your hands on his waistcoat.

A pause was much needed for the unbuttoned items to be discarded. Gabriel then watched you take off your petite coat skirt, leaving yourself in nothing but your corset and short undergarment. He was quick to stop you from going any further.

"Let me, sweetheart." his fingertips momentarily brushed over the exposed skin of your breasts before moving to undo your corset, giving you goosebumps. Although very eager, his hands worked steadily, slow even, as if he was trying to imprint every little detail of the moment in his mind. Yours on the contrary, seemed to be moving on their own, finding their way along Gabriel's dishevelled dress shirt and opening it all the way down.

Once your corset was undone, he peeled the straps off your shoulders and took a step back to admire his 'work'.

"Breathtaking" he whispered with a smirk upon finally eyeing your exposed chest under the faint light of the candles and you felt the need to cover yourself. "Don't hide from me, darling." he came closer once more, opening your arms and placing them on his still half-clad torso instead, for you to free him of his shirt.

As soon as it was off, he attacked your lips yet again. The kiss being more heated than the previous, with the addition of the newfound feeling of each other's skin. Gabriel's strong hands on your waist turned you around and pressed you against him, before moving to undo the final piece of clothing separating him from your body, letting it pool around your feet. "Can you feel what you do to me, what you've been doing to me all this time?" he murmured breathlessly on the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

"Gabriel...please..." your voice was barely above a whisper, his erection undeniably pocking your ass through his pants. Hearing his name fall from your lips in such lust coated way, had him loosing his self control, unable to stop his hands from leaving your waist and roaming your bare skin as he kept kissing the side of your neck.

One hand finally found its way to one of your breasts, greedily kneading it earning himself sighs of pleasure. The other hand, travelled south, his fingers brushing your wet folds, to land on your clit."All this for me, darling?" he was panting, already lost in your body and the way you reacted under his touch. "Only for you" you moaned, eyes shut, trying to take in all the pleasure. You couldn't help but reach one hand behind your back and palm him, to which he reacted with a low grunt and a bite on your shoulder.

"Careful darling, you wouldn't want me to paint your skin with my teeth, would you?" he elicited another moan from you before his hands stopped their ministrations to grab your waist and turn you to face him once again. "Now get ready to jump." he flashed you his signature smirk that was enough to have you coming undone right then and there, as you felt him grip the back of your thighs.

You did as you were ordered to, tangling your legs around his waist and slipping your arms around his neck, letting him carry you to the bed and spill you on the sheets. He barely had time to remove his pants, before you pushed yourself up to kiss him hungrily and pull him back down on the bed with you. One hand on the curls you could never get enough of, the other reaching for his cock, gently beginning to squeeze and pump him.

Soon, Gabriel was a moaning and grunting mess around your hand. You had moved to straddle him, while he was propped on his elbows, head thrown back in pure bliss, giving you access to leave kisses on his neck. It wasn't long before he felt he was getting close and that's when he sat up to stop you. "Not yet, I want to give you more." he was out of breath but had no intention of giving himself time to catch it, so he met you in a desperate kiss as he laid you down on the sheets.

"I was thoroughly enjoying it, though." you grinned cheekily once he broke the kiss. "Patience, my dear, for the best is yet to come." he placed one final kiss on your lips before starting a trail down your jaw, neck and collarbones, stopping right on the valley of your breasts to glide his tongue on one of your nipples. Your arms found their place on his toned back as he began sucking, your moans getting mixed with his low grunts. He briefly switched to your other mound, growing too impatient to continue his trail south. Going past your navel, he paused upon reaching your pubic bone and while maintaining eye contact, giving you his dirtiest looks, his hands found your knees and spread your legs further apart.

You tensed and let out a gasp when you felt his mouth on your clit. "Relax darling, I just want to make you feel good." the look he gave you was intoxicating, pupils dilated, lips parted, you wanted him to have you in any way he pleased and so you proceeded to push his head down to where you truly needed him the most. Your fingers found their all too familiar place between his black curls as he ate you out like a starved man. His strong hands holding your hips as his mouth alternated between kissing, licking and sucking, earning himself the filthiest of sounds escaping your lips.

But just as you were starting to feel that all too familiar tightening deep in your core, Gabriel's mouth was no longer on you. Instead, he moved to hover over you, his lips glistening with your arousal under the warm candlelight, hair a mess from your pulling. A sight that definitely seemed like it was coming straight out of a fantasy.

"I need you, Gabriel." you didn't care if you sounded ridiculously desperate, you were for this man. You wouldn't have come running to him in the middle of the night once your husband was out of town if you weren't.

"Tell me how you need me, sweetheart." he knew full well what you were both aching for at that very moment, but still wanted to hear your words.

"Hard and slow, then you can do as you please." you'd barely finished your sentence before he entered you in one swift movement, dragging out a long moan from you to match his own groan. And he did as you asked, setting a slow pace with long hard strokes. You were bitting your lips trying to stifle your moans.

"Let me hear you, let me hear how I'm the only one making you feel like this." this pace was already too hard for him to maintain, he craved more and reached for your clit to get exactly that and the next moan of his name was no longer silent.

He started picking up the pace, his strokes remaining deep. You were both close after previously taking your time to indulge in each other's bodies.

You'd be lying if you said you could recall a time when Dorian had gotten you this close to the edge of heaven.

Gabriel's strokes were now getting sloppier as he buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, his thumb never leaving your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Let go for me, darling, I know you're close. He was breathless, barely able to contain his release with the way your walls were gripping him. "I want to feel you too, Gabriel." it was all it took for him to loose control and come undone within you. His heavenly sounds pushing you over the edge shortly after. His name was the only thing leaving your lips as your nails run down the tensed muscles of his back.

You rode out your highs and stayed tangled in each other for a few moments, trying to regain a sense of reality. Both dreading to look into each other's eyes after what you'd done. You wanted this night to last forever, the sun to never rise. Hoping that this way you'd never have to face the cold reality in which you were an infidel wife and your newfound lover had to live the rest of his life in the embrace of other women to try and forget the one who had managed to show him how love truly felt.

-

[butterfly-stitches]

DOG-EAT-DOG.

[ Explicit ] // MDNI

AO3

Pairings: Russell Adler x Bell, Russell Adler x Reader Ensemble: Russell Adler, Reader, Male!Bell, Helen A. Park, Jason Hudson, Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin, Perseus

* Rape/Non-Con * Graphic Depictions Of Violence * Major Character Death Alternate Universe, Physical and Psychological Abuse, Non-Sexual and Sexual Submission, Dom/Sub Undertones, Ownership, Dehumanization, Dog Fighting, Obedience, Size Difference, Degradation, Hurt No Comfort, Power Imbalance, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Trauma, Loss of Identity, Rough Kissing, Watersports, Blood and Gore, Dry Humping, Protectiveness, Possessive Behavior, Human Ashtray, Master/Pet, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Leg Humping, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Animal Metaphors, Bondage and Discipline, Finger Sucking, Hand Feeding, Leashes, Sleep Deprivation, Touch Aversion, Non-Consensual Touching / Groping, Dissociation, Praise Kink < Other Additional Tags to Be Added >

A guard dog to some, a hunting hound for many. But to one, you were nothing but a yapping lapdog. Spoiled rotten, overstepping, treated equally when you were nothing but a prized possession, a pampered pet; a damn dog.

Lured away, you’re brought out back, hung up like a carcass, beaten to a pulp, and put down like the animal you are. But what is dead may never die. As you’re soon found and taken in -– rescued, adopted. Belonging now to a scarred man. A new owner, a new master with a cruel hand and even crueler intentions. Stubborn, aggressive, unruly, you were leashed, collared, muzzled. Forced to obeisance, forced to submit. His ambition, his will; now, your purpose.

But every dog has its day. And you’re just biding your time. For if a dog was man’s best friend, it wouldn’t be a dog-eat-dog world.

---------------------------------------------------- WARNING: ➡ Dead Dove: Do Not Eat ⬅ Please, mind the tags. Take a second to read them over to see if you're comfortable enough to move forward. Bell is dehumanized, degraded, and abused. Apart of a back-end system where there are literal owners and those that are literally owned -- pets. Seen as nonhuman, as nothing but a dog. A companion even, if one's owner is kind enough. Here, Adler is overly cruel, abusive, controlling, manipulative, and forceful with an all-embracing god complex. Seeing Bell as nothing but a means to an end. To do with as he pleases when he pleases. Please proceed with caution and please take this warning into account. Otherwise, enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: cornered animal.

[1 / 7]

Words: 2,025 Summary: In which you awaken …

You were slipping in and out of consciousness.

Stranded in a sort of limbo. On the fine line of sleep and death. Between the distorted planes of both reality and dreams that blurred into one. Rendering you sightless and senseless; numb.As if you were floating, set adrift. Carried away in a dreary astral sea that was boundless and as it was endless, for which there was no end nor beginning. Infinite, indefinite. A perpetual stagnation like a serpent eating its own tail; a self-inflicted, self-induced ouroboros. Where you knew no ending.

But on occasion there were slips in this nightmarish, dreamlike in-betweenness. Anomalies, abnormalities. Like small bumps on a clear stretch of roadway. Where you somehow became aware, and your surroundings bleed through. They were fleeting as they were rare and inconsistent. Just fractures of memory that you could barely process or even recall. Muddled, mangled, nonsensical in your brain’s fried synapses. 

Sights : shadows at the edge of your vision, distorted blurs of figures in front of you, the glint of scalpels in scialytic lamps. Smells: rusted iron, peroxide, bleach, oxidation. Sounds: disembodied voices, hushed whispering, harsh conversations, high-pitched beeping, and worst of all, a ghostly chime of a bell in the distance. Ringing over and over and over again in your head. Sensations: the sting of needles into your arms, piercing into your veins. A suture needle sewing thread through your skin as easily as any fabric. Blood filling your mouth from a bitten tongue. The burn of ropes around your wrists and ankles. 

But as quick as these sights, smells, sounds and sensations came, it all went, disappearing. From remembrance, from your recollection. And again you were pulled down under, soft as a falling feather. Back into inertia, lost in comatose, stuck in stasis. 

That is.. until you woke up. 

It was a painstakingly slow wake. One that left you groggy, disoriented, and insensate. Even more so as there was only darkness to greet you. A nightless night underneath a starless sky. It was hard to fully register, such a new feeling of consciousness and corporeality. Far too accustomed to the weightless ebb and flow of oblivion that cradled your fragile state of nonexistence. There came a precipitous flood of feelings; physical, psychological. Newly felt sensations, newly realized sensibilities. Confusion, uncertainty, panic.

Pain. 

Dulled, diluted. Yet still perceivable, still tangible even in the disposition you woke up with. The feel of the first manual breath as you gasped aloud for air. The pattern of a pulse that throbbed underneath the skin, the steady rapid-fire pulse of a heartbeat. Eyelids that were hard to keep open fully. A tongue that was like lead, dry and heavy, and stuck to the roof of your mouth. A jawbone that ached from grinding your molars together.

A body that felt boneless, slow moving. Too heavy to keep yourself upright from the cold ground. It was too much, it was all too much. Overstimulated, overwhelmed. Taken from the womb like a newborn. You felt yourself spiraling, afflicted by shock, beset with qualmishness. Free-falling into an abyss, carried away by an event horizon,. Instinctively, you curled into yourself. Limbs pulled close to your body, knees drawn up towards your chest.

Then there came a sound. 

Loud, echoing. Grounding you, forcing your focus. Sobering you up as you stilled in anticipation by the marching of footsteps that steadily approached you. Two sets, on either side of you. There came a voice. Rough and sonorous, calling out from the dark. You couldn’t comprehend what it said. Suppressed by your mind. It held no meaning to you. But it should, it seemed, by the voice repeating it again. Insistence with each verbal reiteration, only honing the voice sharper and harsher as patience wore thin. While you just stared out blankly into the dark. Only when the voice said it a final time, hoarse and full-throated, did you realize that it was an order being spoken to you . A command waiting to be obeyed and fulfilled by you . 

