#and (all of this is before I even realize I’m consciously thinking it too) I’ll go like damn maybe I should do this more!

[luvstarkeyy]

MY EXPERIENCE IN THE VOID STATE

english is not my first language so might have some grammatical errors, be nice pls

So, first of all, this happened to me about a month ago, and I wanted to share this cause it was so random to me.

I never really tried to get into the void state cause I never really understood what that was, I read some stuff before but in my mind was kinda “impossible” for me to get into that state, yknow? So I never rlly cared about that.

But one day I was going to sleep and I listened to some brown noise, cause helps me sleep better, and then I had a nightmare that I was getting followed by someone trying to kill me (?), anyway, this part doesn’t matter, but when I woke up from the nightmare I was in some kind of darkness

Like, all I could see was dark, and I couldn’t feel my body or hear anything. I was scared because of the nightmare so I screamed, but I couldn’t hear myself, was so weird that I thought I was in a sleep paralysis, but then my second thought was like: “shit, maybe I’m shifting”, and then I started to yell my s/o’s name.

Like I said, I still couldn’t hear myself or anything. It felt like I didn’t have a body, like I was just existing, pure consciousness.

But I didn’t realized that it was the void, and I was still scared about the nightmare that I had before, so I just stopped yelling my s/o’s name and tried my best to wake up on my cr asap.

After that, I talked to my friend and she said that I had gotten into the void state. Was so crazy for me cause I didn’t even had to try yknow? I think it just shows how shifting your consciousness is something so natural and you don’t even have to try to do it.

Mb if I wasn’t so scared abt the nightmare I’d have shifted, cause tho I thought in the moment that maybe I was shifting, I was scared to end up shifting into the nightmare, which made me want to wake up on my cr.

My first shift — or mini shift, whatever, — was without intention to shift too. I’ll probably post abt it later.

If you had some experience with the void state too please share in the comments:)

[devil-changmin]

Eating disorder warning / emetophobia warning in tags

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Can I be the helpless victim? (Ghostface! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader x Ghostface! Peter B Parker) Part 2

Hiii! Tbh I wasn’t gonna make a second part but….. why not! Not proofread, also this is my first time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s cringy or badly written.

NSFW!!, Cursing,mentions of reader being drugged, Yandere Peter and Miguel, mentions readers dead boyfriend, Threesome, reader is chained up at beginning, double penetration, pussy slapping, ass slapping, reader gets fucked dumb, Miguel vaguely threatens ready but don’t actually hurt her,use of “good girl”, possessive Miguel and Peter, SMUT!! Non-Con/Dub-con, Dead Dove Do not eat, MDNI!

Word count: 1.4K

Part 1

Masterlist

—

Your head was aching as you began to drift back into consciousness, what a weird dream…

You let out a yawn as you open your eyes, the after effects of your deep slumber made your vision blur, wincing at the harsh light from ceiling light. You go to rub your eyes, but stopping once you notice your wrists are oddly heavy, and the faint nose of medal clinking rang through your ears. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, the dull ache suddenly turning into a massive pounding as you suddenly recall your last waking moments, hitting you like a freight train.

It wasn’t a dream.

Your heart jumps up into your throat as your breath quickened, your hands start to shake as you begin to sit up, only to feel a pair of chains on your ankles as well. You quickly began to squirm on the unfamiliar king size bed, attempting to pull yourself out of the chains knowing full well all your struggling would only result in tiring you out, but your mind was too frantic to think rationally at the moment. Eventually, your arms began to ache from the heavy metal, and the rattling only made your headache worse so you took in a deep breath and cleared your throat, attempting to use your own saliva to lubricate your throat.

“H-hello!” You manage to croak, ignoring the burning that followed, looking around the room. You felt like you were in a fever dream, the room was almost a one by one replica of yours except bigger, and all the pics you had hung up featuring your (now dead) boyfriend were replaced with photos of… wait…

“Angelita…You're up?” A voice asked from the hall, before footsteps were heard, your blood ran cold once the voice found your ears. You know that accent anywhere. You didn’t even realize you were still in the angel/Juliet costume for Halloween on, until he called you that.

“M-Miguel? Is that you?” You already knew the answer though. Your voice shook slightly with each syllable despite your hardest attempts to keep it calm. “What’s-what’s going on?”

There was a small pause, silent growing over the room as you wait for an answer, the only noise where the footsteps drawing closer and the slight shuffling of your chains and sheets as you try to find a more comfortable position in the bed, it was hard though when your heartbeat was so rapid that you could feel it pulsating in your ears.

“Finally… I thought for a bit I had put too much chloroform on the rag I gave Miguel.” A second voice spoke, making you all the more confused upon seeing the two enter the room, but the confusion turned into panic once again once you realized who it belong too.

“Pete-Miguel- you guys gonna let me go.” You pleaded as you try to yank at the chains once more, “Please- please- I don’t know what you want but-“

“Cálmate Angelita… you’re gonna injure those delicate wrists of yours…” Miguel says in an eerily calm tone as he and Peter walked up to you, one on either side of the bed, Miguel wrapping his callous hand around your restant, before giving it a tight squeeze. A pained whimper leaving your lips as he does so, neither of you had to say it out right to know that was a warning. One that said “be a good girl or I’ll break your wrists” and you didn’t want to see if he was just bluffing or not, you knew now what he was capable. What both of them were capable of.

“Don’t-don’t hurt me! I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t hurt me- don’t kill me!” The pleas came out rushed and frantic, letting them fall out of your mouth before your brain could stop the word vomit, fearing what would happen if you angered them for whatever reason. But instead of the angry reaction you were expecting, Peter smirked, a huff of air escaping through his nose as he leaned down, nuzzing your cheek with his nose. A deep and almost sadistic chuckle rumbles from his chest, his hot breath hitting your face, causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps. You wanted to move away but your body froze with fear as you felt his hand go to your stomach, before slowly trailing to the side then down, his index finger tracing a small heart over and over on the side of your hip.

“Anything?” Peter asked, and you swallowed down the limp that had formed in your throat.

Oh how you regret your words already.

—

“What do you say?” Peter asked, almost mockingly.

“Hmm-ahh… ahhh…”

“Poor girl, can’t even think anymore… probably fucked her little brain into mush.” Miguel cooed.

Another whine leaves your lips, your eyes roll so far back Peter could only see the whites of your eyes as he continues to thrust his hips up, his stamina nor his pace wavering despite the two of them having their way with you for over an hour now. He couldn’t help the groan that leaves his lips when Miguel pulls you back to lean against his tan and sweaty chest with a hash tug of your hair, your whine somehow becoming even higher. No matter how much Miguel and Peter have been dreaming of this day, none of it compared to how it was actually happening. Your lewd and borderline pornographic sounds enough for the two grown men to feel like horny teens waking up from their first wet dream.

Expect this was so much better than a wet dream, any fantasy, because it was real. You had finally given yourself to them, even though it wasn't exactly much of a choice, being bound to happen eventually, but the sooner the better. First your body then your mind will follow, and if you don’t, they’ll just fuck you till they pushed any thoughts of resistance out with their cocks, making your brain leak away from between your legs.

You felt so impossibly full, how both could fit inside you was a complete miracle, and you were so overstimulated, your moans turning into nothing but whine and whimpers, the hickies they had riddled all over your body didn’t help either. Your legs were shaking almost as much as the bed underneath you was, and you were sure if Miguel wasn’t guiding you up and down you wouldn’t have been able to move at all. Another gasp leaves your lips when you felt Miguel’s hand slap your left asscheek, followed by Peter hitting your sensitive clit with his palm repeatedly, squirming attempting to get away from their hands, but you didn’t really have anywhere to go as you clenched around them like a vase.

“Muñeca… I need you to try and think for a second…” Miguel said to you in between shallow breaths, you dumbly nodded, despite not comprehending a single word that was said to you. “What’s your name?” He had asked, not being able to hold a smirk from forming on his face. Peter only let out a small eye roll, already knowing where this was going. (Doll)

Your name? Why were they asking you what your name was? You licked your dry lips before attempting to speak.

“My-name…my name is-“

Thruuuust.

Your mouth hung open as you let out another whine. Peter let out a chuckle before dipping his head down into the crook of your neck, nibbling at the dark hickey he left.

“Come on pretty, don’t leave Miguel hanging, you know your name don’t you?” Peter teased, before tugging at the purple and red spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a mix of a moan, a whine and a borderline sob as you shook your head.

“Don’t-don’t know-fuck-don’t re-ahhh-remember… feels too good…”

“Fuck-who owns you?”

“You-ahhh- you do! Both of-fuckfuckfuck- you do!” You exclaimed without much thought, nothing thinking about anything else except the building in your lower stomach as you come close to your 5th orgasim.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise was enough to push you over the edge, your vision becoming spotty as your spasm and twitch uncontrollably around their members, their names falling from your lips like a mantra before eventually slumping over into Peter’s chest. Your breaths heavy as you allow your eyes to flutter shut, Miguel and Peter hold you onto you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as they lull you to sleep.

[mohavesun]

pretty boy - josh futturman x reader <3

going back in time was weird. granted, everything was weird. but seeing your boyfriend in women’s lingerie? weird. but also weirdly sexy.

content warning: 18+!!!, oral (male receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, a bit of choking. josh wearing lingerie in that one episode has me in a chokehold. not proofread so just ignore any mistakes lol

“fuck it, i’ll do it,” you grab the bag off of the asphalt, exactly where tiger dropped it to chase down wolf.

the bag was filled to the brim with silky robes and lacy panties, corsets and garters that would dress your curves perfectly. josh grabbed the bag out of your hands, a mortified expression on his face as he exclaims, “no! no, you can’t, that’s… no, no way.”

your lips curl into a frown. “josh. it’s for the future.”

“wh-f-fuck the future! no! you’re not… i’m… let me do it. i’ll do it.” your boyfriend’s face contorted into a conflicted expression. he looked into the bag, at the lingerie. his lips pressed into a thin line, an evident sign of a thought process emerging from his brain. he finally looked up, putting his hands on your shoulders. “i’ll be right back. love you.” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, before dashing off behind a bush and behind kronish’s house. you just watched, left standing on the sidewalk with an exasperated expression.

would that shit even fit on him? he did have a thin waist. sure, most of your clothes fit him. but he had never worn your lingerie, or underwear, or bras. although the thought of your boyfriend wearing lingerie was… exciting, in a strange way.

-

after what seemed like a million different people running into kronish’s house, tiger being one of them, josh finally ran out.

wearing… a set of silky lingerie.

“josh?” you couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of you. he was wide-eyed, sweat clinging to his forehead, his hair messy, as though he had been jumping through windows or crawling around on all fours. best of all, a shade of coral lipstick was smeared across his lips, smudged across his chin.

he smiled, a fleck of lipstick on his front tooth. “we gotta go, i can’t be seen wearing this,” josh huffs, reaching to your shoulders, an attempt to take your jacket off.

a familiar warmth stirred in your belly as your eyes lingered onto his body, a corset clinging to his chest and a pair of leopard-print panties, making his bulge very prominent, as well as thigh garters hugging his legs. a feather boa was draped around his neck. and fuck, he looked delicious.

“uh.. what?” he looked at your strange expression. your cheeks were lit a flame, your pupils blown, and your mouth suddenly dry, along with a fluttering sensation in your lower stomach.

you stared a moment longer, causing heat to erupt into his face, a blush spreading all over his pale body. “wh-what?” he looked like a deer in headlines, his sweet brown eyes wide, his hands fluttering over his crotch almost self-consciously.

you snap out of your lustful fog, shaking your head with a comforting grin. “no, no, you, uh- you look good! uh, too good. hot. fuck, we have to get you in different clothes, i think i’ll actually have a conniption.” you shed your jacket, throwing it around his shoulders with one last glimpse at his body, soft and kissable, wrapped like a christmas present.

“what?” your boyfriend was dumbfounded, but you could see his pupils blow with the realization that you were into this. he stuttered, “yo-you what? you mean, you’re, like… turned on, right now?”

you grab his hand, hastily pulling him down the sidewalk. he struggled to keep up with your stride, his breathing growing heavier by the moment.

“you’re seriously, like, you’re into this? right now?” josh stutters, trying not to overthink, his eyes fixated on the ways your hips moved in front of him.

“how—how could i not be?” you scoff, practically sprinting towards the futturman house.

“slow down, i-it’s hard to.. fuck,” josh kicked off his heels and began running barefoot behind you.

-

“god, why do you look so good?” you grumbled, helping him into the window of his—or, his uncle barry’s—room. you climbed in behind him, tumbling onto the floor.

josh’s cheeks were bright red, nearly the color of the lipstick that smudged across his lips to his cheek. “i-i didn’t know you were into this kind of thing,” he stammered, holding his hands out to help you stand, like the gentleman he is.

however, as you looked up to grab onto his hand, you were met with the mouth-watering sight of his half-hardened cock pressing against his leopard print panties, a wet patch along his tip.

suddenly, you didn’t feel like getting off the ground anymore.

“you like seeing me like this, don’t you? god, you look so fucking pretty, josh,” you murmur, hands on his knees, trailing your fingertips up his thighs.

josh’s legs trembled under your touch, as sensitive as he always was. “i-ah… yes, yes…”

you hooked your finger under the garter belt, pulling the elastic band back and letting it slap against his thigh, eliciting a soft gasp from your boyfriend.

“please,” josh whimpered, his cock now fully hard in a pair of panties that could barely contain his excitement.

you shift closer, sitting up on your knees and looking up at him. his big, brown eyes were wide, eyebrows knit together and lips slightly parted. you stared into his doe-like eyes as you drag his panties down to his ankles, only breaking eye contact to look at the throbbing, leaking cock in front of you.

you’d never get tired of seeing josh like this—and you’d certainly never seen a prettier cock than his. his tip was flushed a beautiful shade of pink, weeping precum, dripping down to the veins that adorned his shaft. another throb of arousal shot through you at the sight.

“oh, f—oh, my god, please,” josh whined, his hands pulling your hair out of your face, “need you—s-so bad…”

“be patient, pretty boy,” you murmur, dragging your tongue along the inside of his thighs, eliciting a sharp gasp from him.

you pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to his thighs, leaving a trail of hickeys only for you to see, before finally dragging your tongue against his heavy balls, grazing the underside of his cock before reaching his tip, tongue swirling the drop of precum that seeped from his slit.

“oh, mmph—oh, y-yes—“ josh released a series of gratifying moans, his fingers curling in your hair so tightly that it invoked a stinging sensation along your scalp. “feels… so good, oh, god… doing so g-good…”

your mouth enclosed around his tip, tongue along the underside of his shaft, encompassing his dick completely into your warm, wet mouth, until your nose was buried in his tuft of public hair and his tip prodded at the back of your throat.

his lips parted to an O shape, his thighs trembling as he tried desperately not to buck into your mouth.

