#How To Follow Commands Without Skipping Any

[betterlifeinoverall-rethabilep]

Fast Quietly With Quite Prayers

First foremost, Prayer is the best weapon Citizens of Nations can arm themselves with. Actually, no weapon is ever sharp likewise to the Holy Bible, with obedience of all the instructions from Commandments. Nevertheless, with all the Commands from Commandments, towards an unbeliever, heathen or either carnal individual, it seems like a fairytale which had never and would never occur. Hence, once…

[astronomysturniolos]

matt sturniolo x gf

surprise surprise

warnings: pet names, p in v, fingering, kissing, hickey placing, kissing

summary: matt is on tour but what happens when you miss him so much you can’t stand not seeing him anymore, and things take a pleasurable turn for you both

—————————————

as i stepped off the plane, excitement bubbled within me like champagne fizzing in a glass. it had been three long months since i last held him, kissed him, felt the warmth of his embrace. but now, the moment was finally here. i could hardly contain my eagerness as i made my way through the bustling airport, my heart pounding in anticipation of our reunion.

the thought of surprising him on tour had kept me going during those lonely nights without him. i had planned every detail, from coordinating with laura, to double checking my arrival remained a secret. the element of surprise was crucial. i wanted to see the shock and joy in his eyes when he laid eyes on me after all this time.

as I approached the venue, my heart fluttered with nervous excitement. would he be thrilled to see me, or would he be caught off guard? doubts crept into my mind, but i brushed them aside, focusing on the overwhelming love and longing that fueled my determination to make this moment unforgettable. checking my appearance in my phone camera, adjusting my hair, and walking into the doors.

with a shaky breath, i waited backstage, hidden from view, as the minutes ticked by like eternity. every sound made me jump with anticipation, imagining that each footstep belonged to him. and then, finally, the moment arrived. i caught a glimpse of him through the curtain, and my heart skipped a beat.

he stepped onto the stage, his presence commanding the attention of the crowd. my eyes drank in the sight of him, the way his eyes sparkled under the stage lights, the familiar curve of his smile making me already blush. the way his tattoos were enhanced by the spotlight focused on him, and his veins moving everytime he put the mic to his mouth. honestly i didn’t know how much longer i could last without his hands roaming my body.

and then, as if on cue, our eyes met as he glanced to his side, seeing me behind the curtains. time seemed to stand still as recognition dawned on his face, followed by disbelief, then unbridled joy. he has to keep calm because of his fans, but his eyes showed me how much he wanted to run and hug me in the moment.

after the show everyone gave us alone time in the bus. reunited at last. and as he enveloped me in his arms, whispering words of love and gratitude, his hands grazed my ass. warmth already growing in my core. “i missed you so much baby” he whines, still gripping my ass with his head in my neck. “i missed you too matt” i giggle, running my hands through his hair.

“but honestly” i start, as he pulls his head up to make eye contact with me. motioning for me to continue “i think you need to show me just how much you missed me” i say, bringing my hands to his arms, tracing his tattoos.

“oh yeah?” he teases, titling his head at me. and his eyes, piercing through me. i can’t control myself any longer. i nod and instantly attack his lips, like their water and im in a drought. our tongues battling for dominance, even though he always wins.

we walk to the couch never disconnecting from each other, and he towers over me as i’m laid down, my arms keeping me slanted upwards. he starts trailing kisses down my neck. “please matt” i whine, needing him so badly. “what baby, you need something?” he teases, feeling the smile grow on his face against my neck, along with the hickeys already growing. “need you please” i manage to say, my core so hot it can start a fire. “your wish is my command princess” he says before taking his shirt off.

he tugs at the bottom of my pink let’s trip 5 mil shirt, “can i take this off” he asks, as if it is even a question. all i do is nod as he quickly removes it, smiling when he sees i have no bra on. “so perfect baby, just for me hm?” he asks and i just hum in response.

he fumbles with his jeans as i remove mine as well, now we are both just in our underwear, and as i try to take mine off he stops me, taking his thumb on my clit and rubbing circles. a moan slips out my mouth as he continues “you like this, me rubbing on u huh?” he asks, i just nod in reply, but that isn’t enough for him. “use your words gorgeous” he says, still rubbing circles, occasionally sticking a finger inside my underwear. “yes matt. yes.” i say out of breathe.

he rips my underwear off my hips and take his finger and puts it in my pussy and holy fuck did i miss him. his veiny long fingers pushing in and out of me. i groan in pleasure as he continues. “so good matt. so soo good” i ramble, feeling him stick another finger in. still thrusting in and out of me mumbling words of affirmation every couple seconds.

after im finally stretched out enough, i put my hand on his wrist. making him stop, and “i need your dick matt. right now.” comes out of my mouth without warning, and he immediately starts fumbling with his underwear, finally taking it off and holy fucking shit. i forgot how big he was.

he aligns it at my hole, looking at me and i give him a nod of approval. he puts the tip in slowly and we both let out a breathe of relief. he keeps going until he bottoms out and he just lays on top of my for a minute, catching his breathe.

without warning he starts pounding into me, pulling almost fully out before going in again. and i think im seeing stars. this is probably the best sex me and him have had yet. his chain dangling in my face and the sweat dripping onto my nose from his, making me wanna just soak up every ounce of him. he hits the one spot where i let out a pornographic moan, him continuing onto that spot until i feel my release creep onto me.

“i’m close matt” i say, barely audible from all the pleasure. “same.” he breathes out. his thrusts getting sloppy and we hit our highs at the same time. “im coming. shit. i’m coming matt” i repeat, my ears beginning to ring. “me too baby, me too” he says, riding out our highs.

once we finished we just look at eachother and giggle. then my eyes glance to the stove, the clock saying it has been an hour that we have been in here and everyone else is bound to come in any second. “shit matt, it’s been an hour, we have to clean up” i say worried, and he just laughs, “don’t worry baby, there are more problems.” he says, and i look at him confused. i hurriedly get up getting the hint and check the mirror. there are 2 purple spots on my neck.

“matt.” i deadpan in the mirror, looking at him as he just smirks knowingly. “whattt” he says, wrapping his hands around my waist. before i have time to answer the door burst open and chris walks in. “ew, get a room” he says with a look of disgust on his face, going straight to the bunks. me and matt laughing as everyone else follows him inside.

—————————————

anna speaks: this is ur time to yell at me im sorry i haven’t writing or even posted in a while but school is kicking my ass but i’m gonna try n be more active!!😜😜

[mpileons]

i can see you | leah williamson x reader  

Summary: based on this request

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: alludes to smut but no actual smut

> also my requests are open :))

The air cackles with anticipation as I make my way through the familiar corridors of the Emirates. The red and white stadium quickly became my home ever since I got hired as a sports photographer for the Arsenal Women’s team a few years ago.

Match days, like today, have always been a forefront centre for a whirlwind of excitement and nerves, this energy buzzing in the air quickly reminding me of how much I adore my job.

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don't think I can see ya, do ya? I've been watchin' you for ages and I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

As I round a corner, my heart skips a beat in anticipation of the person I see, Leah Williamson. Her presence, I have noticed, commands attention at all times without any perceivable effort. She quickly brushes past me in the hallway, repeating one of our many fleeting interactions that never fails to send a jolt of electricity through my veins.

I pretend not to notice, and instead focus on adjusting my camera settings, playing around with the aperture and such while waiting for the rest of the players to file in. However, I cannot deny how my eyes always seem to catch hers. How her hair always looks impossibly soft, her eyes incredibly inviting to anyone lucky enough to catch a glimpse into them.

There's something incredibly magnetic about her that I, for the life of me, cannot explain. Something that draws me in like a moth to a flame. And yet, all my best efforts and countless hours have been spent trying to ignore the pull, burying my feelings beneath layers of professionalism.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

But today, as she glides past me, the mere touch sending shivers down my spine, I can't help but wonder—what would she do if she knew? What would she do if I reached out and touched her now, if I confessed the longing that I have spent months burying?

But for now, I keep my gaze steady, my expression neutral, as I try to navigate the maze of emotions swirling within me. But match day is speeding up, and there's an enormous amount of work to be done and no time left for day dreaming.

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me and I could see you up against the wall with me and what would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you.

I finish taking the team’s matchday pictures and begin packing up all my camera equipment. In the corner of my eye, I see the girls beginning to leave the stadium. 

With a subtle tilt of my head, I gesture toward a secluded alcove just around the corner from the entrance to the pitch. It's a risky move, but this forbidden tension is too good to resist. I see the flicker of uncertainty in Leah's eyes, mingled with a spark of curiosity. Does she sense the same magnetic pull that draws me toward her?

Without a word, she follows my lead, her steps measured yet purposeful. The corridor narrows as we approach the alcove, the walls closing in around us like a cocoon of secrecy. My heart pounding in my chest as I wait for her to join me.

And then she's there, mere inches away, her presence overwhelming in its intensity. I can feel the heat radiating from her body. Our eyes lock in a silent exchange, a silent conversation filled with unspoken anticipation.

In that moment, with her pressed against the wall, time seems to stand still, the world seemingly fading into the background. I reach out carefully, my fingertips grazing her jawline with feather-light caresses. The touch of her skin sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me.

With a shaky breath, I close the distance between us, my lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss. It's an impulsive and fleeting moment, yet it doesn't fail to ignite a fire between us. Our bodies press against each other, consumed by a hunger that I didn't know was reciprocated. I snake my hands further down her waist in an attempt to pull her closer, yet she pulls away and whispers “Same time next week?” with a smirk as she pushes off the wall and runs off back to the team, leaving me completely and utterly dumbfounded. 

And we kept everything professional. But something's changed, it's somethin' I, I like.

A few days have passed since our reckless and rushed initial kiss. To say that that moment has replayed in my head a million times a day is an understatement. It has truly taken over my brain, thoughts of her, her perfect face and her perfectly filled lips consume me day in and day out. 

Yet, amidst my racing thoughts, I can sense that something has shifted between Leah and I, an unspoken understanding that exceeds the boundaries of professionalism. It's subtle, but it's there.

The sound of Sarina’s voice pulls me out of the mini day dream I was in, reminding me that I needed to get my gear ready since kickoff was about to start.

As I go to take my position and set up my tripod, I suddenly sense someone's presence nearby, a warmth enveloping me, sending a jolt of anticipation through my veins.

Turning slightly, I find Leah standing just a few feet away, her gaze intense and unwavering. 

"Enjoying the view?" Leah's voice breaks through the silence, her lips quirking up into a playful smile.

I chuckle nervously, trying to regain my composure. "Just admiring the architecture of the stadium," I reply, gesturing vaguely at the surroundings and trying to act uninterested.

Leah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Right," she says, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Because who wouldn't want to stare at concrete walls when they could be watching the best football team play?"

I roll my eyes, unable to suppress a smile despite my best efforts. "Okay, maybe I was enjoying the view a little too much," I admit, feeling a rush of warmth spread through me at her unexpected teasing banter.

Leah laughs, a sound that sends a flutter of butterflies swirling in my stomach. "Well, I can't blame you," she says, stepping closer until there's barely any space between us. "After all, I am pretty easy on the eyes."

I bite my lip, "You're not wrong," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I meet her gaze, feeling the unspoken tension crackling between us like electricity.

They keep watchful eyes on us. So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet.

After that particularly intense match, Leah and I find ourselves alone in the locker room, the echoes of victory still ringing in the air. The atmosphere is charged with tension, our bodies humming with the thrill of the game and built up yet unspent energy. 

Leah's gaze meets mine, her eyes smouldering with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. Without a word, she closes the distance between us, her movements swift and purposeful. I can feel the heat radiating off her body as her hand circles around my waist while her other hand snakes up and grasps my neck, our breath mingling in the close confines of the locker room.

Leah's warm breath brushes against my lips, her voice a soft whisper that stirs the air between us. "They could be watching," she murmurs, her words laden with a sense of urgency and caution. The weight of her words hang heavily in the air, yet her words remain discarded as I catch her lips in another heated kiss. With the shared understanding of the risk, we move closer, our bodies drawn together by an irresistible force as I bite her bottom lips in an attempt to fuse her further to me. My fingers weave through her hair, pulling her closer as our bodies press together, each touch sending sparks flying between us.

With each caress, the heat between us intensifies. Her hands roam freely, exploring every curve and contour of my body as her hands start to go dangerously low with a frantic touch, as if she is trying to memorise every inch of my skin.

As our movements become more urgent, the sound of footsteps echoes in the distance, jolting us back to reality. With a shared look of panic, we quickly break apart, my heart racing as I scramble to compose myself.

Leah's eyes meet mine, a silent plea for reassurance as we both struggle to catch our breath. Despite the close call, there's an undeniable sense of exhilaration coursing through us. With a shaky laugh, Leah reaches out to straighten my disheveled clothes, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "We should probably get going," she says, her voice husky with desire as her eyes continue roaming my body, her actions opposing the words coming out of her mouth.

I nod in agreement, my lips betraying me as my mind is still reeling from the intensity of our kiss.

You won't believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened yet

Leah and I lay entwined in each other's embrace as our breaths dance in harmony, a silent symphony of contentment and desire, both of us lost in our own thoughts until Leah breaks the silence.

"You ever think about where we could go from here?" Leah murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare skin.

