#( this could have absolutely gone so much longer i had to restrain myself )

[tathrin]

Kiss #17, please (to distract)? Thank you!

Absolutely, and what an appropriate choice to send when I'm trying to distract myself from what I'm supposed to be doing lol (thank you). Anyway, prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time.

Legolas was fidgeting. Gimli glanced over sideways, a concerned frown furrowing underneath his beard. It was not the motion itself that had caught his attention: Legolas was by nature a creature of near-constant motion, a trait that seemed to be shared by all Wood-elves. They were like the trees they loved so much, ever swaying in some breeze that only they could feel; ever rustling like the whisper of thin green leaves overhead.

This was not that sort of motion; this was fidgeting. This was nerves.

Gimli could tell the difference at a glance, after so many years (he was not actually sure how many years anymore; time was a strange thing in the Undying Lands) of their companionship. Legolas's usual motion was soft and winding, like a gentle summer breeze. These fidgets, as he twisted his long bark-brown fingers together, were short and sharp and miserable.

He was nervous. It showed in the tension of his smooth and beardless face, in the darting glances of his bright grey eyes, and most of all in the twiddling of those spindly fingers.

Gimli reached over and covered Legolas's hands with one of his own, broad palm stilling the much longer, thinner digits with ease. Legolas looked over and gave him a grateful smile, but the skittering tension did not leave his eyes.

"You are distressed," Gimli said. He kept his voice low, although he knew that the other elves near them would hear well enough; elvish senses were too keen to be so easily avoided. But Gimli knew too that the others were all preoccupied with their own thoughts, and would not pry without cause. "Why?"

"I have never met him before," Legolas replied in a murmur. He curled one of his hands up around Gimli's, lacing their fingers together. "What if he...what if he is disappointed by me?"

"How could anyone be disappointed in you?"

That instinctive response merited Gimli another brief flash of a grateful smile, but this one was gone even faster than the first. "Oropher was a great Elf Lord," Legolas replied softly. "A leader even before he was crowned a king. He is spoken of with respect even by the Noldor—or some of them, at least; and that is no small thing, for us of the Woodland Realm."

"True enough," said Gimli, his words slow as grinding stone, "but I do not see why any of that should give you cause to fret, my dear."

Legolas swallowed. "I am so small, Gimli, compared to that. What if he is disappointed to meet a grandson who is so much less?"

"Ridiculous," Gimli snapped. "Legolas, you are being as foolish as a Took—no, moreso; for Tooks at least can recognize their own worth. You are a treasure among elves, my dear, and I do not say that only because you are my treasure."

Legolas could not restrain a watery laugh at that, and Gimli smiled to see it.

The smile passed quickly, though, and the frown returned, deeper now than before. "Do you fear that he will be disappointed to find that you have chosen a dwarf?"

"What?" Legolas gaped at him. "Of course not!"

"No?" Gimli raised an eyebrow. "He was an elf of Doriath, was he not?"

The tips of Legolas's ears colored. "That—yes," he admitted. "But what of it? Doriath was a long time ago, and the dwarves that fought there were not your kin. And they certainly were not you." He shook his head, his golden braids bouncing in irritation. "Besides, name an elf in all of Aman who has not fallen in love with you."

Gimli bit his lip to restrain his smirk. "I can name several," he said.

"That you have met?" Legolas retorted, and Gimli could not stop the short bark of a guffaw that slipped past his beard.

"Indeed, yes!" he chuckled. "Many look upon me with grudging tolerance at best, and you know it."

"None whose opinions are worth counting," Legolas said loftily.

Gimli smiled at him. "Fair enough," he allowed. "Your grandfather's opinion, however, is one that we would both value, I think."

"Nellglind adores you. And he died much closer to the events of which you allude than Oropher."

Gimli granted the truth of that statement with a nod, and decided that now was not the time to point out that Oropher's husband had not exactly been enamored of Gimli immediately upon meeting him. Instead he said, "Well, if you are not concerned that he will be displeased to see me by your side, then I cannot imagine what could possibly be the source of this fretting."

"I am not sure that it has a source," Legolas muttered. He drew his knees up before him where he sat on the slope of the low, grassy hill outside the Halls of Mandos where the elves of Greenwood had gathered to wait for the return of their first king. "Only that this is the first time that I will have been here to see one of my family Return from Death, and I find myself plagued by an anxiety over it that I cannot name."

Gimli nodded his understanding of that, too. "Well," he said, "as I understand it, you will not have long to wait, my love. Soon he will be back among the living, and you will meet, and he will adore you I am sure—even as I do."

He silently considered the merits of making himself scare for Oropher's actual arrival, however; of giving the legendary Elvenking a few minutes to meet his grandson on Legolas's own merits before confronting him with the reality of Legolas's dwarven husband. It seemed not just the prudent course of action, but the polite one, too. After all, while Gimli was indeed part of Oropher's family now, Oropher did not know that yet. Let him meet the grandson he did not yet know he had first, and then his dwarven grandson-in-law.

Things would no doubt go much smoother for all of them, then.

But they had a few minutes yet before the Doors of the Halls of Mandos opened, and his elf was still nervous.

So Gimli raised his other hand and caught Legolas's narrow chin and drew his beardless face down to him for a long, slow kiss. Legolas fairly melted into Gimli's arms, all the tension of his long limbs running out of him like iron set too long over a hot forge.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Anytime, my love," Gimli replied, and pressed a second, softer kiss against Legolas's now smiling lips.

Of course, that was the moment that Oropher took to actually walk out of the Halls.

[omo-queer]

if this is too far, I apologise and just ignore this ask, but I just find it so impressive that your able to keep edging yourself. It just kinda shows how strong you are when you can go so long without getting off and it's going to be so worth it when all the weeks are up and you finally get that release. I've tried edging myself but I can't do it, like everytime I maybe last once before I just can't restrain myself and just the neediness. Which makes me all the more impressed by how good you are at denying yourself, I might have to try harder next time. :)

- 🦊

it's definitely not too far! thank you for sending this in!

i definitely haven't always been this good at edging myself. as soon as i understood the idea of orgasm denial, it was really appealing to me, maybe literally my favorite kink. but when i was less experienced with it, i would struggle just to edge, go to sleep, and then not immediately get myself off when i woke up.

but a big thing about me is that i will make self-control as much as i need to if i want something bad enough. and funny enough, not getting off is something i want pretty damn bad. so with practice i did my first week, and eventually i made it a whole month. that was a while ago, and then i took a break from doing denial longer than 72h just bc i wasn't feeling it—i had a lot of other stuff going on and i just didn't have the time or mental bandwidth to be like. so horny i start to shake a little twice or three times a day.

but then i got back on board with it a couple months ago when i started this blog, and i figured i would try out letting tumblr notes decide when i get to come, which turned out to be 1) way hotter and 2) even more motivation not to go over. it turns out your body can do some incredible things when you don't have a choice in the matter... i do sort of wish i knew someone in person who i could have this sort of dynamic with, because i think that might be even hotter still.

i don't really have sex dreams and i haven't ruined yet so it's been a really high intensity period of absolutely no release... so i can't exactly say it's easy, but it is surprising to me just how doable it feels to just keep edging.

another consideration is (and idk if anyone else thinks this way. lmk if you do!) when i'm denying myself it's almost like my body is the submissive entity and my mind is dominating it? i rationally know that my brain and my body are one thing, but it's sort of the dominance of my conscious mind over all the pathetic needy stuff my body tries to do to go over the edge. maybe that's weird, but it seems to work for me pretty well. i think this is a big part of why i don't get much subbier when i deny myself—if someone else were denying me, i could be submissive to them about it, but i'm basically just denying myself. and in that scene i'm at least as dominant as i am submissive.

there was a blog on here a long time ago, i think it was significantly pre-purge, where the person running it would deny her followers but she also did long-term self-denial. and she never framed her own denial as submissive, even though everyone she kept denied was very submissive to her about theirs. some part of me wants to be like she was—knowing what it's like to be denied helps better get into the heads of submissives who themselves are denied.

anyway! big thanks for the ask, it was a good one... if you do deny yourself, let me know how it goes! especially let me know if you're ever edging to my posts. maybe i could even help push you a little bit further than you've gone before, if that's something you're interested in.

[paintedkinzy-88]

I gave myself a rest day to finish another ref sheet wheeeze.

I have four more weeks of this quarter, this is the last you’re getting for a while.

Probably.

Most likely.

Dream, Guardian of Positivity

Full Dragon Form Reference

Half Dragon Form Reference (WIP)

Dragon Breath:

None

General Abilities:

• Dream keeps all of his usual abilities

- General positive aura and empathy

- Teleportation

- Healing, though it take a lot of energy

- Summoning minor bone attacks

- He can still change his staff into blades/a bow, along with summoning arrows, but it’s pretty much impossible to utilize as a dragon (hard to hold anything with paws) so he doesn’t ever do it

• Though he cannot fly, he has very long, light, and graceful leaps that can almost simulate such, if done right

• The glow effect of his mouth, eyes, and ecto makes for a great nightlight/flashlight in dark spaces

• With a little training, he’s able to utilize his claws and fangs in a battle, as well as his tail in a whip or tentacle like fashion

- Alongside that, his lengthy body and tail makes it easier to peacefully restrain enemies in a fight

Hoard:

For longer than Dream really would admit, he’s felt drawn towards comfort items like blankets, pillows, and plushies. The very first of his hoard was the cape that Nightmare fashioned for him long before the Apple Incident. That gift, given to him during a thunderstorm and while he was struggling with his self worth and fatigue (both caused by the villagers), meant the absolute world to him. It was comforting, meaningful, and showed that someone cared about him, so his instincts latched onto it.

During their time pre-corruption, Dream was unable to properly hoard anything. He either could not afford items he wanted, or people would turn down his requests. He had a few blankets and pillows, all of which were shared with Nightmare at the time, but was otherwise stuck in an uncomfortable funk. After waking up from his stone prison and moving in with Ink, Dream was able to indulge himself far more often, to the point that he thought he actually had a problem. He tried to hide it all in closets, cupboards, and drawers.

After finding out about their dragon instincts, Dream’s far more open about his hoard (even if still a little embarrassed). He’s collected anything from cute pillows at the store, to his friends’ jackets and sweaters. Hiding it all is no longer necessary. Instead, he keeps it in either his room, Nightmare’s, or Killer’s, though some of it does usually end up in others’ bedrooms as well. He finds his hoard is great for cuddling when someone he cares about feels down, and has little shame on dragging anyone to his “nests.”

Extra Info:

• Nightmare is not his biological brother - they had a brother-like relationship, but neither really considered each other as such.

• Dream has taken many items from Error’s stash of blankets and pillows (with permission of course), to the point that Error will occasionally get something specifically for Dream’s hoard, just so he won’t take anything else from his pile.

• A major design change from the original post is the addition of slight fur on Dream’s ecto. It’s hardly noticeable because it’s so short, but it has the softest texture. At times, in cuddle piles, it’s hard to tell the difference between what’s a really soft pillow and what’s Dream’s fur.

- Added onto that, though his tongue is slightly forked, it’s also barbed like a cat’s. It makes it very easy to get dirt out of his fur, but he never uses it for that because he thinks it’s gross. That doesn’t mean that he hasn’t instinctually gone to clean his paws before (or, on occasion, someone else’s face), only to stop immediately and gag at the taste.

• Nightmare tearing his cape was one of the worst pains he had ever felt. He’s forever grateful for the Stars’ help in refashioning it so it wasn’t completely ruined, but he’s still deeply saddened by the fact that it’s much shorter now.

• Though his ecto glows with the positivity around him, it does not typically react to his own feelings. He could stand in a crowd of happy people while feeling absolutely depressed, and still shine like a glow stick. Whether this is a result of repressing his emotions for far too long, or just how his magic works, he isn’t sure.

• He really wants to make a second crown for this form, since his usual circlet does not fit as a dragon. It’s currently still a work in progress, but he does eventually get one.

[luimagines]

You give them a kiss!

Masterlist

Despite the earlier confusion, I’ve got it done! Here you go Anon!

Since there wasn’t any specification, it’s set platonically (but maybe hidden feels) so I hope that’s ok.

Content under the cut!

Wind

You hear Wind call your name. It’s loud and joyful and inexplicably full of excitement.

It immediately light your heart and you turn to see where the voice came from. Wind is starting to run in your direction something clenched in his hand. You can see it sway from his grip but he’s moving too fast for you to get a good view of what it is.

He stops in front of you, hiding what he had behind his back with a a wide grin his face. “I’ve got something for you!~”

You smile and drop what you’re doing, giving him your full attention. “What is it Pirate?”

“Close your eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Please!”

You oblige.

There’s a moment of silence before you feel something being placed on your head. It’s light but it feels oddly familiar and you open your eyes.

Whatever was in Wind’s hands before is gone and he’s staring at you with a pleased look on his face.

You slowly raise your hands to touch what it is and feel yourself smile.

It’s a flower crown.

“I made it myself!” Wind declares proudly. “Hyrule showed me how to make them. It’s not exactly the first one I made... That one didn’t come out as good, I think. But I like this one and thought it would look great on you!”

Your smile widens to a grin and you pull Wind into a hug. Your heart swells in adoration for this boy and you spin him around somewhat. “I love it! Thank you!”

You pull away slightly and give him a kiss on the forehead as thanks. “You’re very sweet.”

There’s a slight blush on his face as he pulls away from you, but his smile never falters. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”

Twilight

"Hey Twilight!" You skip to his side and place your hands on your hips. "How are you on this beautiful day?"

"I'm doing mighty fine, thank you." Twilight tosses a grin over his shoulder before he goes back to checking through Epona's supplies.

"What-cha doing?"

"Just checking through an old bag of mine. I'm looking for a new shirt."

This piques your interest. "Why?"

"My current one is starting to smell to kingdom come so while it needs to be washed, I need to find my other one."

"Well... I mean it's not that....Yeah..... Wild and I didn't want to say anything, but at least you're aware."

"Ok. Thanks." Twi deadpans. "I can feel your support from miles away. I am so glad that I'm traveling with you lot."

"We like having you around too!" You grin and punch his shoulder lightly. "Enough so that it's easy to tolerate the dog smell."

"You know what-" Twilight takes a swing in your direction but you easily dodge it. He's quick to follow you and take another swing.

You catch it and bring his fist towards your mouth to place a quick kiss on his knuckles.

"Maybe a shower will help too." You grin.

Twilight groans and takes his hand back. "I'll take that into consideration."

He begin to absentmindedly rub his thumb over where you kiss him even as he turns away from you and back to Epona.

"Glad I could help."

"Get out!"

You leave laughing.

Warrior

"Excuse me, but I need your assistance." Warrior walks up to and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. "It'll only take a moment."

"Sure thing Capitan." You grin and drop your little project into your pocket. "What do you need?"

"I heard that you have a specific set of skills that I believe would help me greatly in a personal endeavor of mine."

"Drop the fancy talk." You deadpan. "It only makes you look suspicious."

"I want you to teach me about flowers." He admits in a rush.

"...Why?"

"...Seeecret." Warrior hisses through his teeth, unwilling to tell you why. "You're good at knowing what plants do what and how they help people. You're the best person to go to."

"It comes with the territory of herbalism." You grin. "But it's not all about flowers. I'd have to know what you're going to do with the plants if you want me to help you."

Warrior pauses and he takes a while to think about your reply. There's a moment where you can see that's he's battling himself about your conditions. Somewhere among the lines he comes a consensus and sighs. "...But it was supposed to be for you."

There's a blush on his face and he begins to scratch the back of his neck. He's not meeting your eyes.

His reveal surprises you and you smile at the soft confession. You stare at him for a little moment longer you snort. "Ok fine. I'll let you keep your secrets. I've been teaching Hyrule about being an herbalist and he's learning at an incredibly fast rate. He's your second best bet at this point."

"The Traveler?" Warrior blinks. "When did you start doing that?"

"A while ago." You shrug and skip in his direction until you're toe to toe.

"Whatever your surprise is I'm sure I'll like it." You say and go up onto your tip toes to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "You're a sweetheart. thank you in advance. I'll be waiting!"

You hear Warrior audibly gulp as you leave. "Ok! I'll- I'll get working on it!"

Wild

"Wild! I'm bored!" You cry out and flop onto the ground.

You were placed on Wild babysitting duty, curtesy of Twilight, while the others went to go scope out the nearest village for both supplies and information. But because of Wild stepping out of line and going against orders, he was benched until further notice.

"We're both bored." Wild groans and flops on top of your stomach.

You grunt with the unexpected pressure and force from the hit and drop your arm onto his face. "What can we do!?"

"I don't know!"

"But you always have something on your mind."