“mmm…” you hummed against him, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through josh’s veins. your hand teased his balls, gently caressing them as you bobbed your head back at a mind-numbing pace.

your name fell from josh’s pretty red lips, a string of praises following, his hands still tightly wrapped in your hair as he guided your mouth, careful not to gag you.

he was so considerate, even when his cock was stuffed in your mouth.

“soo—so good, fuck,” josh cried, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as his glassy eyes watched you with blown pupils.

you hummed again, allowing him to push your mouth down and back up, pulling your hair just enough to send goosebumps along your skin. your pace gradually increased, bobbing along with the rhythm he created, every movement causing a whine or a whimper from josh.

“i’m close, fuck, can i…? i—mmm, oh, god, let me cum in your throat, please,” he cried, his stomach contracting and his cock throbbing in your mouth. his legs stuttered, hips beginning to twitch and shudder, meeting your mouth half-way with sloppy thrusts.

“mm—mhm,” was the only response you could muster, drool dribbling down your lip and down your chin.

the vibration of your voice only amplified his orgasm, causing him to push your head against his cock, messily fucking into your mouth as his dick twitched, releasing spurts of hot cum down your throat, choking and gagging you.

“so—sorry, i’m-im so—oo sorry, mmmphh!” josh moaned, eyes rolling back as he choked you against his cock before pulling out, tip still seeping cum onto your chin, a string of semen connecting his slit to your lips.

you gasped for air, swallowing and taking deep breaths, hands holding onto his thighs for support.

“holy—shit, a-are okay? oh, god, i’m sorry, it just—f-felt so good,” josh knelt down, his hands wiping away the sweat on your forehead. his fingers were shaky as he tried to clean your face, eyes wide with worry and cheeks flush from his orgasm.

“i’m—fine…” you breathed, nodding before raising your hand to his cheek, thumb swiping at the smudge of lipstick, “you’re… so hot.”

[softcaesar]

WE SHOULDN'T — NANAMI KENTO part two (contains smut)

context : one bed, two friends…? surely friends sleep in the same bed, right…? wait… why was he pressing into you?!

pairing : nanami kento x f!reader

content and warnings : very OOC nanami, no curses + college au, SMUT, dry humping, slight grinding, masturbation, somnophilia, dubcon(?)

!! please read part one first !!

You wake up a total of three times over the course of your sleep in Nanami Kento’s dorm room.

The first time, you stir awake with a sudden shudder. The temperature of Kento's room has grown so frigid, and the skin of your arms is covered with goose flesh. You shiver again and huddle into a ball. You have no way of knowing how much time had elapsed, but you get the sense it wasn’t any longer than fifteen minutes.

“Kento?” you call out, rubbing your eyes. His desk appears abandoned, and the lampshade had been turned off. Where was he? The shuffling of slippers grabs your attention, and you crane your head to look for the source. Kento stands in the small kitchenette outside his room, preparing a coffee. The kettle is boiling. His profile is turned slightly, so you could see the gentle frown of concentration on his face while he fiddles with the coffee tin.

He was so beautiful. How had you spent so many months sitting behind him in Ecology, or across from him in the library, without coming to realize just how ethereally alluring he is? You’re so cold, even with the heavy blanket over you. You huddle up and shiver again, your eyes about to drift closed again until you hear a small sound from Kento. He’s humming. It’s so faint that you can barely hear, but the humming grows a little louder as Kento seems to get more comfortable with the tune. You don’t recognize it at all, but his voice is a subtle, lush baritone. Smiling to yourself, you let the sound of Kento’s gentle voice carry you back to sleep.

The second time you wake up from your sleep, your consciousness is muddled; you’d clearly been asleep for much longer this time. You feel a gentle pressure in your palms, and when your eyes flutter open, you’re looking straight at Kento standing beside the bed as he stares at you. He removes his hand from your palm.

He carefully removes a stray hair caught between your lips. “Sorry to wake you,” he says, holding red blanket in his arms. “You’re shivering.”

You groan softly. His hands are a stark contrast to your frigid ones, which almost tingle with the heat radiating from his skin. You’re so cold, and he’s so warm. In your reduced state of consciousness, it’s all you can think about.

“I don't have any spare blankets but Yu does.” Kento says. You don’t object as he places it over you. With his help, you tuck yourself under the covers, too sleepy to care about how weird it the situation was. Altogether, the sheets smelled clean and feel warm.

“What's the time?” you mumble.

“It's 2am,” he says, and before you could say anything, he interjects, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Your eyes still feel heavy, and you can’t keep them open. “You don’t have to; I can make room.”

He stares at you.

“I’m serious.” You grasp for his warm hand and pull it weakly toward you.

He stays quiet.

You’re too tired to say anything; you just scoot your body closer to the wall. Kento debates for a minute before finally giving in. He climbs on the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight, and pulls the covers on top of him. His body heat radiates under the comforter, and you lean closer to him against your better judgment.

Ahh, heat. You turn on your side and settle in once more, but not before glancing at Kento. He lays on his back, as close to the edge of the mattress as possible. He’s staring up at the ceiling, his expression somehow neutral and alert at the same time. You feel your synapses shutter and eventually fall asleep.

The third time you wake up, you’re not cold at all anymore. In fact, you’re quite hot.

It doesn’t take long before you realize the source of the heat. Kento is no longer curled up at the opposite edge of the mattress. Instead, he’s pressed up against you now. His arm is draped over your chest, and his breath is hot on your neck.

You whisper his name in surprise, but he doesn’t move. He’s fast asleep, you realize. His skin is sweltering against yours, and although the covers have been cast off during your sleep, you’re now almost too hot. Though not uncomfortably so. You attempt to shift away from under his arm and toward the wall. You want to avoid any awkwardness when he wakes up. But your movement stirs him anyway. He immediately reaches back out for you, his hand grasping your waist. He hugs your body, his whole torso flush against your side.

No. No. You gasp at the sensation of his groin against your backside. You’re definitely awake now. But he’s not. A thin sheen of sweat coats the small of your back. He grips onto your waist like a vice, strong and sure, despite that he’s asleep. You couldn’t move away if you tried.

Kento’s lips part and a breathy sigh escapes him. You’re terrified of waking him up, of the humiliation that would ensue from both parties if he opens his eyes to this. So, you attempt once more to shift your hips away from his.

He grasps you again and brings his pelvis back against yours, clinging to you like you’re his life support.

He’s hard.

His sweatpants do nothing to mask it. You can feel all of him pressed between your thighs.      

You exhale shakily. That didn’t work at all. What now?

If you really wanted to move, you still could pry his fingers from your waist and roll away. But the jostling of the bed would surely wake him up.

And you don’t want to move. Kento’s hot breath fanning out over your chest, his body against yours. It’s doing more to your own body than you’re willing to admit. But you can’t admit that. You resolve to push him off and not let this go any farther.

Until he moves again, grinding against you ever so softly. Another low, involuntary moan comes from his throat. At the end of his breath, you hear a simple word from his lips.

“(name)…”

It’s so quiet, you think at first you imagined it. But it happens again. The gentle buck of his hips, followed by your name in a low moan. A tremor of heat overtakes your stomach, right down to your core.

It’s about you.

The idea of his name on your lips like this felt so intimate, so sensual, and paired with the carnal bucking of his hips, his large erection rock-solid between your thighs. Wetness pools at your entrance. Each time he moves, his cock seems to rub against it. There’s a low ache deep inside of you that you haven’t felt in a while.

Fuuuuuck.

Despite your better judgment, you arch your back and press into Kento’s hips – a small movement – just once. He responds with a low growl that you can feel reverberating in his chest against your back. His cock twitches. Your breath rushes in with a sharp inhale. Sweat beads on your forehead. You’ve never felt this hot before in your life. But it’s wrong. You shouldn’t move. You should stop Kento before it goes on any longer. He’s asleep, and he’s your classmate, or friend, or whatever. This shouldn't be happening. Classmates or friends don't dry hump each other.

No, this is real, and it’s happening now.

And if you make him stop, he’ll wake up to find himself grinding against your ass. There’s no way you could pretend to have slept through it. He’ll be humiliated. And things will never be the same again.

You gasp again when Kento thrusts against you harder this time. The bulge in his pants literally pulsing and radiating a moist heat. Your body screams at you to press harder against him, aching for friction. But your mind screams at you not to move a muscle. You are so frustrated in so many different ways that you sigh out a high-pitched moan. He seems to hear it in his unconscious state.

Kento groans. It feels strange to not say anything back, but you have to be quiet. Every contact point between your body and his feels like an explosion of desire and tension. Your shirt has ridden up your waist, revealing a small sliver of skin. His fingers find it and dig into the softness of your belly, seeming to try to pull you even closer. Your own fingers yearn to move as well, to travel down your tummy and under the hem of your pajama pants.

No. Do not go there.

Kento’s ministrations seem to intensify. His breaths become shallow and rapid, a low moan on nearly every exhale. His hips thrust deeper and longer. You have absolutely no idea what to do. As much as your body betrays you, your mind is on high alert. What’s going to happen when Kento finally wakes himself up from this wet dream, his crotch inevitably sticky?

It can’t happen. You have to wake him up.

Kento buries his face in the nook between your neck and your shoulder. A shuddering moan comes from his throat. You need to wake him up now. You pinch the skin of his forearm – hard.

Kento gasps a huge intake of air, his body jolting awake. You lie motionless and close your eyes, feigning sleep. He props himself up to a sitting position, panting. The sudden loss of body heat, replaced by a rush of cool air against your sweaty skin, is jarring and miserable.

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses between gasps. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s uncomfortably, undeniably aroused.

As are you.

You continue to breathe in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Kento spends a few minutes trying to calm his heaving pants, as you try to ignore the pulsing ache in your core. Slowly, as to keep from waking you, Kento rolls out of bed and crosses to the door. It creaks open, and then closed.

And then you’re alone.

[literatureloverx]

Chocolate Pudding

F Y O D O R D O S T O E V S K Y

Mdni, Fyodor x ideal type fem!reader, yandere behaviour, misogyny,N*FW moments, Fyodor is TOO hungry for his own good etc. Not proof read that means some parts might be cringe.

It is kind of a continuation of FIRST NIGHT and AFTERCARE WITH FYODOR

So, you and Fyodor are at the very end of your honeymoon and for the first time, completely alone in your shared mansion.

Enjoy.

Chocolate Pudding

“Are you hungry, my love? We haven’t had breakfast yet?” you ask innocently, glancing at the expensive clock on the bathroom wall. The water in the bathtub is still warm. It’s already 14:30.

Fyodor hums thoughtfully, following your gaze to the clock. Realizing you haven’t eaten yet, he lets out a quiet huff, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he turns his gaze back to you.

“It seems I forgot all about breakfast. I suppose I am quite hungry after all.”

“Of course you would forget. You were too busy…”

He tightens his grip around you, holding you more firmly against his chest as you speak, a hint of concern in his deep voice.

“…you were busy ravaging me. I literally forgot what day it was after that.”

He can’t help but laugh at your words, finding your statement so accurate it’s almost humorous. His fingers gently caress your waist and lower back as he responds, his deep voice laced with amused affection.

“I suppose I was, my love. I didn’t exactly give you time to think of anything else, did I?”

“I don’t even remember when I passed out.”

He hums in response, his smirk widening into a smile as he remembers you passing out. His eyes roam over your face, the memory of pleasuring you and watching you lose consciousness bringing him satisfaction.

“I believe it was when I kept you up against the wall, darling. It was quite a sight, seeing you pass out in such ecstasy.”

You pout. “I don’t remember the end of it, though…”

He laughs again, finding your little pout adorable. His smirk widens as he holds you firmly against him.

“Well, that’s because you passed out before the main event, darling.”

Oh. You blush.

“O-okay… I don’t need details.”

He huffs out another soft laugh at your reaction, charmed by your blush and shyness. He moves his head forward, gently kissing your forehead.

“No, I don’t suppose you do. But suffice it to say, I had quite a lovely time, and I made sure you did too, my love.”

“I believe you,” you say cutely. “Shall I stand up? The water is getting cold.”

He hums in response, his hold on you loosening. He gently caresses your skin as you stand up from his lap.

“Sure, you may stand, darling. Be careful.”

He watches you closely to make sure you don’t fall.

Your legs are a little wobbly, but you manage to stand just fine. He nods approvingly, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction as he observes you holding yourself up despite your wobbly legs.

“It seems the time we spent together earlier has had quite an effect on you, my love.”

“I believe warm water was just what I needed…” you say cutely while putting on your bathrobe.

He watches you as you don your bathrobe, his eyes lingering on the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders, still slightly marked by the love bites he gave you. He hums in response, his gaze fixated on you.

“Surely it was, my love. And now I will finally get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Oh, the slight, almost vicious mocking in his tone. You love every bit of it.

“What shall I make for my wonderful husband?” you ask, brushing your still-wet hair and gazing into the large bathroom mirror.

He hums in contemplation, watching you brush your hair through the reflection. He smirks as you ask what he would like to eat, remembering that you would prepare anything he desires. His sweet, soft wife.

“You’re such a wonderful wife, my sweet.”

He slowly stands up from the tub to stabilize his blood pressure, wrapping a towel around his hips and fixing his gaze on you through the mirror.

“I’m in the mood for pasta, darling.”

“Sounds delicious. I’ll prepare it immediately for us, my love,” you sing softly.

Fyodor huffs out another quiet laugh at your cute way of speaking, finding it endearing. He walks up to stand behind you, his hands gently resting on your hips as he speaks, his deep voice low in your ear, dripping with a certain possessiveness.

"Thank you, my love. But make sure to put on clothes, darling, before going into the kitchen."

Oh, the tease he is—so mocking but so irresistibly, sweetly flustering.

You pout. "Of course I will. We wouldn't want you to bend me over the table now, would we?"

He huffs out another laugh, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he pulls you closer against him, his hands holding your hips firmly as he presses an affectionate kiss to the side of your neck. He lets out a soft hum against your skin as he replies, his deep voice again dripping with possessiveness.

"Don't believe l'd have any objections to that either, darling."

You giggle, kissing his cheek and heading towards the bedroom to find something to wear.

He watches you as you walk towards the bedroom, his eyes roaming over your body and taking in the sight of your skin still marked and bruised by his love bites. He huffs out an amused chuckle at the sight and speaks, his deep, soft voice sounding amused.

"No need to bother putting too much on, dear. You look good without clothes too."

"Fyodor!" you shriek and giggle, blushing as you run off to the dressing room.

He chuckles again at your shriek and blushing cheeks, knowing you're not actually mad but rather shy about being naked, even though he's already seen everything.

You sing a soft melody as you choose something comfortable to wear. You find an elegant soft pink summer dress and decide to wear it.