But you stayed put. Unmoving, unyielding. Unaffected by the voice’s importuning. Whether by choice or from circumstance, you couldn’t make sense of your willingness to stay and need to disobey. And by the sudden silence, it seemed that the voice pondered something similar or  second-guessing perhaps. The silence lasted for a long while until you heard the shuffling of feet, the movement of bodies. There was a quiet exchange of words between two voices now.

The conversation didn’t last long as you heard the retreat of a pair of footsteps. Only for the other to slowly come closer a few seconds after the first one left. These steps were heavy-footed, with a wide and easy stride. No doubt a man, tall and sizeable. Not less or more than you, you think. More importantly, one that was overconfident and heedless. You weren’t being perceived as a threat, but rather a nuisance. Hearing the footsteps approaching closer and closer made you bristle up. Gooseflesh breaking out across your skin like burning hives.

The footsteps came to a stop right in front of you. A darker outline just perceivable in the dark. Your head didn’t move but your eyes flicked up slightly from the ground where you lay, still curled into yourself. You felt a pair of eyes, staring down at you. Looking you over, wondering if your unresponsiveness was because you were nothing but cadaver rotting away in the dark. Then your body was jolted forward so abruptly that you didn’t have time to process what happened. Taking you a whole second to finally realize that you had been prodded by a heavy boot. 

Then again as if the man was a child poking at something interesting in the underfoot with a stick until it reacted or boringly didn’t for that matter. With another nudge of his boot, more weight added to it this time, all you could do was curl into yourself tighter, tucking your face away and against your chest. Folding into yourself further, wishing to collapse into yourself and just vanish into thin air. Free from your skin, from what came with consciousness.

The man hummed, seemingly chuffed. He spoke a string of words, more of a murmur than anything. Something spoken underneath his breath. Talking to himself more than anything as he thought to himself. Though you were more lucid, your brain was still a bit lagged. It took you a long moment before you could absorb his words. Understand what was said:

 “Not dead then, just half-dead.” The man had uttered. “Got one foot in the grave, but the other’s still kicking.”

Movement in your peripheral as he crouched down in front of you. You untucked your head from your chest. Eyes slightly widened in response to the action. 

 “M’not here to hurt you.” His voice dipped low, a faux gentleness. To pretend benignity that he lacked. “M’here to take you to your examination.”

You didn’t move, couldn’t. Just blinked blearily up at him, lost in thought, teetering at the cusp of dissociation. He clicked his tongue, catching your attention as you snapped out of it, making your ears perk up at the sound. 

“C’mon then.”

The man nudged his chin over his shoulder, hoping you would get his implication to get up and follow. But you didn’t move. Trying instead to discern his facial features. Like a Polaroid camera lens trying to find focus at night. But found nothing but a shadow, a faceless face to you. 

“Hey, you listenin’ to me?” He snapped in your face, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

When you still didn't get the memo, you heard him let out a heavy huff before abruptly standing. 

“Alright. M’done playing nice. Looks like I gotta make you get up.”

The man reached out towards you. Intending to grab you forcefully by the scruff of your neck. There was no hesitation as you acted out of gut reaction. You lunged forward, biting the outstretched hand before you. 

“Agh — ya fuckin’ mutt! ” The man hissed through clenched teeth. 

He tried to pull his hand away but the effort only encouraged you. You only bit down harder. Until you heard him yelp and scream. Felt the popping of flesh. The burst of breaking skin as your teeth sunk in deeper. The taste of blood on your tongue was exciting. Even as his fist came down onto you, hitting and smacking down on your head to get you to let go of him, but you didn't let up. Even as you ached.

The hitting quickly turned to battering and kicking, desperate to free himself from your grasp. With a strong yank, he forced his hand away, ripping it out from your mouth. Taking one of your canines along with it, still embedded in his hand like a piece of broken ceramic. But you didn’t feel the pain of its loss, benumbed by adrenaline. The sudden lack of leverage drove you backwards, falling to the ground, as the man stumbled back. Holding his afflicted hand in his other, the rapid sound of dripping liquid hitting the floor. Like the pealing of a bell. 

But you didn't allow him to react. At that tell-tale sign of weakness, of opportunity. You pounced. Toppling the man to the ground, on his back. Your nails reached his face, scratching, clawing. Even as his initial surprise passed and he defended himself. Even as you felt some of your nails peeling back to the root from the viciousness of your swipes. Even as he tore hair from your scalp, trying to pull you away. But it didn’t stop you nor dissuade you. And it wasn’t long before your teeth found his throat, and you bit down. Harder and harder like you did to his hand.  Until cartilage cracked, until your mouth filled with blazing blood, until you felt his struggle began to wane. 

Until you felt him choking. Slow and steady suffocation by the crushing of his windpipe.

There was a rush of movement from the dark. Silhouettes rushed forward.Yelling and screaming. From others, other voices, other shadow people. You were pulled off of the man quickly, suddenly. Your teeth were still embedded into the throat. Still holding on, teething and chewing. Dragging the man with you. Until the shift of your body, your quick misbalance made you let go. But your focus was solely still on the man laid out on the floor, not yet dead, yet not lively. Half-dead. Blood ebbed and flowed, frothing at the exposure of torn open flesh. Effervesced through the puncture wounds in his neck as the man struggled to breath. Gasping, choking, gurgling. 

Still alive. Alive still, not dead yet. Still not dead.

But you were forced away. Dragged back until the dying man was hidden from view by a swarm of silhouettes. You were detained on the ground. Forced into compliance by being outnumbered. But that didn’t stop you from trying, clawing and squirming. Teeth gnashing violently as you tried to bite down on anything careless enough to get within reach. Your neck was yanked to the side, forcing you flat on the floor. 

You noticed something stood just at the edge of your sight among all the chaos. Someone . More discernible to you than the current vicinity, than those here and now detaining you. More sensational than your failed predation attempt. Shades crept in the dark, glinting like a cat’s eye. There, where the tenebrosity seemed the most concentrated and the most condensed. A deep, dark impression that cut an imposing and impressive figure in the background. Watching, waiting — onlooking.

As a needle gleamed above your head and a sharp pain burned when it sunk into your held-down forearm. It was fast-acting, almost instantaneous.Your vision began to dim, your surroundings fading away. It was getting harder to stay attentive, to fight back. To remain awake. Administered now with whatever was coursing through your veins, diluting your adrenaline rush. Pacifying you, until you were no longer a threat. 

Submerged back in stasis, lost at sea. Surrounded solely by a boundless nothingness once more. 

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A/N:

Critique welcomed and encouraged as long as it is constructive and polite (don't be rude/mean pretty please ◡̈ ). Also if I made any mistakes, grammar or otherwise, please to let me know.

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| Next ⮞

[hippiegoth97]

Random Steve Thought #2

A/N: This one really got away from me, sorry lol. But I hope you all enjoy! And Spencer Reid is up next :)

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, swearing, sub!steve harrington, dom!reader, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, grinding, jealousy, alcohol use, light violence, praise, dirty talk, groping, cock stroking (not quite handjob), restraints, teasing, edging, kissing

Some Tags: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @bimbogorewhore @queenimmadolla @keikoraven

@rattkween86 @morning-rituals @slowandsteddie @stalactitekilla @keeksandgigz

@strangererotica @thisusernameisunavailable01 @leelei1980

You've been driving him crazy all night. It's his own fault, really. He's the one who insisted on dragging you to this lame party in the first place. Of course, it's a bit hard to skip out on a rager that's being held at his own fraternity. His 'brothers' wouldn't hear of it when Steve tried to give all the excuses under the sun, exams coming up, a headache, a 'hot date' with a girl that most certainly isn't you. He can't have everyone knowing he's been getting dominated by the campus' resident man-eater every other night, especially not the macho men he happens to board with.

So, here you both are, having a totally miserable time. Well, Steve is, anyway. You, on the other hand, have managed to keep yourself entertained until the appropriate time comes for you to slip away to your dorm. You've got a red plastic cup full of fruit-flavored swill in your hand, the other running lazily along the chest of some random guy you have absolutely no intention of sleeping with. But you giggle at his bad jokes, flutter your eyelashes at him, pretend you give a shit about his trust fund. All while Steve watches you from the other side of the room.

Steve knows you don't have any interest in that douchebag, some jagoff from a different frat house, though he forgets which one. But jealousy burns in his chest all the same, his neck heating up as he can't pry his eyes away from the torturous display. It's not fair, he should be handcuffed to your bed right now, begging for mercy as you toy with his leaking cock at a snail's pace for hours, until you finally grant him release down that seemingly endless throat of yours. Steve clears his own throat at the thought, turning his attention to one of his brothers yapping away about some 'big titty bimbo' he banged last night.

The party goes on for a while, music bumping and beers being chugged away as a sea of bodies fills the middle of the floor. You've brought your conversation partner into the tangle to dance, your eyes finding Steve on the outside of the crowd to make sure he's paying attention. Sure enough, you find his gaze stuck to you, his beer can held firmly in his hand as he observes. His lips are tight and flat, it appears you're getting under his skin. Good. You give him a small smirk, before turning away to focus on your prop of the evening.

The man puts his hands on your hips as you begin to move to the music, firm and possessive right off the bat. You despise men acting like they own you, almost as much as you hate frat parties. But you play along, pretending to be the demure little flower you most definitely aren't. This is all for Steve, to show him what he's missing. For now. You turn yourself around in the man's grip, pressing your back into his chest. Your arms reach behind to wrap casually around his neck to keep him close, leading him to grind with you to the beat of the awful music that's blasting through the speakers.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the moment as you imagine Steve dancing with you instead of this asshole. It's absurdly easy to picture him behind you, holding you tightly as you roll your hips in perfect sync. His strong hands wander over your body, grazing over your tits through your dress, all the way down to your thighs. There's no feeling of ownership in his touch, just admiration. You grind against your stand-in a little harder, quickly noticing his cock poking into your ass. It's not nearly as big as Steve's, which is sadly breaking the illusion for you. You suddenly realize just how stupid this all is, breaking out of the man's grasp. Steve is who you truly want, punishment or not, and you've been here long enough to make a clean exit with him now.

"Hey, where you goin'?" The man asks, stepping forward to reach for your arm.

"Home." You say curtly, snatching yourself away from his grasp.

"What? We were just getting started!" He says angrily, continuing to approach you. "You can't get me all riled up like this, and just walk away!"

"Actually, I can." You say with a laugh, turning to push your way through the crowd and find Steve.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" The man yells, drawing the attention of a few drunk partygoers. He grabs hold of your arm, pulling you towards him roughly.

"Let me go, you creep!" You shout, smacking him across the cheek. Your nail scratches his flesh, making him bleed a little.

Steve's been watching this entire time, which hurt like a bitch, at first. To see you grinding against some other guy, when it should be him. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when you quickly became bored, obviously more interested in finding him and getting the fuck out of here. Of course, your choice in dance partner isn't the type to take 'no' for an answer. Steve's been waiting, thinking you can hold your own. You've told him many times that he doesn't need to 'swoop in and save you', and he never disagreed. But in this moment, it seems you could use some assistance. And he's more than happy to oblige. He cuts through the crowd, heading straight for you.

"Hey, asshole!" Steve says to the jerk who's holding you captive, finding your gaze for a moment. He gives you a subtle nod, and you return it. The other man turns, still gripping your arm so hard it hurts. Without another word, Steve socks him right in the face, sending him to the floor. A few people take notice, though they quickly return to partying after a glazed-over glance at the man on the ground. He'll be fine, they collectively tell themselves. "C'mon." Steve says, taking your hand to lead you out of here.

