#!ravings from the writing desk!

[writingdesk-ravings]

59. Night Light

Status: Unedited Words: 1518

The car had left the parking lot, and a few hours later we arrived home. Even when the car wasn’t moving the windshield wipers struggled against the falling snow. The car was parked right where the town ended and the forest began, just like always. And just like always, I would have gotten out of the back seat and walked the rest of the way.

Fabian spoke just as my hand made contact with the handle. “Can I ask you something?” He said it with that same boyish smile I always see him have when he’s talking to a new girlfriend at school. I don’t smile back but I do answer with a nod. “Do you think we could stay at your house, just until the storm passes?” I wanted to say no. Everyone knew the rule was to never go to my house, but looking at the snowstorm, something human in me stirred. “We’re going to die if we don’t.” It was obvious that Ava was teasing, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Fine, but you listen to me.”

It was strange how quickly the storm cleared once we were near the house. Both of them stopped just before the fence and stared as if they were trying to make sure they were seeing right, even in the slightly-less-freezing-than-a-minute-ago weather. The lights in the eyes of the skulls on top of the fence were a beacon I often used in rough weather. I held open the creaky bone fence so that they wouldn’t have to touch any of it.

“Shoes off,” I said while I hit Ava on the shoulder lightly. They moved around silently and walked to the living room. Fabian was trying to act casual, but it was obvious he was on the lookout for anything else made of bones. Ava was just quiet. They sat down stiffly on the couch, and I took up my spot in my mother’s armchair. This was fine. She wouldn’t know. I would clean up before she got home.

Shit.

My walk through the house was slow, and accompanied by curious stares. No footsteps from upstairs, so she wasn’t there. I placed my ear on the old basement door. It was quiet there too. That was good. Quiet was good. I peeked my head into the kitchen. There were dirtied plates still in the sink. Clean those later.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

“So, why doesn’t your Mom let you have people over?” Fabian asked tentatively. “She likes privacy, we both do. But I think she’s just paranoid something happens to the chickens.” “You guys have chickens?” Ava spoke for the first time since we passed the fence. The air in the room seemed a bit calmer. “Yeah, I told you. That one time after the movie.” I cast a quick glance out of the window. The snowstorm was still going strong. At this rate, they’d have to stay the night. That wasn’t good.

“Yeah, I remember now. Honestly, I thought you were joking.” I couldn’t blame her. There weren’t many farmers in the area and it sounded weird enough in context at the time. “I saw you guys have a doggy door,” Fabian said through the awkward silence. “Do you have a dog?” “Yeah, he helps keep an eye on the chickens. Fights off coyotes, you know?” That was completely untrue. He was little more than a puppy, barely an adolescent and no other animals dared to venture near our house. “Is he… outside?” He didn’t sound completely sure of the question or himself. “No. I’m pretty sure he’s asleep right now. He gets stressed out during storms.” The dog bed was in my room and even if the little guy was a bit stupid he wouldn’t be out in weather like this. The wind howled and I decided to light a fire, at least for their sake. 

A movie filled the awkward silence and everything seemed to lift. We made a few jokes and Fabian paused now and then to make silly plot predictions. If I just hid them in the guest room when my mother came home, and let them out the next time she left everything would be fine.

Soft, clawed steps echoed from the top of the stairs, My dog slipped into the room with his nose to the ground. He saw the two on the couch and let out an ear-shattering bark. Both of them jumped back as he continued to growl. “Down, boy. Here!” He quickly jumped to my side, making himself comfortable on the floor all the while keeping an eye on the pair of guests. Some of his long hair joined the black clumps of it that already littered the carpet. “Um, he looks…nice,” Fabian said. Nikita was about hip-height when on all fours, and usually more cuddly. Though at that moment, he seemed just a little bit upset that his spot was taken. He growled lowly as Ava tiptoed out of her seat. “I think I’m going to check on the car.” She rushed out before I could say anything.

The storm outside could hardly be called that, but the snow still fell. I hoped she had a good enough sense of direction to make it back to the car. Worst case scenario she gets lost and freezes to death.

Nikita walked to where Ava was sitting but seemed to realize there wasn’t enough room for him with Fabian still there. He let out a puff of hair and plopped himself back down on the floor. “What kind of treats does he like?”

Fabian had about three dogs of his own, so I knew he’d be at least a little bit eager to try and befriend Nikita. I smiled while looking at the dog chew at that slightly itchy spot in his paw. “I can get you some of the treats he likes. I think he’ll warm up to you more if you feed him.” Fabian immediately nodded, looking at Nikita in quick bursts. 

I grabbed a few treats just in case and when I got back to the living room Nikita was busy circling Fabian. I let out a whistle to get him to back off and walked up to Fabian to hand him one of the treats. He gripped the finger for only a second before dropping it in surprise. Nikita was on it as soon as it hit the ground and already seemed more comfortable around Fabian now that he knew there was food. 

Fabian looked up at me, eyes blown wide. I pulled another finger from my pocket and held it out for him to take. “Well,” I asked, “do you want him to trust you or not?” He pushed a shaky hand forward to grip the severed gray finger. He pinched it between his own fingers, and it looked like he was trying to touch it with as little as him as possible. He held it at Nikita’s eye level and slowly moved the treat forward. Still, the dog snapped at it, nearly nipping his fingers. After Nikita was finished eating he pushed his nose up against Fabian’s thigh. He gave him a half-hearted head rub. He looked out of the window at the softly falling snow and then back at the crackling fire. 

Nikita left the room shortly after to go back upstairs and everything was quiet.

Fabian stood up. “I should go check on Ava. Thanks for the - um - everything, Lisa.” I followed him to the door and when he shot me a questioning look I said, “ I open the gate for you, you seem squeamish around bones.” He chuckled at that before we walked to the edge of my home in silence. 

I opened the gate for him and despite my better judgment called out to stop him just before he left. I took one of the skulls off from the top of the fence and handed it to him. The flames in the eyes glowed brightly against the opaque white around us. “Just in case, so that you don’t get lost on your way.” He took it with an uncomfortable look on his face and as he walked away, I wondered for a moment if I had done the right thing.

*It was early morning, and the snow had stopped falling. I didn’t stay up late enough to see my mother return home. The window to my room was covered in frost and I tiredly made my way over to it to clean it. I saw the fence. My mother was by it, replacing the skull that I had given to Fabian. She craned her neck up at the window and gave me a disapproving look, visible even from all the way down there. I laid back down in my bed and turned on the radio. The morning news report filled the chilly air: Ava Harrison was missing. In actuality, she was on our fence. Or more precisely, a piece of her was on our fence. I suppose her sense of direction wasn’t that good.

[simphornies]

Glitchy [ Vox x F!Reader ] pt. 2 (NSFW)

A/N: Was not expecting the attention the last one got. I already had a part 2 in my head as soon as I posted it. Sorry if the writing is off! I'm a bit rusty. Enjoy!

MINORS DNI

Warnings: smut, teasing, light bondage(?), oral, creampie

Velvette's fashion show was ongoing. She somehow set you up to model one of her latest pieces as the grand finale. You liked to dress up but being in front of crowds that didn't involve killing made you nervous. "C'mon bitch! Are you ready?" She switches up your hair into a fitting updo, showing off your TV wire inspired earrings. "Oh Vox is going to love this one." To be honest, you did want to tease Vox a little bit to get back at him for spying on you. Valentino sneaked you into his office while he was asleep at his desk and you saw that most of the cameras were paused on you. "Did you really put on a whole show to fuck with him?" You asked, straightening out the skirt she had you put on, "And does this outfit have to be this short. You know I don't like showing off too much skin. Gives too much to look at." Your statement made Velvette and Valentino laugh, "Babe, with a body like that you should be showing off. It's almost a crime to keep them hidden." Val slaps your ass and pushed you towards the curtain, "You're almost up, knock Vox dead. Do that move I showed you too."

You rolled your eyes at them and walked away. Val looks down at Velvette, "$100 bucks if he short-circuits." She grinned, "$100 if he gets up and they fuck later." The two shook on their deal and walked around to get to their seats.

Vox didn't typically sit for Velvette's shows but you had asked him to show up because of a piece you said you wanted him to see. The two other Vees sit next to him, "You look like you're having the time of your life, Vox." Val teased. "Fuck off, if Y/N didn't ask me to be here, I wouldn't be. Where is she anyways? I would expect her to be here considering she wants me to see this piece so bad." Velvette gasps, "Wow. So you wouldn't even show up to my show if I told you to come? I'm so hurt." Her words filled with sarcasm. "Shut up. It's almost time for her part."

Vox blinked, "What? What do you mean he-" Her finger covered his mouth and Val moved his head to look at the stage, blowing out some smoke for "effect" as you make your way down the catwalk.

You donned a gorgeous off shoulder top that showed too much, or too little as Val would say, of your cleavage. A skin tight skirt that rode up a little bit as you walked the catwalk hugged your hips. Above your skirt, the strings of your thong (that Velvette insisted you wore) peeked over adding a little extra flair. And the best part? You were of course in Vox's signature colors. You did a spin showing off the outfit and scanned the crowd. Your eyes locked with Vox's and you smirked as you thought about what Val taught you hours before. You bent over in his direction, one hand on your knee and one hand on your hip. You spun on your red bottom heels and posed one last time for the cameras, looking at Vox before leaving him with a wink. You looked away as soon as you see his screen glitch, red liquid oozing from the side of his mouth.

After the show, you put on a mesh coat. Velvette came running at you with a hug, "You did wonderful! I knew you could nail that. Have you seen the ratings?" She whipped out her phone with an article raving about the latest show with you front and center of the pictures, "The people love you! And the sales are coming in." You smiled, happy that you impressed the fashion critic herself. "Glad I could make you proud, Velv." Claps came from behind you and you turn to see Valentino and Vox, walking side by side. "Amazing work, sweetie. You nailed the tit show." He smiled, giving you a hug as well. "Thanks Val. I would never have done that move if you didn't teach me the art of captivating an audience with my tits. You're the master." You elbowed the tall sex demon. "So, did you like the show Vox?" You looked up at him, trying to make the eye contact that he wasn't reciprocating. "Come on~ Did my tits glitch you out." You teased. He cleared his throat, finally making eye contact with you with his signature smile. "I already knew you were hot, baby. I love the color combo." He gives you a hug, whispering into your ear, "Did you do that on purpose to fuck with me?" "Pfff. Me? Why would I ever do such a thing?" You spin around and pulled Velvette close to you, arm over her shoulder, "Besides, I'm not the fashion genius here. She is." Velvette gave him a teasing look and laughed, "Oh I would never! You're reading too much into it. Now shoo, Y/N and I have an afterparty to go to!"

You weren't a fan of parties but Velvette insisted you come. Well, she bribed you with some drinks. You grab a glass of wine and walked out of the club to get a breath of fresh air. As you scrolled through your phone, you see from the corner of your eye a familiar red figure walking towards you. It was the radio demon himself, Alastor. "Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure!" He grabs your hand to shake it, "I've seen your influence around town from the latest fashion show put on by the overlord Velvette and might I say you're quite the stunning lady." He plants a kiss on the back of your hand. You had your guards up, this was Alastor. The demon that brought down overlords as soon as he manifested into hell. What the fuck could he want from you? "Thank you for the praise." You say as you pull your hand away from him, "What can I do for you, Alastor sir?" You back up slightly, taking steps back towards the entrance of the club hoping Velvette could see the predicament you're in. "Nothing too much. I just have a couple of...questions for you, my dear!" He grins menacingly, "You seem to be in close quarters with Vox, would you like to make a deal?" You scoff, "A deal? I'm not stupid. I'm not making a deal with you. What do you want?" "Would you like to go on a little outing with me?" "A what." "An outing! A gorgeous doll such as yourself must be exhausted having to deal with that annoyingly loud picture show." He was talking about Vox, "I could show you a better time. I can give you aid taking down all those who you wish if you permit me." Before you could answer, a glowing blue circle appears at your feet plunging you down to hell knows where. You land in Vox's lap, his face glitching with rage. "That fucker--Thank the seven rings I was watching around the club you were at." "Vox I-" "That little prick! I'll show him he shouldn't mess around with the Vees! That motherfucker-" "Vox." "-is lucky I wasn't there!" He chuckles, his one eye going crazy at the thought of Alastor hurting you. "Vox!" You yell, finally getting his attention. He seemed to have forgotten you were still in his lap in his fit of rage. He looks down at you, blushing a bit as you were still in the clothes from the fashion show. "Can you let me down please. Your little desk is cramped and I can't get myself off without getting tangled in your cords." Vox, in a panic, backs his chair up, a cord getting caught in one of the wheels and throwing you both back. He catches your head with his hand as to not hurt it. "Fuck. My bad. I was ju-" He cuts himself off noticing the position you're both in and the state of your clothes. He was on top of you and your top got yanked down a bit which meant your tits are now in full view. Not to mention the fact that you somehow got wrapped up in his cables. Him glitching at the sight of you made you smirk, "You like what you see? Or are you too angry at the radio demon talking to me to notice anything?" You cockily said before laughing, pulling your top up to put your tits away, "Now can you help me out of your cables, please?" Vox didn't move. He was frozen. You thought that maybe he short circuited. "Hello? Vox?" You place your hand on his screen, trying to knock him out of his daze, "Vox are you in the-" Before you could say another word he pins your wrist down above your head as he crashes his lips on yours. You melt against his, returning his affection. You taste a faint hint of mint on his tongue as he wraps it around yours, almost battling for a spot in your mouth.

When he pulls away, you were out of breath. You watch his eyes scan your body and take in the sight. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself to you. You just look...so hot right now." He says, taking his hand off of your wrists and trying to back up to free you. Your eyes wander and notice the bulge in his pants. A dirty thought crossing your mind. "If I look so hot, why don't you do something about it." You smirk up at him, gently guiding your knee over his bulge, sending shivers down his spine. "I'm stuck Vox, helpless under you. You really going to throw this golden opportunity away for both of us?" You teased. Vox composes himself and lets out a low chuckle, the antenna on his head letting out some sparks. "You've been driving me insane all day, babe." He speaks in a low tone, his voice turning you on. You feel around above you and grab the nearest cables and tangle your wrists in it, "Show me what you can do, Vox."

He didn't hesitate to undo his bowtie. He took off your top, tossing them to the side before lifting up your skirt. He was taken aback at the thongs you were wearing, they matched his shirt. "Did Velvette put this one on you too?" He asks as he caresses your inner thigh. You purr at his touch, "Mmm...No. Those ones are mine. I got them after your confession~" "You know how to drive me crazy." He slides your thongs off and lightly drags his finger over your slit, making you shiver in excitement. "Now it's my turn to drive you crazy." His blue tongue sticks out of his screen and goes straight into eating you out, relishing your taste. You suppress your moans as to not let anybody else hear. "Be loud, this room is soundproof."

His tongue enters you and swirls around, driving you as crazy as you've been driving him. You squirm in pleasure as the overlord feasts upon you, licking up all the juices. You feel a knot forming in your stomach, your face flushing in delight, "Ah. V-Vox." You moan out, "I-I'm gonna-" He doesn't stop one bit, if anything it seems like he sped up. The knot grew tighter and tighter until you came all over his face. He pulls away, grinning as he looks at your shaking body.

"Let's go somewhere, more comfortable for you." He untangles you with ease, besides your wrists, and teleports the two of you into his already locked bedroom. He plops you down on the bed before taking his pants off, his cock leaking pre-cum. You drool at the sight of his length, "Come here." You say, still a bit out of breath, as you get on your knees for him. "Giving me orders now?" He chuckles as he got closer to your face, his cock resting on your cheek, "Is this what you want, babe?" You look up at him with lust filled eyes before you take him into your mouth, tongue wrapping around his length as you your head up and down. He grabs your hair, making sure it stays out of your face as he looks down at you sucking him, "What a good girl," He purrs, caressing your cheek. You pick up your speed, eager to taste him. Vox grunts in pleasure, thrusting his hips as he pushed himself deeper into you, "Make sure you take every last drop." He grabs your head and starts fucking your face deeper as he gets closer. His cock twitched before letting a load down your throat. He pulls himself out of you, your lips making a pop as he did. You open your mouth to show him what was left, closing it to swallow and opening it back up again to show him that you didn't leave a single drop. He puts his hand under your chin, "Now ass up, sweetheart." You wasted no second getting into position for him. You've been dying to take his cock ever since he confessed to you. Ever since you found out he watched you on his screens. Ever since you laid eyes on him actually. "You're drenched, babe." He grins as he rubs his tip at your entrance, "Beg." You whine and wiggle your hips, trying to see if you can slide him in yourself. He grabbed your hips firmly, slapping your ass, "I said, BEG." he demanded. "Please Vox." "Please what?" He teased his tip, pushing just a little bit in, "What do you want? Speak up." "Please fuck me senseless, Vox. Please." You pleaded in desperation. He grabs your hair, pulling your head up closer so he can whisper in your ear, "Good girl." God the way his voice changes sent shockwaves through out your body.

He enters you slowly, "I'm going to make your entire body glitch the way you made me glitch." He was relentless. Torturing you almost. He picked up his speed and started pounding into you. You moaned in delight, enjoying how rough he was with you. "Faster, please Vox." Your request filled with pleasure, "Vox. Pl-please!" He slaps your ass in response, letting go of your hair and holding your head down on the bed, "Since you asked so nicely." He kept himself at a quick pace, taking in the sight of you drooling on his sheets. He pulls out of you to flip you over, you were about to whine but him suddenly filling you back up again stopped that quick.

Your walls tightened around him, "You're so tight. Are you gonna cum for me like a good girl?" Your brain was turning into mush, rendering you unable to form a real response. The only sounds coming from your mouth were ineligible slurred words and moans. "I'm going to fill you up as deep as I can. I'm making you mine." He growls, pinning your tied wrists above your head. He plants on your chest before licking your exposed chest. He leaves hickies all over your chest, marking this night on your body for only him to see. You feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach again and you're positive he can feel it too. He grunts as he thrusted into you with reckless abandon, pounding you senseless into his mattress.

"V-Vox. Pl-please." He kisses you with as much passion as he could give as you cum around his cock, tightening your walls so much you squeeze him dry as he released his fluids deep into you. The electricity crackled as soon as he came before everything powered down around you. He pulls away from you, resting his head on your neck as he tried to catch his breath. You can see the light emitting from his face flickering different colors.