He watches you through the open door of the dressing room, his gaze fixed on the pink dress you pick out. A subtle sense of possessiveness washes over him as he observes how pretty you look in it.

"Such a pretty little dress, my love. You look absolutely stunning, darling."

"You like the color on me, my love?" you ask softly, drying your hair and deciding to wear it open.

He hums in response, his gaze roaming over you now that you're all put together in the pink summer dress.

"Yes, I do indeed like it, my love. You look absolutely lovely. I quite like the sight of you in pastel pink."

You giggle, spraying a little cherry perfume on yourself and applying pink lip gloss.

He stands in the doorway of the dressing room, leaning against the frame as he watches you prepare yourself. The sweet scent of cherry fills the room, and your pink lip gloss makes your lips look luscious and delectable to him.

He lets out another deep hum, a smirk on his lips as he gazes at you, his voice dripping with desire and possessiveness.

"You smell good enough to eat, my love."

"Well, I'm happy that I don't smell like pasta then." you reply.

He huffs out another soft laugh, enjoying your witty remark. His smirk widens slightly as he replies, his voice still filled with desire.

"No, my love. You don't smell like pasta, but quite a lovely bit like cherries. I do like the fragrance, though I wonder if your sweet lips taste like cherries as well, darling."

"You can find out.." you giggle.

"Would you like me to make dessert too?"

His smirk widens at the thought of tasting your sweet lips again, already feeling his heart throb in excitement.

"Darling, l'd rather have you as my dessert."

"How witty of you, as always," you giggle with faux amazement. "How about chocolate pudding?"

He lets out another hearty laugh at your comment, his smirk widening as he gazes down at you.

You giggle. "Chocolate pudding with cherries on top?"

He chuckles deeply, enjoying your giggles and witty remarks.

He hums in agreement, lifting his hand to gently trace the soft skin of your lips with his thumb. His voice is low and deep as he replies.

"I suppose that would make a delicious combination, indeed, my love."

"Then I should head to the kitchen to make us those foods, my love," you say, kissing him briefly.

He lets out a deep hum in response, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his before they pull away too soon for his liking.

You smile cutely, turning around and leaving the dressing room. The sound of your bare feet can be heard as you walk down the stairs.

He hums, watching you leave, his eyes trained on your bare feet and legs. He smiles, appreciating how pretty you look in the summer dress, the color enhancing your beauty and the fact that you aren't wearing underwear adding to his possessiveness. His mind imagines what it will be like to indulge in you later on.

"Mmm...Tease."

You hum a melody as you walk through the grandiose mansion towards the kitchen. Everything is huge, so it takes some time to get from the bedroom to the kitchen.

He chuckles to himself, realizing how long it actually takes to traverse the enormous house.

"I'm coming down. How long are you going to take, моя любовь?"

His voice can barely be heard.

"I'm waiting!"

He huffs out another soft laugh, enjoying your cute enthusiasm. He quickly runs a hand through his hair to make sure it looks presentable before heading down the grand staircase to join you in the kitchen.

"Coming, my love."

"Fedya~ everything one could need is here! It's amazing! It's like we own a market!" you sing cutely, your voice the only thing heard.

He reaches the kitchen and smiles at its sheer size. His gaze falls on your lovely figure by one of the worktops. He huffs out a soft chuckle, replying with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Don't you dare cook the entire kitchen now, darling."

You pout. "I'm a good cook! You know that..."

He smiles wider at your pout, finding it adorable. He hums in agreement before replying, a touch of humor in his deep voice.

"I know that, my love. I wasn't referring to your cooking skills. I was more worried you'll attempt to cook the entire kitchen, given its ridiculous size."

You pout cutely. "I'll cook in every corner."

He huffs out another soft laugh, finding your pouting and stubbornness endearing. His smirk widens as he saunters up to you, his tone playful.

"My, my, aren't you cheeky? Careful now. You wouldn't want to tease me too much, love."

"I knew you would threaten me this way..." you giggle, starting to prepare the pasta.

He chuckles deeply at your comment, enjoying your giggle and playful response. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

His lips brush your ear as he speaks, his voice playful yet holding a hint of something dark and possessive.

"I wonder what I should do with a cheeky little tease like you, my love."

"Kiss and praise me because I'm so pretty and eager to please my husband with my cooking?"

He huffs out another deep chuckle at your cocky yet cute reply. His lips gently press against your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, leaving another love bite before he replies, his voice deep and possessive.

"Touché."

——————

You're cooking the pasta and preparing the pudding in the meantime.

Fyodor watches you working at the worktops, his deep amethyst eyes roaming over your figure, his smirk widening in appreciation.

"Goodness, you are lovely while cooking, my love. My little wife, hard at work to please your dear old husband."

"Old?" you giggle. "Just a few hundred years... it's not that much, my love."

He huffs out a deep laugh at your remark, finding your sassy little retorts both cute and endearing, yet incredibly hot and arousing. He suddenly grips your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, his smirk widening at the sight of your flushed cheeks and the redness of your ears.

"My cheeky little woman... I might just have to punish you for those little remarks of yours."

"Baby, I'm cooking!"

He huffs out another deep chuckle at your comment, the pout of your lips making the urge to punish you rise even more. Nevertheless, he reluctantly lets go of your chin but keeps his arm wrapped around your waist.

He hums as he replies, his deep voice still thick with possessiveness.

"I know, my love. I'll let you continue cooking just this once."

"You're a man with many interests. It's uncommon for you to cling to me like that..."

His smirk widens further, his amethyst eyes studying your every feature. He continues speaking, his deep, smooth voice still possessing that hint of possessiveness, his arm now holding you tight around the waist.

A soft, gentle slap is placed upon your buttocks, making you gasp softly.

"True, I'm a man with many interests, my love. But I cannot deny that I take great joy in clinging to you, my heart. You are my dearest possession, darling.."

You gulp. He is so…particular at this very moment. You wonder why.

"I miss you playing the cello... would you play it sometime for me?"

He pauses at your words, slightly surprised by the sudden change in topic, but soon hums in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his deep voice gentle and soft.

"Of course, my love. I shall play it for you again. Is there a certain song you wish to hear?"

"La leçon particulière..."

He lets out a low chuckle at your response, realizing you chose a rather raunchy piece to request. He hums in response, once again agreeing to your request.

"Sure, my love. I shall play it for you. However, this particular piece does not quite fit my good little wife. It is rather... erotic, darling."

You smile. "But it is one of my favorites..."

He knows. But it is far more entertaining to tease you about the things he already knows.

He hums once more, a deep chuckle leaving his lips. Your taste in music is indeed quite interesting, considering you are such a sweet and innocent little thing. It mirrors your personality very well.

Nevertheless, he agrees to your request, his smirk widening ever so slowly, his deep voice now holding an even more pronounced element of possessiveness, his words almost sultry.

"My little wife, with her rather questionable taste in music. I shall play this piece in the evening for you, but I expect payment for it, my love."

"With kisses?"

He huffs out another deep chuckle at your reply, finding your eagerness and naivete highly adorable, once again feeling the urge to just throw you onto the nearest table and claim you completely. Nevertheless, he gives in, replying in a sultry tone with a wide smirk.

"Indeed, my love, with kisses. And I expect a rather generous payment..."

You giggle. "Of course."

He huffs out a deep chuckle, enjoying the adorable sound of your giggles. He then suddenly pulls your body flush against his, his lips against your ear, speaking in a low, thick, and sultry voice, his words a mere breath of air against your ear.

"You better not disappoint me, my love. I might need more than just kisses, given my long time of absence, my dear."

"Of course, my love." You kiss his jaw softly, placing their pasta on the plates. "By the way, I haven't heard anything about Nikolai lately. Did you hear anything about him?"

He hums in approval and pleasure at your soft kisses, his deep voice still thick with possessiveness. His expression darkens slightly at your question, and he huffs out a low sound, clearly finding Nikolai and his whereabouts uninteresting.

"I haven't heard anything from him lately. Good riddance, if you ask me, darling."

You chuckle at his bluntness. "Well... I wasn't expecting that."

He huffs out another deep chuckle, finding your cute reaction endearing.

“...but Ivan is still working for you, right?" you sing cutely, pouring cherry juice into their glasses.

He huffs out a deep chuckle at your singing, finding your voice highly endearing. He replies, his words now a bit more serious.

"Yes, Ivan is still working for me. Why do you ask?"

"You specifically hired him for tea making because he is so good at it, so I'm a little nervous about making your tea from now on, every day."

You place your plates and glasses on the table.

He huffs out a deep laugh at your suddenly concerned pout, finding you once again adorable. He replies, his smile widening.

"My little wife. My little worrywart. Trust me, it's impossible for you to mess up making tea." He suddenly pulls a chair back for you, gently gesturing for you to sit down.

You smile, thanking him. "I hope so... l'd like to make you very, very happy."

He hums, a wide smile spreading over his lips at your words. Your cute eagerness to please him in any way possible makes his possessive urges increase before he replies, his deep voice thick with possessiveness and adoration, with a hint of something darker underneath.

"My sweet darling, you are doing a splendid job of making me very, very happy."

"Shall I entertain my wonderful husband with some thoughts on a movie I watched just before our wedding?" you say cutely, starting to taste your cooking. "Is the pasta to your liking?"

He hums in approval at your question, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, finding your words and behavior so innocently adorable and endearing again. He lifts his own pasta to his mouth, taking a bite, and hums in approval, his taste buds dancing at the flavor.

"My, my... Very well done, darling. It's delicious. Do tell me your thoughts about the movie, my love."

"I recently watched the movie The Age of Adaline. Have you ever heard of it?" It's obvious that he hasn't, because he really doesn't watch movies.

He hums in thought as he chews, swallowing his bite of pasta before replying, his words coming out a bit delayed due to him having to chew and swallow first. He shakes his head in negation at your question.

"I have not, darling. What is it about?"

"About a woman who can't age. I found the first 20 minutes of the movie to be brilliant. I was so invested in the thought of what someone who can't age and therefore not die a natural death would feel and think. She had a husband, who died a tragic death. They had a daughter together."

He hums again, finding the subject of such a movie interesting. Simply because you’re the one telling about it.

His amethyst eyes roam over your face, studying your thoughtful expression about this subject. It makes him curious about your personal thoughts on the matter.

He loves to hear you talk. You sound so sweet, like some kind of a fairytale character.

"How does she feel and think, in your opinion? I take it she feels very lonely to live on as she does."

"That is exactly what I thought, and my expectations for the movie were very high. I was so ready to explore her inner world but then.." you drink. "Well, they literally messed it up. With a petty romance that didn't make any sense in the first place."

He huffs at your words, agreeing with your opinion. After all, he was a rational man with more than just a distaste for sentiment in general.

Nevertheless, he hums, replying, his deep voice getting a slightly dark, possessive tone again.

"I could see this disappointing you, darling. I would also dislike it when movies promise certain things and then fail to deliver."

Your eyes widen cutely, delivering your thoughts fiercely. "I was expecting so much more! She had a daughter who reached an age where she barely could walk down the stairs, and she couldn't age! She was always on the run, never truly able to make friends or any meaningful connection..."

He hums, finding your fierce side a highly arousing sight to witness, and he can't help but grip your thigh from under the table. He replies, his eyes now roaming over your face, admiring your expression.

"Such a scenario would be incredibly lonely, darling. I admire your ability to imagine such a situation so vividly."

This means so much to him. The way you were searching for him in that movie. Other ways to understand him, feel his inner turmoil, be there for him. As if you weren’t already mastering it with bravura.

"The first 20 minutes were truly brilliant..." you huff. "I could feel all the agony and stress of her situation, but then they had to drop a 30-year-old male lead into the movie, possibly more than half her age, and play out that 'young love' vibe as if saying that one can always start over. It cheapened her character so much, it was unbearable. Wasted potentials are almost hurting me physically, you know, my love?"

He huffs out another deep chuckle at your words, your annoyed and frustrated expression endearing to him. Once again, he tightens his grip on your thigh, his smirk widening, the possessive tone in his voice now more than obvious, his amethyst eyes locked with your brown ones.

"I can see that, my love. Your passionate response to such wasted potential is... arousing, to say the least."

You giggle, pouting playfully, your gaze fixed on your own plate. "The way she flirted with him was too modern. A woman in her age would struggle to flirt with a modern age man. Also, she was a weird mix of very introverted and very extroverted, as if she was holding herself back. She was such a feminist it didn't make any sense. A woman born in 1908 could be so much more misogynistic."

He huffs out yet another deep chuckle at your observation, finding your assessment correct, and his hand on your thigh slowly starts to slide higher, before suddenly squeezing your inner thigh, his smirk widening slightly, his eyes darkening just a bit, his voice still thick with possessiveness.

"You're absolutely correct, darling. However, I have to say, I love seeing you so annoyed over such details."

"The most annoying part was the male lead. He gave me chills."

He huffs again, his smirk widening at your irritation, his hand now moving up further, his touch just barely teasing the edge of your dress.

"What was so annoying about him, my love?"

"He was just... cringe?" you say innocently.

He huffs out another deep laugh, finding the innocence with which you say the word 'cringe' endearing to him, before he replies, his voice holding a hint of possessiveness again, his smirk widening.

"Can you elaborate, darling? What was so cringe about him?"

"I was sure that he would start to bark at some point. He was like a teenager stuck in a 30-year-old's body."

He huffs again, amused by your description, and he squeezes your thigh a bit more firmly, his amethyst eyes roaming over your face, his hand now slowly pushing up higher along your inner thigh.

"Mmm... You're right, dear. His behavior and actions are indeed quite cringe."

You gasp softly. "I never imagined you would say that."

He huffs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches your gasp, and he slowly starts to apply more pressure to your inner thigh, his smirk widening before replying, his eyes taking on a darker tone.

"Ah, really? Why is that, my love?"

"Cringe is such a petite word for you," you say softly, sipping.

He huffs, a dark smile now spreading over his lips, your words and tone stirring something in him. As you sip from your beverage, he suddenly moves his hand a bit higher, his touch now definitely pushing under your dress, his voice getting a low, possessive tone.

"It is, yes. A word one wouldn't associate with me. But watching you get worked up over this is quite endearing."

"You didn't finish your pasta... I worked so hard for this," you pout cutely.

He huffs out another deep chuckle at your pout, finding you adorable for the billionth time. Nevertheless, his hand keeps on slowly pushing up further, as his eyes roam over your face, a smug smile on his lips.

"indeed, you did, my love. That is why you are such a well-trained little wife, aren't you? I must praise you for that."

You blush softly at the sweet praise.

"If you don't finish your pasta, I can't serve you the pudding, my love."

He huffs, taking in your expression, before eventually giving in, his smug smile widening.

"All right, all right, my love. Since you worked so hard on it, I'll finish it."

"Thank you," you say, kissing him on the cheek.

He huffs, letting out a deep chuckle at your kiss, finding your touch and words endearing.