"Thanks for that." You say once the two of you are outside, ready to make the journey to the dorms.

"Of course." He nods as you start to walk down the sidewalk. "Look, I know you hate all that chivalry stuff-" He starts, but you cut him off.

"No, it's fine, really. You only stepped in because you had to. I'll let it slide...just this once." You say with a giggle, earning a chuckle from his as well.

"Noted." Steve says agreeably.

The trip to the dorms is relatively short, the campus isn't exactly huge. Your feet are very thankful once you reach the brick building, however. The heels you've been wearing haven't exactly been broken in to your liking just yet. You lead Steve to your room, turning the key in the lock and kicking your shoes off once you're inside. Your roommate is out for the night, staying over with her boyfriend in the boys' dorm across the street. Steve sheds his own shoes, and you're on him in a second afterwards.

Your lips press into his hungrily, your hands resting on his chest as you lead him backwards toward the bed. Steve hums against you, already melting into that delightful, fuzzy headspace you've built just for him. A damn kiss really shouldn't affect him so much, but yours are like nothing else he's ever experienced. He falls onto his back as he knees his the edge of the bed, with you climbing on top of his lap while refusing to let him catch his breath.

"Have you learned your lesson about dragging me to bullshit parties, Stevie?" You ask as you pull away, gazing down at him with piercing eyes.

"Yes. I promise, I'll never take you to one again." Steve responds instantly, unable to hide his need for your approval.

"Good boy." You purr, giving him another brief kiss while you grab hold of the hem of his shirt. He sits up for you, and you lift it over his head. The shirt finds its way to the floor, leaving his heaving chest in full view. You admire his gorgeous muscles for a moment, running your hands along his torso. "I will say...it was a little fun to make you jealous. Even if it blew up in my face." You speak softly.

"It worked. I can't stand to see you with anyone else." He replies, his cock already straining beneath you in his jeans. Less than a minute and he's rock hard, that's got to be a record.

"I know, baby. That's why I did it. The look on your face was priceless." You roll your hips over him once, drawing a low groan from his lips. You can practically feel his dick throbbing under you, aware of how desperate he must be to be touched by you. But the fun is just beginning. "Tell me what was going through this pretty little head of yours when you saw me with him." You command as you cup his cheek, your words whispered into the dim light of the room.

"I felt sad...and angry." He starts, earning another roll of your hips against his crotch. His breath catches, his eyes not daring to leave yours. "I know we're not, like, officially together. But I like you so much, and I like what we have." He pauses, realizing how cheesy this sounds.

"So do I, my sweet boy." You coo to him, grinding on him once again. You let out a small moan, the friction making a rather sticky mess of your panties. "Go on, tell me more. Were you thinking about me?" You ask, guiding him further into submission. You want to hear all the dirty things inside his head, what's got him so riled up so easily. It can't all be from your charms, though you'll admit you're quite talented at turning people on.

"Yes. I wanted to blow off that stupid party, and be here with you instead." Steve replies, watching as your hands reach for his belt now. You slowly undo the buckle, expecting him to keep talking. "I thought about you handcuffing me, like you always do." He says through a groan as you give him another small reward of your soaked pussy rubbing along his stiff cock through annoying layers of clothes. You slide his zipper down its track, and he tries to keep his mouth and his brain on the same page. "I thought about how good your mouth feels on me, how wet and warm it is. And -fuck, the way you tease me for what feels like hours." He explains as you finally take his leaking dick out of his jeans and briefs, fisting it roughly in your hand.

"Yeah? You like the way I get you all worked up, 'til you're nearly screaming for me to let you cum?" You question with a wolfish smile, watching the way Steve's brows scrunch into each other and his mouth falls open. You pump his length in your hand, his precum already drooling down to your wrist in a sticky trail.

"Yeah, I love it...so much." He whimpers as you squeeze him hard, making more pearlescent fluid spill out in a helpless dribble.

"Is that what you want me to do to you tonight, baby?" You offer, hoping he says 'yes'. The way he's trying so hard not to squirm, and the pathetic noises he's making are getting you wetter by the second.

"Uh-huh." He nods frantically, his breath coming out ragged as you stroke him rougher and faster. He knows you're only bringing him right to the edge, without letting him fall over it. That won't happen for a good long while. And that's exactly the way he wants it.

"Anything for my good boy. Get the cuffs for me, and we'll get you nice and tied up." You order, releasing his dick from your grip. He whines at the loss, but obeys your instructions. He locates the handcuffs, giving them to you and laying down to get in position. You straddle his thighs as you click the cuffs in place, the links stuck between the slats on your bedframe. You gaze down at him one final time, his cock still out, stiff and dripping all over his mound of hair and stomach. "Look at you, already such a mess." You tut, cocking your head to the side teasingly. "Let's see how much messier we can get."

[ticklishdeadpool]

Shut The Fuck Up

Deadpool & Wolverine

Word count: 1471

Notes: Hi, this is my first Marvel fic!!! I’ve been writing for a while now, but this is my first time writing for these characters! I’m super new 💚 One reblog = one forehead kiss from me to you. This is a tickle fic btw. So, ao3 tag Tooth-Rotting Fluff. And everyone thank @snugglyfluffle for being my beta, and check them out too. 💚

Warnings: Wolverine gets a little stabby here.

Part two here!

Logan let the door slam behind him and nodded slowly as his eyes followed Wade across the room. He was unphased by the noise, still consumed in his one-sided conversation.

“One day you’ll sell as many cars as me. I can give you some selling tips. And style tips.”, Wade kept on. Logan grimaced as he watched the man tear that ugly toupee off his head.

“I don’t need style tips.”, Logan sighed. “Wait, you only sold one car today.”.

“How many did you sell?”, Wade spun around to face him. Logan glared.

“None, but-“.

“Exactly!”, Wade plopped on the couch and laughed. Logan followed behind him, exasperated. Wade had gotten him a job at the same car dealership as him. “It’s because you’re so grumpy all the time.”. Wade smirked and poked at Logan’s side as he sat down next to him.

“Hey!”.

“You have to lighten up! Or at least pretend for the customers. They ask a few too many questions and you start growling.”.

“No I don’t!”, Logan snapped and shoved Wade away. His head was ringing from the endless energy radiating from the other man. “Seriously, do you ever shut the fuck up?”. But, Wade was more interested in Logan’s little reaction to the side poke.

“No…not really…”, he murmured, then poked him again. Logan jolted and shoved him harder.

“Fuck off!”, he yelled.

Wade smirked and shoved him back. Getting a reaction out of Logan was always really exciting…even though it was usually rage.

“Ticklish?”, he teased. The flash of anger in Logan’s eyes made him giggle with excitement. “Always so touchy.”, he leaned in and reached for his side again. In a flash, he was on his back on the couch staring up at an angry Wolverine.

“That’s enough.”, Logan growled. Wade fought with his hands trying to grab his own.

“See!! You growl!!”, he yelled and jerked his hands from side to side. “Your foreplay is kind of violent, but I’m into it for sure.”.

That seemed to push Logan over the edge.

With a surge of strength, Logan grabbed Wade’s wrists and pressed them to the couch above his head.

“Alright Peanut, what are we doing here?”, Wade laughed and pushed roughly against the hold. His wrists only lifted a few inches before being pinned back down. Literally. Wade cried out as Logan unsheathed his claws on one hand and stabbed them straight through both of Wade’s wrists and into the couch. “Hey!!!”, he yelled and slammed his head back into the couch. The pain flared for a few seconds before his body started to regenerate around the blades. It didn’t fade entirely, but he could breathe after a while. “Now there’s blood on the couch!!”.

“There was already blood on the couch!”.

“But, now there’s more! And it’s fresh! Blind Al is going to be mad and I’m going to tell her how you were being a little freak and wanted to pin me down for your weird-“.

“Shut up! Fuck! Wade! Shut! Up! Shut up! You never shut up!”, Logan yelled.

“Shut up?! You could have just gone to your room to be alone, but instead you pin me down on the couch and what? You want me to just be quiet so you can have your way with me? I’m obviously going to protest!”, Wade yelled as he squirmed around.

“You’re not protesting! You’re just fucking yapping!”.

Wade huffed and stared back up at Logan. He actually didn’t know why the other man had him pinned and was a little lost on how to get out without tearing his own hands off. He opened his mouth to threaten going that route. At the sight of his mouth opening, Logan growled. Suddenly, there was a hand grabbing at his side. Wade squealed against his will and jerked his body away from the touch.

“Don’t tickle me!”, he cried. He felt his cheeks warm at how pathetic his voice sounded right away. He absolutely could not stand being tickled and he was starting to feel very vulnerable. Logan smirked. That wasn’t good.

Wade burst into laughter the second Logan started to dig roughly into his ribcage. The touch was brutal; Logan uncaring if he hurt the other. But, it didn’t hurt. Wade wished it hurt. He threw his head back and shrieked with laughter. He kicked at the couch and bucked his hips, but Logan wouldn’t budge.

“God, you’re ticklish.”, he muttered in amusement. Wade’s laughter was at a ridiculous level right away.

He wanted to scream for Logan to stop, please stop…but he couldn’t catch enough air. His lungs constricted as he laughed against his will.

“Are you serious?”, Logan laughed and tilted his head like a puppy. Wade could only let out a desperate little cry of ticklish anguish.

The evil hand playing with his ribs got more adventurous, dancing across his body. It pinched at his sides and crawled across his stomach, making him squeal like a girl. Logan’s incredulous face made it so much worse. He shook his head, but he could only laugh. Wade screeched when Logan found his hipbone and tweaked it.

“Jeez, Bub. You’re fucking loud, but I’ve never seen you this quiet. Do you want me to stop? Huh?”, Logan teased. Wade couldn’t remember ever seeing such a playful side of his friend and he cursed the universe for letting tickling be the thing to inspire it. His hips jerked and bucked desperately at the ticklish touch, but all he could do was wail with laughter. How humiliating. He gasped for air to try to tell Logan how much he hated him and to fucking stop, but he couldn’t get a word out. His begging was garbled by uncontrollable laughter. God, his hips were fucking bad. His entire body buzzed with the ticklish electricity and he could only smack his head back against the couch again and again. “You love this, huh? Is that why you aren’t telling me to stop?”. Oh, he could kill him.

Wade wheezed and twisted against the couch, tearing his skin a little where the claws held him in place. Logan’s hand jumped up and dug into his armpit. They were so open and vulnerable, making Wade feel crazy as he slammed back onto his back and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, bad spot?”, Logan coo’ed. It wasn’t worse than the other spots Logan was attacking him, but Wade swore he was getting more and more ticklish as he went on. His skin was tingling and his nerves were raw. He felt so helpless. The older man teased carefully at the most sensitive muscle in his underarm and Wade swore he ripped a vocal cord with how hard he screamed. “Man, you really can’t take this at all,”, Logan laughed.

The devious hand danced down his chest and darted around his ticklish body. Wade could only squirm and laugh as Logan played him like a toy. He squealed and laughed and shook his head desperately, but he was so beyond gone.

“The next time you won’t shut up, I’m going to tickle you. You hear me Wade? Next time you’re running your mouth and pissing me off I need you to think about this…”, he pressed all five of his fingers into his ribcage and shook them roughly, sending Wade into chaotic choppy laughter. “You got that? I’m going to tickle the fuck out of you.”. Wade was embarrassed, but he nodded in agreement through his squeaky laughter. He knew he couldn’t die, but he felt close. “If this is what I need to do to get some reprieve from your yapping, I won't hesitate.”.