He pulls out of you, his cum flowing out. He grabs a towel to clean you off as well as he was able to before cleaning himself off. He unties your wrist before plopping down next to you. You nuzzle up next to him. The city lights turn back on and the light seeped into his room. He seems to have kept the lights off in the room. You feel his arm wrap around you. You look up at him, hand resting on his chest.

"Was the teasing worth it or what?" You asked, giggling a little bit. "Hell yeah it did. I'm so glad I sat through the whole show just for you." He sighs contently, pulling you closer to him. "Will you run this entire hell with me, dear?"

"Gladly, Vox."

Valentino groans as he sends over $100 to Velvette. "You of all people should know he wasn't going to be able to pussy out this time." She grins.

[angelbwrry]

sex for dummies part 2. eren j. 2.7k. part 1

cw୨ৎ nsfw link, kissing, fingering, creaming, squirting, dirty talk, female oral, praising, cervix kissing, clit overstimulation, black reader, lowercase intended . . . am i forgetting anything? oh, in which eren fingers your pussy. . . a little too good:) minorssssss nottttt alllowed!

perfectly arched eyebrows knit together across your forehead, the pink pen clutched tightly between your fingers as you tried to decipher the mess of equations in front of you. eren’s handwriting was a chaotic jumble of loops and lines, almost as if he had scrawled them in a hurry without a second thought. frustration bubbled up inside you, your lips pressing into a thin line as you struggled to make sense of the numbers and symbols.

the room was silent except for the occasional scratch of your pen against the paper and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. each tick seemed to echo louder, a constant reminder of the dwindling time you had left to prepare. you could feel the pressure mounting, a heavy weight settling on your shoulders. no matter how hard you tried, the concepts just wouldn’t click. it was like trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

a deep sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. the thought of failing the test loomed over you like a dark cloud, threatening to shatter your dreams. you could already imagine the disappointed looks on your teammates' faces, the whispered conversations behind your back. the fear of losing your spot on the cheer team gnawed at you, adding to the sense of dread that had settled in your chest.

“rome wasn’t built in a day, ʚ♡ɞ,” eren speaks up, his voice breaking the silence as he repeatedly tosses one of your stuffed animals in the air and catching it with ease. he’d been so quiet you forgot he was even here. you breathe deeply, pulling your legs into your chest, trying to focus. it’s sunday, and you weren’t able to study with him yesterday since he was busy. yeah, you’re definitely fucked.

“i am so cooked.”

you’re pulled from your thoughts as you feel his warm body behind you, and you can’t help but hitch a breath. ever since friday night, eren had been secretly plaguing your mind. the way he’d kissed you, held you, all of it sent your mind into a flurry. you chalked it up to your raving hormones. besides, if it wasn’t for him being so good at math, you probably would’ve never talked to him. so why is your heart racing so damn fast when he’s simply just standing behind you?

“here, let me work a problem out for you. i’ll write down the steps and you’ll follow.” his voice is soothing, deep and almost hypnotic. one hand is placed flat on the desk, steadying himself, while the other wraps around you, sketching across the lined paper. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and his scent—clean, with a hint of something musky—is practically smothering. it didn’t help that he’d shown up in yet another tight compression shirt, leaving little to the imagination. his large hands make your pen look like a toy—they’re so big . . . snap out of it.

eren gives you the pencil to try a problem next, his fingers brushing against yours as he hands it over. "okay, so let's go over this one more time," eren hums, leaning over the table further to point at the problem on the worksheet. "remember, you need to find the derivative of this function first, and then you can apply the chain rule."

you nod, your brows furrowed in concentration. you take a deep breath and start working through the problem, your pen moving quickly across the paper. you can feel the pressure building inside you, the fear of making a mistake gnawing at your confidence. your mind races, but you push through, determined to get it right. eren watches you closely, ready to step in if you need help, but also giving you the space to figure it out on your own.

after a few minutes, you stop and look up at him, your eyes wide with excitement. "i think i got it!" you exclaim, your voice filled with hope and a hint of uncertainty. please let this be right, you think, your heart pounding in your chest.

eren smiles, taking the paper from you to check your work. his eyes scan the equations, and he feels a surge of pride as he realizes you got it right. "you did it!" he says, his voice full of genuine happiness. "you got it right!"

your face lights up with joy, and before you can stop yourself, you throw your arms around him in a jubilant hug. "oh my god, thank you so much!" you squeal, your voice muffled against his chest. "i couldn't have done it without you!" you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the tension melting away.he laughs, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close for a moment. "i'm so proud of you," he says softly into your hair, his voice warm and sincere. "you’re working so hard, and it’s paying off."

you pull back slightly, your face still glowing with happiness. your eyes meet, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. he reaches down, his thumb gently brushing across your lower lip, his touch soft and tender. "can i kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. is this really happening? you wonder, your heart skipping a beat.

your heart skips a beat, and you nod, your eyes never leaving his. "yes," you whisper back, your voice trembling with anticipation. this feels like a dream, you think, your mind spinning.

he leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to change your mind, but you don't. it’s a soft, tentative kiss at first, but when you kiss back, it deepens, becoming more urgent. before you know it, you’re both on the bed, the precalc problems forgotten as the moment takes over, his hands exploring, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“i guess it’s time for your second lesson, fingering,” you mutter breathlessly against his lips, your voice quivering with a mix of excitement and nervousness. the intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming, as it’s hard to ignore the way your core throbs with anticipation, feeling him pressed firmly between your legs. his piercing green eyes lock onto yours, and in that instant, you swear you could melt at his touch, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine and making your heart race uncontrollably. he simply nods, a silent yet powerful agreement, before his lips capture yours hungrily.

as he begins to undress you, his hands move with a deliberate slowness, each touch more electrifying than the last. his fingers trace the outline of your body, lingering on every curve and dip, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. the fabric of your clothes seems to melt away under his touch, and with each piece that falls to the floor, the tension between you grows more palpable. his lips never leave yours, maintaining a connection.

the sensation of his hands exploring your skin, combined with the heat of his kiss, overwhelms your senses. his touch is both gentle and possessive. every brush of his fingertips sends sparks of pleasure through your body, heightening your awareness of every little movement, every breath, every heartbeat.

you wanna cry out when his cold fingers pull open your legs, taking in the sight of you. you’re so damn perfect, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s ever seen. his breath hitches as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. the way your arousal seeps from your shivering cunt makes it clear that you’re aching for his touch. the anticipation is almost unbearable, each second feeling like an eternity.

eren isn’t a professional, but he’s learned a few things from porn sites and his friends. he’s eager to put that knowledge to use, to make you feel every bit of pleasure you deserve. his large hands grip your soft brown thighs, holding you in place. you’re so damn thick it drives him crazy, the feel of your flesh beneath his fingers sending waves of desire through him. he marvels at your curves, at the way your body responds to his touch.

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. his fingers trace delicate patterns along your inner thighs, teasing you, making you shiver with anticipation. he loves the way you react to him, the way your body trembles and your breath hitches. every touch, every glance, heightens the intensity between you, making the moment almost unbearable with anticipation.

his lips find their way to your skin, placing soft kisses along your thighs, moving closer and closer to your core. the sensation is almost too much, your body arching towards him, desperate for more. he takes his time, savoring every moment, every reaction. he wants to make this unforgettable for you.

“eren!” you breathily whine,finally, his ring and middle fingers find their way to your pussy, gently parting your folds. the sensation is electric, sending shockwaves through your body. you can’t help but moan, the sound filling the room, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing. he’s mesmerized by the sight of you.

he begins to explore you with his fingers, his touch gentle yet deliberate. he’s learned a lot, and he’s eager to show you just how much he knows. his fingers move with precision, finding all the right spots, making you gasp and moan with pleasure. he loves the way you react to him, the way your body arches and your breath quickens.

“such a pretty pussy , you’re so warm.” he can’t help but let out a moan himself as he fucks your pussy gently, cock twitching as he watches your greedy pussy grasp at his fingers.

"p-please, t-touch my clit!” it's hard to form a coherent sentence as he thrusts into you, his large fingers pressing against your cervix with a relentless rhythm. eren obeys without hesitation, his mouth moving sloppily against your sensitive bud. his lips and tongue work in tandem, exploring every inch of your pussy with fervor. he's not entirely sure if he's doing it right, but the way you’re chanting his name, your voice filled with raw desire, and the way your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, he guesses he must be.

the taste of you is intoxicating, a perfect blend of sweetness and saltiness that drives him wild. he can’t get enough, his tongue lapping at your clit with an almost desperate hunger. you feel every flick, every swirl, each movement sending electric shocks of pleasure through your body. your legs tremble uncontrollably, your back arching off the bed as you try to press yourself even closer to him.

“oh my goddd,” you moan, your voice a mix of a whimper and a gasp, as eren’s pace quickens. his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you steady as he thrusts deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

eren’s mouth never leaves your clit, his tongue working in perfect harmony with his thrusts. he sucks gently, then harder, alternating between soft flicks and intense pressure. your hands claw at the sheets, your body a live wire of sensation. you can feel the tension building, a coil tightening deep within you, ready to snap at any moment.

“mm, look at you creaming on my fingers,” his eyes glisten with a mix of admiration and desire as he watches the thick substance build at the base of his fingers. “didn’t take you as the messy type,” he chuckles, his voice low and teasing. he’s clearly enjoying the sight and feel of you.

he continues pushing his fingers inside of you, the slick wet sounds filling his ears, shlick, shlick,shlick spurring him on, his movements becoming more confident and deliberate. you’re a complete and utter mess underneath him, your body trembling with need and pleasure.

he had asked you for guidance, yet it didn’t seem as if he needed it. personally, he thought he’d fuck up because he wasn’t sure what to do at first just had an idea, but now he seemed to have found his rhythm. his fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that makes you gasp and arch your back. each movement is precise, calculated to draw out the maximum amount of pleasure. he watches your reactions closely, his eyes never leaving your face, taking in every expression, every moan, every gasp.

“you like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. he can feel you tightening around his fingers, your body responding eagerly to his touch. he adds another finger, stretching you further, his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit the sensations are overwhelming, your mind going blank with pleasure.

“yesyesyes mm’fucking yes!”

his other hand roams your body, caressing your skin, tracing patterns on your thighs and stomach. he’s completely focused on you, on making you feel as good as possible. his fingers move faster, the wet sounds growing louder, mingling with your moans. he’s relentless.

“eren, i’m so close,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with urgency. the words seem to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more frantic and determined. he growls against your clit, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body, making you sob with pleasure. his desire to see you squirt drives him, and he places a firm palm flat down on your pudgy stomach. he remembers reading somewhere that this can help him access a woman’s g-spot from the outside, and he’s eager to see if it works.

tears prick your eyes as he continues to fuck you with relentless precision, an unfamiliar but intensely pleasurable sensation building in your stomach. instinctively, you snap your legs shut, the overwhelming feeling almost too much to bear. but eren’s palm smacks against your thigh, making you yelp and quickly open them again. “keep your legs open, pretty,” he commands, his voice rough with desire.

you nod shakily, trying to comply despite the intense sensations coursing through you. “ah! fuck!” you whine, your voice breaking as you feel the pressure inside you reach its peak. with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers, you begin to squirt, the release so powerful that it drenches the bed. eren watches in awe and satisfaction, his eyes locked onto the sight of you coming undone beneath him.

his fingers don’t stop, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. your body trembles uncontrollably, your mind a haze of ecstasy. eren’s touch is both gentle and demanding, coaxing more and more from you until you’re completely spent, your body limp and quivering.

as you come down from your high, eren’s fingers finally slow, then stop. he pulls them out carefully, his eyes never leaving your face. he brings his wet fingers to his lips, tasting the evidence of your release with a satisfied grin. “you did so well,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he leans in to kiss you gently. you’re left breathless, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you can’t help but smile at the look of pride and affection in his eyes.

what the fuck.

you didn’t even know you could squirt.

“ready to get back to studying princess?”

chile. did eren even really need a lesson for this? he ate down. as always, likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, bye babies 🫧

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I really like your writing. It gives me strength to continue living. Thank you!! Can I request Yandere! Pantalone Zhongli Neuvi Ayato with Tsundere Reader👉👈

i cannot confirm or deny whether or not i fully understood this. for clarification, i know what a tsundere is and even googled it to be double sursies, but i have never written about a tsundere before so i don't know how good this is, sorrryyyy ;v;

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, like obsessive behaviors, intentional setting off of reader, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be so confused and irked. He doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t understand you. You’re so cold and off-putting at times and other times you’re a fumbling, blushing mess. He’s confused as to why you seem to flip between the two so fervently, he tries his best to understand it but all the mora in Teyvat still couldn’t help him figure it out.

Pantalone and you sit, silently eating dinner in his office. It’s a typical night with nothing but the company between you two. “Here, try this.” Pantalone uses his fork to pick up a bite of his food, something he had been served but that you had initially passed on. He smiles softly at the faint blush that settles onto your cheeks, brushing over the soft skin. When he points out how he adores it though it only darkens as you scowl at him. Even if he doesn’t understand the sudden switch, he still brings to light that he finds your pout even cuter, launching you into a spiral of angry words.

Yandere!Zhongli is a little baffled at first but seems to quickly pick up on what things cause that subtle shift in your behavior. He often does things intentionally to make you ‘upset’ , finding you to be quite humorous and adorable. 

Zhongli couldn’t help but smile as you ranted and raved about a comment of his, your balled fist lightly tapping his chest as you pretended to strike him. When a chuckle arose he had to bring his hand up to politely cover his mouth, his teeth sinking into his tongue to prevent the escape of the noise. You were simply too cute, it was impossible for him to not make little comments that he knew would set you off. It was never anything harsh, he could never hurt your feelings like that, but he still knew which phrases worked best against you. And until you no longer seemed affected by them, he’d continue to use them.

Yandere!Neuvillette is entirely perplexed. His understanding of human behavior is limited to what he’s observed over the years from his position in the court and what he’s learned from stories the melusines tell him. He tries asking you about it every time only to never receive an answer, he’s even asked other people if your behavior is normal and all they can seem to reply with is that you’ve always been that way.

To say Neuvillette was confused would be an understatement, he simply could not wrap his head around any part of you. He couldn’t even ask what made you act so mean sometimes cause you’d get upset and say you weren’t being mean! Asking around to the townsfolk didn’t aid much in his pursuit of understanding either, people just seemed to know only that you’ve always been like that. Neuvillette is nothing but determined to understand what makes you, you though, so you can rest assured nothing you say will deter him from you.

Yandere!Ayato finds it rather amusing, often calling you into his office whilst he’s working so that he can see your pouty face as he teases you. The faint blush crawling across your skin makes your true feelings evident though, even still he knows when enough is enough.

Ayato smiled amusedly as he watched you rant and rave in front of his desk. Today was another day where he had called you forth to fluster you, you don’t know why you still came at this point! Your pout, crossed arms, and sudden attitude only makes things more amusing, with Ayato resting his elbows on his desk, hands intertwined beneath his chin to support his head. His eyes never leave you as he listens with intent, knowing that even if it’s just senseless rambles about how ludicrous his behavior is, it’s still you speaking to him and he’ll always listen.

[penvisions]

unexpected bloom {joel miller x reader}

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A single flower and a chance encounter brings color to your life.

Word Count: 965

Warnings: none really, fleeting sexual content, allusions to adult content, kissing, fluff, pre-outbreak / no outbreak au

A/N: this was done to try and shake some writer's block, as a part of the 'flora and fauna' writing challenge by @morallyinept

ao3 link || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

A single flower.

That’s how it all started.

And you thanked every lucky star in the universe as you felt the heat of the body you now curled around as you slowly woke from your slumber. The broad back your front was pressed to was bare, skin on skin in the most intimate of ways that turned from barely conscious and sensual to wide awake and desperate.

Grunts fall from the man’s full lips as he presses his hands to the backs of your thighs, his hips moving against yours in a steady rhythm. Your own fingers tangled almost painfully with his as they hold you in the position he’s found you like the best. The one that punches the most wonton and guttural sounds from deep in your chest as he brings you to the shattering crest of pleasure over and over again. His curls may be graying, his hands weathered and callous, his back aching and sore. But he always seemed to find his youth when you smiled at him over the rim of your mug or trailed a hand over his broad shoulders.

He had certainly found his youth when you had approached him in front of your workplace to compliment the flowers he had been contracted to plant all along the buildings entrance. Enough so that he hadn’t even thought of how completely sappy and unfounded his plucking of a single one to deliver to your desk with a handwritten note had been until well after he had done it. The nervous panic setting in once he was back in the safety of his home and the deed had been mentioned by a tittering Sarah as she recounted her first day as an intern in the very same building.

Of how she had giggled and fawned over the move he had made without much thought beyond how you had to be prettier than all the flowers he had been dealing with. He felt embarrassment flood him, his fork suddenly clinking between his teeth and his ears tipped pink as he watched his daughter rave about how romantic and sweet it had been for someone to do that. How no one seems to care about stuff like that anymore and all she gets are text messages she doesn’t even know how to respond to their so dry and unoriginal. He puts aside his embarrassment to tell her that if she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to engage. That she deserves only the best because she is the best. His whole world in the most perfect package right across the table from him.

She pauses, her own ears tinging as she smiles brightly before teasing him for being such a dad.

But he takes it in stride, because that seems to be his whole purpose in life. To be her dad, to be the one person she could rely on for anything and everything. But that since she had graduated from her university program and moved from their home into a dorm to get the full experience and now an apartment with her friend Ellie while they worked internships, he didn’t get much of a chance to be that.

His newfound purpose was to be your boyfriend.

Something he took just as much pride in because you were perfect too.

He had taken you another single flower the following day after Sarah’s gushing of how lucky you were and how excited you had been to find the first on your desk. How your eyes kept falling on the gift he had left throughout the day. One each day until your schedules had aligned and he could take you out on a proper date. The once single flowers had turned into bouquets, his once written words became spoken affections. You had smiled so gorgeously and laughed so genuinely that he had fallen even deeper in his feelings for you. The ones you returned with bashful and then teasing words. Wit sharp and endearing as time ticked by.

Something you reminisced on as he laid beside you now, both panting for air. Skin sticky with sweat and hands idly wandering over each other.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” He rumbles, seeing the way your gaze is both focused and faint. Not wanting him to worry, you press a kiss to his damp temple, rolling over to lay half over him. His arms come to rest on your lower back, anchoring you to him.

“Thinkin’ about flowers,” You grin, teeth catching the sunlight peeking through the thick curtains. Resting your chin atop folded hands over his chest.