Nevertheless, he gently takes hold of your chin with his free hand, and suddenly pushes your head gently back, before pressing his lips firmly on top of yours, his movement and touch almost too forceful and possessive, as if he would want to claim your body once more, right here and then, at the dining table.

"Mh~"

He huffs, his lips moving against yours, his possessiveness getting the better of him, he pushes his tongue between your lips, claiming your mouth in the most dominating of ways. His free hand slowly starts to roam a bit higher up your inner thigh, now definitely moving up under the hem of your dress, his touch demanding and firm.

"F-Fyodor! Your food..."

He hums, feeling your gasp at his action, and he finally pulls away, his eyes dark, almost feral, and he huffs before replying, a smug smile on his face, his voice thick with possessiven-ess. "Food can wait, my love."

"I will be very unhappy if you don't eat up," you pout. "You're anemic. You should eat well."

He hums, finding your pouting too adorable, and he presses another kiss on your pout, his smirk widening, his hand still slowly roaming higher under your dress, now brushing teasingly against your panties, his eyes glimmering with mischief, the possessive tone of his voice a bit more dark and commanding than before.

"I should. But you're a distraction, my love. Quite a big distraction."

"S-shall I sit over there?"

He hums, his touch finally brushing against your core, his smirk widening, his eyes glittering at your words, clearly amused by the way you're already getting worked up from his touch alone, and his words come out in a low, possessive tone.

"No. No, you won't. I want you by my side."

With your fingers shaking, you gently put the cherry on top of his chocolate pudding as he brushes against your core with his slim fingers.

"Mhhh~"

He hums again, a dark smile spreading over his lips at your reaction, your shaking fingers only increasing his possessiveness, and he slowly starts to rub his fingertips against your core, his touch firm, demanding a reaction from you again.

"My, my... Already getting excited, are you, darling?"

"O-only if you eat your pudding too.." you say, an idea forming but unsure if it's a good one. Too shy to ask.

He hums, his eyes watching you as he slowly pushes against your sensitive spot, making you whimper again, before he replies, his voice getting a darker, more demanding tone for a moment.

"Fine then... Anything for my little wife... Just for you, I'll eat the pudding, darling."

"Thank you," you say with a shaking voice.

He hums again, letting out a deep, possessive chuckle at your shaking voice, his fingertips still slowly rubbing against your core, enjoying the way you whimper and gasp at his touch.

"You're welcome, мышка."

"S-shall I... mhh..."

He huffs, noticing your tone change and the way you hesitate, the smirk on his face getting darker and more possessive.

"What is it, darling? Use your words, love. I can't read your mind..."

Liar. That is a lie.

"I... I once read about something called.."

He huffs, his fingers working against your core still, slowly rubbing and circling the sensitive area, his eyes locked on your face, dark and observant, watching your every expression. His hand under the table tightens on your thigh again, holding you firmly in place almost.

"Continue, love. That is a good girl, use your words. I am listening."

"Cockwarming...?"

He hums at your word, once again a dark grin spread over his lips, and immediately, he stops his fingers, his touch pulling away a bit, before he replies, his voice once more taking that possessive tone, almost too demanding.

"Hm…Cockwarming? What a wonderfully filthy little thing my wifey is... Thinking about such lewd, naughty things..."

You blush deeply. "l... I just thought you might like it while eating your p-pudding..."

He huffs, loving the way your blush spreads over your face, his eyes dark and hungry as they roam over you, his smirk widening, and he tightens his touch on your thigh, his voice getting a darker tone again.

"That does sound like a wonderful thought, darling... Why don't you be a good little wife and do it then?"

[supercorpkid]

Lovebug

Supergirl, Kara Danvers x Reader. Alex Danvers.

Word Count: 2830

Notes: @supercorpenthusiastic here's the scene you've asked for! Hope this makes it justice.

Recently, Kara has been complaining more than she has in years. It’s never direct—it simmers just beneath the surface, a quiet frustration that colors every sigh, every furrowed brow, and the way her lips press into a thin line when she thinks no one’s watching. And yet, the meaning is clear, always the same: We should live normal lives.

And honestly, you’ve been thinking it too. You could walk away from all of this—the chaos, the danger—back to the life you once knew. You were never exactly ordinary, but before you joined the Superfriends, there were fewer fires to put out, and your life wasn’t hanging on a thread every other week.

But here, now, as you scam around the med bay, you realize why you stay despite the cost. These people, this team, they’ve become your family. They fight for you, and today, they are fighting to keep you alive.

“Kara, I need you at the Tower.” Alex’s voice is sharp through the comm, a lifeline in the haze of your fading consciousness.

“Alex, can’t someone else do it? I'm working.” Her voice cracks through the static, and your body, though heavy with exhaustion, stirs instinctively at the sound of her.

“It’s Y/N. She’s hurt. Badly.”

Everything goes black before you can process it. The last things you’re aware of are Supergirl’s crest, a hand stroking through your hair, and her voice—shaky, almost breaking—whispering, “It’s okay, bug. I’m here now.”

When you wake, it’s to the familiar sound of Kara’s voice, though your body still feels battered, bruised beyond recognition. But there’s a comfort—her fingers in your hair, tracing slow, gentle lines against your scalp, as if she’s afraid to stop.

“I’m so tired, Alex,” Kara’s voice is low, tinged with a weariness you’ve never heard before. It breaks your heart to know you’re the cause of it. “I’m tired of the stakes always being this high.”

“She’s got superpowers, Kara. She’ll be fine.” Alex’s tone is steady, reassuring.

“Easy for you to say.”

“It is easy for me to say. I’m the doctor here.” Alex quips, and if you had any strength, you'd laugh. “Look,” Alex continues, “I know you care about her, but even if you tried, I don’t think you could stop her from fighting.”

You're not sure about that, though. You think there's a lot Kara can do to make you stop fighting. You’ve been lying still, barely breathing, but you force your eyes open to see Kara’s tear-filled gaze. She’s so close, her face etched with worry and something else—something deeper, rawer. Love? You wonder.

“Hey,” you croak, your voice raspy, “I’m okay. I promise.”

“You’re not okay,” she insists, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You can’t help but wish she had the courage to kiss your lips instead. “I’ve never seen so many shades of purple on one face.”

“Well,” you manage a weak smile, “it is my favorite color.”

“Don’t joke,” she says, voice trembling. Her hands cup your face, and for a moment, it feels like she’s holding you together with sheer will. “Not about this.”

You give her a soft pout and add in an even softer tone, "but you love when I'm funny."

Kara’s lips almost break into a smile, but she holds it in, though her face betrays her. It’s painted with adoration. "I love it a lot more when you're not making jokes about you almost dying."

"She’s not—you’re not almost dying," Alex reassures, squeezing your hand. "You just need a couple of weeks to brush it off. You’ll be fine."

“Can I go home?” you ask, though what you really mean is whether you can get out of this sterile place that feels like an echo of all your pain.

“Sure,” Alex begins, but Kara cuts in sharply, her voice like steel.

“No.” She looks at you with a fierce determination that makes your breath catch. “You’re not going to be alone. You’re coming to my place. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re about to protest, to insist you’ll be fine, but the truth is, the idea of Kara fussing over you, taking care of you—it’s everything you want. You say nothing, letting her words wash over you like a promise you didn’t know you needed.

Kara picks you up gently, as though you’re made of glass—delicate and precious, yet somehow the most important person in her universe. As she carries you out, you can feel the tension in her body, the struggle to keep herself together.

You nestle into her arms, getting so comfortable it’s hard to imagine you belong anywhere else. She flies slowly, but even so, you're at her place in no time. She’s ready to settle you on the couch, but you make a disgruntled sound, stopping her mid-motion.

"Okay, okay," she says, sitting down first, allowing you to make yourself comfortable in her lap. "You’re feeling okay, bug?"

"I am now."

Honestly, the beating you took was brutal, but as you lie here, curled up on Kara's lap, her large hands gently stroking your back, you almost think it was worth it.

Kara takes care of everything—food, bandage changes, the works. She orders your favorite fried rice, even though it’s not from Chang’s. Taylor Swift songs fill the room, playing on a soft loop all day. And when you complain about one particularly bad bruise, she uses her cold breath to soothe it and follows up with a kiss to make it better.

At night, the two of you nearly argue. She insists on giving you her bed, while you argue the couch is just fine. So, to resolve it, she simply picks you up and lays you down on her bed, tucking you in so tightly you can barely move.

“Okay,” you laugh as she continues pressing the comforter’s edges under you. “I’m not going anywhere! You can stop now!”

"I need to make sure you’re comfortable," she teases, feigning seriousness. 

You roll your eyes. "Well, in that case, I can't breathe."

She undoes her work in an instant, her concern replacing the playful tone. Once satisfied with your comfort, she leans down for a soft forehead kiss. “Goodnight, bug.”

"Wait," you hold onto her hand before she can move away. "Stay."

Kara’s brows furrow in confusion. She looks ethereal in the soft light filtering in from the street outside. You can’t help but think of how beautiful she looks, even with her worry etched into her features.

“There’s enough space for both of us. Stay…in case I need help during the night.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. She’s Supergirl. Has super hearing, super speed—and her couch is only ten feet away. But still, she stays.

After you're both settled in her bed, the two of you lie there in silence for a few minutes. You feel her shift next to you, her breath steady but laced with something unsaid.

"Hey," you whisper, breaking the stillness. She could be asleep, but you know better. "Why do you call me ‘bug’? I never really understood it."

“Oh,” she shifts slightly, her voice soft and hesitant. “It’s from a song I heard once. It reminded me of you.”

“Oh really?" You turn to face her, catching her gaze. Her blue eyes, now inches away, glisten with something vulnerable. "Which one?"

"You know, it’s been years. I don’t really remember it very well," she murmurs, her voice growing quieter.

You furrow your brows, not buying it. It’s dark in her room, but the moonlight coming in lets you see the faint blush rising in her cheeks.

"Tell me," you whisper, giving her your best soft pout—the one she finds hard to resist. "Please?"

Kara swallows hard before finally whispering, “I think it’s called ‘Lovebug.’”

“Cool.” You reach for your phone on the nightstand, never breaking eye contact. It doesn’t take long to find the song and hit play.

"Called you for the first time yesterday, finally found the missing part of me..."

Her breath hitches, caught in her throat as the first verse plays. She blinks at you. Even though her mouth says nothing, her eyes are screaming at you—this is too much. It says too much. It confesses to more than she was willing to. It admits it all.

"Now I’m speechless, over the edge, I’m just breathless. I never thought that I’d catch this lovebug again..."

Oh. Lovebug, you see.

"I can’t get your smile out of my mind. I think about your eyes all the time. You’re beautiful, but you don’t even try."

She mouths it. Every word. Her eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering, as if she’s caught in some dreamlike trance.

"Hm." You stop the song right after the line, kissed her for the first time yesterday, everything I wished it would be. You give her a soft smile. “Guess that part was a lie, huh?"

"For now." Her voice, barely a whisper, sends your heart into a wild frenzy.

For now.

The following days are a blend of recovery and tranquil moments with Kara, but the peaceful routine is short-lived. As always. It was almost too normal to feel true.

The next mission yanks you both back into the whirlwind, and soon, despite your injuries, you're itching to join them.

"I can fight!" you insist, though you can't barely stand up on your own yet.

"The hell you can!" Kara snaps.

"Don't you dare treat me like I’m incapable."

"I wouldn’t dare," she retorts, sounding especially daring.

You give one step forward, so you can touch her face and speak softly, "Kara, baby, these are just bruises."

She doesn’t budge, not even a fraction. Her face remains set in a steel expression. "The only way you’re going into this fight is over my dead body," she declares, her arms crossed and biceps flexed with her strength. You hold your breath, struggling to mask your reaction to how hot she looks like this.

"Okay, okay. At least take me to the Tower. I’ll give technical support."

"Alright, but if you so much as step foot in that fight scene, I swear to Rao, we’re gonna have a serious problem!" And you definitely wouldn’t want that.

You monitor the chaos from the Tower’s screens, since that's all you're allowed to do. You switch to a private channel to Kara. “Kara, there’s a situation two blocks away too. Can you check it out when you’re done there?”

"UGH!" Kara groans, her frustration obvious. “Honestly, I can’t deal with this anymore.”

"Okay, I'll ask M'gann."

"That’s not what I meant!" she huffs, her voice tight with emotion. "I meant, no more fighting!"

"What do you want to do instead? Sit down and calmly talk to the villains?"

"You wanna know what I want to do? If it were up to me, we’d get married, you’d move into my apartment…”

Your eyes widen as she continues, her words raw and unfiltered.

“We’d have a couple of kids.” She keeps talking, and you switch cameras to keep track of her as she flies to the new location you’ve directed her to. “We could buy a house in the suburbs!”

She sends a villain flying with a powerful kick, her fury almost palpable through the screen. You’re so stunned by her revelation that you can’t even bring yourself to speak.

“We’d adopt a dog, name him Rex, and a cat, name him Streaky! The kids would have a normal childhood.”

You watch as she flings another villain into a building. Kara’s voice is still untethered to the battle, yet her emotions towards you are clear.

"But NOOOOO! We have to be just superheroes!"

"Kara, what the hell!" Alex’s voice blasts through your comm, and you freeze, realizing you’ve accidentally left the channel open. "Do you really think this is the right time to declare your love?"

"I don’t know," she replies, her voice quivering. "We might be running out of it."

The Tower is quiet now, too quiet, and the only sound left is the faint hum of Brainy’s weird tech that keeps it running. But it’s not what you’re focused on—it’s the words Kara said over the comms that you can’t shake. Marriage, kids, a house in the suburbs. 

You’ve seen her angry, you’ve seen her scared, but you’ve never heard her say anything like that. And now, with the mission over, all you can think about is what you’re going to do when you have to face her.

When she lands on the balcony of the Tower, there’s still a slight spark of tension in the air. She steps inside, brushing the dust off her suit, but her gaze finds yours almost immediately. She looks apprehensive and scared, eyes wet as if she’s about to cry.

Everyone else is still on their way here. Supergirl sure is faster, but you know your friends well enough to know they are trying to give you both space after her admission through the comms.

“Kara,” you begin softly, trying to gauge where her head is at. "About what you said—"

"I didn't mean to say it like that, sorry—" she starts, but you cut her off, needing to know.

"Do you really want all that? A normal life? With me?"

She pauses, her eyes meeting yours. You can see the exhaustion in her face, the weight of all the battles fought, the near-misses, and the moments when she thought she might lose you. “I’m just tired, bug,” she admits, voice trembling slightly. “Tired of living every day like it’s a life or death situation. Tired of watching people I love get hurt.”

You step toward her, your hand reaching for hers, and she clings to it like a lifeline. “I know. I get it, Kara. But you’re Supergirl. You can’t just walk away from this.”