I turn to her with a mischievous glint in my eyes. "Well, after that performance you put on, we might need to consider joining witness protection," I tease her, a playful smirk dancing on my lips.

Leah laughs, the low and husky sound reigniting my desire as I cuddle closer to her. "I think we might have set off a few alarms," she replies, "But hey, at least I went easy on you"

I chuckle, the tension easing as we batter back and forth. "Lee, I think the marks on my neck and back tell a different story" I quip.

Leah's laughter fills the room, warm and infectious. "I mean, you know what they say, it's not a real victory until you've left a mark” She replies as her fingers trace circles on the marks decorating my neck.

I could see you in your suit and your necktie, passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight" Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell.

As I navigate through the crowd, I keep catching glimpses of Leah across the room, more specifically trying to steal glances of her suit that fits her like a second skin, tailored to perfection to accentuate every curve and contour of her body. The sleek lines of the jacket frame her figure with elegance, while the crisp white shirt beneath hints at the curve of her neckline. Paired with her necktie, expertly knotted, that adds a touch of refinement to the ensemble, the deep hue contrasting beautifully against the backdrop of her shirt.

But it's not just the attire that gets me—it's the way Leah wears it. There's an effortless confidence in her demeanour, a self-assurance that radiates from her every pore that makes it hard for me to tear my glance away from her. 

Then, unexpectedly, Leah discreetly passes me a note, her eyes twinkling with mischief and a slight warning of what's to come.  The note reads, "Meet me tonight," accompanied by a playful wink as she runs off to join her teammates.

As the event comes to a close, I make my way to the meeting spot on the note, I find Leah already waiting, a coy smile playing on her lips, the air crackles with tension and desire. 

Not wasting any time, I grab onto Leah’s tie to close the distance between us as my fingers move to trail along the lapel of her suit jacket, sending a shiver of anticipation down Leah’s spine. With a playful glint in her eyes, Leah leans in closer, her breath warm against my skin.

Our lips meet in a feverish kiss, hungry and urgent, as months of pent-up desire spill over in a rush of passion. Leah's hands roam over my body, fingers tracing the contours of my form with a reverence that borders on worship. With a sense of urgency born of longing, Leah begins to shed my clothes, each garment falling to the ground in a hasty pile.

Leah's eyes darken with hunger as she pulls back to take a proper look at me, her gaze roving hungrily over every inch of my exposed skin. "I've imagined this moment more times than I can count." she murmurs, her voice husky with desire as her hands find their way back to me, trailing along the curves of my body with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down my spine. With practised precision, she directs her mouth to form more marks on my neck, continuing to tease me with featherlight touches. As her mouth continues to suck on the pulsepoint of my neck, her hands creep up under my bra, lightly kneeling the flesh, continuing to tease while whispers of moans involuntary leave my mouth. “Please lee, I need more please” I gasp as my eyes squeeze shut and her lips find mine once more, a fervent kiss that leaves us both dizzy with need. 

Leah's fingers return to my jawline to trace a slow path along it, her touch sending shivers down my spine. "Believe me," she whispers, her breath hot against my ear, "we're just getting started."

And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission, hide away and I will start behaving myself

It had become something of a routine for Leah and I to steal moments together whenever we could – at training sessions, during events, and even in the corners of the stadium. But lately, Leah had clearly made it her personal mission to keep me on my toes at all times, to see just how flustered she could make me.

During a particularly mundane team meeting regarding an upcoming match, I could clearly see Leah growing restless and fidgety, her eyes glimmering with mischief, very obviously up to no good. As the coach droned on about tactics and strategy, Leah's foot found its way to mine under the table, tracing teasing circles along her calf as her hands found their home on my thigh, rubbing in an upward motion. I could feel my cheeks flushing crimson as I struggled to maintain my fragile composure, trying to shoot Leah a warning glance that only seemed to fuel her amusement even more.

Later, at a team event, Leah made it her mission to keep me within arm's reach at all times. She would brush past me casually, her fingers lingering just a little too long against my arm or back. Each subtle touch reminding me of what her fingers could do, how she could turn me into an incoherent mess with just a few touches, my heart began to race with the thrill of our newly founded secret game.

But it wasn't just physical contact that Leah used to rile me up. She had a not so hidden talent for dropping suggestive comments and innuendos into our conversations, alone and or with other arsenal players and stuff, her comments always leaving me visibly flustered and breathless. And though I tried my best to play it cool, I knew Leah could see the effect she was having on me, the way her eyes would darken with desire whenever our gazes met.

Leah let out a contented sigh as we once again found ourselves alone in the locker room. The exhaustion of the day evident in every line of her body. With practiced ease, she began to peel off her sweat-soaked kit, the fabric clinging to her skin as she moved.

I simply couldn't tear my gaze away as Leah's toned muscles flexed beneath the fabric, my eyes shamelessly lingering on the defined curves of her abs. In my defence, it was impossible not to be captivated by the sight of Leah, especially after a match.

Leah obviously catching onto my not very discreet ogling of her body, she slowly moves closer to me with a devilish glint in her eye, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers "You know, Y/N," Leah began, her voice low and slightly seductive, "I love the way you react when I tease you like this. The way your cheeks flush and your breath hitches... it's addicting."

Leah's hand brushed lightly against my arm, "You drive me crazy, you know that?" Leah continued, her voice husky with desire. "I can't get enough of you, Y/N. And I won't stop until I've completely ruined you for everyone else. Till you are mine only"

Despite my very best efforts to play it cool, my body was betraying me with every word that left Leah's mouth. I could feel the heat quickly rising in my cheeks while my knees struggled to support my body. However, I didn't have to worry about that as Leah pushed me against the locker, her hand quickly residing on my waist, while the other hand was sneaking around the waistband of my sweatpants.

My breath was very quickly caught in my throat as I felt Leah's lips brush against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. She continued her ministrations further down my body, getting down on her knees as she placed light kisses all over my torso. I knew I should resist, knew that I should put an end to this game that we were playing. But in that moment, all I could think about was how much I wanted, needed Leah – how much I craved the touch of my skin against hers. How all my thoughts revolve around her.

—

The soft glow of the city lights filtering through the windows as Leah and I settle onto the couch together, her arm splayed over my shoulder as my head finds its home in the crook of her neck. However, there was palpable tension between us, the air thick with unspoken words.

Leah slowly leans in closer, her breath warm against my ear as she traces lazy circles on my thigh. "You ever wonder where this could lead?" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation.

I meet her gaze, a small smile playing on my lips as I subconsciously lean into her touch. "All the time," I admit, my voice soft with longing. "But you know I want this to be more, I want to be more for you, and to you.” I whisper, another confession that involuntarily left my lips.

Leah's expression softens, a hint of vulnerability shining through the mask of confidence she usually wears. "I can't promise you an easy road," she says, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I am ready for more and I can promise you that I'll be by your side every step of the way, giving you everything that you deserve and more."

I reach out to cup Leah's cheek, my touch gentle and reassuring. "That's all I need to hear," I say, my voice filled with conviction. "As long as we're together, I don’t care about anything else."

Leah leans into my touch, her eyes closing briefly as she savors the warmth of our connection. "Together," she echoes, her voice soft and full of promise.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Back Home

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: None. Angst, romance, humour.

Summary: You’re informed of what happened to Poe...and it couldn’t be straightforward.

You sat by the monitor and continuously flipped through the life scans of Jakku. It had been 8 hours since news reached the base of a First Order attack on the planet and all contact had been lost with Poe Dameron and his droid BB-8.

You had barely gotten a wink of sleep. The destruction of the village haunted your thoughts and the fear of losing Poe in the field was the reason you worked relentlessly to find the Resistance pilot and his droid.

Most of the officers had retired to their bed chambers for rest but there were still several others that remained working. Leaning forward, you set your head to rest on the palm of your hand while pouring over footage for the hundredth time.

“Lieutenant?” A voice called out.

Turning to the right, you saw General Organa looking back, grim-faced. An expression that you knew to be accompanied with bad news.

Standing up respectively, you saluted the Princess of Alderaan. “General. Is there a problem?”

Leia let out a soft sigh. “Follow me.”

The two words were frightening. They could lead into anything. You followed the General to the X-Wing bay and caught up to walk beside her. Leia had kept quiet most of the way which only heightened your concern. So you spoke up.

“General Organa, what are we doing here?” The bay was operating as usual and there didn’t seem to be any apparent disruption.

Leia stopped walking and you turned to face her.

“We recovered the body of Poe Dameron.” Leia revealed.

You wanted the ground to swallow you. Your mind went blank and suddenly you couldn’t remember what Poe looked like. Mouth falling dry, your chest began to ache… then a voice made itself known as it approached.

“I think we can skip Jakku from our list of honeymoon destinations.” Poe joked - very much alive.

You turned and saw the familiar messy black hair. Running forward, you threw your arms around Poe’s neck – engulfing the man in the warmest hug. Your nails dug into his shirt holding him tight as if he would disappear again. 

Then the choked sobs of relief escaped.

Poe’s eyes widened, his arms squeezing just a bit tighter. “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay.” He looked to Leia and she shook her head at him.

“I warned you not to play this trick.” She reprimanded.

A commander approached the princess and requested for her to join them in the war room. Leia nodded and left to complete her duties.

After a few minutes, you finally calmed enough to release Poe. You studied his face and noted the bruises printing his skin and blood-stains over his top. The side of his head was wounded and his trademark jacket was missing.

In spite of the obvious damage, he glowed.

“I thought I lost you.” You told him.

Poe nodded sadly. “You almost did aboard the Empire’s fleet.”

“You were taken captive? How did you-?”

“I promise I’ll tell you everything but, uh…” Poe rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I think my X-Wing is busted.”

Any other day, you might have warned him about damaging the jet but, as of this moment, you could care less about it. Smiling with relief, you grabbed Poe by his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him without a second thought. Poe placed a gentle hand on your cheek and returned the affectionate token until you pulled back slightly.

“As long as it’s not you.” You whispered. Poe wrapped his arms around your body, staying close – thankful that he had made it home. He knew that they had a new mission to find and retrieve BB-8 but it could wait for a few moments with you.

Masterlist here

[kairiscorner]

My fave thing abt Miggy is that when you first meet him, he’s all cold and has a tendency to brush you off aand now he doesn’t even want you to go out of bed 🤭🤭🤭

He’s just so whipped for his Mr/Mrs/Mx. O’Hara fr!!!

HE FR IS !!! i'm gonna include some bonus scenes from my AUtober day 1 fic if you don't mind ~~~

˗ˏˋ ✮ kairi's AUtober !

double feature 2: he's not smitten with you. miguel o'hara x gn!reader

"hey, miguel."

"..."

"mig, mig, hey mig!"

"..."

"miiiiiiigueeeeeel!"

"..."

"dammit mig, would you just look at me?"

he sighed and begrudgingly turned around, his light brown, chestnut colored eyes piercing into your gaze. he ran a hand through his wispy, tousled, dark brown hair and grunted. "what do you want?" he'd always act like he wants nothing to do with you, and that's probably true–about a year ago, he was the aloof, dissociative man everyone in the spider society came to fear and revere all at the same time. he had this tendency to be dismissive and brush people off, being all sarcastic and witty to express how he wanted others to leave him alone or to go away. you always fell victim to that snarky, rude miguel, who you've dubbed as, 'grouchy'.

"oh, grouchyyyy!" would ring through the headquarters' walls, and you didn't mind the fact that miguel would reprimand you for such a 'disrespectful' nickname–you didn't mind how furious he'd be with you for basically mocking him and pointing out his attitude; no, all that mattered was you getting a reaction out of him whenever you'd call him that, and you succeeded in this very venture every. single. time.

he'd scoff and roll his eyes at the nickname, folding his arms over his broad chest and crinkling his thick eyebrows at your little pet name for him. "quit it." he'd command you to do so every time, but it only made your teasing little moniker for him more frequently heard; and ironically... he gradually stopped chiding you for using it. he came to terms that you wouldn't quit calling him that, and he decided not to fight that feeling anymore and just let you call him whatever. but only behind closed doors, mind you–he'd strangle you if you ever called him 'grouchy' in front of the other spider people.

half a year passes, and you went from calling him 'grouchy' to 'miggy'. you honestly believed that hearing that nickname would piss him off, but it kind of had the opposite effect, really–he grew accustomed to the nickname and would pause for a minute before telling you to, 'call him miguel'. you never did call him just 'miguel', and he was sort of hoping that... you wouldn't stop calling him so. on random days when you'd call him 'o'hara' or 'miguel', he'd do a double take and nod, acting a little disappointed that the first thing that came out of your mouth was a–

"oh, yeah, don't forget to take care of yourself–miggy."

oh, fuck.

his heart is aching at the sound of that, throbbing and palpitating rapidly. and though it was for a mere few seconds, his heart skipped too fast for him to keep up with; he... had never felt that before. not ever before this moment–it was... wow. "i... yeah, y-you too." he'd reply, the words escaping his lips sounding foreign as he asks himself in a billion different ways: 'was that real? did i just... say that?'

eventually, some time passed, and miguel followed your stead and reserved a nickname for you: "mi dulce", his... sweet. he never continues it, because to him, there's not really any label for you–you're not quite his friend, he's closer to you than that, and you... aren't his lover yet; though you are the sweetest, you are his sweet.

and a year later... he's calling all kinds of names–from 'cariño' to 'mi amor' to 'mi ángel'–he's really outdone you in pet name department several times over. not a day goes by anymore without him being the one to fuss over you, make you snacks and meals when you come to visit him, remind you to drink water, sleep on time, and to eat at least three times a day, and... calling you his beloved, each and every day, with less embarrassment the more you smile at him and share the same sentiment with him and for him.

