#Maybe it's ironic that I think everything has something pleasing about it if you look hard enough

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Uncaring

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 2) part 1

-

The solid hand at your back guides you through the dusty streets towards the courthouse in the middle of town. It’s not an easy walk. Your shoes catch on the skirt of your dress a handful of times in Price’s haste, each time almost causing you to tumble forward before you manage to catch yourself. 

It’s patently unfair. The strides of his long legs would easily have you losing him in a crowd were it not for the way he refuses to leave you behind; every time you so much as slow down a tad to catch your breath, the firm hand on your low back presses you forward again. You’d be snippier if you weren’t still addled from the events of just five minutes previous.

“I beg you, please—” you plead, heart skittering in your chest when you chance a glance up to find Price’s face set. Everything about him feels purposeful now, driven. “If you just—if you would just let me explain!”

“Nothing more to know, darling,” he says, not bothering to meet your desperate eyes. Clearly not in any mood to continue arguing with you on the status of your identity. 

He tugs you along when he takes a right turn down a road leading into the center of town. The belt of bullets around his waist rattles with every step. It’s a constant reminder of who you’re with and why you should not be with him. Every step feels like a step towards your own sentencing, like accompanying your jailer to your cell. It’s perhaps fool’s luck that the sheriff hasn’t inquired further into your identity or your reason for coming into town. Makes you think that perhaps there isn’t yet a warrant out for your arrest. Maybe that’s only to come. 

“Sure there’s more!” you insist. “There’s—there’s—” It’s like the words fly right out of your head, bucked off like a bronc rider. Too much has happened in too short a time. “There’s the matter of—oh, would you quit that, I am walking!” The last bit comes out snappish, peeved as Price pulls you towards the stone steps of a red-bricked building. 

The words County Court House are inscribed above the second-story door girdled by a wrought iron balcony. It’s a simple building, far from the colonnaded buildings from back home with their cupolas and hand-carved lintels. Even in size it hardly compares, a meager three stories with perhaps a basement. Still, it catches the eye in a town as small as this, by far the most imposing building for miles around.

It’s also the one he pulls you towards, hand moving from the small of your back to take firm hold of your waist. You flinch at the touch and the way his fingers dig in, almost proprietarily. It’s a physical shock to your system. While you’re not unaccustomed to the rougher ways of men, you’ve also been largely shielded from it yourself. By chance or fortune or luck. Men may take an attitude with you, as they’re wont to do, but none have yet manhandled you the way Price feels free to do. 

“Take a big step there now, darling,” he says, lifting the front of your dress for you a tad, to your shock. “No accidents before the wedding.” 

“The wedding?” you shriek, face heating at the heads that turn to look over at the two of you. 

The courthouse is bustling with townsfolk, still not as busy as in the bigger cities back east, but still clearly at the center of all business activities. The few people that pass you by on the way out of or into the courthouse are bold in their perusal, eyebrows lifting when they take notice of Price at your side—and how could they not, with the size of him and the badge pinned to the lapel of his vest that glimmers when it catches the light. 

“If you were expecting something grander, you should’ve turned up last month when I sent for you,” Price says, stern again. In the foyer of the courthouse, you can see the way the long hallway cuts through the building, leading into the adjacent rooms until finally culminating with the courtroom at the very back. You watch as a man slowly closes the door to the last door, shutting the occupants in. “Might’ve been more amenable to it then.”

“I’m not asking for a nicer ceremony—”

“Good, then you won’t be disappointed.”

“—but that’s because I’m not the woman that you intended to marry in the first place,” you finish, quieting to a hissed whisper, conscious of those still lingering close enough to eavesdrop. In all likelihood, the other people milling around probably already know that the sheriff has been waiting for his mail order bride to arrive. They wouldn’t be the first people to mistake you for her.

He pulls you into an alcove off the side of the foyer. When Price turns to face you, no longer just the heavy presence at your side, it takes a moment for you to gather your bearings. He seems larger somehow, with his arms crossed over his chest and feet rooted into the floor, drawn up to his full height. The hair on his forearms draws your eyes momentarily before he steps into your space, forcing you to meet his eyes again. 

He stares down at you with an intensity that makes you flinch. “Now, far be it for me to say that I know my wife-to-be by her demeanor alone, given that we’ve hardly corresponded beyond our initial agreement. But I find it mighty strange that a single, unaccompanied woman would show up in town with all of her earthly belongings as I’m expecting my own woman to show up any day. Hardly seems coincidental.”

“Don’t you think I would have sought you out if we were intended to wed?” you ask beseechingly. “Or that I would put up such a fuss now? What sort of bride would do that?”

“You want to know what I think, darling?” The timber of his voice deepens as he lowers his head slightly, wrapping the conversation in a layer of intimacy despite its public nature. There’s a darker note to his voice now, a thinly-veiled anger. “I think you’ve been keeping yourself housed and fed off the back of men like me and the money you’ve been sent to compensate for the rough journey. I think your guilty conscience brought you here because you know that the Lord doesn’t look too kindly on swindlers and thieves.”

“I’m not a thief,” you hiss in protest, affronted. Ironic that you’d be insulted by his words when the truth is far worse. 

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Price permits, a reluctant softness in his voice. “But your conscience did you right. Marriage will suit you far better than a life of crime ever could.”

If only he knew. “You’ve still got it all wrong—I’ve never once even glanced at the matrimonial pages or the personals. And I certainly didn’t come to town expecting to be wed.”

You did, however, arrive in town with a guilty conscience. Even you’re wise enough not to mention that, though.

“Then if you're not her, who are you?” he asks. 

It’s clear from his tone that Price doesn’t believe you, but the question itself makes you antsier than even the thought of marrying this man. He still stares down at you in challenge, an eyebrow cocked. If you wanted to, you could easily answer his question and even furnish proof—a letter from an aunt or uncle or a telegram from a previous employer. 

That last thought makes your throat squeeze tight. You could furnish proof, but at what cost? You’re still unclear on how much information has been disseminated or whether you're a wanted woman. Though only weeks have passed since the event that caused you to flee in a haste, there’s no telling whether a warrant has been put out for your arrest, no telling whether word has reached a town this far west. 

“Not that it matters, but I’m from New York,” you say, scrunching up your nose. 

The look he gives you is unimpressed. “I’m sure you lost the accent on the train ride.”

Embarrassment makes you dig your heels in deeper. “I didn’t grow up there, it’s just where I’ve lived for the past few years.”

“And what’s your name?”

“…Elizabeth Smith.” 

It’s the first name that occurs to you, but the moment the words come out of your mouth, you can’t help feeling like you’ve made a huge mistake. Price must sense it too because he draws back up to his full height, lips twitching into a small smirk. 

“You have family or a post back in New York, Miss Smith?” he asks in a patronizing tone. 

“Family.” 

“Alright, then it shouldn’t be too hard to get confirmation and settle this whole issue.” He points behind you to one of the unoccupied rooms. “Telegraph’s office just behind you. We’ll get in touch with the Census Bureau and ask them to confirm your identity. And, if you are who you say you are, Miss Smith, then we can put this issue to rights.” 

Your blood goes cold. “That’ll—that’ll take time though. I can’t marry you today if they only get back to you in a week’s time.”

Price nods, his expression dissatisfied but resolved. “Wouldn’t be proper for you to stay at the house either, but I’ll make sure the inn lets you stay free of charge until this is settled. You’ll be in good hands under the Pattersons’ watch.” 

He doesn’t say it outright, but you hear the implication in his words. You’d be essentially under house arrest, perhaps free to move about town, but certainly not free to take the next train out. 

Your pulse thumps nervously at the base of your throat. Even swallowing takes effort now. The weight of his stare takes root in you, a living coil in your belly. No getting out of it. There’s no getting out of this. You don’t know why you thought you could, how you tricked yourself into thinking for even a moment that a man as formidable as the one set in front of you would simply give in. Let you go. You’ve hardly even moved the needle. 

It’s there still in his eyes. Not even doubt—something quite far past that. Certainty. 

“‘Elizabeth Smith of New York’, was it? Come, we’ll have them start the message and you can give me your birthday as well so it’ll be an easy find—” Price says, attempting to slip around you to head to the telegraph’s office. 

“No.” 

It slips out of you inadvertently, high and panicked. He pauses at the word. More than just your words. When you look down, you notice your fingers clenched in the fabric of his sleeve, bringing him to a halt. It pulls taut against the muscle of his forearm. 

Softness bleeds back into him at your touch. You can see it smooth out the lines of his forehead and the jut of his brow. He ignores the onlookers still hovering by the double doors to twist back to you, now obscuring their view of you. The breadth of his shoulders nearly blocks the rest of the foyer from sight when he looms over you like this. Down the hall, you can hear a gavel pound down on wood and a litany of raised voices in unison from behind a shut door. 

“You don’t have to make up stories,” Price murmurs, drawing a hand up to cup your cheek, holding it like a precious thing. “I told you before—all’s forgiven.”

His words remind you of being trapped in his office, drawers stripped down your ankles and skirt pulled up to your waist. Your bottom still smarts from the palm of his hand, still hot and sore to the touch. It’s hardly been long since then and yet it feels like an age ago, like trying to find your way in a dust storm. 

You open and shut your mouth, lost for a way out. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Marriage or a jail cell. You swallow. Both sound like a sentencing. 

But there are the cold, metal bars of a cell, and then there’s John Price. The first man in an age to elicit more than a passing glance from you. Deep blue eyes crinkled with the folds of old laughter, wide shoulders, and barrel chest. In another time, you think you would’ve jumped at the chance to be courted by a man like him. Keeled over at the very thought of being chased the way he hunts you down now. 

“Alright,” you say instead, giving in. The hand fisting his sleeve shakes. “Alright.”

It’s not a pleasant giving in. Your permission is handed over with shot nerves. The coil bunched up in your core burns white hot, hissing and spitting like a rattlesnake. 

Still, when he drags a thumb over the slope of your cheek, you fight not to let your eyelids flutter shut. “Good girl. We’ll make it work, love. Won’t be easy, but it never is.”

You don’t anticipate that it will be, but your mouth stays shut. Price must think you mollified, soothed rather than resigned to your fate, because he passes his thumb once more over your cheekbone, this time so tenderly that you wait for his lips to descend upon yours again, sure from the heat in his eyes that he won’t be able to keep from stealing another kiss. You lick your lips out of habit—not just to see the way his eyes follow the motion. 

Then the door at the back of the building bursts open to a cacophony of shouts and hollering voices. The moment broken, Price drops his hand away from your cheek, only to take your hand in his this time, pulling you down the hall towards the register’s to await the circuit preacher. He makes you walk on the side closest to the wall, shielding you from the men that burst out of the courtroom, surging towards the doors. You think that someone must have been found guilty because the lot of them look joyous, clamoring over each other for attention. 

You think that you might be spared another minute or two, enough time for them to clean up and reset the courtroom, but you’re shocked to find the circuit preacher ready to conduct the ceremony in the cramped register’s office. He and Price shake hands enthusiastically, the preacher turning to you to grasp your hands in welcome before turning back to the sheriff. They have a camaraderie that speaks of old friendship. 

The cramped room where you’re married smells of patchouli and moth wings, like holes burrowed into sweaters at the back of a closet. The bookshelves along the walls are stacked with books old enough that you know they’d crinkle deliciously if opened. You try to listen as the preacher begins the introductory prayer. Behind you, another man slips into the room, a witness. He hardly bothers to introduce himself for such a brief affair. 

You haven’t been to many weddings, but you always imagined that yours—if you were privileged enough to have one—might have more fanfare. The wedding you actually get is a brusque affair, a brief recital of vows that ends only when the preacher enjoins Price to kiss his wife. 

His wife. 

Your eyes go wide when a hand flattens along your spine and pulls you into a hard chest, John dipping his head down to kiss your mouth again. His kiss is less chaste this time, not restricted by convention as earlier. This time, his tongue licks hot into your mouth, like no kiss you’ve ever had before, beard scratching your face. His mouth tastes like something you’ve never had before, like heatburst. Hot and wet. Soft and suckling. Any kiss you’ve had before pales in comparison—juvenile fumbling, all dry and half-humiliated, unsure of yourself. Nothing like being kissed by your husband.

Your husband. 

He only pulls away when the preacher finally clears his throat, a tad embarrassed. You’re too dazed to feel the same, fingers still sunk into the lapels of Price’s vest, clutched there. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and your hands to unclench. You feel Price tug your hands away and slip something onto your finger.

The few documents needing to be signed hardly takes any longer. You finally notice the man that had slipped in behind the two of you, a masked man even larger than Price, who nods at him before glancing at you only long enough for you to notice that his eyes seem curiously blank. 

“Thanks, Simon,” Price says as the man—Simon—signs under your names, but he only grunts. The ink is still wet when he leaves. 

“How was it so fast?” you ask absently, staring at the papers as the ink sits drying and the preacher takes his own copy before handing John his. 

“Everything’s practical out here, darling.” His hand holds you by the waist again, relaxed this time. Not worried about whether you might run. “Even the weddings.”

“You don’t…you don’t even serve dinner? Invite guests over? No gifts?” The questions are irrelevant, but you ask them anyway because it’s a way to focus on anything other than the preacher handing you the final copy of the papers and Price leading you back down the hall and out the doors. 

There’s a ring on my finger, you think, looking down. It sparkles when you twist your hand from side to side. Topaz, instead of diamond. 

“Maybe if you’d showed up on time,” Price reminds you. He no longer sounds upset about it, but it still seems to come out as an admonishment. 

You don’t respond to that. Perhaps you’re still shell-shocked, looking at the world through new eyes. It feels unreal that in the span of less than a day, you’ve been plucked up and married off, to the sheriff no less. The one man you would’ve tried your hardest to avoid crossing paths with. 

No chance of that now. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, still in a daze. The sun makes you squint when you leave the courthouse, making you miss the hat back in your room at the inn. Maybe you can convince Price to let you go back to collect your things.

“I think we’re due for a honeymoon, don’t you, darling?”

You go doe-eyed at that. When you look up, your husband is already smiling down at you, crow’s feet wrinkling at the sides of his eyes. 

“Let’s go home.”

[cupid-styles]

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

[gamerwoo]

dumb/random things skz would do while ur dating

a/n: don’t ask me what this is or why i came up w it these are just Thoughts That I Have Sometimes 

-

chan: if he has spare time and gets bored, he’ll splice up voicemails or voice messages you’ve sent him to make you say random shit and then he sends it to you out of nowhere with absolutely zero context. it could be anywhere from the raunchiest, dirtiest things you’ve ever heard, to just straight up dumb things, to him making you say how amazing and great he is and how much you love him. either way, he thinks he’s hilarious

minho: literally just stares at you for no reason. you’re on your phone across the room and he’s staring. just deadpan staring. and once you notice and make eye contact he gives you a mean look like you were staring at him first and he’s mad about it. even after you look away, he’s still staring. if you ask what he wants he’ll be like “why tf are you staring at me?? get a hobby, freak”

changbin: actually expects you to open doors for him and pull out his chair and lay your jacket out over a puddle. if you don’t, he just stares at you and eyes the thing he wanted you to do for him. obviously you’d never put your jacket over a puddle when he could literally walk around it but he’ll scoff and dramatically roll his eyes and make some comment about “guess romance really is dead” or something dumb

hyunjin: maybe he used to actually sketch you really nicely at one point but now he’s comfortable with you and now the only times he draws you is a really rough and quick sketch that’s so poorly done and it’s always you making ugly faces and he just slides it over to you and goes “this is you rn" and it’s you looking very pissed off and with a unibrow and you’re shrimp-backing so hard

jisung: keeps making those powerpoint presentations for you about different topics but he only makes them between like 11pm-3am so the farther into it he gets, the weirder it gets and the less sense it makes. usually the topics don’t really make sense either, though. like the time he showed you ‘101 reasons why you should still love me as a worm :)’. but there was the time he presented you with ‘69 reasons why i love you’ and even though 25% of them were weird things like ‘your breath smells normal’ and ‘you haven’t committed a felony so i don’t have to have a long distance relationship with someone in prison’ you still thought it was pretty sweet

felix: if you think he won’t act like those cringey gamer couples, you’re so fucking wrong. whether he’s doing it ironically or seriously, he’s going to drag you into his shenanigans. your names on different games have to match. they’ve been shit like ‘their dps / his pocket’ and 'grilled cheese / tomato soup’ to unhinged things like ‘mike huchie / mike hunt’ and ‘blowing smoke / smoke’. he always thinks it’s so fucking funny but you want to die. your discord names are ‘their daddy / his kitten’ and whenever you change it, he changes it back

seungmin: he does literally anything and pretends it wasn’t him. plays with your hair while you’re cooking dinner, but when you turn to look at him, he looks around and starts whistling. he’ll knock your closed water bottle straight out of your hand for no reason and then shrug at you like it was the fucking wind. even when he kisses your cheek he’ll gasp and be like “who did that?”

jeongin: he’ll act cute or whatever when he wants something but god forbid you do it back. the amount of judging he’ll do will make you want to leave the house. “please don’t ever do that again, you’re embarrassing me” as if you didn’t just copy everything he’s ever done to you. he’s gone so far as to pretend he doesn’t know you out in public over this. only he can be cute to get his way. if you do it, it’s cringe

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 24﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Geto Suguru x F!Reader -> Size Kink

Summary: After returning from your trip, you found out your boyfriend is not okay. Maybe a vacation (To Venice) ;) would help. (Mentions of Deppressed!Suguru, angst, breakdowns, toothrotting fluff and comfort, Satoru being a wonderful best friend, Suguru healing) ❤️‍🩹 Basically hurt-comfort with size!kink 😭

Warnings: Angst, breakdowns, Suguru’s deranged and suc!dal and has murderUrges, Reader (us) comfort him and pull him out from it. Mentions of reader’s breakdowns, cus I mean— 🤷🏻‍♀️ Look at him!!?? Nipple-play, breeding, softsex, sensual, FLUFFY AND NICE AND SUGURU’s so Spoiling towards us it’s just 🙈

A/N: Guys I had sm fun 🥹😵‍💫🩵 writing this I swear!! Hurt-comfort is like my favorite thing in the whole wide world <33 I love to characterize Suguru & to play around with his character. *Screeches and screams* 🍨🍦 I made him yummy thank me later xx Also can we look at the images of him above 🥵 size kink BRRRR

"If you really think, you can do everything, take everything in, save people, and somehow save yourself along with the deceitful thinking that you will protect me. Then you're wrong!" Tears welled up in your eyes, the pain clearly imminent in Suguru's eyes. He looked dead inside, and no mourning was soothing your ache for your older Suguru. You just, missed him beyond beliefs… even when he was right beside you. You hoped he would response to your cry of pain, your bleeding words, but he didn't have it in him anymore. Suguru had almost, given up on himself.

