#...for fanfiction purposes

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[frownyalfred]

hello. this is a PSA. ao3 is NOT releasing your browsing history, despite what you may have heard on tiktok.

if you’re signed into ao3, your history is viewable in the dashboard tab. it always has been, nothing is changing. please don’t believe everything you hear on tiktok.

no one is able to view your browsing history unless they are signed into your account.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

not to be a kinkshamer or anything but some people on here will literally be like “daryl would be into burning you w cigarettes” or “having you claw his back during sex is a turn on” as if he wasn’t literally physically abused as a kid?? ☠️ like no babe he would not be into that because that would probably be extremely triggering?? did you even pay attention to the show to be saying something this goofy he literally self-harmed WITH a cigarette

[azrielslittleslut]

His Darkness

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel's mate wants to... play in his dungeon.

Warnings: pure smut, 18+, knife play, shadow play, choking, dark!Az, p in v, language, pet names, praise/degradation, i probably forgot something but seriously this is dark

Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: this is a *mostly* REPOST from my old tumblr @azshighlady. (I had to do some editing because I lost part of it, so some of it is new for those of you who read it before!) Unfortunately, this is the only fanfic from that tumblr that was saved.. but this was the first Az smut I ever wrote, so I wanted to share it on here!

Enjoy!

The dungeons of the Hewn City were unusually cold, and the growls of the beasts that dwelled below could be heard echoing along the walls. From above, you could hear the denizens of the Court of Nightmares drinking and laughing, totally oblivious to what was about to happen below them.

You shifted in the chair, trying to ignore the goosebumps that had appeared on your skin because of the chill in the air. You were only wearing a thin piece of lingerie, something that your mate had laid out for you. It was a black teddy, with thin straps connected across your shoulders, leading down to the completely see-through lace that barely covered your breasts and stomach. Your favorite part of it was the fact that it was crotchless.

Easy access, you thought to yourself.

You leaned back, wondering how much longer before Azriel would appear. He loved this game. He loved making you wait for him, keeping you on edge. His patience was infinite, and he was a master at torturing you with pleasure. Despite your whining and complaining, the wait was always worth it.

While you waited, you thought back to the conversation that led you here in the first place. It happened a few weeks ago while the two of you were eating dinner at home.

“I want to try something,” you said, looking at Azriel with scheming eyes. You were nervous to bring up this fantasy, scared that he would object. But your mate always did what he could to make you happy, sometimes even at the expense of himself.

Azriel smiled, noting the look in your eyes. “Oh, do tell, my love,” he said. “This sounds like it will be interesting.”

You stood and walked over to him, plopping yourself down in his lap. His scarred hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. “I want you to take me into your dungeon and play with me,” you whispered, trying to fight the blush that crept onto your cheeks. You looked up at him through your lashes, reading his expression.

He was silent, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. You immediately regretted bringing it up. Torturing and working in the dungeons was his job, what he did to protect his court. It would make sense if he did not want to bring that into his personal life, especially his life with you.

You pulled away, meaning to stand. “I’m sorry,” you muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

His grip on you tightened, holding you in place. “No, don’t apologize. I’m just surprised,” he admitted. He gripped your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to scare you, love.”

You smiled at him, leaning your forehead against his. “You never scare me, Az. I love you, and I trust you. I want this. I want you, all of you. Darkness and all.”

Azriel had agreed after that, promising that he would do this for you. The conversation had been mostly forgotten, or so you thought. You had been surprised earlier when you had walked into the bedroom and noticed the lingerie on the bed with a note that said, The Spymaster requests your presence in his dungeon. Do not be late.

That had been hours ago. Hours of you sitting here, waiting, ignoring the growing wetness between your legs from the anticipation of what was to come. You started to wonder if he had forgotten or changed his mind.

You were about to stand to leave, thinking it was best to forget about this stupid fantasy when the shadows in the room started to move, growing thicker and darker. You sat back down, knowing your mate was here.

He appeared from the shadows, his hazel eyes glowing in the darkness. He was dressed in his leathers, and you noted how perfectly they molded to his muscled body. He flared his wings proudly before tucking them in and walking over to you. As he moved, you noticed Truth-Teller strapped to his thigh, the obsidian hilt gobbling up the shadows and darkness around.

“Did you get impatient, pet?” he asked in the voice that had no doubt broken countless enemies. There was no kindness or love in his tone or on his face. This was the shadowsinger, the feared Spymaster of the Night Court. The male who had fought in countless battles and won them all. The male who brought enemies to their knees and who had charmed allies. The male who was your mate.

How did you get so fucking lucky?

You bowed your head, lacing your hands in your lap. “No, sir,” you whispered. “I just needed to stretch my legs.”

Azriel hummed to himself, and you could feel his eyes raking every inch of your body. “My shadows tell me otherwise. They’ve been watching you, and it seems you thought you were going to get up and leave.” He clicked his tongue. “Bad prisoners get punished for disobeying my orders.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you couldn’t deny the thrill and excitement of this, of him. “My apologies, sir. It won’t happen again.”

He leaned forward, and you could feel his breath in your ear. “Do you remember your safe words?” he whispered, his voice like shadows given sound.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He chucked darkly. “Let’s play then, pet.”