"mi amor–"

"yeah?"

"...take care out there, mi dulce amor."

"of course i will, and so should you, miggy."

and with that... he smiles.

nothing else could make him smile like this all genuinely and gleefully, not anything, not anyone else–just you and your perfect smile.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[scummy-writes]

Ikepri Suitors and their OnlyFans Account

This is silly, entirely based on messages in my server over the great Silvio Tit Block and jokes about OF following soon after, but I did put some thought into this!!! Just don't be upset if its odd, because while we all know chev would never have an OF in his life, it is fun imagining it 💭

We'll skip over the 'hows' and 'whys' here. We can pretend they're the princes of OF, and just what they specialize in.

Characters: Chev, Silvio, Gilbert, Clavis, Jin Keith

Chevalier

- There is a room lined with bookshelves, various titles glinting from the low light. In the center is a lavish lounge, and laid out across it is Chevalier. There is a robe draped across the back of it. Nothing on his person save for a book in his hands, which he calmly reads aloud.

- yeah. Chev just reads his romance books while nude on camera. It's a bit of asmr while getting nice eye candy

- a lot of comments in his page is about watching his erection, especially when he gets to a sex scene- people claim to see it twitch at parts, but they're never completely sure.

- rarely cums on camera. Usually reserved for higher tiers where they supply him with rare books that are difficult to find. Those videos focus on him in a different viewpoint, his breath heavy as he tries to control himself. Seeing precum drip down the length of his cock is a sight you'll want etched into your memory.

Clavis

- It's an adventure every time you view a new upload from him. Most of the time, he's testing out sex toys he's created, alongside any experimental lubes or mild aphrodisiacs. Other times, he's slowly fucking his fist or a fleshlight, whimpering out how much he loves his darling.

- his tendencies for being foolish are not entirely gone from here. They will show in the toy designs or follower requests he abides. He's done things such as drawing on himself with whip cream, trying to edge himself with vibrators, or see how long he can last without touching himself while taking his brand of aphrodisiac.

- there is a persona he has for his OF, a silly gentleman who is prone to trying to please his fans through his creations, but between the curated chaos there are softer videos of his. Ones where he sighs out praises and words of love, playing up a fantasy of being your loving husband, coaxing himself to cum on your command.

Jin

- His chest is his money maker. Of course, his whole body could be considered so, but he pays attention to the comments he receives, and he knows what his audience wants. There's many a picture and video of his body slicked with oil, hands squeezing his chest as he winks at the camera

- certainly has started off videos shirtless and in sweatpants, letting his erection strain against the fabric. He's came in his pants just a few times, as a treat to his fans every once in a while.

- lots of focus on him jerking off for the camera. Sometimes he's got the hem of his shirt in his mouth, jerking off while letting you soak in the rest of his body. Other times he's in the shower, soaping his body slowly, paying attention to his chest, laying out his best dirty talk with gentle chuckles and sighs.

- sometimes tests out some of Clavis' special creations, but not often. One dyed his palms and dick, and he's been more careful since.

Silvio

- Silvio is known for his money, and also his tits. Those days out at sea have caused his body to be toned delightfully, and when accentuated with the fine jewelry he wears, it wasn't a surprise that nudes of himself caused a stir among those who knew of him.

- despite how often he sleeps with women, he rarely has any with him in videos. Most of his content centers around tasteful photos of himself, lounging on furniture with jewelry adorning his figure. This account was how others found out just how many piercings he has litered along his body.

- in the few videos he has, the times he collaborates with someone is few and far inbetween. Those videos are often rough, a means to an end for both parties, and when Silvio cums he'll elect to do so on his partner's face when possible. Something in the way he does so, then takes their chin in his hand to survey his work, makes his fans go a bit wild. But outside of those videos, he's often jerking himself off. Slowly, taking his time chasing his pleasure. He'll hiss curses as he gets close to his orgasm, edging himself more and more until he can't take it anymore.

- there are rumors that if you post photos of his tits outside of his OF account, your account will be struck down immediately with an explicit marker. His chest is just too much for other sites to handle.

- carlos has to delete many comments stating "I can fix him", lest Silvio pop off.

Gilbert

- oddly, when you view his content, there is no comments on anything. It's as if you've found a diamond in the rough, a private profile not meant for others eyes. Yet Gilbert doesn't kick you off of the page, and you're surprised at the amount of content he produces for such little price.

- he focuses on different ways for himself to get off. His hand, various toys, trying to cum without touching his cock. Occasionally, he'll experiment with a kink you happen to enjoy, but never mentioned. All the while he asks if his 'little rabbit' is enjoying the show, panting with his chuckles. Watching him cum is a delight, as you get to see how breathless he becomes, how his hips jut as he works his cock to the point of overstimulation.

- at some point, he allows for you to make requests, and you're surprised at how willing he is to do anything you desire. It's a bit concerning, but it's difficult to worry about as he follows each request, looking at the camera as he teases you for asking such a thing of him.

- there's odd cum tributes that he'll upload, but you never understand exactly who they're for.

Keith

- Keith will never show his face on his account, terribly ashamed of what he's doing to begin with. He'll opt to wear a facemask with anything he does on the account, keeping his bangs messy often.

- his content varies at times, to the point of confusing his fans. Most of the time, there will be sparse uploads: videos where he is palming himself through his pants, getting off on the act of filming himself while apologizing. Its clear that this is a shy man, and those who view his content are confused as to why he's uploading. But most love the way his eyes water, how sometimes he'll pull his girthy cock out for them to see, coaxing himself through a rough orgasm.

- other times, those apologies are nowhere to be heard as Keith- still donned in a mask- shows his body with confidence. He'll look directly at the camera as he teases his thick cock, murmuring about how he wants to make them gag on his length, how he needs someones tight warmth milking him dry. In some videos, he'll treat a fleshlight as if its one of his subscribers- fingering it slowly and stretching it out, talking low and dirty to the camera about how much it's going to take for them to fit all of him inside, how he's going to have to train them to take his cock with ease.

Chev's, ironically, is inspired by someone I knew. They had an OF dedicated for doing the same thing, but no jacking off element. Meanwhile Silvio's funny blurb is due to @xbalayage getting temp marked as explicit due to trying to make her icon Silvio's tits, and thus caused this post to be born. The rest came about just through idle thinking. I'm aware that all of this is ooc, I'm not taking this as a serious piece and neither should you.

These were silly but fun, I hope yall enjoyed, even if it was just a chuckle!

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):

@yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381 @xbalayage

Ikepri Masterlist (more serious stuff on that) | Ikevamp Masterlist | Ikevamp/Ikepri Server

[poppadom0912]

By my side

Characters: Kelly Severide x Platonic!Reader, Matt Casey x Platonic!Reader, Sylvie Brett x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: Toxic men, abuse, protective firefighters.

Summary: You should've been better but at least your family is by your side.

A/N: For the sake of this, there'll be two ambulances which means two PIC's.

This has been sitting in my drafts for months unfinished and I suddenly decided to finish it after work on the train. Also couldn't be asked to proofread so sorry for any mistakes!! And I know this aesthetic thing sucks but it's been a long day and I'm tired, so sorry again. 😅😅

Being a paramedic had always been your dream.

Growing up in a first responder household: firefighter dad and patrol officer mum, paramedics were a constant presence around them. So, it was only natural that was were you gravitated towards.

Following this, working at firehouse 51 was a given since that was where your father was a Captain at till he became battalion chief and moved to another house.

Your family had history in this house, making it somewhat sacred ground for anyone who shared your family's surname.

Yes, there had been times when you had to prove your worth and that you weren't a nepo baby but your family in everything but blood were always somehow five steps ahead of you.

So it only made sense that when you started to skip going to Molly's and skimping on details about what you did during your day offs, that they were concerned and confused to say the least.

Six months later, after nearly holding an intervention, you introduced everyone to your boyfriend Mason.

It was safe to say, everyone had their suspicions, even after being together for a year. All of which you excused, diverting and switching blame.

*****

You thought that you were finally happy with how everything in your life was settling but all of a sudden, fate decided that stability wasn't necessary for you.

Shouting and constant arguing should've been the first sign, blaring as bright as the sun, warning and shouting at you to break it off before reaching the one year mark but you briskly ignored it and marched on.

Then, the drinking problems, anger problems and impatience were made alight when you started living together. (he invited you to move in with him when celebrating one year together)

You found yourself not liking the man he started becoming the longer you were together. It irked you to no end and you constantly were skittish around him, finding it harder to have a civil conversation with him the more time passed.

It seemed that your feelings somehow transferred themselves over to your work life because you were suddenly snapping at the stand-in paramedic for Sylvie when she was sick for a petty reason.

The PIC in you forced you to immediately apologise before Kelly dragged you into his office, Matt following without a word.

Naturally, the three of you including Sylvie had a bond of 'commanding officers' as you were all in charge in some degree and over several years, the work relationship blossomed and the four of you were as thick as thieves.

It also helped that Matt and Kelly worked with your father and knew you from their pre-firefighter and your pre-paramedic days.

Under their concern filled gazes, you found yourself crumbling, eyes all of a sudden filled with tears from the stress of it all.

They couldn't help but confirm their fears which you tried to deny incessantly, for some reason defending Jason and explaining that this could all be fixed and everything would be back to normal in no time.

If only you didn't.

*****

Over the past year, everyone found you changing.

The stern but loving PIC you once were had become but a memory. It was as though you were a shell of your past self, something of which you agreed with.

Mason was draining the life out of you and the only time you weren't losing yourself to him was during your 24 hour shifts before being surrounded by him for the next 48.

You tried your best to leave, you really did but at some point in your now two year relationship, things took an abrupt turn and Mason had become this toxic, controlling man who has a newfound urge to resort to violence when you were being your true self.

Being PIC meant you had an amount of power under your title and after many years of work, you had perfected your nature. It's why you and Sylvie were so good at what you did; you used force when necessary and compassion was always on hand.

Over the course of the past year, you found yourself on the end of many interventions held by Matt, Kelly and Sylvie.

With all the reasons in the world, they argued and argued with you, laying out the easiest ways to break you free. They were as desperate as you were at this point to get you to break up with Jason. They missed and needed the old you back.

Unbeknownst to you, they schemed behind your back, trying and failing to convince you to leave Mason for good but you found yourself pathetically laughing at them before going home to endure hell.

You struggled to understand your behaviour. Abuse to this degree was something you never you experience firsthand and you would never wish it upon your worst enemies.

On sleepless nights, you constantly contemplated why you wouldn't leave. You wanted to, you really did but then you could hear him whisper in your ear and you remained firmly glued to his side.

So badly did you want to rip your arm out his earth shattering grip and run back home, to the safety of love and familiarity.

Your final decision was set in stone when he finally made his mark a month ago, fingertips bruised into your wrist when he wouldn't let you leave his car in front of the firehouse.

"Alright then, thank you for dropping me off. I'll see you tomorrow." You said, pressing your lips together in a tight smile, hand reaching for the door handle while the other fiddled with the handle of your tote bag.

He replied with something, you weren't too sure because you were already out the car, closing the door with practised precision and gentleness.

Your expressionless face brightened at the sight of your colleagues/friends/basically siblings at this point. The firehouse and all its inhabitants were truly your saving grace and without it, you weren't too sure where you would be.

Just as you were going to walk up the apron to meet them halfway, you were being pulled back by a random force. It was so sudden that you dropped your bag, your things spilling out as they rolled away.

You yelped, attracting the attention of those who weren't previously paying attention to your arrival in their mortal enemies car.

Scrunching your eyebrows, you turned to Mason in confusion, your eyes following the hand gripping your wrist to his face you were once infatuated with.

"What the hell Mason?!" You said with gritted teeth, trying to escape but he wouldn't let go. "Stop, your making a scene."

Before he could reply, several shouts came from behind you and before you knew it, you were being pulled into comforting arms as big and bulky men dealt with Mason.

"Oh Y/N." Sylvie's heart melted for you while it ignited in flames because of Mason. With your bag in one of her hands, she somehow collected all of your things, she brought you into her arms and hugged you tighter than a koala.

"Let me see your hand." She muttered under her breath, unbothered by the fuming men huddling around you in a protective barrier, on guard as they watched Matt and Kelly deal with Mason on the street.

She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth at the finger shaped bruise on your wrist, you copying her when she lightly touched it. Despite her angelic exterior, you saw a red glint flash across her eyes, one you rarely saw but had seen several times before on the rare occasion.

If this was her reaction, then you were dreading Matt and Kelly's.

And your feelings were very much justified because as soon as they sent Mason away, you found yourself being subject to a very strong worded conversation.

They played the role of overprotective brothers perfectly. With the help of detectives who you were lucky to call good friends, your plan was set in stone and would take a week to fully come together.

Despite how meticulously everything was planned, you somehow ended up in the emergency room. Surrounded by doctors and nurses you recognised, you felt their sympathy and felt nearly emotional with the care that greeted you.