"That doesn't mean I can just pop out an idea whenever I want!" He shouts back. "My creative process is an enigma. Not even I can control it or will it into action."

You sigh. "So now what?"

A moment of silence.

"Wanna make out?"

"What?" You sit up, pushing Wild off of you in the process.

"Kidding! Kidding!" Wild laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. "I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"Wild." You deadpan, not elaborating on anything else. You do not continue your sentence.

Wild descends into snorts and giggles at your unamused face and he's completely lost himself in his own head.

In the distance you can hear Legend and Warrior arguing with each other and know that you're time alone with the wild child is up. A wicked streak kicks up inside you and you smirk to yourself.

Before the others can come close enough to see the both of you, you maneuver upwards and into Wild's personal space and place a kiss smackdab on his cheek- stilling him entirely.

"Next time-" You say as you stand. "-Tell me what you want to do before the others can come and interrupt."

You send him a quick wink and leave him to his thoughts. You're quick to greet the others and act as if nothing had happened at all.

Wild is still stunned and red in the face where you left him even as the others come close to the camp.

Twilight goes to question what's wrong with him but from what you can hear, Wild doesn't kiss and tell.

Time

Time calls your name with audible hesitation.

It's unusual to say the least and it's enough for you to drop every you're doing and give him all of your attention. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

Time doesn't say anything nor does he make eye contact, and it's even more concern as the moment passes.

"Are you ok?" You stand and make your way toward him.

Time clears his throat for a hot second and takes a steadying breath to meet your eyes. "Everything is fine, it's just, I wanted to ask for your opinion."

You're confused. "That's it? Time, you freaked me out for a second. Ask away."

"Um..." Time stalls intelligently. "Wind pointed out there's a shore line nearby. I was thinking the boys could use a day off....play in the water or the sand, just a break to-"

"YES! Yes! Yes!" You scream and jump up in excitement. "Really? Are we that close? We can have a beach day? Are you serious? Can we go?"

You can feel yourself beam and if he were to say that everyone was getting ice cream and can sleep in tomorrow then you were sure you'd be vibrating.

He looks at you with mild surprise but a soft smile crosses over his face.

"Link, that's a great idea!" You jump on him, hug him, wrap your arms around his neck and give him a kiss on the cheek. "This is great! When? Today? Tomorrow?"

You drop and jump a bit on your toes still.

He grins. "I wanted to see if we could camp there tonight, and spend the whole day tomorrow just relaxing."

"I can do that! We can do that! This is great! It'll be so much fun! I hope there's waves. I've wanted to teach Wild how to surf and maybe we can get Twilight to join. This is great!" You're too excited to think about where to go but Time points in a direction behind with a wink.

"How about you go help pack up the camp? I'll go collect the boys!"

"Absolutely! You absolute champion!" You run off to go meet up with some of the others and do your given task.

Time chuckles a bit and places his fingertips against where your lips were. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, but he's not complaining.

Legend

"Excuse me Mr. Hero, what do you think you're doing?" You walk up behind Legend and put your hands on your hips.

You had caught him going through your bag. As obvious as it was that he was trying to be stealthy, he wasn't fast enough to get out before you came back.

Legend freezes on the spot and doesn't turn around to look at you.

"Why are you going through my stuff?" You raises an eyebrow and try to not yell. It's a barely restrained rage that flows through your blood as someone goes through your things without your permission. But it's Legend, you trust him and you don't want to take things out of proportion or escalate things higher than they should.

"I... Um..." Legend gulps and stands up, leaving your bag alone. He kicks the flap over, hiding the insides of it from other prying eyes.

You keep your eyebrow raised and watch as he squirms uncomfortably under your stare.

"I was trying to see if you needed anything." He somehow manages to look up and look you in the eye.

"Like?"

"Supplies."

"Like?" You press.

"Just stuff." Legend snaps and walks away. "We got back from shopping. I just wanted to know if you needed anything."

"And you didn't think to just ask?"

"It's whatever!" He storms away a little quicker than you think he would normally. He's hiding something.

You quickly make your way to your bag and shuffle through it.

You're not missing anything.

Nothing of yours is gone but there's a new thing you notice.

You see three new healing potions that were decidedly not there before along with four packs of trail mix and food stuffs that look nothing like what you usually pack for yourself.

Understanding cascades over you like a wave and you take a deep breath to calm the last of your budding anger.

You seal your bag and leave it there, quickly following after Legend before he can get too far.

You power walk next to him and stop him with a hand on his shoulder. "Hey."

"I didn't do anything!" Legend pulls himself away from you.

"Doubt it." You lean in and place a quick kiss on his temple before he can get away from you entirely. "Thank you. I saw what you did."

"And what did I do?" He wipes it off aggressively.

"Something very kind."

Legend stills once more and keeps rubbing off your kiss. "...It's nothing."

You snort and begin to walk away from him. "Regardless, thank you."

"...You're welcome."

Hyrule

“Would you believe me if I said that I’ve never seen someone be able to do this before?” You ask Hyrule one day out of the blue.

“Do what exactly?” He pauses the spell, your wound stays only marginally healed because of it.

“Do magic.” You shrug. “It’s... not really a thing where I’m from. We have magician but they’re all for show and it’s mostly illusions. You know, smoke and mirrors and the like. If you can figure out how they do it when it’s pretty simple.”

“That sounds... depressing.” Hyrule twists his face and goes back to healing you. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“It’s not so bad. It’s mostly for fun.” You try to sit up now that the pain isn’t as severe. Hyrule doesn’t let you. “Can’t lose what you never had.”

“But it’s all I’ve ever had.” Hyrule’s eyebrows furrow and you can see the gears turning in his head. 

You let him think in the time it takes for you to get fully healed. Hyrule has always needed a little space to get his thoughts together before he says something. 

You’re fully healed in seconds and Hyrule leans away from you. You get to finally sit up fully and you take his hand in yours. He lets you take it and lets you study his hand with gentle fascination. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you and you pull his hand even closer to you. Before Hyrule can even think of pulling away you place a kiss against his knuckles.

“It’s a gift.” You say. “Don’t take it for granted.”

Hyrule smiles slightly and grips your hand. “Thanks. I think you might have a concussion though.”

“It’s nothing you can prove.” You answer with a loopy smile.

Hyrule snorts and stretches his hand by your head.

“Oh, yeah.” He grins. “That explains it.”

Four

Four calls your name with slight hesitation and you instantly give your attention to him out of concern. 

When you see him, he’s hiding something behind his back, slightly hunched back and has a blush on his face. He doesn’t appear to be injured or in any sort of pain so it can’t so bad.

“Four?” You stand up fully and begin to walk in his direction. “Everything ok? Is something wrong?”

Four shoots up and begins to stammer slightly. “No, I- You see- It’s nothing! Everything’s fine.”

“Four.”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- it’s nothing.” Four laughs unconvincingly and scratches the back of his neck. “Here. I made this for you.”

Four holds out a little package covered in cloth with both of his hands and refuses to make eye contact with you.

Intrigued, you close the distance between you two and reach out to take it. The cloth seems high quality and you wonder how much it must have cost to get even a fraction of the square he’s just given you. The package itself is hefty or at least heavier than you thought it would be. 

Four is still refusing to make eye contact but he stays with the clear intent of watching for your reaction. 

You unfold the cloth over the weight and hold it from under. Repeating a similar action for the other side, you see underneath it two beautifully crafted twin daggers. The hilt is what catches your attention the most. It has red and black accents, each of the colors swirl around each other and mimic the wings of a butterfly when placed side by side. There was a hook at the end of each dagger, expertly hidden and you wouldn’t have found it if it hadn’t nagged your sleeve as you passed your fingers over the blade.

You looked with intrigue and gently picked up the blades out of the cloth. You tossed the cloth onto your shoulder and hooked the blades together out of curiosity. 

They fit together perfectly to create an elongated weapon.

“You made this?” Your breath leaves you in a whisper as you admire the craftmanship. “How? When?”

“It’s a secret.” Four grins softly, not bothering to hide his self satisfied smirk..

“And it’s for me?” You grip it tighter and flip it through your fingers, spinning it slowly. 

“Yup.”

You don’t reply, too enraptured in taking it all in. Even as you spin it, it’s astonishingly light for both of them being combined than you feel it should be. 

It must have taken a while to make this.

“Do you like it?” Four returns to be being bashful and kicks the dirt softly.

Your head snaps in his direction and you fling your arms around him. “I love it!”

Four takes a step back from the collision and is too shocked to hug you back.

“Thank you!” You shout and give him the biggest kiss you think you get away with on his cheek.

“I’m totally showing these off!” You bounce off of him. “Wild’s going to be so jealous! Thank you Four!”

You run away to find something to use them against as Four stays behind.

A hand slowly reaches up and touches the cheek where you kissed him. “You’re welcome.”

Sky

“SKY!” You shout and take off in a running sprint. You’re by his side in seconds and you’re quick to wrap your arms around him. He wraps his arms around you as well and turns your momentum in a spin.

“Well hello there!” He calls back in return, a grin on his face. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Would it just be enough to say that I just missed you?” You grin back and get off of his back, keeping your arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Perhaps, if I didn't know you as well I do." Sky replies with a subtle smirk.

"Rude."

"Am I wrong?" Sky raises a teasing eyebrow.

"That's what you think. I am a ball of mystery." You let him go and step away. "I am in no way predictable. There's no way you can know all my moves."

"I bet that I could."

"I doubt it."

"Try me."

"Alright." You tilt your head up and place a kiss squarely on his cheek.

It stuns him in place and you grin at the result.

"Bet you didn't see that coming."

"Admittedly-" Sky gulps and blushes all the way to his neck. "-I did not."

[booksofkingdomsandcourts]

Nessian Week: AU Day

I work well with deadlines so even though this is just a run-of-the-mill Modern!AU, I thought I’d post this drabble that’s been knocking around in my head for a few weeks today! It has a little part two that I’m hoping to post later tonight :)

           Cassian could tell something was on Nesta’s mind all through dinner. He could tell as soon as he got home from work, really. It wasn’t about him, he didn’t think, since she’d kissed him welcome home and let him squeeze her ass. No, there was just…something. Something that made her eyes a little vacant and her words a little quiet. But during dinner she just let him talk about work, nodding and answering, and if there was one thing Cassian had learned about Nesta, it was to give her space. He would give it a little longer, and then he would ask.

           After dinner they watched an episode of the Netflix show they were working their way through and then got ready for bed. Even though it was only eight thirty, their rigid commitment to mornings at the gym meant they were always early to bed, early to rise.

           As they crawled under the covers, Cassian finally poked Nesta’s side and said, “Hey. Something you want to talk about?”

           He had long since learned that “what’s wrong” and “talk to me” didn’t work on Nesta. He had learned to just ask if she wanted to talk, and that sometimes, the answer was no. That was okay. He had also often assured her that one of the reasons he kept his chest so big was for ample cuddle room, if that was all she wanted instead.

           But tonight, Nesta sighed and looked at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts. Cassian propped himself up on one elbow, waiting.

           “I’ve been thinking about trying for law school again,” Nesta said at last.

           “Oh,” Cassian said, surprised but not unpleasantly so. When everything had gone to shit and their father had died, Nesta had withdrawn what Cassian was told was a very promising and competitive law school application. That had been over two years ago now, and Cassian had found himself wondering more than once if she missed no longer being on that path, or if it was something she had ever wanted for herself at all.

           “Yeah,” she agreed, then continued, “I just don’t think the sugar baby lifestyle suits me as well as it suits Feyre, you know?” Cassian laughed. “Seriously! She just lives in a big house and paints all day and is going to give Rhys as many babies as he wants, and I’m really happy for her.”

           “He really loves her,” Cassian said, feeling a need to defend his brother. It was maybe undeniable that Rhysand technically qualified as Feyre’s sugar daddy given their age gap, but the implication that he just wanted her for baby making, even though Cassian knew Nesta didn’t mean it like that, riled him just a little.

           “I know,” Nesta said, unfazed. “I said I was happy for her. I just don’t know that that’s for me, you know? I want to do something. I want to have a career and something that I am outside of just us.” If Cassian was not used to Nesta’s bluntness, he might have been offended. But she turned to look at him with her crystal-blue eyes unusually wide and vulnerable, and he knew this was really something that had been weighing on her for a while.

           “Okay, hell yeah,” Cassian said. “My Nesta, girlbossing it up. I’m all for it, whatever you want to do. Law school, business mogul, dean—you’ll kick ass no matter what.”

           Nesta rolled her eyes, but Cassian could see her cheeks had turned slightly pink. “Don’t ever call me girlboss again.”

           “No promises.”

           Nesta rolled her eyes again, and Cassian grinned wider. For a moment, Nesta picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, and then she said, “Or if none of them work out, I guess I could lean into the sugar baby lifestyle and start an OnlyFans.”

           Cassian suppressed a groan, imagining Nesta’s OnlyFans. The amount of money he would have paid for that if she wasn’t his…. “And I’d be your top supporter,” he promised.

           She gave him an exasperated look. “Anything I’d post on OnlyFans you get for free.”

           “But I’m going to support your endeavors, no matter what they are,” Cassian said. “You could try a new career every year for the rest of our lives and I’d be right there by your side. You’ll be the best at whatever you do, baby, you and I both know that.”

           “That’s actually a good point,” she said, pointing at him. “If I get in you’re not allowed to pay my tuition. And neither is Rhysand.”

           “What?” Cassian exclaimed. “Of course I am!”

           “You are not,” Nesta said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “This is my career, my path. I’ll get myself through and pay off the loans on my own.”

           It was a shame there was no talking Nesta into taking charity. If she had decided it would wound her pride to have Cassian pay her tuition, there would be no changing her mind. But he understood—if she wanted this to be something that was hers, it didn’t make sense to have him tied to it so intrinsically. He could accept that. Sort of.

           “Fine,” he said. “But I’m still paying rent and buying groceries and bringing you really big, sugary coffees when you have a hard day of studying. No argument.”

           That earned him another eye roll, but this time with a small smile. “Fine.” She scooted closer so she could snuggle against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close.

           Something in him relaxed just having her so close, but there was still tension in her arms, in her fingers on his back, so he just stroked her hair and waited. Finally, she whispered, “Did you mean it?”

           “About the sugary coffees? Of course. I know we try to eat right, but—”

           “No,” Nesta interrupted. “About…every year, for the rest of our lives. You being by my side.” She tightened her arms and fingers like she was clinging to him.

           For the first time tonight, Cassian was totally taken aback. That was what had thrown her? Wasn’t it obvious? Wasn’t it…what she wanted? “Yeah,” he said, ignoring a cold wash of fear in his stomach. “You don’t think I’m going anywhere, do you? Like I could ever even look at another woman now that I’ve loved you? This is it for me, Ness. Honestly you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

           He half expected her to shoot back about stalking or restraining orders or the like, but instead she squeezed him so tight even he almost had the wind knocked out of him. She moved her face from his chest to bury it against his neck, and though he didn’t feel the wet heat of tears, her ragged breaths sounded like she was trying not to cry. “Nesta,” he whispered softly. “Don’t tell me you want a career because you think I might leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

           “I don’t just want it because of that,” she managed, voice choked. “But you can’t know. You can’t know you won’t get sick of me.”

           “How could I possibly get sick of you? You have ruined me for all other women, Ness, I mean that. And I don’t just mean about sex, though the sex I have with you is absolutely the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, no contest.” She let out a choked laugh against his chest. He could feel her tears now. “I am genuinely excited to see you chase your dreams, Nesta. I’m excited to bring you sugary coffees, and take you out for nice dinners after your big exams, and watch you kick the ass of every other attorney who is unfortunate enough to go up against you. You’re my everything. I don’t want you to spend any more time doubting that.”

           “I know,” Nesta whispered. “I know. You’re my everything too. I’ve never cared about anything as much as I care about you. That’s what’s so scary.”

           Cassian had known almost from the moment he met her that she was the woman he was going to marry. In his mind, however, it was such an inevitability that he hadn’t felt the need to rush. He thought of them as the type to just be together until one day they’d look at each other and say “hey, we should probably get married, huh?” But sometimes he forgot that there was a lot of insecurity under Nesta’s kickass physique and haughty stares. Maybe she needed that promise set in stone (a very expensive, very shiny stone) more than he had realized. He didn’t think she was hounding for a rock, but if she was worried that his lack of commitment was because he was leaving himself a doorway out, he needed to show her that she couldn’t be more wrong.

           As she rolled onto her back and invited him to have some of that life-changing sex, he thought to himself that maybe it was time he went and got a ring.

@nessianweek

[vvitchering]

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” for bobadin?