He gripped your thighs in his hands, spreading them open. “You’re already so wet for me, and I haven’t even touched you. So needy for me.”

His shadows crept up your legs, moving across your pussy. You throw your head back, letting out a moan that echoed along the stone walls. They danced along your clit, and you could feel your wetness dripping onto the chair and down your inner thighs. “Please, sir. Please touch me.” He had kept you waiting for so long, and your need for him was driving you crazy.

“You’re in my dungeon. You’re my prisoner. I will decide when I want to touch you. Understood?” he said, digging his finger into your skin for emphasis. He was gripping you so tight you knew there would be marks on your skin the next day.

Good. You love it when he marks you. Claims you.

You felt his shadows move, wrapping around your thighs. They tightened around them, and you realized they were holding your legs open. You tried to move them, but they had a firm grip. You were open and bare for your mate, and Azriel took in your body with a predatory hunger in his eyes.

"So pretty, wrapped up in my shadows," he murmured to himself as he reached down to pull Truth-Teller from where it was sheathed at his thigh. "I bet you will look even prettier when I fuck you with this."

Slowly, he ran the hilt of the blade through your cunt, covering it with your wetness. You cried out as he pushed it in, loving the feeling of the ridges along your walls. "Y-yes," you gasped.

Azriel began to thrust the blade in harshly. "Do you know how many people cower in fear when they see this blade?" he asked, his voice low. "How many people have lost their lives to it? But here you are.. being fucked by it. Such a dirty girl."

You were beyond words, totally focused on the feeling of the cold metal moving inside of you. You began to feel the early waves of your climax begin to build, and your legs started shaking.

"I want you to cum on my knife," he whispers, leaning down to bite your earlobe. "I want this to be covered in your scent so everyone knows who I belong to." He pushed it in as deep as it could go, and you moaned as waves of pleasure washed over you. "That's it, pet. Make a mess on my knife."

He pulled the blade out and pressed the tip against your lips. "Open," he commanded. "Clean it up."

You licked the metal, groaning at the taste of yourself. When he was satisfied with your work, he sheathed Truth-Teller once again at his thigh. His eyes darkened, and you gasped as you felt his shadows move up, wrapping themselves around your wrists. They lifted you out of the chair, securing themselves on a beam somewhere far above your head. The shadows around your thighs tightened as they spread your legs open more.

You were hanging in his dungeon, bound by his shadows, completely at his mercy.

Azriel settled himself between your thighs as he quickly opened his trousers. He grabbed you by the throat, squeezing softly. "I won't be gentle."

You nodded. "I don't want gentle."

He smirked, pushing his cock inside of you in one powerful thrust. You threw your head back, your arms straining against the shadows. He set a brutal pace, and you cry out at the feeling of his balls slapping against you.

"Fuck, yes!" you moan. "Just like that." His cock hit the deepest parts of you, causing your eyes to roll back. More of his shadows began to touch you, teasing your clit. You let out a moan that sounded inhuman as you came again, spilling your essence all over yourself and Azriel.

His thrusts became erratic, totally wild, and unchecked. He groaned as he came, spilling himself into your womb. He kept thrusting, making sure nothing leaked out. "Gotta fill you up," he murmured.

He hated when he cum leaked out of you.

For a few moments after, the only sound that could be heard in the quiet dungeon was your ragged breaths. His shadows released you, and you immediately wrap your arms around his neck. He held you against him, keeping your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

His eyes were no longer full of lust. Now, they had lightened to their normal hazel, and they were full of love. "Are you alright? Was that alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

You giggled, leaning forward to kiss him. "That was amazing, my love. You are amazing."

Azriel was your mate, your love, your friend. It had always been the two of you against the world, and that's how it always would be. He was yours and you were his, and you accepted every part of him.

His darkness could never scare you.

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[t00muchheart]

It’s just that, in Faith, Dean thinks he’s going to die, and he’s braced for it, and when he lives, it’s only because someone else died in his place. And then, in In My Time of Dying, it happens again, and it’s even worse this time because that’s his father who died for him. So by the time All Hell Breaks Loose rolls around, of course Dean sacrifices himself: he’s already living on borrowed time, after all, but Sam? Sam is only here because he was dragged back into this life—he deserves to have the chance to leave it behind again, for good this time.

And sure, faced with the consequences, Dean can see that he doesn’t deserve it—not to die, and certainly not to go to hell—but he still believes that it’s better this way: better him than Sam, even if it would be best if it was no one at all.

But it has to be someone, and so Dean is dragged to hell, and after thirty years on the rack, Dean breaks—and after ten more, when he wakes up in his grave and pushes his way to the surface, he thinks that maybe he deserved it after all, maybe he deserved every bit of torture dealt to him and more.

And then he meets an angel, and the angel tells him that he was the one to raise him from hell, and the angel wonders at the fact that Dean doesn’t think he deserves to be saved, because even after everything, he sees something beautiful in Dean Winchester, something worth preserving. And the angel believes in Dean so much that he can’t help but start believing in himself again, just a little.

[reputationolivia]

get him back!!