“We need to plant some for the season, before it’s too hot.” He touches the tip of his nose to yours, causing your face to wrinkle as you scrunch against the tickle of his moustache across your lips.

“Let’s get peonies.”

“Anythin’ for you, you know that.”

“I think…I think I want those for my bouquet too.” Your eyes trail from his handsome face to the ring that sits on your finger. Warm from your skin, from his.

“Yeah?” His eyes soften as he watches you admire the jewelry. He had been so nervous when he begun to plan his proposal, the whole thing thrown out the window one morning when you had peered at him through the open window of his truck as he dropped you off at work. The words had burst from his chest in one solid breath, shocking you both. Another step with you that felt so natural he had done it without thinking. But it paid off, because here you were with him still.

And to think, he had almost turned down the job for worry of embarrassing his daughter at her first job.

“Yeah.” You pressed the single word to his lips.

[paimonial-rage]

procedural - alhaitham

[random writing event] | requested by @crane1000

Being known as one of those more free-spirited sort, you were never one for schedules. It wasn’t that you had anything against them. You just found it difficult to devote yourself to doing things at a set time on a set day was rather constricting. So when you were hired to work as the Akademiya’s scribe’s assistant, you were in for a whirlwind of change. Alhaitham was scheduled. Procedural, even. And he made sure you were too.

With Alhaitham, work started at 9am sharp. After half an hour of reviewing his intray, he would start on drafting proposals, copying documents, and creating lists. It was your job to maintain and organize the many papers that passed through his hands. Lunch was taken at noon on the dot. After, you would be out and about passing correspondence, picking up new books from the House of Daena, and communicating with the other departments. Once 5pm hit, you were finally released.

Through everything, Alhaitham prized efficiency and efficacy above all else. And though it took time to get used to his spartan ways, you could see the value in following his work style. Everything made sense. That is, mostly everything. When you sat down and really thought about everything, though, you couldn’t help but feel that there was something… odd about the way he did a few things.

Ever since you started, Alhaitham began eating out for lunch almost everyday, always inviting you along. Which was weird because you heard he usually brought lunch made by his roommate. You didn’t think it was too strange at first. You were friends with Alhaitham during your student years, after all. He probably wanted to catch up. But to continue on for a few months…?

It didn’t help that you did much of the talking at lunch. Sure, you were extremely talkative, but you thought he’d surely get tired of listening to you ramble on by now. But no, no matter how much you babbled about, he’d always respond with some intelligent response showing he was listening to you all along. That wasn’t even considering the way he opted to sit next to instead of across from you. Were you that interesting to listen to?

Then there was the way he’d actually listen to and take the random advice you’d give. The new fountain pens upon his desk were suggested by you, as were the coffee beans he now used at home. He let you drag him to new restaurants at lunch and borrowed the books you raved about in the House of Daena. You never heard of him doing this for anyone else.

And lastly…

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yep! Just finished packing up,” you replied, standing up from your desk. “Let’s go.”

As that classes were finally finished for the day, the Akademiya was abuzz with students. In the back of your mind, you had no doubt that the streets of Sumeru City would only be busier seeing that most people were finally leaving work.

“You don’t need to walk me home,” you began with an apologetic laugh. “It’s probably going to take a while.”

“It’s fine,” he replied. “Besides, weren’t you the one that insisted on finishing your story earlier?”

“Oh, you’re right!” You exclaimed. “So what happened next was…”

As you chatted about the happenings and various gossip that managed to find their way into your nosy ears, at some point your hand found its way into his. It often happened seeing that the busy roads often pushed and shoved you about. And as kind as he was to help you, you couldn’t help but feel that it was, like all the other things, unnecessary.

“Why are you so nice to me?” You found yourself asking when you finally reached your home.

Though his eyes widened for a moment, they soon narrowed as he crossed his arms as if observing you.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

You paused in thought.

“Because you see me as a friend?” You asked curiously.

You were met with a long exasperated sigh.

“Sure, let’s say that,” he finally said as he turned to leave. “Rest well.”

As you waved him goodbye, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh to yourself. Oh well. You’ll figure out his secrets some other time.

[grapejuicestyless]

Burn Out

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n was often labeled, “the gifted kid.” She can’t help but feel like she’s falling behind when everyone’s suddenly leaving her behind

link to request HERE.

She’d heard it her whole life. From the day she could walk to her first report card with letters on it, her mother always threw the term around to all her friends. She bragged to her relatives, boasted to her co-workers. It felt nice to be good, to get good grades, to do well in activities after school. But with each passing year, Y/n grew up wanting to be great.

She was tired of her mother raving to Susannah about how good at writing she was for her age. She didn’t want to be good for her age. She just wanted to be great. It seemed that no matter how much she excelled, she was forever bound to that boundary that left her feeling less than.

Being good for her age didn’t feel like a compliment after she reached double digits. She felt stupid. Why couldn’t she be more? Why was she subjected to only be allowed to succeed within the group of individuals who all shared the same birthdays, birth years? Why wasn’t she ever compared to the big kids? The varsity athletes who complimented her and the art prodigies who urged her to pursue it for longer. Why couldn’t anyone see how hard she was treating to be the best she could?

It was obvious she was going places. How while Conrad and Steven ran around throwing footballs and splashing around in the pool, Y/n was curled up in the grass reading best selling novels and scandalous news stories. She was set on being great her whole childhood, never enjoying the simple things. But her love for reading and writing that developed in her tween years is what started her spiral.

Y/n was set on being a journalist. She had her future planned out. She wanted to go to an Ivy League. The state or the name didn’t matter. She wanted something she could put on her work resume to show everyone what she could do. She worked for it. She dropped all of her sports, all of her art classes. She was set on this career path she wanted so badly. She wrote for the school newspaper, the yearbook, the town paper. She did it all. Even without the early morning wake ups in the summer, her eyes carried heavy eye bags from her obsessive work ethic. She sat at the desk Susannah and Laurel had built for her by the bay window. She wrote and she wrote until her palms were grey with graphite and her fingers calloused and aching.

They all said she would outgrow it. The desire to be the best, the competitive nature she had. When she didn’t, they began to realize their mistake. Y/n never saw her peers as her biggest competitors, but herself as her biggest threat. She wanted to out write herself, make everything she could the best possible so even when she was old she could smile and say she was proud of it. To everyone, it seemed that with her obsessions and excessive efforts, she was headed right where she wanted to be.

Y/n’s mother always believed she wouldn’t have to put any money away for Y/n. Surely, she would be able to manage a full ride somewhere wonderful. A penny wouldn’t be spent on anything more than the books and the comforter for her dorm room. The added pressure to Y/n’s already rotten mind tainted with the intense pressure to remain as gifted as her mother had always convinced everyone she was.

Quickly, it built. Her hands still ached and she still spent hours at her desk, but she couldn’t write anymore. It all came out in short sentences that led her no where. There was no connection to make it make sense. She couldn’t think of ways to out do herself, ways to reinvent the greatness she knew she had within herself. She couldn’t spend every hour studying until her eyes drooped and the pages were stuck together with her drool. She couldn’t do it anymore.

The only way to describe what Y/n felt was burnt out. Sluggish. She moved through the days just the same, but they dragged. She wasn’t productive. She laid in bed eyes crusty and dry from all of her tears being wasted on her pillows.

She was failing. Not only in her head now, but now everyone else knew it. She was barely passing English and now calculus and physics seemed like too much to juggle. She didn’t feel wise beyond her years anymore. She felt right where she started, bound to the boundaries of her own age. No matter how hard she tried, her motivations were gone. She wasn’t a prodigy, she just tried. She wasn’t gifted, she was simply obsessive. She had little friendships left, no boyfriend. Her own dreams got in the way of her childhood.

When the letters came in, she watched how everyone around her rejoiced, basking in their victories. Steven was going to Princeton. Jeremiah to finch and Belly would surely follow him. The one that stung the most was Conrad. He’d already managed a spot in Browns pre-med program. Not that Y/n wanted that for herself, to be a doctor that is. No, but to have to ability to show everyone from her small hometown she had the brains to escape, be known. But Brown was never enough for Conrad. How could one of the hardest Ivy’s to get into ever be enough for the overachieving blonde? The boy who never really had to try in order to be great. He had to rub salt into the wound by getting into Stanford the following summer.

Y/n never hated Conrad for it. It wasn’t his fault he was just naturally better than her. But it stung that the only college that she could afford would be the safety state school. Her mother was partially to blame. Even though Y/n had gotten into some of the hardest schools to attend, none came with the financial aid she needed. She was good, but not enough. Without any savings from her mother, the money she had saved was not nearly enough to travel the map for school. She would forever be stuck somewhere she didn’t want to be.

It wasn’t like she cared the most, less work in some senses. Yet, the pounding headache that constantly beat at her self esteem screamed at her. How the voices that taunted her for all these years had finally been proven right.

Y/n would always be good, but she could never be great.

Careful of the heaviness of it all, Conrad treaded lightly to her slumping frame.

Sitting in her room, shadows casted over her quilt, her eyes stared blankly into the old oak desk she once considered something short of an oasis. Her papers were neat, pencils dull. Used up from pointless ideas and messy attempts to grasp at her lost talents.

Holding the letters, detailing how much she owed to prove herself, the debt she ultimately couldn’t afford, she began to grow resentful. How she had wasted her best years on something she couldn’t afford to achieve. While everyone else had memories of beach volleyball and sandcastles, Y/n had paper cuts and tired eyes. It was all so defeating to realize.

While many could brush her off as too sentimental, too emotional over something so small, Conrad knew her better. He saw the way her eyes dimmed, her heart stuttered. She died just hours ago in that once lively kitchen when reading the news.

“I’m a failure.” It was all she could manage. Three shaky words that broke between, her breathing coming out in quiet gasps. It was like a knife to the heart, realizing someone so persistent was finally giving up. Crumbling.

In her mind, she had made every mistake possible. She’s given up something so important, risked the loss of her childhood all for some dream she herself couldn’t even achieve with all the hours of work she forced upon herself. Yet, to Conrad, she hadn’t failed in the slightest. Y/n was wise well beyond her years. She had a mind like no other, a way with her words but also reasoning behind each sentence that made even the most outlandish claims seem more truthful than a defined fact. To him, she was the definition of greatness.

“You have your whole life ahead of you.” He’d tried to reassure her, words muffled against her hair. She smelled of coconut and fruits. Freshly washed hair as clean and neat as her mind once was. Still, his touch and his words held no weight in Y/n’s racing mind.

How could she explain to him each detail of the situation, each complexity that made her so distraught, so self destructive? Not only had she failed, but in all her efforts, she’d missed out on the best years of her life. She wondered if she would have to live with herself, from now for eternity wishing she could go back? Lay out under the stars and watch as satellites became mistaken as comets by her friends.

“Will it feel like this forever?” She’s asked almost too innocently. It was a genuine question. Would the stabbing pains in her heart, the throbbing inside of her skull ever full into an ache she could ignore for her own good? Would she ever stop living in regret and just be able to live her life without her own fears of missing out, of falling short?

“It’s gets better.” He’d promised her. Truthfully, there was no way he could’ve known. He was blessed with the ability to be effortlessly great. Always at the top without any struggle for the power that came with it. All while Y/n had to fight for even a spot on the podium.

Conrad only had one regret then. That he hadn’t been quicker to stop Y/n from falling so far, so hard. He knew it better than anyone, he lived and breathed burnouts. He crashed constantly, falling flat on his face. Yet, somehow he never slipped from where he stood. He wished that she could see just how amazing she was.

“What if I don’t?” It was a double edged sword. Both a question of mentally and physically. Would the pain ever ease? Would the slump fade into a distant memory of her teenage years? Would her skills resume into a climb of greatness as Y/n developed into something just short of Shakespeare? She still longed for that sense of accomplishment in her life. She still strives to be at the top and it was killing her. The fact that in her constant need to get better, she had fallen into a state of panic when she saw no progress. She feared that in her best efforts, she’d already given up all the best parts of herself, to no avail.

Conrad couldn’t promise her that she would. She had worked so long, fallen just short of what she deserved, all at the faults of the pressures of her youth. All responsibilities she never deserved to have to carry in the first place.

Placing a kiss to her temple, he held onto her like a promise, keeping her locked away in his heart. Silently, as her eyes settled back on the old oak desk, Conrad prayed. He never did that. He wished that there were some alternate universe. One where Y/n could live in peace, free from the restrictions and pressures of her childhood. A life where her future wasn’t something she had to know so early. He hoped that somewhere in that universe, she realized just how important she was, at least to him.

He swore then, even in her darkest hours, despite what the world thought, he would always love her. He only wished that she could see what he thought of her. That she was the greatest thing to ever happen.

[jazzmasternot]

Hazbin hotel college AU head cannons

Note: decided to write these out after reading @sprainedwriting’s fanfic about Adam being a frat boy and I took that concept and ran with it.

Obviously this is based off of my own university experience where I attend a really big public university in the southern US. so that’s where my takes are coming from.

This is also my first time writing anything on here so there’s that aswell.

Charlie

Majors in musical theatre, but not performance education. She wants to be the unhinged theatre teacher that everyone loves. Lives in one of those really fancy student apartment lofts with keke. And is part of the cat club where she feeds the cats on campus

Vaggie

She probably does something super hard like biomedical engineering (let’s go women in stem!) which takes up allot of her time already. Is also an RA for one of the dorms on campus which is good for her bc free housing and gets paid to do her homework at the front desk. Met Charlie in an English class and have been together ever since. When she’s not on call she’s spending the night at Charlie’s and Charlie’s almost always sitting at the front desk with vaggie even tho she doesn’t work or live at the dorm and no one says anything bc it’s just not that deep.

Alastor

Majors in audio engineering and runs the campus radio station that people definitely still listen too. He went to community college first then transferred to a four year (to save money ofc) and is a commuter where he still lives with his mom. Does work study where he works the front desk of the library where he does his homework and works on his scripts for his radio show. Has no interest in working with Vox since he runs the tv channel simply bc he doesn’t want all that extra work. Still takes his notes on pen and paper and still has a nightmare of a time figuring out to electronically submit all his assignments and take his tests.

Angel dust

Okay so hear me out he majors in math ikik it sounds crazy but every gay math major I’ve ever met acts just like Angel dust. Goes to raves and frat parties even tho the guys don’t want him there but he always brings girls with him so the kinda have to let him in. Does nude modeling for extra cash at the art school so he’s kinda a celeb over there even tho he’s not in anyway related to that major.

Husk

Majors in Restaurant and hotel management and is one of those college students that are in their late twenties so already has more life experience than most other ppl here so he doesn’t do allot of the stupid college that allot of other ppl do. Lives in some off campus apartment that’s just a large house rented out to students made to look like a apartment (yk the ones in talking abt) works at the dive bar located just off campus that everyone goes to atleast once in their four years.

Sir pentious

Majors in mechanical engineering or industrial design I can’t really decided. Definitely uses the 3D printer all the time and is on the robotics team, which wins every competition they go to.

Nifty

She’s changed her major so many times nobody knows anymore. Is part of the kpop club and has biases complete with intricately decorated covers, like she has so many photo cards. Also runs the campus hotties account where it’s just a bunch of candids of cute guys taken from far away. Will also get really pissed if you don’t wash your dishes bc it will attract bugs so if ur her roommate you better do the dam dishes.

Cherry bomb

Art major and is the one who got Angel the nude modeling gig. Is always pulling all nighters bc she kept postponing the assimgment till the last minute. Has probably vandalized a couple buildings surrounding the university but hasn’t been caught. Goes to raves and the aforementioned frat parties with Angel. Also has a traffic cone in her dorm room for no other reason than just bc.

Vox

Majors in multi media marketing, runs the campus tv and YouTube channel. Definitely the president of a frat that inflates his ego more than it already is. Always at sporting events at the front row with all the frat guys giving everyone the inside scoop and game commentary. Is very pissed that alastor won’t work with him. Treats himself like a campus celebrity even tho ppl could care less and are just trying to get their degree.

Valentino

majors in film and media productions yeah he’s one of those. Always asking if you’ve seen pulp fiction and telling you that you need to watch some random black and white movie that’s only in French. Will definitely invite you over to watch something with you but we all know that’s not the case. Also all his film projects has allot of unnecessary nudity and sex under the guise of artistic expression, even when it’s so not relevant to the plot. Unless it’s a film that he’s making for the university in which case Vox is controlling every aspect of it which in this case is a good thing. Smokes in his dorm room without a care in the world and has really loud inconsiderate sex at any random point in the 24 hour day cycle.

Velvette

Majors in public relations and runs the university’s Instagram account. She’s always walking up to ppl with a lil microphone to ask you to tell us what you’re wearing. Speaking off she always comes to class dressed up (like the international students) no leggings and tennis shoes for her. Also is definitely in a divine nine sorority, and runs their insta too.

Carmilla

She’s a professor for the aerospace engineering dept and shes here bc she got sick of making rockets for Lockheed Martin and reatheon. Hella smart and ppl are baffled that she chose to give up a seven figure job to teach a bunch of college kids but she’s so chill abt it tho.

Zestial

Definitely English lit professor, makes you read the books no one’s heard of and not the classics. Always brings his own open regular coffee mug from his house to sip his tea from instead of a thermos, everyone asks how he doesn’t spill it on his ride to work. Also just straight up has an electric kettle in his office so he can have tea whenever he wants. Takes turns with carmilla eating lunch in each other’s offices.

Rosie

Studies agriculture sciences and food processing. Will probably run a slaughter house when she’s done with her degree. Hangs out with Alastor in his radio booth from time to time just to gossip about whatever drama is going around lately. Wears long skirts and a tote bag all the time. Is always sweet to Charlie and Emily, also loathes Vox just as much as Alastor she just finds him annoying.

Lucifer

Is probably a religion professor that’s not religious at all and is super laid back in his class like one easy discussion board post a week. The kinda guy to be like “it’s so nice out let’s have class outside today guys” or “if I make this shot ur all getting extra credit on the quiz this week”.

Adam

Definitely majors in finance and is a frat boy. And his band plays at all the said frat parties. Is very insufferable to talk to at parties will try tell you how crypto is the currency of the future and how wolf of Wall Street is his favorite movie. Has a Saturdays are for the boys flag in his room and navy blue sheets. Oh did I mention he vapes he definitely vapes those Mike Tyson ones that taste awful and look like bricks yeah those. Always gets drunk at the tailgate way before the game is even started.