“I’m not saying I want to walk away.” She sighs, pulling you closer. “But there’s a part of me that wants… more. Something simpler. A life where we don’t have to worry if the next mission will be our last. One where I won't ever see you like this.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence stretches out, but it’s not uncomfortable. You know exactly what she means, and part of you wants that, too. But you’ve been doing this long enough to know it’s not that simple.

"Maybe we can’t have a perfectly normal life,” you say slowly, watching her reaction, “but we can figure this out. Take some time, find a balance.”

She looks at you, her eyes full of a mix of hope and doubt. “How? How do we do that when the world needs saving every other day?”

You smile softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We do it by being together. We take breaks. We build a life between the chaos. Maybe that house in the suburbs won't happen tomorrow, but it can happen someday.”

Kara lets out a small, shaky laugh. “You really think we can do that?”

“I know we can,” you say, leaning in just enough that your forehead touches hers. “Because at the end of the day, I don’t care where we are or what we’re doing. I just want to be with you.”

Her breath catches, and for a second, the world narrows to just the two of you. You can feel her heart pounding through your joined hands, the slight tremble in her fingers.

And then, finally, after what feels like an eternity of almost-kisses and unspoken confessions, Kara closes the distance between you. Her lips meet yours in a kiss that’s soft, tentative, but full of all the things she’s never said. And it does, it says it all. It tells you that marriage and kids and a future together it’s going to happen, because there’s absolutely nothing better than her lips on yours, you’re sure.

When you pull back, she’s smiling in that shy way she does when she’s let her guard down completely. “Maybe we could take a vacation. Start there.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, your heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time. “A vacation sounds good.”

The two of you are back at her apartment later that night, curled up on her couch, the city’s lights spilling into the room. The TV is on, but neither of you are paying attention. Instead, you’re watching the stars outside the window, your fingers intertwined with hers.

“You know, bug,” she whispers, turning her head to look at you, “maybe we can’t have it all, but we will always have each other.”

You smile, squeezing her hand. “And that’s more than enough for me.”

Kara leans her head on your shoulder, a content sigh escaping her lips. In that moment, with the world outside quiet for just a little while, you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—by her side, ready to face whatever comes next. Caught by the lovebug again.

[the-sound-of-her-wings]

hi! can i please request a kaz brekker x reader fic based off of episode 5 of season 2 (despise your heart)? when kaz panics in the market reader finds him and takes him somehwere safe and gives him his gloves, and in that moment kaz kinda of realizes how he feels about the reader. and then the poison fog the reader hallucinates about kaz and him finally making physical contact and giving her love and she thinks it’s real until someone shoves the antidote in her mouth, once she regains consciousness she rushes over to help kaz and kaz sees her pulling him out of the water and the readers just sitting there holding his face and anything else you wanna add !

if it’s a little complicated i understand, thank you have a great day :))

You were always in plain sight

❀ Word Count: 2,145 ❀ CW: Panic Attack, Discussions of Trauma, Pining, Admissions ❀ A/N: Added a few more scenes than requested. I hope you enjoy!

He’s going to panic, you think to yourself. 

In fact, his body was already panicking, even if he wasn’t. Nina is too focused on the target's heart rate to notice, but Kaz’s heart rate has been slowly increasing ever since he took off the gloves.

You watch as the woman they were meeting with gets up, and Kaz goes to follow. Unfortunately, another woman immediately runs into him, spilling tea all over the front of him, and definitely accidentally touching him.

“Give me his gloves,” You whisper to Inej.

She hands them over silently. You put on your own set of gloves, a pair you keep on you in the event something like this happens. 

Nina places her hand on top of Kaz’ and you watch the life drain from his face. And then he’s running.

“You follow the target. I’ve got him.” You say. 

It doesn’t take you long to catch up to him, but by then he’s already completely disassociated and in complete panic. You take him by the arm, leading him to an empty alley, careful only to touch the clothed parts of his arm. Even with your hands in gloves, you are worried any kind of touch to his exposed hands will send him spiraling further. 

He collapses to the ground in an unceremonious heap. 

“You were supposed to follow her,” He says.

“Inej has it covered.” You reply, sitting down on the opposite side of the alley, a decent distance from him.  

There’s a moment of silence before you add, “Someone had to follow you. You can’t be by yourself when your…” And you don’t know how to finish the sentence. Traumatized? Panicking? Having a PTSD flashback to an event you refuse to discuss with anyone? “...like this.” 

It pains you to see him so deep in his own pain, so desperate to keep other people out of it. To keep you out of it. You place his gloves close to him, but far enough away that it doesn’t look like you’re trying to touch him.

He notices your gloves, “When did you-?”

“A while ago. There just in case-” And you cut yourself off with a sigh. In case this happened. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yes? Kaz thinks, but he’s still panicking too much to say anything. In fact, the thought sends him into even more of a panic, because he’s not ever had a thought like that before. 

“I’ll be on the other side of the alley. We’ll regroup once you’ve had a chance to calm down.” You say, leaving him to decompress.

XXXXX

“Nina wants an explanation,” Inej tells you as you watch over Kaz from a distance. He’s finally come out of the worst of it and is now trying to act like nothing happened. It’s a behavior that you simply have never gotten used to, despite years by his side. 

“Then tell her the truth.” You say.

“Which is?” Inej asks. She sometimes thinks you know more than she does, but that’s not really true. You both know exactly the same thing about Kaz- which is that Pekka Rollins killed his brother and that he absolutely cannot stand another person’s touch. 

“He had a panic attack.” You reply. “She’s not going to tell the others, is she?” 

“No. But I think Jesper should know. He hates it when we leave him out of the loop.” Inej states. 

“I think I’m going to try to talk to him this time. See what else is going on.” You say, watching as Kaz sits down, clearly deep in thought. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be happy about that idea.” You say, cleaning the dirt from under your nails.

“He will open up when he’s ready.” Inej tries to reassure you.

“We both know he’d never be that vulnerable.”

“Then why ask?” She asks.

So I know how to fix it. 

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we? The world isn’t going to save itself.” You state, heading towards Kaz and the rest of the group to figure out the plan. Maybe you’ll ask him once all of this over.

XXXXX

“We should talk about what happened in the market.” You say, sitting on his desk. 

“Must we?” Kaz replies, lowering the newspaper he had been reading to meet your gaze.

“Yes.”

He set the paper aside, making his way over to you. He towers over you in a way he’s never done before, closer than he’s ever been. “What do you want to know?” 

“I want to know what happened.” 

“You saw what happened,” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I want to know why, Kaz.” You respond. 

“Why?” He retorts. Is he flirting with you or just trying to get under your skin?

“I want to fix it. Or prevent it or- I don’t know! I just. I never want to see you like that again. I don’t want to see you suffer.” 

“It won’t happen again,” He reassures you, a gloved hand coming up to caress your face. You block it with the back of your forearm.

“Won’t it? Jesper told me what happened when you got thrown in that cart together. I watched as you tried not to panic while helping Inej clean her wounds. Do you think I can’t sense your heart rate when people get too close to you? That I don’t know exactly how your body reacts? Who hurt you so badly that you can’t even be physically near another person without wanting to vomit?” You ramble, letting out all of the questions and feelings you’ve been holding inside for all of these years.

“Pekka Rollins” He replies, the answer he gave you before. It’s always been the answer, and in some ways, it really is the truth. 

“Kaz… I just want you to let me in. You carry so much inside of you that you let nobody see. But I want to see it… I want to understand.” You say, and you want to reach out and hug him but you know he can’t receive that kind of affection. 

But then he does something you aren’t excepting. Slowly, he begins to remove his gloves. He sets them on the fireplace, one by one. One of his ungloved hands traces its way up the side of your neck and rests on your cheek. You gasp at his touch. 

And then you are staring into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls. Like you’ve always seen each other- like you’ve always known. Kaz plays his cards close to his chest, but you don’t. Nina has teased you for it relentlessly.

When he kisses you, you can’t believe this is happening. It’s perfect. These are things he would only do in dreams. These are things he would only say in dreams. These are…

“This is a dream,” Kaz tells you, or rather, the Kaz of your imagination tells you as he ends the kiss.

“I know” You reply, opening your eyes.

You see Inej hunched over you and taste something disgusting in your mouth. 

“We were poisoned. Go to the door- Wylan will give you another antidote.” She says before leaving to go wake up Jesper.

You crawl your way to the door, still feeling the lingering effects of the poison. “Wylan. Antidote?” You croak.

Once you are given the butterfly, you make your way over to Kaz, the only person still under the effects of the poison. 

XXXXX

Kaz is confused. He wakes up, back on that mountain of bodies in the river, but his brother is alive.

“Jordie?” He asks, confused.

His brother stares at him, full of rage. Without a word, he begins to drown him. Just when Kaz has almost lost all of his oxygen, his brother pulls him back out from under the water.

“Who are you without your vengeance?” Jordie yells. 

“Kaz. Wake up” You say, one gloved hand cupping the side of his face, the other moving his jaw to try to force him to chew. He can’t hear you.

“What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?” Jordie asks, before plunging him under the water again. 

“Kaz” You repeat, and he hears you this time. “You’re going to be alright” 

You come into focus in a water gaze, the remnants of the poison still giving a dreamlike quality. It takes him a few moments to realize that it’s no longer a hallucination and that both of your hands are on his face. Gloved hands.

You pull your hands away from his face as soon as you see him come out of it. 

“Sorry,” You say. 

You don’t have to apologize, he thinks. 

XXXXX

“Kaz, a word?” You say, wanting to get him alone. You’ve obtained the Neshyenyer and are getting ready to head to East Ravka. 

He nods in acknowledgment while the others in the room make no effort to leave.

“Alone.” You add, so the others get the picture. 

Everyone exchanges suspicious glances with one another except Kaz, who is only looking at you. Nina winks as she passes you on her way out of the room. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

You position yourself by the door, a good five feet away from him, in order to respect his boundaries. The boundaries that you’ve consistently had to cross recently to protect him.

“What do you need?” He asks. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

Of course he isn’t, but you want him to admit that. You suspect he’ll respond with something defensive, something clever, something like “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” or “Why does it matter?” or “We have a job to do”. For it to be like the dream. 

“Are you?” He responds.

“No. And I’m getting a little tired of pretending I am.” You answer honestly. The difference between you, and all the other crows, and hell, everyone else that you interact with, is that you aren’t emotionally repressed. You don’t hide it under a sense of revenge, don’t mask it with a face of no emotion, and don’t keep your true thoughts and feelings hidden under a veil of humor. He told you it was a weakness, once. 

“You’re still wearing the gloves.” He comments.

You glance down at your gloved hands and then back at him. “So I am.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” You don’t have to do anything for me, He thinks. 

“I know.” You say, “I just don’t want to hurt you.” 

There is a long silence as you look at each other, not really sure what to say.

“I wanted you to stay,” He states, looking away from you. Almost as if he’s ashamed that he’s allowing himself to be this vulnerable. “When you asked me in the alley… I wanted you to stay.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat at the admission. Maybe the poison-induced hallucination wasn’t too farfetched after all. 

“I’ll stay.” You take a step towards him, still unsure of his boundaries. Still unsure how close or far you can get without causing him pain. 

“Will you tell me why?” You ask. I can’t help you through something when I don’t know why it causes you pain.

“I don’t know if I can,” It’s the first genuine answer you’ve gotten out of him in a long time. 

“When we were poisoned I- you were in my hallucination,” You admit, taking a few more steps closer to him.  

“What happened in your hallucination?” He asks. Throughout this, he’s made no effort to move from his seat at the table, but his heartbeat has become steadily faster, stronger. 

“I was angry at you- but you seemed to understand why. And you took your gloves off and touched me and- that’s how I knew it wasn’t real.” You reply. “What did you hallucinate?” You add, not wanting him to ruminate on your confession too long. 

“My brother was drowning me,” He states.

“I’m sorry,” You say, reflexively. 

“He asked me, ‘What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?’ and then I saw you,” You’ve never seen him sheepish before- vulnerability doesn’t exactly suit him. 

“Oh,” You breathe. “So what now?” 

“We go to East Ravka.”

“Right,” You say, trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Time to save the world. Again.” 

“We’re not saving it. We’re just getting paid.” Kaz responds.

You steel yourself, trying not to beat yourself up for thinking you were finally getting somewhere. That this would be anything more than words.

"After. We will discuss us after." He adds, quelling your doubt. "We still have a job to do."

You nod.

"I'm here if you need me." You say, turning to leave.

"I know," Kaz replies.

[cordeliawhohung]

Liquid Smooth [3]

main masterlist | series masterlist

bodyguard!Gaz x fem!model!Reader

it wasn't a waste

warnings: not a whole lot! mentions of blood, a little less bodyguard and a bit more husband material, somewhat mutual pining, some fluff and soft moments with gaz, reader is mad lonely

wc: 4.6k

As it turns out, sleeping with your head resting on the armrest of a couch was not the most comfortable thing in the world, and the kink in your neck reminded you of your unfortunate miscalculation. You woke with a groan as you stiffly lifted your body from the couch. Eyes still blurred with sleep, you glanced around Kyle’s living room as the events of the previous night flooded your memory. 

The break in. How he hugged you. Laying in his bed. Wandering out into the living room. Falling asleep listening to him talk. 

You groaned again as you rubbed the back of your neck, attempting to melt away the knot that formed there overnight. Kyle was nowhere to be found in the living room, but you could hear some sort of rustling coming from the hallway. 

Adjusting your nightshirt, you stood from the couch and began to shuffle down the hallway where you found Kyle in the kitchen. It was a quaint room with a simple oven and limited counter space, but it was completely spotless. He stood with his back turned to you as he rummaged through the pantry, but he must have heard you coming as he quickly turned to face you with a smile. 

“Mornin’ love. Sleep well?” he asked.

You gave him a tired smile before self consciously trying to pat your hair down. Normally, you were a very put together person, always needing to look good for the cameras. But at that moment, you were certain you looked like the world’s hottest mess. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you said awkwardly. 

There was something so exposing about your situation. Perhaps you hadn’t minded it too much the night before due to the adrenaline, but standing in someone else’s home with nothing but the clothes on your back felt odd. Like you now owed a debt just for existing in someone’s space. 

“Figured I’d cook something up for you,” Kyle said as he continued his search throughout his kitchen. “Eggs, toast, that sorta thing.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that,” you assured him. 

“I know,” he responded as he tossed a bagged loaf of bread on the counter, “but I’m not sending you home with an empty stomach. I imagine you’ll already have enough to deal with today, after everything that happened last night.”

You sighed in defeat, both from realizing Kyle was giving you more than he should, and at the thought of having to sort through the logistics of your home. 

“God, I don’t even want to think about that,” you groaned. “We’ll have to check cameras, and I’m sure the police will want a more detailed report. Then I’ve gotta find someone to replace the window. And I’ve already got…”

You trailed off as you felt an odd tightening in your chest. With wide eyes, you quickly glanced around the room, scanning the walls for something. 