Your hands found themselves clasping onto his collar, pulling him closer to you. "Suguru, look at me, I am telling you something. Can't you fucking see how much it hurts!" You screamed, losing your calm, your temper. It felt ironical to complain to him about how much it's hurting you. You can see he's got it worse; the nights full of terrors and the days full of decaying cursed spirits. You were an empath for your lover, and it was clear staying near him was subjecting you to everything he felt. He doesn't want to see you this way, desperate and hurting…

"I'm sorry, Angel." Suguru sighed, wrecked with the way you burst into tears and hugged him. Voice choking onto sobs as you earnestly tried clutching onto him for dear life. "Sugu, come back to me please come back…" You cried, wailed and eventually dropped onto your knees. The incomprehensible feeling, the heaviness of the things Suguru was going through was making you breathless.

Suguru's heart was only breaking further apart, watching you slowly scrape away in front of him. "I want to kill myself." He finally spoke up, "No, truth is, I want to kill everyone."

This was the first time Suguru was opening up, and no matter how brutal it sounded, his eyes were still kind. Maybe because it was you, in front of him. "You are a sorcerer, too, I shouldn't say this to you, but I hate those monkeys." He radiates pessimism and negativity through him. Yet, you smile a little.

"Come with me, go away with me." You held his hands, squeezing them tightly as if you were grateful they're not cold. You truly were. They were warm, they were still your Suguru's hands.

"Please, Suguru, let's go away for some time." You urged, and he knelt with you, hugging you tightly, not caring about the whimper that escapes you because of his firm grip.

"Running away, won't solve anything." He echoed, and you felt your stomach sink. Soft sniffles echoing in the room as you shook your head like a tantrum-y child.  "No, we will solve everything. You and I, we can solve everything. No matter what it is." You cupped his face, becoming stronger for him. "It's okay to feel like this Suguru, it's okay. I'm here." You nudge, watching his eyes showing signs of at least, some life in them. "Can you, not give up?" You meant on himself, you meant on everything.

To make sure, he understands… you hummed again, "makes me feel like, I'm being abandoned."

Suguru blinked at that, letting your words settle deep within. "Makes me feel like, I'm not even worth fighting for." You looked down, not having the guts to say this to him while making eye-contact. "Please, let's elope somewhere Sugu." You crooned, babying him almost. "I will follow you to the ends of the earth anyway, even if your path is changed." You hum, and with the way your pupils fixated on your hands intertwined, Suguru knows you mean it.

"Okay, maybe… I do need a little get away." Suguru smiled tenderly, partial charm returning to his eyes.

Oh it felt like rain in famine, "Good, thank you, I love you."

"I love you too, my Angel."

---

The next thing was you booking tickets to go to Europe. You urged Satoru and Yaga to not assign any more missions for Suguru. It was hard, you and Suguru were both powerful special grade sorcerers; but hey- you both had Satoru to rely on. "I told you the moment he lost weight, he wasn't doing okay." Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes, tapping at his feet impatiently in the café you decided to meet him in. "What the fuck is up with being the one to hide things?" Satoru was pissed, why would his best friend not communicate? "Makes him feel less of a man?" You chuckle at that, you knew Satoru loved him almost as much as you did. "I've persuaded him to go on a trip with me." "You did?" Satoru was… amazed. These days, Suguru wasn't even joining in for any normal outings. Wasn't going out of his house for weeks, wasn't even meeting you. Things worsened when you left to Korea for a mission longer than 3 weeks. You had to stay there for some Jujutsu School Collaboration initiative. That's when Suguru was off his leash, truly at his worst. Taking missions more than he should, succumbing to the darkness of his mind and the curses.

"Just, want you to handle things while we're gone." You sipped onto the iced frappe you've ordered. Meanwhile Satoru ate a mochi, seemingly absent-minded and bored. "You don't have to worry about that, you know I'd do that in a heartbeat for him." He bratted, raising a brow at you. "And you…"

You smiled at that, nodding gently. It felt good to have the 'Strongest' so whipped for your boyfriend, and platonically you, as well.

The higher-ups posed a threat, as always. 'Why is Suguru Geto not on missions?' ; 'Did he get off the job of a Sorcerer?' especially the cunt-faced Principal of Kyoto. You and Satoru personally paid him a disrespectful visit at his school. Nothing he can complain against, wouldn't sit well to anger two special grades, will it? Despite showing that the Sorcerer world is only filled with people who are willing to take on the role- example: Nanami switching from corporate jobs to a sorcerer job… it was still, at the end, a disgusting, foul powerplay hidden beneath shackles of rules. If you are a special grade sorcerer, they'd do anything to hold on to you. Even blackmails are not far off the list. Emotionally draining…

---

"I have booked us a flight to Venice, baby." You sat cross legged on the swing chair Suguru's house has, fondling with your iPad and searching for hotel venues. "Venice huh." Suguru was still numbed, but at least, not he couldn't avoid you because practically you lived with him now. "Yeah, we can go to Switzerland, and also wherever you want. I hear Germany this time of the year is beautiful." You croaked excitedly, swaying your legs as he walked towards you, sitting on the chair in front of you. "Satoru told me you and I are on a vacation for months." He came directly on the point. "The trip isn't that long, is it?" He manspreaded, raising a brow.

You gulped, smiling softly, the last thing you need is him feeling 'weak'. You had to approach this carefully. "Suguru, I think you and I have done enough missions for a while. I want us to spend some time together, to ourselves." You added some degree of truth, "Also, I don't want you to keep eating curses and letting them eat you from the inside and I don't want to lose the person I love the most in my fucking life." With the way you affirmatively snapped, there was no way, Suguru would battle against it. A soft nod was all you got as a response.

"Alright, I will handle the packing. Don't want you screeching like a wild animal when you discover you forgot your charger." He leaned in, giving you a chaste peck & you giggled. "Of course."

---

The packing, the preparations, the dressing up and going to the Airport, the flight where you slept leaned against his shoulder. All went by in a tender haze of beautiful memories. Inflicted and infected by his sadness, still. Though you wouldn't mind. You're ready to accept him rotten if needed.

When you two reached Venice, the Victorian style hotel with the boats and the beautiful lakes was in fact, refreshing for him; and you. You knew it because Suguru had stopped going to your shared balcony of the house, now here he was, standing there, observing the people. The couples giggling and kissing each other, the boat rowers singing in their native Italian language, the streets with so much hustle and bustle… yet calming. You hugged him from behind, breathing in his scent. "Like it?" "Love it, my beautiful baby." He crooned back, turning towards you and pulling you closer to him by your hips. "I love you." He chanted, almost in a way that he used to when he first asked you out. These past few months were hard and rough, but if you were able to have him back, even infinitely slowly… you'd dedicate it to eradicating all his sadness.

"If you want, I can dress very Lana Del Rey today and we could make steamy love." You giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly. Suguru and you… yeah, haven't made love in a while. You'd never push him when he isn't feeling it, and naturally, someone who's suffering so much would have it at the last thing on his mind.

"You're right, how disappointing of me… I don't remember the last time I treated you, I worshipped you." He thought out loud, and you pouted. "It's okay Suguru, don't think about it like that. Think about how you're gonna make it up to me." You stuck your tongue out, giggling.

It's the way he looks at you, like he's starving and you're delectable. It's the way his eyes are loud enough with their projection of love that it quiets the world down for you. It's the way Suguru Geto breathes, that makes you love him so much you'd break.

Right now, he's doing the same thing… being himself. Hands wandering to your sides and helping you wrap your legs around his waist as he walked towards the shared bedroom of the hotel. Leaning in and kissing you passionately, shoving his tongue just to show how much he's been deeply yearning. Admiration coated in every action. "So lucked out that I have you." He smiled to himself, kissing your forehead deeply once you were nestled into the succumbing softness of the mattress.

"Same," you grin back, watching him undress you with his eyes first, and then his hands followed. You mimicked the same movements.

"I can't handle the fucking hotness!" You whined, once he was left in his pants, upper body naked for you to devour. Suguru chuckled, heat rushing through his cheeks and core as he cupped your face, kissing you once again.

The thing about you and him is, Suguru is big. He's built like a bulky man. Stretched to 6'3'', broad shoulders that'd hold two of you, hands big enough you miss almost an inch if you were to compare his with yours. Yeah, Suguru was big and you were tiny. Something that only aided to you being subbier and smaller to him. Letting him manhandle and take all the control that he wants to.

"Who do you belong to, darling?" He cooed, watching you instantly answer. "You, forever and always."

It warms his heart when he hears that, spreading your damp pussy lips with his fingers and thrusting a finger into you. It's been… long. He knows it with the way you're clamping for dear life, just on his digit. "Sh-i-t," You croak out, while Suguru hushed you with a soft kiss, slowly moving his finger in and out of your pussy. Once he felt you had accepted his finger's girth, he inserted another one. "AH god-" You whined, mewling at the delicious stretch of his thick and long fingers being coated with your essence. "You want to make sweet love and you're so worked up with the fingers alone." He chuckled to himself, stretching you out so good, curling them against the familiar sensitive spot.

Your back arched, the way your pussy clamped as if she was a slave to his hands and cock.

"Oh she's close." He cooed, "Go on, cum for me then I can ruin you with me." He kissed your pelvis, holding it down as your orgasm raked through you, approaching fiercely and shuddering your body against him as waves of pleasure took over you. "Good girl. Good little girl." Suguru praised, riding it out for you. Once the orgasm's high settled, Suguru took out his fingers and suckled onto them, eyes never leaving yours.

"Want you, so bad!" You gasped out, pulling him closer to you by wrapping your legs around him, feeling the imprint of his cock into you. "Alright alright, impatient little girl." He smirks, pushing the tip of his pre-leaking cock into you in one swift stroke. Mean, Suguru Geto is mean sometimes… especially when he wants you to be scream at the stretch only he can give you. No one else, he wants your pussy to know only how he feels. Damn he's big, and when he pushes himself balls deep, your pussy is strained beyond its limit. "Shit- s- so big Sugu." You whimper out, tearing up at the ache.

"Ssh, it's okay darling. I'm still. Adjust to me, go on." Suguru patiently waits, kissing your face all over, leaning in and kissing your breasts, suckling onto your nipples while you clamped and waited for the pain to settle in.

"Move, please…" You glance at him now, doe-eyed and insatiable.

"Of course, took you some time to adjust to me huh? Tiny little baby." He smiles, thrusting into you without relent. Your womb stops him from going in any further, your insides torn apart deliciously at the feeling of being ploughed by him. "Oh- G- oh God," words fail you, the air choked out of your lungs with how good it hurts, with how pleasureful it feels.

Suguru's hand laced around your pelvis, pressing on it gently. "Got you," He smirks cockily, holding your hand and keeping it on your pelvis, enveloped by his own as he pressed.

A shrill scream filled the room, "Oh you can sense it, can't you sweetheart? Sense how deep I reach?" You moan at the pressure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge as you hopelessly nodded. Gasping and choking on air. "God yes, Sugu- AH please- oh my- g'nna," You whimpered, while Suguru was at a rhythmic pace now. Sometimes pulling all the way out and pushing back all the way in. He loved seeing you walk the rope between pleasure and pain.

"Good girl, with the way you're holding onto me, I can sense you're close." Suguru hummed, grounding you with his kisses, his spoiled little praises.

"Go on, show me how much you missed me."

"Just like (thrust) I (thrust) missed (thrust) this (thrust) pussy-" Suguru toppled off the edge right with you, painting your insides white with his warmth. "Oh god- fuck-"

You shudder, spasming around his cock and milking him further.

"That's it, I got you. I got you." Suguru reminded, leaning in and kissing you softly, tenderly, as if you'd break if he were to touch you wrong.

"I missed you, I missed this." He mused to himself, blushing a little at the sight of you fucked out and half-lidded. You nodded, still taking ragged breaths. "I love you"

"I love you too, Angel."

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

every love i've ever known has been drenched in blood; teach me how to unfurl these fists, show me where to put down this knife.

ax72 x reader: the fireman feels like something special.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, oral sex (f on m), biting (briefly, okay?), crying, dirty talk (tasteful but serious. i'm not kidding), just all my typical stuff (and all my usual ax72 stuff - so legs and limbs and size and the like). don't read if you're not 100% sure).

(a/n: my favorites! thank you for being patient with me. for your reading pleasure, may i present to you a ax72 fic in which he is a volunteer fireman and you are plagued with fear and self-doubt! i'm joking, but not really. i couldn't not write something for him after the insane start to the season he's had - penalty minutes leader darling deserves a treat. obviously none of the details make sense, none of the dialogue is realistic, there are way too many dramatic speeches and angsty confessions, but you guys know that at this point. to anyone who may relate to what this main character is going through, please know you are not alone. it is very easy to push good things away because they scare you. but to be scared is to care about something. follow your fear, stalk it, don't let up on it until it leads you to something lovely, something real. pretty please tell me what you think. i think jh86 may be next but i'm still storyboarding. for now, i'm sending you and your snakes every single bit of courage and love i've got. go canucks. until next time).

that first night was cold like an absent mother. cruel and unforgiving, unavoidable.

the cold was weathered, however, but the hushed laughter and bickering amongst your housemates as you all exited the front door, smoke alarms blaring, loud and relentless.

"do we actually have to evacuate if we know there's not a fire?" your roommate asked, covering her ears with her hands.

another housemate sighed. "maybe we wouldn't have to if you hadn't left your curling iron on for three fucking hours."

your roommate grimaced. "my bad, guys. this one is on me."

you couldn't help a laugh as you threw an arm around her shoulders. "we know, sweetness. live and learn."

someone groaned. "it's frigid out here, jesus."

you nodded in agreement. the alarm had begun to sound at just after two in the morning, meaning everyone in the house was dressed for bed, all thin sleep shorts and fleecy sweatshirts, no where near enough to combat the brisk air, which was already starting to make your teeth chatter.

"great. here comes the government," one of your friends said, eye roll evident in her voice as the sound of the siren began to overtake the tamer sound of the smoke alarm.

you and your roommate giggled at her comment as you huddled together. as a polysci major, she had an opinion on everything, including all facets of the public sector. for example, the fire department, who pulled up to the curb at that moment in their truck.

"who's going to do the talking?" your roommate whispered to you.

"you?" you proposed, raising a brow. "it's your iron, hm?"

she groaned, but nodded. "this should be good."

three firefighters hopped down from their massive rig, looking even more menacing in their heavy fireproof gear.

"hello, officers," your roommate began, stepping forward and away from you to speak. your shoulders shook in a laugh.

"they're not officers," you whispered to her.

"hello, gentlemen," she corrected. "i speak on behalf of our entire house when i say we appreciate your punctuality."

one of your housemates hung her head in her hands. another one groaned.

"i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say there is no real danger?" one of the firemen said, his tone steady.

your polysci friend nodded. "correct, sir. your services are no longer required."

the three men now stood just in front of you, allowing you to get a true look at them.

the one who had spoken was older, probably thirty five, shorter than his coworkers but obviously the chief. he continued to speak with your roommate about the situation as the rest of you watched on.

the next in line was taller, lankier, with a goofy face and a goofier presence. he appeared unsure of his limbs, how to keep them still.

when your gaze drifted to the third, however, your breath caught, that familiar but long-forgotten whirlwind in your stomach. your eyes drank him in greedily, the way a child gulps down a soda at a friend's house. so similar, someone in your mind whispered don't tell mom.

he was the tallest of the three, and the broadest, too, his chest a wide expanse, arms and legs practically tree-like in his canvas uniform. it was his face that really had you, though. he was beautiful in a way you had never seen before, in a surreal sort of way. the kind of face that saved you in a dream, that you tried to conjure when you woke up but never could.

sharp jaw, sharper nose, the kind of cheekbones you had seen before only in a museum. full, pink, upturned lips, downwards sloping eyes that made him appear drowsy, like the personification of a midday nap. cheeks made rosy by the cold. even under his helmet you could see his thick, dark hair, so soft-looking. that was it, you thought. he just looked so soft, even though he appeared to be made of stone.

his presence made you shiver, which was only deepened when you met his eyes, dark and clear, found them already looking at you.

something in your gaze made him smirk, made your stomach drop. you crossed your arms closer around yourself, suddenly insecure under his scrutiny.

you hated the not-knowing, wished you could see yourself from his eyes, from the outside, so that you may correct yourself, angle and present yourself in some better way.

but his eyes only sparked with danger, not disappointment. cold? he mouthed to you, so as not to interrupt the conversation. his mouth formed the words slowly, deliberately, deliciously.

yes, you thought, half stunned he was communicating with you, the cold is why i'm shivering. definitely not you. definitely not your eyes.

so you only nodded slowly, felt your eyes widen as he walked towards you, shrugging off his jacket.

you stood, frozen in place, as he held it out to you in one huge hand. he offered it to you, someone he didn't know, someone who he owed nothing to, someone from whom he knew he could possibly receive nothing in return. and yet he offered it to you, regardless.

he was so close to you, now, just a step away. you tilted your head up to look at him. "don't you need it?" you asked, willing any squeak out of your voice. surely he would realize his mistake soon, realize you weren't worth it.

his chest shook in a low laugh. "what i need is for you to not freeze," he said, his voice much deeper, rougher, than you could have imagined. "just take it, darling, yeah?"

something in your mind screamed what do you want? at him in a voice dreary with fear, raspy with experience and expectation. what's the catch?

had you met him before? surely he couldn't be this sweet to you upon just seeing you, upon not even knowing your name. had you lent him notes in one of your classes, maybe spotted him a drink at a bar? you searched for an explanation that never came.

but at that point you probably would have done anything he asked, which you knew was not good. which you knew was very, very dangerous.

which was bad, but true, so you shouldered his jacket on, found it almost oppressive in warmth. "thank you," you told him, little more then a whisper, letting your voice trail off like a question.