This is my first time writing for this ship and my second time writing Boba so I am FEAR (TM) but I think I actually like the way this came out?????

~ It’s been a month and a half since the beroya had come to stay at the palace. Six since the loss of his child and his creed. Boba doesn’t like to think about what Din had been doing to himself in the time between handing his son over to the jetii and when Boba had finally managed to track him down halfway across the galaxy. He hadn’t known Din long at that point, but anyone could have seen the defeat and hopelessness in his posture and demeanor. 

If Boba had taken any longer to find him, he isn’t sure there would have been much left to find.

Given purpose once again as a hunter and personal guard for the usurper king of Tattooine, Din is flourishing. Now, Boba counts on him almost as much as he does on Shand. She may be his right hand, but Din is as close to clan, aliit, as either of them are going to get and that means something to Boba. They’re both orphans, survivors from a scattered culture; and in every word of mando’a they speak to each other, every nostalgic smile, every instance of innate understanding, they grow a little closer. 

Things have been going well, possibly too well, suspiciously well. So while it isn’t a complete shock when Din begins to pull away again, it still hurts. They haven’t shared a meal in days. The mats laid out for combat practice have gone unused. Din hovers at the edge of Boba’s vision when he absolutely must make an appearance and he all but evaporates like a desert breeze the second he’s no longer needed. 

Din begins to stay out on hunts for longer stretches of time. He reports the relevant details on his return and disappears again until he’s summoned. His absence burns like acid but Boba tries to give him his space. He doesn’t know what he’s done to offend the man, but it’s clear there’s been a shift in their relationship and if he doesn’t want to lose the wayward beroya yet again, he’s going to have to do something soon.

He gets his chance one afternoon after he’s yelled at his court to disperse and he’s made his way to the chambers they use for exercise and weapon storage. Din is already there, moving through his forms, beskar spear in hand. His movements grow stiff and unnatural the moment he realizes he has company and Boba feels the last of his restraint snap.

“Do you have some issue with me all of a sudden?” he asks. Din flinches like he’s been struck. 

“Have I offended you in some way? Made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome?”

Din fidgets with the spear and shifts his weight from foot to foot as if he’s debating making a break for it. Boba frowns. He’s never pressured Din to go helmetless, he knows he finds a certain kind of comfort and familiarity in keeping that part of himself intact, but he finds himself wishing for the umpteenth time that Din trusted him enough to remove it in his company. 

Right now, it feels like just another impenetrable barrier between them.

“No, it’s not that.” Din finally responds, tilting his head as he speaks in that curious way of his.

Boba moves closer, motioning for Din to continue. They’re having this discussion, no matter how much Din looks like he’d rather take off running. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s hurting them both and Boba can’t, won’t, stand for it any longer. He’s come to value Din’s companionship in a way he’s quickly realizing is frighteningly irreplaceable. The thought of losing it permanently sends cold shivers up and down his spine in a way nothing else ever has. 

Boba sets his jaw. Despite the avoidance techniques Din has been favoring lately, he is still Mandalorian, as is Boba. They will clean the air as their kind have done for centuries. 

Boba lunges. 

The attack catches Din completely off guard and they fall to the mat covered floor with a muffled clatter. Din loses his grip on the spear and it rolls away out of his reach. He struggles under Boba’s weight in a weak attempt to avoid being pinned down, but Boba has him just where he wants him. He leans almost his full weight onto Din’s chest, keeping him down, and presses his forearm into Din’s throat. He takes care not to press too hard; he wants to subdue and restrain, not hurt. 

Din inhales raggedly but goes obligingly limp, unwilling to fight back. It’s like the fire that they’ve both worked so hard to kindle has left him again. Cold fear zings through Boba, mingling with the adrenaline from their short lived tussle and he feels sick to his stomach as he realizes this might be the last time he’s allowed this close to Din. 

“Tell me. Please.” He begs. And it is begging. How far the mighty Boba Fett has fallen, pleading with a no-name beroya from some backwater covert for forgiveness for some unknown slight. He’d fall even further if it meant he could keep Din by his side just a little longer. 

He can’t see Din’s eyes behind the dark of his visor, but he can feel the strength of his gaze. He can feel him tense again beneath him as he registers Boba’s pathetic pleading. There’s a moment of complete stillness before the world tilts and Boba gasps for breath as Din manages to swap their positions and slams him into the ground. It’s not gentle. There’s force in his movements, real intent, and Boba would sigh in relief if he hadn’t just had the air mercilessly knocked from his lungs.

“I have lost everything in my life that mattered to me,” Din begins, and his normally calm voice is edged in steel. “My home. My family, twice over. Everything I had left fit inside a storage locker in my ship and that’s gone, too.” 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost things, Din.” Boba reminds him gently.

Din laughs miserably. He’s shaking slightly, Boba can feel the tremors where Din is pressed against him. 

“Sometimes I think I’m cursed.” Din says quietly. “I never get to keep anything important. My creed, my ship, the kid, everything I loved...” He trails off, viciously biting off what sounds like the beginning of a sob.

Din’s hold on Boba loosens significantly as he falls apart and Boba takes the opportunity to grasp at Din’s wrists, gripping them lightly but securely. He’s not great with words and even less so with comfort, but he can do this at least. He can anchor Din, help him weather the storm he’s fighting through, and see him safely back to shore.

“I pulled away because I thought if I ended this myself before it turned into anything it might hurt less than waiting for something to come along and end it for me. Cut something out of my life on my own terms for once, you know? Couldn’t do it, though.”

“Din--”

“Ne’johaa, I’m not finished.”

Boba swallows his interruption and stares up at Din pointedly. 

Go on. Get to the point of all this. 

Din takes a measured breath and then lets it go. 

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified. I don’t want you to be another thing I lose. I won’t survive it. Not again.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Is that all...Boba--”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up. C’mere.”

Boba shifts his grip to hold Din by the forearm with one hand while the other slides up over Din’s shoulder to pull him down by neck. Their helmets clink together at their foreheads and the sound echoes through the chamber. Din makes a short shocked sound and throws his free hand down beside Boba’s head to support himself but makes no attempt to pull away. 

“I’ve lived through far more than my fair share of hardship in this life. You don’t get to look like I do without having survived some absolute shit situations.”

They’re separated by the metal of their helmets, but Boba would swear he can feel Din’s warmth seeping through.

“If this is something you want to pursue,” he continues, “I’m amenable to that. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere any time soon, verd’ika.”  

Din makes a strange wheezing noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh and sniffs loudly before collapsing slowly on top of Boba in an exhausted but relieved heap. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying you sprawled out on top of me like this, but do you think we could relocate to a more comfortable surface? A training mat isn’t exactly an ideal place for a cuddle.” 

“Trying to get me into bed already? You’re shameless.” Din laughs, clear and true, and it’s the sweetest sound Boba has heard in a long time.

--

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, do a writer a favor and reblog! Likes are nice, but they don’t get this story out there for more people to see. I’m also toying with the idea of putting this one up on my ao3. Thoughts?

mando’a words beroya - hunter Ne’johaa - shut up verd’ika - literally “little soldier”, used here as an affectionately insulting term of endearment as its usually used for little kids

(I really like Mando’a as a language, I think its fascinating, and writing a ship that consists of two Mandalorians gives me the perfect excuse to WAY over use it because I barely ever get to. I apologize for NOTHING. I wasn’t expecting this to be so long. I’m fully planning on coming back to this when I have fresh eyes and revising and editing some parts where the pacing feels a little off!)

[creativia10]

I would Duel for you

Virgil has fantasies about how the final battle with his brother could have gone differently to satisfy his thirst for revenge, and wish to physically make up for what his brother put Roman through. At least one of these can become a reality.

Pairing: Virgil x Roman

Wordcount: 2528

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, implies past abusive relationship, mentions past unsympathetic Deceit

Notes: This is a coda/fanfic of @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors 's Love ad Other Fairytales series. This is set some time after the main story, during the first year after. I am also posting this on my ao3, where I will have a longer AN and tags. Also note, I put this as M on my ao3. This is my first time writing a fic like this. I hope I am tagging this right.

Virgil wouldn’t change how they saved everyone from his brother. He was proud that Roman was able to be the hero he had always wanted to. So proud of his brave knight to have been able to get the ring from his brother, knowing how difficult that must have been. However, the more romantic, possessive, and fae parts of him would imagine things going differently. More specifically, the primal urge that came to the front when he thought about what his brother did with Roman. It was bad enough knowing his brother was had been with Roman first, but Roman had found Virgil first. Stupid curse.

So, ever since Roman first told them about his deal with the Serpent King, many images came to his mind on how he wanted to fix it.

Going back and forth between, murder the snake, he is mine, how dare that snake take another of mine, how dare he hurt someone as amazing and lovely as him.

In a way, he did get what he wanted. The Serpent King was killed. Greta was most justified to do the job than any of them. Yet, there were times he wished he could have dealt with the situation more personally. Maybe some sort of snarling speech, that was a bit of an embarrassing wish though. He did not like talking in front of crowds, which sucked when you ruled the entire magical forest.

It would go something like this,

His brother had just manhandled Roman onto his spot on the armrest of the throne. His hand going to that possessive grip on the back of Roman’s neck.

A guttural growl came from Virgil.

“ Get. Your. F***ing hands. Off of Him!”

His brother would just give him a smug look.

“I don’t think you’re in a place to be making demands right now. You can’t even get to him.”

Virgil didn’t always picture the details of how he made it over there, just that he did.

Then, Virgil and his brother were squaring up on the battlefield, Roman kept behind the snake.

A grand magical duel would take place,

or sometimes a bloody vicious battle, depending on how homicidal of a mood Virgil was in when he pictured it. The point was, he usually fought his brother directly, for Roman. Sometimes he demanded Roman be released to him first. Sometimes, Virgil immediately went for the kill, unforgiving of his brother for what he did to his love.

Virgil would go over to Roman immediately after. Usually he would just hold him tightly and warmly. Roman would say something. It wasn’t always the same. Usually of gratitude. Most of the time, Virgil spoke first, as Roman was speechless, having trouble comprehending that he truly was free. Virgil always would, and he still did, have the urge to do whatever he could to just make it better. There was usually a kiss. One with a lot of gentle caressing. The kiss was usually passionate. Sometimes interspersed with sweet continuous expressions of, “I love you’s”. Sometimes Virgil muttered more heated and possessive things, that were still warm. Sometimes they were on the seductive side, of asking how he could physically erase his brother’s horrid touch, wanting to bring Roman so much pleasure he couldn’t think about whatever the stupid snake had done first. Because Virgil loved him, and intimacy would always be better when there was real love.

Sometimes, in a moment of passion, Virgil would dive in for a passionate kiss first, but usually something would be said, and some loving touching would take place before the kissing. Sometimes he would keep going where the kissing escalated to them getting frisky against a tree, but usually Virgil would try to keep his mind from going that far.

The main thing, was Virgil would mutter promises that Roman would never have to deal with his brother’s cruel hand again. Virgil was pretty sure Roman knew that though.

“Virgil?” Virgil blinked from his reverie as he turned to the speaker.

He always wished he could do more. He knew that recovering from stuff was something he couldn’t just fight away. But gosh did he wish he could. He wanted to make up for every moment that bastard took from them.

Part of him felt guilty about some of his daydreams, as he knew Roman was not ready for the more physical parts of a relationship. Virgil would never want him to feel pressure or rushed though, not after what his brother did to his beloved.

“Virgil are you ok?”

Virgil smiled a little at Patton, uncertain how he could respond, because he didn’t know.

“I was just thinking,” He said. Patton frowned at the non-answer, but nodded hesitantly.

“Okaay…well good luck on your checkup!”

“Pat…” Logan said with an exasperated look. “That makes it sound like he’s going to a doctor.”

“Well, I mean he is checking up on his mom though! So I technically wasn’t wrong.”

Logan rolled his eyes and held Patton’s hand.

“See you later.”

Since Roman had insisted on joining Virgil as he checked on the status of the forest, Patton and Logan had decided to make a date out of it. They all waved bye, and Virgil turned to face the forest. He couldn’t seem to help thinking of his imagines upon realizing this would be his first time alone with Roman since the defeat of the Serpent King, and since the four’s relationship came to be.

Roman stood up beside him, with a smile.

“Ready?” He was dressed in what Virgil believed used to be his ‘hunting’ getup, an iron blade in its sheath. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Remember to stick close to me.”

Roman huffed, but surprisingly didn’t protest as they started off. Virgil was finding himself…distracted. In many ways though. They were here to check on the forest, but Virgil’s focus kept going to Roman. His wonderful knight. Actually there with him, while they were both awake. How wonderful he was. Then frustration that by thinking about that, he was distracted from being in the moment with Roman, along with other ‘new relationship’ anxieties. Also, as his thoughts often led back to, just how much he had lost with Roman because of his stupid brother. Being alone with Roman brought some of these urges to his forefront even more.

He could see them on the battlefield. Somehow, the serpent was frozen in place, he hadn’t put thought into how, daydreams didn’t always make sense. He was kissing Roman passionately and possessively, to show that fiend did not have him anymore, that-

“V?”

Virgil blinked, and turned to Roman, who was giving him a concerned look.

“Are you alright? You seemed a bit spacey there.”

Virgil looked away again, thinking of what he could say.

“…I have stated that my communing with my mother does not look the same to onlookers.”

“…okay, I know avoiding an answer when I hear one, V.”

He slipped his hand into Virgil’s and interlaced their fingers. His hand was so warm. It felt so nice. Another thing he absolutely adored about his love. He just wanted to caress it, and maybe pull him into a passionate embrace where he could-

Virgil took in a sharp inhale, trying not to squeeze Roman’s hand too hard. The last thing he wanted was to hurt or scare him. Roman was still looking at him, brows furrowed.

“Hey. What is it?” He stopped.

“We probably shouldn’t just stop here in the middle of the forest.”

Roman half smiled and walked closer to him, holding Virgil’s other hand as well.

“I am here, with the prince of the forest. I am sure we’re okay.”

Damn right, he thought in response to that.

Virgil smiled at him, sure the awe was clear on his face. Virgil brought their hands up so he could gently cup Roman’s face, and pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. He let out a relieved sigh at feeling his love’s touch.

“It might seem silly,” he finally admitted.

Roman laughed a little at that, then Virgil felt him nuzzle their noses together.

“I am sure I won’t mind, my spidery princeling. Especially when you are acting so vulnerable about it.” He leaned forward quickly to peck Virgil then back. Virgil almost followed his lips then stopped himself. He wanted to at least let Roman know what had been playing through his mind before he found himself go any further. He was still hesitant though.

“…also might reference a topic you may not want to talk about.” He heard a sharp inhale from Roman, so he started to pull away and opened his eyes. Roman squeezed Virgil’s hands before he could let go.

“How about you start…and I’ll let you know if I can’t right now, okay?”

Virgil hesitated but nodded.

“Okay, so” He took a breath. “Since…the Serpent King’s defeat-“

Virgil didn’t miss Roman’s wince at the mention, but he didn’t protest,

“Or, well really since you first mentioned the deal he wrapped you up in, I have been…sort of fantasizing about ways I could fix it.” Roman gave him a confused look. Virgil sighed.

“I find myself…picturing I got to deal with him personally…and then doing my best to erase whatever way he might have touched you…by compensating with my own touch,” Virgil looked back up at him, not wanting to scare him, but unable to help the intensity of his stare. Even mentioning the fantasies out loud, had Virgil having to restrain a growl. Roman inhaled, but he didn’t seem scared.

“O-oh?” Roman asked. Virgil nodded.

“I am sure you have caught on to how fae can be possessive. And I would never force you into anything of course, unlike my brother. Him being the one to do what he did to you, made it more personal for me.” With as much restraint as he could, Virgil shakily put a hand up to cup Roman’s face again.

“I had been waiting for you,” He sounded a little watery as he spoke, but he kept going, “You are the main one who kept me from being lonely during my slumber. If I could do anything I could to erase any pain you may have gone through…know that I would.”

Roman took a shaky breath, his eyes starting to look a little shiny.

“Okay.” Roman simply said. He brought their hands to his lips and gently kissed them.

He looked back up at Virgil and smiled a little shakily.

“I gotta say…I love hearing how much you want to be with me, my love.” He dropped their hands and looked back at him.

“Can I ask…how would you make it up to me? What are you wanting to do?”

Virgil’s eyes widened at that, unable to restrain his growl that time.

“Are you wanting me to show you?”

Roman smiled a little, blushing, and then nodded.

“You know how I love to be pampered,” He said.

Virgil smirked, and then slowly started to back Roman until he was against a tree.

“Remember, tell me at any time if there is anything you don’t want, okay?”