“What time is it?” you asked. 

Pausing, Kyle brought his wrist up where he looked at his watch. It was thick, but sat perfectly on the inside of his wrist. 

“Around seven forty,” he said. 

A choked laugh left you as you rubbed at your eyes. A sour feeling started to rise in your throat, and Kyle paused in his pursuit of breakfast to watch you with careful eyes. 

“That a no on breakfast, then?” he quipped half jokingly. 

“I’m supposed to be at a shoot in twenty minutes,” you sighed. “It’s downtown. Fuck I’m gonna be so late…”

“Brunch it is, then,” Kyle hummed as he tossed the bread back into the pantry. “Come on, I’ll drive you.” 

Panicked, you looked down at yourself. The nightshirt and shorts you wore were comfortable last night, but you certainly couldn’t go out looking like that. You had forgotten all about your shoot for that day, so you didn’t even bother to pack an overnight bag, or set your alarm for that matter. 

“I hate to ask this of you, but…”

“Of course,” Kyle butted in, as if reading your mind. 

He slipped across the hallway and into his bedroom where he quickly sorted through his dresser. In no time he had a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt in your arms. A seed of guilt began to eat away at your stomach for taking up more of Kyle’s time, but you pushed that feeling down as much as you could as you slipped into the bathroom to change.  

Kyle Garrick had some long fucking legs, and as you slipped his sweats on, you nearly tripped on all the extra fabric at your feet. His torso wasn’t much better either, and in order to control the cloth, you ended up shoving it into the waistband of the sweats. 

Sighing, you exited the bathroom where you found Kyle shuffling around in the living room. He appeared to be trying to change and gather items at the same time, as the zipper and belt of his pants were wide open while he picked up his wallet off of the coffee table and stuffed it into his pocket. He caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye and turned his attention to where you stood in the entryway with a grin. 

“There is no reason for anyone to be as tall as you are,” you quipped before he could say anything. 

His chuckling drowned out the zipping of his pants and the clinking of his belt as he walked towards you. Once his clothing was fully secure, he knelt in front of you where he began to mess with the hem of the sweatpants. His fingers brushed against the skin of your ankle as he neatly rolled up the extra fabric, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. 

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks before you were able to do anything to stop it. Why did things feel so different with Kyle? There were countless times where you had to be in close proximity to rather attractive people. God, you didn’t even want to know how many times you had to be nearly naked next to a man for a photoshoot. For you, it was just work, and nothing awkward. 

Wasn’t this work, too? Kyle was only taking care of you, just like you paid him to do. 

“There. All tripping hazards avoided,” Kyle said. He gave the pants a firm tug just to ensure that everything was secure before he looked back up at you. The smile on his face faltered slightly, and his eyebrows raised. “Doin’ alright, love?” 

You swallowed. “Yeah, just worried about being late.” 

Kyle nodded before he pushed himself back on his feet. For a split second, he was so close to you. Close enough that a hint of his cologne sent your mind spinning. That terrible, alluring scent you remembered from the previous night when you hugged him. But then he took a step back before leaning down at grabbing his car keys off the coffee table, and that feeling began to dissipate. 

“Let’s head out, then.” 

Two hours later and you were in full dress and makeup for your photoshoot. Liquid gold hung from your body in silky sheets and your eyelids were painted in the same metallic color. You looked like a goddess, some heavenly creature that had come down to grace everyone with your presence alone. However, you certainly didn’t feel like one. Not with the way your stomach growled so violently it was nearly louder than the industrial fans blowing your direction. 

But your photographer, being the amazing man that he was, told you to take a quick break when he noticed you were more off balance than usual while posing. Stumbling off the set, you took a seat in one of the chairs resting against the wall while everyone on set reviewed pictures and adjusted lighting and backdrops as needed. 

“Twenty minutes?” a disappointed voice spoke up. “You kept everyone waiting twenty minutes?”

You could recognize that voice from anywhere. Anna Lynn used to model when she was younger under the name A.Lynn. With the period, and capital L, as she would constantly remind people. It had become her identity at that point, and you were too afraid to question her too much on it. She came back into the industry just as you were rising to fame, and she offered to be your manager. And when the A.Lynn offers to be your manager, you don’t say no. 

A.Lynn was insanely smart, and knew everything there was to know about modeling, however, there were times where she could be somewhat neurotic. The look in her eyes was all you needed to know that you were in for a long chastising. She had her hands on her hips as she stood in front of you like a mother ready to discipline her child. 

“Do you realize how unprofessional that is? This photoshoot is going to put you on the cover of Vogue, sweetie. I mean, seriously, what has gotten into you?” she demanded. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed. If you hadn’t had a full face of caked on makeup, you would have been rubbing at your eyes. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I just, had a rough night last night and I forgot to set my alarm and-”

“Wait, what happened last night?” For as uptight and worrisome as A.Lynn could be, there was a strong motherly side to her as well. One that was rare to find in that industry and have it be sincere.

“Someone broke into my house last night,” you spoke, voice quivering. “Shattered one of my windows on the ground floor. Could hardly sleep because of it and I just forgot about everything, and I’m sorry.” 

Tears were already falling before you could stop them, and you did your best to pat away the moisture without ruining your makeup. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you. There was some sort of guilty feeling eating away at you, and your brain felt fuzzy. You didn’t even cry the night that crazed protester ripped your dress, nearly exposing you. Maybe something really had gotten into you.

“Sweetie,” A.Lynn said, voice softening as her hands fell from her hips, “why didn’t you say anything?”

“I felt like if I did, I was just making excuses,” you sniffled. 

You weren’t sure if it was the tone in your voice, or something else, but A.Lynn’s posture completely changed. She let out a soft sigh and shook her head before taking a step away from you. 

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’m calling the shoot off.”

Your mouth opened in protest, and for a moment your tears stopped due to the utter shock you felt. A.Lynn had been one of the world's most popular models before moving to the management side of things. Even someone who didn’t know her name could tell she held a certain grace and poise about her just from her movements alone. It was easy to forget just how powerful she really was. 

“Seriously? No, I promise I’m fine, I can do it,” you insisted. 

“I saw what you were like up there. You’re clearly not in the right headspace for this, and you looked like you were going to faint. Did you even eat this morning?” she asked with an eyebrow raised. 

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, all you could do was stare up at her as you folded your hands in your lap. “But you said it yourself, this is going on Vogue, I can’t just-”

“Honey, you are one of, if not the, most popular model in the industry. You could ask for a pink pony and someone would find a way to give one to you. We can reschedule a damn photoshoot,” A.Lynn said. “Now go wash up and take the day off. Won’t do you any good to work yourself to death.” 

What a mess. But it wasn’t going to do you any good arguing with her, and you were certain everyone on earth knew that by that point. With a sigh, you wiped at your eyes, no longer caring about the makeup the artists had delicately painted your skin with. You vanished into one of the changing rooms where you shedded your elegant dress and washed your face. Even the best makeup remover in the world couldn’t remove the shiny metallic of your eyeshadow, but your brain was too fried to even care. 

Once you got dressed again, you stood in the mirror for a moment just to look at yourself. It was Kyle’s clothes that you wore. They were too big for you, but in a way that almost felt right, like it belonged. Maybe you were a little scared about how nice it felt. 

Shaking your head as if that would get it to clear, you gathered your things before slipping back into the studio. Most everyone had cleared out of the space once the shoot was called off, but there were a few stragglers putting away items into storage. A.Lynn was still there, and you were surprised to see that she was speaking with Kyle. He towered over her, yet looked non-threatening with a small bag in his hand. 

After he had dropped you off, you had insisted that he go home to spend his day doing something he enjoyed since he spent the night having to care for you. And it took some convincing to get this man to leave. So why did he come back? Had A.Lynn called him? 

Kyle’s eyes caught sight of you the instant you re-entered the room, and he must have said something to A.Lynn because she turned to get a quick look at you too. She waved you down, and you followed her gesture, joining their little group in the back of the studio. 

“Mr. Garrick, being the gentleman that he is, brought you breakfast,” A.Lynn explained. “He also said he would take you home, if you need the ride.” 

For another time that day, you felt the heat rise in your face, but you tried your best to ignore it as you pulled at your - Kyle’s - shirt. It had been awhile since you had felt like a child, and the events of the last twenty-four hours certainly didn’t help. 

“Eat up, and get some rest,” was her final parting words to you before she patted your shoulder and vanished, probably to go talk to some representative about rescheduling. 

You looked up at Kyle with slight apprehension and a little bit of guilt. As always, his expression to you was warm, and a slight smile appeared on his face as he held out the small paper bag for you to take. 

“Brunch,” he explained simply. 

“Kyle,” you chuckled as you took the bag from him, “you didn’t have to go through all this. Did A.Lynn make you do this?” 

“Well, since I couldn’t cook for you this morning, I was planning on dropping by with food anyway,” he explained. “And for the record, I was the one that recommended giving you a ride home. Figured it would be best to check things over at the house before leaving you alone again.” 

His words shouldn’t have made your heart flutter as much as it did, and still your body seemed to have a mind of its own. When you had hired the former SAS soldier, you had expected someone older, gruff, and maybe a bit rude. Slightly scary, for sure. You never thought you were hiring someone who’d let you hug them after a break in, and give you their clothes when you had none for the day. 

“You take your job very seriously, Mr. Garrick,” you teased. 

“Well, whether it’s terrorists or home invaders, I always like to do my job well, ma’am,” he teased back. 

Fuck, this man was going to be the death of you. 

The car ride back to your house was full of the delicious croissant sandwiches Kyle bought, and small talk over the quiet volume of the radio. He was easy to talk to, and incredibly sarcastic in a blunt, funny way. You were certain you would never run out of things to talk about with him, and you enjoyed the fact that he avoided asking questions about your job, so you did the same for him. In that moment, you weren’t a model, and he wasn’t your bodyguard, you two were just… well, something. 

When you arrived home, Kyle entered the house with you. A few cops had taped a large tarp over the gaping hole that the shattered window left the night before, but the glass still created a treacherous path all throughout your living room. The plastic rustled in the soft breeze and it echoed dully off of your mostly bare walls. There was too much space for you to try and cover. Even with a whole house to yourself you were afraid to take up too much space. 

“Want me to do a sweep of the house?” Kyle offered. 

You chuckled at the absurdity of his question. “Proper military style?” 

“As opposed to improper?” 

“Just, do whatever you think is best.” 

Kyle shot you a grin before you let him run loose throughout your house. Most people probably would have felt uneasy about letting someone essentially snoop through their home, but honestly, you didn’t have much, if anything, to hide. A majority of your rooms were empty, save for your bedroom. You kept a few guest bedrooms just to make the place feel less empty, and there was a room that you had attempted to turn into an office, yet you hardly used it except when taking pictures to post on your Instagram. 

While he was busy doing… whatever it was he was doing, you got to work on trying to tidy up your home. The shards of glass was the biggest issue, so logically you started there armed with a broom and a dustpan. You grabbed two trash bags and put one inside of the other in order to make a double barrier against any holes that would be created and began sweeping up pan-fuls of shattered glass. 

You wondered where the person who broke into your home had run off to when the alarm had been tripped. Had they needed the money that bad? Honestly, you probably would have given the money to them had they asked for it. You had more than you knew what to do with, anyway. 

“You’ve got a mini cinema in this place?” Kyle spoke up as he walked back into the living room. 

Pausing, you straightened yourself up with a dustpan full of glass shards in your hand. A sheepish smile crossed your lips before you unceremoniously dumped the glass into the bag with the rest. 

“Yeah. Came with the home when I bought it. Haven’t really used it though,” you admitted with a shrug. 

“Seriously? That feels like a crime,” Kyle said, almost with a whine. 

“It’s not as cool when you’re watching stuff by yourself,” you admitted. 

And it wasn’t a lie. Your theatre was impressive, with complete surround sound that had bass that shook you to your core, and a screen that wasn’t quite as large as an actual cinema, but was larger than any TV you had ever seen before. You could watch any movie or show with stunning sound and images. But there were no words that you could string together to explain the heart shattering silence that followed when it was over. 

You were getting tired of hearing your own breathing. 

“But if you’re interested, there’s a port where you can hook up things like consoles and whatnot. Just in case you’d like to get your ass kicked in Siege on the big screen,” you offered with a grin. 

Kyle opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out; only a simple scoff as he nodded his head in defeat. “Yeah. Suppose I asked for that one.” 

Chuckling, you continued to sweep up the floor. In the time that it took Kyle to search through the house for any unwanted visitors, animal or human, you had hardly made a dent in the mess your midnight visitor left. 

“Got another broom?” Kyle asked. 

You bent down in order to hold the dustpan more stable before attempting to sweep yet another pile of glass up. An industrial sized push broom would have made things go much faster, but you were stuck with your small house broom instead. 

“Kyle, please. You’ve already done so much for me with everything that happened last night. I can clean up a bit of a mess,” you insisted. 

It was as if the universe was trying to prove you wrong, because while you were attempting to sweep into the pan, you felt a sharp sting. A shard of glass had flicked up and sliced the soft flesh that laid between your thumb and forefinger. You hissed at the sting and retracted your hand away from the dustpan. A steady river of blood already flowed from the cut, despite it not appearing to be all that deep. 

“You were saying?” Kyle prompted.

“Christ, I can’t seem to catch a break,” you sighed. You said it with a bit of a chuckle, but only because you were convinced that you’d break down if you didn’t. 

“Hey, c’mon,” Kyle said softly. He braved the stray shards of glass that laid between the two of you and took the broom from your hand before leaning it against the wall. You stood up and held your hand, trying to catch the flow of blood from dripping on the floor. “Do you have a first aid kit?” 

Nodding, you turned your head towards the stairs. “Yeah, I’ve got one in the bathroom next to my room.” 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” he insisted, hand coming to rest against the small of your back as he gently urged you forward. 

In an attempt to ignore the warmth of his hand, you focused instead on the crimson pooling in the palm of your hand. It was so thick, and you could feel it coagulating already. 

Just like the rest of your house, your bathroom was impressive. A large, whirlpool tub sat in the far corner, but it was more akin to a hot tub than anything else. There was a regular shower, which you had remodeled to be more similar to a classic shower because you found that the overhead raindrop system got your shampoo into your eyes. Then, of course, a large and extravagant vanity with lighting that was similar to what you’d find in the makeup room of a theatre. 

“Bottom drawer on the left,” you directed.

While Kyle shuffled through the drawer, you held your hand over the sink where the blood splattered into the bowl. Avoiding getting blood elsewhere, you turned the water on and washed the coagulated mess down the drain. 

“Luckily for you, I completed first aid training while I was in basic,” Kyle said as he set the small kit on the counter next to you. “So there will be no bleeding out on my watch.” 