And finally, the nightmare ended. Logan yanked his claws out of Wade’s wrists and got off the couch. Wade curled up on his side, giggling uncontrollably. Logan’s touch had been so startling and rough. His muscles felt like they were vibrating still from the force.

“I hate you…”, he finally managed out between his giggles. Logan laughed loudly.

“Yeah yeah.”, and waved him off. Wade was left there on the couch gasping through his giggles. His wrists had already healed, but he wondered if his regenerative powers would hurry up and heal his ego soon.

It had been about a month since Logan had moved in with him and Blind Al. Since that first day, they had spent every single one together. Wade got to see more of the Wolverine’s hard exterior melt away as each one passed. Fleeting smiles and shared jokes. Teasing that ramped up as they learned how to get under each other’s skin more. Wade’s head spun a little as he thought about their friendship, still buzzing with ticklish energy.

Suddenly, Logan’s wheezing laugh boomed out from across the apartment.

“Wow, he finally shut the fuck up!!”.

[gerardwayscrustyeyeshadow]

INTRO BLOG !!!!!!!!!!

Hii! Welcome to my badly lit corner of the Internet ridden with posters and unnecessarily eye straining graphics :3 I'm an artist, therian, quadrobist, student, and professional fag from Slovenia! Endless yapping follows <3

EYESTRAIN WARNING!

DNIS: T.R.A.S.H., waycest shippers, jkr supporters and the like

-I'm non binary! I use they/them and you shall refer to me as such :3 I'm demiaroace, otherwise omni! You don't need to know the deets unless we're in a relationship which is. Probably never happening

Music and fav bandz!!

-I am absolutely addicted to music. I mostly listen to emo, scene, hyperpop or punk but I'll vibe to anything! My favorite bands are:

☆MCR

☆Ennaria

○The oozes

☆Doll skin

○Paramore

☆Dazey and the scouts

☆panic! At the disco

○Mommy long legs

☆Destructo disk

○Avril Lavigne

☆fall out boy

○Falling in reverse

☆vocaloid

○orangebandit

☆weezer

○pinkshift

☆escape the fate

○mitski

☆alex g

○HATSUNE MIKU RARRARRARARRAA

☆millionaires

○ occasionally 6arelyhuman and the like

☆uhhhhh did I tell you I like mcr yet :3

○my chemical romance again :3

-i draw things sometimes

My art is tagged as #my art!! :3 on my blog!!!

(Most) textposts are tagged as #ramblez!!

Asks are tagged #askz !!

What??? #monastery ramblez

And I DO NOT have an evil clone named @crustyeyeshadowsgerardway , so STOP ASSUMING before you do your research.

-I'm also in an orchestra! I play the clarinet :D

Fandoms!!

-I'm part of multiple fandoms, but I can't get them all off the top of my head, so here's some of them:

-SONICSONICSONICSONIC

-is mcr a fandom?

-cookie run kingdom!!

-epic the musical!!!!!!!!!!!

- The Stanley parable my beloved

-toon x mobster

-casual vocaloid fan

-is the silmarillion fandom dead yet

I'll try to update them as time goes :/ no promises

Some communities and subcultures I'm part of:

-the alphabet people 😱🤧😫😢😲😟😧😰😨

-therian and quadrobist community!! Im a beginner, but tryna get better at it :3 love it anyways :3 my theriotype is a cross fox!

-part of multiple subcultures, but I'm in the scenemo and punk scene the most rn!! Will also listen to scene/hyperpop/grunge/musicals/or anything if I'm in the mood for it :3 I love blasting my ears off

-My favourite animals are corvids, foxes, and rats!

-My hobbies are drawing, going on multiple hour walks to the forest, finding cool/creepy mushrooms, doing quads, making therian gear at home, collecting feathers and bones. I have. A lot. Of bones. Seriously, multiple bags of bones. My mother is concerned but we don't talk about it <3

-I'm also into witchcraft and the spiritual world! I am trying (emphasis on trying) to put together an altar for some gods but I don't have SPACE on my TABLE ANYMORE (I usually don't talk abt religion tho)

My personality type is INFP-T (mediator) :33

ALSO THIS IS ME

(Srry for bad pics and even worse quality lol) you can also search up my fit checks I can't find them

That's it! This turned out to be really long, so sorry about that lol. Thanks for reading, if you did!

BLINKIEZ >w< !!

(CW: EYE STRAIN!!) (Yes again)

[4n1m3-fr34k]

hey I am huge fan of your work... You're literally nailed the portion " fanfic"... Its very interesting... How I know your acct? U just posted commment on my picture applauding my patience in tumblr artist community.... I have a request... Two request.... I want two different fan fics from Aot.... 1. Conversion between eren and Zeke about life, enthusiasaion plan, their future.. Their Father mistake, some arguments...

2.zeke and grisha talking after rumbling massacre of eren

basically my first actual request and I'M SO HAPPY YOU LOVE MY WORKS!!! this is the first one! also, it isn't after the rumbling, it's in the Paths, I had to switch it up a bit since (sorta spoiler alert) they both die after the rumbling, the second one's coming soon, I'll tag you in it!

Broken Bonds, Broken Dreams

WARNINGS: takes place in Paths, Eren and Zeke yap about their father's mistakes and stuff

The golden hues of the Paths stretched endlessly, a desert of sand beneath an eternal sky. Eren sat across from Zeke, the two brothers separated by more than just years—by ideology, by pain, by the weight of their father’s sins.

Zeke swirled the sand between his fingers, watching it slip away like time. "You’re still so young, Eren. So eager to throw yourself into the fire. Do you really think this path will bring you freedom?"

Eren’s eyes burned with conviction. "It’s the only path. You gave up on Eldia. You gave up on our people. But I won’t."

Zeke sighed, his weariness showing. "Our father filled your head with dreams of vengeance and glory. Look where that got him—dead, his legacy a burden we both carry."

Eren clenched his fists. "He was right about one thing—we deserve more than to be caged like animals. You just want to roll over and die."

"Is that what you think?" Zeke’s voice sharpened. "I wanted to save our people from suffering. From bringing more children into this world just to inherit this cycle of hatred."

"By erasing us? By making Eldians disappear!?" Eren scoffed. "That’s not salvation. That’s cowardice."

Zeke leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "And what’s your alternative? Genocide? You’ll drown the world in blood and call it freedom?"

Eren didn’t flinch. "If that’s what it takes."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of their choices.

Zeke exhaled, shaking his head. "You’re just like him. So sure of yourself. So willing to sacrifice everything—even your own humanity."

Eren’s voice dropped low. "Maybe he was right about some things. Maybe the only way to win is to fight."

Zeke looked at his brother—young, furious, lost—and for a moment, he saw himself. The boy who had once believed in his father’s dreams.

"Then we’re both doomed," Zeke murmured.

The wind howled through the Paths, carrying the echoes of their father’s mistakes, their shattered hopes, and the future neither of them could escape.

And in that endless desert, two brothers sat—bound by blood, divided by fate.

---

sorta a spoiler for the other work.. I'll make them talk in the afterlife, because they did NOT see each other again since (like spoiled in the note at the beginning) they ALL die

[earthykinous]

Greetings!

Welcome to my fandom sideblog, here you'll find fanarts, ramblings, headcanons and other stuff, this is a multifandom blog so there will be variety (I'll try to keep it that way, there might be some times were I post stuff of a single thing more that two times in a row, sorry!)

Interest (Eventually I'll link the tags once I post more fanarts about said media)

Pokémon • Pokémon Mystery Dungeon

Kirby

Animation vs Animation/Minecraft

Hollow Knight • Silksong

Murder Drones

The Amazing Digital Circus

Undertale/Deltarune

Rainworld

Mailbox (For computer users)

Ask

Tags

Earthkinous’ • General tag

Aeon canvas • Art tag

Tiny scribbles • Doodle tag

Pathway panels • Comic tag

Aeon patchbox • Reblog tag

Endless echoes • Text post tag (No rambling)

Everliving frames • My animations/animatics/gif (rare)

Funny tags

Yapping into the void • Rambling about anything tag

No context • No context

Keyboard shenanigans • Silly nonsensical textposts in which I just let the keyboard complete the thing

Aeon journal • Personal tag

Other blogs

Earthkinous • Main blog, likes and follows from there

Earthykinous • Fandom sideblog, fanarts and such (You are here!)

Dailylileep • Lileep themed blog

Itsearthkinous • Reblog sideblog, nothing to see there

Tags for my stuff (In process)

|| Ocs (General) ||

Pmd oc

Kirby oc

Content Warning Tags (I mostly post lighthearted and cute stuff but sometimes I tread on dark territory, is not that frecuently and mostly the tags are there because of some mentions and jokes, if I'm missing something let me know)

|| cw blood • cw angts • cw food poisoning • cw bruises • cw injury • cw wounds • cw swearing • cw death mention • cw death ||

[eybefioro]

Hi, I'm Eybe!

I made this blog to have a place to obsess a little over my fixations (rn it is Good Omens obv).

I've been writing! If you want, check my ff on AO3 :) (English is not my first language, so expect mistakes. Não que eu seja muito melhor em português, mas sabe como é né)

✨️HERE'S MY MASTERLIST✨️

Also... could I interest you in a ✨️ficlet or poem✨️?? Send me a word on the ask box and I'll write one for you!!

I mostly use tags for yapping. I don't tag things properly – I'm getting better at it, but don't expect trigger/content warnings. These are the ones I use with some consistency:

I am being very diligent into tagging everything Go3 that i reblog. YOU CAN BLOCK THESE FOR GO3 TALK/SPOILERS: #Go3 #Good omens finale #Good Omens Spoilers

#woven words - Poetry stuff, apparently I'm doing that now.

#✨️Random fic rec✨️- I try to recommend a fic every so often! (It was weekly before but i couldn't keep it up LMAO. It takes me long to write the recs)They aren't spoiler free since it's a bit of a collection of my thoughts&experience reading it (I'm very enthusiastic about it)

#words after words - my ramblings about writing.

#sdrOwOrds - my fanfics & ficlets

#endless rewatch - for when I'm inevitably rewatching gomens and wanna talk about it.

#fanart i guess - Sometimes I draw, and I'm having fun with this!

#tag game! & #ask game :D - for tag&ask games lol

#ask tag :) - all my asks.

#random ramble - more personal stuff. Whatever goes on my mind and i want to share for some reason.

I do love the ask thingy (and messages) so feel free to talk to me and send stuff! i won't bite, promise (unless you ask kindly)

Dividers by Enchantings!!

🚧in construction 🚧

[Masterlists]

I'm too invested in music (I listen to a lot of different stuff) and fanfiction, and I do love anime and tv shows (Hannibal, Percy Jackson, The Good Place, Dirk Gently are some of them!). I like to watch people playing videogames, but don't play much myself bc I suck at them. Very much. It's comical. But I do love stardew valley, the Sims and Inscryption :)

[drethanramslay]

Part 4: Fight or flight

Pairing: Aurora x MC (Iris Everette)

Word count: 3.2 K words

Part 1   Part 2    Part 3

Warning: Fluff and a little description of abuse

Taglist: @miyakokurono @agent-breakdance @trappedinfandoms @lilyofchoices @sekizincimektup (let me know if you want to be tagged)

Songs: Emergency by Jay Sean and Clean by Taylor Swift

It had been a week since their fight in the supply closet and Aurora was in a flux of emotions. On one hand, she wanted her baby girl back in her arms and kiss her till the end of time. But, on the other hand, she was just so fucking pissed.

Iris had not come home to the apartment for a week. She stayed, showered and ate at the hospital. Aurora kept true to her promise and gave Iris her space, but that didn't mean it hurt less. The seventh day after the fight, Aurora was distraught.