Lute

Yeah she’s in premed and wants everyone to know she’s better than you bc of it. Everyone else’s major is easy compared to hers so don’t you dare complain about all your assignments in her vicinity. She’s basically made it her whole identity like she’s in the premed honors society, future doctors of America. Types her notes on her laptop and then rewrites them with all her gel pens and fancy highlighters, like thee be so colorfull and pretty then the title would be something like blood clots. Still friends with Adam bc they went to the same highschool together and always helping him with his homework in turn he gets her into the tailgate tents and frat parties so she always gets free alcohol.

Emily

Majors in Elementary education and looks like it too, with the Stanley cup, James Avery charm bracelet, and all. She also takes super pretty notes but she does them in class which is super power all in itself, like her desk is scattered with gel pens and highlighters of every color and swears by her bullet journal. She also feeds the cats on campus with Charlie and runs the arts and crafts club on campus where they always host events like tote bag painting in the grass area of the university. Also doesn’t drink bc she’s not twenty one yet even tho she’s in college and definitely won’t smoke even tho most of the ppl that show up to her events are total potheads

Sera

She’s like the university president who doesn’t actually GAF abt the students and just fund’s athletics and raises tuition every year under miscellaneous fees. She tries to come off as supportive when she’s out in public but no one’s buying it.

[silverinkbottle]

Oh. You

Alright. Finished up the season, enraptured by the concept and premise. Especially with our lovely deer boi's total not mental break at the end.

HUGE SPOILERS FOR FINALE OF HAZBIN. GO WATCH THEN READ

Chapter 2 <-

Warnings: Violence. Murky employment of child-like spirits.

Alright. On to the premise of the fic AU.

Summary: Unexpected meetings with Exes are always dramatic. Meetings in Hell after a historic battle aren't an exception to the rule.

A/N: Shorter chapter, but writing the next one as we speak. Yes, more Reader powers/backstory shall be revealed. This was just a hint of it.

Radio Demon..Gone

A pause in the wave of whispers.

Defeated?

Your lips curled in quaint satisfaction. It wasn’t true. No, he was far too proud to go out like that. The cigarette in your left hand was quickly extinguished in a nearby ash tray as you slid over the familiar carriage of the metal typewriter. The melodic ding of the mechanisms as your fingers hovered over the cool keys. The pamphlet would have to be perfect as you could all but hear your boss’s ranting and raving if the ‘excitement’ of the failed extermination. The bravado of Hell’s singular Princess. That was the problem when writing propaganda, it was so much harder when imagining details instead witnessing them first. Or second hand as there was a faint ding of a bell, a small furred paw slid across a new memo over your desk as you glanced over it with little interest. 

Radio Demon. Located.

“Show me. My little rabbit.” You purred as your little messenger respectfully tipped his hat to you. Gently gripping your hand with its paws, you couldn’t help but hold your breath at the claustrophobic sensation of the endless darkness. It was how these little lost souls traveled throughout Hell, through the little pockets of forgotten realities.  Never really existing as a true Sinner or Hellborne, all but clinging to a semblance of existence instead of nothing. It’s how your ‘paper’ boys came to your service. The boys came in a collection of fur colors, blacks, browns, whites even the occasional red, all with long rabbit ears popping through tweed caps, looking smart in little vests and trousers. One key feature remained the same, their facial features were blank like a mannequin in a shop. As if unable to manifest their ‘true’ faces from their past, or was it the disjointed collection of spirits unable to enforce a singular will on the others. 

“Oh”.  Your eyes flickered around to the carnage of rubble. It was a mess, that was the gentlest way of putting it. However, there was an undeniable note of copper in the air, mingling with strangely sweet notes as you nudged at the corpse of an Exorcist in passing. Even that tap with your boot provoked further golden ichor from numerous stab wounds. 

“Don’t touch that.” You hissed quickly grabbing the paperboy’s hand to plug him away from the puddle. Who knew what would happen if it managed to somehow consume the holy blood. The gory vision of an imploded corpse passed over your mind. Or somehow the souls reviving themselves. No, it wouldn’t do as your hand tightened about the child-like figure’s wrist as the pair of you marched toward the wreckage of the radio station. 

The copper flecks in the warped into something far saltier as you unceremoniously kicked in the half-broken door. A squeak of excitement came from your servant as it was drawn to the energy lingering in the air, bouncing into the room. Paws reaching for the unseen as another loud squeal came from its’ faceless mask. A true scream like that of a small child as black blood dripped down onto the floor, followed by the corpse dissipating much to the disappointment of the predator. Alastor lazily flicked the ink-like blood from his hand as you sighed.

“You look like shit.” You said as that seemed to grab his attention from the corpse to you. Suit torn, a visibly hurt shoulder and above all, that dim smile that seemed to go even thinner with your inspection.

“Like even worse than the time with those moonshiners who gave us a bad batch after that wrong call out. Worse than-” 

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here.” 

His words edged with a metallic screech as you couldn’t help but laugh. His pride made it all the worse to have someone witness the great, dangerous, infamous ‘Radio Demon’ licking his wounds. 

“Making sure your ears aren’t burning, darling. The walls talk and this whole stand-off with Heaven will be all the rage on the streets. Especially about YOUR disappearance after returning so briefly for all the fanfare you stirred up. Aligning yourself with the Princess of Hell, facing Angels and aiding in some hotel. Had to come see it for myself..”

“Seems like I was a bit late for that last part. Shame.” You sighed as you jabbed a pointed finger towards the mess outside. Stepping over the corpse it was all too easy to see the little restraint remaining in the demon’s gaze as sharp nails grabbed your face.

“Don’t get pissy because I am telling YOU the truth. A nice change for once, don’t you agree?” You teased as his free hand drifted over the crimson fur of your fox ears. Your sharp canine sank down onto your lower lip to resist the urge to squeal when the gentle touch turned to a rougher tug. A thin trickle of blood drifted over Alastor’s smug expression as you had managed to cut a razor-thin line with your folding knife over his skin. His throat would be next if he didn’t release your ears as you hissed low in your throat.

“Curiosity killed the cat, dearest. Surely you know that better than most.” Alastor retorted as his gaze flicked down to your covered throat. 

“Aren’t we terribly clever.” You sneered as you took a few steps back. Even in his weakened state, you knew it was wiser to play your cards cautiously than provoke him further. Genuine surprise crossed your features as you spied to battered remains of that infernal microphone. So those rumors were true as you withdrew your little black book from your dress pocket. A snap of your fingers as an inkwell pen neatly checked off the short list. You were quick to close the book with a loud sigh as Alastor’s peering over your shoulder was less than subtle. 

“Don’t you-”

“My, my, still writing all sorts of rumors aren’t you. However, do you find the time?” Alastor mused as he flicked lazily through the pages. Irritatingly sidestepping you with each attempted grab. There wasn’t much worth in that book, but it was still beyond infuriating. Taking a deep breath, you forced a pleasant smile on your face as your fingers snapped together. There was the faintest ding of a typewriter as another small rabbit-like creature sprang from the floor, collecting the book with a quick grab. 

“I have reliable help. Which is surprisingly difficult to come by these days. Unlike some Sinners, I can’t shrink from my duties to throw a temper tantrum.” You ticked off the comments on your fingers as Alastor’s ears went flat at the petty remark. 

“Oh, I am sorry. Would you like me to embellish it a bit? A dramatic session of sulking after a bruising defeat. An outburst of egotistical pride? No. Something far more crude. A shit-fit.” You nodded to your little rabbit as its paws hastily scribbled your dictation into the notebook.

“Hilarious.”

“I prefer charming.” You deadpanned as he shook his head at you. There was an almost faint feeling of nostalgia in the air now. It was almost human as the faintest memory of you finding him sulking after a less than perfect evening show. That his beat was off, ever the perfectionist as you patted his head with gentle encouragement. Far less cruel times before the darkness began to contaminate both of you.

“You never did answer my question. What are you doing here?” Alastor quipped as he ran a fingertip over the broken top of the microphone. 

“You really think I would miss out on the potential of this?” You dramatically gestured to the carnage about you.So many stories waiting to be written as you clapped your hands together. Summoning two more paperboys as their ears quivered from side to side waiting for your word. 

“Now off you go. Don’t leave a stone unturned. I wonder if we can get some true numbers on the casualties of saintly Heaven. Now would stir up the populace.” Your pen cut through your book without a thought as if you were in the privacy of your office. Instead of that of one ex-husband who was looking more and more perturbed at your avoidance of the question.

“I’m waiting.” Alastor chirped as his fingers splayed over the wet ink, pulling the book away from you. Or at least he tried to as you were quick to jab the sharp tip of the pen into his index fingers provoking a small hiss from the demon.

“You’ll keep waiting. I’ll give you a single crumb, I didn’t come here for YOU.” You snapped as you did your best to smooth out the crinkled page. The writing itself was a smudged mess of ink as you scowled at the once crisp paper.

“Then. Why?” Alastor asked as you gently closed the book shut, slipping it into your dress pocket. Now came the difficult or was it the dangerous part? Despite your estranged relationship, he was an Overlord and you were well..You. Your connections came from the rumor mills of Hell, whispers of your paperboys hiding in the shadows and the scant bit of information from the rants of your boss.

“I was asked to inspect the battleground, sort out the truth from the gossip and exaggerations. Plus the smallest bit of curiosity-”

“About-?” Alastor mused as he cocked his head at you.

“If it was true that Angels had been slain by their own weapons. I know markets are going to flux with all that. Not to mention the apparent discovery of near comatose cannibals found on the side of the road. Complaining about being TOO full for once, it was quite-” 

“You’re chirping an all too familiar song, kit. I know you are hiding something far more than that. Now whoever could have convinced YOU to do the dirty business of finding out sources yourself.” Alastor mused as he placed a single finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“It was Vox.” 

Laughter burst from you as saw the telltale twitch of his right eye. The harsher smile over his face at the mere mention of his hated rival. The potential power vacuum or perhaps the reverse of it now that the King of Hell seemed less reclusive.

‘Now, don’t get your antlers in a knot. It wasn’t Vox, you really think I would lower myself and quality for his trash version of news? Please, darling. I do have standards.” You smirked as you smugly patted his cheek before turning on your heel to leave the wreckage of the studio.

“Now, don’t sulk for too long. I imagine that little hotel needs you now more than ever.” 

As soon as you stepped back into the air. Small papers were all but shoved in your direction. Questions, answers, comments all things to be filed away as you dove into your work. Allowing words to shove out the memories of the past. To continue forging your path in this forsaken place in your own way. With the smallest bit of leverage through blackmail, threats and a flair all your own. 

Flipping through the notes, the faintest tug on your sleeve pulled your attention from the words. A simple request. One that made you want to throw a tantrum of your own as the golden ink burned in your vision. It wasn’t a request. 

It was an order.

“Fuck me.” You hissed as you pulled a cigarette from your pocket, allowing the flame of your lighter to ignite the blissful nicotine and eat away at the fine paper. Burning the message into ash to join the rest of the wreckage around you.

You hated feeling cornered. It was an ugly feeling that made your skin crawl like a fox with its leg caught in a trap. There was bitter irony in the scenario as you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. The vulpine-like features weren’t as much of a hindrance as you knew it could be for other sinners. Your ears twitched as you could hear the faint conversation outside on the street beneath your room’s window. However, it did make your emotions more expressive as you could guard your tongue, but your ears were another story when it came to harsher emotions.  Running a brush through the soft fur of your tail as you perched on the edge of your desk, quietly directing the paperboys about you. Files had to be carefully moved, copied, sent elsewhere for safekeeping and then copied again. Each copy had little fragments of the truth in it, it would be quite the task to assemble all the pieces of the puzzle if someone was desperate enough. Or stupid enough given the true owner of the content wasn’t fond of others knowing his secrets.

Hours passed in a mere blink of the eye as you sighed running your fingers over the last box of files with satisfaction. All written in ink or typed by typewriter, some called your method of recordkeeping outdated. You preferred to think of it as efficient, it was far more difficult to change dried ink than a meddlesome electronic document. Besides, your boss was pleased as long as you managed to write his dictations without the need for a pause in his rambling. Yet, given the events lately, hopefully the work would keep him bursting into your quarters late at night too often.

Clicking together the last few buttons of your tweed dress collar as the lapel was accented by a singular red rose pin, you couldn't help but admire the shine of it. Its metallic petals caught in the sunlight as you stepped out onto the busy streets.You were quick to grab the ears of the paperboys flanking you, halting them from bolting off, especially with the boxes in their hands.

“No time to dawdle, I can’t be late..” You hissed before releasing the furry ears with a nod. Others would soon follow their steps as you silently hoped your arrival wouldn’t be met with much trouble. Up to the steps of the newly refurbished, rebuilt and endorsed by the King of Hell himself, the newly improved..

Hazbin Hotel

[fountainpenguin]

My favorite thing ever about Anti-Cosmo and the Head Pixie is that you look at Anti-Cosmo and it's like-

"Oh, this is the stereotypical evil villain who is flamboyant, intelligent, suave, and in control! All the other magical antagonists probably defer to him." And then you actually watch him and he does stuff like-

Throw away his wand

Fly in circles at record speeds

Run away from confrontation

Write with colored pens and change color every sentence

Throw paper airplanes

Crash into things

Throw tantrums

Read comic books

Fly a private jet despite being able to fly and teleport

Keep cows in his castle

Keep a cat in his pocket

Stand on the fancy dining table

Pretend to be a scone

Break character as a scone by running away laughing

Defer to H.P. even in his own castle

Defer to his son even in his own castle

Raise an anti-fairy child with H.P. for some reason that's never explained, but which Jorgen has photo evidence of ?? You raised an anti-fairy with the leader of the Pixies ??

Also, knows H.P. and Jorgen well enough to recognize when Jorgen is actually H.P. in disguise??

And there's H.P. who wears a nice suit, works at Pixies Incorporated in the big city, and talks about puppeting people, so you approach thinking "Okay, this is the strict boss who wants all the paperwork filed. He represents why you shouldn't make deals with fairies because he has all these complicated contracts and he's not going to allow wiggle room. Dull and boring; got it."

But it turns out he likes to-

Go to raves

Sing rap songs

Breakdance

Spin on his head and drill into the floor

Wear flowers

Get drunk

Hang out in the hot tub

Climb on people's shoulders

Build miniature models

Fist bumps and finger guns

Call people "Dude"

Draw skulls on things

Say "Gasp" instead of gasping

Get up from his desk and dance around, announcing in monotone "Go me, go me; it's my birthday"

Listen to someone argue with him and then respond with "No, that's hilarious"

Also fly a private jet despite being able to fly and teleport

Elbow people in the side while teasing them

Feed you pizza by shoving his entire hand in your mouth

Stand right in front of you and prank call you

Wear two hats at the same time

Hop on a flying scooter, announce "The only thing you'll be eating is my dust! Later, dude!" and peace out

Complain too many people like him

Use babies as yo-yos

Also, H.P. won a footrace against Anti-Cosmo?? This man made the conscious choice to run instead of fly and he won!?

And that's not even getting into the cross-dressing or the fact that A.C. and H.P. grab each other and hug when they're scared. 10/10 character design. They are so silly...

[imdoingaokay]

Romanced!DAI Companions and Advisors (+ Platonic!Vivienne) when The Inquisitor returns to Skyhold late

(A/N: Heyyyy guys... I've missed you :) This past few months have been awful for me... but I'm back... teeheehee

I think this is gonna be really niche so I feel a need to explain what I was thinking??? Basically, The Inquisitor has been on a mission for a while now and they're returning extremely late at night.

Apologies for the inaccurate lore stuff, I don't think hours exist in Dragon Age because they don't have clocks? Or they do??? I dunno man I got a final tomorrow and I don't know if I'm gonna pass

Just know that the whole reason I got inspired for this was because it was late and I was imagining Vivienne watching The Inquisitor come back and her wrapping her robe around her waist like a mom watching their grown child come home from a rave or something

Once again, no beta we die like men

And happy late dragon age day, love y'all)

TW: Mentions of death

Blackwall/Thom Rainer: Unable to sleep. He’s waiting, whittling at the griffon he keeps. He doesn’t want to sleep anways, who will greet his lover? The wind? No. He’ll stay up, just for a few minutes longer, he tells himself… But soon he finds himself whittling into the early hours of the morning. That’s when there’s a stir of the guards, the whispers, and alerts are quiet, as to not wake up the many souls sleeping, but the message is clear.

His love has returned. And he will wait by the gate, a grin on his face and sleepiness in his eyes. He greedily hopes his lover may wish to sleep a few hours before the rest of Skyhold truly awakens.

Cassandra: She’s in bed, but not sleeping, reading a book. She’s trying to sleep, but her anxieties are getting to her. Somehow, ever since she got the letter saying that her love was returning, she fears even more. Her mind is plagued with images of an assassinated Inquisitor on the way back to her. Maker! Why didn’t that fool just bring her? 

Just as she scoffs, she hears something of a commotion outside. She prays for a moment, the news is good, and she throws on her armor, knowing better than to leave her room without it, and rushes to the gate. This is where her fears are put to rest as she greets her lover, a relieved smile on her face. And it is with this her sleepiness finally settles in. after a quick word, she urges her lover to rest, with or without her. All that matters that they returned.

Cullen Rutherford: He hasn’t slept since his lover left. A few moments where he stares off into space, drifting off before yanking himself back into consciousness. So it feels normal for him as he scribbles away the missives on his desk, being sure to double check each one so he didn’t accidentally write something foolish in his sleep deprived state. Somehow, in this half-dead state of his, he can hear the murmuring of guards outside of his door, and one enters. 

The guard has been ordered to inform Cullen of when they see The Inquisitor, so when they enter, Cullen knows what it’s for. And somehow, the sleepiness Cullen once had disappears, replaced with a drive he always feels when his lover returns. He rushes down the battlement steps, sure to not seem too desperate to his men. And in his excitement, he quickly meets his lover halfway on the bridge. They may be on their horse, but Cullen will happily walk back with them, looking up at them like they hold his whole world in their hands. When his lover gets off their horse, however, that is when he embraces them, a chaste kiss pressed to their cheek. This is when he finally asks them to rest with him, as his exhaustion is coming to bite him in the ass.

Dorian Pavus: Dorian has lied to himself multiple times throughout the night. He lied to himself claiming he didn’t care if he was asleep when his amatus returned from their very dangerous mission. So he lays in his bed for hours, trying to sleep. And when he can’t? He lies to himself, coming up with some excuse as to why his mind will not rest. So he waits in the library, sipping a glass of wine while attempting to read nonchalantly. Of course, he seemingly can’t. So he decides to wait on the battlements, claiming he must need some fresh air. Even though he despises how cold it is that night. 