Warnings: minors dni, smut, unprotected sex, slight manipulation, driving under the influence (kinda), lowkey asshole harry, toxic relationship.

summary: where y/n & harry are broken up but she decides to hit him up after a while. inspired by olivia rodrigo’s “get him back” + my personal experiences bc i’m stupid 😚 (basically me romanticizing what i went thru & adding harry + added details for entertainment/plot)

word count: i forgot oops

“should i just text him?” you ask your two friends as you spin around on your barstool, knowing they would disagree but hoping they would convince you it was a good idea somehow. “absolutely not y/n! you know it never ends well. you know this.” melany says as liz turns around looking at you like you’re insane, and you might just be if your considering reaching out to him after what he did to you. “i really don’t think you should do that y/n, he always hurts you, and you always go back to him anyway.” what they said is true, you can admit that. you look down at your nails that are chipping from picking at them, feeling shame.

you know he always leaves you, every time. you always give him the benefit of the doubt. you always forgive him. you always make excuses for him. and you two always go back to each other, it never ends well, you always know how it will and, and yet you always do it anyway. you felt such a strong emotional connection like you’d never had with anyone, you weren’t a very open person by any means, but there was just something about him, something that made you open up to him, something that just made you feel like you were on top of the world when you were with him. you didn’t know what it was, but you knew he felt the same about you, even if he was always sabotaging it. there was an invisible force that just pulled you two together, that brought you back to each other.

you just couldn’t decide if that was actually for the better though. because no matter how strong your connection was, how amazing you felt when you two were together and on good terms, there was also no one who had broken your heart quite as hard and as often as he has. and yet. here you were about to text him. you knew you’d regret this as you were typing out your message against your friends wishes, and your better judgment.

“hey, it’s been a while…” you send him the message, immediately putting your phone away in your small purse, not telling your friends about what you’ve just done, part of you thinks he might not respond, and you’d be better for it in all honestly. but the other part of you couldn’t help but hope he’d respond.

the night went on, you had a couple of drinks & tried not to think about your message to harry. jared and michael eventually showed up, liz and melany’s boyfriends who also just happened to be friends of harry’s. you haven’t checked your phone since you put it away, part of you already regretting it but also wondering weather he’s responded yet or not. i’d be even responded that is. you greeted both jared and michael with a side hug “where’s harry?” michael (the closer one to harry) asked you as he gave you a side hug. you were confused to say the least, why was he asking you? “uhm i’ve no idea, why?” you ask him, curious of why he would even think he would be here.

“i told him i was coming here to meet up with melany and he mentioned something about stopping by, i thought he’d be here by now” confused, you looked back at him from your stool with a questioning look “i thought you two made up no?” he asked. “actually i kind of messaged him earlier but i haven’t checked my phone at all since so i don’t really know if you can call that ‘making up’.” you slightly cringed at your actions. he gave you a shrug, turning to melany as you turned to find your phone in your pocketbook and finally check your messages. “i’m coming to see you.” you read over the message over and over again like it was going to disappear. 30 minutes ago it said. you continued working on your drink suddenly nervous, he could be here any minute now. surely he’s figured out where you were from michael and you couldn’t blame michael, he haden’t known any better.

the thing about you two was that no matter how long you’ve gone without speaking (longest has been 8 months) once you were together in each others presence again it was like nothing happened, like no time had passed at all, like him being here now made up for all the hurt he’d caused in the past. it was kind of toxic you should admit, but you’d deny that to anyone who would point it out. you just couldn’t help but act normal, like nothing happened, but maybe it was for the best? probably not as there was much you two had to talk about but that conversation was always avoided.

you were on the dance floor with liz, moving to the beat of the music when he walked in, you didn’t notice him at first - too busy dancing, or more so just jumping up and down with liz. he walked over to michael, melany, and jared were, giving melany a nod and michael and jared one of those weird bro-hug things. suddenly you saw him, and it was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs and like a breath of fresh air all at the same time. he began walking over to you and you excused yourself from liz as you headed in his direction as well, meeting him halfway across. looking up at him once you were in front of him you felt your nerves spike a bit as he looked down on you intensely. it was always excruciating before one of you said anything to each other for the first time again. still looking deeply at you “hey baby, how’ve y’been?” he asks. “been alright” you say “kinda been thinking ‘bout you a little” you can’t help but add. he smirks at you “kinda?” he asks, still smiling, “you know i have h” you respond, “‘s what i like to hear, been missing you a lot too.” he speaks before leaning over, kissing you sweetly and it’s like fireworks erupting, like everything is finally right in the world. you knew your relationship with him was toxic, but you didn’t care, not anymore. you loved him too much to care about that anymore.

you two continued making out for a little, his hands dropping to your waist as your hands made their way to the back of his neck linking together. you eventually pulled away, in much need of some air as he rested his forehead on yours. his green eyes looked at yours with a slight twinkle in them and a piece of you hoped it would be different this time, you always did. he smiled down at you as he separated his forehead from yours, standing up straight now. “let’s go get a drink yeah?” he asks you and you nod as he takes your hand in yours and leads you to the booth your friends had decided to switch to once they saw harry arrive after michael and jared in order to have more room. harry slides into the booth after you and you feel melany’s stare on you, you initially avoid eye contact but eventually decide to look back at her as she gives you a pointed look and you shrug in response, not knowing what to say.