"arber," he finished for you.

"arber," you repeated, knowing as soon as the name died on your tongue your mouth would feel empty, would long to form the word again.

he didn't walk back to his former place, either, instead electing to stay just next to you. just close enough to make you feel almost faint. one of your housemates wolf-whistled. you imagined the image looked fairly comical, a massive oak tree of a fireman with an 80's mullet and mustache combo next to a university pre-dentistry junior in pajamas, swimming in his coat.

but you couldn't think too much about that as you gave him your name, tried to keep your eyes trained on his face. a tough task, considering the way his arms looked unobstructed by his jacket.

everything about him was distracting. your heart was racing. how were you going to be able to get back to sleep after this?

"well, ladies, i hope you've learned your lesson," the chief said, appearing to finish a speech you had missed entirely.

"sure have, officer," your roommate said stoically.

"not an officer, miss," he corrected. the shake in his head was telling, made your housemates snicker.

"apologies, sir," she finished, giving him a salute.

"sorry you guys had to come all the way out here," one of your other housemates said.

"no trouble at all," arber said, his first time speaking to everyone. he was looking only at you. melting you like snow in the morning.

"until next time," your roommate said with a little bow, turning to go back into the house, now silent.

"there won't be a next time, sweetness," you amended, forcing your gaze away from arber. she waved you off.

reluctantly, you made to shrug off arber's jacket, hand it back to him as the other two firemen got back into their truck, your housemates walking back inside, leaving just the two of you.

"sure you don't need it?" he asked, the roughness in his voice somehow gentle. his words coming out in exactly the shape of the hole in your chest.

you gave a light laugh. "think i'll survive the trek back," you said, referring to the several steps between you and the front door. "thanks again, arber."

"my pleasure, darling," he said, and your cheeks flushed at the term. this brutal cold, you thought, making my face pink.

his lips quirked in a way that made your stomach flip. a way that made you so suddenly sure he knew exactly what effect he had on you. exactly how little the cold had to do with it.

"well," you said, your hands laced behind you, your voice taking on a melodic sort of cadence. "i guess i'll see you around, hm?"

"hope so," he hummed, something amusing in his tone. something careful. "sweet dreams, darling."

"good night, arber," you answered, dazed and blushy. like saying goodnight to an old friend, to a middle school boyfriend, to someone who knew you too personally to be real.

but somehow, it was saying goodbye to someone whom you had known for only moments.

the truck pulled away, you shut the front door behind you.

"should i just leave my iron on 24/7?" your roommate asked immediately, not giving you a moment to catch your breath. "maybe throw some rocks in the microwave?"

you rolled your eyes at her. "oh, please," you said.

"don't worry," she finished, an impish smile on her pretty, round face. "i'll wait until you're in the shower, next time."

you playfully slapped her arm as you made your way back into your room, not bothering to stifle both of your giggles.

you went to sleep that night with mirages of dark brown eyes and corded shoulders in your head. you swore you could smell smoke, could feel flame, could sense danger.

the feeling stayed with you, settled like ash in your bones. a heat, a skepticism, a want, a worry. you halfway hoped you would never see him again, because when had one person ever had such an effect on you? when had you let them?

you halfway hoped you would never see him again, but as soon as you did see him again, you knew that hope had been a complete and utter lie.

it was only a few days later, in the middle of your serving shift at the pub close to campus. only a wednesday, so nothing too busy, just a regular shift. your regular black uniform, long braid down your back with black ribbon, everything the same as always.

and then he was in a booth, practically taking up the whole bench, his deep laugh at something one of his friends had said making you dizzy.

surely it's not him, you thought as you took out your guest check pad, it couldn't be him. how could you have gone twenty one years without seeing him once, then see him twice in a week?

what trickster god was toying with you, now?

and then you were standing in front of his table, and it couldn't be him, but it was. of course it was.

but you didn't know if he would recognize you without your pajamas on, couldn't fathom that he could have dreamed of you with the vigor you had him, so you went on, business as usual.

"hi, guys," you said, your customer service voice ringing through the air like a bell. muscle memory had you placing napkin coasters down in front of each person. "can i get some drinks started for you?"

you took the orders of the others before finally locking eyes with arber. it wasn't any easier than you remembered. it wasn't any cooler, didn't feel any less like being engulfed in flame. "and for you?" you asked, hating how you couldn't just admit to recognizing him. hating how your mind preferred crafting protective plans to just being honest.

but he upended you, as you should have perhaps expected. his smirk was subtle. "am i that forgettable, darling?" he asked, like it was just the two of you.

the answer was so obvious you could have rolled your eyes, but you just cleared your throat and choked on a laugh, happy to have an excuse to show your delight. the insecurity in your head sighed in relief.

"arber!" you exclaimed, clicking your pen nervously, "thought that was you."

he nodded towards your general figure. "good to see you warm," he said with that rough voice you could feel in your chest like a bullet.

you hummed. "good to see you," you said, not bothering to add a condition.

something he noticed, something that made him smile, therefore something so, so worth the risk. your grin overtook your face all at once, toothy and real.

it appeared to shock him as much as you, his expression suddenly one of wonder, of awe.

you cleared your throat again, rediscovered the other people at the table, went to get everyone's drinks and then ran their food orders to the kitchen.

and you tried not to dwell on the way his hand looked around a glass, like it was kid's toy in a play kitchen, tried not to zone out on his lips as they formed words, not to blush whenever he looked at you.

you only laughed, mumbled a thank you when he joking said this was the best service he had ever had.

when he asked how you day had been, you had just blushed, muttered something affirmative, tried not to drop the glass you were holding, hated how anyone's attention, never mind a man's, could render you so helpless.

it was a whole lot of trying, a whole lot of awareness and controlling your own limbs, your own reactions like a marionette puppet. this way, you guided your arms, lined with plates of food. that way, you led your legs. these words, no, not those ones. no, no blushing, no not like that.

your marionette puppet appeared defective in many ways, many frustrating ways.

it was the slowest shift of your life. you felt oh so tired by the time arber's table asked for the check, felt oh so embarrassed by how hard you had been trying all night, hated how it was impossible for you to hide your effort.

it was all over you. it was in the slight sheen of sweat on your upper lip, in the strands of hair that had come free from your braid, in the way your voice shook when he spoke to you, the wobble in your knees when your eyes met.

you were trying so devastatingly hard, and you knew he could see, that everyone could see. was it terrible, was it so naive of you to hope maybe he wouldn't mind? that maybe the effort would flatter him instead of scare him away?

when you came to give back the card and receipt, his friends had gone. it was only him, taking up all that space in the booth.

he smiled when he saw you. it was soft. he was soft, this marble man.

you placed the check on the table. "there you are," you said, threading your empty hands together behind your back, part of you scared their idleness would lead to reaching for him. "thanks for coming," you added, then physically cringed.

thanks for coming? what, like this was some party you'd thrown?

he laughed, low and gentle, at your expression. of course, he was laughing at you. how could he not, with how you were acting? your head dropped like it was full of bricks as you flushed, as hot shame began to pull at the edges of your face.

but then you felt him take your chin in one of his large, rough hands, tilt your head back up high to meet his gaze. there was nothing but softness in his hands, in his eyes. no judgement, nothing of the sort.

his touch felt like drowning in flame, even in this small dosage, and you knew immediately it was too dangerously good. you swallowed.

when was the last time someone had touched you like this and you hadn't secretly wished they would only just leave you alone?

"thanks for inviting me," he said, playing along with your words so mercifully. "think maybe you'll have me again?"

you nodded, couldn't stop your shy smile. "maybe," you said, your voice a breath.

too soon, his hand was gone, leaving your face cold, lacking.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, quiet and hopeful.

"'course," he said, like he would never deny you such a request.

"i sort of feel like i've met you before," you said.

"i don't know," arber said thoughtfully, "think i'd remember someone like you."

your mouth ticked. "someone like me?"

he tilted his head, just looked at you for a moment, his gaze comfortable in its greed, its genuine appreciation. "why do you think we've met?"

you shook your head. "something about you," you said, trying to figure it out yourself. like i dreamed you up, you thought, are you real? are you sure?

his smile was subtle. "hope it's something good, eh? something like you?" too soon, he was signing his receipt, and then he was up, walking towards the door, to his waiting friends. "sweet dreams, darling," he said, like there was no one else in the pub, in this universe.

if he had told you as much, you would have believed him.

after a moment to catch your breath, you took the receipt from the table, found not only a generous tip but a phone number and a child-like scrawl that read coffee?

your head bowed in delight. when was the last time someone had asked you out? had not texted you deep into the night, at the time when the parties were ending and something much more terrifying was just beginning?

when was the last time you were nervous for a date, but the innocent kind of nervous?

you were that innocent kind of nervous when you approached the agreed-upon coffee shop several days later, at the middle of the day, between your classes.

there he was, standing in front of the cafe, hard to miss in stature and presence.

you had spent a scary amount of time deciding what to wear, eventually landing on what you wore everyday. you gave him a timid wave, were met with a confident wave back.

do i shake his hand? you thought. no, i've worn his jacket. maybe a high five?

your overthinking was quickly overwhelmed by the realization that he was pulling you in close for a hug.

you froze for a moment, your mind short-circuiting, your body uneasy, unused to such casual gentleness, ease.

your head against his chest, his arms all the way around you, you probably could have passed out. your mind mumbled something about cardiac arrest as you slowly hugged him back.

he smelled like the forest, like dull smoke and wooden fog.

"swear you get prettier every time i see you, darling," he said as you both pulled away, his eyes full of sweetness.

you had to close your eyes as you breathed out a laugh, already turning pink. "you sure know how to embarrass me," you said, teasing, trying to recover.

he held the door open for you as you both entered the cafe. "it's too tempting," he argued, smiling. "that blush you get..." he trailed off as if lost in his mind. sparks, smoke, flame, ash.

you knew the feeling.

he ordered some kind of sugar-bomb, practically a coffee milkshake, you ordered your usual flat white with soy milk.

and you were out of practice when it came to first dates, but it didn't seem to matter. he didn't seem to notice the pauses you took to think about your words, or if he did, he didn't say anything.

you learned that he was on the hockey team, that he was a volunteer fire-fighter for the school, about where he was from and his family.

he asked about your family, about your studies, about your job, what you did for fun.

and when you told him how much you loved your pre-dentistry classes, he made a joke and popped his fake tooth in and out, which made your laugh come so easy.

you told him how much you looked forward to seeing your sister, how funny your shift the day before had been, how much you loved your house's movie nights.

he asked about you, and it dawned on you that your last boyfriend had never truly asked you simple questions like that, and he certainly had never cared about the answers.

you had sudden flashbacks, you and your ex in bed, you asking him about his week, him giving you some dismissive response as if you had asked him if you could take out some of his teeth sans anesthesia.

how, towards the end, it had felt as if you were engaged in some kind of corrupt exchange, sex for tolerance of your curiosity, sex for tolerance of you.

the memory sent a shiver down your spine, a wave of shame. you could not go through that again. you refused to put yourself through that again.

through the relentless begging for something, for attention? no, begging to be treated like a person? like a girlfriend? begging for him to just be a little more gentle. yes, that's it. you had gone months feeling like nothing but a burdensome bag of stones he had reluctantly agreed to carry around, and you refused to feel that way again.

you just wanted gentle. you just wanted soft, and when arber waved a hand in front of your face to break you from your trance, you realized it might not be crazy to think you were close.

"you okay, darling?" he asked, concern lacing his expression. "lost you, hm?"

"'m okay," you said, shaking your head. "sorry, just thinking."

"'bout what?" he asked.

your heart jumped at the intimacy of being asked such. of someone wanting to know what was going on in your head.

so, you decided to be honest, to an extent. "'bout how 'm very happy to be here, with you," you said, looking him in the eye. feeling no desire to look away.

his face was so utterly pleased. he looked so beautiful then, the sun drenching the side of his face, lighting him up. "makin' me blush, now, darling," he said, and his tone made you swoon.

"sorry," you said, an instinct that made you want to smack yourself.

"don't apologize," he said immediately, "i know i'll get you back."

talking with him felt just so easy that you were again struck with a disbelief that you had only known him for a few days, had only spoken with him a couple of times. you felt like he was inside of your head, like he always had been. something you had never felt before, something that had you saying yes much too quickly when he asked if you wanted to come skating with him that weekend.

you had never skated before, but you were sure if he had asked you to watch paint dry, you would have said yes, because it would have been with him.

but the rational part of your brain was currently overwhelmed by fear, by insecurity, by the terror that you would lose this great thing before you had ever really had it.

"what was i thinking?" you said to your roommate as you struggled to find something to wear. "i have no idea how to skate! i'm going to look like an idiot!"

she waved you off. "you won't, you know you won't. deep breath."

you both took a breath together, tried to exhale some of your nerves.

the quiet that followed felt like another friend. you sighed, sat down on the edge of your bed, held your head in your hands.

"i can't keep thinking like this," you said to her and yourself. "i can't be so fucking scared all the time."

"c'mon, love," she said, sitting next to you and holding you tight. "what will feel better, do you think? coming home after avoiding rejection, walls intact?" she squeezed you. "or maybe coming home with another person to lean on?"

you both knew the answer. you wanted so badly to act accordingly, hoped your overactive mind would let you.

so, when you showed up at the rink, you made the ittiest-bittiest promise to yourself that you wouldn't let your fear get in the way.

if only you knew he would never have let you. that he could never be so easily scared.

he greeted you with a hug once again, and you held him tighter than you had the first time. "thanks for coming," he said, a spark of a shared inside joke in his eye.

"thanks for having me," you replied immediately, a mirroring smile on your face. "'m gonna be honest with you-"

"please do," he said immediately, and you could have melted.

"i have no idea how to skate," you rushed, "so i'm going to be very slow and probably fall and it's probably gonna get ugly."

he let you finish, an amused sort of smirk overtaking his mouth.

"what's so funny?" you asked, furrowing your brow.

"i think you're funny," he said, simply.

you scrunched up your face. "you makin' fun of me, arber?"

he laughed, then, low and rough and grumbly as he reached his hands around you and settled them on the small of your back. "oh, pretty baby, promise 'm not, yeah?"

you pouted, but rested your palms on his chest nonetheless.

his gaze cut through you. "don't expect you to be good at everything, okay? i'll help you," he explained. "just think it's funny you think anything you do could be ugly. imperfect isn't ugly."

"i'll prove you wrong," you said immediately, although you were flushed already, could feel yourself soften, your walls crumble just a bit.

his shoulders shook again. "promise you'll stick around long enough to?"

you had nothing to say to that. what could you ever say?

and then you were out on the ice, more off-balance than you had ever been, and not just because of the skates.

he held your gloved hands in his, tight but not restrictive, keeping his eyes on yours. you willed some of the steadiness in his gaze into your body, found stability in him and let it flow into you like water. he was basically pulling you, but you were moving, and you weren't falling, so you took it as a win.

"'atta girl," he said when you made a turn, soft, proud, and you could have laughed. surely he knew what he was doing, no?

your eyes darted up to his, found a lazy smirk, found your answer.

you shook your head, continued to push with your legs, gaining confidence, gaining balance. "turn off the dream boy for a second, would you?" his smirk deepened. "'m tryna focus, here."

"my fault, darling," he said, false apology saturating his voice as he suddenly dropped your hands. "by all means."

you stumbled forward into him immediately, your body unused to the ice without him to ground you.

you narrowed your eyes at him, looking up at his face, your palms against his chest, his arms around your waist. "not funny," you said, giving him a playful slap. "i could have broken something."

he shot you a look. "you honestly think i'd let that happen?"

your gaze dropped for a second. "no," you sighed. "no, i don't." a revelation in itself.

he pulled you closer, pressed his lips to your hair in a kiss that singed. so quick, you could have missed it. maybe you would have, if you hadn't been so unconditionally in tune to him, to everything he did, to every breath that shook his chest, to every quirk of his mouth and glint of his eye.

your heart sang at the affection you had been so lacking, had somehow missed even though you had never really had it.

so, of course it was a no-brainer when he asked you to come to his next home game.

"i'd really like if you were there," he said as he untied your skates for you, bent on one knee in front of you.

"then i'll be there," you said, flushed, because it was the easiest answer you had ever given. when he gave you that big smile in return, so genuine and goofy, you knew you would have a hard time saying no to anything he asked. just keep smiling at me, your mind begged him. that's all i ask.

the game came quickly, suddenly, after a busy week of shifts and school and everyday things. before you knew it, the day was here, and then you were in the stands, watching him skate like it was second nature, like it came easier than walking.

you had been able to tell at your rink date that he was steady on his feet, but this was different entirely. this was like seeing him at home, like watching him fall asleep.

and it beautiful, it was lovely, it was so intimate until two players started to fight and you realized one of them was him.

one of the people throwing punches that looked lethal, taking fists to the ribs, to the jaw, one of the people with a bleeding nose, a gashed lip, one of the people with blood running down his knuckles - that was your arber. your dream boy.

it wasn't, but it was you - you were the one throwing the right hook, you were the one doubled over, you were the one spitting out blood. you were equally the one punching and being punched. you had set the flame, you were burning.

was it terrible that you felt a little sick to your stomach? you clutched at the edge of your seat, exhaled a short breath, immediately decided you would rather leave than watch blood run down his face on the jumbotron.

as you left the arena, got into your car, drove back to your house, someone in your head was screaming at you, someone with a shrill, panicked voice was screamed scared, scared, scared, scared, scared and you didn't know how to get them to stop.

why are we running? you asked the voice in your head, what are we so afraid of?

what are you so afraid of?

because it wasn't him, you explained to your roommate at some later time, maybe the next day, after the desire to bathe in silence had been overcome by the desire to tell just about anyone.

you were not afraid of arber, knew there had never been anyone in the world more gentle with you. no, there had never been someone who had treasured your heart so truly, who had wanted to understand you to an almost scientific extent, who had dropped into your life like an asteroid and blown it apart just as similarly.

if not him, then what is there to fear?

what is there to fear, if not placing your beat-up heart in his bloodied hands? what is there to fear, if not the desire to press your lips to each of his cracked knuckles, the urge to know him to the point of no return, the want to feel his teeth on your neck, his fingers in your mouth?

sirens went off in your mind. scared, scared, scared.

scared of you, yourself, of offering yourself up to him, to being devastated by him. scared of being so completely vulnerable, of taking all your armor off, finally.

in the end, you were terrified of how scared seeing him hurt made you, because that meant you cared much more than you thought, perhaps much more than you had ever before.

how come no one told you that as much as being scared for yourself hurt, being scared for someone else, that was real fear, pure and undiluted.

a fear captivating enough that you decided to just not deal with it for days, to ignore his texts even though it hurt like a dagger to the chest.

he'll lose interest eventually, you thought, he'll leave me alone eventually. then, finally, i won't have to be scared.

so why did that admission feel like being burned at the stake? why was some small part of you screaming at you to stop?

regardless, you held fast for three days.

and then your roommate put rocks in the microwave.

so you and your housemates stood in the front yard, the air deja-vu-inspiringly cold, the situation almost exactly the same as that first night.