Roman nodded, biting his lip a little. Virgil’s eyes zeroed in on that. He moved his hands to grip Roman’s waist, and leaned in.

“Where?” He asked, figuring Roman knew what he was asking, but hoping it wouldn’t be too much.

Roman thought for a moment, then lifted a wrist up to Virgil. Virgil grasped his hand, and leaned his hips forward so Roman was still pinned to the tree, getting a gasp out of Roman, and looked over the wrist. Then he leaned forward and kissed the wrist, looking at Roman as he did so.

He flicked his tongue against it, mouthed at the spot, and gently grazed his teeth against it. Another breathy sound from Roman. Virgil smiled at him, glad to see the lack of fear from Roman’s face, exactly what he was going for. He asked him again with his eyes. Roman slowly nodded and then tilted his head. Immediately, Virgil sprung forward and attached his lips to that spot on the junction of Roman’s neck. It was a good spot. Virgil got a lovely moan from that one. His hands, back on Roman’s hips, was brushing his thumb back and forth, alternating with how he would squeeze them. Then both pressed against each other, trying to feel as much of the other as they could.

Roman ran his hands up and down Virgil’s sides, and twirled them in his hair some.

Virgil enthusiastically kissed up Roman’s neck, until their lips were a mere breath apart, and he didn’t know who pushed forward first, but then they were kissing. It got passionate immediately, alternating from loving touches to erotic ones. He wanted to feel him as much as he possibly could.

He put a lot of force into his kiss, but made sure to keep the pace of the kiss with how Roman was pushing forward, not wanting to get too rough. Lips gripped. Virgil bit Roman’s lips getting a particularly loud moan out of him, which made Virgil shiver. He absolutely loved being able to get Roman like this. This was how it was supposed to be for him. He was the one to get him to feel like this. Virgil licked over Roman’s lips and then flicked his tongue into Roman’s mouth, as they toyed with each other. It was wonderful, and Virgil felt some tension he had been feeling get released.

Virgil thinks he may have been muttering I love yous in between.

He pulled away barely, just to kiss all around Roman’s face, who was breathing very heavily, already slumping against the tree.

Virgil pulled away to look at him, his blood thrumming.

“I cannot wait for the day we can physically become one,” He said, as he pushed a lock of hair behind Roman’s head. Roman was still panting but he smiled up at him.

“Me too.”

Virgil helped him up and strung his arm around the back of his shoulders to keep him upright.

“Perhaps we should continue the forest checking when I am a bit more focused.” Virgil said.

Roman snorted at that, and leaned his head against Virgil’s.

“Yeah, probably would be best. Cuddles?”

“Of course my love,” and he kissed the top of Roman’s head before they headed back, Roman a little shaky on his feet.

“Should I carry you back?”

Roman blushed and didn’t say anything.

“Is that a yes?”

Roman sighed, “I am just thinking about whatever comments Mamaw may give.”

Virgil shrugged, and quickly lifted him into a bridal carry, causing Roman to yelp and blush more.

“I can always put you down before we get to the house?”

Roman didn’t respond. Virgil smiled and started walking back.

“…do you seriously intend to carry me like this the entire time?”

“It’s not taxing for me. Let me feel like I rescue the dame in distress for once.”

“What do you mean for once? Virgiil~.”

Virgil laughed as they made their way back. Maybe some good did come out of his daydreams after all.

[palaceofpassion]

Dom Weiss!

So Weiss is totally a bottom, but have her being a dom for once!

Weiss could only smile as she looked down upon her victim, a strapping young lad bound to the floor below her.  He was clad in nothing but a black leather collar and tight… oh so tight latex speedo that… well it accentuated his figure quite well.  Their arms and legs spread wide, a golden ball gag forced into their mouth to prevent them from… screaming.  It had taken a lot to get here, but here she was.  “You’ve been a very bad boy… you know that don’t you?”  

The only response she received was a gurgle of gagged muffles and restrained attempts of fleeing.  Oh how much joy this brought her!  For once SHE was in control, no longer at the beck and call of her… friends.  She finally held power over someone else, power that she RIGHTFULLY deserved.  So, she was going to make the absolute best of it, make use of the time she had.  

She’d prepared long and hard for this, had gone out of her way to find the best clothes, had even… shamefully put her name out there in order to get these… custom designed.  

She had to admit she quite liked leather, the dark material accentuated her slim pale form quite well if she had the say so.  The harness and garter belts had been the hardest to come by since she was… petite.  That was the word she’d use, and the only word anyone else would if they knew what was good for them.  

Well she digressed, she was getting quite off topic.  Turning her attention back to the boy… no the man below her she couldn’t help but flash her pearly whites.  “Aren’t I fabulous in this?  Gorgeous even, you should feel proud of yourself that… that a lowly peasant such as yourself would be allowed to gaze upon my visage… truly you are blessed.”  

When there was no response she simply gazed down at the tall… muscular… figure below her.  Gnashing her teeth her grip grew tight around the riding crop in hand.  With a loud smack, one that proved to be more sound than impact, she forced the boy’s attention to herself.  “I said, aren’t you the lucky one?  You understand your position do you not… peasant?”  

“Uhhuuuh.”  Was the muffled response she received.  Her icey blue gaze fell upon him.

“I don’t think you do…”  Stepping forward onto the platform that the young man found himself bound.  She placed her glossy black heels upon his stomach.  “Must I discipline you?  Do you truly not understand how… fortunate you are to be in this situation.”  

Once more she received no response, instead she noticed the… mongrel… staring at her long thin pale legs.  “You do not!”  Applying force upon his stomach she dug the pointed end of the heel down.  She smiled as she watched him squirm beneath her heel, yes this was where he belonged where EVERYONE belonged!  Placing her hand below her chin she couldn’t help but have herself a gleeful laugh, “O~hohoho!”  She was in true control, and there was nothing he nor anybody could do about it.

When he didn’t respond again she applied more pressure, as he squirmed below her like the worm he was, she couldn’t help but shudder.  Excitement building inside of her core as she really let the dominance of the situation sink in.  She could do anything to him, anything she wanted… so why shouldn’t she?  She was about to step off of him when her eyes fell upon his nether regions.  “I see at least one part of you was paying attention…”  With a quick smack she slapped the tip of her crop against his bulging manhood.  As he flinched under the slam she could only bite her lip in an attempt to control her own excitement.  Removing her foot from the man below her she stepped around, coming between his legs.

“This… disgusting thing…”  With another loud slap she gave it another good smack, the bulge twitched beneath his minimalist clothing, if one could even call it clothing.  Once more she gave it another smack causing him to twitch, “This is the only worth you have~  The only thing that gives me a reason to keep you.”  With a flick of her fingers the thin material came undone, revealing to her his throbbing shaft.  

“It’s disgusting… unsightly… yet it gives you worth… if I could find a better one I’d have no need for you.”  She heard a sound coming from his gagged mouth but she could neither make it out nor care.  She was in charge, her pet had no say in the matter.  

“Though… I suppose you could do your best and properly give the service that I require.”  Licking her lips she moved closer, pulling down on a zipper located in her own lower region she revealed her glistening slit already moist in anticipation.  With practiced patience she slipped her hand into her braided hair and with a single tug she pulled upon a silver ribbon.  One that would have otherwise gone unnoticed had she not pulled it from her own icey silvery hair.  

“I’m going to enjoy myself, so try not to ruin my fun… would you?”  She waited for no response as she began to tie the ribbon around the base of his thick heavy rod.  Tying a perfect little bow she made sure to give it a tug making sure that he wouldn't be able to cum unless she gave him the say so.

With her machinations finished she moved upwards, finally getting to the meat of the night.  Pressing her already slick slit against his throbbing manhood she let herself go.  In one fell plunge she took his mighty manmeat all the way down to the base.  Closing her eyes she allowed herself a moment as her body shivered in ecstasy.  “Ahn!  Tru...truly!  The only good thing about you is this… this monster of a cock!”  She could feel her toes curl in her dark black stockings as she took the moment to catch her breath.  

“Move.”  When he didn’t she simply stared at him, if he was going to be difficult… well she had a plan for that.  Leaning forward she pressed her nails across his broad chest.  “I said move…”  Once more he didn’t comply, “I see… you are such a disgusting masochistic pig.”  With what started as a gentle streak, she moved her fingers down his chest.  With every centimeter she began to apply more and more force till she could see his flesh grow red as her well manicured nails dug into his flesh.  

She stopped just before the point of drawing blood, “Now move!”  And this time he did, his hips bucked against their restraints as she felt her body pop into the air.  His mighty thrust nearly took the air out of her lungs as it had taken her by surprise.  “GOOD GOOD!”  Heat consumed her core as he continued to buck widely, using his uselessly stupid strength to bounce her up and down his shaft with out the need of his hands.  

She couldn’t help but close her eyes and wrap her nails around his thighs as he continued to slam himself in and out of her.  “MMMN!”  He hit her every which way, his mighty cock slammed into her walls, pressing against her womb over and over as he continued to batter into her small form.  He was so much bigger than her, her small figure shouldn’t have been able to contain such a… such a massive thing!  

But practice after practice had gotten her to this point, and she wasn’t going to let down.  Forgetting herself for a moment she couldn't help but rock her hips back and forth.  His cock wiggled and bounced inside of her, slamming into her walls and pressing against her depths in no way any other cock could.  “SCHOO GOOD!”  Loud moans escaped her lips as he continued his advantage, but she wouldn’t let him have it for long!  

Burying her nails into his legs she made sure to find herself stable.  “FASTER!  FASTER YOU FILTHY PIG!”  His hips bucked harder, the tip of his massive rod slamming into her womb nearly forcing it wide open.  “NNNGH!  IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!  MY FATHER WAS RIGHT YOU’RE USELESS!”  Faster and harder, over and over he slammed into her, she heard the restraints on the ground break as he continued to struggle to remove himself.  “PATHETIC!  I BET MARROW WOULD BE BETTER!”  That had nearly done it, he’d slammed into her so hard that she’d nearly bounced right off his dick.  

The thrust had been hard enough to send her over the edge, her climax hitting harder than ever before.  She felt her pussy spasm as her juices flowed between their bodies.  “Good good!”  She could barely speak but she needed to keep this up.  She could feel him twitching inside of her, begging for release, “You deserve a reward~”  Slipping her fingers around the ribbon beneath her she pulled it apart. 

Her womb was flooded with his thick hot seed, her toes curled as the sensation of being filled overtook everything else.  Finally he’d stopped bucking his own strength exhausted from his wild attempts.  “Good… good…”  

Once the post orgasm clarity hit, she felt her face burn hot.  “Oh!  Oh!  No no!”  Quickly she bent over, reaching for the gag on the boy's mouth then removing his restraints.  “Jaune!  I’m sorry, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“Hah… hah… ha…”  The boy's breathing was ragged, obviously exhausted from the wild night.  “Not physically…”  She grew nervous at the pause, “You didn’t mean any of that did you?”  

She in fact had not!  This had been their first attempt at BDSM, at the behest of Blake, who’d lent her a book.  “No!  No no!  I love you my knight!  I promise you none of that was real.  I just… uhm.”  She could practically feel the crimson on her face, “Got really into it.”  

“Ah… okay…”  Instinctually she pressed her lips across her one and only knight.  

“I promise.  I love you and only you, and Marrow would definitely not be better.”  

“Okay cool.”  

“So… did you have fun.”

He paused, “Yeah… yeah I did.”  

“Can… can we do this another time?”  

“Yeah… yeah I’d be fine with that.  Just Weiss?”

“Yes my Knight?”  She felt herself being pulled towards him and then flipped on her back.

“You’ve been a naughty bandit… and as a Knight… well I have to make sure that you’ve been properly disciplined.”  She gulped at the predatory glance he passed her way.

“... please.”  Tonight was going to be a long one.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[weasleysbride]

Long Locks

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, bit of fluff

Description: You and Fred knew each other for years. Your families were best friends and you took every chance you had to spend time with Fred. He only just found out how gorgeous you were, especially when he see’s the real length of your hair.

* The summer after the Triwizard tournament *

You and Fred hadn’t had hair cuts all year. His entire family had missed the opportunity of getting hair cuts, however, you didn’t really mind. You’re hair, however, was nearly past your butt. Putting it in a ponytail didnt help much either, as it only multiplied the chances of you whacking either yourself or others with it, so you often put it in a bun.

You had already spent a week at the burrow. The entire family had gotten their hair cut, all except for you. You didn’t mind though, the long h/c hair wasn’t annoying you in any way, since you always had it up the same. Only George knew how long your hair really was, as he’s walked in on you brushing out your long hair before. He kept it a secret though. Thankfully.

George and Fred were your favourite Weasley’s. No doubt about it. Only, you saw them as two different types of bestfriends; George was a more sympathetic person, and saw you as his younger sister, and was super protective of you in a brotherly way. Fred, however, was different. You saw him as more than a best friend, but not in the brotherly way. Maybe it was the way he always flirted with you, in a different way to most girls.

You were definetly in love with him.

You were lying in Ginny’s room on your bed. Ginny’s room was your second bedroom, and you loved it. It was 3 in the afternoon and you hadn’t seen anyone all day, since they had gone to visit Bill Weasley. You had a headache from always wearing your hair up, even in bed, so you explained to Molly that you didn’t feel very well, and that you needed rest. She agreed.

So there you were, sitting cross legged on the end of your bed, with your hair falling naturally. There were a few strands on the book that you were reading, but you didn’t care. You were so busy with what you were reading, so engaged in the fantasy, that you didn’t hear the footsteps leading up to the room you were seated in. You heard the door creak open slightly, and you looked up from your page a little startled, only to see Fred looking back at you, shock written all over his face. You then remembered why.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You said sarcastically as you ran your fingers through your hair, moving it out of your face.

“Haha, very funny love.” Fred said, still looking a bit dumbfounded as he walked over and sat beside you, keeping his eyes locked on you as he did. “ Why have you never worn your hair down before?”

“I don’t know, honestly.” You said, closing your book and looking up at him. His brown eyes were filled with wonder and magic, as you saw his eyes twitch down towards your lips and then up to meet your eyes again.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous with it down, y/n.”

“ Aww, thanks Freddie.” You said, heat rising to your cheeks as you gave him a warm smile. You could hear him take in a sharp breath. You ruffled his short red locks as you stood up, brushing your hair away from your face again.

Before you could reach towards your wrist to grab your hair tie to tie your hair away from your face, Fred grabbed your wrist tightly and sat you back down, this time, on his lap. Your eyes widened, as he didn’t let go of your wrist and laid it on your lap as he interwined his fingers with yours on your other hand. His hands you much bigger, and it made you feel safe. You sat in comfortable silence, your hair in your face a little, but the rest on Fred’s lap under your butt.

“I can’t anymore Y/n.” Fred said, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You knew that this would either end good or bad.

“Is everything okay Freddie?” You asked, slightly worried.

“No. Nothing’s alright. I can’t be your best friend anymore. I just can’t. Before you start assuming the worse, I need to admit how bad I’ve wanted you since I met you. You’ve always been so perfect. I can’t go a single day without seeing or hearing from you, and every time I have to restrain myself from coming up and kissing you like it’s my last breath. I need to be more than friends. Y:n. I need you.” He said,confidently squeezing your hand and wrist, while still nuzzled into your neck, his breathing rough and hot.

You were left speechless. You had always loved him, yet you thought he never would. “Now I don’t have to explain what you do to me, considering I do it to you.” You said, removing your wrist from his grip and pulling your hair away from your neck and underneath you, exposing your neck.

His lips curved upwards into a smirk as his breathing became extremely sharp, before moving his hand that was once holding your wrist from your lap to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he pecked your neck.

He lightly licked the spot he has been kissing, before biting down and leaving a large love bite. You let out a small moan, still holding the back of his head with your fingers tangled in his firey hair.

You could feel a small lump forming beneath you, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

The silence was defening, but comforting. You let out small moans as Fred moved down your neck and to your shoulder, where he left one last slobbery kiss, sliding the spaghetti strap of your tank top down your shoulder.

Fred squeezed your hand one last time before letting go and grabbing your waist with both hands, his fingers bound to leave small bruises of where he has touched you. He lifted you off his lap and turned you around. You were now straddling him.

He smirked as he eyed your lips before leaning in and giving you a small but passionate kiss. You were surprised at first, but really into it, so your arms made their way through Fred hair while one of his hands left your waist to push your hair back to one side again. You pulled away, needing air.

“Wow.” Fred whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. His lips were swollen slightly from you biting his lip and his hair a bit messy. Your strap was still hanging off your shoulder, Fred couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful sight. Not only were you absolutely gorgeous no matter what, but he got to see you with your lushious h/c hair out of the way for him to please you. He was delighted that he kissed you. His best friend, his love, his everything.