•••

you lay your head below harry’s shoulder after finishing your most recent drink, harry bring his arm up and wraps it around your shoulders at that and takes a swig of his beer (something more “lightweight”) with his other hand. melany rolls her eyes at this and you can’t blame her but you also can’t find it in you to care. she gets up with michael to dance, leaving you and harry alone in the booth, you look up at him, your head still resting on his chest and he leans down, kissing you. you smile into the kiss, feeling it deepen and soon enough you two are in a full make out session, unable to keep your hands off each other. your hands in his hair as he continued to kiss you so deeply while holding you tight as if you’d disappear. “we should get out of here” you say between kisses, wanting to be with him to more private space so you could do more. “yours or mine?” he asks.

you’re in his car now heading to yours, he opened your door and made sure you were buckled in before heading over to his side and hopping in the drivers seat “are you sure you’re okay to drive?” you ask him, you’d offer to drive yourself but you were equally as wasted, if not more. “i’m alright babe, we can take an uber if you’d feel better about it.” stopping his right hand from turning the ignition, he looks to you awaiting your response. “no im okay, it’s okay. i trust you.” he smiles, leaning over to kiss you briefly before turning the key and starting the car before pulling away and onto the street. the streets are completely empty due to the late hour, it’s so rare to see such empty streets in the city. harry rests his hand on your knee as he controls the steering wheel with his other, beginning to go slightly above the speed limit, you didn’t really mind it though. he continued going faster, and faster until you were very well over the speed limit but somehow still, you felt safe. you didn’t really care what happened when you were with him as long as it was with him.

the wind was in your hair as the top was down, his right hand placed on your thigh as you breezed through the motorway, harry going around the few cars there were with ease. finally you pull up to the car park of your apartment complex, you unbuckle your seatbelt as he does the same, immediately exiting the car before rounding it to open your door for you. despite all the miscommunication and heartbreak he was always such a gentleman. your hand in his, you dash to the elevators and once the doors close he’s immediately pushing you against the wall before attaching his lips to your neck just below your jaw. he’s sucking lightly against the skin of your neck as your hands once again find themselves in his hair, tugging it lightly causing him to groan against your neck. the elevator dings as the doors open to your floor, he brings his lips to yours as the two of you begin to make out as you blindly make your way to your door and unlock your door.

you finally make it inside as you make your way to your bedroom and he pushes you back as he makes his way on top of you, tugging at your shirt you break the kiss to lift your shirt over your head but his lips are back on yours as soon as your top is out of the way as your fingers fumble with his zipper. you finally get his trousers undone and he lifts himself off you to pull them off, taking the time to pull his shirt off as well, leaving him just in his boxers as you take this time to slide your mini skirt off as well. you sit up as he makes his way back to you, lips back on yours as he unhooks your bra and slides it off effortlessly, he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as his hands drop down to your waist and he gives you a quick kiss before pulling back to get a better look at you.

“you’re so fucking beautiful baby.” he takes a hand to your tit, massaging it slowly before pushing you onto your back as his hands come to your hips and his fingers hook on either side of your panties before slowly dragging them down your legs. you split your legs open slightly as he throws your underwear into the growing pile on the floor, making his way back to you, one hand on the bed to keep his balance as the other finds its way to your breasts while he makes his way from your lips to your jaw, and neck. you can feel him through his boxers, pressing against you as you begin to grind against him. “please h, i need you.” you hook your fingers into his boxers and begin pulling them down as he finishes removing them once you couldn’t pull them down any further. “tell me what you need y/n, i’ll give you anything you ask me for.” he says as he looks into your eyes with so much sincerity, you almost can’t help but wonder if he truly means that. outside of the bedroom or if he’s just caught up in the heat of the moment. you decide not to think about that for the time being.

“need you inside of me, please h.” you say as he nods and places both of his hands on your hips as you spread your legs open and he aligns himself against you, you can practically feel his tip at your entrance. he takes his right hand off your hip and uses it to drag his tip along your slit, teasing you a bit before pushing in, slowly stretching you out. it felts so good to have him back inside of you, he was so long and thick, you couldn’t help but moan out at the feeling as he let out a breath above you. “oh fuck, you feel so good baby, you’re so tight for me.” he practically wants to roll his eyes to the back of his head at the feeling of your tight cunt sucking him in as he begins moving slowly, almost a bit overwhelmed at the feeling of being inside you, completely raw. “go a little faster h.” you say as he picks up his pace, and his right arm makes its way around your neck, squeezing it lightly.

“oh fuck you feel so fucking good baby.” he says as he picks up his pace even more “fuck i missed this, missed you so fucking much.” the sound of skin slapping fills the room and he’s going so hard and fast that you can’t keep your mouth shut and become a moaning mess. “y’know theres not a day i don’t think about you baby?” he says as he moves his hand from your neck to your breasts. “think about you everyday, how stupid i am for letting you go every time.” he’s pounding into you roughly now, hitting your g-spot with every thrust as you moaned in complete pleasure, yet your brain also working overtime to manage thinking about what he’s saying whilst completely railing into you mercilessly.