Thanking Maggie, you smiled and watch the charge nurse leave but you weren't alone for even a minute before three certain people came barging in.

With wide eyes, they drank in your slouched figure.

Matt looked alarmed, Kelly disgruntled and Sylvie on the edge of a breakdown.

You choked out a watery laugh, harshly swallowing back tears as you shook your head and blinked repeatedly. Releasing a shaky breath, you felt your chest tighten as your oxygen was constricted before it was all treated when enveloped in the loving arms of your 'siblings'.

Had it not been for your intense emotional state, you would've barked out in laughter at the anger displayed by Kelly who imitated a caged lion, Matt who spewed words Hank Voight would find offensive and Sylvie who played parts of a mother comforting their daughter but also Satan prepared to burn and punish sinners.

Your pain was muted by their presence alone. With their constant love and never-ending companionship by your side, you were sure to heal.

[gendertrickster]

:33 < wait can you purrhaps explains how egbert made rosemary happen?

okay so i'm going to explain this from kanaya's perspective as it is somehow the most str8forward of the three of them

CONVERSATION ONE

kanaya is commanded by karkat to start trolling the humans, and she picks rose because she has already developed an impression of what kind of person rose is meant to be based on the guide she wrote and stored on a lone server in the depths of the furthest ring, which kanaya then made use of in the session that produced the universe rose inhabited in the first place.

however, as one who lacks any competence at computers whatsoever, kanaya stumbles through the first conversation without the viewport open, a conversation which gives her the impression that rose is very snarky and stupid and a huge smartass. in reality, the person behind the screen was john egbert, who was opaquely trolling kanaya back because he happened to be at rose's computer at the random point in time kanaya chose to troll rose — rose was asleep. "rose" suggests kanaya go troll john in the past so she can figure out what is going on with these humans.

following this, kanaya gets the viewport to work just as john has already left the room and sees rose, now awake, standing at her door. she then bears witness to the thank-you prank john prepared as a response to rose gifting him the knitted bunny:

she is mortified by the sight, concluding that rose can be nothing short of an utter buffoon.

she then determines there's really no point to trolling someone who can evidently provide no intellectual challenge. the next logical course of action, then, is to go troll john fucking egbert

john proceeds to prove even DUMBER than "rose", which drives kanaya fucking insane — which is what john wanted in the first place, since acting like an idiot is his go-to countertrolling method — and lands john a humble few ticks of the prankster's gambit (for now). john suggests kanaya give rose another chance, and kanaya departs with no intention of john "ever hearing from her again", which is true from her perspective but not john's, because she just finished talking to john in the future, who was disguised as rose.

kanaya finds no interest in talking to dave or jade and, to her vast irritation, finds her curiosity drifting back in rose's direction.

CONVERSATION TWO

kanaya finds john to have been right, that this rose is not the same one she spoke to in her first conversation, and concludes that rose has indeed been toying with her all along. she informally declares trolling war on rose lalonde.

CONVERSATION THREE

kanaya skips ahead to a point where she'd hoped friendship had been established already but finds rose unresponsive, and also that rose has at this point already figured out what has been going on in regards to the "smart rose/dumb rose" thing, and that it wasn't a tactical move on rose's part. she doesn't give details, of course, because that would cause a time paradox, but it clues kanaya in on her future self's machinations.

her fourth, fifth, and sixth conversations pass by offscreen, with kanaya feeling as if she's losing hold on this friendship gambit she's putting effort into for some reason. she goes to dave for insight, as he is rose's server player, and he tells her to pull out all the psychological stops and play mind games wherever possible. she believes she knows how to proceed.

and it is here where her plan comes to form in full:

CONVERSATION SEVEN

here, kanaya attaches "ConversationWithAVeryStupidGirl.Txt", which is the first conversation kanaya had with user tentacleTherapist. at this point in rose's timeline, this conversation hasn't happened yet; this is only her second conversation with kanaya, whereas her first with kanaya was kanaya's "third" with rose. the attached conversation would be rose's next conversation with kanaya, or so the two of them both thought at this point.

kanaya's play here, then, is that by sending this conversation (with various edits and tactical omissions) to rose, rose would be forced into the causal position of reenacting it perfectly, making herself look the fool to kanaya, sparking this trolling effort in the first place, thereby being outplayed by kanaya and, officially, trolled.

except,

rose was not the one who spoke to kanaya the first time she contacted that handle.

it was john.

CONVERSATION EIGHT

kanaya, having now been hooked by john, pulled all the way through several conversations with rose that culminated in the impression that she had the upper hand, and finally being led to observe rose destroying a vital game construct in a display of light-player hubris with which kanaya is deeply and viscerally familiar, has been successfully trolled by john into a position of deep concern and reckless affection for rose lalonde, hook, line, and sinker.

whether john actually planned any of this is hardly a question, but if you asked him at the time, he'd absolutely take credit for it in the smarmiest manner conjurable

[solecize]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐃 | 𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘.  as  you  attempt  to  claw  away  at  keeping  your  title  as  the  nation's  sweetheart  following  a  dispatch  scandal  that  put  a  pause  on  your  career  for  a  nearly  year  long  hiatus,  everyone  in  your  circle  and  your  company  seems  to  tip-toe  around  you.  you're  a  monster,  a  diva,  an  explosion  waiting  to  be  set  off.  they  go  on  to  release  the  staff  around  with  NDAs  regarding  your  dating  leak  and  hire  a  new  team  altogether  out  of  necessity.  amongst  them  is  the  straight-faced  irene,  the  quiet  stylist  with  a  mastermind  that  vows  to  help  you  in  your  return  every  step  of  the  way.  she  guides  you  through  the  next  chapter  of  your  career,  becoming  your  bravery  when  you  couldn't  be  your  own.     𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. irene x idol!reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 2.0k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.  this is probably the first piece of fiction i’ve written in 2 years so its a lil rough sorry lol anyway this is gonna be a short series, probably around 5 parts or so maybe less idk 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  PART 01/05.

she always asked what you were giggling about - seemingly every time she painted lip gloss across your smile, you were holding back a laugh. it was mostly to her own exasperation, as the crease that formed between her brows was supposed to show just how much harder you were making her job for her. irene didn’t actually ever mind, though. it was you, how could she? 

after returning to your group to take part in the preparations for your fourth mini album comeback, it was made evident to you that management was taking each step with caution. not in regards to your wellbeing, no, it wasn’t definitely not that. it was the way it seemed as though the world began walking on eggshells around you after your forced hiatus. it was also the way the world seemed to be constantly giving you a side eye, going over all the variants of the word ‘diva’ in their heads.

not irene, though.

since pre-debut, you were used to certain personalities from idol staff. there were all sorts - from the older, stricter company employees that scrutinized your every move, the staff that were too scared to even speak directly to you, the staff that were big fans and did everything in their power to please you. some of the long term faces that stuck by your group for the past few years had even become your friends. 

when irene came along, you nearly picked a fight with her for no reason. frustrated and on your first day back from “vacation,” you were met with the stunning irene and immediately grew territorial. who was this beautiful stranger and why was she taking up space in the middle of your trailer? she, of course, looked back at you with a blank face and proceeded to tell you to strip without any hi or introduction.

“strip,” irene commanded, as she rifled through the rack of clothes in front of her. 

her hands swiped between flashes of different shades of purple - the theme for the first couple of scenes of the music video .  you were left speechless for a second, tongue tumbling on any form of introduction, which irene had promptly skipped over. she met your eyes, making you snap out of your stutter, and her pointed look towards your left showed that your other members were already getting their video shoot clothes on.

“um, i’m y/n. what happened to cha - “

“i don’t know and i don’t really care. take off your jewelry, too.” in the middle of buttoning your jeans down, you saw that irene had quickly laid out what you would be wearing on camera. an off the shoulder lilac gingham piece that would brush against your ankles with puff sleeves, paired with freshwater pearls. it screamed sweet and loving “girl next door” all over - although, in your eyes, it was the perfect “please forgive me” look to your fanbase following the dating scandal that halted your career for multiple months. irene knew what she was doing.

you were able to get a good look at irene for the first time - or at least, the best you could with the way she moved so quickly. she was definitely around your age and definitely gave the impression of an idol herself. she was naturally beautiful, maybe one of the most beautiful girls you’d ever seen, and even in her work clothes of a simple long sleeve and jeans, irene looked like a model herself. her long black hair was pulled into a low ponytail, with a few strands of hair framing her face. you noticed her identification lanyard was decorated with hello kitty stickers.

your shoes were finally off, but you were still stunned silent. your group mate, sohye, glanced over at you with a puzzled expression. you noticed she was already in her dress and you hurriedly grabbed your own to hop your feet in. she was still staring at you, as her own stylist began doing as well. however, the latter seemed to be fighting a smirk. 

“what?”

sohye met eyes with her stylist and mirrored the same devious look. “nothing! you’re just really quiet, y/n....”

it was true. you were the fire cracker of the group, the one who’s laughter rung throughout the entire venue alone. boisterous and proud, you were made silent at the unique nature of the group’s newest staff member. this caught the attention of a few others in the room, a bit confused, as you were often the loudest voice in the room. you would at least be cracking some good-hearted jokes about your time off or practicing runs with sohye. you still weren’t sure why she was smirking at you and irene, though. 

“...met her match....”

“ladies! can we get a move on? mio, you still have to get your extensions in! bora, are you taking those pics for instagram? fantastic! and...y/n, you’re still getting your outfit on?” it was your manager, also known as the second loudest voice in the room. he seemed to take on a permanently frantic state across your group’s life span, as he dashed in the room out of nowhere, murmuring things at the appearance of his idols and scribbling things on a clipboard. 

he sighed, looking over at irene. “she’s not giving you a hard time, is she?”

“hey!”

“no, she’s been fine,” was irene’s reply, as she plugged in a curling iron on the pastel pink vanity in front of the two of you, not missing a beat. your manager looked at you, then back at irene, and simply shrugged and continued rambling about your group’s schedule for the next two hours. 

you let out a deep sigh that went unnoticed by the others in the room, except irene who raised an eyebrow at you, while simultaneously ushering you to the makeup chair. it really should have been you looking at her like that, as you were taken aback by how on her feet she was - in multiple ways. irene moved like a machine, weaving back and forth in the small space allocated to the both of you at the speed of light. she called over some assistant makeup artists to begin their work on you, as she ignored you in favour for directing the look that they were going for on you. irene was also on her feet against your group’s manager, the head honcho that typically leaves staff members unnerved. she was swift and she was direct. that was the first thing you ever noticed about her.

bora sauntered over and peered at you with a frown. “hey. why does y/n get the nicest set?” between the three other members, it was clear that bora still wasn’t over the fact that you got caught with a dating scandal. it looked bad on all of them as a group and you had apologized profusely to them for being a hinderance, but she was still showing the same level of disdain she had before. you two were never the closest in particular and now, it seemed like your friendship, or even profession relationship at  the least, was beyond repair.

you rolled your eyes at her. “go back to your own space, damn.” 

“well, you’re the one that messed up, i just don’t see why the company gave you irene. she’s the best of the best and my stylist is dressing me up like dora the explorer,” she grumbled the last part under her breath, returning her attention to her phone screen, where she was undoubtedly scrolling through social media to see what the fans were posting about her. 

it was technically your first day back. you and the girls quickly recorded your album in under a month and were thrown into the wolves that were better known as a kpop comeback. it was a record, basically unheard of in your company. however, plans changed following the scrapped debut of what was supposed to be a new boy group and a slot was left wide open for your group. everything had been a whirlwind so far and there was definitely an air of extra pressure following your hiatus, the need to prove yourself almost. it was your first day back and nearly everyone around you was giving you shit and you were exhausted. 

“it’s my first day, too. i’m taking it easy,” irene’s velvety voice chimed in out of nowhere, lowered to a volume that could only heard between the two of you, as she gently wrapped a section of hair around the curling wand, “and you should also, especially after everything.”

you were taken aback by the sudden words of wisdom, but realized fast that she was right. “you have a point, um, irene.” 

at this point, she had yet to introduce herself and you caught her name from bora, who seemed to already be acquainted with irene’s good reputation as a stylist. the name fumbled a bit off your tongue in your vulnerable state, a bit anxious for a variety of reasons. to your surprise, irene frowned a bit, which was her first display of any emotion the entire time.

“i’ll admit, i had to look into the group that i was going to work for,” irene began and you were prepared to wince at her opinion of the whole hiatus mess, “and i’ve seen you. you’re really strong-minded, why are you letting them get to you?”

“you’ve seen me?” that was the only thing you really focused on for a second, ignoring a flutter in your stomach. flattery was what you thought it was, as you wondered what irene thought of you and your talents.

this conversation was happening as you let the other two assistant makeup artists continuously flicked and dabbed with brushes and sponges on your face in silence. you noticed they didn’t even look at you in the eye, something you had seen many times before in the past. however, this time, you felt as though it wasn’t out of shyness or being starstruck. everyone had been continuously giving you a certain look after your return from hiatus and you only assumed the artists were participating in this cold-shoulder fest, between your manager to netizens to even your own group member. their opinion of you, though, wasn’t as important to you as irene’s opinion.

you caught yourself and cleared your throat. “i mean - well...i don’t know what you’re talking about.” it was a lie right through your teeth.