She had headed to Sienna's room that night and one look at her face and Sienna declared that it was the "eat ice cream till you are sick" time. They saw so many cliche rom-coms and crying which resulted in Elijah wheeling into their room to see if both of them were okay. "Oh my god... Rom-coms really?! They are shit."

"No Eli, they are the shit." Sienna corrected him.

"Get in or get out Eli." Aurora said as she sniffled.

"Geez okay I will join you two to see how can girls cry to such cliche storylines."

Nonetheless, the three of them started crying towards the ending of Titanic.

"Rose is such a dumbass.. Like how COULD YOU LET SUCH A NATIONAL TREASURE DIE?!" Elijah screamed at the TV.

"Yo...I think we broke him." Aurora said as Elijah continued to cry.

"Nah... He will be fine. But what about you?" Sienna asked as she turned towards Aurora.

"Everything sucks."

"Big mood." Elijah chimed in.

"It's just...it feels like I am in a waiting room." Aurora sighed. Sienna sent a questioning gaze towards Aurora.

"It's like... Iris continuously hints about her past. I like her so much....I really do but, she just won't let me cherish her completely. She won't let me in.. She has just put me in that space where I know more that the anybody else but less to know her completely. I know I shouldn't complain, but..... I hate seeing her in so much pain and I want to erase the sufferings. I was to kiss her troubles away. I want to tell her that I am all in, that I will be with her, through thick and thin... But, she still holds me at an arms distance." Aurora sighed, as the pain resurfaced.

"Aww honey...." Sienna reached and hugged her. Aurora shuddered and the need to cry just became so overwhelming.

"I have known Iris for a year and half and let me tell you, she has changed. She laughs more, jokes more and smiles more. She was a withered bud but when you came into her life, she bloomed into a beautiful rose. Iris... had never had many people she could be herself around or count on. I think her mother was the last person who she truly was the real version of Iris, but after that, nobody. So she grew thorns, so that nobody can hurt her again. She had accepted the fact that she was going to be a alone forever. But then, you came. You transformed her. It's a damn great accomplishment if you ask me." Sienna said.

Aurora blew a raspberry. "Trust me I know that. And I am proud of her for slowly opening up. She is self sufficient, independent and so so strong...but she doesn't need to carry that burden alone. I want to share everything. The happiness, the sadness, the beautiful and the ugly. She deserves so much more..."

"I know Aurora I know... I spoke to her a couple of days ago."

"What happened?" Aurora asked, hoping that she didn't sound too pussy whipped.

Stop lying to yourself... You ARE pussy whipped.

"She looks like she got hit by a train. She had dark circles large enough to carry groceries, she zones out sometimes and she is really, really paranoid. Like the other day, Bryce just went to close her eyes, so that he could surprise her. She fucking grabbed his hands and had him on his ass in a blink of an eye!!"

"What?!" Aurora was shocked. This was certainly a new development. She thought to herself.

"I am not joking. Luckily everything is fine but damn, Queen B has some nasty bruises on his wrist."

"Shit." Maybe, just maybe there was something else affecting her and the 'break' was just the cherry on top.

Fuck I am such a selfish bitch..

"Don't." Sienna said before Aurora threw herself into the pit of self loathing.

"Huh?"

"Don't feel guilty. Don't beat yourself. You need to understand that you are pushing her to be a better person, a better friend, a better partner. You are constantly challenging and calling her out. And I believe, that the kind of love you both have, it can survive any storm."

"Love?!" Aurora asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Duh! Everybody can see it that the both of you are completely and utterly in love. Everybody, but the two of you."

"Do you think its true?" Aurora asked, trying to wrap her mind around this concept.

Sienna rolled her eyes before muttering, "Gods, for two smart people with their IQ's above 120, you guys are hella dense."

Aurora looked down at her hands, deep in thought. She was never familiar with the concept of this kind of love. Sure, she 'loved' her parents and family, but love another human being? That to romantically? Never.

She was of a scientific background and she always brushed aside the concept of love. Earlier if you would have asked her ‘what was love?’ she would have said that it was just a rush of oxytocin. Just a flux of chemicals. But now, if she were to close her eyes and think about it, forest green eyes stared right back at her.

"Holy shit." Aurora breathed out.

"God finally EEEEEEE!! One down, one more to go. Just know, I am rooting for the both of you." Sienna said as she squeezed her hand.

"Also can you like hurry up and make up? I might end up losing fifty dollars to Bryce." Elijah chimed in.

"This guys have been BETTING on when we make up?!" Aurora asked in disbelief.

"Eli, SHH!" Sienna smacked him, bullshiting back and forth. But Aurora didn't pay attention to that.

She was in love.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iris stepped to the back of the empty elevator and leaned against the wall, sighing. This week had been shit for her. Her girlfriend had called for a timeout, her asshole of a father was walking free on the streets, she had a panic attack, and she lost a patient.

She hated being so paranoid. She hated having to look over her shoulder every minute. She felt so guilty for hurting Bryce, and she profusely apologized by buying him his favourite tacos.

She shouldn't have to stay in such fear. Hadn't she suffered enough? Hadn't she lost enough already? Is her life nothing but a game for the man upstairs?

Being of a scientific bent of mind, the laws of her world were bound by logic and proof. She never really believed in the existence of God. But at moments of weakness, like now, she couldn't help but wonder who is responsible for fucking her life up.

The lift dinged, and she opened her eyes to see which floor it had opened on. But what she saw, made her eyes open wide.

Rory met her eyes and then looked down as she stepped into the lift. She pressed the button for the fourth floor where Iris was also heading.

"By the way, chief said that there is a storm incoming. He wanted everyone to be prepared incase of an emergency." Iris spoke up, cutting through the uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah...my aunt told me that. It also explains why they sent Dr. Ramsey and a couple of electricians to check on the backup generators."

Iris chuckled. "Yap. You should have seen the way he was grumbling and muttering quote unquote- 'God I hate that place...it gives me the heebie jeebies'."

"What?! No way!" She turned around to look at Iris, instantly regretting it. Iris looked like shit. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was so tired that she had to lean against the wall of the elevator for support. 

"If you don't believe it, I can ask Baz to send the video to you. Chief had a kick out of it."

Aurora giggled. "Okay, send it to me Adara."

Iris winced and Rory turned towards the elevator doors, the awkward silence settling in. It was slowly suffocating her. She thought that the deafening silence would continue indefinitely, but Aurora spoke up.

"I just...I miss you."

Iris looked up to see the back of Rory's head.

"I miss you too Rory..."

Aurora's heart soared and shattered at the same time. God she missed that nickname so much.

"Adara... Please. Just...please."

Iris shuddered. Just a simple plea, but it held so much meaning. She walked ahead and stood next to her. Aurora found herself leaning towards her, missing the warmth and comfort Iris gave her.

"Rory, I am so sorry... But I can't. It was never my intention to hurt you. You deserve someone strong and willing to be by your side... I am not that. My emotional burden will drown you."

"Adara, I will be the judge of that. If you just-"

"Baby, I care about you alot. And, I don't want you to get hurt... Just know that I am so damn lucky to have had you... for those seven months, I am so, so greatful." She proceeded to kiss Aurora's cheek, before exiting the lift.

Aurora was stunned. She reached to feel the place where Iris kissed her.

She couldn't help but wonder why Iris's words sounded like a final goodbye.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was okay. There weren't any accidents so far and the electricity was still running. Iris sat in the diagnostics room staring at the window, watching the rain drops pelt mercilessly on the glass window and the trees dancing to the tune of the gale.

She always found the rain soothing. It helped her escape. She could spend hours looking at the rain drops, racing each other to the bottom of the window. Her mom used to make hot chocolate for her on such rainy days. They would cuddle on the sofa, and have endless movie marathons. It's one of the happy memories she remembered from her past.

She always cherished those moments with her mom. Life at home may have been hell, but her mother's spirit did not once break. She was so strong and brave. She was kind and loved with all her heart. Iris always wondered if she would ever be half the woman her mom was or the fact that would her mother be proud of the way Iris turned out to be.

Guess we will never know.

Her pager beeped and she looked down to see what it said. 'Report to the nurses station on the fourth floor. Your lawyer is here.'

Huh, that's strange. Thomas said that he won't come till next week..

Shrugging off her doubts she started heading to the fourth floor. She walked down the long, empty hallway whistling. It was just a front but deep down, she had a feeling that she was being watched. She turned to look behind but there was no one following her.

You are just being paranoid Iris... 

But isn't it better to be safe than sorry?

She turned the corner and she collided with someone.

"Oh, I am so sorry-" Iris said as she backed a little and straightened her scrubs. She then looked up and she was completely frozen. She felt as if she was sucker punched in the gut. All the breath left her body.

He was here.

"Oh no its my- Oh." A cruel smile slowly etched into his face. He had aged, which was pretty obvious but prison made him look rugged with white hair peppering his balding head and his eyes looked more maniacal.

"Hello mija."

She had dreamt their encounter many times before. How she would punch the fuck out of his face, and break his left wrist, the way he used to break hers. She would beat him up so hard that he would end up in the emergency room. Those imaginations were so graphic, that she could taste the blood of that monster on the tip of her tongue.

But, at the end of the day it was only fantasy. Dreams are those tantalizing flames, which help keep the fire in us alive, while reality on the other hand, is a bucket of cold water, smothering those flames.

She just stood there in shock. It felt as if her head had been dunked into water. She saw his lips move and the people walking around them, but she couldn't hear a thing. Her breath was getting shorter and shorter. She felt weak. Pathetic. Just like the sixteen year old who lay there on the floor, awaiting her death.

No, no, no, I can't go into a panic attack right now.

"IRIS!!" Grayson shook her shoulders. "NO! Get the fuck away from me asshole!" Iris said as she tried to push him away. She felt like a bucket of maggots had been poured inside her shirt. She felt dirty, filthy and gross.

"Iris what has come over you sweetheart? You weren't like this before.." Grayson said, his face morphed into fake concern but she could see the anger and the bloodlust shining in his hazel eyes.

"Don't TOUCH ME!!" She exclaimed as she finally got him to take his grubby hands off her. And he had the audacity to act hurt. This bitch should get a fucking award for his acting.

"Hey, hey, hey." Ethan stepped between the father and daughter. "Sir, I will have to ask you to back away right this instance." Ethan said, in a voice so cold, that it could have withered a blooming flower.

Grayson held his"There is nothing going around here son. Just a father and daughter reconnecting after a decade. Ain't that mija?"

"Don't listen to him. He is a world class manipulator and a habitual liar. Get him the fuck out of here." Iris spat out, her voice poisonous.

Ethan turned to look at her, his eyes asking if this was the man who she had a restraining order against. Iris nodded subtly.

"I'm sorry sir, but you are causing a scene in a hospital, where people are sick and they need the quiet."

"No problem so- what's your name?"

Don't tell him, don't tell him, don't-

"Dr. Ethan Ramsey."

GODDAMMIT ETHAN. Just can't keep his fucking trap shut. She knew, that he would come for Ethan.

"Well Ethan, I don't mean to cause any problems. I am just here to take my girlie for a coffee.. have a chat." He smiled in a friendly way but, everybody knows that the term 'chat' means thrashing.

"I SAID NO. I don't want anything to do with you asswipe."

"How dare you-" Grayson's face twisted into a furious scowl. Iris just cowered behind Ethan.

"Sir, with all due respect, leave." Ethan said as two security guards started moving towards them.

"Alright, alright. There is no need to be so aggressive. I am nothing but a old man. What would I do? Beat up someone?" The last question directed towards Iris, his eyes gleaming. A chill went down her back, out of intense fear.

"I will meet you soon mija... And when we will.... we will have all the time in the world to catch up."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Running.

Iris ran down the hallway, to a place where she could have some damn peace and quiet, which is kind of hard in a hospital crawling with patients, doctors and the grim reaper.