But, somehow, without meaning to, he notices the small group of people making their way across the bridge. And, without a reason at all, a huge weight is lifted off of Dorian’s shoulders. 

He lets out a sigh and returns to the warmth of the library, happy to wait for his lover to come to him. And when he does, only then does Dorian finally agree to go to sleep. 

Iron Bull: Doesn’t sleep, but this is because he knew his lover was coming back tonight. So he waits patiently in the tavern, a ear out and ready, waiting for murmurs of The Inquisitor’s return. And when he does hear, he happily shoots up from his chair and makes his way to the gate, happy to greet his lover.

Bull was only slightly worried to be away from his lover, he knew they could handle their mission without him, but still, who knows what could happen? But the news that The Inquisitor was coming back? That was enough to settle his nerves. But seeing… and feeling his lover in his arms? That is what truly relaxes him.

Josephine Montilyet: Josephine is the only one who is asleep, she was corralled to his bedroom by Leliana, who told Josephine that she would wake her up when The Inquisitor returned. True to her word, Leliana gently shook awake a sleepy Josephine who, wrapped in a robe, quickly made her way to the empty Great Hall. She situated herself onto Vivienne’s balcony. She happily watched her lover pass the gates a promptly made their way to her, greeting her with a gentle kiss, which Leliana thankfully turned away from. Afterwards she’s happy to lead her lover to bed, as the second the pair’s heads hit the pillow, the pass effortlessly into a dreamless sleep.

Sera: Sera’s mindlessly making arrows, her door is locked, as she grew tired of Cole trying to make his way into the room to encourage Sera to talk about her anxieties surrounding her Inky leaving without her. She doesn’t even know her lover has returned until she hears the door jiggle a bit before her lover’s voice calls, “Sera, I saw the light was on, are you awake?”

This is when Sera happily throws the door open and grabs her Inky and drags them inside her room, into her arms. The two were eventually found the next morning by a messenger, who reported The Inquisitor and Sera were fast asleep in a pile of various blankets and pillows.

Solas: Solas isn’t sleeping much either, somehow he can’t take his mind off of his vhenan. He completely understand why his lover would take another person on their adventure, potentially a different mage than him. But he worries when they’re away! And there’s not much to do in Skyhold when The Inquisitor is gone. Most servants and nobles steer clear from him. He busies himself painting the various frescos in the atrium. He’s just taken a break and decided to walk along the battlements, and that’s of course, when he sees his beloved. He’s happy to walk down the stairs of the battlements and meet his lover at the gate, awaiting them with open arms. He happily leads them away, whether to their bed in their room, where Solas will leave them to rest. Or if they prefer, they can spend a bit of time in the atrium alone, Solas would be happy to hear the stories of his vhenan’s journey. 

Varric Tethras: Varric is rotating between the tavern and The Great Hall. Ever since he first got the letter from his lover, happily informing him of their return, he’s only been more nervous. Like Cassandra, he fears the image of a truly tragic hero, beaten down on the way back to the arms of their lover. 

He thinks he’s been writing too much tragedy when he firsts gets that mental image

Nevertheless, he pushes through the night.

Eventually, he’s sitting at his usual spot near the fire, unhappily grumbling to himself, sounding like a real dwarf. His mind is racing, and he can’t seem to get the thoughts to stop. So, for one last time that evening, he walks out of the hall, preparing to return to the tavern for a drink and a song from Maryden. That’s when he sees his beloved standing by the gate, quietly talking with a solider who leads their horse away. They’ve returned and they’re safe, that’s all he needed to know.

When The Inquisitor finally catches a glimpse of their lover, all they see is a bright grin spread across his face.

Varric is happy to go along with whatever The Inquisitor wants, bed, a drink, a tale by the fire, he’s just relieved they’ve returned.

Vivienne: Vivienne lies to herself. The day that she hears The Inquisitor will be returning that evening, she nods and nonchalantly walks away. Yet she finds herself constantly checking the gate everytime there is movement in that direction. She has no idea why, however. Her friend, whom she doesn’t really call friend, is taking an awful long amount of time to just get back to Skyhold. 

She justifies her musings on The Inquisitor’s safety as rationally as she can. If The Inquisitor dies, Thedas will be lost. If The Inquisitor dies, her position in court may affected. If The Inquisitor dies, she will be sad-

That is what gives her pause. She straightens her back, hands quickly going to her face as if to smooth out her frown that was previously there, and then she turns on her heel and returns to her sofa. She attempts to swallow down her fear the entire day, but as the night swiftly covers Skyhold, she finds herself unable to sleep. The moons is high in the sky when she emerges from her room, robe tightly wrapped around her. She is sure not a single soul will see her in such a… vulnerable state. She quickly makes her way to the balcony again, and stays there for what feels like an entire age. But just as she gets ready to sigh and return to a sleepless night in her bed, she hears a disturbance coming from the gate. That is where she sees The Inquisitor, alive and perhaps wrapped in the arms of lover. And with a sigh of… relief? She quietly returns to her chambers. Never speaking of this again.

[writingdesk-ravings]

Big Don Saves The Day

→ Summary: An evil king wages a war on Big Don's kingdom and he is it's last hope. [Prompt courtesy of my creative writing club]

→ Word Count: 263

→ A.N: Big Don is a frog for much needed context.

→ Genre: Fantasy, Comedy

→ Warnings:

The sky was stained red with smoke and the ground was covered in charred wood.

In the centre of the burnt forest lay a sacred tree, burnt but still standing, unlike many of the others.

An evil King had laid waste to the forest, driving the animals to seek shelter in the village - nearly destroying it in the process. But the kingdoms forces held strong, refusing to lose the many battles fought.

Big Don hopped through the remains of the forest, a buret containing a glowing purple liquid was tied tightly around him. He was searching for the sacred tree and was unsuccessful. It would have been easier to find had he not been roughly 10cm tall.

Luckily, the large tree was in the very centre of the forest. As he approached, he saw an old woman. Her teeth were sharp and her ears were big.

“What are you doing by my tree?” The ‘old woman’ asked.

“It’s not your tree.” Big Don responded, hopping closer.

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it-” Before Big Don could finish his sentence, a clawed hand shot out and stole the potion on his back. Big Don let out a saddened cry while the Wolf merely laughed away.

Suddenly, the Wolf’s paw stepped on the fabric on the dress, causing him to trip.

The potion flew out of his hands and shattered on the ground, right by the roots of the sacred tree.

All around Big Don, grass and trees began to grow. Peace had been restored to the kingdom once more.

[thehighladywrites]

— “ me? jealous? of course I am…”

☀︎- pairing: Professor Eris x reader, part 2

☀︎- summary: Your secret relationship with Eris is going excellent, until Professor Jensen steps in and tries to flirt with him. Of course, you go ahead and flirt with your classmate as revenge. What do you do when you’re then caught by the same professor as youre bent over Eris’s desk, getting railed?

☀︎- warnings: smut, jealousy on both sides, getting caught, reader being called whore, public sex, PROTECTIVE READER, professor Rhysand is mentioned👀, Feyre being an amazing friend that helps reader scheme, blackmail, Eris realizing he is in love with reader, fluff, taboo relationships, both are obviously old enough.

☀︎- amara’s note: I loved writing this, reader is literally so hot in this omg, also this isn’t my best work but i really liked it anyways!! if u see any typos, your eyes are deceiving you🤷🏽‍♀️

Part 1

Hmm…

Black miniskirt with a white top or the beige pants with a knit sweater?

Surrounded by clothes, scattered across your dorm, you found yourself stuck between two outfit choices. Both looked good, but as you considered where you'd be wearing them, a mischievous smile crossed your face. Opting for an even shorter skirt, you couldn't help but anticipate the classes ahead.

After the confrontation with Professor Eris, you began meeting in secret, kissing between classes, fucking in locked closets, having lowkey meetings at his house. You exchanged numbers and found yourselves frequently texting too.

Well, sext is more like it.

The exchange of messages, if discovered, held the potential to lead to catastrophic consequences. The risk heightened the thrill and danger of the secret relationship, creating a clandestine affair between you.

There had been nudes and videos, audios and links. There had been some blush inducing texting, his words always sparking something in you. Eris was a true charmer, skillfully making you feel exactly what he wrote with a magnetic touch in his messages.

Dressing swiftly and slipping on your shoes, you and Feyre head to class. The only class you shared alone with him was Advanced Literature, but you also had Philosophy together, with Feyre joining in as well.

“You're glowing, Y/N. Any particular reason?” you heard the playful tone in her voice, suspecting that she must have some inkling about someone special in your life.

Shit, you had to be more careful. Feyre was vicious when it came to solving things, and she was one of the most intelligent people you knew. If you told her about Eris, you knew she'd keep it a secret, especially since she always raved about Professor Rhysand in International Relations. She might be a little weirded out, but she wouldn't judge.

“Okay, fine, I'm seeing someone, but you can't tell anyone, promise me. He's very, um, shy and he doesn't like to be around people. Maybe I'll introduce you guys to him sometime in the future, but it's still so new,” you confessed with a half truth, hoping Feyre didn’t see through your bullshit.

Feyre looked at you curiously from the side of her eye and nodded, promising that she'd never tell anyone.

“Is he at least good to you? I mean, he must be. I've never seen you like this before. You're happier than ever. Just please tell me it's not Ilias. He doesn't deserve you, and he never will,” she expressed, concern and sincerity in her voice as she grabbed your hand.

Squeezing her hand back, you assured her that it was over between you and your ex for good this time.

“I promise, Fey. It's over with him. I actually can't believe I went back to him so many times. I literally saw him yesterday in the cafeteria, and I nearly threw up; he was icking me out. Let’s just say that the guy I'm seeing is a bit older, he's really hot, and he makes me feel super good, if you know what I mean.”

You wiggled your brows, and Feyre threw her head back, laughing at your suggestiveness. You kept holding each other's hands until you got to class, finding comfort in your friend.

——

You insisted on sitting at the front, ensuring a clear view of your little secret. The desks were the perfect height, and when he sat at his own desk, he'd have an unobstructed view of your skirt. Just the thought pulled a sly smile from your lips.

The big doors opened up with a thud, and his steps resonated throughout the entire lecture hall. You looked at him and immediately had to look away before a blush crept up on your face. Eris was wearing black, sleek slacks that hugged his thighs and a crisp white shirt, showing his bulging arms. His shoulders looked so fucking massive,he looked so good it nearly made you drool.

He sneaked a glance in your direction before his eyes dropped to your skirt. He huffed a small, subtle smile and looked away.

———

Every time your eyes met, your stomach turned molten, and your thighs clenched. One look from him, and you'd honestly do anything he wanted. Throughout the entire class, you simply scribbled, pretending to hear a word he said. It felt like your whole body vibrated everytime he asked you a question, finding reasons to keep eye contact without anyone raising any alarms.

However, your little dreamy bubble was burst when another professor came in, her heels clicking against the floor in an uneven manner.

Your stomach sank as she got closer and closer to Eris. Your pen eventually snapped from the force of your grip when she put her grubby little fingers all over his arm, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she smiled and pressed her boobs against him.

But what really pissed you off was that he smiled at her.

It felt like someone was sitting on your chest, making your teeth clench. You were seething inside, angry that someone dared to touch him like this. Even though you had been sneaking around for just over two months, you had grown a bit possessive over him and really didn’t like it when other people got so close.

A pout crept onto your face as you looked around, noticing that no one paid much attention to them. Your fellow classmates took the opportunity to chat, oblivious to the storm brewing within you.

Feyre couldn't help but notice the visible change in your demeanor as your eyes burred into Eris.

The pout on your face, the tension in your shoulders – it all screamed discomfort. With a keen eye, she observed the unwarranted familiarity of the other woman's touch on Eris's arm.

Feyre raised an eyebrow and nudged you gently with an amused smile.

“What's going on, Y/N? You look like you're ready to kill someone.”

Your eyes flickered between Feyre and the scene with Eris, frustration evident in your expression. “That professor is all over him, Fey. It's making my blood boil. I mean, we’re in the middle of class, how unprofessional and disgusting to be flirting with him. And who knows, maybe he has a girl or a wife or something. She shouldn’t just do that.”

Having had enough of the scene in front of you, you stood up abruptly, grabbing your bag with frustration evident in your movements. As you left the classroom, you didn’t spare Eris a single look as you felt his eyes burning into yhe back of your head. Glancing back at Feyre, you cocked your head toward the door, silently asking if she was coming. She swiftly gathered her things, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and skipped over to join you in exiting the classroom.

Feyre smirked knowingly before whispering, “So, you fucking the professor or what?”

Your cheeks heated up, and you stammered, “Well, it's new, and I didn't want to say anything yet, but yeah. And before you ask, no it’s not for the grade. I really like him and he likes me back. We just have to keep it under wraps at school but we’re not using each other. And how the hell did you know, am I really that obvious?”

Feyre chuckled. “Baby, it's written all over your face. Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. Now, how are we going to handle this?”

Together, you and Feyre plotted a subtle yet effective way to make him jealous. Little did you know, your friend was excited to have some drama to navigate, especially involving a professor.

———

Your phone vibrated for the millionth time in the past days. Eris had been persistent, trying to reach out through calls and texts, but you'd been deliberately ignoring him all week. Regret gnawed at you, and anger surged as you recalled how he allowed that girl to touch him so publicly. Hurt and frustration clouded your thoughts, envisioning what could have happened if they were alone.

A sense of unease crept in, wondering if he grew tired of the secrecy and sought someone more mature and available—someone who wouldn't risk landing him in legal trouble. The uncertainty lingered, leaving you with a mixture of emotions.

Maybe you were a bit dramatic for completely ignoring him, but who cares?

You swallowed hard and got dressed, opting for the same skirt you had on the last time. Today, you had a plan—a little revenge against Eris. Your strategy involved flirting with a classmate, and you knew just the person: Ilias's best friend, Alex, who always used to check you out when you were dating Ilias. It seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Entering the hall, you slumped down next to him, subtly rearranging your hair and adjusting your bra, making yourself look absolutely irresistible. The game was on, and you were ready to see how Eris would react to a taste of his own medicine.

He was already there, eyes tracking and narrowing when you slumped down next to Alex.

“Hi Alex, how are you doing?” you asked, tilting your body so that he’d have a nice view of your pushed up tits.

His face turned red and he gave you a shy smile.

“Hey, y/n. I’m good, a bit surprised you’re talking to me.”

Yeah, you were really fucking surprised too.

You sighed dramatically. “ Ugh, I totally understand. I mean, I really wanted to befriend you back then, but you know how Ilias is. Always so possessive. Guess he was really threatened by you. He always thought I'd leave him for you, and if I'm honest, I probably would've. You're really cute.”

Your words hung in the air, leaving a calculated impression as you watched his reaction, wondering how this little act would play into your plan.

His eyes widened in surprise, and a subtle grin formed on his face. “Ilias always had a way of complicating things, huh? Well, I'm flattered, hot stuff. I hope you're doing okay now.”

You leaned in, lowering your voice as you let your breast spill out slightly, knowing that Eris was watching your every move.

“Oh, I'm doing much better now. Free from all that drama. Maybe we should grab a coffee sometime and catch up. You know, properly.”

He chuckled, a hint of mischief in his expression. “Sure, sounds like a plan. I'd love to hear more about your new freedom.”

You blew him a kiss before you left him with a seductive smile, the plan unfolded just as you'd hoped. Now, you anticipated Eris's reaction, eager to see how he'd handle the tables turning.

———

Eris was visibly fuming, shooting Alex murderous glares. Throughout the entire lecture, he directed almost every question to him, knowing damn well that he wouldn't be able to answer them.

“That's the fourth question you've gotten wrong, Mr. Halsted. Are you sure this is the right class for you? Regular Lit with Professor Lunden is on Wednesdays; maybe you've gotten them mixed up,” Eris remarked, his tone laced with thinly veiled hostility. The tension in the room escalated as your revenge plan unfolded.

A small pang of guilt tugged at you as you watched Eris target Alex with relentless questioning. However, any sympathy you might have felt was swiftly replaced by the memory of Alex covering up your ex's cheating. In that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to feel sorry for him, and a sense of satisfaction lingered as the tables turned in your little revenge plot.

As the class finished, Eris dismissed everyone except for you. The lingering tension in the room was palpable as your fellow classmates exited, leaving you alone with Eris. The air crackled with anticipation, and you braced yourself for whatever confrontation was about to unfold.

“I've been trying to reach you for days. Why haven't you been answering me?” Eris questioned, frustration evident in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You did? Must've missed it. And besides, aren't you too busy with that professor? What the hell do you need me for?” Your tone held a mix of nonchalance and defiance, ready to confront whatever explanation he might offer.

“If you're talking about Professor Jensen, then you have it all wrong. I don't have anything going on with her. Unless you’ve forgotten, I'm yours. And you're mine, so just what the hell are you doing asking Alex out for coffee?” Eris's words were a mixture of frustration and confusion as he sought an explanation from you. The tension in the air hung thick, awaiting your response.

Oh. Fuck.

A realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You had let jealousy take over, assuming the worst about Eris without even giving him a chance to explain. Your fear of being played again had clouded your judgment, and now you found yourself in a mess of your own making.

“Really? I thought you were sleeping with her or something. I'm so sorry for not letting you explain. I have some trust issues I need to work on. But why was she so close?” Your admission carried a mixture of relief and remorse as you acknowledged your mistake.

Eris eyes softened as he stepped closer, bringing you into a hug while he stroke your hair lovingly.

“She was close because wants me to go on a date with her. I've let her know I'm unavailable several times, but she doesn't seem to understand. Professor Jensen is married as well, and if I told the dean, he'd tell her husband since they're good friends. The only reason she hasn't tried anything further than to touch me is because I keep threatening her to tell the dean,” Eris explained, his words carrying a mixture of frustration and determination. It was clear he had been dealing with an unwelcome situation, trying to maintain boundaries despite the persistence of Professor Jensen.

Your jaw clenched at the thought of her going after him despite his boundaries. You wrapped your arms around him, silently promising to take care of her.

No one would be making him uncomfortable ever again with you around.

A brilliant idea sparked in your mind. You had overheard that Professor Jensen was coming here between classes, presenting the perfect opportunity to assert your claim on Eris and make it clear who he truly belonged to. Hoping she'd understand and leave your man the fuck alone, you started mentally preparing yourself.