“h please don’t, don’t say these things. not if you don’t mean them.” you say between breaths. “i mean they baby, i’ve been so stupid letting you go. i promise ill do better if you give me another chance, you’re all i want.” he’s now rocking into you at a rough pace, his hand back around your neck making you feel dizzy and full of pleasure all while still thinking of his words. the sound of his balls slapping against you as he buries himself deep into you. “fuck i’m gonna cum.” you say as he brings his hand down to your clit and you can’t help but to let go, your orgasm hitting you hard. “oh fuck baby, feels so good. squeeze my cock so good, i’m gonna cum.” he continues thrusting into you as he cums inside of you, fucking you through your high until you’re both settled. he rests his arms on either side of you, still inside of you as he looks into your eyes and leans down to kiss you.

“please give me another chance baby, you’re the love of my life, i want to be the person you deserve.” he says with sincerity but you can’t help to wonder if he actually means it, i mean sure when he’s asked for forgiveness in the past he did mean what he said, at the time. but over time things would change, priorities would shift and you’d end up back at square one. but you just couldn’t say no to him, you never could and part of you hated yourself for that. you knew you were just setting yourself up for heartbreak but you just couldn’t stop yourself no matter how much you wish you could because it destroyed you every time. “okay.”

“really? you’ve just made me so happy my love. thank you so much, i promise i won’t let you down this time.” that much you didn’t know.

•••

harry was sleeping, he ended up staying the night. i guess last nights events tired him out but you? you were wide awake, couldn’t sleep.

eventually you gave up on trying to catch any sleep, thoughts of harry and your relationship working overtime on your mind. you side up and grab your pack of cigarettes, a habit you picked up from your father, and head out into your balcony. sitting down on a chair as you light your cigarette. you bring your legs to your chest as you inhale your first puff and memories of you and harry’s past relationship come to mind, all the great times hit also all the lies, the arguments, the secrets. you couldn’t help but cry.

you loved him so much, when your relationship was good it was really good, but when it was bad? it was really bad. sure if something went wrong this time you’d have no one to blame but yourself. after all you were the fool that kept giving him chance after chance and he always made the same mistakes. every time things ended between you two it destroyed you. after everything was over you were just a shell of yourself, your friends were always concerned about you afterwards.

you knew you were just hurting yourself at this point honestly, but you just couldn’t help but give him another opportunity because you would always cling onto the good times with him, always remember the great times you had and how good he could be to you. you were pathetic honestly, crying in your balcony while he slept peacefully in your bedroom after you’ve given him yet another chance. you really hope it’s different this time, that he’ll really change but deep down you know he won’t and it’ll end the same as it does every time, it will destroy you again and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

•••

little psa that i DO NOT encourage these kinds of relationships!! if you’re in a similar situation pls know you’re not alone 🫶🏻

[miasmaghoul]

Considering the idea of quintessence ghouls being able to make themselves invisible. They can just sort of...shimmer out of view if they focus their power enough. Like how Swiss can melt into shadow, quintessence ghouls can bend and fold light to vanish themselves. Not an ability they make common knowledge, of course, but they all use it in different ways.

Imagine Omega, always at Terzo's side even when he can't be seen. A protector, a stalwart and silent companion devoted to keeping his beloved Papa safe from any who would dare to threaten. It makes them think that Terzo has power beyond what any Papa has had before - how else could you explain someone being thrown across a room with no more than a wave of his gloved hand? It's exhausting for Omega, requires a bit of a recovery period, but that's alright. Terzo cares for him in the aftermath every time, just as devoted to his ghoul as Omega is to his Papa. The only other person who knows of this skill is Sister Imperator, and Omega likes to keep it that way.

Imagine Aether, learning the same trick from his mentor but using it more to keep himself sane. It's not something he does frequently, he finds it incredibly draining and has too many responsibilities to make it a common occurrence. But some days the abbey is just too loud, and there's nowhere for him to go without being pestered by siblings, clergy members and anyone else who's decided they need his attention. So he just...disappears for a while. He could be sitting on the couch plain as day and no one would be the wiser. It's incredibly freeing, on the rare occasion he puts it to use. He does it even less post-retirement, most of his magickal resources poured into healing others, but once in a while he'll still indulge. Sneak off to the library for a quiet cup of tea and dissappear between the stacks for a bit. Copia, Dew and Aeon always know where to find him, though - but they don't go searching. They all know that, if Aether needs isolation, there is no reason to interrupt.

Aeon, though, is a different breed of quint.

Curious as a kitten and with more power than he knows what to do with, he frequently uses his invisibility for more nefarious purposes. Sneaks into the human wing for panty raids, scours the kitchens when he gets too high but has already hit his snack quota, even wanders into the parts of the abbey that are off-limits to everyone but the higher-ups.

His favorite thing, though, is his ability to be a nasty little freak with no one being the wiser. It makes him the worst sort of voyeur, sneaky and with no regard for privacy. He peeps on everyone, through cracked doorframes, keyholes and open windows, in plain sight but still unseen.