“chin up,” she commanded once again and you immediately did so, as she approached you with a beautiful strawberry-coloured lip pencil. 

you met her eyes as she began carefully carving out the outline of your lips with careful movements. something in you was glad that you got a new stylist and especially more so that she was in charge of you and only you. despite this feeling of welcomeness, you remained confused as to what irene was getting to.

“don’t let them give you shit,” irene replied, as she finished the last touches of your lip liner and had reached over for a matching lipgloss. she leaned over and resume her place right in front of you, still decorating your features with the gentlest of moves. 

that was the second thing you ever noticed about irene. from the moment you walked in and met her, you saw that she took absolutely no shit from anyone. that included you, your manager, and anyone else who dared. she stood her ground and did so gracefully. you were instantly envious of the way she held herself.

however, she saw that you could do the same. you smiled a bit and while irene also cracked a bit of a smile, just nearly tugging on the corner of her lips, it quickly turned into a sterner look.

“okay, but i didn’t say move. stop smiling or laughing or whatever.” 

time was ticking, as the camera crew wanted to get the good shots in before the forecasted rain began later in the afternoon. everyone was engaged in the hustle and bustle of the day ahead, but for the first time that entire day, you were able to breathe freely and smile. well, smile as much as you could until irene tsked you because you were moving and ruining her vision. this would be the first of many iconic looks that irene would craft for you for the comeback ahead. more importantly, it was the first time you became her muse and she became your rock.

[where-is-caithe]

Woe, giant Eon ref be upon ye.

Eon - she/her or they/them, lesbian charr.

This was started when I was playing them as a necromancer, however the information is relatively the same no matter their class.

Huge BLOCK of information under the cut!

The gist of Eon is that they were part of an Ash Legion Warband, the Night Warband, that was sent into the Fractals of the Mists around when they were first discovered and instead of returning safely, they were trapped inside. The effects of this are apparent in the way they fight and most importantly, the space spots. Scars they get from fighting heal over in space "rifts". The space feels like their regular fur but cold. The scars they have in this ref are what they look like as of SotO.

As of right now, the idea is they became trapped in the Mists and skipped the level 10-30 personal story, and once they are out, it goes right into joining an order to get out of the Citadel. On paper, they still answer to the Ash Legion. In practice. Well.

Important bullet points! (from the ref and additional points)

Eon is the Commander and follows the story relatively the same apart from the very beginning of it.

they have a broken hilt of a sword from one of their dead 'bandmates that they use in addition to other conjured weapons.

their shoulder spikes are from their Flame Legion heritage, before being lost in the Mists they were a smoke and flame elementalist that specialized in stealth and blitz attacks.

now, their magic feels much colder and their stealth is much more reliable, they no longer use flames.

they were born with a short tail.

they usually have the name "Fang" because of their big teeth.

they don't know how long they were in the Mists and they're the only one of their Warband that made it out.

they learned to wield a long sword while in the Mists and are a formidable fighter with one, though they do use a variety of weapons including daggers, scepters, foci, bows, swords and shields.

they have problems with authority and do not take orders well.

they also have a temper and will lash out, however they're generally friendly unless given a reason not to be.

they're not a good person to be sent to speak with political figures like Queen Jennah or Empress Ihn.

they're very aggressive and will attack first, which is not at all how they fought or acted before the Mists.

Clothing and appearance bullet points!

they hardly ever wear full shirts covering their whole chest, even in dangerous fights.

if there's ever clothing that covers their shoulders, the holes that their shoulder spikes go through MUST be torn that way, not made or cut for them.

always wears something with purple on it.

they have many piercings in their ears and it all depends on how many piercings I want to give them in the moment.

the space rifts must always have purple space, but other colors may be there in addition to purple.

hair is always purple.

they have very faint spots like a black panther.

any metal jewelry or accessories MUST be silver.

their shroud as a Specter is the same as their shroud as a Reaper, but without the scythe.

pupils turn white when fighting/using magic but especially in shroud.

I'm probably forgetting things but this is the basics.

[jewels-writes]

deception (part 3)

Warnings: nsfw, sex, cursing Word Count: 2,123 Fandom: Call of Duty Notes: THERE IS NSFW IN THIS PART! It will be labeled and you can skip it if you don't feel comfortable reading it. Nothing important to the story happens in it, so don't worry about missing anything. As always, my work is poorly proofread. Part 1 Part 2 — — — —

It was another week before everyone was cleared. You couldn’t begin to describe the relief you felt when the agent allowed you back into your own room. Though, all your belongings weren’t where you left them, you were back. 

You wasted no time searching for Price, going to his room first, nearly tripping over yourself in your haste. 

“John.” You called out breathlessly, looking up at him as he was reorganizing his room after the investigation. His eyes widened before looking over to you. You reveled in the way his features softened as he took a step forward, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around you. “I’m so glad this is over.” You murmured into his chest, your arms snaking up under his arms and around his back, your hands clinging onto the fabric of his undershirt.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He murmured, his lips in your hair as he took a deep breath. “How I’ve missed you.” His hands ran up and down your back, feeling the curve of your spine. His hands began to wander, untucking your shirt, his skin meeting yours.

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered, putting your hands on his wrists, pausing his advances. “Don’t give me that look, John.” You rolled your eyes as he pouted at you. “Later, I promise. I want to go see everyone first.”

“Fine.” Price sighed, putting his hands in his pockets, a more respectful option. “But I can only wait so long.” His voice hinted at his impatience. It had been weeks. Weeks without intimacy. Weeks without sex. He was antsy and god damn needy.

Just as you were about to respond, Soap knocked on the doorframe before poking his head around the opening, announcing his presence. “Hey, lovebirds.” He teased with a kindhearted tone. 

“Johnny.” You nodded to him with a knowing smile. “Is there something you need?” You asked, taking a step closer to the teammate you’d been separated from for far too long.

“Laswell wants to talk to us.” Soap’s accent shone through with his annoyance. “Not happy ‘bout it but..” His voice trailed off as he shrugged a nonchalant way. Price’s eyebrows furrowed at Soap’s reaction, something seeming too uncaring about it.

“Oh, lovely.” You retorted, visibly upset at the mention of her name. You were sick of seeing her, sick of being questioned by her. “Can’t wait to see what this is about now. Better be something better than an apology.”

Price placed a hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you and you looked over to him. “I’m sure she means well. Let’s go.” He said gruffly, stepping out of his room and leading the way to the meeting room. 

As you entered, Ghost and Gaz were already seated. They looked delighted to see the rest of their team, the time apart effecting them too. Sitting down next to Gaz, you did a small handshake with him, one you’d had since you joined the forces. It made both of you feel a little bit better about the situation.

As everyone took their seats, Laswell walked in, her expression unreadable. Following after her was Commander Phillip Graves, an annoying smirk on his face. You’d always had your reservations about him, something always felt off. You tried to tell yourself it was just that he was an American and that you came from different backgrounds. 

As Laswell reached the presentation board, she plugged in her laptop to the projector, showing her screen.

“As you all well know, you have all been cleared of suspicion. I formally apologize for any inconveniences caused by the investigation.” Her voice sounded fake, like her PR team was feeding her the words she spoke. “Moving forward, duty calls.” She motioned to the screen behind her. “The target is still at large, we need you to find him and bring him in for questioning. Which means we need him alive. Is that clear?” Her eyes leveled at Ghost, arguably the most brutal one of the group. He didn’t seem fazed by the sudden attention.

Your eyes darted to Price who sat across from you. He was already looking at you when your eyes met. He nodded once, a reassuring gesture. As Laswell continued her briefing, your attention turned back to her, absorbing every detail for the mission.

“You deploy first thing tomorrow. Be ready.”

— — — —

Leaving the meeting room and walking into the hall, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. You’d finally be back in the field where you belonged. You knew your teammates weren’t spies. You’d spent years with all of them, knew everything about each of them. 

Looking back into the room, you made eye contact with Price, giving him a certain look. You knew he was aching for you, you’d seen it the entire meeting. He’d nudge you with his foot, clear his throat, anything to get your attention. As his eyes met yours, you could see how they flickered with a certain understanding. He knew what was coming in his near future. 

He said a few words to the rest of the 141 before striding over to you, his arm going protectively over your shoulders. The scent of his cologne filled your senses at his proximity. It only made you want him more.

“My patience has waned. I’ve got none left.” His tone was low and raspy, conveying just how much he was holding back. “My room. Now.” Your stomach flipped as his voice dropped an octave.

As the door shut behind you, Price made an effort to turn the lock, not wanting any interruptions. He’d gone long enough without you. For this moment, he wanted you all to himself.

!!! NSFW DO NOT READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE !!!

There was nothing gentle about his movements. His desperation showed as he pressed you against the door, the tightness in his pants rubbing against your thigh as his lips connected with yours. His hands roughly tugged at your shirt, his intentions clear. He wanted it off. 

“Fuck.. I’ve missed you..” He groaned as he let his hands wander along your now-exposed skin. “So fucking gorgeous.” He murmured against your neck, nibbling at it as his lips moved down to your shoulder. He couldn’t hide the arousal growing in his pants, how he was desperate to have relief for the growing, throbbing ache.

“On the bed.” He muttered against your skin, a hint of restraint in his tone. Yes, he wanted to fuck you, but he wanted you to feel good too.

He pressed your shoulders down onto the bed, one of his hands moving to undo the clasp of your belt, tugging it out of the loops in a single movement. In a few yanks, your pants were discarded on the ground in a heap, the belt and shirt beside it. 

Taking a moment, he admired your body, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, occasionally drifting up to your tummy before going back down. He could sense just how much you wanted this too. How your hips pressed into his hands every time they got close to where you burned for him.

“You’re teasing me.” You whispered, a hand coming up to cover your mouth, embarrassed about it. As the words left your mouth, he let his fingers dip dangerously close. Your thighs opened for him, an almost automatic action. You wanted him to go further, to go inside.

“I’d never.” He smirked, his hands pressing against the cloth of your last article of clothing, reveling in how you pressed into his touch. “You’re aching for me, aren’t you?”

You were too embarrassed to admit it, but you knew he was right. It felt like your body was on fire with anticipation. All you could do was nod quickly, biting your lower lip. 

“Sweet little thing..” He whispered, tugging at your underwear. He paused for a moment, looking up at you for consent. “May I?” He asked, making sure he wasn’t going too far. Yes, you and him had been dating for a while, but he never wanted to cross a boundary with you. Not ever, you were the most precious thing to him.

“Yes.” You whispered in a breathy tone. The sound of your voice, the needy tone under the breathiness made his body shiver with excitement. 

Almost with a painful slowness, he removed the thin cloth, throwing it to the side. You saw as his eyes flickered with desire. He reached for one of your hands and pressed it to his bulge, encouraging you to massage it while he ripped his shirt off.

“You’re being so good for me.” He murmured, pressing into your touch. Your hand never wavered, you knew what he liked, what made him feel good. 

Soon he was just as barren as you, his length throbbing with need, dripping with precum. Positioning himself between your legs, he teased your opening with his fingers, reveling in how you squirmed, desperate for his entry. Pathetically, you pressed into his touch, hoping he’d understand your nonverbal plea for more. His eyes flickered with recognition and maybe a hint of mischief.

“Need something?” He cooed nudging closer, his tip grazing against your hole.

“J-john.. Please..” Was all you could manage. Your back was already arched up against the bed as you felt him. 

His hands settled firmly on your waist, his thumb stroking you a few times before he pushed his hips in until they were flush with yours. It was a gentle, slow movement. It had been a while, he was sure you needed time to adjust to his size. He watched your face, looking for any signs of discomfort, satisfied when he found none.

“You take me so well.” He murmured, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. His hips began to move again, this time in a rhythmic motion. Gradually, he built the pace up, unable to deny himself the pleasure he so desperately craved. The noises you made only encouraged him, he basked in the way he could make you feel this good.

After a moan that was a bit too loud, you brought a hand up to cover your mouth, not wanting anyone else to hear. With a low gutteral noise, Price grabbed your wrist, pinning your arm above your head, moving it away from your face. Looking up to him, you saw a bead of sweat trickle down his flushed face.

“Let them hear.” He grunted, pressing deeper into you. “Let them hear how fucking good I make you feel.”

!!! END OF NSFW !!!

You ended up spending the night in his room, the night never seeming to end. By the time you woke up the next morning, your entire lower half was sore as hell, but it wasn’t unbearable. The sound his alarm is what broke your sleep. 

Groaning, you nudged his shoulder, not wanting to reach over to him. Even though his chest was enticing as hell, you knew better than to get him all worked up before a mission.

“John.” You shook his shoulder again, causing him to stir. “Get up, old man.” You giggled, watching him blink his eyes open and throw his arm over to stop the alarm. Groaning, he sat upright, swinging his feet off the bed and rubbing his eyes. After a minute or two of waking himself up, he looked over his shoulder at you. You saw how his eyes widened and you looked down at your bare skin.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he reached a hand over to trace the bruises he’d left on you. It was a mix of his fingers and hickeys he’d put on your body in the act, but it made him feel guilty nonetheless. His eyes trailed up, feeling worse as he forced himself to count the number of them.

“You’re apologizing for making me feel good?” You shot a confused look at him, raising your eyebrow slightly. “John, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m gonna bloody worry about it.” He groans and rubs the bridge of his nose. “If anyone asks.. Christ, I don’t know. Make something up.”