“Let me show you how sorry I am, Er,” you whispered, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him briefly before pulling away. You took charge, grabbing his hand and leading him back to his chair by the desk as you made him sit down in front of you.

Standing between his thighs, you leaned forward, placing kisses on his lips, cheek, jaw, and neck. Your lips traveling over his hot skin. You had noticed how incredibly warm Eris was, it was like his skin was like a furnace.

As you contemplated your next move, the realization of your plan sank in.

You were about to fuck your professor, infront of another professor in an unlocked lecture room.

Anyone could walked in.

Suppose you just had to work quickly then.

Your eyes were on his as you bent forward, hooked your finger around your panties and slid them down your legs. You slowly stripped your shirt off, leaving you naked except for your thigh-high stockings, mini skirt, and bra.

A bit slutty for class, you’ll admit.

But whatever you looked good.

Eris's gaze dropped to your body, his hands forming a circle, signaling for you to spin around and show yourself. Giggling, you spun as you showed him your body, lifting your skirt up a bit before getting closer and plopping down in his lap. Eris’s hands automatically came around your waist, holding you in place as you unbuckled his belt, pulling out his cock.

“You’re so big, Eris. Please can I ride you?”

“What a nasty girl. Sitting in her professors lap, begging for cock. You know what were doing is wrong, yet you’re here, dripping wet, grinding all over me.” His teasing tone made your nipples tighten and stiffen, making you whimper in pleasure.

Before you could respond he lifts you up, flipping you around as he bends you over his desk. You gasp, letting out a noise of surprise at the sudden change. His presence warmed your nude back as he carefully slid into you, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as you let out a moan.

He’s so fucking big and every drag against your sensitive walls made you lose your mind. You’d never been fucked this good, ever.

“ Is this what you wanted? Getting fucked in the middle of class? The doors aren’t even locked, sweetheart, anyone could walk in and see how much of a slut you are,” he gritted out between thrusts.

And as if the universe was working with you, the doors opened and professor Jensen walked in.

She looked horrified and let out a yelp.

“What is going on here?” she yelled at you, stepping closer.

You just smirked around her, fucking yourself back at Eris who had completely stopped.

“What does it look like professor? I’m getting fucked by my man.” you emphasized the last part, staring into her eyes as your hands possessivly grabbed his arms on either side of you as you stood straighter.

She scoffed, looking smug as she approached you. “You disgusting whore, you probably did this for a grade. Poor Eris got played by someone whose only interest is a boost in their academic career. Just wait until I tell the Dean.”

You felt Eris tense at her disgusting words towards you, but before he could snap at her, you started laughing.

“Poor Eris knows I’ve been a straight-A student since his father was teaching the course. Poor Eris fucks me because he wants to. And no, you won’t go to the Dean.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, smirking.

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

It was your turn to smile as you played your trump card.

“Because the second you step out of this lecture hall, I’ll send your husband the videos of you flirting with what’s mine. Yeah, I heard your husband pays for your lavish little lifestyle, and that he’s super big on monogamy, something you’re not apparently. So, you won’t tell anyone about us unless you’re ready to lose your lifestyle.”

Professor Jensen's expression shifted from smug to shocked as your words hit her. She stammered, clearly caught off guard by your unexpected revelation.

“You can't... you don't have any proof!” she protested weakly.

You raised an eyebrow, a sly grin playing on your lips. “Oh, don't I? You see, I've got quite the collection of evidence, not just a video. Texts, emails, photos—enough to make your husband divorce your old ass in a heartbeat.”

Eris watched the scene unfold, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face.

“Now,” you continued, “we can all go on with our lives. You won't bother us, and I won't ruin yours. Agreed?”

She hesitated for a moment before reluctantly nodding, defeated by the leverage you held. You smirked, satisfied with the turn of events.

“Oh, and if I hear a whisper of you pursuing Eris ever again, your excuses won't matter—I'll make sure to ruin your life.”

As she hurriedly left the lecture hall, Eris turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“My, look who has got a knack for theatrics. You don’t actually have any evidence do you, love?”

You smile at him, shaking your head and gasp delighted as he continues fucking you.

“N-no, it was just a bit of intimidation, oh f-fuck, h-harder please.”

Warmth spread through your body as he kissed your neck and check, whispering praises and thanks.

“Thank you, sweet one, you’re such a perfect girl. So good for me.”

He kept pounding harder and harder, pulling you in by your neck as you were held flush against his chest, hands lightly squeezing your throat as your eyes crossed at the lightheadedness.

His dirty words, whispered in your ears made you tighten around him impossibly, and it sure as fuck didn’t help when he angled his hips, hitting that spot that made you cum with just a few strokes as he rubbed your clit, sucking on your neck.

It was all too much and you were starting to get overstimulated, but you still wanted him to cum so you grabbed his fingers and sucked on them as they hit the back of your throat nearly making you gag.

Finally you felt a warmth filling you up as he slowed down, groaning as his hands tightened around your throat.

You both sank into the chair, catching your breath. The air was thick with lingering desire, and a serene haze enveloped your mind, leaving only the soft hum of satisfaction. Eris knew you had reached that fuzzy state where you wanted to be cared for, not being able to make any decisions about anything as you floated in your mind. Glancing at the clock he realized that this classroom would be filled with 200 students in about 10 minutes so he reluctantly pulled out and began dressing you both.

“I’m canceling my last class, sweetheart. Let's head to my place, order some food, and just relax,” he whispered, sealing his words with a kiss. Even if the details blurred in your mind, you held onto him, your trust unwavering.

Eris faced an unexpected challenge; your legs gave out, complicating the journey to the secret alleyway where he usually picked you up.

With gentle care, Eris scooped you up bridal style, hoping the alley would be empty today. Skillfully using back entrances and listening for any signs of intrusion, he made his way to his car. As he approached, he checked for any onlookers before settling you gently in the front seat, which he had reclined for your comfort, its tinted windows offering privacy.

Arriving home, Eris couldn't help but steal glances at you as you peacefully slept in the passenger seat. He marveled at your beauty, cherishing the simple joy of having you close.

You stirred, adjusting to find a more comfortable position. Eris gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, captivated by your peaceful beauty.

“Mm, thanks for taking care of me, baby. I love you.”

Hearing those unexpected words, Eris froze. He had known it all along, the feelings growing within him. Yet, he wondered if you were merely tired, your words slipping out without realizing what you were saying.

In the warmth of the moment, his heart fluttering and butterflies dancing in his stomach, he lifted you up, carrying you into his bedroom. There he laid next to you , nerves nearly making him want to throw up as he whispered back the words he had never heard or spoken before,

“I love you too.”

Upon hearing those words, you pulled him closer, resting your head on his chest and placing gentle kisses where his heart beat. Intertwined, you both repeated those three words, reassuring each other that this love would endure forever.

Eris had no doubt in mind, you loved him as he loved you. It was a gentle reminder for someone who hadn’t experienced love before.

[toomuchracket]

all i want for christmas (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

back from the dead (a depressive episode) with a fluffy pre-dating fic that's honestly longer than it needs to be. whatever. it's christmas. this fic is also part of christmas75/twelve days of christmas, organised and curated by my lovely friend @abiiors. hope you all enjoy <3

wednesday, 3:34am

as soon as the “email sent” pop-up appears, you feebly close your laptop and lay your head on the desk, ready to finally give in to the sleep that's been edging ever closer to your eyelids for the past hour. but before you get the chance, your phone buzzes with an incoming notification, the vibrations rattling through the wood of the desk and into your skull.

swearing, your voice scratchy with underuse, you open one eye and tilt the screen towards you - the name it bears above the unread text makes you shoot back up to a sitting position, and knocks all traces of grumpiness and tiredness from your brain and body.

matty.

pointedly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you see he's opened his message with hi, darling, you continue reading: hope you're alright, and that the new book isn't kicking your arse too much. saw a group of kids in barnes & noble raving about your last one earlier. would've joined them if i wasn't in a hurry, to be honest. fucking brilliant. anyway, i know it's late, but i had to text you before i forgot. can you give me a call when you get this, darling? flying home early tomorrow so i'll be up from about… 8am your time? i've got a favour to ask you. nothing crazy, though, and nothing urgent. but yeah, just phone me when you can. thanks, darling. miss you, talk to you soon. bye! X

just as you're reeling from the three darlings and the kiss and the miss you, another text from your best friend comes in, accompanied by a photo: also look at who you were next to on this display. i got so excited. my three favourites!

you laugh out loud, a combination of shock at the fact your collection is between slouching towards bethlehem and consider the lobster and adoration at matty's beaming face next to it all. fuck, he's cute.

so cute. enough for you to forget that it’s 3 o'clock in the morning, and happily pick up your phone and dial his number - you've spent so much time poring over your message threads that you know it off by heart - as if it was mid-afternoon. you kick your legs back and forth as the call connects, smiling to yourself at the thought of hearing his voice for the first time in over a month.

luckily, you don't have long to wait; your heart flutters as he picks up on the second ring, voice thick in the way it only goes when he's smoking. “you know, you didn't have to call me right away, darling. thought you'd have been asleep. but hiya!”

“hi, matty,” you smile. “and come on, it's deadline week, of course my sleep schedule is fucked. questioning why i'm not asleep, christ, thought you knew me better than that.”

he takes your teasing in good faith. “i do, darling, i do know you,” matty's voice is soft, his tone as tender as you've ever heard it. it's driving you batshit insane. “but you know me. i just want to make sure you're not stressing yourself out about your work too much. rather have my best friend's wellbeing intact than another book, even though your writing is my favourite. speaking of, that display! i'm recreating it at home. genuinely. s'amazing.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “i can't even comprehend that display right now, m'too tired. but i’ll text you my thoughts once they make sense. and i'm alright, matty, honest. please don't worry about me, lovely.”

“that'll never happen, and you know it.”

“god, you're obstinate. but thanks. i appreciate the care.”

“even when you're insulting me, you're so eloquent. you've got a gift,” matty laughs down the phone. “how's deadline week going, anyway?”

“it's done. just sent the final draft away for edits. s'why i'm still up, actually.”

“really? congrats, darling!” the genuine happiness in his tone makes your heart hurt. “god, i wish i was home now, so we could go out and celebrate.”

“me too. but we'll see each other this weekend for early christmas dinner, yeah?”

“that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually. you know those roast potatoes you made last year?”

“you mean the ones you and alexa fought over the last spoonful of?” you laugh, remembering the two of them racing to the tiny kitchen in your flat to try and nab them.

“m'still fucking fuming that she got them. bitch,” matty grumbles, then giggles. “nah, she's like my sister, i love her. but yeah, those potatoes. can i have the recipe for them, please?”

you suck air in through your teeth. “well… no. that’s a family secret, lovely. m'sorry.”

“oh,” matty sounds so genuinely deflated that you could cry - you seldom see him upset, but the thought of his pretty face all sad makes you feel incredibly guilty. “that's alright, darling, i understand. my nana was the same with her soup recipes. you'd have to marry me if you wanted them.”

you hum out a laugh, brain suddenly scrambled at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him. god. get a grip! 

scrunching your eyes closed and blinking them open again - a tried and tested way to stop yourself going off on tangents - an idea pops into your head, so obvious that you’re not sure why you haven't suggested it already. “well, in lieu of us getting hitched within the next week,” you smile, enjoying the way matty laughs softly at the other end of the line. “i could come over early to yours and make the potatoes for you, if you'd like?”

“i quite like the sound of the first option, to be honest…”

what the fuck?! you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp. or a scream. perhaps even a moan.

“...but i'm more than happy with the second one. thank you, darling,” matty's smile is as audible as his relief. “you're a lifesaver and a legend. come over whenever on sunday, yeah? wake me up if you have to. actually, no, i'll pick you up. s'the least i could do to thank you. and it means we get to spend even more time together.”

“that sounds nice,” you all but sigh into your phone. “i'm excited to see everyone.”

mostly you, though.

“as am i, darling,” matty yawns. it's the cutest sound you've ever heard. for fuck's sake. “m'not bored talking to you, honest, just tired. this is actually the most fun i've had in weeks, this phone call.”

you want to assume he's lying out of politeness, but something in your brain tells you he's being sincere; it's not like you can say anything to dispute him, either, given it's also the most fun you've had in weeks. “matty, you’re in new york. at christmas time.”

“yeah, alone! s'boring. macaulay culkin made it seem a lot more fun when i was a kid,” matty snorts. “plus, i saw you the last time i was here. any trip you're not on is just automatically a bad one.”

christ, what is with him today? “flatterer,” you smirk, before grimacing and continuing to talk. “but i assume you've not been… totally alone, the whole time? i don't like the thought of that being the case.”

you hope to god he's too tired to pick up on your actual meaning; the sight of him with another girl isn’t unfamiliar to you, but that isn’t to say you don't mind it. quite the opposite, in fact.

thank christ, he misses it. “no, i’ve been good. slept by myself every night,” he laughs.

you giggle, relieved. “really? wow.”

“why are you surprised at that?”

“you're you, matty.”

“yeah, well, i'm going through a metamorphosis-”

“kafkaesque of you.”

“knew that one was coming as soon as i said it,” matty sighs. “but in all seriousness, in the past couple of months, i've just… fully realised what i want in life, you know? and it's not what i used to want, or get up to.”

interesting. “well, that's good. m'happy for you, lovely.”

“yeah, thanks. and what about you, miss? you, um, bringing anyone to christmas dinner?”

you snort. “obvs not.”

matty hums. “why'd you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like,” he pauses, trying to find the words. you can just picture the shape of his eyebrows as he does. “derisively. as if it's a silly question.”

“because it is a silly question, matty.”

“is it?”

“yeah,” you giggle. “i wouldn't even have time for a one night stand, let alone a relationship. not that there's anyone particularly interested, right now, anyway.”

“oh, there is,” comes the reply. “there really is.”

“if you say so.”

“believe me, darling, people want you. they're down bad. totally in love with you.”

“oh, you are so high right now, aren't you?”

“i mean, yeah. but i'm right!”

“uh huh,” you smirk. “i think you need your bed, matty.”

“pot, kettle.”

“alright, point taken,” you peel yourself off your chair, joints cracking slightly worryingly as you stand and pad across the flat to your room. “i'm going there now.”

matty sighs happily. “good. but send me a selfie as proof. accountability and all.”

it's an innocent enough ask, and not a totally unprecedented one - in the times where your self-neglect was at its worst, you would send matty and your other friends selfies so they could make sure you were alright - but the concept of sending matty a late-night pic from your bed does something quite odd to your brain and stomach.

still, you’ll oblige. but will he?

matty giggles when you ask him as much. “yeah, i'll send you one in return. i'm all about reciprocation, me.”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “good to know.”

he laughs, that stupid hyena cackle of his that might be your favourite sound in the world. “christ, i've missed you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you smile, switching your phone between hands as you get into bed and hissing quietly at how cold the sheets are. “alright, i'm in my bed. and you should be too.”

“you're right, i should be,” matty says. his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, the rasp of his cigarettes prominent; despite yourself, it goes straight between your legs. “soon, though, darling. promise.”

“good,” your voice comes out breathier than expected, a setting you haven't used in some time. “i think we both need it.”

“yeah, i think we do, too,” matty yawns again, following it up with a sigh. “right. i'm going to hang up now, darling. i really don't want to, but i feel like if i don't then one of us is gonna fall asleep before we can exchange pics. and i can't be having that, honestly. miss looking at you.”

you giggle, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs back and forth. jesus christ, what is this man doing to you? “don't get too excited, i look like shit.”

well, you've looked worse lately - you at least showered and clipped your hair up and put on a clean outfit today. but still, far less glamorous than matty's used to.

or not - “i've literally held your hair back while you yoshed in a plant pot, darling, i think you're alright.”

“and on that note, let's wrap it up,” you laugh, rolling back to lie down. “what time should i be ready for on sunday?”

“oh, um… half twelve? that should be enough time to get everything sorted.”

“half twelve it is,” you yawn. “ok. bedtime. have a safe flight, lovely. talk soon?”

“‘course. don't forget that selfie, by the way. eagerly awaiting it.”

“et toi. lots of love, see you soon.”

“back at you, darling. goodnight.”

the call ends. you close your eyes and, for the briefest of moments, let yourself dwell on the fact your best friend - who, let's be honest, you have a bit of a crush on - shamelessly flirted with you to the point of bordering on phone sex, and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he might feel the same way you do.

but it's matty. sweet, cheeky, affectionate matty, who'd find a way to flirt with a brick wall if he was bored enough. because that's what he is, really - bored, high, alone on a phone call with a girl late at night. it's just a natural thing for him to do in those circumstances. you're not special, you were just… there.

that notion stings more than you expected. but you persevere, opening your camera and fixing your glasses. he's your best friend, after all, and he asked you to do this to make sure you were alright. nothing more than that.

still, as you close your eyes and smile, you hold the phone with both hands so your boobs push ever so slightly more together. just in case. then you caption the pic as requested, and hit send.

matty’s reply buzzes in a few seconds later, eliciting a shocked giggle from your lips: fucking love it when you wear your glasses. a follow-up appears in another few seconds: if that's you looking like shit… you're defo the sexiest bit of shit i've ever seen.

fuck him for getting you flustered like this. honestly, fuck him.

and, oh, when he sends a selfie in return, shirtless in low light, hair in its natural state, one hand behind his head… don't you want to do just that?

you bite your lip as you compose your response: my condolences to the single girls in nyc who are missing out on you looking like that tonight.

matty: i know, poor them lol. but their loss is one specific single girl in london’s gain, though, yeah?

you: fuck yeah

matty: you crack me up

matty: miss you sm

matty: anyway, sweet dreams. see you in them, i hope

matty: but see you irl on sunday lol xx

you: miss you too, lovely. goodnight xx

***

sunday, 12:56pm

a mass of black fur rams into your legs as soon as you step through matty's front door. you laugh, dropping your bags and crouching to pet an over-excited mayhem, while matty grumbles behind you. “at least let her get in the house, mayhem, christ!”

“don't listen to him,” you coo at the dog, nuzzling into you quite adorably. “i'm just as happy to see you as you are to see me, baby. got a present for you and everything.”

“you did not buy the dog a christmas present,” matty groans, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders.

“of course i did. got you one as well.”

“thought we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?”