Her breath was getting frantic, and the need to breakdown was increasing with every step she took.

Get a hold of yourself Iris. It's just a little longer. You don't need to be a mess in front of him. You don't need him to have that power over you. Iris repeated that as a mantra as she half walked, half ran down the never-ending hallway, away from her haunting past.

She was just crossing the nurses' station where, Aurora stood, reading through her charts.

God, please don't notice me. I don't have it in me to face another heartbreak. Iris prayed.

A few nurses greeted her, and Iris nodded and smiled politely before her eyes landed on Aurora's cool, calculating ones. She quickly averted her eyes away, so that she would not betray the inner turmoil in her.

But, Aurora knew. Iris had that look in her eyes as if she would shatter like a porcelain vase. So, she shut her chart and followed the red head.

Iris had reached the lift, pressing the button continuosly, so that it could hurry the hell up. After what seemed like an eternity, it finally came and she stepped into the elevator. She pressed the button leading her to the basement.

There is a old on call room which is pretty faraway from the hospital's main rooms. So even if she broke things, screamed and howled, nobody would know.

She saw the doors closing and she let out a tired breath when Aurora nimbly slipped into the lift.

Can't I catch a fucking break?

"What happened, Iris? Seems like you saw a ghost. You look hella pale." Aurora asked as she leaned in the wall across Iris.

Iris grimaced. If only she knew that she was not very faraway from the truth.

"Nothing." She said as she looked down at the floor.

"I know it's not nothing, Adara." Aurora said quietly. Iris' eyes snapped up.

"Aurora please. Just let me be." Iris pleaded, looking up at the screen showing that she had just reached the second floor.

"Don't fucking lie to me.Something is going on, I can see it in your eyes." Aurora said as she stepped and stood before her.

She placed her hands on her cheeks, forcing her green eyes to meet with her dark brown ones. "Please tell me Adara. Please let me in. Please don't shut me out this time."

"Aurora....I don't want to hurt you. I am cursed. Don't waste tears on a dead woma-" She said as tears filled her eyes.

The lift shuddered to a stop. And it was dark for a moment before the emergency lights switched on. She turned towards Aurora, who was slowly realizing the situation they were stuck in.

The lift was stuck and so were the both of them. And this time, there was no escaping for Iris.

I had to type and retype this so many times because it just didn't feel perfect..

Anyways, the next chapter will be the finale and after that will be the epilogue. I am so excited ;)

like and reblog :)) let me know what you think

[meetthetank]

Cruciamen Act 1: Erraverunt Chapter 1: The Exile

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Other Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, genre typical violence, On the Run, Monster of the Week, 9S is a half demon, 2B and A2 are shapeshifter Dragons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut in the future, inaccurate depictions of medical procedures, Fantasy Biology, A2 is Nonbinary Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104214/chapters/61461964#workski 

An antelope nimbly darts through the tall, amber grass. A pack of Savannah Drakes, feral dragons with sloped, hyena-like backs, chatter and howl as they chase after the fleeing beast. Though the Drakes are fast, the antelope keeps its delicate hooves just outside of the pack leader’s maw. Another Drake, this one a touch smaller than the leader, flanks the antelope. Its teeth scrape the skin of its haunch. The beast bleats in pain and kicks out its back leg as it leaps into the air, slamming the Drake in its jowls and sending it tumbling to the earth. 

The Drake leader barks orders at its companions before darting ahead of the pack. Half of the Drakes swerve to the left of the antelope, and the other half to the right. They herd the antelope into a shallow valley, with only the leader behind it nipping at its heels. A Drake on the left ridge leaps down onto the antelope, its heavy claws digging into the antelope’s flesh. It bleats as it crumbles to the ground, but it gets back to its feet as quick as it can. The chase resumes, but the antelope slows as its injuries overcome it. The pack leader sinks its teeth into the antelope’s haunch, yet the beast’s tenacity allows it to tear itself away from the Drake. It bolts to the end of the valley, towards the edge of the acacia forest where it could safely lick its wounds.

It bounds out of the way of another bite from the leader-

The antelope is slammed into the ground by a great red plumed dragon diving from the sky at blinding speeds. Its back is snapped instantly, and as soon as they skid to a stop its neck is taken into the dragon’s beak. Their sharp beak easily rips apart the antelope’s neck, spilling its lifeblood onto the ground. Their teeth cut cleanly through veins and tendons, pulling red strands from the antelope’s neck. It struggles against the red plumed dragon, kicking and bleating weakly before going limp in their jaws. The dragon shakes their head, cleanly severing the antelope’s head from its body and swallowing it whole in one gulp, horns and all. 

Before the dragon can lick the blood off their beak, the Drakes snarl at the intruder that stole their kill. The dragon crouches over the carcass, the claws on their wings digging into the earth. They gnash their beak at the Drakes that get too close or try to bite into the antelope’s flesh and drag it away. A massive swipe of the dragon’s tail sends a few Drakes flying backward after one tries to bite the dragon’s heel. They hiss and flash the brilliant crimson mane on the back of their neck. The Drakes back away as they take in the dragon’s new apparent size; even the leader backs down a touch. 

Their obsidian eyes narrow, quickly darting from the other Drakes chattering with each other and the pack leader pawing at the dirt. It snorts and howls, then charges the dragon head-on. The dragon digs their talons into the carcass and leaps into the air with their prize. They beat their mighty red wings and take to the sky, soaring into the clouds within seconds, the carcass firmly in their grip. The Drakes yowl and scatter from the dragon, but quickly regroup and follow after them into the acacia forest.

A2 greatly prefers fish to game. Raw fish isn’t nearly as gamey and tough as something that runs around and snacks on plants all day. They wouldn’t complain though, at least not too much. They were close to a vast desert, they have to get used to the lack of fish, as well as the lack of food in general. 

They lazily tear another strip of muscle and fat from the antelope carcass, careful to not let it lose balance and fall out of the tree they rest in. The Drakes they had stolen the kill from followed them all the way to the acacia tree they sit in now, yapping and chattering at each other. Sometimes one tries to scramble up the tree but falls flat on its back each time. A2 kicks their feet up on a branch and snickers at the dumb beasts, wondering how in the world how they and coatyls are both technically “dragons”.

The antelope’s blood dribbles down onto their shirt but it’s quickly cleaned up by A2’s finger. They pop it into their mouth not a moment later before digging the same hand back into the carcass for more. A2 has to move some of their long, not-quite pink but not-quite white hair out of the way of the carnage. Blood in their hair was hard to get out without dunking themselves in the water, and they were in no mood to be having a bath any time soon. Not that there were any bodies of water around that weren’t stagnant mud pools.

They slurp down the last bit of stringy muscle like a cub swallows a mouthful of worms before patting their stomach in satisfaction. The antelope might have tasted terrible but at least it was filling. They use one of the shattered leg bones to pick the scraps out of their teeth while the Drakes continue to yelp below. If they were to get any rest tonight, they’d have to get rid of those beasts somehow. With a sigh, A2 shoves the hollow antelope off of their branch to the hungry Drakes. Their fluffy tails wag with excitement as the pack leader shoves its way to the carcass and begins to drag it back to the den. A2 laughs bitterly to themself: even those ravenous beasts have a better sense of family than they did.

A stiff, cold breeze signals the onset of night. The blistering heat of the savannah fades into bracing cold. A2 grumbles and shuffles themself back into the crook of their tree for what little rest they could get. Hard knobs of wood dig against the grain of their thin scales. Though it’d be so much more comfortable to rest in their Coatyl form, one too many run-ins with poacher ambushes taught them the hard way that safety was a better choice than comfort. The trees kept them and their food from the curious night creatures, and their human form kept them safe from… well, humans. 

A2 sighs, forcing their eyes to shut and body to relax before memories could flood in. They force themself to think of mundane things. How far will they fly tomorrow? What will the weather be like? It doesn’t smell like rain. Is it the dry season? What is it like back home?

They snarl, cursing their mind for making their thoughts drift that way. They let their fury out on the tree by throwing their fist at the trunk. The force loosens a few leaves and a seedpod and even causes their massive, black iron sword to wobble. It wouldn’t fall, not when it’s in its sheath and tied tightly around their flat chest. They can’t help but focus on the long, black feather that dangles from its hilt, and they can’t fight the icy claws of sorrow that tighten around their heart.

Looks like they wouldn’t be having a dreamless sleep after all.

They wipe the tear from their eye before it can fall. The time for tears had long since past, but the pain felt as fresh as the day he died. Their head throbs as memories flood back, their chest tightens and it becomes hard for them to breathe. Even the ground seems to shake beneath them with the ferocity of-

The ground really is shaking.

A2 bolts upright, gray eyes scanning the earth for dangers. At first, they think it's a stampede, but no grazing animals move in the night. It might be an earthquake, though no flocks of birds take wing in fear. Could it be something invisible? Their hand grips the pommel of their greatsword in preparation. They had faced demons that relied on tricks of the light to hide from sight before.

The downy feathers beneath their hair stand upright and a chill runs through their body. It isn’t the ground that’s shaking. It’s the air. 

A deep, almost inaudible sound thrums on the wind, through the trees, through A2’s body. It makes their blood tremble and the golden grass of the savannah shiver as if there is a strong stormwind. They feel a great, unearthly power around them, but can’t see its source. They grit their teeth in frustration, a low growl escaping their throat.

Suddenly a great, bulbous shadow darkens the sky, its mass illuminated by veins of brilliant, unnatural green energy. At least twenty or so tentacles ripple like water as the creature floats through the sky, giving it the impression of an impossibly large jellyfish. A multitude of eyes the same shade as the energy that glow beneath its wretched skin flit back and forth, scanning the earth below for...something. Targets? Allies? Threats?

It didn’t matter to A2. All they knew is that the creature brought with it the unmistakably sweet scent of a demon, and a powerful one at that. Its sick, unnatural fruit-like stench fills A2 with hideous anger. Memories flood back, triggered by the scent as if they had happened moments ago. They snarl quietly to themself, forcing their anger down until the demon passes overhead.

In an instant, they leap into the air. Their form warps and twists in a bright flash of light, warping from human to Coatyl in the blink of an eye. Their mighty red wings beat against the wind, forcing it to do their bidding and send them into the sky. They ascend almost totally vertical, soaring straight into the clouds and higher than the amorphous demon. 

They breathe in the fresh, cold air of the land beyond the clouds. The endless expanse of darkness and stars, the full moon hanging above with a stoic gentleness grounds them in a strange way. It reminds them of their sister, her white plumage as bright as the moon itself, her drive and uncompromising strength hiding just under her emotionless surface. She always was the favorite child, even after she chose the path of the executioner. 

A2 was not their sister.

They pull their wings close to their body and plummet straight down to the earth. The wind stings in their eyes but they force them to remain open. Clouds, dust, and bugs rush past them until the outline of the demon comes into view. They flare their wings out and swoop upwards just before slamming into one of the demon’s rippling skin sacks. They search quickly for what seems to be the weakest point on its body, a fold between one of its bulbous growths right before its strange face. 

Before the demon realizes what is hunting it, A2 buries their talons in its soft, jelly-like flesh. It lets out an unearthly piercing sound that echoes across the sky as A2 tears into its body with talon, beak, and claws. Its tendrils flail around them and try to curl around whatever they can reach. A2 furiously shreds at its eyes, its gaping mouth, whatever they can reach. They shriek and squawk as they destroy anything they touch, leaving nothing but ribbons of demonic flesh in their wake. Whenever they pierce a bubbling sack a gust of stagnant, foul air escapes with a hiss and the two gradually begin to descend to the earth. A2 weaves in between its tendrils, wildy striking and biting at any mass of flesh in hopes of it being another buoyant sack. If they can ground the demon it would be helpless.