“Be mine.” He said in a small shished whisper, still gripping your waist and your hands still wrapped around his neck tightly.

“Now why would I do that?” You asked, teasingly.

You pecked him on his lips one more time, but he held you there against him. The lump in his pants was much bigger now. He kept the kiss passionate, not letting you go, when you tried to open your mouth for air, he saw it as an opportunity to slip in his tongue, exploring your mouth. You decided to fight back, only his won dominance.

You both needed air, so you pulled away, both your lips bright red and swollen. You both gasped and gave a small smirk at each other. It was a dream come true.

“WE’RE HOME DEARIES!” You nearly fell off of Fred’s lap at the sound of Molly Weasley announcing their presence. You were busted.

“Let’s continue this later, but I think you should first cover those marks.” Fred said as he lifted you off of his and down next to him, nodding towards the side of your neck that he had kissed. Shit.

“Thanks, love.” You replied, giving him a wink as you hot up and headed your way to your trunk. Little did you know that Fred was blushing head to toe, as he had never had a girl he loved so much call him that with such confidence. But he knew just how to get you back.

Later on at dinner after you had tidied yourself up ( covered everything on your neck and tied up your hair as well as changing into a loose jumper and jeans ), you made yourself downstairs to see everyone gathered at the dinner table, talking while dishing up their dinner.

You sat down next to Fred, and you gladly made your way next to him. Fred then randomly asked for attention as he stood up, looking very proud. Everyone turned their attention to him, as they placed their cutlery down since they had finished.

“I would just like to announce that Y/n and I are now dating, and I couldn’t be happier. She is an amazing young women, and is absolutely gorgeous, especially with her hair down.” And with that, Fred reached for your hair and took out your hair tie, your hair instantly falling down over your shoulders, a strand landing in front of your face. You blushed head to toe a bright red as everyone stared at you with shock in their eyes.

“ FINALLY!” George and Ginny said together clapping.

Molly was ridiculously excited. She quickly got up and walked over to you, giving you a tight hug while you still sat in your chair, giving Fred a glare as he returned a cheeky grin at you.

“Oh how wonderful! My baby boy has finally grown up! Oh and he is right hun, you are absolutely gorgeous with your hair down, you should have it out more often!”

“YOUR DAD OWES ME 10 SICKLES!!!” Arthur exclaimed happily. Everyone gave him a puzzled look, before he began to explain.

“Well, me and y/n’s dad made a bet. I said they would begin dating while you’re at our house, but he said it would happen during the school term.” He said, proudly. Molly shook her head before her and Ginny began doing dishes, and everyone started to leave the table. Before you could get up, Fred’s hand snuck up to your upper thigh, squeezing it lightly. He gave a small grin before you pecked his cheek, leaving him dazzled as you went upstairs to have a shower.

I know I’m absolutely terrible at writing, but I hope you enjoyed it even the slightest bit. I will be writing more often, and don’t be afraid to leave requests!

[amorgansgal]

Cruel, Cruel World - I've Been Living Too Long

So here's the first chapter of my Charlotte x Arthur fic, it was inspired by @rivetingrosie4's other idea suggestion during the TY Giveaway I did. I liked both so much and wanted to do an Arlotte story anyway, that I decided to write it as well as The Bitter End! It will cover their meeting and feelings for each other, but it's going to be a tale of unrequited love, so prepare yourself for angst and feelings!

You can read it on AO3 and The Bitter End on AO3 too.

Warnings: Depiction of skinning and gutting an animal.

The first time they meet she’s still crying. The overwhelming shock of grief that left her gasping for air and howling like a wounded animal is gone, replaced with tired sobs. Her back and shoulders ache from digging, there are blisters coming up on her fingers. Charlotte knows she must look a sight, her blouse is covered in filth, mud smeared across her face, tear tracks run down her cheeks and her eyes are red and sore.

She has no widow weeds, nothing suitable to wear for a funeral. The closest she can get to is a blue blouse and a grey-green plaid skirt. She hadn’t exactly planned on having a funeral. What young couple does? Why would she think that the beginning of their new, exciting and adventurous life would mean the end?

Charlotte thinks about the one funeral she attended a long time ago. A Great Uncle. They hadn’t been close so she felt no real absence or loss. Grief had been a pretty thing, played out with processions, quiet sobs, small handkerchiefs fluttering like white birds amongst a black sky. A neat, tidy performance. What would all those people think of her now, crawling in the mud, dirt etched into her fingernails, her belly aching with hunger, as she sobs hopelessly?

‘We’ll read books and we’ll grow vegetables like we did back home and we’ll learn as we go!’ Cal’s excitable words haunt her now. What absolute fools. It would take thousands of books, hundreds of years to learn what they needed to know. ‘We don’t need anything special. All we need is each other.’

She’s so lost in thought, feeling her heart beating traitorously against her chest, that she doesn’t even hear the man’s footsteps or the rustle of grass at his approach.

‘Er, you alright there?’ A warm, rumbling voice says.

She turns quickly and gets to her feet. ‘Who are you?’

He’s as tall and broad as an oak, wearing a light brown leather jacket and blue shirt. His soft brown hair touches the collar of his shirt and rough stubble lines his cheeks and jaw. The hat on his head is tipped back slightly, as though knocked by a branch, and she tries to gauge from his blue-green eyes whether he will hurt her. He looks rough, strong, doubtless he could injure her if he wanted to.

He raises his hands in surrender, though she has already seen the revolvers at his hips and the rifle slung across his back. ‘Oh, it’s okay, ma’am. I don’ mean you no harm.’

What does it matter if he does? The world has pulled every last bit of love and warmth away from her. If he knocked her into the ground, raped her, robbed her, killed her, would it really matter? She cannot feel anything anymore, her body won’t allow her to feel any more pain.

Charlotte watches him cautiously, his gaze steady and sure. No sense of danger within them and better still no false pity or assumed grief. He doesn’t know her; he isn’t going to pretend to feel her pain. For that she’s grateful.

‘Well, it makes no difference now. If an outlaw or wild animal doesn’t get me, starvation will.’ She says hollowly. She looks over to Cal’s grave and sees with shame that the flowers she left on it are streaked with mud. She thinks about the bouquets and wreaths that were given at her Great Uncle’s funeral. So lovely looking and well ordered, that they almost didn’t look like real flowers.

Charlotte picks up Cal’s flowers and does her best to wipe away the smears of mud. When she turns her head, the stranger is still there, watching her. There’s still no artifice in his gaze and almost without meaning to she finds herself speaking openly to this man.

‘We came out here from the city in search of a different life. Something true, something real. All this squandering and indulgence we wanted to strip it away, to find something authentic.’ She hates the words, she hates herself. If this man mocks her now, she wouldn’t blame him. What a stuck-up prig she sounds.

A sob gets caught in her throat and she almost chokes. ‘What a pair of fools.’

He looks away briefly, almost a little uncomfortable with her grief, but then returns his sea green eyes to her. He looks saddened for her, but more for the situation she’s in rather than anything else. He does not deride her dreamy notions of escape and adventure, he does not pity their foolishness, he won’t offer false sentiments of his condolences for her.

‘Is there a train station or a town I can take you to?’ he offers.

His offer is sensible, practical, reasonable. Everything she and Cal hadn’t been. Her head says she should take the stranger up on it, pack her things, head back to Chicago. But to what? To a family that will give her nothing but pitiful looks? To in-laws that will do the same but may whisper behind their hands about her? To a society that will look at a childless woman in her thirties and will shake their heads at the shame? Her heart tells a different story. Do this for Cal, do this to show the world you can, do this to show this strange man you aren’t afraid.

‘No, I can’t give up now. He wouldn’t want that. I… I can’t have it.’

She turns to the grave, looking at the rough wooden cross she had made from two planks nailed together. ‘I’m going to do this for you… Cal.’ The very act of saying his name aloud says a sharp wave of pain through her, but she bites back her sobs.

‘Well…’ the stranger murmurs. She begins to walk past him to go back to the little cabin Cal and her once called home. Her muscles are stiff and aching and she struggles to walk normally. ‘I’ll erm… I’ll leave you to it.’

The tight feeling in her chest grows as the restrained sobs seem to grow more and more, pressing against her throat and lungs, till her eyes burn. He’ll leave her, he’ll go and she’ll be alone to face this terrifying, looming pit of grief and hunger and pain and loss. Charlotte staggers and drops to her knees, the tears all too easily dripping from her face and the pitiful sob forces its way up. She hears his footsteps stop, but she can’t look back, she can’t watch this man go.

‘Damn fool,’ she thinks. ‘Damn, damn you, Charlotte. You don’t know this man; you can’t feel pain at his leaving. He would leave at some point. What would he do otherwise? Offer to stay with a grieving widow?’

‘Is there anything left for you to eat?’ The warm, gravelly voice asks.

She looks at him, wishing she could offer a real smile. He might be uncomfortable, but he’s kind. Unreasonably so to a widow he’s found in the cold grey afternoon who is acting like an idiot. Any normal man might just leave her to her fate, rolling their eyes at the ridiculous notion of her surviving.

‘Nothing.’ Charlotte manages to fight back her tears again and gets to her feet. ‘No, we didn’t know the first thing about hunting, we… couldn’t even catch a darn mouse. If you need any poisonous berries though, I’m a natural at finding those.’

The joke is a poor one and it sticks uncomfortably in her throat. Though the man does the decent thing and lets out a small murmur of amusement. She realises she is still holding the flower from Cal’s grave in her hand. The flowers are almost wilted, the petals sticky with mud. Tears burn in her eyes again; she can’t even do this part right.

‘Well… you ain’t goin’ to last much longer out here if you don’ know how to hunt. Come on,’ he says, gently cajoling her. She gazes up at him seeing his expression has softened considerably. ‘I’ll show you.’

She feels strangely reassured as she rises to her feet. ‘Alright… But you better not try any funny business. You know, I may be weak but I still know how to stand up for myself.’

‘Oh, I don’ doubt it,’ he gives her a quick smile. From anyone else it would be mocking, but it’s genuine from him. ‘Come on.’ He gestures with a hand for her to follow and Charlotte is surprised when she finds her feet moving towards the pathway.

She looks back to the grave. Despite the hunger the claws in her stomach, the grief that weighs heavily on her heart and the tiredness she feels from digging that cold, dark pit, a small glimmer of hope seems to blossom inside her. Perhaps in the moment of absolute loss and heartache, Cal has guided this man to her. Perhaps he was still looking out for her. Charlotte looks back at the man walking ahead, his reassuring smile that he turns on her so welcoming she could weep all over again.

Arthur walks through the woods, hearing the quiet, steady footsteps of the woman beside him. He finds himself still reeling at the thought of his eagerness to help her, perhaps the old Arthur would have turned aside. The old Arthur Morgan would have shaken his head and left the woman weeping by the grave. He doesn’t like to think if he would have done anything worse, but there’s no denying it, he did go here because of a robbery tip.

Old Arthur wouldn’t have time to teach her to hunt, to survive. But for all that his time is rapidly running out, it seems almost as though he has plenty of it. Plenty of time to offer help and aid instead of a cold shoulder of indifference. More and more he longs to help others. Perhaps it a longing for redemption, to do what little right he can do. A lifetime of sins isn’t easy to unpick and untangle, but he can at least balance out the bad with some good.

He glances at her, trying to see the woman underneath the streaks of mud on her face and the mask of grief her features have become. Dark hair that is straggly and unkempt, eyes swollen, her clothes plastered with mud.

‘Tell me, you ever skinned an animal before?’ He needs to know how much she knows; he doubts whether a city girl would ever need to learn such a skill, but he could be wrong.

‘No, but then again, I haven’t caught much of anything either.’

For all the comfort and privilege of her upbringing, he appreciates her humour and straight forwardness. ‘Well, you’ll need to know how to do both if you’re going to survive out here.’

‘I am all too aware,’ she replies grimly. ‘So where should we head for?’

‘Er… let’s try in the trees down there, near the river.’ He gestures the large body of water that spans the length of the train bridge. There must be something down there, even if just a rabbit or a duck. The woods are quieter, the shadows of the late afternoon lengthening. There is still a little golden light from the sun that reaches through the trees, making the grass and low-lying shrubs glimmer as though gold coins are being tossed amongst them.

‘What happened to your husband, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Arthur says. He remembers she talked bitterly about the poisonous berries she found and, as they pass a patch of bright pink oleander sage, he thinks perhaps he’ll also need to teach her which plants are good and which are deadly.

‘A bear got him… it was horrifying.’ Her voice sounds hollow and tired, he wonders when was the last time she slept properly or ate. ‘He survived but only for a couple of days.’

Arthur risks a glance at her, seeing her pale drawn face, the pain in her soft grey eyes. He thinks about reaching out and touching her shoulder, offering some comfort that way. But he quickly pulls his eyes back to the path and the forest floor. Any comfort he could offer would be a poor affair and doubtless she does not want it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says instead.

‘This was really his dream more than mine. I’d have hopped back onto the next train to Chicago if he’d said the word… but now… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain… I have to do this.’ The calm resolution in her voice makes him reconsider his first thoughts, that whatever he could show her would be of little use. That perhaps like many he has met in his travels, grown to both like and love, she would not survive. But maybe she will. Maybe that steely calm resolve will help.

She spots the rabbit before he does. He quickly dispatches it and uses the time, where he bends down to pick it up, to hide the fact that he’s somewhat impressed at her keen eyesight. He only sees it when the rabbit begins to hop about, trying to escape from him. The woman seems to see it when the thing is nestling quietly amongst the bushes. Her voice trembles when she hears the shot.

‘Oh! Oh… Good shot.’

He shuffles the rabbit from hand to hand, busying himself so she does not see how the small amount of praise has affected him. It’s ridiculous, absurd that he should find a hot flush creeping up his cheeks at the kindness of her words. Has he really been so starved of approval from Dutch that any slight, meaningless compliment makes his head spin?

She approaches him cautiously and he passes the rabbit to her. ‘Okay then, go on. Time to get your hands dirty.’

‘How do I… I mean… what do I do?’ she asks apprehensively.

‘Just hold the legs tight, and pull the skin away, quickly. Should come righ’ off.’

She tentatively holds the rabbit up, her face betrays no squeamishness, just nervousness at getting it right. Her right hand carefully grips the fur by the rabbit’s legs. She glances up at him and Arthur wonders if he should show her how to grasp it more firmly. But then she tightens her grip and begins to tug on the fur, till bit by bit she manages to remove the coat.

‘Oh my… it worked!’ she exalts, a rare genuine smile crossing her lips. He finds himself smiling back, a deep sense of pride running through him. He taught her that and she did it. She’s a smart woman. Her cheeks flush pink and she looks away back to the rabbit. Arthur clears his throat nervously.

‘And that is all there is to it. You did good.’

She lets out a soft sigh, almost of satisfaction. ‘I think I’ve seen enough blood for one day. Do you mind if we head back now?’

‘Sure, I’ll walk you back.’ He falls in step beside her, the rabbit slung over her shoulder and he thinks about warning her that the blood will stain her blouse. But he remembers that she has a thick coating of mud all over her clothes, so it’s unlikely that any of them will ever truly be clean again. ‘That should keep you fed for a few days.’

‘Oh yes, at least. Thank you so much.’

Arthur is glad she’s walking ahead of him, though he shakes his head a little and stares down at his boots. Has a death sentence made him a complete fool? A twig snaps under his foot and the woman glances back at him, she offers him a quick smile. The fearful, desperate look in her eyes is gone, she looks comforted.

‘I mean,’ he says, clearing his throat and eager to change the subject. ‘This really ain’t such a bad spot. You got a good water source. It’s remote, but you can survive here alright.’

‘I have no doubt that one can survive here… whether Charlotte Balfour can is a different matter entirely. You’ve probably lived your whole life in the outdoors.’

‘A lot of it, that’s for sure.’ So that’s her name, Charlotte. He repeats her name in his mind, keen not to forget it immediately. Should he offer her his? Would she recognise it with the law and Pinkertons drawing in ever closer? Would she draw back in fear or contempt if she did? It doesn’t feel like he can stomach a rejection right now. He faces so much of it back at camp he probably should be used to it. But is it any better to lie and hide his true self from her? He feels bad when he realises she has been speaking and he hasn’t heard a word, too caught up in his own fears and concerns. For a man who has once insisted he didn’t think much about anything, that is another thing that has changed.

‘…Cal spent his summers growing up at his grandparents’ lodge in Maine, but I get the impression they did more punting than hunting.’

‘Right.’

‘Ever since we got here, it feels like every step forward has come with a hundred steps back. People always talk about the simplicity of country life. But there’s nothing simple about any of this.’