One day, mid-afternoon, he hears a familiar series of soft but drawn out moans. Aeon cloaks himself immediately, already chubbing up and giving himself a shameless grope. It's not like anyone can see, after all. He pads down the hall to find Rain's door halfway open, those lovely sounds pouring through the gap. It's accompanied by what can only be called a rhythmic squelching sound, and Aeon licks his lips as he peeks around the doorframe.

Where he finds Rain, knelt in front of the ornate floor-length mirror that lives by his closet, naked as the day he was summoned and flushed right down his pale chest. He moves like water, spread thighs tensing and relaxing as he rides what Aeon recognizes as one of Swiss' preferred dildos. Rain has his tail wrapped around the base, hands free to explore every inch of himself. He's beautiful always, but like this - admiring his own reflection while pinching his lovely pink nipples, elegant fingers tracing the lines of his own throat, sliding down to give his cock slow pulls that have him leaking a puddle onto the hardwood floor - Rain isn't just beautiful. He's lust itself, sin incarnate, and Aeon has to get closer.

He leans just inside the door, in a warm patch of sunlight that paints Rain in golden hues. Hard as a rock and pulsing in his boxers, Aeon presses the heel of his hand to his crotch and starts to hump. Matches the rolls of his hips to Rain's slow bounces, picturing his own cock sliding into that slick hole and biting his lip when a soft moan threatens to escape. He may be unseen, but he can certainly still be heard.

Rain's clearly been at this for a while, judging by the sweat glistening along his brow and making his luscious curls stick to the back of his neck, and soon enough he starts to bounce faster. Little punched out grunts fill the air, the slick sound of his hand and hole making Aeon's balls ache, and he feels himself drool down his chin when Rain gasps. Leans back on one hand so he can sink down fully onto that thick toy, getting it deep inside, just where he needs it. He's panting, hand flying over his cock, and Aeon has to lean harder against the wall lest his own knees give out.

With a half dozen more tugs, Rain's mouth drops open and they both watch him squirt his load all over that shiny surface. Aeon's right there with him, biting his knuckles until he tastes iron as he soaks a stain into his undies. He shivers through it, eyes crossing, cussing to himself when he watches Rain reach out to drag two fingers through the mess he made. With a soft chuckle he licks it up, sighing happily, and Aeon lets his eyes slip shut while he catches his breath.

"Want a taste?"

Aeon's eyes shoot open, jaw going tense, and in slow motion he watches the shadows in the corner by the window coalesce into something solid.

Swiss leisurely strides over to the mirror, the bulge in his jeans incredibly obvious, and takes hold of Rain's wrist. Laps up the last drops dribbling down his fingers as Rain leans in to nuzzle at his straining cock. Swiss' rusty purr kicks up as he sinks his own fingers into Rain's hair, scratching at his sweaty nape.

"Did such a good job, angelfish," Swiss lilts, Rain's tail giving a happy little swish as it unwinds from the dildo still inside him. "You just love bein' watched, huh?"

Rain hums his agreement, lazily mouthing at the thick outline of Swiss through his pants. Wraps an arm around his thigh so he can really rub his face all over it. Aeon heaves a silent sigh of relief; as much as he would love to watch Rain swallow Swiss down, he's all sticky in his shorts and getting less and less comfy as the moments pass. He straightens up, lets the debaucherous sight of the pair of them burn itself into his brain, and finally tiptoes back towards the hall.

"Leaving so soon?"

Aeon freezes, whole body flushing hot and cold at Swiss' words. It takes him a thousand years to look back over his shoulder, and he finds golden eyes sparkling with intent fixed on his invisible form. Aeon gawps at him, and Swiss grins. Rain doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, dragging his tongue up Swiss' fly.

"You're not as slick as you think, kid," Swiss chuckles, dark and with just enough of an edge to give Aeon goosebumps. Rain giggles, crooks a finger at his hidden form, and Aeon whimpers.

"Who else knows?" His voice cracks when he asks, and Swiss barks out a laugh.

"Lock the door and get over here," Swiss orders him in lieu of an answer, "but I don't want to see you until that cute little dick is nice and hard again."

Oh, he's in so much trouble.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

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

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

[sparksandstarsandstories]

@garecc and I are having an argument so weigh in

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[t00thpasteface]

everything i've said about hating (or, more accurately, not giving a flying fuck about) out-of-universe Word Of God amendments to a work of fiction by the creatives involved in its development DOES NOT APPLY to william christopher saying father mulcahy was "more or less" celibate. that gets a pass from me because it is (1) enticingly vague and therefore (2) extremely funny. (slams my gavel down on my desk so hard it knocks my fountain pen stand over)

[pursuitseternal]

“The Third Day” in “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” just sweet smut, rough smut, and Batstarion 🦇🔥

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 2K 🔥smut

Thank you @zyana-wyvern for the sexy staring screenshot 💞

Summary: A night spent drinking in the tavern below lands you back in your room, belly aching from the wine, other part of you aching for… him. Only you find yourself alone, alone except for a small presence that might just be watching you enjoying your alone time.

CW: female masturbation, fingering, fluffy bat forms, More Chin Scritching™️, getting folded in half and f*cked senseless.

First day | Second day | Ao3 link

🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇

Your head is swimming, your feet stumbling as you climb back up the stairs to your rooms at the Elfsong. You tug at your dress, breathing heavy, wine-laden pants as you poke your head into the common rooms. “Is he… hiccup… back yet?”