“I’d sure hope not,” you chuckled. 

Kyle grabbed a small pack of gauze before ripping the packaging open. He held his other hand out and made a slight grabbing motion, asking for your hand. Turning the water off, you quickly held your hand for him to take, and he instantly pressed the gauze against your cut to soak up the blood. 

You tried not to look at him. You were certain you would combust if you did. There was no way in the world you would be able to survive looking at him while he held your hand as delicately as he did. Carefully wiping away any blood, but not using so much pressure as to aggravate the cut. He was too kind to you. 

“A simple band aid might not cut it since it’s in such an odd spot, so I’ll try wrapping it instead,” Kyle explained. 

He pulled the gauze away from your hand and checked the amount of blood that was on it. It was already starting to slow, but you could see just how deep and jagged the cut was, like it tore through your flesh more than it sliced through it. Tossing it to the side, Kyle opened up a fresh set of gauze before pressing it against your hand again. Then, he fumbled with a few other items until he found some wrapping material. 

His hands were so large compared to yours, and the way his fingers gently traced the palm of your hand as he smoothed out the wrap made your stomach flutter. Even being around Kyle was electrifying in a way that almost hurt. There was something deep inside of you that ached for him. Something that you needed to ignore. 

“There we go. All better,” he finished. 

Smiling, you turned your hand over to inspect his work. The gauze was held securely in place, and the wrapping was significantly better than anything you would have been able to accomplish by yourself. You looked up to find that he was already looking at you. And it shouldn’t have meant anything. It didn’t mean anything. But you wanted it to. Fuck, you wanted it to so bad. 

“Thank you. For everything,” you said, voice growing soft. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I cut into your personal time.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was my pleasure,” Kyle said as a slight grin began to pull at his lips. “Besides, you make decent company.” 

You giggled at that comment, but only so you could bite back the words that threatened to spill from your lips. He was just so… everything. So kind and funny and sweet it was almost infuriating. Some sort of longing built up inside of you so furiously that it almost felt like aggression. It was like having something just beyond reach. Like waking up from a dream. 

“Well, I appreciate it, but I should let you get home. You’ve wasted enough time on me as is,” you said with a bashful smile. 

Avoiding his gaze, you instead turned your attention to the bloody gauze on the counter and picked it up before carefully walking to the small trashcan next to the toilet. You had hardly thrown the item away before Kyle spoke up again. 

“It wasn’t a waste.” 

Your attention snapped to Kyle, and he suddenly seemed almost unsure of himself. He ran a careful hand over his hair as he looked down at his feet. Whatever uneasiness he expressed quickly vanished as he hooked a thumb into one his pockets. 

“If you need anything else, just call, yeah?” he said, looking back up at you. 

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. And thanks again.” 

Kyle smiled, and you swore you almost broke then and there. Those thoughts swimming around in your mind were dangerous and needed to be smothered, but a part of you enjoyed entertaining them too much. But as you walked him out of your house, you knew that it couldn’t last forever. This little crush of yours. Sure, it felt fun and exciting, but it was fleeting. It was something that would stretch its wings and fly off without you in an instant. 

But for now, you could pretend. If it made that house feel a little smaller; if it made the nights less quiet; you could pretend. At least for a little while. 

[whiskrs]

Despite this being a VERY long post, I’m not really gonna add much of value to the conversation regarding Imane Khelif that hasn’t already been said. This is more…a case study on intersectionality based on tumblr posts and news articles.

If you have trouble conceptualizing or accepting the concept of intersectionality and why it’s incredibly important, just read through the “imane khelif” tag here while paying attention to what exactly the op is defending/arguing. You’ll see mostly 3 things:

First, Imane Khelif is a WOC. In addition to the white western world seeing non-white features as masculine, she is forced to endure an increased level of scrutiny before the starting bell even rings (exacerbated by the fact her opponent was white and cried.) This is the power of white woman tears. This is an issue of racism.

Second, Imane Khelif is collateral in an ongoing war against trans people. All the usual suspects have come out of the woodwork to galvanize an increasingly violent reactionary right wing group into escalating restrictions and hatred against trans people under the guise of protecting women. This is an issue of transphobia.

Third. Imane Khelif is assigned female at birth, but maybe* has higher levels of testosterone and is rumored* to have xy chromosomes. Whether or not this is true, she is being discriminated against for her perceived DSD. This is an intersex issue.

*based on the findings of an unsubstantiated corrupt test that honestly shouldn’t have been given in the first place

The thing is all three of these are true. Fully and completely true. However any truth here taken by itself will miss some of the picture. You need to put it all together for the full story. I’m a white trans woman in the US, so I’ll look at it through that lens, but you can honestly fit these pieces together in another order, that’s just my life experience so I can speak on it.

This would make the whole story:

Imane Khelif is a woman who won an Olympic boxing match. She is from Algeria, which means that; as far as the US white republican is concerned, she’s black. And due to centuries of institutional racism, black is seen as inherently masculine and violent. But they aren’t self reflective enough to realize that they’re being racist or even that that’s a racist belief. “Racism is bad and I’m not bad!” Why does everything have to be about race??” They’ll say. (Note: this is VERY SPECIFICALLY about the subconscious perception of black bodies as violent that like. My dad holds. Your aunt. White people who don’t understand their racism and don’t ACTIVELY and CONSCIOUSLY act on it)

Unsurprisingly, the same kind of person who has ingrained racist body standards are also violently anti-trans, and for now it’s still “ok” to hate transgender people. There is no “transphobia is bad and I’m not bad” here. In the states, republicans (and too many centrists and liberals) are in full on “these things are degenerate and need to be gone” mode. It’s in vogue, it’s what they’re reading about on twitter, it’s what their fave influencer is rage baiting about.

So they see a black woman, perceive her to be violent and masculine, THEN they hear that she may be intersex or she has high testosterone. Which means nothing to my dad or your aunt, but it sounds like what they’ve been mad about! My dad is more likely to think intersex is a new gender than know what Swyres Syndrome is. So this, in their racist perception, violent and masculine person is pretending to be a woman! Trans ideology woke mind virus save the women etc.

They’re using racism as an underlying force, aimed with intersex allegations, to attack trans people.

Or just as easily from a perspective I can’t speak on:

They’re using trans hatred as an underlying force, supported by intersex allegations, to attack WOC.

And:

Intersex identities are being used as a tool for hatred while being whole sale ignored in a discussion that directly affects them.

So where does that leave us? Well personally I think the intersection between these groups/identities/people is easy to see when scrolling through her tag. When one person is talking about race and the next post doesn’t even mention where she’s from, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

If we can’t take all of these points into consideration, and instead (like I’ve see in more than a few posts) claim one groups oppression to be “what’s actually happening” then you miss the whole picture of what’s happening to YOU. Without intersectional thinking, I missed the component of racism that is fueling this fire, and the intersex component that was the starter. How am I meant to put out a fire if I can’t even figure out if it’s grease or electrical? Im too busy burning to wonder how it’s gotten this far

[haddonfieldwhore]

look after you - mjf

mjf x gender neutral! cole! reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: injury (concussion), mostly fluff, probably ooc for max idk i’m trying. for simplicity i’m using ring names, slightly nsfw at the end

summary: when you sustain a concussion during a match, someone has to watch over you. who better than your older brothers new bff?

your vision blurred as you were slammed onto the canvas, your head hitting it harder than it was supposed to. you were supposed to get up and move to do the next spot- supposed to kick out of the pin, but you couldn’t find the strength to move, instead you eyes fluttered closed as your chest rose and fell heavily with each breath.

it should’ve been like any other match- it was only a power bomb- a simple move that just went slightly wrong. you couldn’t even remember who your opponent had been, your head was spinning so fast. you heard the bell signalling that the match had been ended prematurely, but it sounded like it miles away.

officials rushed over to check on you, and you could feel their hands carefully lifting you onto a stretcher and taking you out of the ring to medical. you could tell people were talking around you, but couldn’t hear what they were saying as you drifted out of consciousness, and everything around you went black.

•••

when you woke up, you were in your hotel room, the bright lights had been turned off so that the only light in the room was lamp on the side table. your head was pounding, but you managed to sit up on your own, albeit slowly, and take a look around. to your surprise, you weren’t alone; none other than maxwell jacob friendman sat in the arm chair in the corner of the room, his head on his shoulder as he slept. max had become friends with your older brother adam in the last few months, and while you were still wary of max due to his reputation as a bit of a scumbag - how much of that was his character you weren’t sure- you had no personal issue with him. if you were correct, he was around your age, maybe a year or two older, and you had been a little surprised at how fast he and adam had become friends.

max seemed to notice that you were awake, as he stirred in his seat.

“hey- how’re you feeling?” he asked, walking over to the side of the bed to check on you.

“i have a headache but i’ll live,” you sighed. “don’t take this the wrong way but-“

“what am i doing here?” he laughed, and you nodded, regretting the decision instantly as pain shot through your head. max placed a hand gently on your shoulder, before seemingly realizing what he’d done and removing it.

“take it easy. the doctor said you need supervision for 48 hours, and your brother asked me if i could keep an eye on you since he’s at home with britt this weekend,” he explained. “but if you’re uncomfortable with it i’m sure we could find someone else to-“

“no not at all. i just didn’t expect to see you when i woke up you know? we’ve hardly talked,” you replied, and then realized that may have come across as rude. “but i am grateful, it’s nice of you to do this for adam.”

“we’re brochacos for life,” he smiled, and you couldn’t help but think that he looked cute when he had a genuine smile on his face instead of the usual cocky smirk.

“i’m assuming if i’m not in the hospital i can’t be hurt too bad,” you thought aloud, and max nodded, pointing to the end of the bed silently asking permission to sit. you pulled your feet up under you to sit cross legged and he took it as a yes.

“yeah, somehow just a minor concussion. you should be back to kicking ass in a few weeks. just gotta take it easy and avoid bright lights for a few days.”

“i can do that,” you sighed contently, relieved to hear it wasn’t a more serious injury.

“we were all really worried about you. that bump looked really fucking scary,” he admitted, and you felt even more grateful that you were in as good a condition as you were. a smile crossed your face.

“maybe it has something to do with the wonderful nurse i have,” you teased, gesturing to max, who mocked offence.

“please, you wish you could see me in one of those little nurse outfits- i would look fantastic,” he joked.

“i don’t think they really wear those anymore. or you just have a perverted idea of it.” you both laughed, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected. you trusted you brothers judgment, and if he was friends with him you knew that max must have some redeeming qualities. it also helped that he was so handsome,

“you should get some sleep, it’s late,” max said, and you glanced over at the clock, seeing that it read 2:05 am. even though you had just slept for almost 4 hours, you were exhausted. your eyes landed on the uncomfortable looking arm chair in the corner of the room, and you felt bad thinking about max having to sleep in it. your room unfortunately didn’t have a couch or pull out bed but it was a king sized bed, so there was more than enough room for two people.

“you don’t have to sleep in that chair. it’s probably terrible for your back and i would feel bad making you sleep there after you’re being so nice and taking care of me,” you offered.

“it’s not a big deal; and i don’t know how much adam would appreciate-“

“adam doesn’t have to know. besides, it’s not like that,” you rolled your eyes, and max smiled.

“thanks,” he said softly. he stood up, pulling his hoodie over his head, leaving him in a black tank top, a good chain around his neck. he walked over to the other side of the bed, and sat down before switching off the lamp, leaving the room dark. you both laid down, the large bed leaving a comfortable amount of space between you as you found yourself drifting off to sleep with ease.

“goodnight, y/n,” you heard max softly say, but you were too tired to reply, already nearly asleep.

•••

sometime around 10 am, you began to stir awake, not yet conscious enough for your brain to register the feeling of arms around your waist. your head hurt significantly less than it had last night, and you shifted slightly, before you felt yourself being pulled closer to max, who you realized had at some point in the night, pulled your back against his chest and caged you safely in his arms. you knew you shouldn’t, but you found yourself enjoying it; he was so warm that you couldn’t help but turn over in his arms, curling into his chest as he hummed slightly, still asleep as he tucked you under his chin. you couldn’t have got up if you wanted to now, tightly in his embrace as he koala hugged you, and you felt yourself fall back to sleep.

max woke up about an hour later, and looked down to see you securely in his arms, and his heart sped up. this wasn’t supposed to happen- what would adam think if he saw this? of course nothing like that had happened, it was just sleeping; but would adam believe that? would anyone? the worst part is how much he enjoyed waking up next to you. while agreeing to watch over you had not been an elaborate attempt to get in your bed, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before. he knew it was wrong, your brother being his best and only friend after all, but he couldn’t stop himself from the growing attraction he had to you, and it was only getting worse the more time he spent with you. how the hell was he supposed to survive 24 more hours alone with you? max felt you move slightly in his arms, but rather than waking up, you nuzzled into his chest more, and at that moment he realized just how screwed he truly was.

max placed a soft kiss to your forehead, and this time you did wake up, and he was worried he had fucked up. but as your eyes opened and you looked up at him, he was relieved when you didn’t freak out. instead, you mumbled a soft ‘good morning’, and max let you out of his grip.

“how’s your head?” he asked, and you smiled before responding.

“i haven’t had any complaints,” you smirked, and it only took max a second to get the joke. he laughed, rolling his eyes as you sat up against the headboard.

“very funny.”

“i feel a lot better. i think sleeping definitely helped,” you gave a real answer now, and he smiled a genuine smile again as he looked up at you, still laying with his head on the pillow. “is the bed more comfortable than the chair?”

“definitely,” he scoffed. “it could have something to do with the cute teddy bear i had.” you felt your cheeks heat up, and you grabbed the pillow from behind you and whacked him with it. he laughed again, the pillow over his face before he moved it to his chest, and a comfortable silence fell over the room.

“adam…” you started.

“doesn’t need to know,” he finished the thought you were having. you nodded, thankful that it didn’t hurt your head this time.

“do you want to order breakfast?” you asked, carefully standing up for the first time since the match. max noticed you wobbling, and rushed out of bed to offer a shoulder to you. “i guess chivalry isn’t dead,” you teased.

“what can i say i’m a gentleman,” he smirked, helping you over to the chair in the corner.

“thank you,” you said, as he passed you the room service menu. “i was right - this chair is awful,” you laughed, confirming your suspicions having now actually sat in the rock hard piece of furniture.

“yeah, i think i might’ve lost years off my career if i slept in it,” max laughed, rubbing the side of his neck as if imagining the stiffness he would’ve felt. you continued reading the menu options until you found something you wanted, and then extended the paper to max.

“do you know what you want?”

“do i,” he mumbled. he was distracted looking at you and hadn’t meant to say it out loud. you looked at him funny, assuming you had just misheard him and honestly thinking nothing of it. “uh no i have to look at the menu.” he cleared his throat.