‘I guess we only know what we know…’

‘Oh please, I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to adjust to a life of privilege and indolence in the big city.’ She smiles lightly.

‘I don’t know about that… it sounds awful.’

‘Oh, it is. A truly empty and boring existence… but an undeniably easy one.’

Arthur thinks about it. The notion of him being a banker or a shop owner sounds ridiculous. He’d be one of those many people he had robbed over the years and it almost tickles him to think on it. Would he be a well to do type? Someone who regularly smoke cigars and drinks brandy in the evenings, with a small wife and a family he’d occasionally see on weekends if the notion took him?

He glances at Charlotte as she climbs the hill, trying to picture what it would be like to be married to a woman like her. A city girl who has soft, delicate hands and has never skinned a rabbit. He almost scoffs aloud at the notion. Then scowls in thought.

Perhaps that was why he and Mary were destined to fail, he can’t imagine himself with a woman who hasn’t had a bit of rough living, who hasn’t skinned a rabbit or gone hunting. How he thought Mary was well suited to him he would never know. He wasn’t good enough for her. Not good enough for a woman who was better off living in cities, who could keep her hands soft and her skin unblemished.

They are approaching the apex of the hill, a simple wooden structure marking the entrance. Ahead two buildings. One looks to be more of a barn or shed, doubtless filled with tools and useful odds and ends. Outside the low wooden structure sits a wheel and a water trough. Arthur wonders if he should suggest Charlotte get herself a horse, but he doesn’t doubt the woman has thought about it already.

Ahead of him sits what could be a pretty cabin. He admires the slate tiling on the roof, providing far more protection than any thatch or wooden panelling could. Around the front door is a small porch, with a bench outside, practically ideal for any person to sit out on warm summer evenings and admire the sunset over the trees. Curling smoke drifts up from the chimney and he is glad that she seems to have enough wood to keep it lit. The path in front of the cabin is lined with stones and either side of the steps that go up to the front door are flowers, the tall blue ones he recognises from around the area of Little Creek River. A pretty place.

Once they reach the doorway, Charlotte pulls the door open slightly and then turns blocking the entrance. He can only see the wooden walls and maybe a chair from where he’s standing.

‘Thank you. That was the first time anyone’s done anything nice for us.’ She sighs at her mistake and raises the rabbit. ‘For me… since we got here.’ The recent loss is evidently still all too recent.

‘Well, nature provides, but she sure don’ always make it easy.’

‘That she doesn’t… I’d invite you in, but I’m dead on my feet, if you’ll forgive the pun.’ She manages another strained noise of amusement. ‘Please do call again some time, though. A good rest and hopefully I’ll be a new woman.’

‘You take care Ma’am.’ She lingers by the entrance and gazes at him for just a moment, then steps back into her house and closes the door. Arthur breathes out a sigh he had been holding and lowers his head. Then he turns on heel and begins to walk down the path. He whistles for his horse.

[canadian-riddler]

idk if tumblr ate my ask but. if it did, 30 (obsession) for the riddler or scriddler?

Tumblr says, ‘your other ask was delicious, nom nom nom’

I says, ‘even if it hadn’t this is taking me a really long time because the music I’m listening to has made me too hype to write with any speed at all’

AO3 :D

‘Obsession’

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma [Scriddler]

The first time Jonathan saw him was on the front page of the newspaper.  He could say with absolute certainty that was the day it started. 

Before that day Jonathan would have been first in line to declare there was no such thing as a human being that was so attractive that one could not control themselves.  It was poppycock, he insisted.  Anyone who allowed something as primal as hormones to waylay their every thought was a weakling and a fool.  Jonathan had looked upon a lifetime of people and had never so much as done a single double-take.

The newspaper was in a browbeaten metal box next to a bus stop.  It was locked and the only access was either by key, vandalism, or coin.  Jonathan obviously did not have a key, the location made it difficult to vandalise, and he was loath to pay for absolutely anything.  But one of those three he needed choose, and he justified the third by telling himself it was a small price to pay to get the newspaper into his hands and thus have physical evidence that the man pictured there really was not so beautiful as his memory was bound to recall him.  He tucked it under his arm and did not look at it until he was safely home, and he discovered he was correct: he was not so beautiful as he recalled.  He was even moreso.

Jonathan put the newspaper into his desk drawer and failed not thinking about it.  Every single minute of every single day was haunted by the image of the beautiful man printed upon its face.  He could not sleep for the thought of it.  His lectures at the university, already marred with his general disinterest with being there, were now riddled with pauses and repetition as his thoughts unravelled even while he was speaking them.  He was well-known to the staff as a solitary and unpleasant creature, so his constant inquiries as to the man in the newspaper were met mostly with confusion and dismissal.  He was disgusted in himself for the asking but he could not stop.

Until the night he no longer had to, for he entered his apartment to find Edward there within it.  He stood in the doorway to his bedroom motionless and thoughtless and directionless.

“Well,” Edward said, his voice beautiful and direct from his lips to Jonathan’s ears, “you wanted me.  Here I am.”

Jonathan had never put a single neuron into concluding what Edward must have smelled like, but all of the ones available were thinking about it now.  He had no name to put to the man’s subtle scent other than ‘perfect’.  And he was draped casually across Jonathan’s desk, which would doubtlessly cause it to sink into the wood and remain there long after he left as an olfactory spectre which Jonathan would find himself unable to escape.

His hair was in that god-awful tousled style that Jonathan would now never be able to see on another man without thinking of him.  It was that certain colour that was achieved only by maple leaves only on one day of the year and some of it was visible from the top of the shirt of which he had not done up the top few buttons.  Jonathan had a nearly visceral need to see the rest of it, and whereupon it ran down his torso, down towards his artfully concealed genitals.  Jonathan’s own were filling with a steady heat it was already too late to hide.  Not even the rare shame threatening to wash through him was enough to convince his barely used equipment to settle back where it belonged.  For all his former conviction, it turned out he shared this carnal similarity with all those he had debased after all.

Edward laughed.  It was condescending, and Jonathan hated that he deserved it.  Edward swung himself to sitting with his knees spread and Jonathan hated that he had done it.  “Surely you haven’t been stalking me all this time just so you could stare at me,” Edward said.  “What was your aim, hm?  Did you mean to lock me up in your basement, perhaps?”

Jonathan had indeed fantasized many times about that very thing.  About restraining him, naked, to the wall with manacles which would chafe and bruise and ruin his beautiful skin.  He would leave him down there until he was emaciated and weak and then this would all end for he would have been made ugly as all of humanity was.

Edward shook his head and twitched his wrist up to eye level.  “I’m out of time, I’m afraid.  Good talk.”  And he simply stood and left as Jonathan stared after him, his entire body rigid and unmoving.

The obsession somehow escalated from there.

His room was soon plastered with every newspaper page which contained any mention of Edward.  Any and all news stories about him were preserved on video tape.  He dreamed and he dreamed and he dreamed of Edward, and he had never before been one for masturbation, but it did not matter how often or in what way he did it for the intense sexual desire Jonathan had for him never ceased.  In the dreams Edward was always beautiful, always enticing Jonathan to come to him, but when he did his hands could not feel the shape of him nor could his mind conjure up any image of what he may have looked like beneath his clothes and he knew it was because whatever he managed to think up would be so far inferior to the real thing that it was not worth the effort to visualise.  He lost hours sitting at his desk, the scent Edward had left behind erasing all notion of time or purpose.

Then Edward began to turn up in Jonathan’s daily life.

Jonathan did not ever have to look for him.  He would simply appear at places where Jonathan was already fated to be.  Some of these places were common sense and some of them were not, but Edward appeared in all of them nonetheless.  Jonathan could not leave his apartment without scanning every person he passed for Edward.  He could not remain inside of his apartment without scanning every person who passed the window for Edward.  Night was the only time he could continue his work, and continue his work he did for he had concluded it was his only way out of this.  Edward had stolen his body and so Jonathan would steal his mind.

When next Jonathan saw him the toxin was ready.  He approached, which he had never done before.  Edward’s smile implied he had anticipated such a thing and Jonathan hated the thrill it sparked in his stomach. 

“You have something in mind today, I take it?” Edward said.  His words were the lyrics to a song no one had the skill to write.  Jonathan nodded. 

“I have a truck parked out back.”

Edward hummed in satisfaction and followed him.  Jonathan did not want to take his eyes away when he lifted himself into the bed and leaned back in it as though it were his own and not Jonathan’s, but he had to.  He had to stop this now.  He removed the needle from the glovebox and concealed it behind his back.

“What have you got there?” Edward asked.  Jonathan did not answer.  He instead climbed onto the bed and straddled Edward and pressed his left wrist above his head, at which time he -

They were so close together.  And he knew.  Jonathan could tell that he knew, but he had come anyway.  All of this together stole Jonathan’s breath and his thoughts and replaced it with the violent need to grind his body against Edward’s until the ever-present ache between his legs was relieved at last.  He glanced downward to find that Edward’s bulge was no more present than it had been before, but his was firm beneath Edward’s knowing fingers.  He turned his head aside, into his right arm, in an attempt to dissipate the ensuing moan into his sleeve, but he knew the moment he did so it had not worked.

“Something tells me,” Edward said with accursed playfulness, “that drug isn’t going to be one of the ones I like.”

Jonathan could not answer because his ability to form words had been lost with a motion of Edward’s free hand.

“You know, if I wasn’t certain that was a lethal dose of your little fear experiment, I would have gone for it.  But as it is I’ll have to refuse.  No hard feelings.”

Jonathan bent down and pressed the point of the needle against the side of Edward’s neck.  Edward did not flinch.  Sweat was beading along Jonathan’s hairline and underneath his arms and the place where Edward’s hand was still bewitching him.  “If I kill you,” Jonathan murmured into his ear, “then this will end.”

“Why would you want it to?” Edward whispered.  His breath seemed to caress Jonathan’s skin.  “Tell me, Jonathan.  When was the last time you felt this much excitement?  This alive?  You never have, have you?  That’s why you’ve fallen into this so hard and so deep.  Your work gives you purpose, but it does not give you life.  Not like I do.”

Jonathan prayed that his grip upon Edward’s wrist would not weaken and that his thumb on the plunger would not falter.

“If you kill me,” Edward went on, the sound of his voice making Jonathan helpless, “you will never know the part of yourself that I have awoken.  And you can’t have that.  Can you.”

Jonathan’s breath stalled.  Edward’s eyes glittered knowingly in the dark and Jonathan could not stop looking at them.

“Drop the needle and do what you should have done when I laid myself out so nicely for you on your desk.”

Jonathan’s body obeyed against the panicked protestations of his mind.  He was kissing him at long last, hard and desperate.  His hand had released the needle and was clenching as much of Edward’s buttock as it could grasp, and Edward was laughing but Jonathan did not realise it until he ran out of breath.  He lowered his head to the breast of the man who had broken him and left it there.  Edward’s free hand was in Jonathan’s hair, at once reassuring and condescending, and he did not want for him to ever move it.

“Oh, Jonathan,” Edward fairly hummed into his ear, “you have been fun.”  And his hand, still holding Jonathan’s crotch, clenched and twisted it with sudden violence.  Jonathan saw white and that was all he was able to perceive for a good few moments.  His resumed awareness told him he was curled against the side of the truck, and once he had regained enough of his breath he scrabbled his hand up the bed until he could push himself to sitting.  He looked over his shoulder to see Edward sitting atop the other side, and as soon as their eyes met Edward smiled and swept his legs over the side and disappeared.  Jonathan could not get up fast enough to chase him and he noticed with a start that the syringe was gone.

Days went by.  Days, and then weeks, and then months.  Edward had gone.  He had vanished.  Jonathan tore through newspapers for mention of him in between glances at the ever-on television for a hint towards his whereabouts.  He scoured the Internet to the best of his limited ability and glowered at the publicly viewable footage and photographs and words describing the man who should have been his and only his.  He fantasized about storming into the places who thought they had the right to publish anything about him, inflicting upon them their worst fears and watching as the building burned to the ground before him.  He did not purposely sleep, and the occasions he found himself doing so he woke with clothes both sticky and sweat-soaked, driven by dreams of all the things he could have done when Edward had been beneath him but had not.

It was seven months and twenty-five days later when Jonathan received the postcard.  The photograph upon the front contained nothing he recognised, but the words upon the back froze his very blood:

You want me.  Here I am.

Jonathan learned then there was something worse than lust.  The rage that rose up in him was blinding and numbing and deafening, and a scream of fury tore a strip into the back of his throat that would echo for days.  His hands, divorced from any thought at all, tore the postcard asunder into a hundred jagged pieces and his eyes did not watch himself do it.  When vision returned to them his breath shuddered and his legs weakened.  He found himself kneeling on the floor amidst the fragments, and after a moment he began to gather them together in a panic.  “No,” he whispered to himself with a horror he would never learn how to inflict upon another.  “No!” 

He tried for hours to reassemble the card, but to no avail.  The pieces were too small and too many.  He held the scrap which contained the most of the words Edward had written and clenched it tightly within both hands.  And then Jonathan knew something which was nearly as horrible as the rage had been, and that was sorrow.  His body was a rigid inward curl and he cried hot and bitter tears into his own knees, his forehead pressed into his clasped hands.  Edward’s laugh was echoing in his ears.  Even now Jonathan could not find it ugly.

The sleep that came to Jonathan then was of a sort he had not known in years, deep and black and dreamless, and when he awoke and looked upon the evidence of what he had spent months upon months buried inside of he felt nothing.  He felt nothing at all.  Edward was still beautiful, but whatever part of him had cared was no longer there.  His eyes fell to the paper scattered upon the floor. 

“No,” he said to it.  “No, I think I will wait until it is you who wants me.”

And he rose to his feet and laughed and began to think of what he would do when finally that day came. 

[thegreymoon]

Broker

Oh, ffs 🙄

***

YES!!

PLEASE, AND THANK YOU!

***

Ugh, I hate it when a show gets on a soapbox like this to make the main lead somehow morally superior through idiocy of this kind 🤮

NOBODY in their right mind goes and advocates for a nasty, jealous backstabber who has been making their work life miserable to stay in the workplace after making a critical mistake. There is being kind, and then there is being this fucking stupid. 

***

OH FOR FUCKS SAKE.

But richly deserved, nonetheless 🤬🤬 She should not have stuck her nose in here and should have let the backstabbing moron get fired. With that said, if Moron™ sabotages her experiment, I hope Xiaoshan murders her and dissolves her body in a vat of acid. 

***

LMAOOOOO, the dude has lost his everloving mind 🤣🤣

This was me, everyday, at my old job 🤣🤣 When it became incomparably difficult to restrain myself from beating my shitty boss and his fucking bootlicker with a chair, I decided to quit. 

***

LMAO, this has got to be the weirdest dick-measuring contest I have ever come across in dramas: competing who is better at implanting fertilized cells into mice 🤣🤣

Anyway. Go! Go, Xiaoshan!! I am rooting for you!! 🎉🎉

***

Who would have thought watching mice get inseminated could be this exciting 😅😅

***

The amount of privacy and confidentiality laws this fucking clown working in a GOVERNMENT HOSPITAL keeps breaking on a daily basis is just staggering. 

***

OMFG, they are explaining the fucking Schrödinger cat 💀💀 WHY? WHO CARES?? LET’S GO BACK TO INSEMINATING MICE, PLEASE!

***

I cannot even begin to describe how much I don’t care for the office nonsense, either at Jianing’s lab or the idiot sister’s hospital 🙄🙄 Come on, people, you know what we are all here for! Please bring LYX back! 

***

LMAOOO, WTF WAS THIS WHOLE THING WITH THE MUSCLE CAR 😅😅

Oh, Jianing, so you are also a special kind of insane, aren’t you 😬 I was kind of waiting here with a baseball bat to beat the living daylights out of Xiaoshan when he inevitably drags you into into his secret mobster lifestyle, but you would like that, wouldn’t you? 😅😅

***

Aww, babies had a quarrel and are no longer sitting together 🤗

The adorable angst of it! Let’s see if it lasts past this episode 😋

***

Baby won the stupid mice insemination bet!! 🥳🥳

Anyway, this whole thing was incredibly stupid. Imagine letting one of your best researchers go because of some bruised egos and ruffled feathers 🙄 All of this for some pointless drama. The whole thing is ridiculous. Mr Wang (or whatever that old man at the head of the lab is called) should have put a stop to this bloody nonsense immediately, but then again, he does seem very incompetent, considering he has been letting his underlings run around like a bunch of middle school mean girls and cultivating the most toxic of work environments 🤮

***

At least they are back to sitting together 😄

I love them together 💙🖤

***

LMAO, did Moli’s potential boyfriend just get Gege approved only because he watches the same cartoon as Jianing? 🤣🤣🤣

***

LMAOOOOO, and how would you like to be punished, cutie? 😏😏

LOOK AT HIS CUTE LITTLE FACE AND TELL ME HIS MIND IS NOT ALL THE WAY IN THE GUTTER 🤣🤣

***

Crying 🤣🤣

Asexuals unite!! I will never forget that one time in college when I was doing this stupid quiz with some friends and the question was whether I would choose great sex for the rest of my life, or great internet, and I of course chose the internet. I didn’t even need to think about it and only figured out it was the “wrong” answer because everyone was staring at me like I’d grown a second head 🤣🤣 But, of course, I too might be persuaded to make an exception for LYX 😋

***

LMAO, I couldn’t agree more!