"what's wrong with you?" you whispered-yelled at her. "how do you accidentally almost blow up our house?"

she waved you off, pouted for a moment. "you know how forgetful i get."

"yeah, i don't know if forgetful is the adequate descriptor here," one of the other girls said. "i have a few more specific words in mind."

"oh, come on," you roommate said to the group as the fire truck siren began to yet again overwhelm the smoke alarm. "god forbid a girl make a mistake around here."

you didn't hear the rest of the bickering, too busy sending up a silent prayer, begging some god, any god to listen. please, don't be him. please, if there is anything good in this world, it won't be him.

but, of course, as soon as you saw the massive figure climb down from the truck, you paled.

there might not be anything good, some voice told you then, but perhaps there is something right.

"long time no see, ladies," the same older fireman said, and that was the last thing you heard. the last thing that any of your senses consumed before all of them were so brutally and totally overwhelmed by arber.

because what was he, if not overwhelming? especially now, after having deprived yourself of him for days? how had you managed that?

seeing him here, in front of you, you had no idea.

because he was here, in front of you, this beautiful oaken man, and his hair was messy under his helmet, and his face was flushed from the cold, and his five-o'clock shadow made his jaw sharper, and you could feel his warmth from here.

because he was here, walking to you, right in front of you, dropping his giant jacket onto your shoulders silently, somehow, somehow he was still that kind, and then he was whispering to you.

"alive, are you?" he murmured, as if he almost couldn't believe it.

and you felt so selfish then, the guilt growing like poison ivy in your veins, up your throat, until you couldn't open your mouth for fear that only three-pronged leaves would come out.

you looked up at him, met his eyes, found them burning but unreadable.

a pause that felt infinite deflated as you struggled for words. "listen, arber-"

but he shook his head, almost looked sorry. "don't think i will, darling," he whispered, the name making your stomach sink. someone screamed in your head. "don't care much for hearing why 'm not worth a phone call."

you were shaking your head before he even finished. "no, no, arber, please, that's not it-" your voice was so close to cracking, splitting apart like brittle wood.

"what is it, then?" he said, and you noticed a quiver in his voice too, a warning, "because i've been trying to come up with something for days, and every option i've got hurts."

oh, good god, you had made him hurt? that alone was dizzying.

dizzying and so, so sobering, enough for you to mutter something aloud about arber helping you turn the smoke alarms off, pull him into your house, up into your room.

you barely noticed the alarms subsiding, him hitting all of the necessary buttons wordlessly on his way up the stairs.

and then he was in your room, and you two were alone, and he was sitting on the edge of your bed, taking his helmet and boots off, crossing his arms across his chest.

"by all means," he prompted. "tell me i'm crazy, darling, please, please tell me i've got something wrong."

you took a breath, set the marionette puppets strings down, finally. there was no leading your limbs anywhere, no running words over one million time in your head until you had the right ones.

it was finally time to set aside the fear, to unfurl your forever clenched fists.

your exhale was liberating as you approached him, not touching him, not yet, but close enough so that you could see his eyes, so that he could see the revelation in yours.

"you're not crazy," you said, the softness in your voice surprising you. "i've been trying so, so hard to make you think i don't care."

he scoffed, ran a hand through his messy hair, mercifully waited for you to finish.

"and i'm so, so sorry that i didn't call, and that i left during your game, and that i treated you like you were anything but special, arber."

he looked up at you then, and you saw a soft spark of hope in his eyes that spurred you on.

it was silent for a beat, and then he reached for your hand, held it in his grip, warm and consuming.

"i thought i scared you away," he said, vulnerable, completely honest.

you squeezed his hand, stepped closer, cupped his jaw in your other palm. "i was afraid," you admitted, and that alone felt like salvation. "but not of you." you swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb. "never of you."

with a single swift motion he tugged you onto his lap, both of his hand on your hips. there might not be anything good, that voice whispered like a gossipy teen, but perhaps there is something right. perhaps this is it.

"tell me," he said, not an order but a request.

you would have told him anything, then, as you reached up to loop one arm around his neck, use the other hand to twist one of his curls around your finger. "i hated seeing you hurt," you confessed, moving your fingers down to trace lightly over the greenish bruise next to his eye, the healing gash on his lip. "you give me so much more to lose, baby."

he was silent, still, so close you could feel his shaky exhales on your hand. you willed yourself to finish your thoughts, refused to leave him anything but completely certain, even if it was hard to focus with him under you, against you, all around you. even under the exceptional spotlight of his undivided attention.

"i was lying when i acted like i didn't want you," you said, your tone every bit as ultimate as you felt. "and i understand if you don't forgive me, and i won't hold it against you, but i promise i won't lie to you again, okay?"

you held his face like it was made of glass. his grip on your hips tightened, eyes bursting further into flame.

"let me convince you," you pleaded, willing every genuine thing from your bones into your words. "you have to believe me, baby, i care so, so much. a scary amount."

and something in you sighed, swooned, when you saw that amusement you had missed creep back into his gaze like a fog on the ocean.

his thumbs rubbed circles into the flesh of your hips as you relaxed further into him. "scary, hm?"

you nodded, peered up at him through your lashes.

"how about this, darling?" he offered, voice a tired rasp. "i'll believe you if you do one thing for me, yeah?"

"anything," you said, meaning it more completely than anything before.

the glint in his eye was dangerous as his grip turned firmer. he gave a hum of approval. "tell me something true."

after trying just so deliriously, terrifyingly hard for so long, nothing had ever come easier. with him, now, the truth was easy as breathing. "i want you," you breathed, running your nails lightly down his neck, relishing in his stifled groan. "so, so bad, arber. need you, please." your chest rose and fell in a hurried breath. had you ever been so free of fear? so buoyant with hope, with courage?

he hoisted you up on his lap, pulled you against his chest until it felt as if there was barely enough air to share between the two of you. "good girl," he said, a rough, low, rasp, and he caught your whimper in his teeth as your lips met his.

his kiss felt like molten iron, like forest fire smoke, like initials carved into a heart on an ancient oak tree. he felt like sun on your face and like drowning, drowning, drowning, this kind of torture one you would happily submit to over and over again.

you tangled your hands in his hair as he groaned into your mouth, pulling you up on his lap until you could feel him, so big and hard under you that you let out a gasp.

he smiled against your lips at your reaction, and you knew there would never be anything so glutted with bliss.

you kissed him harder, with the urgency of a thousand missed chances as he rocked you back and forth across his lap, slipping his hands under the waistband of your sleep shorts, his hands now scorching your bare skin.

"look so good in my jacket, darling," he rasped, "let me take it off, hm? want to see you."

you shrugged it off in obedience, placed both your hands on his chest and looked him in the eye, pleading.

one of his hands brushed your hair away from your face, gentle, soft, as you had always known him to be. he dragged his thumb down to your swollen lip, let it rest there for a moment.

"'f you want something, just ask," he grumbled, transfixed by your mouth. "know i'll give you anything you want 'f you ask for it, darling."

you pulled at his shirt, willed any oncoming flush or fear away. "please can i suck you off, arber?"

his smirk was devastating, delicious. "pretty baby wants me in her mouth?"

you nodded, a shy smile gracing your lips.

"course you can, darling, askin' so pretty for me, too."

you glowed at his praise, sunk down to your knees, admired him as he pulled away at his layers of clothes until finally you could reach for him, hold him in your hand, hot and heavy and just so big, so much so that you couldn't help your eyes widening, your mouth watering.

he groaned at your touch, tilted his head back and scrunched his eyes shut at the sensation of your soft palms on his cock.

you hid your grin, spit into your hands and pumped him up and down a few times before taking him in your mouth, making him moan, almost growl as he gathered all of your hair, wrapped it around his fist, the other hand bracing him against your bed.

"fuck, darling," he rasped, watching you bob your head up and down, "feels so good, so good for me, hm?"

you would have nodded, but instead you were overcome with a desire to take more of him, as much as you could. so you sunk your head down further, until your eyes watered, until air came in short spurts, until you gagged, felt him grow impossibly harder in your mouth.

he gripped your hair tighter, making you moan on his cock. "oh, darling, you want more, hm?"

you hummed, looked up at him through watery lashes, reddening eyes.

"want to take it all, do you?" he asked, "just want me to feel good, is that it?"

you moaned in affirmation, sunk your head down on him again, as far as you could go, relished in his groan, the way his thighs tensed, the way his forearms flexed.

already, your jaw was growing stiff, your shoulders strained, your knees warm from the carpet. too soon, though, he was pulling you up off of him, up from your knees back on top of him, wiping the spit from the sides of your mouth with his thumb, pressing a gentle kiss to your tired lips.

you pouted, wanting more still, and his shoulders shook in a low laugh. "not done, darling?"

you shook your head, ran your nails across his shoulders, down to his biceps, loved the way you could feel shivers erupt under your fingertips.

"i'll give it to you if you ask," he reminded you, simply, because of course it was that simple, that gentle.

you pressed your lips to his chest, his neck, his jaw, bit down softly on his collarbone. "please fuck me," you begged against his skin, "been wanting it forever, arber, need you to fuck me, need you to stretch me out."

in a moment he flipped you so that your hips were angled up to him, your chest against your bed, your cheek to your sheets.

"been waiting, have you, darling?"

you whined, nodded.

"no more waiting," he said, running his fingers through your folds, already so wet, "promise, no more waiting, pretty baby, okay?"

"please," you mustered, the end of the word becoming strangled as he began to push into you. it was altogether too much - every possible voice inside of you screaming too much and not enough in some cacophonous harmony.

his groan was raw, full of relief, release, confirmation. he held onto your hip tightly with one hand, the other wrapping around your stomach to keep you grounded, keep you here as you felt like you were floating away.

the pressure was dizzying, staggering, enough that your breathing was choked, your mind completely clouded, your already watery eyes just barely holding back tears.

you reached a hand back to grasp at his forearm as he pushed further, almost all the way inside of you. you whimpered as the stretch reached a peak, as he stilled, making the stray, warm tears finally fall down your cheeks, hang on your jaw before collecting on the sheets under you.

"so pretty when you cry, darling," he breathed, tight and short as you adjusted to him, and he to you.

"please, arber, just move, hm?" you pleaded. "need it, please."

his embrace around your middle tightened as he began to move in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, almost undetectable.

"so whiny, hm?" he bit out. "pretty baby knows what she wants?"

you nodded feverishly. "just give it to me, baby, please, just let me take it."

"don't know if you can," he said, and you pouted. "don't want to hurt you, hm?"

you clutched at his forearm, began to fuck back onto him, determined to get the motion and pace you needed so desperately.

"want it to hurt, arber, please, please give me all of it," you spoke with all of the greed of a sinner seeking salvation. "need all of it."

he abandoned any qualms about hurting you, immediately adopting a brutal pace, so hard and deep you swore your teeth began to chatter. you bit out a choked moan, grabbed at your sheets with your fist, scrunched your eyes shut at the pressure building inside of you.

his grunts grew rhythmic in time with his thrusts. "feel so good, know that, darling?" he rasped. "being so fuckin' perfect for me."

you hummed in response, gasped when he ran a hand across your clit, making you clench tighter around him.

he cursed at the sensation, continued to tease you as he thrusted deeper.

"like that," you breathed, growing dangerously close, "fuck, just like that baby, right there."

"gonna make me cum, darling," he warned, pressing his palm flat against your clit, the friction maddening. "feel too good."

"please cum for me, baby," you begged, your voice raw, "need it so bad, arber, need all of you." you moaned. "fuck, give me all of it."

he groaned as he came, triggering your own orgasm, an overwhelming wave of pleasure that consumed you utterly and entirely. you felt him collapse on top of you, barely registered him pulling you into his side as you both caught your breath in comfortable silence.

moments passed slowly, thick like aged honey, fragrant, sweet.

he lazily traced his thumb across your cheekbone, down your jaw, your collarbone. eventually, you looked up at him, found his eyes full of something homely.

you thought briefly about how you looked in that moment, what he was seeing - spit on your face, skin probably splotchy and red in places from wear, hair fussed and skin sparkling with sweat.

notably, though, the thought evoked no fear, not even for a moment. because you were beautiful like this, like always.

you exhaled a breath, soft, gentle, and buried some ancient curse with it.

the silence was blissful. eventually you heard loud footsteps on the wooden hallway steps, eye widening as you realized there were other people that lived in this house, in this room.

you pressed a hand to his chest to prepare him. "sweetness!" you called out. "do not come in here!"

"why?" came your roommate's voice through the door. "is there a fire?"

you exchanged a look with arber.

"kidding!" she added, her voice growing more distant. "i'll be in the kitchen. big guy, chief left without you!"

your shoulders shook in a pleased, peaceful laugh. he smiled at you, then, a warm, soft smile with teeth, and what was there left to do but smile right back? "what'm i supposed to do, darling?" he asked.

you got up, slowly, reluctantly, tied your robe from the bathroom around yourself, handed him his clothes. "c'mon," you said, "i'll show you the kitchen."

he leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to your lips before tugging on his clothes, grabbing his helmet.

i'll show you everything went unsaid by you, but not misunderstood by him.

he held your bedroom door open, holding your gaze with a goofy grin. "after you," he rasped.

you bowed past him and wordlessly told the picture frames in the hallway to behave, we have guests.

fin.

[adventuringblind]

Hi, I saw you were asking for requests and I thought I'd give you an idea for Max Verstapppen x reader fic. I don't request much so if it's too detailed I'm sorry, you can change anything you want, it's just a scenario I've had in my head for a while. I was thinking about enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine (also I'm a sucker for angst with a happy ending) ❤️❤️❤️

Ok, so imagine this: Reader is a new redbull media person/photographer and Max has an instant crush on her but acts like an a**hole cause he can't understand his emotions towards the reader. Other drivers tease him about it. I imagine someone ask why he doesn't like her and Daniel just straight up says "cause he loooves her" and Max gets all flustered. The reader is an absolute sunshine and tries to make him like her, even tho she is hurt by his behaviour. At some point (maybe right before a race or smth) he says something about her and she overhears and is heartbroken and suddenly stops talking to him.

I don't have an idea for an ending except that if you are up to I would love some smut 😂

Behind your walls

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: grumpy x sunshine, smut, angst if you squint.

Request: yes and it made me so happy. I hope I did your idea justice! My requests are open (specifically for Charles, Max Lando, and Oscar). Please don't hesitate to send in an idea!

Summary: Max knows he loves you but can't admit it to anyone, including himself. What happens when you over hear something he say? Will he be able to finally be vulnerable?

Warnings: Max is a jerk (blame is on Jos), pining, mentions of anxiety and a panic attack, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving)

Notes: second pov, I got a bit carried away, and I've never written smut before, so figured crossed it's not as cringe to you as it is to me. I think I changed like one or two things about the request but tried to follow it as much as I could.

If you have the chance, please check out my other work. likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I've started posting small snippets relating to my novel I'm currently editing, support for that is also always appreciated.

Masterlist

The following media is intended for those 18 and over. If you are underage, then please don't interact with this post.

Max has never been the best at dealing with his emotions. Sure he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, but all of them ended in confusion and heartbreak because of father wanting him to dedicate his entire being to racing.

So he did the only logical thing and walled himself off. Only having the occasional fling and never letting himself get to attached.

Then everything changed when he met you. Your sweet personality hired to drag him around all of his PR duties.

He'd made several of his PR managers quit. Ironically, not because he was an asshole to them, but because he had a talent for hiding from the press. It drove his managers insane. Redbull hoped that hiring someone warm and gentle was that you could coax him into fulfilling his responsibilities.

Everyone seemed to love you. Wherever you went, smiles followed. You'd even managed to convince Daniel into being productive and out of whatever his next shenanigan was. Not that you minded them, often laughing along with him if the situation arose. And to everyone's surprise, Max did spend more time with the reporters.

This, however, came at a price. For some reason that nobody could understand, Max Verstappen despised you. Or that's what you thought.

Max himself just thought he was doing the right thing for himself. No matter how many delicious coffies you brought him for early mornings. No matter how many of his jokes caused you to laugh. No matter the praises for wins and comforts for losses. Not even the look of admiration and respect you had for him and how he wanted nothing more than to sweep you away from this terrible world. He would not fall in love.

So he became a jerk to you. Giving you the cold shoulder. He always made sparky remarks at your expense. He even went as far as verbally telling you to 'piss off' even though deep down it hurt him too. Yet you still never wavered. Merely brushing it off and going back to whatever you were previously.

One day during a race weekend, Max found himself with Daniel during his downtime. The two of them eating lunch and chatting about life. The conversation was pleasant until Daniel brought up you.

"I don't understand why you don't like her, mate." Daniel chuckled a little, but there was genuine curiosity behind his eyes. Then, a realization hit the Australian. "I bet you love her! Like a crush from a schoolboy!" He announces for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

Was he wrong? No. But Max wasn't going to tell him that.