Something wraps around their foot and yanks down, sending A2 careening down to earth. They right themself easily in the air and turn around for another assault. They roar, letting out all their rage and hate into one sound, but they stop short. The demon’s tentacles begin to pulse with the same vibrant green veins as its body, growing brighter and brighter at the tip to the point of it becoming a blinding white. A searing blast of energy shoots out from each of its countless tendrils, all but one sailing in various directions. Distracted by the multitude of colorful beams, A2 doesn’t see the one flying directly at them until it’s too late. Though they attempt to avoid it by soaring straight up, the beam hits them square in the chest. 

The pain is so intense that it makes their whole world fade to black, only for the sensation of falling to shock them awake again. The scent of burning flesh and feathers assaults their senses, and a small trail of smoke rises from their chest as they fall. A2 beats their wings furiously in an attempt to slow their descent, but the effort puts intense strain on their wound. They struggle to glide on the wind, but the agony in their chest and hollow bones is too much for them to bear. They angle themself down towards the ground, hoping for a gentler landing.

A2 slams into the ground, dirt erupting around them as they skid to a stop. They force themself back to their feet and beat their wings against the air. The force and their strength lift them off the ground, and for a moment they start to climb into the sky but the pain is too much and they collapse to the ground once more. With a hiss, they shift back into their human form. Once the light fades, they turn their furious gaze to the sky. The demon floats onward, tentacles writhing around itself and the wounds A2 inflicted on it. 

They sneer at the demon and break into a run. The pain falls away, replaced by hate. They don’t even feel the rocks, branches, and bones that dig into their bare feet. If they couldn’t catch this thing in the air, they would run after it until they could fly again or until it landed. They wouldn’t pass up the chance to kill a demon like this, not one that was this high in its twisted little hierarchy.

Even as it disappears into the clouds of the night sky, A2 keeps running. They wouldn’t stop. They couldn’t stop. 

It’s the only thing they live for anymore.

[reallysporadicsterekart]

Symptoms

  Read on AO3      

Summary:            

Stressed out Alec, doting Magnus, sex and banter and sex. Yap. 4k words of it, which for me, is loooong. Also, a light d/s dyamic. And so much love.

Read more tags/warnings in the Author's note.

                 Notes: 

It was suggested in a comment to ‘When you open me all the power in me moves’ that I’d explore the light d/s dynamic between Alec and Magnus, that might have reared it’s shy head in the one or other fic of mine, a bit more.

I guess this is that.

This is nothing drastic, more along the lines of what you already know from me, but I’ll put more tags in the notes after the text, so scroll down, if you’re unsure if this is for you, dear reader. I just don’t want to spoil everything beforehand<3

Magnus has his magic in this one,  because of reasons, so it might be set in the future, or as well in their recent past.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

     “Have you eaten?”

Alec closes tonight’s patrol status report on his phone. “No. Haven’t found the time.” He sets it aside on the dresser in the living room and turns to Magnus. “Not really hungry, though-“ He stops when a frowning Magnus enters his line of sight, one of two steaming cups he’s carrying extended wordlessly to almost right underneath Alec’s nose. It smells delicious, some kind of a rich and creamy soup with exotic spices.

And it’s true, Alec isn’t really hungry, but the hot drink’s a compromise and he takes it. Hoping that in return Magnus won’t mention the raw patches of skin on Alec’s knuckles, and the healing rune he forgot to draw after he’d been through with the punching bag.

“Thank you.”

Magnus' eyes flicker over Alec's hand accepting the cup, but there is a smile on his face just the same, and he nods to the couch: “Let’s sit.”

They settle in next to each other in companionable silence. The soup is just the perfect temperature to drink and Alec almost empties the small cup in one go. And of course it tastes divine. He hums appreciatively, and Magnus sets his own cup down to scoot closer to Alec, placing hands warmed by the hot ceramic on each of Alec’s shoulders.

Alec's eyes fall closed.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, or your body.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but Magnus must feel Alec tensing because there’s a soft press of lips between Alec’s shoulder blades the next moment. Alec deflates. “I'm not.”

He doesn’t want to be defensive. He wants Magnus’ touch. And he wants Magnus not to worry, so he tries for light: “My body is trained to withstand much more. Won’t be killed by one missed meal, I promise.” He doesn’t know if it was exactly the right thing to say, so he pushes back into Magnus’ hands for good measure.

A heart beat of silence, then Magnus’ softened voice: “Oh, I know.” More kisses against worn cotton. “I wouldn’t mind, though, if we were to get from ‘what your body can do’ to more of a ‘what your body can do for you’ approach...”

Alec swallows and lets out a tired chuckle. He isn’t sure he completely follows, because honestly, Magnus’ hot, damp breath through the thin material of his shirt is quite distracting.

“What my body can do for me?”

“Yep. “ The playfully popped p is a brush of air on Alec's nape. “Want to let me show you?” And that is definitely a smile hidden against the fabric between his shoulders.

“Mmmm.”

The single syllable stretches between them, and Magnus sounds amused: “Is that a yes?”

“Yeah… yes, that’s a yes.”

Magnus’ hands come up to his neck then, gentle fingers trying and smoothing out the tight muscles there.  And before Magnus first did this to him, it was just an abstract medical, tactical concept to Alec: How applying pressure along the sides of your neck, where the vagus runs, can influence and regulate a person’s autonomic nervous system. Slow their pulse, lower their blood pressure.

It was just a concept, theoretical.

And maybe it isn’t just that, maybe it’s for that touch to be so close to what’s most vulnerable, maybe it’s just that Alec carries so much tension here in the tendons of his neck.

But Alec wasn’t prepared, isn’t, every time anew, for the deep sense of safety and warmth that floods him under Magnus’ expertly exploring ministrations.

When Magnus does this for him, Alec thaws, melting into the touch.

“Oh,  Alec.” Magnus voice is so low, Alec isn’t even sure he is supposed to hear: “For all that your body stands so calm you sure have a storm inside you.”

Alec exhales slowly, and something in his gut responds; he wants to answer Magnus somehow, but finds he doesn't know what to say.  

Magnus continues, words almost inaudible, spoken against the hairline above Alec’s nape: “It makes me want to coax it up to the surface, where I can kiss it better.”

Alec closes his eyes, and swallows. It’s a strange thing to say.  Yet it calls to an un-named feeling inside of him.

“Okay.” His own voice sounds rough to his ears.

He doesn’t quite know why his hands are shaking, as he puts them on top of Magnus’ on his neck. He just knows that he wants.

So he holds on and caresses along Magnus’ fingers, knuckles and rings.

Magnus hums, sound full of affection and warm amusement, and it’s heavenly to Alec.

“Choose one.”

“What?”

A soft chuckle. Endless patience.

“A ring, Alexander. Choose one, and take it off.”

Alec’s mind feels slow and syrupy and he doesn’t know where Magnus is going with this, but he picks a less worn, less ornate silver band on Magnus left hand, not the big signature sigil rings that Magnus puts on every day.

Once he holds it on his palm, Magnus’ magic weaves around it and Alec stares into the azure flame, watching as the ring grows until it’s the width of a small bracelet maybe, smooth edges and slender, but massive silver.

Yet it’s not large enough to go over his or Magnus’ hand, so Alec contemplates it, twists it between his fingers; it’s still warm, maybe from the magic, maybe from Magnus’ skin.

The moment Alec understands, a flush spreads heat all up into his cheeks and he feels Magnus’ chuckle against his neck.

“It- it’s to…”

“Yes. Well. It lets you stay harder longer and it might take longer for you to be able to come.”

Alec blinks. “So this one’s… for me?” He lifts an eyebrow.

Magnus laughs, a light and joyful thing. “I am not complaining about your stamina, Alec. Think of it more as giving me more time to… take you apart tonight. If you want it, that is.”

Yes. Alec gauges the solid weight in his hand, tracing a finger over the shiny, hard surface, getting used to the concept.

“Yeah. I think…. Yeah. But what about you?”

Magnus’ arms are wrapped around Alec’s shoulders from behind then, and his lips move directly against Alec’s ear:

“Oh, believe me, Alexander, this is as much for me as it is for you. “ A peck to his earlobe. “Sound good?”

Yes . “Yes.”

“Good.” Magnus pats Alec’s shoulders once more, and moves to get up. “Then don’t get too excited just yet, or it might get that much harder to put it on.”

Alec’s mind stumbles and Magnus winks. It is not helpful at all.

“Bedroom, Alexander.”

He complies.

The ring sits tight, and Alec’s cock feels heavy, every jostling movement sending a thrilling pull inside up to his belly button. And there has been a lot of movement, since Magnus has had him lose all his clothes, and has been maneuvering him around the bed. So Alec’s hard already, back propped up on countless pillows against the headboard in an almost sitting position.

Magnus is in front of him, straddling one of his thighs, naked as well but for the briefs he’s still wearing.

Alec wants him closer, always closer, so he slides his fingers into the elastic waistband, to pull them off, to pull Magnus in, either way seems good, but Magnus shoos his hands away.

“No, those are staying on. Wouldn’t want you distracted.” Another one of those winks, and for a moment there Alec isn’t so sure that he himself is above pouting right back. Pushing the impulse down, he instead gestures to the general area of Magnus’ torso and face. “Don’t know ‘bout that, still a lot of distracting going on over here…”

Magnus smiles and catches Alec’s hand mid-movement. He intertwines their fingers and meets Alec’s gaze: “Oh, I know. But I need your skin on mine.”

And at that, Alec can only nod.

At the glint in Magnus’ eyes and the simple gravity of his inflection.

Magnus takes Alec’s other hand then, never breaking their eye contact, and he brings both of Alec’s arms up, wrists onto the pillows above his head. Alec’s breath might get stuck in his throat a little, as he watches Magnus.

Magnus, who's contemplating Alec’s face, the strained lift of his chest and the frame of his shoulders, and in a careful move he leads Alec’s arms down again, places them a bit outward next to Alec’s waist, and Alec lets their weight settle. After a moment Magnus lets go, drags his fingertips across Alec’s palm, then rests them on his pulse points, pressing wrists down into the give of the mattress for emphasis.

Alec thinks he knows what Magnus means; but then Magnus is leaning in, kissing him. So slow, and so very deep.

It’s second nature by now, to want to complete that embrace, to hold onto those shoulders, onto Magnus’ neck to keep him close, keep him right here. Alec feels suddenly hot all over, when he catches his own movement half-way, and brings his arm down again.

Magnus must have seen from the corner of his eyes, because he smiles against Alec’s lips: “Do you want me to bind your hands with magic?”

Yes. Alec flexes his fingers and feels himself nodding. There’s lightness in his head and a rush in his ears as his heart picks up, but there’s also Magnus’ hand on the muscle of Alec’s chest, propping up his leaning weight, drawing soothing circles just below Alec’s collarbone.

The other hand taps Alec’s wrists again and there’s a surge of electric blue that dissolves into a lingering tingle for Alec to chase, raising goose bumps along his skin.

He finds Magnus waiting for him to meet his eyes: “They’ll hold, Alec, but should this ever not be what you want anymore, one word from you will break them. You choose that word now, Alexander. It should be something that comes to mind easily.”

The continuous caress of Magnus’ thumb on his chest is an anchor to Alec, and he forces himself to think for a moment, surprised how easy the decision comes to him, and how much sense it seems to make.

“I think it should be stele.” The thing he’d instinctively reach for.

“Very good choice.” Alec fights the impulse to shrug off the languorous shiver, that the gentle words have sent along his spine.

There’s a soft shockwave of blue again, as the spell adjusts. Alec bites his lip as his dick twitches with it.