Chocolate wins over men any day! 

***

His face 🤣🤣 I can’t stop laughing 🤣🤣🤣

This is the first time this pair of clowns has been actually funny since the show started 🤣🤣

***

OMG, they are also advertising Wolong nuts 🤣🤣

This episode is turning out to be unexpectedly satisfying and hilarious! 

***

OMFG, she’s such a goddamn moron 😫

I have never in my life studied chemistry nor been in a lab and even I know that you have to go in appropriately dressed, and you’re telling me that this idiotic woman is supposed to be an expert in this field?? 

With that said, she is so inappropriate, immature and irresponsible. Sun Lei has all the points in the world for wanting her gone. Seriously, how does she still have a fucking job?? And what the absolute hell is wrong with Jianing, taking her on a CRITICAL fucking project that she’s absolutely going to try and sabotage because she’s a resentful, ungrateful idiot 🤬🤬

***

The cafeteria gossip bores me out of my mind. It’s so base and inane 😑 Please, let’s go back to the lab to grow things! 😭😭

***

Okay, so the two of them have an insane amount of chemistry 🔥🔥 

I AM SHIPPING, SHIPPING, SHIPPING 🛳🛳

***

God, she’s so hot in her pink suit, I will cry 😭😭

[hi-hey-haechan]

can i request mark smut where it's ur first time and he's so sweet yet hot about it

This is something I imagine way more than I probably should. Mark would definitely, without a doubt, would be so sweet and blushy and awkward.

You two had waited quite awhile for it to happen, really. Both of you were too shy to really bring up the topic. The farthest you had gone was kissing, making out for what felt like hours, and dipping your fingers under the hem of the other person’s shirt. Once, Mark became hard while kissing you, but neither of you acted like you noticed.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t ready. To be honest, you thought Mark wasn’t ready. Recently, if kisses got heated, he’d break them apart, as though he was afraid they’d lead to something more. You, however, were ready. When Mark had escaped into the shower to get himself off that one time, you were listening from outside the door, feeling yourself grow aroused at the thought of what he was doing. 

You loved him. You were ready to give him everything, all of you. 

So here you were, straddling his hips and kissing him, just as you had been multiple times before. You had already been needy, somehow. Your senses were so aware of every single move he was making. His hands were gently holding your waist, the intimacy of it sort of making you want him even closer. Sometimes, his thumb would move a bit, and despite the action being subtle, the caress sent the slightest shivers down your spine. Mark’s torso was right against yours, his body lean and lightly muscled under the fabric of his shirt. You wondered what it would feel like to be against him like this, but skin against skin, heart against heart, with no clothing between you two. Mark’s soft lips met yours with fervor, pressing against your mouth lightly. Your lips moved in synch, making you feel even more connected to him than before, in that moment. His tongue was dancing with yours, the movements matching each other, creating an overall harmonious kiss. Mark was always like this, able to match the pace you were going at. The little exhales that escaped from his mouth periodically were low and sexy, the sound itself sending tingles through your entire being. Your heartbeat accelerated at just the sounds themselves.

And this, precisely, was why you wanted him so badly. Every detail you picked up upon was so hot and sensual. Of course, you couldn’t tell Mark this, nor let him find out. You could just fix the problem later. 

Right as you were wondering why he hadn’t pulled away yet, his lips parted from yours. You wanted to chase after his lips, capturing them in another searing kiss, but he’d pulled away for a reason, you assumed. This time, however, you asked about it.”You okay?” you inquired, “whenever we kiss, you just...pull away. Can I ask why?”

His swollen lips sort of parted in surprise at your inquiry, but he recovered from the slight shock almost instantly. “I just...” he hesitated. “I, uh don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Mark’s gaze had flitted elsewhere, no longer looking at you, much less at your eyes or even your lips. 

“By kissing me?”

The tips of his ears had turned red, and he was looking anywhere but at you. A couple times, he opened his mouth a bit to say something, inhaling a bit, but no words came out. He gave you an imperceptible shake of his head, his dark hair ruffling a bit.

“Are you referring to that one time you were hard?”

“Well you don’t have to say it like that!” he exclaimed, face flushed.

You had to force yourself to stifle a laugh. “What, say it like it is?”

“Dude, stop!” he protested, ducking his head.

“Baby, listen to me. That did not make me uncomfortable. At all.”

“Just...you know how we haven’t gone that far yet, and I don’t want to push you until you’re ready.”

“Mhm,” you said absentmindedly. “Can you do me a favor?” When he looked up to meet your eyes again, you slowly leaned forward. Your face neared his, scanning his eyes for any doubt or even desire. Neither were present.

“Favor?”

You said two words, two simple words that spoke everything you felt in that moment: “Kiss me.” It was sort of a plead, and your lips were so close his to begin with. You wanted him to close the distance, though.

His lips met yours again, and your stomach was alive with butterflies. Your core was also throbbing with how badly you wanted him, but you didn’t care. This kiss was so sweet and slightly hesitant. You could feel his heart hammering in his chest, which caused your lips to curl up into a grin. 

Your hands clasped at the nape of his neck, thumbs caressing the short hair that you could access with them. You didn’t resist the urge to move your hands up further, tangling in the strands of his soft, silky hair. Lightly, you tugged on his locks, bringing him even closer to you. Mark’s mouth opened in surprise, and a gasp was stifled at the back of his throat. 

You shifted slightly on his lap, and that was when you felt it. His hard-on was pressing directly against your crotch. The sudden friction against your pulsing core felt so good, so incredibly good, and you wanted to press closer, to grind yourself down on his erection. 

“Fuck,” Mark swore against your mouth, immediately breaking away from you. “I--I’m so sorry.”

“Mark, it’s okay.” It was actually way more than “okay,” but you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or rush him, 

“That’s why I always break away, you know,” he admitted. His eyes met yours, and they were wide and shining, looking so innocent. At the same time, his pupils were blown wide in his eyes with desire. From the sight alone, you felt your pussy gush, and you had to clench your jaw to prevent from moaning. “Because I can’t control myself when you’re kissing me like that.”

“Kissing you like what?”

“Like I’m the most important thing in the world, like you love me so much and you’re trying to portray it through your kisses alone. I would know, since I kiss you like that, myself.”

“And I kiss you like that because it’s how I feel about you.”

His cheeks flushed, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. It looked so attractive, but you weren’t gonna tell him that. “I’m just...” he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Mark, baby, it’s human; you can’t help it. Besides, did you ever consider the fact that I might want you to react like that?”

“You want me to get hard while kissing you?” Mark’s voice was incredulous, and his face had a puzzled expression. You, amidst your neediness, couldn’t help but inwardly smile because of how cute he was.

“Is...is that okay?” you, yourself were growing slightly shy, heart fluttering and face heating up.

“We haven’t talked about this before, really, is the problem. Of course, it’s okay,” Mark replied.

“You’re right, we haven’t talked about anything like this before. But maybe we should.” You couldn’t help but think about how it felt to feel his erection pressed against your core, something you’d wanted to feel for such a long time, something you’d imagined countless nights prior to this one.

“Now?”

“Yes, Mark, unless you’re gonna go jerk off in the shower and make me listen to you from outside the door again.”

Your boyfriend spluttered, coughing out of surprise, as well as embarrassment. “I had no idea you heard that.”

“Believe me,” you laughed, slightly embarrassed, “I can tell.”

His gaze met your own, the eye contact so intimate that your heart jolted, and you almost wanted to look away. The feelings you felt just from the locking of your eyes were so strong, almost terrifying. “Jeez, I’m sorry. Um, what did you think of it?”

“Honestly? Mark, I was getting myself off from outside the door.”

From under you, his cock twitched in his jeans. You had to force yourself not to grind down on him, as much as you desperately wanted to. Mark’s eyes were wide when they looked at you, as though he could hardly believe what you were telling him. “Fuck,” he whispered, “that’s hot.”

You ground your hips down onto his crotch, unable to restrain yourself. You let out a faint little whine, which was more high-pitched than you thought it would be. Your boyfriend moaned quietly, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Mark,” you whimpered, grinding your core against him for friction, “I want you so bad.”

“Then have me.”

You grinded yourself down on him again, burying your face in the crook of his neck. A sigh left your lips as you inhaled his scent and yearned for more friction.

“Y/n, can I--?” The hem of your t-shirt was held between his thumb and forefinger, and when he tugged a bit, you knew what he wanted. When you nodded, he was swift in pulling it off of you. 

For a moment, every movement he made had stilled, He was taking in the sight of you, Mark pulled your arms away from your stomach gently, his heart aching when he saw you cover yourself up. 

You were quick to attempt to explain your actions. “I just...I don’t exactly have the perfect stomach or the softest skin or the thinnest physique, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Mark sounded so incredulous, but his voice was undeniably soft. “You look absolutely perfect. You are perfect.” He wasn’t always the best with words, and he seemed to be at a loss for them, looking at your body. “Everything about you is so...so beautiful.”

You wanted to cry, honestly, hearing such sincere and sweet and beautiful words. His genuine tone made you want to see what he saw so badly, made you feel so loved because you could hear how much be meant every word he said. 

Your hands were tugging on his shirt, showing to him that you wanted it off. When the fabric was removed, you saw his whole torso for the first time. He was thin but muscular, his biceps possessing the slightest curve to them, his stomach flat and tense, without having abs. His entire body was perfect, from his collarbones to his thin waist. You mapped out the smooth skin, trying to memorize every perfect inch of him. The skin of his torso was soft and warm to the touch, the heat inviting. “You like me without my shirt that much, hmm?”

“Shut up. You’re so...you’re beautiful, too, okay?” You kissed his shoulder, and you then shifted yourself around so you were lying on the bed, Mark on top of you.

Mark took his time with you, mapping out every square inch of skin with his hands, followed by his lips. You felt his mouth brush over your collarbones, sparking a fire wherever his lips grazed. His light breaths lightly danced over and across your skin, the heat felt throughout your entire being spreading like a wildfire. You wanted it, though, wanted the fire to burn you. He kissed the exposed parts of your breasts, your stomach, waist, hips, everything. Instead of feeling insecure, you just felt loved.

You each looked at each other for silent permission before removing other pieces of clothing, slowly exposing more and more treasured skin of the other person. His hands on your body drove you wild, having you wanting to beg for more, to plead for him to give you the friction you had been longing for. His touches stirred your body to incandescent life. 

Soon enough, you were skin against skin, hip against hip. heart against heart. His skin was hot against yours, his lithe body pressing into yours. You knew that you could just lie there all day, basking in his comfort and warmth. His arms were under your bare back, holding you close to him, making you feel safe and loved. His heartbeat was steady and present against yours, which was hammering in your own chest. 

When Mark entered you, he was so slow and so careful. How could he not be? He didn’t want to hurt you, and from the contorted look on your face, his length was already splitting you apart. Your fingers, which had been resting on his biceps, were squeezing the ever-living life out of them. A cry left your lips.

“Am I hurting you? Do you want me to pull out?” his voice sounded so concerned, and it was almost as though he didn’t have your wet walls clenching around his length like crazy.

“I’m okay,” you grunted out. “Just, just give me a second.” You moved your hips, trying desperately to find a more comfortable position, one that would hurt slightly less. Your fingers were grasping his shoulders his back for something to help release your pain. It felt like a knife had been shoved up you, stinging from the giant intrusion.

Your eyes were shut, breathless, trying to get used to the pain. Mark’s lips were all over your face, your neck, your lips, doing anything to distract you from the pain in your lower region. 

After what felt like forever, the pain had subsided. “Mark, it doesn’t hurt, you can move,” you told him.    

“You’re doing so well,” he sighed, kissing your  lips. “How does it feel now?”

The feeling of him inside of you was incredible. Your walls were so tight around him, allowing you to feel every ridge, vein, and inch of his length, which was stretching you out so well. You had wanted something inside of you since you two had been kissing, and now you finally had what you wanted -- and it was Mark’s fairly decently sized length.”S-so good,”you managed to get out, in response to your failure to answer Mark’s question.

And when he began to move, you were done for. The way his member felt against your walls was something you couldn’t forget. It felt so good for both of you. Mark was letting out grunts and groans, attempting to grow used to the feeling of being inside of you, who was clenching and who was so wet and tight around his length. You did everything in your power to remain silent, but it was so hard, when every snap of his hips caused him to hit a new spot inside of you. 

He let out a fairly loud moan, which sounded so hot, before he said, “Don’t hold back your moans. Let me hear how good you’re feeling.: The sounds you make are beautiful.”

Just then, you let out a loud moan, core clenching around his length as he hit your g-spot for the first time.You’d never had your g-spot stimulated before like this: straight on and powerful.

“Mark, go faster,” you begged, clenching around his length. You could hear how wet you sounded as he thrusted in and out, but you had no part of yourself that cared.Your legs had absentmindedly gone around his waist, allowing him deeper. “H-how are you so good at this?”

He sped up his hips, allowing a few quiet curses and louder groans to spill past his lips.  “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he replied. It almost came out as a laugh, but you could tell from the sweat on his face and the shaky breaths he was taking that it was him struggling to speak.

Your arms embraced him, bringing him closer to you. Your moans were breathless and sort of whiny, unable to contain how good he was making you feel. 

“Are you doing okay?” Mark asked you. His hairline had beads of sweat along it, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. His voice was breathless, but it was still deep and rich. You decided that his voice sounded best like this, or maybe it was the fact that he was pounding into you that was making you see stars behind your eyelids. Even in the middle of sex, he was absolutely incredible in every way. Amidst his own pleasure, he was asking you how you were feeling.

“Mark--” your sentence was cut off with a moan. Every roll of his hips was filling you up so incredibly well, knotting up the bottom of your stomach. “You feel so good.”

“So do you--ah” Mark was just as close to his climax as you were, and his grunts were even deeper and more drawn out. 

“B-baby, I’m gonna cum,” you whined in one breath. All you were aware of was Mark, and how he felt with his tip hitting your g-spot and how his member felt as it slid in and out of you.

“Me, too, baby.” The sound that was coming from his mouth was more of a whimper, and his eyes were screwed shut.

“Mark, I love you--fuck, oh my gosh, I’m cumming, Mark--” your legs quaked around him, and you violently clenched around his member, stars flashing behind your eyes.

You heard an “I love you” before he shot his seed up inside of you, the heat of it dripping along your walls. He pulled you closer as he came, whines, moans, swears, and calls of you name falling past his lips. You caught his lips in a kiss towards the end of the climax, feeling so close to him. 

Following the session, the two of you collapsed onto your own sides of the bed, panting. 

“How was that?” Mark asked. His voice was slightly horse, undoubtedly from the session right before. He sounded incredible, and when you looked at him, his eyes were so full of adoration.

“Incredible. You were so sweet, Mark.”

“I hope it was hot, too.”

You laughed, and you nodded. When you moved closer to him, it wasn’t to kiss him. You wanted him to hold you in his arms, to love you just as he said he did.

And he did just that. 

This took forever to write; I’m so sorry. Also, it got so bad at the end. Enjoy this piece of crap. I love Mark so much                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

[zayray030]

Don't Mess With Shiratorizawa's setter

Summary: Semi didn't appreciate having his boyfriend ogled by a bunch of boys. It was time to set things straight.

Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou

If those absolute assholes did not shut the fuck up in the next five seconds someone was going to get whacked by his chemistry textbook and then stabbed with a whisk.

And that was the least descriptive killing method that the Shiratorizawa team had for killing the asshole, homophobes that sat on the table in front of them, shit-talking Shirabu, whilst said boy had gone to get a book

“Satori, I need your help to help restrain myself from injuring these boys. I would much rather not inform my father that I have regressed to methods such as punching to let out my anger,” said Ushijima, the usually stoic teen having a demeanour of complete rage surrounding him.

“You're funny, big guy if you actually think I'm going to stop you from killing those brats.” came Tendou’s tight response.