"You're wrong, mate. I personally find her incredibly annoying." He scoffed. He was also trying to convince himself of this. It wasn't working like he'd been intending.

"Why do you think? She's like the sweetest person I've ever met." Daniel gives a confused look to Max, who is struggling to find a reason why.

He finally gives the Aussie and awnswer. "She thinks anyone will do whatever she wants cause she's so nice. It's aggravating to see people flit around at her beck and call like she owns the place."

Daniel's face falls, a frown now gracing his lips. "Damn, that's too bad, I think you would've liked her if you'd giver her the chance."

It's at this moment that Max felt a looming presence behind him. The grimace if Daniel's face apparent.

"Sorry for interrupting, Christian is looking for you, Max." Came your voice. Not the one he was used to, you sounded on the verge of crying.

You turned on your heels and swiftly left to find somewhere secluded to compose yourself.

You hadn't intended on eaves dropping. You caught the tail end of their conversation as you were walking up. There wasn't much other noise around, and it's not like either male knows the definition of quiet.

Max, on the other hand, knew he messed up. He placed his hands over his face, shaking his head repeatedly. "I am stupid. I am stupid." He mumbled.

After the race that he managed to win, despite a rough start, he found himself immediately looking for you. Then he looked for you from the podium. And again, when it was time to be harassed from the media.

When he couldn't find you anywhere, he decided to ask Christian. He was hoping to get the chance to explain himself. Maybe even opening up a little because you deserved it after what he said.

Christian looked at him skeptically when he asked. "I thought you'd been told. She went back to the hotel. Security found her hyperventilating, so I had Daniel drive her back."

The rest of the day went by in slow motion for Max. Daniel mentioned a couple of times that you had anxiety. He'd mentioned that you are a people pleaser. You just wanted everyone to smile.

He hadn't realized how much damage his statement had done at the time. The guilt is now settling into the pit of his stomach.

He had someone else following him around. Definitely not as nice as you. He knew he'd fallen for you but couldn't admit it to himself. He needed to make this right. He didn't care if you hated him forever, but he wasn't going to let you think he hated you any longer.

Finally he was able to escape the cameras and locate Daniel. "I need your help."

You had spent your time in the hotel watching the race under your blankets and calming yourself down. You wouldn't lie that you genuinely liked Max. He started as an aquintance, but then you picked up on any grain he would give you. Any story he would tell to fill the silence. You wanted him to enjoy your presence as much as you enjoyed his. You knew you couldn't force it, but it wasn't going to stop you from at least being nice. Had you pushed it too far anyway?

Daniel knew about your crush. He said he saw that way you would listen to his long wonded explanations with patience and understanding and new only someone who loved him could manage that.

However, Daniel had also given you a false sense of hope. The Australian said that he saw how Max wanted to make you laugh. How he followed every PR obligation so you could keep your job. He wanted you around, too.

The tears started rolling again at the thought.

It's evening now. You hadn't eaten since this morning, but your stomach had no intention of letting you nourish yourself. Your anxiety over needing to make everyone happy getting the best of you. You hadn't had a panic attack like that in awhile. Even going as far as to dry heave because of the intensity.

You were exhausted, to say the least.

You wanted to sleep, but Daniel had texted, saying he didn't care if you wanted it or not, he is on route to bring you comfort food.

You did your best to make yourself look presentable. Though when you looked in the mirror, you definitely didn't look happy.

The inevitable knock came. You didn't hesitate to swing open the door, ready to be greeted by a cheeky smile.

What you got was a Dutch with a sheepish smile holding your favorite food and some flowers.

"Before you say anything, please let me explain." He rushed out. He needed to, though, since you were trying to close the door on him. Instead, you pause, considering his offer, and let him inside without a word.

He steps in the door. Finally taking in your appearance and the state of your room. Both are in dissaray. You sit on the edge of the bed and patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts.

You'd always been patient with him. Another reason he loved you.

"I'm sorry for what I said."

You didn't want to believe him, but there was a genuine look behind his blue eyes. You don't say anything. Opting to just listen to him instead.

"I know I fucked up." Max continues. His voice shaking more than you'd ever heard. "And I know you may never forgive me for what I've done to you. But I am truly in love with you." He stares at the floor. Anxiety making him cast his eyes to the floor.

You are shocked, rendered completely speechless at the confession. "Why?" Wat the only thing you could get out.

Max sets down what he is holding and finds the spot next to you on the bed. "I know I treated you poorly. I thought that in pushing you away, I would protect myself. But I fell for you anyway."

He inhales sharply. Staring at your glassy eyes. How were you so calm? He felt exposed and vulnerable. "You don't have to talk to me ever again. But I couldn't let you go without telling you I love you."

"I love you too." You whisper. His head snaps up in surprise. Is he hearing things? "I have for a while."

Nope, he definitely heard right. He watches your lips twist upward into a small smile and let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know it'll take time, but please stick around. Let me show you hard I've fallen."

"It dosen't excuse how you treated me, but I'll give you a chance."

(AN: You can end here if you're not in the mood for spicy things or want to leave it at cute and fluffy... or not. Your choice )

The proximity between you two is so close now. Your foreheads practically touching.

Giving into the intense pull towards you, Max gives in and places his lips on yours. You taste sweet, exactly how he'd imagined. He could already tell he was going to become addicted. "Can I start tonight?" He might be pushing boundaries, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least ask.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you again when you gently nodded your head, yes. Giving him permission to continue for now.

This kiss was much more heated. Both of you hungry to act on all the pent-up emotions you had for each other.

You had one or two partners before Max. You know how to please. So immediately you moved to straddle him. Your inate need to put others first taking over.

It shocked you when Max pulled you off. Suddenly not knowing what to do with yourself. "Tonight is about you." He whispered in your ear. Planting kisses on your jaw as he lays you on the bed. "I'm going to show you how I've fallen for you." Kiss to your nose. "How much I love you." Kiss you your forehead. "And how much I need you." Puncuated by a slow sensual Kiss to your lips.

His lips move against yours with passion and lust. You open your mouth to give him access to your mouth, and he instantly begins exploring.

His hands gently caress the insides of your thighs and run up along your sides. Pulling your shirt up little bits at a time.

Your hand find themselves underneath his shirt. Your fingers are trying to memorize the feeling of his skin.

Max pulls away for you, panting heavily. "Can I take off some of your clothes?" He asks. His voice laced with new found confidence.

You'd never been treated like this. Often take advantage of because you are a giver. You gave constent sure, but this is a whole new level. You nod your head yes again, though looking skeptical.

Max picking up on this stops everything he's doing. "Are you ok? Your face is telling me something different."

"Yes, sorry, this is just a little new to me." You explain.

The shock hits Max once again. "Are you a virgin?!" His mind reeling that he was possibly going to take your virginity and he wouldn't have known.

He's more confused when you start laughing. "No, no! It's just that nobody has treated me so well before!"

"Oh, well if that's the case." A smirk finds its way onto his face as he straps you your shirt, then his. Then he takes your pants, your bra, and finally pauses. Laying kisses to every party of your body.

"I wish I hadn't closed myself off for so long. You're so beautiful. I've wanted you to myself like this for so long."

You pratically moan at his words. "Are you going to finish undressing?"

"What do you not get about me taking care of you." He places a finger over your lips to shush you. You sigh and comply. Letting him take control of the rhythm.

Max is over the top of you. Inching his way down. Sucking and leaving little marks as he goes.

He makes a pit stop at your chest. Gently taking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. His tongue then finds the other one. Swirling it around, then sucking. Listening to you whimper beneath him.

"Do you like that lovely?" The cockiness in his voice not going unnoticed.

He trades sides with his hand and mouth. Trying to give equal attention to both your tits. His free hand now placed firmly on your hip to keep you still.

When he felt he'd given ample attention in one area, he made his way down lower. He stopped at your still clothed lower half. "Can I take these off you now?"

"If you don't I might cry."

Max has them off seconds layer. Now discarded with the rest of your clothes.

His gaze burns into you. His breathing erratic just looking at you. "Your are the most gorgeous thing on the planet."

You swallow hard as he finds a comfortable position. His head now in-between you thighs.

His finger gently rubs where you need him, and he places love bites to the insides of your thighs. "Glad to know I'm doing good so far." He smiles. His fingers are now coated in your slick substance.

You whimper again. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

He licks the finger that was previously touching you. Savoring every bit of the tast he can. "Exactly like how I dreamed."

It was your turn to chuckle now. "You dreamed of me?"

"Almost every night. I got off in the morning to the memory."

You want to dwell on his dirty confession, but Max's tongue doesn't let you.

It doesn't take him long to have you writhing. His tounge unrelenting.

His fingers find their way inside of you. The act alone almost sends you off the edge. Instincts take over as you find yourself closer to utter bliss. Your arms struggle to push max away. His arms hooked under your thighs to hold you close keep you from doing so.

Your back arches as you release. Max is slowly coming to a stop as your ride out your high.

Both of you are breathing heavily. Max's fingers are still caressing your hips as you both catch your breath.

Realization hits you. "Don't you need something too?" You ask, voice laced with anxiety over not pleasing him also.

Max only smirks, laying his head against your leg. "I fine, don't you worry. Tonight, we cuddle, and tomorrow I take you for round two."

And that's exactly what you did. Max helped clean you up and put on your pajamas. Then you two curled up in bed together. Him telling you everything he had been wanting to since he laid eyes on you.

You know this road worh Max certainly wouldn't be easy. But you're patient, and you'll wait for him. As long as he needs to let himself fully tear down his walls.

[dhampling]

swell 18+ fem!reader x astarion, 1.9k

You gently nudge him to the bed and ask if he’s willing to indulge you, and he confirms with those smouldering eyes that he’s ‘been thinking about it all day’. - feral pregnant sex with the elf. that's it. based on this NSFW piece by the ridiculously talented @mutualcombat (to whom i am also legally married, fun fact) cw: 18+, breeding, pregnant sex, squirting, creampie, sub astarion, riding, so little plot it's not even funny, p in v

Hot to bursting; his ‘unhinged woman’ now pacing the cool terracotta of your kitchen, barefoot.

His plush princess. Wholly doted on. The swell of heaving breasts on red-hot belly and the residual stony heat of a summer’s day in the Gate settled thick in your home. Not a cold bath, as he’d never allow such a shock to the system this late on; but when you feel the balls of your feet lose their searing tightness while treading the cold stone it gives you an idea.

When you take Astarion’s wrist and lead him up the staircase in a determined lust-march, he mentions something about it being his ‘lucky day’ and you want to lift your skirts there and then despite the blossom of blush on your cheeks. Take him on the wrought iron and watch the flowery imprints bloom on his bare ass.

Steps later. You gently nudge him to the bed and ask if he’s willing to indulge you, and he confirms with those smouldering eyes that he’s ‘been thinking about it all day’. A deliberate nod and a gulp - heavy and laced with ruinous grit. 

You sink to your knees and run the flat of your tongue over his clothed cock, delighted to find the half-hard swell beneath his breeches; the spot where the evidence of his day-long desire has seeped through into a dry salty puddle prior, now pulled taut between your teeth and wetted once more with a mouthful of warm spit.

Ravenous. Deft fingers unlace his fixings and you descend like a waiting bird to find him hard. Harder by the moment. Thick pearly ooze at the velvet head and seething through closed teeth, your tongue determined to give him reason.

One long lick along his perfect slit and you’re hooked.

Cool, like some highsummer treat. Your head rolls in heavy circles as a flattened tongue catches each eager twinge of his prespill; each twitch of his cock fruitful in giving more of his salt over to your keening hunger. Fleshy. He groans. 

When you catch his eye you see tears brimming carnelian at the stimulation, your teeth covered by lust-bitten lips as you take his tip into the scorching wet of your mouth, kneeling at his knee, haunches bearing the weight of your swollen torso. Fattened belly. His spill some enchanted seed in giving you the dream; the ability to bear life unto him, and you’ve never craved the taste of it more. Maybe it’s the elven genetics; maybe the vampirism; but the genuine wanton throb each mouthful gives you at your core feels akin to the effect of succubus spittle.

Wet. Everything is stupidly wet. 

Cheeks covered in a clear glaze of spit and his precum, the swelling flesh between your legs absolutely sodden in easy desire. You lack underwear. He must know this, smell your amplified arousal. A few gentle bobs of your head and he’s completely enraptured. Lost in the salacious glint of your eyes as you look up to him; resting back on his palms in sheer delight.

He tastes perfect. Familiar. Your favourite thing to drink. The cool length of his cock as he angles baby thrusts into the waiting wet you offer so freely, so covetous of him.

“Little kit, are you thirsty?”

You lift your head and look at him through heavy lashes, unhollowing your cheeks and feeling the now-salty spit gather in thick ropes from roof to tongue.

“I’m struggling with poetics, so please; let me show you what I need.”

You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and rise to your feet, gesturing for him to disrobe as you unlace your loose-fitting clothes. 

He sits there bare for a few moments, glimmering with desire as he watches you shed your clothes and kick them aside. A glistening thin string shows the full spool of your arousal and you hear him choke as you move him to lie flat on the floor, atop some thin rug over the board.

“I intend to have you completely and utterly drunk on me.”

He watches you above him, the wobble of milky full tits; the round bulge of your loaded belly, skin tight, and the way both seem to bounce in the low light as you descend back to your haunches - this time, hovering over the crux of his erection in a gentle bob.

“Listen to me - lie still, and let me at you. Please.”

You take a moment to watch for his reaction, for any hint at discomfort with your heavy-handed seduction.

Nothing but want. Eyes aflame and rapid between your own and the space where you’ll meet. Your cunt aches for him, spasming in heat and desperate to hump the cool evidence of his desire. 

“Take me.” Given in a sob, a sybaritic groan. You allow him a few precious moments to run his icy tip up and down your sodden folds before rocking it into position to just slightly breach your hole. One slight dip of your hips downward, two dips, the consequential wiggle of your full tender chest; and then you sink onto him in sheer elation. 

Heaven. Pure heaven. A full cunt of his doing has become your favourite treat whilst so heavily knocked up, be it with cock or his cum; full to bursting, messy and delirious at his command, and he’s oh-so-happy to indulge when the need seizes you.

You give a gentle rock, allowing him to settle with the sizzle of his ice in your heat before you shift a little to reposition him. Your hands find his legs and curl them up to your hips for leverage, your feet and knees holding you in a bent squat over him; and resting ever-so-slightly on the pillow of his tilted ass you grab hold and you ride. 

The pressure. Molten lava brewing in the core of a towering infernal volcano. The ease with which his cool cock is coated so thoroughly in your slick as you slam onto him in fevered bliss, slipping into you as if something trivial. You remember a time where he was broaching on too thick; and now you take no greater pleasure than adjusting so easily to him.

Once you find a rhythm you’re unstoppable. 

There’s a moment where he gives you the kind of face he only gives you when he’s on the verge of frustrated tears, staccato whining, needy huffs as you plough yourself on his prick and feel each throb of ice inside your cunt like he needs you to. Begs you to. Asks if he feels good enough for you, his paramour; with wanton abandon and another pulse of prespill directly into your ravenous hole.

Babbling, too. Laboured breaths. 

He’s your good boy; the very best for you, always at your side in these late months of your swell for you to use - and he’s doing so well like this, at your mercy, legs wide as you tell him he’s your best little whore and his cock furiously kicks in search of relief in between your legs. 

In the heady cocktail of sweat and sex he even whimpers thanks. Begs forgiveness. Grateful. He bred you like you were naught but a bitch in heat and now you ride him whilst weighty and hot with the result of his loins. Pleads to you for clemency in the face of the irrefutable evidence of your leaky tits and swollen belly. He put a baby in you and now lies brittle as you claim even more of his spend and you’ve never in your life seen him look so thoroughly ruined. 

Flesh meets flesh. His brows knit together and you’re furious. Desperate to milk every drop from him. No cramp could give him reason to take your hands from their support on his legs; no ache nor pain could convince him that this wouldn’t be the perfect way to die.

By the time his own hip-cants grow sloppy you’re still hungry. You take his wrist as he lies back from his elbows to rest his head on the rug, and place his hand where his cock enters you so he can feel it. The gush each time you bounce upward, fresh wetness coating his length in a sticky gloss. The stretch of your hole each time you take him from tip to hilt. He practically foams at the mouth as his head looks up once more to watch the space below your swollen belly. 

And you ride. You soak him in your pleasure. Glubs and moans and some feral growling - a threat to bite as he shifts to move his hand back and use his elbow for support once more. Every burning inch of you needs every part of him, and even then; would you be satisfied?

When his hand reaches a little upward to jerk at the engorged nub of your clit you feel your own rapture incoming in some lecherous barrel toward your core. More praise. He’s doing so well for you, your sweet boy. 

Then - in the softest voice, you hear it. A plea.

“Can I?”

If you could kiss him in encouragement, you would - however you’re both aware of the sizable barrier in your way and it does nothing but make him harder. More desperate. He did that to you, he says in bewilderment each and every time. You want to ride him through the tsunami of his high but there’s a tiny voice in your head that tells you once he empties his balls he’ll be too wet to continue riding. Too soft, if only for a short while. You’ll go insane if you can’t cum around him. 

“Not ‘till I do.”

It lights a fire in him. His thrusts become sharper and deeper once more as you press down on his knees to support your angry weighted frame. He wants to give it to you. To feel you wetten his cock with your climax. 

“Use me, then. Please.” 

And with that, you do.

You impale yourself something heavy on him at that toe-curling angle where he’s hitting the dense spot inside you with the plush of his cock head and within moments you’re seeing stars. He’s ecstatic as he feels the first flutters of your orgasm and yet he doesn’t relent, tears at the corners of his eyes and the edges of his mouth practically foaming. Begs in hoarse-frenzied whispers to feel your relief. The crescendo of your pleasure.

Pressure builds and you know you’re there. Your channel fills and you’re stuttering to a halt, pinning him down with your weighty hips. 

You lift, and feel the gush. Your squirting cum all over his cock, his abdomen; the flat-woven rug. Astarion pulls you back onto him with urgency as you reel in delirious laughter so he can feel the tight contractions of your cunt. Your head tilts back and you’re bordering on tears yourself.