“well, i'm a dirty liar,” you brush down your dress and turn to face matty, smiling. “that, and i saw something when i was in glasgow that i couldn't resist getting you.”

matty's eyes widen near-imperceptibly as he takes in the dark red fabric clinging to you like a second skin, raking up and down your body almost too quickly for you to clock. 

almost. you bite back a smirk. got him!

much to your chagrin, though, he recovers quickly and turns the tables. “well, it's difficult to keep control when you see something… attractive,” he murmurs, gaze lifting to meet yours. “i like that dress, darling, you look gorgeous. and,” his tone and face brighten. “i actually got you a gift, too.”

the revelation is just as shocking as the way he looked at you is. “you did?”

“we're both dirty liars, it seems,” matty grins. he nods towards the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable in there, darling, and i'll go and get it. only be two minutes, promise, and then i'll help you find whatever you need, yeah?”

“you've not done a mad rearranging of your kitchen cupboards since the last time we all came over for dinner, have you?”

“nah.”

you wave nonchalantly. “then i'm good, i know where everything i need is.”

matty smiles down at you - there's an expression in his eyes that you can't quite name - and gently nudges you down the hall. his hand is light against your back, but it sends shockwaves through your nervous system regardless. “alright. give me a shout if you need anything, though, please.”

“i will, lovely,” you smile back just as sweetly. “want me to put some christmas music on? get into the festive spirit and all?”

“anything but band aid.”

you laugh, and matty joins in. “i was thinking more sinatra, anyway.”

“perfect.”

and that's exactly how he'd describe the scene in the kitchen he walks into thirty minutes later. the room is warm, made cosy by the oven that's been slow-cooking turkey for a little while now, soundtracked by frank crooning out have yourself a merry little christmas. mayhem snoozes in his bed by the massive window, which shows snow dusting over the garden like icing sugar on a cake, and then there's you. still keeping an eye on the potatoes bubbling on the hob, you sway gently to the music as you pour dried spices and seasonings into a bowl, your face as content as matty feels.

it breaks into a big smile when you see him in the doorway, white dress shirt hugging his chest quite deliciously. “oh! you got changed. i like it.”

“had to keep up with you, didn't i?” matty smiles, wandering into the room and laying a gift bag on the counter. he peers into the pan of potatoes. “thank you for doing this, by the way, darling. means a lot.”

he opens his arms, and you slot into them before they wrap around you tightly, resting your chin on matty's shoulder and smiling. “no one else i'd do it for.”

matty hums happily. “god, i've missed you. you're always a total peach to me. makes me feel good.”

“a peach? you've spent too much time stateside, matty,” you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. “thank god you're home for a bit. but thank you, lovely, i'll take the compliment.”

“for once, you'll take one,” matty teases. his face turns slightly more solemn. “yeah, m'glad to be home. it's a shame you won't be at any of the UK shows, though. i always like them more when you're there.”

“well, when hollywood calls, you have to answer,” you shrug, then smirk. “you just want me at the shows so i'll praise your narrative structuring again, don't you?”

matty's eyes close in bliss. “don’t tease, you literally barrelling towards me backstage screaming about midpoints and how proud of me you were is genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“oh, shush,” you roll your eyes, suddenly shy.

“i'm serious! it'd be like joan telling you she thought one of your sentences had perfect structure. a writing compliment from you is a gift, darling.”

“well… thank you. and speaking of gifts,” you - with great reluctance - pull away from matty, bending down to grab a wrapped box from your bag. “here. joyeux noël.”

your best friend takes the present from you, murmuring a “thank you” and smiling at the tag addressed to him. he holds it to his ear and shakes the box, eyebrows raising at the slight rattle.

sighing, you roll your eyes. “just open it, matty.”

his face lights up. “alright.”

after carefully peeling the tag from the box and placing it in his pocket, matty tears through the paper and lifts the lid off. he squints at the sides of the smaller plastic boxes inside, before realisation hits and his jaw drops. “this is…”

“cassette recordings of ten blue nile gigs throughout the eighties and nineties, in their entirety,” you finish, smiling. “thought you'd like them.”

“like them? darling, this is- i don't even know what to say, other than thank you,” matty looks at you, awed, and pulls you into another tight hug. “how the fuck did you manage to get them?”

“the guy in one of the record shops i went into in glasgow was selling them. they're his recordings,” you say, half into matty’s neck. “and he'd digitised them, so he didn't need the tapes anymore, and he wanted them to go to someone who'd genuinely use them. remembered you saying you'd bought a tape deck, and i know how much you love that band, so… i kinda had to buy them.”

matty turns his head and presses a kiss onto your temple; while you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in delight, he speaks again. “you really are one of the best people i know. christ, i'm so overwhelmed by how perfect that present is. i need a drink,” he pulls away and heads to the fridge. “d’you fancy some champagne, darling, before i give you your gift? you might need it, actually.”

“that's not ominous at all,” you quip, then nod. “pour me a glass while i sort the potatoes and get them in the oven, please.”

matty nods, pulling out a bottle of perrier and grabbing glasses to take over to the table, while you drain and pat-dry the potatoes. he hums along to the background music while he fiddles around with the foil covering the champagne cork; you smile, eyes flicking up periodically to look at his cutely confused face, then back down to the food you're currently buttering and seasoning. it's incredibly domestic, a cosy little christmas dinner tableau, so much so that it hurts your heart to think that life isn't always like this for you and matty. and mayhem, obvs, curled up so adorably in his bed that you have to resist awwwwing every time you look at him.

still, it's hard to be melancholy when matty's irritation at the bottle foil is so amusing. you giggle at his grumbling, turning around to look at him scowl once the potatoes are safely in the oven. “need a hand?”

“no thanks, darling, i'm- ok, yeah, please,” matty sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching. you pretend not to notice the way his shirt rides up and exposes his hip tattoo. “can't find the tab on the foil.”

“hmm, let me see,” you wander to the table and sit beside matty, moving your chair closer to him. well, to the bottle. “ah - that's because there isn't one.”

“well that's fucking stupid. how are you meant to open it?”

you smile, swiping your index nail across the foil; it slices clean through, and you're able to peel the covering off the cork. “like that. these aren't just for aesthetic purposes, you know.”

“that was actually quite hot. let me see them?” matty gently takes your hand in both of his own, admiring the abstract line pattern on your fingernails, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over the gel. “yeah, definitely hot. let me open the champagne from here though, darling, yeah? can't risk these pretty nails being damaged.”

you bite the inside of your cheek again; this time, to stop from giggling flirtily. “have at it, lovely.”

“i like it when you call me that,” matty smiles, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other, and slowly twisting. “makes me feel good.”

“well, you are lovely,” you smile back. “and opening that champagne quite effectively, i must say.”

“learnt from the best,” matty winks. “you're right, though, it's a lot less messy. although i don't mind that, sometimes. s'fun.”

“yeah, me too,” you smirk, glad to be sitting down and not having to worry about your legs caving in at matty and his words. “kinda fun getting it all over your hand, isn't it?”

matty's eyes widen again, and the cork breaks free with a loud pop; before either of you can cringe at or make light of it, though, mayhem jolts awake with a yelp at the sound, and quickly runs over to sit at your feet. 

you coo at him, reaching down to scratch his sweet head and reassure him (and berate his dad). “aww, mayhem. you scared the baby, matty! look at him, he's terrified! s'ok, sweetheart, i'll keep you safe. come on, you can have your christmas present to cheer you up.”

matty rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his face as he watches his dog eagerly follow you to your bag. “you know, mayhem, you're such a sap, honestly.”

“oi, don't talk about my friend like that,” you frown, face lighting up as you find what you're looking for in your bag. “aha! here you go, mayhem. merry christmas.”

the dog takes the guitar-shaped dog toy with relish, plodding back over to his bed and playing with it contentedly. matty leans to the side to look at mayhem's gift, bursting into laughter when he sees it. “fucking brilliant. that'll be his new favourite, by the way. but you're his favourite, so it checks out, i s'pose.”

“really?”

“oh, he loves you. he never gets so excited to see anyone else,” matty nods, pouring champagne and sliding a glass to you. “bet he'd enjoy seeing more of you. as would i, actually - i really like spending time with you, darling.”

you nod, touched. “so do i,” you raise a glass. “to seeing more of each other next year.”

matty clinks his glass off yours, repeating your words with a soft smile. you take a sip of your respective drinks, humming in satisfaction as the champagne hits your lips. you nod again as you swallow. “christ, that's good.”

“agreed. and now that we've had a drink,” matty puts his glass down, then leans back in his chair and reaches to grab your gift from the counter. he presents it to you with a grin. “merry christmas, darling. save the box til last, yeah?”

“ok. thank you,” you smile sheepishly, opening the bag and pulling out its contents: a notebook, with a pen tucked into the front cover, a book, and a thin, a4-size box. laying them on the table, you inspect each facet of the present in turn, starting with the notebook. “a parker pen? matty, this is beautiful.”

“that one's also kinda a congratulations gift for getting your manuscript in. there's a little message on the inside, too,” comes his reply. 

you flick your gaze up to find him blushing, and it makes you smile even wider. carefully, you lift open the black cover, and find matty's familiar scrawl on the inside: to my favourite writer… this is for the next one. lots of love, matty ♡. a little giggle leaves your lips, and you reach for your friend's hand to squeeze it. “you really are the loveliest, you know.”

“shhh, it's nothing,” matty softly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “the next bits are the good ones, really. m'excited to see you react to them.”

“better not keep you waiting, then,” you smile, reaching for the book; you let out a little cry of excitement when you read the title. “on beauty! i haven't read this since i was at uni, my god. thanks, matty, i can't believe you remembered me saying that! oh, this is amazing.”

“open it.”

your head shoots up. “what? why?”

matty smiles. “just do it, please.”

“alright,” you do as requested. when you see what’s on the title page, your jaw drops. “matthew…”

“oh, shit, the full name. am i in trouble?” matty quips, smirking as he takes another sip of champagne.

“no, no, just… you got zadie fucking smith to sign a book for me? with a personal message?” you all but sob, lip quivering, completely overcome. “she's telling me she loves my work? what the fuck?”

“well, she's got good taste.”

“matty,” you wail. “this is the best gift i've ever been given.”

matty giggles. “no it isn't.”

“i'm telling you, it really is.”

“nah,” matty gently tugs the book from your hands and replaces it with the box. “this might be, though. but you need to stop crying before you open it, though, darling. can i just…?”

tenderly, so tenderly, matty takes your face in his hands and uses his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears pooling on your lower lashline. at his touch alone, your breathing starts to regulate; the same can't be said for your heart or brain, which both go haywire at the intimacy of his actions, something not helped by him whispering reassuringly to you. “there you are, darling. you're alright.”

it's not a question, but you nod anyway. “thank you.”

“anytime,” matty lets go of your face and sits back; you miss him as soon as he lets go. “right. now you can open it.”

with a smile, you lift the lid from the box - it falters, though, as soon as you take in the words on the paper in front of you. “these are outlines.”

“yeah, they are. look closer, darling.”

you squint at the paper, a choked noise escaping your lips. “feel free… fuck off. zadie gave you her essay notes?!”

“she did. and told me to give them to you.”

“how?”

“well,” matty grins, shuffling in his seat. “i went to see her and nick while i was in new york, and i asked her to sign the book while i was there. when she found out it was for you… she insisted you have those. printed more off for me and everything. she thinks you're the shit, darling.”

“you're sure she didn't say i was shit?” you hiccup, sliding the box onto the table before your tears hit the paper and picking up your glass for a long drink.

“positive. she only had lovely things to say about you,” matty takes your glass and refills it, beaming at you. “so, yeah. bit of a weird present, i know, but i knew you'd appreciate it.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping your eyes and shuffling your chair next to matty's to hug him. “i really do. and i appreciate you even more. thank you, lovely, you're too good to me.”

“nah, you deserve the best, darling,” matty’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your hair, stroking it gently.

you wallow in the tender moment for a second, before pulling back to smile at him. “m'sorry for crying, christ.”

he shakes his head. “don't worry about it, s'cute. and you still look fit when you cry, so…”

“shut up,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

“really, you look perfect,” matty smiles, eyes soft. “m'glad you came over early today. not just because it means we get the good potatoes, but because we get to do this, have a bit of peace before everyone gets here. s'nice. really nice.”

you nod. “it is. thanks for having me. and for the gift.”

he kisses your hand. “anytime. thank you for my gift. and just for being you, i s'pose.”

“it's like you want me to keep crying.”

“well, like i said, you look fit,” matty grins. “but nah, i'll stop. let's have a nice time and get rid of this champagne before everyone else gets here, yeah?”

“sounds like a plan.”

so that's what you do - sit at matty's kitchen table, drinking champagne and watching mayhem playing with his new toy, talking and laughing with your best friend. outside, the snow falls faster and faster, blanketing the garden in pristine white, but it's falling nowhere near as quickly as you are for matty. when the front door goes, you’re actually welcome for the excuse to leave the table, the kitchen, the intense care in those beautiful eyes that threatens to shatter your sanity and perspective.

it's your newly engaged friends, laden with more champagne and christmas crackers. once you've exchanged pleasantries, your friend sends her fiancé into the kitchen with the bags so she can interrogate you. “now why are you here so early? you're a little bit unsteady on your feet… oh my god, did you and matty fuck?”

“no! christ! and keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss, looking back down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. “i came over early to help with dinner. and we opened champagne. that's it.”

her eyes narrow. “but you want to fuck him, don't you?”

you open your mouth to answer, but pause for a split-second too long; she cuts back in again. “oh, you do! well, you should.”

“i don't just want to fuck him, babe,” you sigh, leaning against the cold concrete wall. your brain is screaming at you to shut up, but you can't. “i… like him. in a more-than-platonic way. like in a deep way.”

“so… tell him that.”

you blanch. “today?”

“yes! it's christmas. we've all seen love actually - it's the perfect time!” she quietly claps, beaming. “and you won't see him again until my birthday dinner, so if the revelation goes tits up… you've got two months to get over it.”

“really filling me with confidence here.”

“sorry,” she kisses your cheek. “i just like the thought of the two of you being happy, that's all.”

“i know, it's just-”

“darling?” matty wanders down the hall to you, pulling your friend into a welcoming hug, then turning to face you. “sorry to interrupt, but your timer is going off.”

“oh, thanks, lovely,” you smile at him. “be in in a minute, yeah?”

“alright. looking forward to it,” with a wink, he's gone again.

your friend smiles at him, then turns to you. “he is looking forward to you returning to the same room as him. how interesting!”

“yeah, because it means we all get the roast potatoes i made. that's it.”

“oh, you made those again? amazing,” she nods appreciatively, then looks at you and tilts her head. “he could still just be looking forward to being in close proximity to you again, though. wonder if there's any mistletoe around.”

“shut up, please, i am literally begging.”

she laughs, tucking you under her arm and walking to the kitchen. “alright, i'll leave it be tonight. but i'm just saying - i think you have to seriously consider that matty might want you under his christmas tree this month just as much as you want him under yours.”

“and i think you have to seriously consider that you might be delusional.”

“well, we'll soon find out, i'm sure.”

[dark-frosted-heart]

The Fairytale Keeper’s Final Assessment (Epilogue) - Roger Barel

This is the epilogue to his first anniversary story that I keep forgetting to put out 😅 I did a short summary when the event was going but imo this epilogue is so important!!!

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

“Kate, I have heard of your hard work. As always, thank you. 

Therefore, I’m placing trust in you to assess one thing.

Whether Roger, a cursed one, is worthy of being in Crown.”

(That means she wants me to assess Roger, right?)

As I followed Her Majesty’s elegant script, I understood what she was asking of me.

Perhaps because I recently had my own assessment, she was giving me the same chance to do the same. 

(Both Her Majesty and Victor are fairly impartial)

(Alright! I’ll just have to write a lot of good things about Roger)

(When it comes to Roger, his skills as a doctor are what comes to mind)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Jude…that injury!

Jude: Quit your yappin’. Blood ain’t stoppin’ with all that racket.

Ellis: He’s alright, Kate. Getting stabbed’s a daily occurrence for Jude so he’s used to it. We’ll just have Roger sew him up like usual.

--

Kate: Liam…that injury!

Liam: Ah, this? Al and I were jumping across roofs while drunk and I slipped off.

Alfons: Don’t worry about it. This sort of thing is an everyday occurrence with the cat’s curse. Roger, can you hear me? Please treat him immediately!

~~ Flashback end ~~

(...Thinking back, it’s pretty absurd)

(If it weren’t for Roger, we’d have one or two dead by now)

They can only carry out their missions if they're alive, so having Roger around is really important.

It’s obvious that Roger’s a necessity to Crown.

I sat down in front of my typewriter and tried to write about Roger’s importance.

(Huh, what the…I’m feeling a little annoyed)

I ended up thinking about Roger’s wicked smile, how he’s always pushing me around, teasing me, and treating me like a dog.

And so, within my heart…a little evil sprouted in my mind.

(Maybe I’ll write something about Roger’s bullying for a bit)

I knew I was being petty, but I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance to get back at Roger.

I first typed out “about Roger’s bullying”. 

(Oh yeah, the other day…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Kate, got something for you. Here.

Kate: What’s this? A fluffy ball?

Roger: It’s a toy my corgi likes. Thought you’d like it too since you’re like him.

Kate: Wha…

Roger: He’ll happily wag his tail like an idiot when I throw it. If you want me to throw it for you, just let me know.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(Com-plete-ly messing with me)

(Ah, that’s right. That day too)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Roger…Roger? Are you asleep?

(It’s rare to see Roger napping)

(Ah, his glasses are crooked…Removing them should be fine, right?)

Roger: …Caught you.

Kate: Please let me go. You were pretending to be asleep, weren’t you?

Roger: yeah. Wanted to catch and give you a little hug. Ahhh, you’re so warm…You’re running hot.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(U-um…that was weird)

(I was going to write about Roger’s bullying, but then—)

Roger: Oh, what’s this about “Roger’s bullying”?

Kate: ……Roger. W-when did you…

Roger: I called out to you, but you were too focused to notice. So, this is a letter from Her Majesty? …She wants you to do a reverse assessment. And you were in the middle of ranting and raving on me being a bully.

Kate: Well…that…

I can’t give an excuse when he’s seen everything.

Afraid that I angered him, I nervously looked up at Roger. I didn’t expect to see a wicked smile on his face.

Roger: Just like experiments are needed for research, real-life experiences are needed for reports, right?

Roger pinned both my hands down on the desk with one hand.

It was like putting me in handcuffs.