“His lordship?” Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “Yes, he’s… somewhere, though he was not quite so equally in his cups as you are, it seems.”

She crosses her arms and throws you that sharp look of judgment.

But your belly is too light with wine to really care. You wave, slurring a goodnight, heading back to your rooms. Of course, it had been a quiet night. One more night of drinking down in the tavern before another grueling day of fighting and gathering allies and being heroes. The wine had been sweet, not quite the same as before you were turned, but still good to your tongue. And now, you had a silly smile on your face and a warmth in your belly only he could satisfy. You push the door open to your private room, craving that tingle of his powerful presence. But you find it dark.

Empty.

But you can feel, sense him, close by. You most likely don’t have long to wait, you think to yourself, settling on the edge of the bed, starting to slink your gown from your shoulders. You shimmy it off, letting your skin finally breathe from under all that fine silk.

Your whole body thrums, just hunger and need. A drive to be sated and filled. Where could he be… you bite your lip, feeling your arousal only growing stronger with his scent in the room now. This must be what it is to be in heat for beasts, to have a need to be fucked only quenched with fulfillment. If only he was here…

Eyes closing, your hand brushes up your own thigh, body shaking as you slide yourself back into the bed. Hands wandering over your belly, your thighs, you let yourself explore this new form. It’s so similar, perhaps brawnier, lean and wiry just like him. To your own touch, your flesh isn’t cold, hard and defined, but not chilling or undead.

Yet, you are equally wet between your thighs at the thought of waiting for his return. What’s the harm, you wonder, letting a single finger reach between your folds to sweep that slick over your clit and rub.

Lighting races down your spine, your body shivers so hard, your fang bites your lower lip in its grasp.

You can smell him, feel his presence near. Close, but not close enough. Drawing near but still not with you. Not inside you. The thought alone makes you tremble more, imagining that slide of his cock inside you, filling you with the memory of its delicious drag and the ghost of its pressure.

A panting moan rises from between your grit fangs. What’s the harm… you’re alone after all.

Heat quickly wraps at the base of your spine, tremors rocking your insides slowly, fire flooding your belly.

So close, so close now. You chase your orgasm with reckless abandon, barely feeling the rush of beating air above you, hardly hearing the woosh of leather wings flapping near your face.

“My, my,” his voice caresses in your ear, right in your ear. Lips rubbing against its curves. “Who knew you had so much arousal within you tonight…”

You shudder at his voice, almost still from the sensation of just his breath, his sound.

“Oh, don’t you dare stop on my account, my treasure…” you feel him settle on the bed beside you, one arm reaching over your shoulders, as your eyes fly open to look into his face.

Hunger—unabashed, unsatisfied hunger incarnate.

“Where…?”

The question doesn’t leave your mouth, not when he softly claps a palm over it. “Ah, ah,” he chides you, “I would feel just awful if you didn’t finish what you started before I so rudely joined you…”

“Then politely join me, my love,” you whisper against his mind, an easy feat to do while he hangs over you, peering with those dark red eyes.

His lips slide into a deeper smirk, his other hand sweeps quickly to join yours, barely catching your fingers as his fingers dive deep between your walls.

You groan, muffled beneath his palm, your nose working extra to catch your breath. Your body thrums and throbs, his fingers pumping in and out, crooking to catch that spot inside you he alone knows of and worships.

It’s too great, the pressure and the pleasure, and then he slides a third finger inside you.

Crying, you shatter, tears of bliss seep from your eyes as they shut, closed tightly as ecstacy wracks your body. Wave after wave, your orgasm consumes you, his fingers still drawing inside, giving your cunt something wonderful to clench around.

At last, your eyes drift open, meeting his own glassy gaze of desire. He seems flushed, aroused. Eager. As if he has been watching and waiting for…

You look at the ceiling above the bed, catching sight of little scratching claw marks that weren’t there. Your mind recalls that soft beating flutter.

“Astarion,” you whisper, dragging his hand from your mouth first to hold it in your own clasp, “I could have sworn I felt you… smelled you… before you just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Ah,” he purrs, so pleased with himself in that single syllable, “you need a demonstration,” he grins, oozing pride. Before your eyes, a mist swirls as you feel him shrink above you. That bat replaces his form, flapping its wings and flipping in a circle a few times before landing on your belly.

You gasp at the contact. Fuzzy and scratching, little claws and softer spots of fur sending ripples of sensation through you.

Then another burst of mist, and he’s suddenly crushing you. Long legs already spread your knees apart, arms braced on either side of your head. His fangs flash in the dim light, so arrogant and proud of his abilities. “I thought I would give you a bit of a surprise tonight, once you returned. Little did I know my little love would be far too eager to wait for even her dearest little fluffy pet to materialize before getting right… into it.”

You raise a finger, sliding it down the ridge of his pointed ear. Its sensitivity instantly makes him shiver on top of you. Crimson eyes flutter shut, mouth pulled apart in pure arousal. But you keep that touch traveling down the cut of his jaw, drawing to a halt only to scritch under his chin.

You feel his cock twitch on your belly, increasingly more erratic and harder the longer you caress him there.