Nothing has ever felt this good. No sex, no sun overhead nor dip in cool water. You’re shaking above him while he writhes to hump you in search of his own release; and he very quickly finds it in the sopping wet of your walls.

He loves you. He loves you more than anything. He shoots his desire into you as he has so many times before, in desperate thrusts and waiting holes; but this is you. His love. His fertile angel. Sown fresh by him once now as you will be so many times over. 

You have forever, and nothing less will do.

[theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass]

Love of my life | D.R.

Daniel Ricciardo x younger!reader

Summary: What happens when you confess your profound love to the person whose heart you broke? How fragile is the hope of reconciliation?

Warnings: comforting angst??? (idk even im in my feels)

Word count: ~1.2K

^^

“Hiding from me?” the velvety voice behind you felt more familiar than you’d like it to.

“Should I?” you turned your eyes away from the dark ocean before you and met his eyes. Gosh he looked handsome and you could feel your body react to him, still the same as it was, gentle shock waves weaving through your fingertips.

“God I hope not…” he sat down beside you on the straw beach furniture. You were trying to keep your gaze on the horizon of the ocean where water seemed to bleed into the dark night sky and become one.

You could hear him take a deep breath, it was shaky and an uncomfortable feeling settled in your gut as if foreseeing that his following words would remind you of something you had been trying to keep buried for the last 5 months.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight…” he spoke out softly, his eyes on your silhouette, encaged by the silver glory of the full moon you looked untouchable. And he knew that you were untouchable to him, no matter how much his palms seemed to have thoughts of their own and wished to just reach out to you, and relish in the touch of your silky skin just like he’d done months ago.

“Why not? You know I didn’t attend all those parties just because of you,” you held your stare stoic, letting yourself get lost in the starry night sky, counting the stars only so you’d hold yourself back from latching on the man sitting beside you.

Nothing could have you forget the day you’d met him. Ironically it was a party that you had only attended because you were dying to catch a glimpse of the charming man that he was. Luckily, at least that’s what you thought at that very moment, you had caught his eye and soon enough you were carrying his heart in your hands and he was carrying yours. Although now after everything, you believe you might have been wrong about the later…

“Y/n… I just want to say-”

“Please don’t say it, don’t apologize again,” you turned to him almost instantly which left him speechless, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight reminiscent of the various jewels he used to clasp around your neck and the supple kisses he’d leave there throughout the day, but the jewels that adorned your eyes now weren’t a consequence of a blissful time together, “I will not hear it again… I do not need to be reminded of that… time”, you lowered your head trying to catch your breath and the lonely tears from falling.

“Baby,” he kept his hands secured in tight fists, too easy to lose control now that he could see tears escaping out of your eyes and cascading down your cheeks. He still remembers the salty streaks from the last time he’d been this close to you. How could he ever forget when the pain he’s been carrying in his chest for so long never denied itself. You had given his heart back to him, but you sure took a piece of it for yourself before that, though how could he blame you when he had done the same… to have the smallest part of you and suffer rather than have no memory of you was and would always be Daniel’s first and only choice.

“Daniel,” your eyes traveled back to his warm eyes, the same one’s that had made you all the promises of a perfect tomorrow. One that never came. One that you still let yourself dream about whenever the air smelled like the cologne you’d gifted him, the one he was still wearing now…

Looking at him you wished you could hate him, you wished to be physically repulsed by the man in front of you, maybe that would help you walk away now and continue living as you once had. Striving for the brightest most delightful future, without looking back at the old dark days, but he has possessed your mind, you can no longer make a step without seeing him there, what if’s about the past clouding your future. How could he sit there and give you those eyes… those gorgeous sad eyes. You bit back your lip. You could no longer kiss his sad eyes and see them light back up after.

“Y/n… you were the love of my life,” he accepts the torture that is to come his way, he knows he deserves it for the crime he just committed. Tears were fully running down your cheeks now, large droplets falling into the sand beneath your feet and disappearing right away, like they were never there…

“Why are you doing this to me, Daniel?” you instinctively covered your face with your palms as sobs made your shoulders tremble, hiding the tears from him even if he’s seen them already. You hated nothing more than for him to see you cry.

“I just… I felt that you had to know, because I never told you how much I actually loved you. I treated you so wrong for a very long time and I am to blame for that… I was the shitty older guy who took advantage of someone who didn’t know what she was doing…”

“That was the problem, Daniel. You always viewed me as a child…I am young, but I am not a kid and I can make decisions for myself. You might regret me, but I know the choices I made and I have no remorse over them,” your heart ached. How unfortunate is it to meet the love of your life and understand that they never truly saw you as their equal.

“The only thing I regret is not doing more to get to know you and… leaving you behind… I was in the wrong, so please do not cry darling…” his voice sounded so different, he was breaking from the inside out seeing you this way. He leaned closer to you, his warm palms encompassing your wrists to reveal your face to him.

Two pairs of teary eyes stared into one another.

The both of you took in a shaky breath in, which finally broke the suffocating tension and helped your lips ease into a simple smile. Daniel wiped at your cheeks, his touch ghostly light, removing the salty puddles, before gracing your forehead with an effortless kiss.

“I’m sorry too, Daniel,” you leaned back just so you could once again let yourself go and drown in his warm eyes, completely forgetting your morals and bringing back the buried feelings you couldn’t not tell him, “You were also the love of my life…”

Now it was Daniel’s turn to let the tears flow. And he did. He wished he had you, all of you, he wished to cry on your shoulder whenever a race went wrong, he wished to have your attentive hands run through his curls and soothe him when the air seemed to get too heavy. Most importantly he wished he had said it sooner, the short ‘L’ word, because if he had, you’d be home, tangled in bed together with big tranquil smiles on your faces.

Instead you two were crying on a beach together, reminiscing on what would have been if it could have been. But it was enough for Daniel, even if he was crying, at the very least he was crying with you… the love of his life…

^^

A.N. loving older men is not a hobby, it's a lifestyle<3

[juuuulez]

showing them your party dress, and they judge you (thinking it’s slutty or they get jealous) and won’t come to the deannas party with you. you get drunk and they help u 😝😝😝 (comfort angst)

info: Rick Grimes x Reader, NSFW, sorta drunk sex, Spencer is a creep, unsafe sex/pulling out, p in v.

summary: After pissing you off over a comment about your outfit, Rick tries to prove your worth another way.

omg idk when this escalated into smut but it did, but thanks for the request!!! thought i’d show rick some love because he’s soooo dilf and there isn’t enough rick appreciation on this page

You wrap your hair around the curling iron, clamping down the hot metal and holding it in place. Tonight, Deanna is having a party for the new residents, and you’d been practically buzzing with excitement all day. Not only was Alexandria a miracle to come across, but they treated life with some semblance of normality.

“That the dress you’re wearin’?” A voice behind you asks, your gaze fluttering up to watch Rick through the mirror. He’s standing behind you, eyes scanning the dress you’d put on.

It was black, form-fitting and short. Paired with some kitten heels, you looked good enough to eat. Except, you’d thought it would illicit a bit more… excitement from your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” You agree, “Rosita found it for me. Said I’d look good in it.”

As if to prove your point, you turn around, giving a little spin in an almost childish manner. Rick stands there, stone faced, not betraying a single emotion.

“You do,” He finally lets up, “But is this the impression we wanna give?”

A response doesn’t come right away, silence filling the space between you as the words stew in your mind. They sound strangely negative, causing your brows to furrow into a little frown.

“C’mon, baby. You know what I mean.” Rick tries again, having sensed that he’s said something wrong.

But you’ve already turned away, continuing to primp your hair in the mirror. “Are you coming tonight?” You ask, completely avoiding his previous misstep for the sake of not becoming upset before the party.

“No, not tonight,” Rick sighs, “Got some shit to sort out.”

This one doesn’t get a reply either, and Rick knows that you aren’t pleased. So far, your relationship has been anything but normal. Back at the prison, he’d kept you at an arms length, finding your alluring nature and sweet smile threatening to his morals. Yet, over time, he’d let you in, and you’d wormed your way into his life.

“You could stay home, too. Wait for me. We’ll watch a movie when I get home.” He ends up suggesting, trying to alleviate your souring mood.

It’s fruitless, for you’re still persisting. “No. I want to party, like every other person in this town.”

“In that dress?” He questions once more.

You turn again, shooting the older man a glare. “Yes. Now leave, I’m getting ready, and you’re distracting me.” You essentially demand, and as not to get bitten, Rick obeys.

Part of you is pissed that he folded so easily, even though it was your bad temper. Regardless, you swore to have fun tonight, Rick or no Rick.

So, you finished doing your hair, even going so far as to put a little makeup on. It felt good, all of it, mainly because it just felt normal. You ventured from your house, trailing down the street to where the commotion was, eager to have a fun night out and remove Rick’s comment from your mind.

Though you claimed to be over it, your actions were saying otherwise.

Alcohol wasn’t commonplace during the apocalypse, at least not for your group. It wasn’t a necessity, and would only worsen the burden of surviving, having to recover from hangovers or be momentarily inebriated.

But tonight? You’d drink as much as you wanted to. Wine had never really been your favourite, but now, it was like liquid gold.

Maybe you were still annoyed at Rick, and you certainly were annoyed at Spencer, who kept talking to you at every possible opportunity. He didn’t like Rick, so in favour, you didn’t like him.

Everything turned into a blur at one point, and you would vaguely remember sitting down on the couch, nursing a cup of water in hand. Who gave you water? It didn’t really matter, for once more, Spencer had sat next to you.

He offered you another glass of wine, and stupidly, you took it.

“Ever get bored of playing with your old man?” He asked, lips upturned into a wicked grin, like the joke was supposed to be amusing. It wasn’t.

There’s a sickly feeling in your stomach, though it doesn’t stem from the alcohol, but guilt. “I need some air.” You end up mumbling, uncoordinatedly stumbling from the couch.

Spencer follows a few steps behind you, his hand on your arm with the feinted intention of helping.

“Without you!” You clarify in a drunken yell, messily yanking both heels from your feet, leaving them in the hallway while you make a break for the door.

Fortunately, Spencer gets the message.

Not that it mattered, for there was another face you didn’t want to see, waiting right outside.

Rick looked so good in the little police uniform they’d given him, with his clean shaven face and trimmed hair. It was a completely different man from the one you’d known, but delicious nonetheless.

“I don’t need your help, asshole.” You snap whilst faltering down the steps, barefoot on the pavement. Right now, he didn’t deserve the satisfaction of helping you, or knowing how good he looked.

“Yes you do, c’mon.” Rick persists, and when he moves to take your arm, you don’t protest. Maybe you are a little far gone. He gently leads you along, one hand wrapped around your shoulder, the other carefully tugging the bottom of your dress down a little more.

It’s a short walk back home, to the little picket-fenced house you’ve been living in. The instance you’re inside, you collapse on the couch, melting into the fabric and willing to pass out right then and there.

Rick kneels down on the ground, leaning in and removing your jewellery. Necklace, earrings, bracelet. Once they’re all set aside, he sits on the couch, the movement causing you to rise with a little frown.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks, large hands scooping under your thighs and manoeuvring your body into his lap.

When you only look down, he grips at your chin, forcing the eye contact. The frown deepens, though now out of defiance, still drunk and a little pissed off.

“We’ve spent so long bein’ dirty ‘n muddy ‘n gross..” You begin in a mumble, the words coming out as one long sigh. “I just wanted to feel sexy.”

“You are so sexy,” Rick urges, hand caressing your side. “Always.”

“Then you should’ve come to the party with me.” You retort, that sad look still on your face, and it takes everything in Rick not to kiss it off.

“I know, I know. I should’ve been there,” He agrees, “And I should’ve told you how damn good this dress looks on you.”

Your nose scrunches up in confusion, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Rick finally releases his grip on your chin, skating both hands down the smooth curve of your sides, all nicely contained in that skimpy dress. It’s like a perfect package, one he wants to unwrap.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, baby. I love it,” He reveals, eyes locked onto yours, “But I wanna be the only one who can love it.”

A grin finally grows on your lips, still all pink and glossy from the makeup. Even in your drunken state, there’s something alluring about the way you lean closer, breath fanning over Rick’s lips.

“Then prove it.” You whisper.

Like a moth to a flame, Rick bites. He closes the gap, savouring your sloppy kisses as you devour his lips, hands fumbling to cup either side of his smooth face. Somehow, kissing him felt even better drunk, like everything else just melted away.

Disconnecting, Rick trailed purposeful kisses down your neck, sucking brief marks into your skin, staking his claim. He peeled the straps of the dress down, pushing the fabric down under the swell of your breasts, until they were completely bare to him.

You gasped as his lips trapped a nipple, fondling at the supple flesh whilst worshipping you with his mouth. But you were already strung tight, not having the patience to deal with a night of teasing.

Fingers hooked into his belt, painted nails scratching at the denim as you failed to muster enough coordination to unzip him. “Please.. please, Rick.” You whined.

“I know, baby. Don’t have’ta beg tonight.” He assures you in that rough, yet soothing tone, taking over and pulling his cock free of its restraints.

Rick pushes the dress up over your hips, the soft fabric now simply a band around your waist. You’re eager to take him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders whilst you hover over his thighs, allowing Rick to line you up and make the slide easier.

The drunken haze has faded some, replaced by a blanket of arousal as you slowly ride him, fingers gripping at his shirt. You’re saying something, begging probably, but it doesn’t make any sense. Not that it matters.

Though you’re set on riding him, Rick knows you’re probably sore from those heels all night, so he grips tight at your hips to flip you over, drilling you down into the plush couch.

“Fuck..��� You gasp, head lolling to the side as Rick bites into the flesh of your neck, body completely surrounding you as his thrusts become powerful and short, angled up right where you need it.

“I know, baby. You can take it.” He grunts, using all his strength to draw you closer to the edge.

By now, he knows your tells. The tightening of your cunt as it squeezes him, the way your legs wrap around his slim waist. Whatever words make it from your mouth, though unintelligible, take on a whiny pitch.

Rick snakes his hand between you, pressing firm, tight circles around your clit that make you gasp and squirm under him. “Quietly, baby. You can do it. Let go for me.”

And that you do, hips bucking upwards as your peak finally hits, muffling your cries into his shoulder. The pulsating around his dick causes Rick to finally falter, managing a few more staggered, sharp thrusts before roughly pulling out and spilling onto your stomach. Spurts of white cum coat the bunched up dress, some even reaching the underside of your tits.

“Fuck,” Rick pants, catching his breath. “Looks like you can’t wear this dress anyway.”

[toji-girl]

wrapped around | villain! t. amajiki

synopsis: All you wanted to do was move on from Tamaki who took a turn from hero to villain, but why can’t you stop thinking about his indigo eyes even though he’s on the other side now?

wc: 4.6k

tags: dark content (read cw) + 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + he's ooc + repost from my blog + my writing style was different years ago + tentacle play+ Quirk play + bunny! reader + gagging + wound care + makeup sex + biting + rough sex + pet names + vaginal stretching + fluff in all this porn + multiple tentacles in one hole + dubcon + yandere! Tamaki + overuse of Bunny pet name + spitting + oral f! and m!+ fingering+ hentai references + porn + fem! masturbation + aphrodisiac (?) + cum play + possessive! Tamaki + nipple play + mentions of ovulating+ unprotected sex + breeding + mating press + finger sucking + dumbification + womb flooding + creampie+ tummy bulge from cum inflation.

AN: so I wrote this maybe close to four years ago, not sure how I came up with the idea to write something like this honestly, he is very OOC though! but I wanted something new with Amajiki, also please forgive my old formatting lmaoo.

Rain pattered on the roof trickling down the windows coupled with the bolt of lightning flashing in your bedroom drowning out the soft noise of the TV but it wouldn’t matter anyway with your phone propped up in your hand, moans streaming from the device.

Instantly your stomach curled thinking of the thought of the indigo-colored-haired man with eyes to match. 

The orgasm that you’ve been chasing for the last forty-five minutes finally ended with you kicking the blankets off, throwing the toy and phone down on your bed as you sat up, looking around for your shorts, flinging pillows, and everything to the floor.

It’s been weeks since you’ve thought of him and now you were wondering why you had to think about him in a time like this. You scratched the base of your soft floppy ears as you looked around and sighed seeing the pillow that Tamaki had you hump for hours overstimulating you until you were sobbing and clinging to him to stop.

Part of you missed him but not the way he acted in a relationship. It was a mystery how you stayed with him for so long.

Another sigh left your lips while swinging your legs over the bed placing them on the bare floorboard, another crack of thunder shook the house flickering the lights as you adjusted the oversized sleeping shirt you wore pulling it over your shoulder, another sound startled you.

Someone knocking hard and rapid on your door, your ears perked up when you heard him.

Calling your name like a mournful song, Tamaki’s voice wavered as he leaned against the door knocking again, “Please, bunny, let me in.”

Your heart restricted in your chest hearing your nickname. It was something that he only ever called you even though you hated your stupid Quirk. Everyone got cool ones or even none at all but nothing at all has to be better than being a bunny.

His voice came in again begging, “I-I’m hurt.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you walked to the front door barely opening it. Wind and rain hit you like needles. Tamaki sat leaning against the doorframe now holding his side. Indigo eyes met yours.

“Tamaki?”

You crouched down and moved a piece of wet hair from his face to scared to get closer to him, “Bunny.” Tamaki wrapped his fingers around your wrist pulling you closer, “I need help.”

You aren’t stupid. As soon as he asked for help you knew what happened, it was either some bar fight or he got into a scrap with a Hero which you happen to be ironically enough.

Your brows pulled together as you moved his hand from his ribs seeing a medium size cut, blood pumping from the torn flesh only darkening the fabric of Tamaki’s shirt. “What do you need help with?”

“What do you think?” He hissed covering the wound again.

“If you want to be like that Tamaki you can go fuck off. Why did you come here out of all the places? Let me guess you and Dabi got drunk and tried to fight someone.”

Tamaki winced and smirked as another clap of thunder startled you, “Still scared of storms, huh? Let me in and I’ll protect you.”