Magnus leans back and shifts his weight, and Alec’s own chin lifts, his whole body following after Magnus of its own volition. The subtle stretch in his chest from having his wrist kept in place makes him feel wide open, every need and desire inside radiating out towards Magnus; it makes breathing easier and more difficult at the same time.

Magnus eyes grow darker, and he rearranges his position only lightly, sweeping a soothing hand along Alec’s side.

“I am right here, Alexander.” His voice is very soft then, but the melodic cadence of Magnus speaking has Alec captured completely.

“I won’t deprive you of touch.  You’ve been deprived long enough.”

Alec swallows, pauses. Stares and studies that face in front of him, his mind struggling to evaluate. He has a sudden notion that Magnus is not talking about Alec alone here, so he finds he doesn’t want to qualify those words, doesn’t want to say anything. It is true, after all. He hopes it’s in his eyes, as much as it is in Magnus’.

Magnus nods and aligning their bodies, ghosts his cheek over Alec’s. He cups Alec’s face in both his hands, thumbs placidly tracing over the corners of Alec’s mouth, then drags his palms down to rest on the sides of Alec’s neck for a moment again.

“Now, I want you focused on your pleasure. Every sensation your body gives you. That I give you. Ok?”

There's a flash of golden yellow in deep brown eyes. If Alec could only make him comprehend what Magnus’ voice alone does to him.

Magnus kisses him again, with the same pace that his hands employ to close and open their loose grip below Alec’s ears. So slow and sure and steady, that Alec can’t help but assimilate that rhythm:

From the way he opens his mouth to be kissed, to the rise and fall of his chest. From the flex of his fingers and his toes against the mattress, to the tiny, involuntary, circular motions of his hips.

They push his thigh up against the heat of Magnus’ body where he kneels over it, and makes Alec’s own heavy cock shift on his belly, pulling on the ring having Alec sensing every pulse inside the veins standing out, with the pounding beat of his heart.

Magnus’ hands move outwards to each side, then, brushing blunt nails along the tender skin of Alec’s forearms. Alec never thought that those spots on his body could ever feel this naked and laid bare and open. When Magnus reaches the inside crooks of his arms, Alec surprises himself with a gasping moan. Magnus stops kissing him with a smile, stays close but sits back a bit. Alec blinks his eyes shut again; everything seems so very charged.

Deliberate fingers dance along the insides of his biceps and down along where chest muscle meets armpit. Another sharp intake of breath, as Alec’s body tries to twist into the contact even more. And Alec should probably be embarrassed over how out of proportion his response to being touched there is, only he isn’t.

Magnus’ fingers trace around the outer definition of Alec’s pectoral muscle, around over solar plexus and collarbones, against the grain of raised hairs and shivers along Alec’s sides.

A jolt runs through all of Alec’s body as suddenly the same light fingers are on his balls, tap onto silver once, then ghost up along his shaft, only to move back to his chest again. Hips strain to lift up to not lose the contact, but Magnus keeps Alec’s thigh bracketed between his own, limiting his reach and range of motion.

Alec’s mouth feels dry from the huffs of breath that leaves his lips, as Magnus traces the same path as before again and again, using more of the back of his nails, never any faster than before.

Alec is arching up from each of his wrists bound in place, like a bow from notch to notch, against the tense string of sensation that Magnus pulls tight.  He is made up of strings, everywhere, the stretch of his arms and chest, taut tendons straining along his hips. That cord of connection that seems to run from the hypersensitive underside of his cock to his balls, branching off to behind his belly button, to that diffuse spot inside somewhere below his taint, to the network of nerves around his hole.

A touch, a pull anywhere along that cord will erupt in dull sparks in all those places, a hazy kind of heat pooling inside his lower body, steadily building, never enough.

Alec is writhing against his bindings, by the time Magnus wet fist finally closes around him, looser than usual, looser than Alec’s own would be. The warm, smooth hardness of Magnus rings is lost in the bend of his fingers, blending in with all the maddening non-friction.

“Tell me when you’re close.”

Alec’s mind stutters. “I’m… I’m close….”

“Tell me when you’re just about to come.”

Alec swallows back a gasp and tries to concentrate. It’s so different. Between the metal ring restricting him below his balls, and the controlled slowness of Magnus’ hand, he is almost painfully hard, skating the edge for what feels like too long. But every time he thinks that he’s about to burst, his body seems to go the extra step, and it isn’t yet enough, only coils that much tighter.

Through it all, Magnus has his other hand on Alec’s chest, grip on his pec hard and pulling, fingers digging into the flesh, partly to balance Magnus’ weight, partly for just one more point of contact. And it drives Alec crazy, the polarity of fleeting grazes of fingers everywhere else on his body, and then the anchor of that firmer touch; Alec wants it so much, needs it, like he needs his wrist pinned down to push all his passion against, to keep him from floating away right now.

He registers faintly that Magnus has rearranged his position, letting go of Alec’s dick again to drag careful nails over the sensitive skin of his hipbone. It brings Magnus knee nudging up against Alec, blunt pressure to the space between Alec’s balls and his hole and it feels so warm, so good, and Alec’s body wants more of it; twisting and lifting, trying and riding back down onto it.

Alec thinks he hears Magnus say something, but he’s so lost into chasing his pleasure, he needs to blink a few times to focus. Magnus’s gaze is on Alec, and his face is flushed and full of so many emotions Alec can’t begin to untangle them all; full of pride and awe and affection.

“You want me there, beautiful?” Magnus shifts his leg a bit and Alec makes a sound that needs. Then Magnus slick hand is on his dick again, rubbing just underneath the head, and he keeps on doing it, and Alec shouts, muscles pulling tight. It feels sudden, even with all that build up:

“Now, Magnus, I-”

Alec knew it what was coming, and still he isn’t prepared; never is; because Magnus stops and Alec’s muscles contract hard with the sudden lack of stimulation, body holding tight and together, not knowing where to go. It’s a wave of compressed heat, and his dick is trickling cum weakly, and Alec’s eyes are wet with all the blissful but contradictory sensations.

He’s breathing so fast, and it feels good, but so very intense. He's still wound so tight.

Magnus’ hand is on him again, and he is so very oversensitive, body twitching and curving up, instinctively trying to get away, though Alec doesn't want to be anywhere but exactly right here.  “Magnus, I…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Magnus’ hand on him stills. The shake of Alec’s head is immediate and vehement and he wants to kiss the hand stroking soothing circles along his collar bone again.

“N- No, don’t stop, please.”

“Do you want me to keep going?” Magnus voice is caressing him right along with the movement of his thumb against heated skin.

“Yes.” Yes. Alec wants more, wants to see where this goes, wants relief.

Magnus sets a gentle rhythm using only two of his fingers at first, and Alec goes white knuckled, head thrown back against the pillows with a gasp. His muscles quiver with exertion, all the held tension, body chasing that sensation from before and mindlessly basking in the intensity of that new one, pushing into it with all that Alec has.

The hand on his chest leaves, but before Alec can mourn its absence, it takes the place of Magnus' knee between his legs, a broad warm press of palm and a rolling motion against him, steady and rhythmic and toe curling.

It’s like Alec’s body is mirroring the ever building heat inside, everything about him straining up and against where he is anchored down, and Magnus' strokes are steady now, even if still slow.

“Look, Alec.”

It takes an unfair amount of concentration just to open his eyes and tilt his head so that he can see, but when he does, Magnus holds up his index finger a little, and it’s surrounded by dancing light, a crackling blue, pulsing energy. And the thought of it alone should be too much, to have that on his skin, but then Magnus speaks:

“You expect to be punished when you do wrong, Alec, but why do you not expect to be rewarded to the same extent, when you do good?” The words trickle like water on overheated skin, and Alec isn’t sure he understands everything they are, right now, but they are Magnus’ words, his voice, and they wash over him, when Magnus touches his magic down to the ring of silver, and Alec is set alight.

It’s a drawn out moan, bursting pinpricks of gentle electricity in the wake of the line Magnus draws up his shaft.  “Do you see what your body can take?” Echoes of tiny spasms shaking his body closer to what Alec knows is inevitable now.

Magnus' magic reaches up and around the head of Alec's cock, and that's it, Alec is finally coming, muscles locking down, and he thinks he might lift Magnus a bit off the bed with him, with the sheer force of it all, before everything whites out into bliss, reflief and release.

 (“You are your body, Alec. Your body rewards you, do you feel that? You are rewarded…”)

They aren’t all the words that Magnus whispers to him, kissed into the side of his neck through ebbing muscle spasms; there’s more, praises and love, but somehow those are the words that Alec will remember later.

For now, with their heartbeats and breathing slowing down, everything is a cocoon of soft and dark and weightless, as Alec’s eyes fall closed, his body back into the pillows.

Alec comes to shortly to Magnus rubbing gentle patterns into his stomach, and the silver ring falls away. He finds his hands are already unbound and wrapped around Magnus’ shoulders. Alec thinks he couldn’t open his eyes if he wanted to, and simply revels in fingertips dragging up his arms again, brushing close to the tendons of his neck. Everthing is white clean sparks and velvet. He drifts once more.

The next time Alec surfaces, he can't tell how much time has passed. It cannot be too much, though, since Magnus is still propped up next to his side, playing with their intertwined fingers.

The heavy sleepiness has left Alec, and his body hums, warmth still tingling everywhere beneath his skin, unwound muscles delightfully sore.

Magnus bends his head then, and kisses Alec’s chafed knuckles, and Alec watches the redness vanish.

And like that the words find him, before he even knows where they will go, and Alec speaks. He feels light, even if his voice is slightly hoarse.

“I sometimes want it, you know. The scraped skin, the light discomfort of a missed meal. I mean, most times I just forget, but sometimes… I do it because… with all that’s happening, it seems to give all this stress, this tension inside a shape I can work with. This”, he wiggles his fingers, stretching the smooth skin over his knuckles, but never letting go of Magnus’ hand, “…this feels like something  I can handle, that I can work to overcome, to endure. If it’s physical, it has substance… it has rules. In its physicality it has rules. I don’t know.”

A beat of silence.

“I know, Alexander.”

Alec turns his head a bit to look at Magnus. His eyes are down, still studying the soft pink of Alec’s healed hands. A strand of hair still clings to his forehead with a thin layer of sweat, and just like that a wave of gratefulness washes over Alec. Of course Magnus knows.

“Thank you for telling me though.” Magnus looks up then, and the smile on his face is sweet; it takes Alec’s breath, like so often.

“Well, thank you. For tonight.”

“My pleasure, Alec.”

Alec cocks his head and shuffles a bit more to his side, towards Magnus, searching out his eyes:

“Oh, I don’t know, I think it was mostly my pleasure, though.”

A wide smile, lopsided: “Alexander believe me, I am deeply, perfectly content and happy right now.” There’s hands on either side of Alec’s face again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  

Alec touches their foreheads together for a moment, then loses himself to the depth of warm brown eyes. So he sees the glint in them before Magnus even speaks:

“Well, almost perfectly content, I have to say, except that I am rather hungry right now.”

Alec huffs a laugh and stretches to get a look at the nightstand: “It must be, what, past midnight now?”

Magnus makes a tutting sound and wiggles his fingers: “Good thing we’re not bound to any takeout service hours then!”

He gives Alec a wide grin, that Alec returns.

Magnus makes to get up: “But I was actually thinking something sweet, warm, maybe homemade… Rice pudding? “

He looks at Alec expectantly, hair a little crumpled and features soft.

Alec doesn’t have to hesitate.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could eat.”

The smile Magnus gives him is blinding.

                                 Notes:  

Additional tags and warnings: light d/s dynamics, hurt/comfort, implied self-harming tendencies, cockring, light magical bondage, orgasm play, light overstimulation, edging, magic during sex

That should be it, I think?

Anyways, I'm hoping on your feedback <3