“Our relationship is no secret.” You reminded him, a tinge of confusion passing over your features. Normally he didn’t mind if people saw the result he’d made on you. You weren’t sure what was so different about this time. “But.. If it makes you feel better, I’ll cover up.” His eyes met yours. He sensed that you noticed something was up but didn’t bother explaining himself.

“Let’s get ready for this mission.” He murmured, standing from the bed and reaching for his uniform, kicking his discarded clothes as he walked over to where it hung up. “I’ll see you on the transport.”

[theghostinmeisyou]

I know I already posted smut today, but that was like 6 hours ago, so! Have some more

Word count: 1380

Rating: E

CW: Cursing, rough sex

“When I get back, I expect you to be naked, waiting for me on all fours,” is what he said before going on his next deployment, this time without you,because  a stealth mission shouldn’t need a doc.

You’re conflicted; was he being serious? Sure you’ve been flirting for some time but honestly you thought your interest in him was unrequited and that he was simply joking, but now?

Still despite the doubts you find yourself in his office, naked, although not quite on all fours yet. No, you're sitting in his chair, occasionally glancing over at your clothes, considering getting dressed again and rushing out before anyone notices you. But you stay.

And the door opens, making you freeze up for a moment as you wait to see who’s there, and as your eyes fall upon that oddly attractive mask of a skull, you relax some, yet there’s still tension in your legs, fighting your flight response.

Neither of you speaks for the longest time, or at least it feels like a good while, as he stares at you without giving away any emotion, and you stare right back, legs crossed and leaning back.

Finally, he speaks, “Thought I told you to be on all fours.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words; so he wasn’t joking, or maybe he still is, he’s so hard to read, but at least he’s not yelling at you to get the hell out, so that’s a win.

“Floor’s dirty,” you reply, trying to smile a bit.

He closes the door and you swallow hard. So it’s really happening.

“And you aren’t a dirty girl? Maybe I misjudged you.”

“Maybe you did, or maybe I just have higher standards than that.”

“Is that so?” Ghost steps closer to you and you notice the darkness in his eyes; the lust.

He doesn’t speak further as he stands next to the desk, just a foot or so away from you, and likewise you remain silent, waiting, anticipating.

His gloves gets discarded, and with strong, battleworn hands, he runs the back of his fingers up along your arm, every touch bringing forth a ripple of goosebumps. You haven’t been touched sensually since you joined the task force, and no, masturbation doesn’t count here.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he moves his hand higher and higher, past your shoulder, grazing your collarbone, up your neck till he cups your jaw.

You stare up at him still, patient, hopeful, horny, but his eyes linger on your lips, and he runs his thumb across them. Instinctively you open up, and as if he was hoping for just that, hums delightfully as he drives his thumb into your mouth.

A slight, teasing moan escapes your throat as you suck on his thumb, and finally he meets your eyes. He’s starving, you’re willing. Ghost pulls out his thumb again, brings his hand down to cup your breast and rubs your nipple with his wet thumb.

You can’t tell much about him, you only really know he’s from England, but there’s no denying that he’s liking what he sees. 

“Stand up,” his voice is gruff and demanding, like a lieutenant's voice should be.

And you do as you’re commanded, slowly getting out of the leather chair, leaving behind a damp spot where your pussy was, proving just how excited you truly are.

“Bend over the desk.”

Again, following orders like a good little soldier.

Excitement shoots through you when you feel a hand on your ass, gently caressing the curve of it, squeezing it just hard enough to elicit a gasp from your lips. Looking behind you you see Ghost leaning to the side, getting a proper look at your well sculpted cheeks; training has done wonders for your assets.

Ghost hums in contemplation, before guiding his fingers to your soaking wet cunt. Another gasp comes forth, this time louder and closer to a moan, as you feel his fingers dive through the slick of your lips.

“Ahh,” you whine when he finds your pulsating clit, but the pleasure is brief as he pulls his hand back, teasing you by running his digits up and down your private area, from your clit and almost to your hole, then back again.

“Mmh, don’t tease me, please,” you beg.

“Oh? And who put you in charge here?” You’ve never seen him smile before, but you can practically hear the smirk on his tone. And he continues the same rhythm.

“Ghost, a-aah, I’m begging you.”

“Tell me what you want, then.”

“I-I want, fuck, I want you inside of me.”

“Like this?” And that’s the most warning you get before he pushes two fingers knuckle deep into you.

You clasp a hand over your mouth as electricity shoots through you, and when he bends his fingers, your thighs quiver, heart beats a mile per minute, breathing gets all hot and heavy. With every thrust of his thick fingers it gets harder and harder to keep quiet, as he runs across all the right sweet spots inside your pussy.

“Ghost, shit- ahh-”

“Good girl, saying my name like that.” His voice practically rumbles through you and you grab at the edges of the desk, knuckles turning white from the tension.

So you say it again, now knowing it gets a rise out of him, “Mmh, Ghost.”

“Keep it up and you might just get what you want.”

And who could say no to such a proposition? You surely can’t, moaning his name among the sweet curses and vocalization of your pleasure.

Eventually he pulls his fingers out, leaving you whimpering and lonely, but that doesn’t last long, as you feel the head of his cock lining up with your eager cunt.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans out as he drives his shaft into your hole, watching as you swallow him inch by inch, which there are quite a few of. 

“Oh, haah,” falls from you lips, as much as you try to keep down, you want him to know that he’s filling you up so perfectly it feels like you were made for each other.

“Bloody hell you’re tight, arrh,” he says but it does not sound like a complaint at all.

It doesn’t take him long to grab you by the hips for leverage and start fucking you like a wild, uninhibited animal, tip to base with every thrust into you. You want to scream, cry with joy at how he punishes your pussy, ramming against your uterus.

He pulls out entirely, but before you can complain, he flips you around so that your back is against the desk. “I wanna see what I do to you.”

His hands grab you by your wrists and pins you to the wooden surface, then begins to pound you like a beast again, staring near unblinkingly with those dark brown eyes at how your brow knits together, eyes roll back in your head, lips parted wide as you gasp for air.

It’s embarrassing, humiliating, thrilling to be so exposed whilst he’s practically fully dressed, like you’re something to be admired as your breasts jiggle in rhythm with his intoxicating cock entering you.

“G-Ghost, I’m close-” you whimper, trying to keep your voice down.

“Good. Show me how I make you cum.” He leans in, looming over you, and intertwines your fingers.

You squeeze his hands as you reach the pinnacle of human physicality, choking on your own moans as your back arches off of the desk, legs tensing up and keeping him still tightly against you while you spasm out of control.

“Perfect,” you hear him mumble near reverently, and you wonder if you heard right.

As you’re out of breath, limbless and exhausted worse than the rigorous training you undergo, he starts again, hands on your hips, using you as his fuck toy to reach his own impending orgasm, no matter how much you whine and whimper at the oversensitivity.

“Fuck, that’s good, arrh, haah.” Brutishly so, he grinds against you, filling you up with his cum, his grip on you is going to leave bruises that you will cherish.

When Ghost pulls out you feel his load dripping from you and onto the floor below. Then he smacks your ass and chuckles.

“Get dressed, love, we’re done… for now.”

[saellefanwork]

𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬

Kamado Tanjiro x DemonSlayer!F!Reader x (Past) Rengoku Kyojuro

Reminder: This Demon Slayer fic is rated Explicit (adults only) for canon-typical violence and, disturbing and explicit sexual content

Return to Chapters List

Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Mentor

Tanjiro and you don't cross paths again for several weeks, until Tengen plans an infiltration mission in the Red Light District.

Author Note: The timeline here is different from the canon story (characters are older, it's implied that Tanjiro has been Kyojuro's tsuguko for a while before his death). That's why Yoshiwara's team composition is also different. Since this is not a fic focusing on the Demon Slayer story, but rather on the relationship between the characters, I skipped the fight scenes. So there won't be any epic battles here, unlike in my other fic "The Tears of Time".

TAGS applying to this chapter: Red Light District Arc, Grief, Sad, Angst, Depression, some Healing though?, Near Death Experience, Ghost, No sex here, only Feels, hints of Tanjiro/Kyojuro's Platonic Love

Several weeks passed without Tanjiro visiting you. Missions kept pouring in relentlessly, and it seemed that the hierarchy, perhaps aware of the changes in your relationship, no longer assigned the two of you on expeditions together. The solitude the young man experienced, punctuated by moments spent with his friends, provided him a degree of perspective on the situation. Despite regularly inquiring about your well-being from the girls at the Butterfly Estate (although they didn't always give him answers), he remained convinced that he had made the right choice.

However, this conviction did little to quell the emptiness he felt without you by his side. While he hoped to reconnect with you in the future, he couldn't envision how to do so without falling into the same patterns as before. After what had happened, perhaps you no longer desired his presence, not even as a friend.

One day, Tengen summoned Tanjiro and Inosuke at the Butterfly Manor. The three of them were tasked with investigating the mysterious disappearances of prostitutes within Tokyo's infamous red-light district. The Sound Pillar had previously dispatched his wives on an infiltration mission in brothels there some time ago, but they had returned with no significant findings. But it seemed the demon living there was active again, as there was an unprecedented resurgence of crimes, prompting the Corps to take action once more.

"We need an additional member, preferably a girl," Tengen declared, his strong arms crossed. "Let's get Aoi," he commanded, pointing toward the main wing of the building, where the butterfly girls were working.

Tanjiro furrowed his brows. He had been raised with manners and harbored deep respect for his superiors, especially his new mentor, who had taken over his training following the Flame Pillar's tragic demise. However, it contradicted his very nature to ignore the call to protect those who couldn't fight.

"Let's leave Aoi alone; she is already making significant contributions to the Kisatsutai," Tanjiro argued. "Can't we request another female Slayer for this mission?"

"They're a scarce commodity. My wives are on another operation, and Zenitsu's late puberty facial hair would make for a terrible courtesan. Your and Inosuke's looks, on the other hand, can still deceive some with some makeup and disguise. Unless you have a better alternative, be prepared to enlist your sister for the task," he concluded.

Tanjiro was about to protest when a voice interrupted him.

"I'm coming with you."

The young man's heart skipped a beat as he turned around, spotting your silhouette in the shadow of the building. You stood there in your Slayer outfit, your katana secured at your waist. His chest tightened, and without thinking, he whispered your name. Despite the circumstances of your separation, he had missed you dearly.

You stepped toward them, fully revealing yourself in the daylight. You had lost weight since your last encounter, and dark circles had formed under your eyes. Your usually well-groomed hair was unkempt, and your uniform appeared somewhat shabby. Tanjiro looked at you with concern, but he summoned the strength to smile gently and offer a greeting, which you acknowledged with a nod.

You couldn't help but notice that he had once again cut his hair short, just like when he had first joined the Corps; you guiltily wondered it was a result of what had transpired during the last night you shared.

"Hmm..." Tengen eyed your tenses expressions alternately with a skeptical expression. "Weren't you supposed to be prohibited from heading on missions together, following Kocho's request?"

"If I volunteer, then it's fine," you replied curtly.

"Well, that settles one issue," Tengen shrugged, displaying little concern for your love drama. "We'll keep Nezuko as a backup. We’ve wasted enough time already; let's go!"

"Wait, Uzui-san!" Tanjiro turned to you. "Are you sure about this? It could be the work of an Upper Moon. I'd rather... have you stay safe here," he admitted.

You were hurt that he considered Nezuko an option for this mission and not you. Despite being in a fragile mental state, you were still a competent Slayer.

"It's precisely because it might involve an Upper Moon that I want to come with you," you declared firmly.

I want to be there to protect you if possible, especially now that I'm stronger than I've been since... the incident on the train. And if you were to die, I want to die alongside you, you mentally added, but you kept your thoughts to yourself, aware that he wouldn't agree with your mindset.

Tanjiro was not a telepath, but your scent and determined expression spoke volumes. He knew he couldn't convince you to stay behind, yet he still felt uneasy about the idea of you joining them. It was evident that you hadn't had a good meal or rest in weeks. His master grabbed him by the collar of his haori and turned him toward their departure.

"Listen to your woman if you want to succeed in life. Her opinion matters the most, second only to the God of Festivities. Stop wasting our time and let's move!"

"Your woman is a pain in the ass," Tengen complained just two days later. "She's exhausted but refuses to sleep. She's like a zombie and is inefficient in her research."

"This mission is tough, and she's doing her best. Plus, I told you it wasn't a good idea in her state, Uzui-san," Tanjiro sighed, not wanting to argue further about the topic. "And please, stop referring to her as 'my woman.' She's... just a dear friend. You know very well that she is Rengoku-san's fiancée."

"Hmm, whatever you say, your heart's melody doesn't sing the same tune when you see her. Besides, Rengoku is dead," Tengen remarked casually.

Listening to his words, one might mistakenly assume that Uzui didn't hold much regard for the departed Pillar, but Tanjiro knew better. The two men had been close friends; the shinobi had simply grown accustomed to burying his loved ones and moving forward.

"That still doesn't change the fact that she's not my woman," Tanjiro responded sourly. He carefully smoothed the folds of his kimono and checked his reflection in a mirror, ensuring that the makeup you had applied earlier remained intact. With night descending upon them, everyone had to return to their investigations separately. "I'll head back to my brothel. I think I've found a lead... I'll reach out to you when I get more intel."