You raised an eyebrow and played with your ears catching his attention. He knows you too well, his eyes burned the side of your head. You felt way too vulnerable in front of him like this, your shirt stretched over your knees but Tamaki already got a glance at your bare cunt.

“Hello? Bunny. Let me in.”

You turned back to glare at him feeling your heart sink in your stomach seeing the pain in his eyes. His hair wet and matted covered most of his face along with his hood but you saw the flash, “Oh, damn you, Tamaki. Tell me what happened then I’ll let you in but I swear if you try anything I’ll hurt you.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed followed by a wet cough, sighing you kicked the door open and grabbed Tamaki by his elbow pulling him to his feet, “Shit,” he cursed, swaying on his feet. With your arm wrapped around his waist, you guided him to the bathroom with his hand gripping your shirt leaving bloody handprints.

“Sorry.” He looked down at your shirt pulling the sticky fabric from your torso, “Don’t worry about it.” You said not looking up to meet his heated gaze. It’s only been four months since he’s last seen your face and that was when you two were screaming at each other about how the relationship wasn’t going to work.

How could it?

A villain and a hero?

Tamaki took his shirt off, tossing it on the floor, and leaned back against the sink holding his arm up, “What the hell happened? The skin is all jagged.” You muttered looking at the wound while washing your hands.

“Dabi was sleeping with this dude’s girlfriend and they got into it. Of course, I’m going to help my friend out.”

You looked at him pulling gloves on before grabbing your first aid kit, “Have you been sleeping with anyone’s girlfriend?” You didn’t mean for your question to come across so cold but you barely trusted him in the relationship and knowing he’s been running around for months single you didn’t have any reason to believe him.

Tamaki sighed and shut his eyes hissing when you applied a bandage to the wound, “Careful bunny,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes opening to slits, “can I still call you bunny?”

You rolled your eyes despite feeling the ache between your legs or the way you were sure that at any given moment your heart was going to explode when you met his gaze, the feelings he still has glittered behind the mischievous grin that spread across his lips.

“What?”

“I’m waiting on my answer.”

You sighed,and focused on the gauze, “I do have a name that I know you know.” Came your answer, short and simple that’s all that was needed because you could feel the sexual tension building faster and faster brick by brick sitting on your chest suffocating you.

“Yeah, that’s true but I like bunny,” he replied gently flicking your left ear making you glare at him, Tamaki chuckled and winced when you pressed in. “Do try to remember that I’m treating your wound, now you answer my question.”

“What?”

“What caused this? And was this really all over Dabi and some hookup?”

You stepped closer pressing your stomach against his hips looking at the jagged flesh, your tail twitched when you felt Tamaki caress your stomach, “It was, I never lied to you no matter what you think. I might be a villain babe but I would never hurt you, I would burn the world down for you. I would do anything you want me to. You’re still my queen.”

Tentacles wrapped around your throat stilling your movements.

Tamaki leaned in ghosting his lips against yours releasing your throat, “I was serious when I said I wanted to run away and get you knocked up.”

You couldn’t help the ugly laugh that bubbled from your open mouth irritating Tamaki who leaned back and watched as you looked back at him, a serious look taking over your face.

“Runaway and get me knocked up? I’m sorry but I told you that I don’t want to live a villainous lifestyle let alone with a baby? Do you even know how to take care of a baby?”

“I took care of you, didn’t I?”

You leaned down and grabbed the alcohol squirting it on the gash, “Fucking hell you-”

“I suggest you watch how you talk to me Tamaki, you came here and interrupted my plans to help your ass now don’t be so rude.”

He kept quiet and still watched as you sewed his wound shut. You revealed the wincing in pain and hissing Tamaki let out when you tugged just a little too hard, “You’re being rough.”

“And I thought you liked that?” You asked placing the bandage over your work and glanced back up at him taking your gloves off. “Now I have to take a shower, you can let yourself out.”

Another tentacle wound itself around your wrist protruding from Tamaki’s hand, “Can I join?”

It’s not a good idea, the moment he asked you cocked your head to the side tugging your shirt down, “No, and you know why.”

He frowned and leaned back against the sink, “Can I at least take a shower after you at least?”

His voice didn’t come across confident anymore instead it wavered watching you play with the hem of your shirt again, fingers twisting in the fabric. Your ears twitched and flopped over as you avoided Tamaki’s gaze. If you looked at him it would be all over.

“You can’t take one with your bandage, let me clean you up.”

It wasn’t like he hasn’t seen you naked before but when you slid your shirt off tossing it in the hamper Tamaki cleared his throat feeling his cock throb, “Keep staring and I’ll poke your eyes out.” You growled making him laugh.

“You’re so cute when you get angry.” It was out of habit when he reached out fingers coming in contact with your ears scratching the base softly, he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and body go lax.

It was always a different sensation when someone else rubbed your ears or stroked your tail with the occasional squeeze that left you dripping.

You hated yourself when a small whimper left your lips bringing you back to reality as you grabbed the shirt hanging from the back of the door pulling it on, “Don’t touch me again. I’m serious.”

“Got it,” he said raising his hands up slowly before taking his shirt and pants off balling them up, “can I wash my clothes then?”

“You’re being awfully needy, when your clothes are dry I want you out. You’re lucky I’m letting you stay this long.”

Tamaki nodded his head and pushed his hair and hood out of his face, a new scar coming into view. Jagged pink flesh beginning to heal and spreads from the end of his eyebrow to his jaw, somehow adding to the beauty that is the man who brings so much chaos to your life.

“What happened?” You asked, walking out of the bathroom with Tamaki behind you.

“My scar? Dabi and I got into a fight with a couple of your Hero friends. The bunny woman and that stupid bird.”

“Rumi and Keigo? I’m going to assume it was Hawks who gave you it.”

His laugh was his response as he broke off and entered the kitchen sitting on the barstool looking around brain flooding with so many memories, you and him dancing music playing in the background dinner on the stove, or the times he held your legs open fucking you hard like it was his last time over the counter.

You padded back in the kitchen grabbing your plate from the microwave handing it to him not ignoring his looks until you snapped, “God damn it Tamaki did you come here in hopes that we would get back? I told you that it can’t happen. We can never work out, we want so many different things.”

Indigo eyes looked at you hard and unforgiving before dissolving into despair and something pitiful, “No, I told you why. Your house was close and after Dabi left I had to find somewhere and I really can’t go to the hospital after what we did last week.”

“Yeah, you’re wanted for grand theft and so many more things I couldn’t even list them.”

Tamaki shrugged his shoulders and picked at the food, the image of him hunched over barely eating not acting himself tugged at your heartstrings. More than anything you wanted to wrap your arms around him letting him know that you still love him.

You still love him.

A fact you did not want to surface as he sat half-naked and dripping wet on your barstool.

It didn’t help the fact that you also wore a top that covered the tops of your thighs.

“If you really want me to stop doing all of this,” Tamaki gestured to the new wound and old battle scars, “I would do it, I’d do anything to be with you again bunny. You don’t have to believe me but I love you, and I will forever. I might be a bad guy but I want to be a good guy for you.”

His sudden confession was enough to make your head snap up to look at him feeling the pit in your stomach widen. Your heart raced in your chest making you dizzy. It was all you and Tamaki fought about the last couple of months of the relationship, the thing that finally drove a wedge between you two.

“You can’t come back and say all of that when I begged you to stop, every night I was worried you weren’t going to come home and I stayed up waiting for you to get back drunk and mean.”

You felt proud for standing up for yourself, it was something that finally needed to happen.

“I know and I can apologize for that or try to make up for it now, I screwed up my first chance and I promise I won’t do it again.”

Your bottom lip quivered listening to his words but his actions are what you needed to see.

“Don’t cry bunny,” Tamaki slid off the barstool before walking over to you wrapping you in his arms, the sudden contact broke the dam you’ve been holding in. After months of not being held or human contact, you melted against him clinging like you were scared if he let you go then you’d disappear.

He felt warm.

And familiar.

“Shh, I’m here now, I’ve missed you.”

His words were the last nail in the coffin. With your arms wrapped around his waist, you buried your head in his neck tasting the salty tears that streaked his bare skin, “I’ve missed you too Tamaki. Damn it, I haven’t been with anyone since we broke up.”

When you pulled your head up to look at him Tamaki smiled and kissed your lips softly at first barely pressing together then his hands are cupping your cheeks deepening the touch between you and him, he wanted to be greedy and grope your flesh, hungry and needy. His tongue tasting every inch of you until you were crying for him to stop.

He wants to make up for all these missed months but it was happening too fast, your hands worked on his belt trying to pull his pants down, “Hey, wait a minute. Shouldn’t we talk first?” Tamaki asked, hooking his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you want this as much as I do?” Your voice came out strained and foreign, “Tamaki. Don’t make me beg, please. Only you know how to help me cum and that’s what I want, I want to cum.”

Each word only constricted his heart and dick, it wasn’t fair for him to finally have his dream but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“I’m trying to keep my hands off of you but you keep begging for me to touch you and I don’t want to be an asshole bunny, tell me what you want me to do to you.” Tamaki demanded, his voice and personality shifting to the Tamaki you love the most, the one who roughs you up, gives you everything you need without even having to ask. Your body was a map that he knew front to back, your sighs were different calls for things that you liked.

No one else knows you the way he does.

“I like it when you’re an asshole,” You whispered, grabbing his hand and putting it between your legs, rough calloused skin brushed against your clit.

“Do you?” Tamaki asked, grabbing the back of your neck with his free hand, “But I know what you really want.”

You felt his hands turn into tentacles sucking at your flesh, the sensation barely there but you could still feel it when one suction-cupped to your clit drawing the swollen bud in as another tentacle probed your pussy spreading your slick lips apart.

“Oh my bunny, you are so wet.” Tamaki groaned using the rest of his appendages to lift your shirt up, tentacles wrapped around your breasts squeezing and massaging, “Tamaki.” You begged, what for? You weren’t sure.

“I know, I’ll take good care of my sweet girl, have you been neglected? I know you were using one of your vibrators, let me guess were you watching hentai?”

Your eyes glassed over in embarrassment even though you and he watched countless videos of all sorts trying to bend your bodies in almost impossible ways and after bruised shins and foreheads Tamaki suggested using his tentacles which soon became an almost everyday thing.

A tiny mouth wrapped around your nipple latching on the bud drawing each pulse from your core like an echo. The tentacle that was working on your pussy finally pushed its way inside, one at first stretching you out as it flattened against your cervix, you felt incredibly full.

You groaned and rolled your head back gripping Tamaki’s arms moaning looking at him, the need for him so obvious that he took a step back wiping his forehead returning his limbs to normal, you gasped and fell forward a little catching yourself.

“Why did you stop?” You asked panting.

“Because if I keep going I won’t be able to stop myself until you’re nothing but a mess of cum, drool, and tears. I haven’t been with anyone since you bunny.”

Another confession that stunned you momentarily before you ripped your shirt off closing the gap between you and Tamaki, “Are you worried that if we do this then I’ll kick you out afterward? You would have to take care of me if you have your way with me.” You smiled and dipped your hand in his pants stroking his cock finally, he sighed softly and kissed you pressing his tongue in stroking and tasting.

It wasn’t enough, both of you wanted more, greedy and hungry for each other. Tamaki snarled when you sank to your knees yanking his boxers down to his knees letting the fabric pool. You kept your hand around the base of his dick before your mouth was sucking him in, your throat nice warm and wet.

Fireworks burst inside your stomach when he moaned your name, your toes curled as you took him in deeper using your saliva making it easier to take his length, “I forgot how cute you look with my cock in your mouth.” Tamaki grunted snapping his hips ramming his dick further down your throat.

Tears stung your eyes as you held onto his thighs and let him hold the top of your head using your mouth for his own pleasure, the wet slaps of his balls hitting your chin echoed through the kitchen. He hissed above you grabbing a chunk of your hair pulling you off with a wet pop.

“Stand up.” Tamaki helped you to your feet quickly, “Tamaki!” You squealed, surprised, “Remember your wound?” A laugh fell from you, shocking both you and Tamaki who watched you lovingly, “Don’t lose that laugh, it’s the best sound in the world, and don’t worry about my wound sweetheart, I won’t strain myself.”

With your arm around his waist you walked with him to the couch laying on your back spreading your legs, Tamaki kneeled between them, you watched again with hazy eyes as his fingers turned into tentacles that wrapped around your thighs spreading your lips apart, both you and Tamaki could hear how wet you were.

Thankfully it was dark in the living room aside from the random flashes of lighting when you saw the look in his eyes.

Tamaki was starving and the only meal that could feed the insatiable feeling sitting in his stomach was you.

“When was the last time you came?” He asked abruptly, still eying your drooling pussy watching it pool around your ass, the tight hole he’s thought about exploring but that would have to be saved for another time.

“It’s been a while, I haven’t had sex with anyone and nothing has been able to make me cum.”

Your voice came out breathy and whiny as you shifted your hips feeling the suction back on your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” You curled your fingers around the couch dropping your head back keeping your back arched trying to shut your legs but two thick strong tentacles kept them apart, “Don’t be so shy now, I’ve seen this pussy bouncing on my cock so many times I’ve lost count.”

Your flesh burned like a wildfire watching as he pulled the tentacle off your clit to drag it up your slit gathering the wetness, he pulled it back looking at how your slick dripped, “I haven’t seen you this wet in such a long time bunny, I’m sorry you haven’t been taking care of, I know just the spots,” he broke off thrusting a tentacle in your cunt suction cupping to your walls keeping still.

Your eyes went wide with your mouth going slack feeling the fat root slowly crawl deeper spreading your walls to an almost impossible width, “Tamaki- wait s’big,” you whined trying to scramble away from the pressure between your legs, “Just for a second bunny, I want to make sure I can get you pregnant.”

His words didn’t register in your blissed-out brain when he began to move the tentacle slowly in and out, he leaned down and spit on your stretched cunt. Tamaki’s eyes sparkled hearing the lewd sounds coming from something so delicate, the way you took him was impressive.

Your eyes focused enough to see him pull back putting his hands on your breasts, flesh against flesh. Thumbs rough brushing over your nipples pulling them into aching peaks, Tamaki bent down wrapping his lips around the bud circling it with his warm tongue.

“Oh, more, more,” You babbled feeling the tentacle go deeper rubbing against your cervix feeling it soften with the secretions that pumped through your now opened cunt which leaked cum from the orgasm that took you by surprise, cum frothed around the base of the tentacle as your body jerked.

“You’re ovulating aren’t you?” Tamaki asked, pulling away from your breast. You opened your eyes blinking a few times before nodding your head slowly, his words bounced in your brain a few times before you sat up, “Are you sure?” You asked wrapping your arm around his shoulder pulling him down pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “If you really want a baby then breed me please, I want you to pump me full.”

That’s all he needed to hear before pulling the tentacle from between your legs, you gasped loudly going from feeling so full to empty in such a short amount of time, “Give me a warning-” You were cut off when Tamaki flicked his tongue against your battered pussy, your clit throbbed in his mouth as the wet muscle turned into a tentacle sliding back in your cunt probing at your cervix again.

You whined, throwing your head back curling your fingers in Tamaki’s hair, feeling the large muscle thinned at the tip pressing you open, “Tamaki!” Your voice came out hoarse so did the protests when you felt the tentacle pierce your cervix making way to your womb, the pressure in your stomach snapped sending your body into a frenzy of tingles and a hot flash, “What are you doing?” You gasped grabbing Tamaki’s hair pulling him up, “Hey,” He snapped rubbing his scalp, “calm down, first of all, my tentacles secretes this substance, let’s think of it as an aphrodisiac so that’s why when you had your first orgasm it took you by surprise and when I fuck you I can fill your womb with my seed breeding you like the dumb little cock slut that you are.”

His words were dirty and filthy but his tone came out sweet and promising.

You reached for his cock wrapping your fingers around the shaft jerking him off, “I need you now, please.” You begged him, “Wait a minute, bunny, okay? Don’t you want to make this last?” He asked, chuckling watching your pussy twitch and drool again.

“No!” You rolled your eyes.

“You asked for this, I’m going to give you what you want and you’re going to take it, do you understand me?” He asked, holding your jaw thumbing your bottom lip blindly trying to thrust in you hips snapping wildly against yours battering before he finally slid in bottoming out.

His cock slipped past your cervix easily fucking into you deep and hard feeling just how soft and wet you really are past the normal barrier of your cunt.

Tamaki growled pinning your hips down as he thrust in and out with his head buried in the crook of your neck, his arms now hooked under your armpits pressing your breasts against his chest rubbing your nipples over his rough flesh.

Your poor cunt pulsated around Tamaki’s cock hot and velvety squeezing him, he didn’t want to cum just yet but it was getting to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore so he pulled out despite both of your protests, “I can’t cum just yet.” He said thumbing your pussy apart watching your cum trickle down, he scooped it up and sucked on his fingers groaning.

Tamaki sat between your open legs pressing sweet slow kisses to your inner thighs suckling on the slick flesh from your orgasm, “I don’t want to wait anymore, I don’t care when you cum just fuck me now.”

He laughed again turning his fingers into tentacles once more shoving two of them in your gaping hole at once thinning the muscles straining against the sudden intrusion, “Fuck!” You cried feeling tears stinging your eyes as they streamed down your cheeks.

“I got to get you ready some more, just relax bunny.” He soothed, kissing away your tears shoving them deeper, spreading you open more pumping another round of aphrodisiacs in your dripping cunt, your body went into a paralyzed-like state, liquid ecstasy flowed through your veins drawing your orgasm higher and higher.

Tamaki yanked the tentacles out of you before plunging his cock in feeling you clamp around him sending you into an orgasm that curled your toes and fingers making you cry out loudly, drool dripping down your chin pooling around your neck as your pussy twitched sending Tamaki into his own orgasm losing control of his hips ramming against you chasing his climax.

Your name came out in guttural groan when he filled your womb hot and sticky with his seed over and over until your stomach swelled with his cum leaking out from your pussy.

Tamaki kept fucking you sending both of you into overstimulation, your cum creamy around his dick as you came over and over again pushing Tamaki into his last orgasm, snarling like a wild animal pinning you down ramming his cum in your womb watching your tummy bulge.