“Semi-San? Are you okay?” asked Goshiki. The poor boy was probably the only thing stopping the team from committing first-degree murder but they could tell it was all being reluctant.

“If one more thing about my boyfriend comes out of those prejudistic assholes and it has to do with the size of his ass, or his clothes, or anything to do with sex then I will personally admit to being guilty at the trial.” Semi threatened darkly and Goshiki resisted the urge to shudder. His Senpai was scary when it came to their setter.

“As his best friend I allow this,” muttered Kawanishi, equally as dark. He did not appreciate hearing that shit come from those boys. Shirabu might be a brat but he was his best friend dammit and nobody was allowed to say anything about him.

Okay, so like let's fast forward a couple of hours ago before the Shiratorizawa boys volleyball team had begun to discuss torture methods on how to kill the idiots talking about their bratty yet adorable setter.

~A few hours ago~

Semi was going to go into cardiac arrest. He was sure of it. That was the only excuse for why his heart had begun racing to the point he was sure he would have to go to his doctor as quickly as possible.

Or maybe it was because seeing his boyfriend (yes! Boyfriend! God, he was never going to get tired of saying it) of three months in an adorably oversized, pink pastel sweatshirt and shorts so short you couldn't see them below the sweatshirt. Along with this ridiculously adorable look, his salty boyfriend had a pair of golden round glasses on and his cheeks were flushed.

Semi Eita would gladly die right here and now and be quite happy with his life. After all, this image of his boyfriend was enough to check everything off his bucket list.

The rest of the team seemed to have the same thought, all of them just staring at his boyfriend as if he was an angel and if they weren't used to his normal saltiness they would have all assumed him to be an angel. Even Ushijima seemed to find his boyfriend angelic cause the normally stoic teen seemed to have his jaw unclenched. And in Ushijima language that practically meant his jaw was dropping.

All except Kawanishi seemed to have trouble thinking as they stared at Shirabu. Kawanishi, the little fucker, had had the nerve to just simply waltz up to the work of art and hug the smaller boy. The boy replied with the same energy as a tame cat turned savage and he aimed consistent kicks at his best friend's ankles.

“Put me down you savage.” the boy hissed and Kawanishi snorted before finally releasing the boy.

“I'm going to ignore the hypocrisy just this once.” said the taller boy.

When Shirabu merely touched he turned around and threw a smug look at Semi, the expression rare on his normally deadpan face. The look screamed, ‘Ha, I get privileges as his best friend that you don't get and you're his boyfriend, bitch.’

Okay, so Semi might be over-exaggerating but it was clear that the second year had it for him, especially after he had started dating Shirabu.

It wasn't that Kawanishi wasn't supportive of his best friend. In fact, he had been ecstatic when the two setters had announced their relationship cause it meant that Shirabu wouldn't be talking about the older boy constantly and asking whether he liked him or if he would be kicked out of the team for being gay and if the team would tell anyone and if it would be like with his dad.

He was glad that his best friend was no longer second-guessing himself but he had seen Kenjirou at his most vulnerable and he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to see him like that. If Semi wanted to earn the right for him not to be a prettier brat than even Shirabu then he would have to earn the gingers trust.

(Who knew that that time would come in like, the next two hours.)

“Eita,” Kenjirou said, usually monotone voice happy as he walked over to his boyfriend. He'd gained more confidence over the course of their relationship and had started initiating things first now.

Semi had to suck in a deep breath when the small boyfriend wrapped his arms around him. ‘The sweater is as soft as it looks.’

“Baby,” he answered back, with his usual smirk and internally cheated when the boy blushed and puffed out his cheeks. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Tendou clutch his chest and he couldn't blame him, Shirabu was adorable.

“Loser,” he mumbled, face still burning and stud on his toes to peck his cheek. The boy quickly turned around, cheeks flushing and walked away, making a show of making everyone follow him. Semi followed, with a giddy grin on his face. He so wasn't going to get used to that.

Everyone, although still slightly shook at seeing their feral setter in such adorable attire, followed the shortest player.

“So, Kenjirou~” began Tendou, leaning into his Semi’s boyfriend. Out of a fit of jealousy and not really thinking about it, he pulled the younger onto his lap and shot Tendou a glare. His boyfriend however seemed more reactant to the surprising touch, if the immediate blush didn't say anything.

The redhead on the other hand simply smirked at the reaction before turning to the boy with uneven bangs.

“I didn't know you couldn't look so cute!” he teased. Wrong thing to say, which was made clear when Taichi immediately tensed and winced.

“Problem?” Shirabu answered testily and Tendou knew he accidentally stepped on a nerve far too raw to be touched.

“Well, I wasn't going to say it's bad. Just different. Which suits you.” he says, trying to salvage the situation and make the air less tense and awkward.

That wasn't enough for one Shirabu Kenjirou however, and he continued to scowl, turning back to his text.

“What Satori is trying to say,” and Ushijima, ever the peace-loving farm boy he was, decided to help Tendou with indirectly apologising to their underclassmen. “Is that you do indeed look different. But you also look cute and content. And I feel like that should be enough.” his normally blunt voice softened a degree as if to not scare the boy that idolised him so much.

Kenjirou just blushed and everyone present wished that they had the ability to sneakily take pictures on their phones.

Semi simply cuddled Shirabu’s back and continued to work on his assignment, adamant on both ignoring his boyfriends best friends glare and cuddling with his boyfriend. It was peaceful and quiet, and everyone in the Shiratorizawa volleyball team felt themselves relaxing a significant bit.

However, that all changed when Shirabu got up to grab a book from the shelves to help him on one of the essays that he was stuck on and too stubborn to ask help for.

“You know you can always ask, right?” asked Reon, apparently one of the fastest to recover but nor completely. He at least had the human decency to not stare at Shirabu as if he was an object.

“Hmph,” replied Shirabu, already moving away. Everyone around the table chuckled at the sheer stubbornness before returning back to their studies.

Or at least that's what they would have wanted. Instead, they began being subjected to a bunch of immature boys talking about Shirabu.

“That ass looks tight.” one of the guys jeered, annoying voice lowered down enough so the librarian couldn't hear.

“I know right? Always knew that little brat was a slut.” another continued.

“Think we could corner him later and see if he is as tight as he looks?”

“I doubt he is. But, why the fuck not. Would love to see him put in his place.”

A small snapping sound came from the table where the volleyball team were at and Eita realised it was because he had snapped the pencil in his hand. And it had been his favourite one as well.

And that's how we got put in this situation.

“Bet you his volleyball teams already had a go at that ass. There's no other way he could have possibly made it on to this team without having to bend over for them.”

Semi stood up after hearing that. No way were they going to insinuate that his boyfriend, the guy who worked his ass off day and night to stay on as first string and to also keep up his grades, was only on the team because they were fucking him. No fucking way.

Nobody tried to stop him as he walked over to those boys. Taichi even looked excited at the thought of Semi beating them up.

“Hello there.” he greeted, flashing them all a bright smile.

Immediately, they all stiffened. He could faintly hear an ‘oh shit’ but his grin just became sharper. They wouldn't be feeling regret in the first place if they had kept their damn mouths shut.

“So I couldn't help but hear you guys talk about my boyfriend, Shirabu Kenjirou?” he questioned sweetly, but everyone could see the venom on his eyes, daring them to say anymore. Seems like some of the students at Shiratorizawa had death wishes.

“Oh yeah? And what about it? You gonna invite us to fuck his tight ass?”

Everybody stared at the boy, all wondering how in the great Lord's name he had managed to get into Shiratorizawa.

“No. I'm giving you an opportunity to shut the fuck up before I beat you into the next century,” he replied sweetly and he could see a few boys scooting away from the one who had been oh so stupid to try and provoke Semi. At least some seemed to be getting their survival instincts back.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to about it you fag-” the boy never got to finish his sentence and he doubted the boy would ever be able to speak again, out of fear or physical inability who knew, as a fist connected into his mouth. The boys around them didn't say a peep but their eyes widened and they all huddled together scared. Good.

“Here's out it's going to go, k buddy boy? You are going to never look, talk or think about my boyfriend or me again? If I ever hear you say any of those words I will find you and show you the true power of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team.” his voice had gotten deeper and he could hear one of the boys whimpering.

When the boy who's collar he was holding nodded in fear he let him go and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

“That goes for the rest of you,” he added back to the boys behind him who were trying to escape. Immediately they all nodded, all in fear. Immediately he flashed them all a grin that caused the fear in their eyes to grow. “Perfect! Hope to never see you assholes ever again,” he said brightly before making his way back to his table.

When he finally got there he was swarmed with quiet congratulations however Taichi stayed silent. After everyone finished praising Semi he spoke.

“If you hurt my best friend I will make you wish for death. Currently, I am holding you in high respect. Fuck that up and you'll be lower than those assholes.” and that had to be the most passion the normally dead inside boy had used.

“Got it,” Semi said, giving him finger guns. The look of utter disgust on the redhead's face made him let out a small laugh.

“What's gotten you so happy in a library?” came a voice from behind him and when he turned around it was his own personal angel.

“Nothing, sunshine,” he said, pulling the younger in between his legs and wrapping his arms around him. “I'm tired. Can we go back,” he whispered into the ear, hands grasped tightly onto his hips.

He could hear Shirabu tsk but his boyfriend complied. “Fine. Let's go you lazy, cute, jerk.” he huffed, cheeks blazing.

Semi just chuckled, bending down slightly to give the boy a kiss on the cheek.

He quickly packed their stuff up and waved bye to their friends. After that Shirabu went up to the librarian and asked to check out the book he had gotten for their studies.

Once they were outside Shirabu turned to him, face a mixture of gratitude and annoyance.

“You know you didn't have to do that, right?” asked Shirabu, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“If somebody tries to talk shit about the people I care about they will get the shit beat out of them. A fair system if I do say so myself,” said Semi, not even bothering to beat around the bush.

Shirabu stared at him and it was clear the boy was about to have a go at him before he yawned. “We'll finish this off when I don't feel dead on my feet, clear?” threatened Shirabu.

“Pfft, sure darling. Meanwhile, I'm going to take you to your dorm. And don't bother trying to argue with me.” he added when he saw Shirabu opening his mouth in protest.

The copper blonde shot him a glare before walking ahead. Semi merely chuckled, before going after him, slinging an arm around his waist.

By the next day, it seemed everyone had found out about the library incident. Semi managed to get away scot-free since there wasn't any evidence against him and soon the whole school learned not to fuck with the people on the Shiratorizawa team.

Well unless you wanted to die young.

[juniper-daisy]

-my all time celeb crush-

Euphoria

Negan/Reader

It's the middle of a zombie apocalypse. You've been traveling with Negan and his crew for quite some time now, but you hardly ever get recognition from the man you idolized the most. The one you didn't dare cross, the one who spent so much time protecting your people. One night, your artistic abilities come out at the wrong time. How will you pay for it?

•••

It was the middle of an apocalypse. I was with a fairly large group of people; the leader, the obvious henchmen, and the oblivious survivors. Our leader was attractive. He could fix just about any problem with the stomp of his boot. I was intimidated by him and he knew it. We were held up in a recently abandoned house. We locked the doors and windows so no one would come in and made ourselves comfortable around the house, but I made my way to the living room. It was dim. Only three candles lit the room up, a fireplace on the other side of the room to heat the house. Our group scattered around the house. Some in the kitchen, others in different rooms, everywhere you looked you'd see our crew. I sat on the floor at the table sketching while He relaxed on the couch, head on the armrest and legs almost sprawled out in front of him. He drew his hat over his face and dozed off. I wondered how a man like him could find time to nap in our situation. Unable to find inspiration, I turned to what I could see. Him laying in front of me. I started with general shapes, then moved to forming the shape of his body. I'd look back at him every few seconds, making sure I got every curve right. I'm sure he eventually felt my glare after the slight chuckle that came from under his hat. He lifted it and stood to his feet.

"Everyone clear the floor." He eyed me, making sure I didn't move a muscle as everyone else either went outside or upstairs. I was frozen, so riddled with anxiety and confusion that my muscles no longer knew how to function. It was silent for a good ten seconds until the boom of his boots moved towards me.

His hat was over his face so I doubted he'd be able to see what I was drawing. I started out drawing him. Sprawled out on the couch with his hand up, almost reaching for something. His body lay naked and exposed. I assumed it's what he looked like under his gear, but I never had the chance to really see. Next I drew a girl. Me. Sitting on his lap with my head back, so obvious that I was drawing us fucking. When I came close to finishing the sketch, I heard a chuckle. I looked up and his hat was still on his head, but you could tell it was his laugh. I went back to my drawing, only to hear him speak.

"You're wrong, y'know. If you were really on top of me you'd be looking a lot worse than that. I'd have you screaming at the top of your lungs."

How could he have seen it? His hat... Has holes in it. How did I not realize it before? I closed my sketch book and sat on the love seat behind me. I heard the gingling of keys, or what I thought was keys. He was undoing his belt. When he was done, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down a little bit.

"In case you need a reference for size.." I looked up and there he was, hand around his fully erect cock. It looked delicious. He started stroking it, letting me take in the view like I had never seen a dick in my life. I had, but none as big as his. Would it even fit anywhere in my body? Who knew. I wanted to find out, though.

I grabbed my sketch book and pencil so worn out I was surprised it even drew anymore. "Pose for me, then."

He walked to the couch and laid down. He had his arm propped under him, the other on his dick to hold it up. One of his legs was bent up, the other hanging off the couch. I moved to get the perfect angle and started my work. About 5 minutes in he started finally stroking himself, and it threw my stomach into a fit. By then I had already gotten most of the base finished, all I had to do is refine my lines and shade. I tried putting my sketch book down, but he demanded I kept going.

"Don't put that sketch book down until I've seen the finished product. I cleared the floor, there's no way anyone will see."

Why should I keep sketching you when I could just use this to make a painting to give to him later? I could do it anyways, but this was special. He was letting me sketch him during the zombie apocalypse.

He kept going as he was, making small grunts here and there. I could tell he was seriously turned on by this, and I was definitely on the same boat. My body was on fire. It had never been like this in college when I'd sketch the models. I had more feelings for him than I ever did those boys. I yearned for him more than he could've ever imagined. I began to squeeze my thighs together; any way to get friction I could. I guess he noticed from the chuckle that came out of him. I had almost finished it. Little did he know, I had all the time in the world to add myself. I was on his face, his hand gripping my ass with inhuman strength, already covered in bruises from his hand, his stomach and thighs covered in hickies, cum spurting from his cock and I hadn't even gotten to see it yet.

"Finished." A smirk lay on my face, so smuggish because I knew it'd drive him over the edge. I turned the book around. The moment he got to see it he finally let loose. His cum covered his stomach and it that's what sent me over the edge. I didn't cum, but the kinky confidence, my friend. I walked to him, grabbed his face and kissed him. It was a deep, passion filled kiss and it was everything. I went to kiss his neck, then down his body. My tongue lapped cum off his stomach and he grabbed my hair. He guided me to his already-hard-again cock and forced it down my throat.

"You're so dirty. None of my other wives have ever fucked like this. Oh, I've missed this. I haven't had a girl like you since before this fucking hell hole." His head was hanging back and mouth hanging slightly open. Small grunts and moans were escaping like the fluent foul words he always spoke. Rolling off his tongue with no effort. I was doing this to him.

Soon, though, he nudged me away and grabbed me to flip me over. My face was shoved into the couch and my ass in perfect view for him. My arms became restrained behind my back by his hands and knees apart by his own. Surely I was wet enough just being on full display in front of the man I had been lusting over for so long. I felt the tip of his cock prod at my glistening pussy. I desperately leaned back to feel him inside me, but I was stopped.

"Honey, I will tear you in two if you try that. I'm trying to make you scream, not cry." He eased into me to be sure he didn't hurt me, but somehow I still wanted more. I wanted to be absolutely destroyed by him. He had finally fit, and immediately pulled out to built up pace.

"Oh, Negan!" The first time he heard his name escape my mouth it's as though it almost sent him over the edge.

"Babygirl, oh fuck. I'm... So ready... To fuck you raw..." He thrust inside me between words, still way too sure not to hurt me.

"Fuck me. Oh, please go faster. I don't think I can handle not being railed by you right now."

He immediately picked up the pace, fucking me until I was basically screaming. I'm sure walkers could hear me from two miles away but in that moment not one part of me cared. The moment was too perfect. We were scratching and clawing, he was choking and slapping. Hand prints scattered across my body, all nearly purple. My high was finally building up and all I wanted was release.

"Negan, Sir. Can I please cum?"

All he said was, "go for it" and I was gone. On a cloud higher than 9 and the only thing I could do anymore was collapse. As soon as I fell from off his cock I could feel hot spurts of his cum trickling down my back. Euphoria.