The echoes of roaring flames and crumbling buildings gradually faded into nothingness, as Tanjiro teetered on the brink of life and death, poisoned by Upper Moon Six. His vision plunged into an abyss of darkness. Within this eerie realm, an icy stillness prevailed. Tanjiro wandered aimlessly, guided by an indistinct longing for something he couldn't define – perhaps a way out of this frightening place. He could discern your scent. Maybe you were close to his body.

He longed to return to you so badly...

"Kamado!" a voice called out from behind him.

Surprised, Tanjiro's gaze shifted to the silhouette of his former mentor standing only a few steps away. Kyojuro's arms were folded, a gentle smile graced his face, and his fiery eyes were locked onto his tsuguko.

His white and red haori was draped elegantly over his shoulders, waving slowly behind him, and the golden buttons of his Slayer gakuran gleaming softly. At his side, he carried his trusty katana with the flame-shaped tsuba that Tanjiro had inherited. The Hashira looked exactly as he did in life, radiating strength and vitality. His very presence dispelled the surrounding darkness, providing a reassuring warmth, much like before.

"Rengoku-san, Aniki!" Tanjiro exclaimed, tears immediately welling up in his eyes.

He stepped toward his mentor, overwhelmed with the desire to embrace him before stopping himself, remembering the gravity of his current situation.

"Aniki... I'm sorry. I failed. I slew an Upper Moon with Uzui-san and the others, but I couldn't protect the people of the entertainment district... a lot of people have died. And as for your fiancée, she's alive... However, I couldn't fulfill my promise to take care of her. I did all that I could, but... I just can't fill the void you left..." Tears now flowed freely down Tanjiro's cheeks, and he futilely wiped them away with the sleeve of his uniform.

The Flame Pillar placed a reassuring hand on his tsuguko's shoulder.

"Kamado, my boy, you were magnificent. You fought valiantly, and I commend you. You pushed your limits to the absolute extreme and emerged victorious. Thanks to you and your friends, these demons won't harm anyone else and will face retribution in hell. As for my former fiancée... I know the current situation is difficult for both of you, but she truly loves you, believe me. Hold on to hope. The two of you will find your way through this."

"You're mistaken, Aniki. She has eyes only for you; she doesn't like me that way. I fear I've only made things worse for her by trying to grow closer to her. I... I'm so sorry... I feel ashamed. To think that you had discerned my feelings for her when you were still with us, and instead of resenting me, you entrusted her to me... and yet, I failed..." Tanjiro's voice trembled as he sobbed, his tears mingling with hiccups.

He held Kyojuro in such high regard, idolizing him as much as he envied and begrudged him for occupying such a significant place in their lives, especially in yours, only to leave behind an equally immense void... The idea of letting him down was unbearable.

Kyojuro's spectral form embraced him gently. Though insubstantial, his warmth immediately enveloped and consoled his protege.

"Kamado... have more faith in yourself. She loves you. She chose me because circumstances made her realize her feelings for me before the ones she harbored for you, and I was deeply honored that such an extraordinary woman wanted me. But I'm certain she already loved you when I first met her. Don't try to take my place. You're an exceptional young man. Hold your head high and set your heart ablaze, especially in the face of adversity. She will return to you."

Tanjiro managed to suppress his tears and stared at his mentor, who was so kind and encouraging. His smile and reassuring gaze had the power to reignite even the most dimmed flames within one's soul. Despite the passage of time, this man would eternally remain a role model for the younger Slayer, someone he would forever admire and regret. He vowed to himself that he would heed his master's words and attempt to regain his self-confidence, honoring him in the afterlife.

"I'll do my best, Aniki," Tanjiro promised with a feeble smile. "At least, if I survive... I think I'm dying..."

"You're alive. Nezuko neutralized the poison, and you'll wake up shortly. Take care of yourself and our beloved, Tanjiro. The three of us will meet again in our next life."

The Hashira pressed his forehead against his subordinate's then straightened up, affectionately ruffling his burgundy hair with a broad smile. His silhouette vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared, but the warmth he emanated lingered long after his departure.

Tanjiro gradually regained consciousness. He was alive, albeit severely wounded, amidst the debris of Yoshiwara. The rest of his team was surrounding him, bent over him with worried expressions. He was so grateful that nobody had died... But perhaps his greatest reward was your presence close to him.

You wept profusely, cradling him in your arms.

"Tanjiro! I thought you were gone... I was so terrified." You hiccupped loudly, unable to stifle your sobs.

"Thanks Gods, Nezuko managed to burn the poison with her Blood Art. But you're still seriously injured... focus on your wounds to stop the bleeding, okay? The Kakushi will arrive soon. Hang in there and stay with me, Tanjiro. Promise me?"

He stared at you for a few moments, taken aback by your pleas and your tears. They weren’t for your fiancé, but for him. He turned his face slightly, nestling his cheek into your warm hand.

"Always," he whispered, closing his eyelids with a faint smile.

You were expecting (dark) smut, you got bittersweet relationship development instead. Maybe in next chapter ;)?

Tell me if you want to be tagged for next and last update of this story!

@gyusimp @kimiwotabenakatta-blog

Next chapter: "Closure" (will be released in two days maximum)

[ihatechosingnames]

HSR Analysis about the Xianzhou Arc

With 1.3 Hoyo give us the official end of the Xianzhou Arc and I don't think everyone is satified with the last Trailblaze Quest. I think if they gave this mission with 1.2, it will have been a bit better. Not the best, but seriously, it was just a quest on going around places. But the final cutscene… was worth it the wait.

Let's go in order. 1.2 Starts with the unlikely quartet composed by Stelle, March, Welt and Tingyun managed to go to the Alchemy Commission where we see the fruits of Fu Xuan's commanding power as an acting general.

Let's skip fast and go to the moment when Fu Xuan tasked the trio to go and help by diving into the mist and turn off the Elixir Crucibles.

A precision, she asked the "unexpected guests" cit Jing Yuan because

Never once she says that Tingyun was to help them, Tingyun's job was to bring them to places, like the Artisanship Commission or the Alchemy Commission. If you paid attention, while we walked to the crucibles there was a piece of conversation

Here she sounds actually excited, while at the beginning Tingyun wasn't that happy to be in our company, she was nervous because the situation was unstable. So, here, I suppose, is Phantylia already talking. Or let more of her own personality shine.

Now, after the battle with Dan Shu, she said two things:

So, at first, it seems like Phantylia gave the Stellaron to the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus (DoSM for short) and made a promise with them. And it wouldn't be wrong to think this way, Phantylia is a Lord Ravager, a follower of Nanook, she should be able to have a Stellaron at ready. Actually, I read a very interesting post here on Tumblr about language, and I think that while the English translation is good, it may lose some context in between the translation. Like about the subjects of a phrase. The exact content of the promise between the DoSM and Phantylia is still missing, but we know one objective: fuse the power of the Abundance with the power of the Destruction.

And it's terrifying if you think about it: Destruction has a huge attack, Abundance can cure itself... and we already saw a character who has both: Blade, a character on the path of Destruction who is also struck with Immortality. In gameplay he sacrifices a part of his HP to do more damage, only to regain later.

Let's go back to Tingyun and Phantylia. Like Welt says, mostly to reassure both March and Stelle, there is no certain hint to say that Tingyun was working willingly with Phantylia, but without the body, we don't know.

Which is a good question. But, for me, no body, no death. It basically is a rule in writing a story: if you don't find the body, that character can always appear later. So, the fact that Phantylia didn't leave a body will lead only to one thing: the body was fake. If she left the body, Fu Xuan would have realized immediately that Tingyun's body wasn't the real deed. Which it will bring us, by doing a jump, directly to the last quest, the "funeral". We met a lot of people who knew Tingyun, but the entire thing about Tingyun left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Even Yukong says some things that contradict herself

But, after some reconsideration, it has some strategy to that. Phantylia says "It would've been nice to observe a little longer" before revealing herself in her ghost-flame-like appearance. Possibly, Phantylia didn't want to reveal herself at all, let the DoSM and the Cloud Knights kill each other while she stays in the background and sees how the Xianzhou Loufu destroys itself from the inside. By declaring officially that Tingyun is dead, doing the all funeral and letting the Trio gives the news, it would destroy every other chances for Phantylia to use that face again. Meanwhile, Yukong would search for her but not in an official way. Strange that we didn't find any letter like the voiceline says, or maybe they didn't search her shop.

My considerations: they did everything to say that Tingyun is dead without saying explicitly, but I stand my ground and say Tingyun is not dead, not yet anyway.

But let's go back to the past, after this Trailblazer quest, the narrative switches its main character and we are back to Dan Heng! Like I said, he is the second main character on this arc and it was done perfectly.

Seriously, the switches between our characters, Dan Heng's parallel but different journey to his past... well done, HOYO.

Our more unlikely TRIO, Dan Heng, Sushang and Luocha, arrive in the same place, probably a few moments later our other trio left.

Sushang went back to the Cloud Knights, Luocha has one more deal to see and Dan Heng needs to leave before they ask who he is.

The past haunts Dan Heng, literally, the ghost of the past lives of the Vidyadhara appear to talk to him and Blade, the man he usually he runs from is waiting for him.

that woman, perhaps Jingliu?

The one thing I can't explain is the transformation in Imbibitor Lunae, why the change in clothes? Dan Heng wasn't fashionably enough with his regular clothes and needed a change? Anime Logic, I know.

And poor Yanqing, that tries to fight literally legends, first Jingliu and now Dan Heng and Blade together.

Luckily, to babysit everyone there is Kafka. Look at Blade! He looks like someone who is regretting his choices.

Before reuniting with his friends, Dan Heng says a few words to Jing Yuan

which is something really important. Dan Feng and Dan Heng are two different persons, even if Dan Feng didn't go through the hatching cycle. Right now, he is Dan Heng of the Astral Express and I was almost in tears in reading it, since there were many red flags about Dan Heng leaving the Astral Express Family. Even the scene that is a call back to the beginning, with March and Stelle's hands stretched out to Dan Heng was touching

DO NOT SEPARATE! My babies çç

From here, everything seems to go fast. The cutscene with the music and the CGI that was the waves was so well done (basically all the money went to the waves), they went to fight Phantylia and what a fight it was. But unfortunately, our MC didn't get the power of the Hunt. Looking at how the story went, it was kind of assumed but not granted. The Xianzhou didn't lose faith in the Aeon of the Hunt, not like Cocolia did with Qlipoth. And in this Arc the moral protagonist was Dan Heng, with his past and his quest to accept but also move on with his future, it was not a time for our MC to get a power up. Maybe in the next world, unlike Genshin who has a fixed number of places (7 Archons, 7 Elements, 7 Nations etc), Honkai Star Rail is bigger, it has a lot more of Aeons and we have seen the powers of Aeon whose Path is not playable, who says that HOYO won't introduce more playable Paths?

Phantylia is merely playing with us, she is barely amused with our performance. In terms of boss fights, Cocolia is more emotionally charged and the best for music. Phantylia is part of a bigger story, the same story that Elio scripted and Kafka is directing and, as Kafka said, we gained a powerful ally in the Xianzhou Luofu

And I'm gonna bet that during the final fight with Nanook, the Xianzhou Loufu will appear as the cavalry, just like Jing Yuan did in the Dan Heng Companion Quest.

In the end, the Xianzhou Arc was different from Belobog Arc, the ending was unsatisfying because there were still a few things missing, and it didn't feel like an ending, like it did with Belobog with the nice pictures, it was more of a "see you later", so if I can guess, there will be another arc in the Xianzhou and it will be about the post cutscene.

I'm still a firm believer that Luocha is not Void Archives, but he played a part in this. He likely brought the Stellaron to the Xianzhou, possibly smuggled Jingliu to Xianzhou, all for destroying the Abundance.

It was an incredible cliffhanger that leads to more questions than answers. We now assume that Luocha smuggled the Stellaron to the Xianzhou, Jingliu wasn't on the ship only to search for Blade, Jing Yuan needs a vacation and never comes back to his place as General.

So, final consideration: we are not over with the Xianzhou, even with our jade abacus, we will need to go back and in that time the MC will get the power of the Hunt. This arc is like a chapter 1, a chapter where we met most of its characters, it explained the conflict between Lan and Yaoshi, the problems that Yaoshi's gift left, it gave us the first glance to the bigger story with Elio and his Stellaron Hunters and their objective to kill Nanook. While Herta Space Station was a tutorial and Jarilo-VI was an opening act for the ways of trailblazing (a story that have a conclusion and we are only witness to their efforts to move on), Xianzhou is the very first big world where there wasn't a real ending. Yes, we stopped the Stellaron, but the conflict is still happening. We have more information about us, about one of our friends, we have met the Stellaron Hunters, talked to them (Silver Wolf is the more social of the group and has visiting rights!), but it's like we have gained nothing because there is still so much to do in the Xianzhou.

I'm sorry if this is too long, but for me it's important to say that the last quest we did in v1.3 wasn't the final quest for the Xianzhou, we just put a stop to Trailblaze more, but we will be back for a second chapter on that ship, after all "there is still more to explore".