“I do rather like that, you know,” he offers gently. “Two-hundred years of being touched, and no one… no one touched me like that.”

“That’s because no one got the pleasure of petting the Vampire Ascendant in his remarkable transformed form before,” you grin, your fingers raising to continue their gentle scratches in his soft and unruly locks.

“Mmm I do like the sound of that, my treasure,” he purrs, leaning against your touch, eyes still closed to savor the sweet little caresses you make across his skin, through his hair. “Perhaps I could return the favor? Perhaps you have a little itch that needs… scratching?”

“Gods,” you mewl, bucking your hips for any more friction in your folds. He only chuckles as you do it again, your fingers clawing into the back of his neck. But he slides from your hold to grab your knees. His hands fold you into yourself, legs draping over his shoulder, opening yourself up wide and plentiful for his taking. A growl in his throat, Astarion sheathes himself inside you in one, quick and brutal thrust.

The noise you make bounces off that bat-scratched ceiling.

“Better?” he taunts above you, hands at the backs of your thighs as he slowly glides in and out. A rough beginning followed by a slow undulation as he takes you.

You can’t even lift your head, can’t catch a full breath with how he has you bent for his pleasure. But it feels so… divine. Every slick thrust squelches as he takes his time. You try to keep your gaze fixed into his, watching how he drinks in the sight of you, tongue licking his lip, muscles of his shoulder and chest clenching as he fights to keep control of himself.

You open your mouth, letting moan after moan pierce the wet-slapping quiet. You want to make him undone by your sounds alone. Holding nothing back, you make little noises of pleasure with each thrust, feeling that control slipping away as he slides into you faster. “So good,” you keen, his rolling hips now slamming into you. “I want more, my love…”

That… that snaps something inside him, nails biting into the soft flesh of your thighs, languorous thrusts turn to pummel after pummel that smack hard at the end of your channel.

You squirm, almost unsure if you can take it, but you can’t think either, hesitation quickly swallowed by the flashing heat of your climax. Your hands clench into the bedding, senseless noises rip from your throat, until you scream his name.

“Just as cute and ferocious, aren’t you?” he growls, pushing his cock through the clenching waves of your climax, his own thighs washed in the gush of your arousal. “Who’s… chittering… now, my pet?”

His words come out stilted, sputtered and forced between his gritted teeth as you feel him hitching. Hips bucking wildly and hard against your ass as he groans. Seed spurts inside you, leaking from your slit so packed with his cock. A few more thrusts and he stills, a slack jawed, satisfied smirk on his full lips. He grins so wide, you stare at his glinting fangs.

“Have I…” you pant, groaning as his hands ease your legs back down to the bedcovers, “…earned my own chin scratches?”

“Maybe…” he purrs back, sliding his body in the bed, pulling yours to fit snugly against his side. “There is a high standard of what warrants such a reward, I’m sure…”

“Not for you,” you tease, running a single finger along his jawline, tapping your fingertip on the prominent point of his nose.

“Yes, but I am Vampire Ascendant. We can’t be giving out my special reward to everyone, now can we?”

Your hand fists, slamming a punch into his shoulder that makes him feign a whine. “Oww,” he dramatically whimpers, his face suddenly twists into that look of feral, untamed lust. “Oh wait, as a mighty vampire lord now, I can also shrug off blows like they’re nothing, you should know that, my consort…”

You move with preternatural speed to climb on top of him, to grip both hands on his chest and smirk down at him. “I want my rewards,” you tease, letting your head wag to show off your chin.

He easily slips his arms from under your hold. Fingers claw around your neck, just enough grip to tighten your breath. He pulls you quick to his conceited grinning lips. Sucking your lips, those warm little licks of his mouth work his magic on your whole body. You feel it through the haze of need he stokes with his kiss, just the barest little tickles of his fingers under your chin.

It warms something inside you, that dexterous touch caressing that secret little soft spot under your chin. And then you feel his kiss sweep to the side of your neck, fangs grazing you with those little razor points. “One rewarding turn deserves another, wouldn’t you agree?” he purrs beneath your ear.

And you nod, the smallest permission taken to its fullest as he bites and drinks.

With one last stroke of his thumb under your chin to thank you.

[autisticburnham]

Funniest thing Discovery did was the Klingon two dicks reveal. For no reason

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[fandom-hoarder]

brotherwives deleted their fics :( do you know if theyre ok??

I gotta admit, this sent me into a little bit of a panic, checking for v's fic links and getting a 404. I had told myself I need to sit down and download everything in my ao3 history, and yet I didn't.

But I have good news!

brotherwives (aka qprbros, aka v) is ok. I had to check with them to see whether it's ok to say. 😅 They are still on tumblr, in a different fandom, rotating their blorbos; they just needed some space from the constant wank about their particular niche for SamDean. At this time, they don't know if they'll ever come back to spn fandom, but said it is nice to hear how we still think of them. 💜

It just got too disheartening to keep seeing the state of the gencest tag lately, so they deleted.

But on that note: v gave me a link to a zip folder of their fics! If you unzip and open in gdrive, it will load the html files into a converted document. 💜

Link under the cut (if tumblr eats it you can DM me for it)