He pulled out hearing the wet squelch of your cum soaked pussy. “Are you okay bunny?” Tamaki asked, laying down, pulling you in his arms.

You were fully fucked out, “I’m fine,” You replied snuggling against his chest feeling your eyes droop shut.

Tamaki wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his chest and placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, “Now you’ll be mine forever.” He whispered.

[finalfrontierpublishing]

So it's been a while since i posted any books - mostly because i've been hiding my progress like a little sneak.

I just finished this bind last night of The Desert Storm by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, or really it's volume 1 out of like ??? 15, maybe. Please take whatever i say with a pinch of salt (I have had 0 sleep for more than 24 hours, and that tends to make me a little very sleep-deprivation drunk a.k.a. unhinged). Okay, on to thoughts! The Desert Storm was foisted onto me by @celestial-sphere-press who told me under no uncertain terms that I WOULD FUCKING LOVE THIS SHIT. Well, I did. This more than 1 million word epic about Ben Fuckin' Kenobi is pretty much god-tier fanfiction. It reads like a goddamn novel. I can never think of canon again without thinking that this good shit should be canon. I read it and then consumed half of it within a week, and I have zero regrets. @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, i absolutely love you and love your writing. It is the best thing since sliced bread. It is better than sliced bread.

I also had the benefit of @celestial-sphere-press saying, hey would you want to use the typeset? MY GOD, i am grateful. I love this fic, i would have typeset it if it hadn't been typeset but Des did such a beautiful job that i am absolutely in awe and thankful that she and the author allowed others to use it. Look at it - it's so beautiful. I only had to think hey, i just gotta design the cover and et cetera and so the book happened.

Please also check out @celestial-sphere-press 's amazing post here and here, who is the only person i know who's started and is almost complete in fanbinding this epic, and is also making an author a copy of the entire series.

Some stats, if you will.

96215 words || 380 pages

Title font: Ghaomiec

I took some inspiration from starblight bindery's lovely desert scape as well as this amazing cover of Dune which i own. I love that the landscape emanates Dune vibes while being oh so Tattooine - just sand and heat, relentless loneliness and melancholy. This fic centres around Obi-Wan Infinite Sadness Kenobi so it needed SAD VIBES TM, which i tried to deliver in desolate landscape form.

Also thank the heavens for Renegade members, who in a masterful stroke of Group Buy Saves Money, managed to source extra-out-of-production colours of Colibri and help a fair number of us get really cool limited edition versions of bookcloth. I am now a proud owner of a lorge stash of Duo and Colibri of which i am now sitting on like a shifty dragon with a hoarding problem. Good luck getting your bookcloth now, Folio Society, ha ha (gloating)! This particular bookcloth is Colibri Copper which has been wholly stashed for The Desert Storm series. I am leaning on transitioning to Malachite for Rise and Fall when I get to it.

The front cover design was done with a stock image and converted to a PNG, which i then fiddled with and did some HTV magic with. It was remarkably easier to weed than expected. I tried something new and ironed the design on the naked bookcloth first before gluing it to the boards, which was a new challenge in making sure everything was aligned.

Endpapers are marbled endpapers (Renato Crepaldi) which I got from Hollanders, which perfectly fit the colour scheme of the bind. The only hiccup was as I was cutting, I realized the sheet was running in the opposite direction of his usual papers and half the size, and only yielded 3 A5 size endpapers and so my heart went noooooooooo. oh well. i guess i will use it for quartos.

Endbands are my favourite - silk in 3 colours in the french doublecore style (as i was binding this i did not have the mental capacity to handle the difficulty of 4 strands). the truth is i usually only can do 4 when I have higher brain function and am willing to spend 80% of my time unraveling it from getting tangled.

I also forgot to mention I had mild fuck-ups, I got glue on the front endpaper which I had to hastily remove with wet cloth, and the back square is preposterously bad but I'm ignoring it for now.

Anyway, i've actually managed to complete a few other binds which have not been mentioned here as they've all been gifts/ surprises or event books in some form. I am SO EXCITED, also because I am travelling in the latter half of July to San Diego and L.A. and I get to meet some bookbinding friends in the flesh. Renegade is fucking amazing y'all. I am ready to embrace these crazy lads who have enabled me for the last 1 year, even when i'm the solitary (1) weirdo from my country of origin in the server. Also... potentially bookbinding trip early next year??? I am enthused.

[sprout-fics]

Okay wait I need to know. What would Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla/Boba Fett’s reactions to riduur in lingerie be 👀

A Mandalorian being soft and horny for their S/O in lingerie is something that can be so personal

Boba Fett

Green

It's fucking green, of course

Strappy too, little bands criss-crossing over your curves, hugging your hips, your tits, your thighs

You call to him from your bathroom together in the palace, the one attached to his suite, pausing coquettishly in the doorway as he looks up and stares

He doesn't speak, not at first, but he does blink a few times as a pleased, knowing smile spreads over his lips

"Come closer, little one." He beckons, putting aside the armor he had been tending to, spreading his thighs and inviting you to stand between them

You pace over, feigning shyness, swaying your hips in a canting little walk that has him chuckle before you pause between his legs

His hands cup your ass, and you stand on your toes a little with a gasp, smirking knowingly down at him, hands resting on his shoulders

"and where did you get the funds for this, hmm?" He asks, and snaps one of the bands against your flesh, making you stifle a grinning little yelp

"I...may have borrowed some cash from your account." You tell him cheekily, and Boba raises an eyebrow up at you, his pleased eyes betraying him as he attempts to glower in disapproval

"So it belongs to me, then." He muses, and you do gasp this time when his hands squeeze on your ass, imprinting his fingers there.

"So I shall be the one taking it off."

You don't have time to protest, because he secures his arms around you, topples with you back against silk sheets

Paz Vizsla

He's dumbfounded

You can tell, even with his helmet on. The way Paz freezes when he sees you without your armor, dressed in floaty, gauzy teal underwear tells you everything to know about the expression on his face

It's quickly pushed aside, however, as he stands, uses three long strides to cross the room to where you stand. Your warrior stalks towards you like you perhaps might duck under his grasp, might try and flee

You don't, of course. There's no way you would. Your Paz is safety, warmth, shelter, a bastion of protection that you lay your affections into ceaselessly.

His hands outstretch to you, take the silky, draped fabric between his gloved fingers and holds it aloft as if to examine it. Entirely foreign, unexpected for a man of his resolve and brutal efficiency. Yet endearingly gentle with you as he asks:

"All this...for me?"

You beam up at him, hearing the touch of tenderness, of want in his voice, shifting on your feet so you splay your bare hand flat against his chest plate

"Just for you, Riduur." You purr, balancing on your toes as you stretch up to bestow a chaste little kiss on his Ka'rta, the iron heart where his soul lays.

When he growls, the sound is warm but possessive, shivering through your exposed skin as his hand drops, curls suggestively against the roundness of your hip.

"I think I like you better out of armor" He rumbles, and your eyes dance as you stare up through his visor.

"I think I like you that way too"

The hand at your hip flexes, drags you closer to him so you're pressed flush against his form

"The come and take it off, Riduur."

Din Djarin

It hadn't been the color you originally hoped for, but the options in the Nevarro market had been sparse, so you had to make do

You frown in front of the mirror, fingering the white, delicate, lacy material of the chemise. It's too girlish, you think. Too...virginal. Maybe he'll think it looks silly

You yelp when he knocks on the door of the bathroom behind you, surprise ringing out before you can stop it. Worry instantly colors his voice when he calls out for you, and in your rush to reassure him you knock over a clatter of items from the sink

He opens the door before you an stop him, as you lean back and look up at him nervously

Din freezes, halfway inside, one hand still on the door control.

"What-" He tries, voice tight, strained. "What are you wearing?"

He doesn't like it, you think, and your chin falls to your chest

"I thought...I'd surprise you." You tell him lamely, and for a moment he doesn't move, doesn't breathe.

He moves forward at last, crowds you back into the sink, wedges a beskar clad thigh between yours, lifts your chin to his stare

"You look...really nice." Din manages at last, and for some reason your fearsome bounty hunter sounds shy.

"Really?" You mumble, and Din gives you a tight, quick nod as he swallows.

"Can you take it off?" He asks then. "I want to see you."

You shiver at that, at the clear indication in his voice, but retain enough wherewithal to pout at him.

"I literally just got it on." You whine, and something changes in Din's gaze at that, a subtle shift of his head so the lights of the room don't dance across his visor, darkening his stare. His body shifts, presses closer to you, cold radiating from his armor as his voice dips low in your ear.

"Take it off. Or I will."

(tagging @zwiiicnziiix)

[hannahlovesluca]

Hihihihihi K Anon here :DD

Feel free to do this last or put this one as the last in the row !!

Can i request Luxiem boys(+ Ver cause he's my pathetic boyfailure)'s reactions to finding out that their s/o has a naturally cold body temperature?Like you'd think they'd be warm from their personality but when you touch them it's just freezing cold and they just go (:

Anyways please take care of yourself,drink and eat enough and rest enough !! Your health is important pookie

-K Anon

Luxiem + Ver with S/O Who has a Cold Body Temperature

• before you guys had actually met up irl (met through NIJI) and you told him how cold your hands always were, he lowkey didnt believe you because you just have such a warm personality

• however, when you guys first get together irl, first thing he’s doing is holding your hand because he’s so smitten

• and then his eyes go wide and hes just like??

• even though you don’t actually feel cold, he’ll take both of your hands in his and try to warm them up

• he also lowkey likes it too because he definitely prefers to be cold when sleeping and when you guys are cuddling hes just 🥰🥰

• our boyfailure just loves u sm!!!

• i love ver but i’ll be honest idk too much about him so writing for him is xtra hard 😭😭

• lets say you guys knew each other before niji

• maybe you went to the same high school and started dating then?

• anyway he genuinely worries for you, he does his research and its a pretty big sign for low iron so he’ll probably always ask if theres anything thats bothering you and you have to reassure him that its okay

• im sorry but he DEFINITELY blows on your hands softly to warm them up :((

• hes such a horndog but he can be so so soft and sweet

• and he knows how soft he is with you and isnt afraid to admit that he is!!

• he will NOT hide the fact that he loves you!!

• even if you’re not actually cold your skin just is, he’ll still tuck you in with extra blankets and make sure to cuddle the coldest parts of your body!!

• im sorry but he cracks a few jokes about you being elsa or some shit

• he probably flinches the first time he feels how cold your hand is :((

• he prefers being cozy and warm so it’s a big adjustment for him but he’ll do ANYTHING for you!!!

• definitely teases you about it as long as he knows your comfortable with it, otherwise he wouldnt

• i watch mysta, but again, not one of my oshi’s so its somewhat hard to think of things to add but i swear im trying

• even after knowing about your body temperature, he still probably flinches sometimes :((

• poor baby loves you so much and he wants you to know that and he feels so fucking bad because he doesn’t think hes showing it enough

• apologizes to you repeatedly about it :(

• much like vox, he’ll definitely make sure you’re always covered up even if you’re not actually cold

• “mysta, im having a heat stroke..”

• “too bad.” *sticks tongue out at you*

• GOLDEN RETRIEVER GIVES YOU HIS GLOVES

• “y/n, baby, are you okay? 🥺”

• looks at you exactly like that emoji

• holds your hands in his and probably presses them up against his chest for extra warmth 💟💟

• is the type to make you hot chocolate not only because it tastes good and you like it but because it’ll warm up your body

• hes so thorough with everything he does and remembers everything about you :((

• much like vox, he looks it up and once he sees that it could be something like low iron hes just like :0

• he hadnt even thought about that!!! what kind of a boyfriend was he!!!!

• ^ the best one ever

• HE LOVES TAKING WARM SHOWERS/BATHS WITH YOU

• im brain rotting i want to shower with him

• pls he deserves so much love how has he never had a gf anyone would be so lucky shouldve been me shouldve been me oh my god

• no parasocial

• anyways probably tells the lucubs and your fanbase about how cold you are just naturally and how hes worried, and when the clip gets shown to you youre just like 🥹🥹🥹

• “yeah, chat! Y/N is so cold, it kinda worries me. Apparently it can mean a lot of things and im scared they might have low iron or something..” *with a pout*

• and that was when they realized something was going on between you two

• THE MAN OF SEX HIMSELF

• anyways, much like vox, he definitely blows softly on your hands with warm breath to warm them up im so :(

• he also, like luca, will probably get you gloves (he would lend you his but they wouldn’t fo much)

• he probably reads to you while holding your hand and will look at you now and then just to make sure you’re ACTUALLY not cold

• he worries so much about you and being an overthinker doesnt help his case

• i imagine he’ll probably breathe on your hands whilst singing to you softly and just cradling you in his arms

• the man wants nothing more than for you to be happy and healthy and and and and

• ugh he just wants you to have everything good in life because you deserve it and

• i could rant about this man for ages plz restrain me

• anyway if he catches you wearing the gloves he bought you his heart will explode because he got you those and its just so :))))))))

• yk that Harry Styles song “Falling” thats literally him with you thats him in a relationship i cant explain it i just

• he also has a naturally cold body temp

• so the first time he holds your hands hes just :D

• much like ver, he prefers sleeping somewhat cold so when he cuddles you hes practically in heaven 🥰🥰

• his head buried in your chest while cuddling i cant

• brain is not functioning

• shu is just such a chill guy he wouldnt really have that much of a reaction 😭😭

[bu-blegh-ost]

Okay so this has been eating at me so much. That last scene between Gillion and Zamia in ep. 112.

-See? You didn't have anything to be worried about. Looks like you found yourself a new oath, paladin.

-How have you done it? Being so devoted to your oath?

-I think when things seem worse, when things seem dark, I...look around. And never far from me is someone to remind me what I'm fighting for. [looks at Chip and Jay]

-So your power comes from people you care for too, then?

And this is when Gillion starts stammering really hard and ends the conversation, as if something horrible were to happen if he admitted to it. Grizzly metions something about him almost becoming an Oath Breaker, and this makes me wonder what kind of oath Gillion is under to not be able to fight and draw courage and will to keep going from those he loves. And please mind, I do not have Patreron, so if more details were listed somewhere there, then I have no access to it, but the way I see it, whatever he was forced to swear that would make him react like that must have been an awfully cruel promise. To not be able to admit that other people give him strength, to have this burden of always distancing himself away from other's warmth. I don't think whatever oath Elders prepared for him all these years ago is worth keeping anymore, and it is inevitable for Gillion to realise it one day and finally break it. Break it, and make a new one, one that will allow him to devote himself to the ones who were always by his side, just like Zamia did.

Do you think he was thinking about it? About his own place in the world among the joy of celebration? He felt excitement and happiness for the girls of course, but maybe a pang of jealousy too? A pang of emptiness? When he said to them "May you both be each other's destinies," it felt...important. It felt like words that carried weight to them. Because Gillion doesn't say the word "destiny" lightly anymore. But he was sincere in it. There is nothing more beautiful than to dedicate one's destiny not to fate, or god, or a principle, but to a person. One you chose to walk the rest of your life with, one you chose on your own. I think about Gillion standing there between the two lovers, giving them a new beautiful purpose in life...and being left to wonder how ironic it is, that as the one standing here, making this possible, he feels like he has no purpose at all. That he is being led the path that slowly feels more and more meaningless, and that the only reason he does want to keep going is because of the people he is not allowed to love. How when he talks to Jay, he says he hopes that the two of them finding him was just a coincidence. How much he wants their love, and how much he wants to give back in return, but how he is so, SO afraid, that everything they've been through together is something he was forced into as well, that it's not real. But he wants it to be so bad. Because he loves them so much it hurts. Because he can't bear to carry this burden anymore without them. Because he's lost and all he wants is for them to reach for him and hug him and take his hand and walk gently with him through the path of their own making.

He wants to do all of that so bad, but he can't.

Somehow, he just can't.

Not yet.

But one day, he will.

[dirigibleplumbing]

If you're like me, sometimes you need the full text of Civil-War-era Tony's letter to Steve in the event of his death from "What If? Fallen Son" (2009). So here it is in its entirety!

If you notice any typos on my part, please let me know.

I put line breaks wherever the text was broken up, either by being in different sections of a panel or different panels/pages. I preserved the ellipses, though I didn't double them (in many cases a section of text would end in "..." and then the next section would also begin with "..."). I also didn't double up line breaks and ellipses.

Steve, I hope you never have to read this, old friend, because if you do, it means something terrible has happened. It means I'm dead. I suppose it shouldn't come as much of a surprise, really. During my years as Iron Man, I've racked up hundreds of enemies who wanted to do me in… and after recent events, probably a few old friends who feel the same. It's funny, though. I always prided myself on being a futurist--constantly thinking a leap ahead of everyone else. Apparently, that leap wasn't nearly far enough. But this letter is about looking forward--not back. It doesn't matter what killed me. All that matters is what happens next… and the legacy I've left behind. I'm not talking about Iron Man, either. The suit is nothing without the right man inside… and there aren't many I'd trust to pilot. Rhodey. Pepper. Happy. Maybe Jarvis… though he was never really the hero-type. And you, Steve. Whether you believe it or not, I always trusted you. Even during the darkest days--during the war--I never stopped believing in you. No one did. But like I said, this isn't about choosing a new Iron Man. There was a world before him, and there will be one after. This is about my ideas--the plans and inventions that I hoped would make the world a better place. This is about making sure those things don't fall into the wrong hands. I don't even want to imagine the suffering that could cause… That's where you come in it. I need your help, Steve. I need you to keep an eye on things now that I can't anymore--which is a lot to ask, I know, after what I've put you through. Still you're the only one I trust to make certain everything I was working for doesn't fall apart without me… and to ensure that the threats that I wasn't around to predict… don't end up blindsiding us in my absence. Our war may be over, Steve, but we both know that it won't be the last one. When the time comes, the world will still need heroes. And when the fighting is over and history is written… I can only hope that we will be remembered as more than just heroes. I hope that we will be remembered as I will always remember us… As friends.

And the typeface used in the comic is--or is very close to--Lucida Handwriting Light, which used to come free with a lot of Microsoft products.

I also have a rough mock-up of the entire letter.