Roger: I’ll bully you some more so you can tell Her Majesty. Come on, remember this. “He grabbed my arms and I couldn’t move.”

Kate: Roger…

Roger: “Then he raised my chin with his other hand—”

Our lips were so close that they almost touched. Amber eyes pierced into mine.

Roger: And after that, you can write “he kissed me roughly”.

(Roger’s angry…)

(No, I can’t write off as something as simple as that)

When I stared closer into those amber eyes, there was a hint of sadness.

(Ah)

I realized that I had misled Roger into thinking he wasn’t needed in Crown.

(That’s not true)

Kate: I-it’s true that I wanted to write about you being a bully, but… The only reason I could do that was because everyone knows that you’re someone Crown needs. Besides…um…I need you too.

Roger: Even though I bully you so much that you want to tell on me?

Kate: …Originally it was just some petty mischief. But halfway in, I couldn’t bring myself to write it. I didn’t want Her Majesty to find out about how I…don’t hate the bullying��

Roger: …O_O

Kate: I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Roger…

Roger’s lips cut off the rest of my words.

He stole a kiss.

Kate: Wha…?!

Roger: You like it when I bully you and your body ends up acting on its own.

Kate: I-I didn’t say that. I said that I “don’t hate” it.

Roger: Sure, sure. Just misheard you with my bad hearing.

(......Geez)

(But I’m glad I cleared up the misunderstanding. I’m glad he’s smiling)

Pulling myself together, I returned to my typewriter and heard Roger’s gravelly voice.

Roger: …I’m glad you think I’m needed.

Kate: …

That voice vibrated against my eardrums and wouldn’t leave my mind.

I couldn’t even look at Roger.

I think my report conveyed how special Roger’s become to me.

Roger poked my cheek while I looked down, feeling confused. 

[devilmademewriteit]

Gods & Monsters

pairing: Soldier Boy/afab!fem!reader

summary: delivering coffees to Vought’s crisis management team brings you face to face with Soldier Boy—who has a different job in mind for you.

warnings: pure, filthy smut (blowjob, fem penetration, slight predator/prey; slight orgasm denial) so 18+ only content; Soldier Boy b/c tbh he’s his own warning; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long hair (hair pulling); drug mention (coke in detail); title kink (sir); pet names (doll-face, sweetheart, doll); dubcon (coercion, imbalance of power); use of slut degradingly; choking; (light) slapping; spitting.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka bestie

word count: 3.3k

this is my first time writing for The Boys!! would love to hear feedback & requests are always allowed :)

—

Even before finding yourself at the mercy of a power-drunk supe, you’d had yourself a pretty fucked up day.

After spending your morning hunched over your desk at Vought trying, in vain, to piece together a script for the new upcoming Crimson Countess film (with a team of useless douchebags hooked on uppers) you had all but quit your job.

Then, of course, the afternoon came with its own set of troubles. Your supervisor had hurried over, wild-eyed and raving, to break the news of a PR scandal—you guessed one of the twins, it was always one of the twins—which called for all hands on deck; including yours, which were delegated to the indispensable task of retrieving coffees for the crisis management team upstairs. If you weren’t flat broke and more of a risk-taker, you’d never engage with anything supe-related ever again—but you were, and you weren’t, so you find yourself in the later hours of the evening delivering lattes to your higher ups on floors of the tower you’d never heard of before.

The elevator doors open and you come face to face with the poster-boy of the company. Your heart leaps as you recognize his face; it settles when you realize he’d never recognize yours. After all, you’d only met briefly once before: just last week, you’d finally spent time on set for one of Payback’s shoots. Assistant duties only, of course, but it had been thrilling to watch the supe and his team, nonetheless.

Needless to say, seeing him up close, now, is a completely different experience. No mask, no makeup—just his chiseled, gorgeous face and entitlement simmering in his green eyes.

“Good, you’re here. I was gonna go looking for you,” Soldier Boy says, unfazed by your paralyzing shock. Amused, he adds, “And you brought the coffee, too.”

You stand in the elevator, unmoving. Then, ever so slowly, you hand him the tray of full, steaming cups.

He laughs, wrinkles next to his eyes forming as he takes the tray. Your mistake seems obvious once the image of the company’s most expensive asset holding a tray of five cent coffees is on display before you.

He calls someone over from down the hall, and a wiry young man comes scampering over. “Take these to the assholes down the hall,” Soldier Boy orders. “And tell them not to fuckin bother me tonight.”

The young man nods fervently and speed-walks, tray in hand, back in the direction he’d rushed over from.

The elevator dings and the metal doors begin to close, but a large palm slaps them back in place. You watch as Soldier Boy peels his hand back, leaving indents in the steel.

“Where have they been hiding you?” He asks, leaning against the metal frame. His eyes flash with amusement as he scans your body up and down, making you wish that you’d worn a nicer skirt or ironed your shirt just a bit more carefully this morning.

You swallow, your throat suddenly tight. “I work in the creative department. Writing,” you say, determined to regain some composure.

“You the one that writes those fuckin’ anti-drug ads?” He asks, ever-so-nonchalantly.

“No,” you answer, trying not to meet his imposing stare head-on. ”I write the movies, the television scripts, that kinda thing.”

“Yeah, you don’t look like a complete prude,” he jokes. ”Though I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” the supe adds with a wink.

He looks at you expectantly, something unidentifiable in the way he takes you in.

You don’t respond.

“Really? Nothing? Thought you worked in the creative department,” he taunts.

You clear your throat. “I do, sir,” you respond, your voice faltering with fake confidence. “And I really should be getting back,” you quickly add, reaching for the button that would take you back down to your floor.

A massive hand blocks your own, and you look up at the supe, frustrated.

He whistles softly. “Whoo, ‘sir…’ I sure like hearing you say that.”

Adrenaline courses through your entire body as he takes a small, controlled step towards you. Your mind races, trying to come up with some sort of escape plan, but it goes blank the moment you glance at that pouty bottom lip or notice the rugged curve of his jaw.

“Well, today’s your lucky day, doll,” the stranger says, his voice suddenly low and quiet, “‘cause we need you up here.”

“For what?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Something about the glint in his eye makes you want to run down the hall as fast as possible—to get away from this madman. He reminds you of a wild animal; you sense something ferocious and tense coiled up inside, begging to come loose.

And yet, something about the grit in his voice and the shape of his shoulders makes you want to play his game, to close the distance between the two of you.

See where it takes you.

He smiles and steps into the elevator, easing his way behind you and placing his palm against the small of your back, urging you forward.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he grumbles into your ear. “You’ll love it.”

You look up at him, unsure of what to do and intimidated by his overwhelming presence, his demanding words. Like prey caught in a trap, every instinct screams at you to get away.

You don’t move.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, twisting a strand of your hair. There’s an edge to his voice you’d only ever heard between cuts, when the cameras weren’t rolling. “Wouldn’t want to upset an American hero, would you?”

You give in, allowing yourself to be guided out of the elevator and down the hall by his palm’s weight against your spine. He doesn’t even look at you; he only steers you forward into an enormous suite, lavishly decorated with all sorts of expensive fabrics, paintings, and furniture. It’s nicer than anything you’ve ever seen, yet Soldier Boy saunters in like it’s no more impressive than a dingy motel room.

The first thing you notice is a heap of white powder out in the open on a massive wooden table. The supe walks over to it and does a line through a rolled up twenty, jerking his head back and shaking his head.

“Want any?” He asks, turning his gaze back to you.

“No, thanks,” you respond, wary. “I like to be sober on the job,” you add, not wanting to sound judgemental.

He shrugs.

“What, exactly, did you want from me?” You ask, cringing at the naivety of the question. What he wants hangs thick in the room, it was heavy in his eyes from the moment you’d first met them.

He closes the distance between you and flashes a taunting smile.

“You don’t like coke? I got benzos, oxy, weed… really anything a girl could want.” He plays absentmindedly with the fabric of your skirt, his eyes drinking in every inch of your body.

“All I want is for you to tell me what you want.”

“You sure have a way with words, doll-face,” his right hand finds its way to the front of your throat, stroking the skin there, gently. Every part of your body responds to the touch and unwelcome arousal clouds your thoughts as you try to keep yourself together.

He ducks down, his lips lightly brushing skin of your ear.

“I want to watch you take my cock in every way you can, sweetheart.”

Your body responds before your mind can process his words; suddenly, you’re having trouble standing upright as heat spreads across your core.

“I know you’ll be so good for me,” he adds, fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“Can I say no?” You ask, cursing how small your voice sounds. Despite your efforts, you’re sure he can hear your reluctant desire dripping off your every word.

He looses a low chuckle. “‘Course you can,” a pause as he places his palm against your cheek, “but you shouldn’t,” he finishes, flatly. “Besides,” Soldier Boy continues, his voice husky and deep, “all I’m asking is for you to get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use.”

You don’t know what makes you do it. Perhaps it feels inevitable; after all, you happen to be alone, cornered by the most powerful man in the world. Or maybe, just maybe, some twisted part of you wants to be at the mercy of this man.

Almost as if in automatic response, you feel yourself sinking to the ground, holding his stare like a tether to reality—a lifeline. He smirks with satisfaction, and, celebrating his win, unhooks his buckle for you to pull the length of him out. Your eyes widen, astonished by the sheer size and girth of him. He notices, of course, and gives you a lazy grin.

Asshole.

Begrudgingly, you accept that you want him. Still, you struggle to admit to yourself that this desire is quickly becoming much more than that.

Some starved part of you is desperate to satisfy this stranger in any way you can.

“Take all of it,” he orders, nodding down towards you. You obey, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and feeling him push down to the back of your throat.

“That’s fucking right, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy groans as you slide down the length of his cock, over and over. “That’s what this mouth was made for.”

He tugs at your hair, taking a fistful of it and forcing your eyes up to meet his. He thrusts forwards, pushing deeper and deeper and deeper—you give him everything you have. His intensity only builds and you find yourself choking, spit gathering in the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth.

“Fuck yeah, doll,” he groans. “You fuckin’ love that.”

You melt into his encouraging gaze, your eyelids heavy, your panties soaked completely through.

You nod in agreement and he loosens his hold on your hair. You pull off of him, gasping for air, strings of saliva connecting the two of you in pure need.

“Don’t you stop,” the supe warns, using one hand to guide his cock back into your mouth, the other pushing at the back of your head.

You go slow, now, blinking the well-earned tears from your eyes, savouring the feel of him against your lips, your tongue, the roof of your mouth. You put both hands to work and watch him remove the top of his suit, near swooning at the sight of his bare torso.

“You want me to fuck that pussy of yours?” He asks, making your clit throb in response.

Breathless, you utter a quick “yes,” before taking him back between your lips.

“Fuckin’ course you do,” he responds lazily, placing a hand on your cheek, running his thumb down your face, tracing the bone as he smiles.

“Then tell me you’re a slut who loves sucking cock,” he says gently, his torturous hand behind your head always guiding you to take more and more of him, keeping you desperate for air. “Isn’t that true?” He continues, arrogance soaking each and every syllable. “Don’t you fucking love having my dick in your mouth?”

You nod, dazed with lust, his low and gravelly voice undoing you in every way.

“Say it,” he commands, his voice severe—degrading.

You slide off of his length, continuing to please him with the use of your hands.

It comes out as a plea. “I’m a slut who loves sucking cock,” you tell him, earnestly, meeting the challenge in his eyes head-on.

His length twitches in your hand and you know you’ve done a good job.

Soldier Boy laughs. “Get up, sweetheart,” he orders, “bedroom’s on the left.”

You obey, lifting yourself onto shaking legs. Your kneecaps burn from the friction.

You round into a room with a huge bed, unmade silver silk sheets and a thin duvet cast upon it like something out of a movie. The moon’s glow shines through a massive window, illuminating the surrounding luxury. You hear a loud sniff followed by a sigh, then footsteps approaching your direction.

It’s impossible to take it all in. Barely five seconds pass before Soldier Boy is behind you, unbuttoning your blouse.

“You got a favourite way to take it?” He asks, ridding you of your shirt. “With tits like this,” he groans into your neck, roughly squeezing your breasts and running a calloused finger over each nipple, “I could watch you bounce.”

You shiver at his touch, aching for more. The feel of the supe behind your back is nothing short of maddening; his hardness pressing against you fills your head with thoughts so sinful they’d make the devil blush.

“I want to watch,” you decide, surprised at the strength of your own volition. “I want to see you fucking me.”

You wind up on your back at the edge of the mattress with Soldier Boy between your legs. Desire simmers into your very bones, threatening to undo you before even being touched.

He bunches up your skirt and slides a thumb down the middle of your panties. “Fuckin’ soaked,” he whispers to himself with a smile, shaking his head. He pulls them off roughly and sets himself up at your entrance, running his tip along your swollen clit one, two, three times.

“Stay up on your elbows and don’t look away—got it, sweetheart?” The stranger orders. You respond with a fervent nod. As he slides himself between your folds, you let out a soft gasp, watching his cock disappear inside you. He groans, then flashes you an arrogant smirk.

“Fucking desperate for it,” he says. “Look how good your pussy takes it.”

Placing his hands on your upper thighs, he sets a rhythm, slow and hard; all you can do is stare, open-mouthed, at the sight of his cock slamming in and out of you. You meet his eyes for a moment—his full of mockery and satisfaction, yours likely full of wild abandon.

“You like seeing me ruin you?”

Struggling to form words, you merely gasp out a desperate “yeah” and it sounds more like a question. You try to stay propped up on your elbows as the brutality of his thrusts intensifies—he fucks you harder and faster with every movement.

“Ohhh, fuck, yeah you do,” he answers, throwing his head back, a winner’s smile spreading across his face.

It feels so good you can hardly string together a cohesive thought. You reach out for something to grab onto and your fingers find his forearm, the indestructible muscles underneath tensing as you struggle to stay up. Soldier boy smiles down at your dazed expression, placing his hands on either side of your head as he leans forward.

“Open that mouth just a little wider for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, contrasting the roughness of his thrusts.

You obey, and placing his thumb on your chin, he spits in your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue.

“Swallow, baby,” he says, and so you do, moaning as his spit slides down your throat.

He ducks his head down. “Fuck that’s so hot,” he groans, finding your clit and drawing lazy circles on your pulsing, swollen bud.

“You’re a fuckin’ superstar, sweetheart, the way this pussy takes cock.”

The stimulation overwhelms you entirely. “I-I can’t hold on,” you gasp out, feeling a familiar warmth spreading from where his thumb plays with your pulsing bud.

He wraps a hand around your throat, forcing you to look deep inside his heavy-lidded eyes, his dilated pupils.

“Tell me how much of a slut you are for this cock and I’ll let you come,” he orders with a mocking smile.

You can feel yourself going, seeing stars from the feel of his thighs slamming into your ass, his length reaching deep inside you, and the hand wrapped around your throat.

The man certainly loved making you talk in moments where words were impossible to form.

Soldier Boy laughs. “What, fuckin’ cock-drunk already?” His hand momentarily leaves your throat to collide with your cheek, waking you out of your stupor, before wrapping around your jaw. His grip is controlled—it inflicts no pain but allows for no negotiation, either.

“Tell me you love it.”

“I love it,” you moan, barely above a whisper. All you can focus on is holding back your climax as his fingers continue to work at the apex between your thighs.

“Scream it,” he orders, slamming himself inside you. The violent sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, fills your ears.

“Please-“ you beg, the word coated in desperation.

“Fuckin’ scream it,” he demands, unbending.

He leans in deep, his cock grazing the sweet spot at your core.

Warmth and lust erupt from inside you.

Words become easy, now. “I love it, I love it, oh my god I love your cock,” you half-gasp, half-cry as your orgasm blossoms through your body. You tremble underneath him and he laughs, continuing to fuck you through the waves of bliss.

“Just a desperate fuckin’ whore,” he taunts, running his hands along your sides, your breasts, before reaching your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze.

He pulls out quickly, leaving you panting, shaking, dazed, empty.

“On your knees one more time for me, doll,” he says with surprising gentleness, pulling you by the arm off the edge of the bed. “I wanna see you taste my fuckin’ load,” the supe says with a smile, again using a large hand to guide his length into your open mouth.

You take him in slowly, registering your own acidic taste on his cock. There’s a low groan from him, and then he’s holding both sides of your head steady and thrusting into the back of your throat.

“Fuck. Yeah.” He says, throwing his head back. You keep your eyes up, locked on him. When he meets your gaze, he groans, “god, you look a fucking mess.” He grins down at you, “I almost feel bad for getting you up here.”

You freeze and look up at him, his length still halfway down your throat.

He scoffs and smiles. “You really think they’d get someone from your floor to bring fucking coffees up here?” He palms your cheek, shaking his head. “I knew from the moment I saw you at the shoot last week—your little fucking clipboard and that short ass skirt…” he trails off, stroking your cheek as you stare up into his daring eyes.

“I knew I had to see you like this.”

His words send shivers down your spine. You know you should feel used, tricked, or stupid, but all you feel is grateful, special, at his having noticed you. That desperate desire to please him simmers fiercely in your blood.

Slowly, you begin moving again, running your tongue down the length of his cock before circling the tip, tauntingly, slowly, adoringly. He shakes his head and grins: a god between your lips.

“Good girl.”

You grab his hips to steady yourself, trying your best to stay still and take his whole length without choking, lightheaded from the lack of air.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You feel his cock twitch as a stream of warmth slips down your throat, salty and thick. He relaxes his grip and slowly pulls his length out from your mouth. “Look at me and swallow, baby,” Soldier boy whispers firmly, holding your cheek in his hand.

You close your mouth and swallow, trying to steady your breath as the taste of him lingers in your mouth. He smiles and wipes a thick finger along your lips.

“‘Could keep you here, you know,” he says softly, holding your face up to meet his drunken look. “Tie you up, fuck you till you forget who you are… you’d like that, wouldn’t you, doll?” He asks, his voice low, dark, and gentle—you ignore how sinister it sounds, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, turning into his palm and smiling.

Soldier Boy’s soft chuckle fills the room, and he leans down to take your face in both his calloused, firm hands.

“You’re a fucking star, sweetheart,” he says. “You’re my fucking star, right?”

You gaze into his darkened eyes, wondering how in the world you came to be in this position.

It didn’t matter.

You were here now, and you wanted more. Needed more.

“Right.”

Your answer is met by a look of utter male satisfaction, Soldier Boy’s eyes filling again with animalistic hunger.

You’d be his for as long as he’d have you.