[hitlikehammers]

The After the Sex and the Love and the Calm Storm (Steddie Pirate AU)

(I regret to inform you this is the end storm wherein bad things do in fact befall the boys)

🌊Under the Water (Our Hearts Will Dream Again)🌊

Chapter Six: Quite So Cruel

ONE // TWO // THREE // FOUR // FIVE // Chapter Six on 5 April 🌊

also on ao3

They are about as far from land as they ever venture—they’re risk-takers, and they’re foolish, the lot of them, you don’t become a pirate in the abundance of fucking self preservation and brains—but they’re not suicidal.

So: this is familiar, but further would be more than they venture toward.

That’s not to say others abide by the same limitations.

Steve stiffens in Eddie’s arms for no apparent reason; though the important observation is apparent, because Steve…does very little without reason.

He grabs Eddie’s hand, squeezes it and draws it to his lips for a kiss to the knuckles before untangling himself where they’d simply been resting, pressed body to body in comfort, where if Eddie concentrated very hard he could make Steve’s pulse out where he sprawled in Steve’s lap, pressed tight to his chest; but then Steve’s standing, letting go of Eddie’s hand with an apologetic grimace before he breathes low:

“Only a moment, angel,” and Eddie does melt easily at such ineffable endearments; “just need to test the currents.”

Which isn’t outside the norm, by any means: Eddie doesn’t comprehend how it’s done, or what it entails, or indeed the purpose it serves but Steve stands—sometimes with Eddie at his side—

Only…it’s not sometimes that Eddie’s stands at his side.

It’s most times. All times, Eddie would venture the wager blind.

Which sinks through the split of his heart right to his guts, when he lets the implications of this time, pursued alone, to sink in.

Eddie is barely on his feet to follow Steve unbidden, heart ricocheting, quaking from his ribcage and up his throat, when his arm is caught. All motion in his frame arrested for the hand on his sleeve, clenched around his limb: vise-tight and commanding, unforgiving, but desperate.

Eddie looks up, knows the touch is not its tenor simply for the shape of the hand, and Eddie needs to amend his assessment: his figure is frozen. His lungs are stuck.

His heart is shaking, for the wide frenzy in Steve’s eyes.

“They are almost upon us,” Steve pants, chest heaving, his hands on Eddie heavy, his hold so impossibly tight; “too swift and too much heft,” and his face drops, his breath catches and his eyes look bright almost stung to tears as he reaches a hand, cups Eddie’s face so soft, almost terrifying for how it juxtaposes to the death-grip he keeps on Eddie’s shirt, Eddie’s arm.

Eddie can near feel the break of his vessels to shape a bruise in the shape of Steve’s hand and he hates, he hates how his mind immediately whispers poison:

To keep for when he’s go—

No. No, Eddie doesn’t even know what’s happening, what’s the matter; he can’t afford to jump to conclusions—

His heart won’t withstand jumping to those conclusions—

The rest of the ship takes time to be roused, and if they did not trust in Steve’s uncanny intuitions they’d stay put but he’s not been wrong yet: a vessel is gaining on them, larger but somehow faster, pirates alike but no pirate crew is an ally to another, especially not in open waters, and Steve is certain they seek to do harm. They seek to plunder, certainly. But then: worse.

Eddie grabs for him, pulls him around a corner and asks how he knows it’s worse, where his fear is rooted and Steve stares at him, those sea-shift eyes flashing before he grabs Eddie’s face and draws him in, kisses him harder and needier than he’s ever done before and Eddie’s heart skips then surges for all the worst reasons when Steve pulls back, bows his head to Eddie’s brow and breathes:

“Blood,” and Eddie shivers for the closeness, for the word, for the promise of violence in the waves; “blood in the air, in the water,” and how Steve knows Eddie cannot guess, supposes it another talent learned where he hails from a world away, but Eddie never once thinks to question it. Because this is Steve, with whom he shares a bed. With whom he shares his heart.

If he’d had doubts, though, the way Steve looks at him—soft but unafraid, remorseful and yet so tender as he traces Eddie’s features, caresses his face; Eddie could never question this. No part of it. Not for an instant.

“I am sorry, my darling,” Steve breathes almost sorrowful, and the tides dip a little, the ship along their lead, as if Steve’s grief is deep enough to stir the fathoms below; “I’d have stopped them if I could.”

And Eddie cannot have that sorrow for nothing; reaches swift to catch Steve’s hands and brings them close first to his lips, then to his chest.

“You’re not to blame for pirates who seek to raid other pirates,” Eddie reasons, lifting one hand back now to cup Steve’s cheek just as dear, likely moreso, unable and unwilling to mask the depth of his feelings in a moment such as this. “It comes with the territory,” he tries to lighten the breaths between them, tries to reassure and steel them as one, together and united.

And Steve does not deny him, but outstrips him without seeming to intend it at all: he stares at Eddie as if he sees him in shades and frames beyond the perception of an ordinary man, watches him as if he can see the pump of his heart stripped bare and still he is steadfast: steadfast and unwavering, but then atop it all he is dangerous and somehow alight as he vows:

“I will not let you come to harm.”

And he draws Eddie in to kiss near violent for feeling, but this Eddie won’t be outstripped in, and meets him for every scrape of teeth and thrust of tongue.

And when Steve pulls away, the cries of the approaching enemy no longer approach, no: now they are here—but when Steve moves to meet them, Eddie stops him, traps their hands together against Eddie’s fitful heart and breathes:

“I pledge the same.”

And Steve’s eyes do impossible things, catch impossible light, before they settle on a soft regretful thing, an affection that fears but will not yield, and he holds tight to Eddie’s hand as he leads them to where the noise grows, swells: they’re being boarded.

“Stay close,” Steve breathes as he reaches for the pistol at his hip.

“Steve, I,” Eddie isn’t even sure what he means to say but Steve halts it quick enough he has no reason to learn; jerks him to a stop and hisses with the depth of an Ocean until himself:

“Stay close,” and Eddie nods, words beyond him, and draws a sword. Steve eyes him sharply.

“They will not all keep to the blade,” he warns, and Eddie nods, understands, then tips his head to Steve’s own firearm.

“I am quicker with this,” he assures, and Steve, bless him, doesn’t argue, doesn’t quest: trusts in kind.

Eddie’s heart still proves fool enough to swell, even as they cross into the fray.

They’re surprisingly not wildly outnumbered, and the invading parties expected to catch them wholly unawares: they press an advantage for it, and more than even the odds within mere minutes. But once they are evened, Steve is correct: they favor pistols.

And they are quicker than Eddie with them.

Eddie watches his crewmates fall, and slits throats without thought, quick and reliable, one after the next and they fall, and he doesn’t bother to think that he hasn’t found need to dodge a blade or a bullet yet, especially as his compatriots cry out or fall still and half-cold before they even can.

He doesn’t think, until he feels the impact: not of a bullet. Not of a blade.

But a body. One he knows so well, so intimately, pushing him with a purpose.

The way it slumps, a good five feet from where Eddie lands, and the groan that creaks from that direction, the way beloved hands clutch against the broad span of a chest: Eddie’s entire world shudders, goes dark at the edges when it becomes very fucking clear what the purpose was.

He sees the perpetrator, stalking close to finish the job and Eddie doesn’t think, sees the gleam of a gun held loose in dead hands and he grabs, aims, and pulls the trigger. And again. And again.

When he is certain the assailant is good and dead, he scrambles to Steve, still splayed on the deck, still clutching his chest.

His chest blooming red swift beneath his palms.

“How,” Eddie gasps, his vision still tunnelled, his tongue too thick; “why did you—“

“You were about to come to harm,” Steve croaks, simply, but as if the words cost him gravely; “what did I say, about that?”

He quirks a brow, even as the stain spreads beyond the cover of his hands, stretches rhythmically, as if, as if…

“Steve,” Eddie gasps, pleads, breaks because the stain spreads to a rhythm, and the would is in his chest—

Eddie reaches, moves Steve’s hands that are just resting, barely keeping pressure, and tries not to think of what it means that Steve maybe cannot hold with pressure as he leans his weight, his whole self onto Steve’s chest, the flutter of his heart that’s coloring his clothes, that’s draining his flesh to match the moonlight: far too pale already and no, no—

“But I gave you my heart,” Eddie insists, confounded, because the scene before him is impossible, it’s not possible even as that same heart trips frantic; even as he’s just barely keeping the words from spilling forth on a sob; “I gave you my heart, so you’ll be fine,” because he will, he must be, Steve must be; “you’ll be fine, because it’s still beating,” and Eddie’s hold is pressed tight to the hole ripped through Steve’s chest but he can feel the beating beneath it, because he can hear his own pulse in tumult but Steve’s heart is slower, the gush of blood between Eddie’s fingers gentler, the pulse driving it is sedate, even; is slowing, is fading, is leaving—

Eddie’s breath only manages to barely wheeze from his lips in a whine, because this cannot, he cannot—

“The heart of the whole Ocean, you said it,” Eddie gasps, whimpers, pleads because Steve told him, because Steve said so, and—

“The Seas would be dry, and I would be dust if you,” Eddie shakes his head, rakes denial over hot coals that will envelop him if he cannot blink and awake for: this nightmare, this hell, this—

Steve’s shirt is crimson, now; the blood pooling its own ocean beneath him, soaking the boards. Eddie cannot breathe.

“Beloved,” Steve barely manages to mouth the words, but Eddie feels them in the way his blood insists on continuing to move, and the same in the way Steve’s seems impossible to tempt into staying in motion, staying with Eddie—

“Take my heart, in this,” and somehow he mustered the strength to cover Eddie’s hand over the barest twitching left in it; “it’s been yours already, long enough,” and then Steve’s hand slips, and the less-than-a-beat under Eddie’s palm flees, and he presses harder, he tries to find it, how could he have lost it, where is it, where is—

“Steve?” Eddie is foolish enough to choke the name, when everything in him knows, and refuses to accept, that there will be no answer.

Ever again.

“No,” his voice shakes, though its steadier than any other part of him, and then, then—

There are no words for the sounds that escape him, animal and visceral, wrung to splatters and shattered beyond recognition, to less now than dust: more fitting, in honesty, than any words could have struck.

There are no curses, in any language or tongue, fit for gods quite so cruel.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

divider credits here & here & here & here

🌊ao3 link here

[thegeminisage]

okay WHEW it's star trek update time. last night* we watched tng's "interface" and ds9's "the siege." *i'm typing this at fuck o clock and scheduling it to go up tomorrow when i'm not here <3

interface (tng):

i don't want to talk about it

actually wait no yes i do but mostly i just want to complain. i wish there was perhaps some sort of skip/watch list with the dead parent episodes labeled. for star trek. i mean i know i'm making one but not that one i can't use that until it's too late. i can't crowdsource EVERY dead parent episode of star trek through my tumblr followers. though i will say whoever warned me about 4.02 of ds9 (i forgot which person it was, i'm so sorry 🙏) has my deepest gratitude. ok. complaint lodged.

what else...um, geordi and data. emptiness. Yeah

yeah. that's all. sorry. my spidey senses started tingling about halfway through the episode and i googled whether or not his mom really was dead and upon receiving my answer we stopped the episode to go directly to ds9.

the siege (ds9)

LOVED this one. where do i even begin

well i will begin at the obvious: women! kira and dax in the shuttle. mwah

what i loved most about kira and dax in the shuttle wasn't even the homoeroticism, though i did - of course - deeply enjoy the homoeroticism. what i loved MOST was that they seemed to have invented a personality for dax at last! i have no idea what was going on in this episode or who this dax was or where she was during s1 but i REALLY liked her. it's shocking bc i almost gave her LAST PLACE in the character rankings, but she was so fun here?? and also kind of like...airheaded and weird. "i might keep the nose." seems like they really DIDN'T know what to do with her in s1, but better late than never. i will continue to try and forgive her really terrible hair even though it makes her head look soooo weird and offputting

big spider bad. actually it was too stupid looking to be scary but i still didn't like it

quark and odo's gay little goodbye <3

julian FUCKING bashir pretending he was hot shit when he held those guys up. KING.

actually all of the action sequences in this episode were great. all three of season 2's episodes have been really funny even as they're also very serious at the same time, i fucking love it

love also the little nod to o'brien's service record on the cardassian front in the way of wartime rations. not only is it funny but it is, again, a great reminder of his cardassian trauma, and why he might feel obligated to stay behind

SPEAKING OF. everyone in ops, down to the last person, agreeing to stay at ds9, even though some of them have families like o'brien does. i'm SO glad they didn't forget his family, that they actually showed him and keiko arguing about it, but he STILL felt morally that he had to stay - that it was more important than his own life, and the risk of his family having to continue on without him.

PLUS the fact that not a single person wanted to leave, even after sisko assured them that they SHOULD think of their families...girl he is literally the best captain or commander or whatever. that's stone cold loyalty. they all trust him or love him or both.

i was a little ambivalent on li nalas as a concept but he actually was used finally...i think "off the hook" was a great way to take care of that arc neatly, because making him live the lie would have felt cruel, but him just ghosting would have made him look like an asshole, no matter how justified. i hope there's a bajoran afterlife he can chill out in

did we get set up for season-long villains with winn and jaro? that would be fun. the concept of "storylines" feels so foreign in a star trek show but there it is........

TONIGHT: tng's "gambit part i" and ds9's "invasive procedures," which with any luck will hopefully be about subjects besides dead parents 🤞