“here,” you smiled, and he took it from your hand before sitting on the end of the bed. as he looked over the food options, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. how did he look so good first thing in the morning? his brown curls were slightly messy, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips. you were sure you looked horrible in comparison, and decided to try to walk on your own to the bathroom. max looked up at the movement in his peripheral vision, and offered to help again.

“i’m okay - i’m gonna have to figure out how to stand on my own at some point. unless you’re going to help me shower?” you joked, and max raised his eyebrows, and you swore his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“i mean if you NEEDED me to i-“ he teased, grin on his face. you had much better luck walking on your own this time, and managed to make it all the way to the bathroom door, grabbing a change of clothes from your suitcase on the way by.

“nice try, friedman,”

“just trying to be helpful,” he smiled, and you shook your head.

“you can go ahead and order the food; i’ll just have whatever you’re having. they should just charge it to my room but if they don’t my card is in my wallet,” you pointed to your bag on the dresser, before stepping into the bathroom.

“just yell if you need anything,” max offered, before grabbing the phone to order the room service. he heard the water turn on, and after he had ordered gave his credit card number - no way in hell he was using yours.

after he hung up, max flopped dramatically onto the bed, landing on his stomach with his face in the pillow. he noticed it smelled slightly of your body spray, and groaned softly. get it together, he thought to himself, but the thought of you in the shower was doing nothing to help his brain from thinking all too much.

•••

you turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, feeling a lot better after letting the hot water relax your muscles. you wrapped a towels around your body and dried off before putting on your clean clothes, a simple t shirt and some shorts since you would be staying in the hotel room all day. deciding in the mirror that your appearance was acceptable, you walked out of the bathroom to find max laying face down in the bed.

“what are you doing,” you asked, laughing slightly.

“i’m relaxing- what does it look like i’m doing?” he replied, and you walked over to the side of the bed next to him. he rolled over so he was looking up at you, and sat up with his back against the headboard. “the food should be here soon.”

“awesome. want to find a movie to watch? you can pick since you’re stuck here with me,” you offered.

“you feel up to staring at a tv screen for 2 hours?” he asked, and you realized you hadn’t really thought about that.

“good point. i think i’m fine, if my head starts to hurt i’ll close my eyes,” you promised. max looked at you unsure, but sighed.

“fine, but don’t push yourself. come here,” he said, gesturing for you to sit next to him, and you resisted the urge to curl into his side. what had gotten into you, you thought.

•••

the food had arrived and been eaten, a movie playing on tv that you weren’t really paying attention to. it wasn’t really bothering your head thankfully, but the constant thought of how close max was to you was plaguing your mind, the scent of his expensive cologne driving you crazy. you decided to make the most of the opportunity, and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes. he looked down at you, immediately wrapping his arm around your back to hold you close.

“you okay? is it bothering your head?” he asked. “i’ll turn it off.”

“it’s okay, can you just turn it down a little? i’m just gonna close my eyes for a minute,” you mumbled, and max turned the sound nearly to mute, before you felt him pull you into his lap, your legs over his sideways. you were a little surprised, but nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, a without thinking, placed a gentle kiss below his jaw. you both froze, and you pulled back to read his expression. you began to apologize, when his finger reached forward to gently hold your chin. you nodded softly, before max leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. he tasted sweet, a hint of maple syrup on his tongue from breakfast, and you felt your heart skip a beat. he kissed you so gently, like you were made of glass, and when you finally separated, you both stared at each other, catching your breath.

“i-“

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” max admitted, his cheeks flushed, and you were sure yours matched.

“really?” you asked, surprised.

“uh, yeah?” he said, like it was obvious. “god, adam would kill me if he could read minds.” you laughed, leaning forward to kiss him again, gently nibbling at his bottom lip. his hands landed on your hips and adjusted your position to straddle his lap, the blanket gathering around your waist.

“adam’s not here,” you pointed out. max screwed his eyes shut.

“i’m starting to think that you’re a very bad influence,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper than usual.

“how can i be a bad influence on someone who calls themselves the devil?” you asked. his fingertips dig into your sides,

“i’m trying really hard to behave myself right now, but you’re not making it easy….” he trailed off, looking up at you as he breathed heavily.

“i don’t know what you’re-“ you played dumb before he interrupted you with another kiss, rougher than the previous ones. his teeth tugged at your bottom lip, before his tongue slipped past and explored your mouth. you moaned into the kiss, and max bucked his hips upwards slightly at the sound. he pulled away, breathing heavily as he apologized.

“i’m sorry- i don’t think we should do this right now. i really don’t want to hurt you.” he admitted, and you could tell that it pained him to say it. you kissed him one more time, gently again, as if to say you understood.

“you’re probably right. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. don’t think i don’t want to,” he assured you, and you nodded. curling into his side again, you rested your head back on his shoulder, kissing him on the cheek quickly before you closed your eyes.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you mumbled, feeling sleepy again. max pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you hummed softly.

“anytime. although, maybe next time you don’t have to get a concussion to convince me to spend time with you,” he teased, and you playfully punched his ribs. “okay, okay, sorry.” his hand rested on your thigh, his fingertips drawing little shapes and patterns on your bare skin.

“deal.”

[candiedcoffeedrops]

Cloud Gazing

Ring Schwarz x Reader (no pronouns used)

Notes: I just wanted to write something sweet and fluffy to take a break from trying to write three other things all at once and this came out. Not a lot to say here, just fluff!

WC: 674 CW: None, but it is written from Ring's perspective. Also, tooth-rotting fluff, but that's it that's all I can think of.

Oh yeah, still no beta. We die like mne.

“Ring! That one looks like a crocodile in a sun hat! See look, that part there is the snout, right? See how it’s open like it’s smiling? Then-”

I sit on the grass beside you, the sun's warmth soaking into my skin as the clouds drift lazily overhead. Your voice, light and full of laughter, fills the air as you excitedly point out shapes in the sky. My gaze follows your outstretched finger, tracing the contours of a particularly fluffy cloud that might indeed resemble a crocodile in a sunhat—if I squint. But my attention inevitably drifts back down to Earth—to you.

I try to focus on the clouds, really I do, but my gaze keeps sliding back to you. Something about the way your eyes light up when you spot a new shape, the way you smile as if you’re discovering a treasure in the expansive blue above, draws me in completely. My chest tightens with a mix of comfort and a kind of yearning welling up within me as I become acutely aware of your proximity. My eyes dart downward, noticing your other hand is splayed on the soft grass, fingers pointed towards me, and my own twitch with the suppressed urge to reach out and touch them. Surely, that wouldn’t be too forward, right? After all, we’re–

Your attention turned to me and I immediately refocused on the cloud, hoping you didn’t notice me staring. But the warmth spreading across my cheeks betrays me, and I silently curse my traitorous face.

Your giggle bubbles up beside me, and I feel the flush intensify. I turn my head, my lips thinning as I try to hide it.

“Caught you looking,” you tease, another laugh escaping your lips. “What’s so fascinating? Do I have something on my face?”

“I–wasn’t…I mean, I was, but–”

Before I can finish, you shift closer with a soft hum, and warmth envelops my hand. I glance down to find our fingers intertwined, your gentle squeeze a soothing balm to my nerves. It’s a simple, sweet gesture, but one that never fails to ground me. “It’s okay. I look at you like that sometimes, too. So, I don’t mind.” Your voice is warm, and your smile is bright. I breathe a small sigh of relief, the tension ebbing away as my own lips curve into a smile.

A silence passes over us, though not uncomfortable and I’m grateful for the chance to collect myself. You return to cloud watching but I remain focused on you. Every once in a while I’ll see your eyes shift to me and a subtle pink graces your cheeks as you point out new shapes in the sky. You bring so much light to everything, even small things like this and it makes me so immensely grateful I found you. You put the sky above to shame.

Your voice becomes a soothing rhythm, lulling me into a sense of calm. I hadn’t realized how tired I was, but now, with the sun warming my skin and you beside me, the tension I’ve been holding onto starts to slip away. My eyes grow heavy, and despite my best efforts to stay awake, and spend time with you, I feel the need to rest.

“Hey,” I begin, drawing your attention to me again with a curious tilt of your head. “May I…lean on you?” I ask, and I know it comes out as more of a nervous murmur than an actual question, but still, you smile softly at me and nod, offering your shoulder. The warmth of your body against mine is comforting, grounding me even as sleep pulls me under. I nuzzle closer, the scent of your hair filling my senses. A soft sigh escapes me as the tension begins to melt away.

The last bit of consciousness I have allows me to hear you hum softly, your fingers threading gently through my hair. “Sleep well, Ring.” You say and I can’t help but smile as I let myself fully relax into a sweet sleep.

Cloud dividers by @drinkthesky

Banner done by me.

@drachonia

[noxemma]

Dean Winchester is Saved!

Today is 16 years since Cas raised Dean from Hell, since that profound bond was formed, since Cas realized that Dean didn’t think he deserved to be saved.

Lazarus Rising changed my DNA in the best way possible. It was the beginning of a love story that has rotted my brain for years. And this episode specifically prompted me to write my first fic that was more than a thousand words and wasn’t inspired by a prompt.

Almost two years ago I made this note which started me writing and posting nearly 11k solely about an alternate Lazarus Rising where we see the profound bond form and the interaction of Cas and Dean in Hell, where Dean’s been torturing souls.

Anyway if that sounds interesting I put the link and a snippet of the fic below. Happy Lazarus Rising, Destiel Beginning, Dean is Saved Day!

Before Lazarus Rose

Summary: What if Cas and Dean met and formed this amazing bond (profound perhaps) before the iconic meeting in 4x01 but had their memory of it wiped? OR What happened in Hell when Castiel rescued Dean and why doesn't Dean remember it?

Dean

Pain. Never-ending pain is all Dean has known for the last thirty years. Even the few times he’s been allowed to fall asleep, to fall unconscious, he’s had nightmares.   His body and mind are so broken, so fractured, that his dreams are as well. He sees blue light and screams for someone, anyone, to help him. He begs and pleads for someone to save him until his voice gives out.

Doesn’t matter whether you are in Hell or topside, dreams don’t do a damn thing, Dean thinks blearily. He flinches against the chains in his flesh as Alastair draws near. “What shall we try today, hmm?” Alastair pulls out several knives, observing each one before settling on a small paring knife. “I think this will do. You know a smaller blade will take longer, take more effort; it’s … intimate.”

Alastair continues to teach as he slowly carves Dean’s skin from muscle, as he slowly cuts out organs. The commentary, Dean quickly decides, is worse than the physical pain. The pain blurs together, but the tricks of torture bury themself in his mind. He can look at Alastair’s rack of tools and remember what each one is best used for, how much pain each imparts on different areas of the body, and how long each takes to decimate a soul. While his own body is rejuvenated each day, the thirty years of knowledge continues to fester like his soul.

When he’s finally reduced to a mere consciousness tethered to a soul, Alastair whispers into the bits of blood and bone that used to be him. “Well? I’ll put down my blade if you pick one up.” It’s all too much. Too much pain, too much cruel knowledge. He’s not strong enough, he’s never been strong enough.

“Going once …”

How long can he actually hold out for anyway? Isn’t the end inevitable? After thirty years of pleading into the void, he has to accept the truth. No help is coming. “Going twice …” Even if he was rescued, his soul is already black and tarnished. He’s already in Hell with no hope of getting out. He was already broken before he arrived.

“Can’t say I’m not disappointed, Dean. You have such potential. We could have had a good thi-”

“I’ll do it.” Dean knows he should feel something. He should feel remorse or relief, but all he feels is resignation. This was always the end he was bound for. His body returns to him as Alastair grins and, for the first time in 360 months, Dean is able to step off the rack. For the first time in 10,950 days, Dean’s body and soul are his to control. There is still pain, still bits of Hell stuck in his soul, but this small bit of freedom and control is enough to ignore it. Dean grabs the paring knife and begins. Something in him fractures beyond repair at the first drop of blood. He knows that whatever goodness was in him is gone. Each soul after tears away more of him and replaces it with something dark and unfamiliar beneath his skin. He still thinks he deserved those thirty years of pain, but it gets easier as the years go on. Soul-deep exhaustion and numbness replace the pain with each piece of himself that he carves away. Eventually, he stops counting the souls, he stops counting the days too. He starts believing that the souls deserve it, they are in Hell after all. He even begins to enjoy it. After all he’s endured in life and death, it feels good to finally be the one to deal out some pain instead of constantly being on the receiving end.

[ghoststyles]

Mother’s Day

A Fairway to Heaven Extra

Warnings: NONE, fluffy af

~

“Birdie.”

Briar can feel Harry’s hot breath on the back of her neck as she blinks her eyes open, regaining her consciousness. It’s just before 11am on a sunny, Sunday morning in May.

Harry kisses the back of her neck, nose poking her as he inhales a deep breath, lavishing in her nice shampoo. The sheets are luxurious, and the pillows and comforter have formed a comfy nest around her.

She stretches out, her calf just about to form the largest Charley horse cramp, to which she squeaks out in fear. Harry wraps his arms around her waist to shush her.

“Birdie, it’s time to get up.”

“Hm?” She muses before turning around to face him, her eyes meeting his green ones. “I don’t even know what planet I’m on right now.”

Harry chuckles, tracing one finger down her neck. She slams her chin to her shoulder, trapping his hand in the crook. He knows that’s her tickle spot. “It’s Mother’s Day, Birdie. Y’gotta get up.”

She huffs, eyebrows pinching. “Why? My mom is obviously not here, Aunt Meredith is on another ayahuasca retreat, and you already celebrated your mother and Camille on the UK’s fake Mother’s Day date in March.”

Harry bites down on his lip, unwilling to deal with her stubbornness right now. “I think your babies want to give you something.”

Eyes shooting open, she looks around, just realizing her two precious pups are not in their usual spot: snuggled as close to Briar as physically possible, laying horizontally so Harry has to contort around them to sleep.

Harry slides off the bed, grabbing her ankle and swiping her down to where her feet touch the floor and her ass nearly following.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

She nods, reaching her arms out to connect with him. He lifts her, settling her feet around his waist so she doesn’t fall. They haphazardly make it down the stairs, Briar shrieking when he pretends to drop her.

Rounding the hall into the kitchen, Briar taps him to put her down, her eyes making their way to the three sets of big brown eyes staring back at her.

Oliver, Gus and Wynnie are sat on the kitchen floor, a big breakfast spread with beautiful bouquets of flowers behind them.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” Harry and Oliver say in unison.

Oliver is holding construction paper with 2 hand prints, and 2 paw prints in bright pink paint and blue paint. She can see where Harry’s handwriting labeled the hand prints. Papa, Oliver, Gus and Wynnie. Mother’s Day 2024.

“After breakfast, you’re gonna add your hand print,” Harry whispers, kissing her hair.

“Oh my goodness you guys,” she places her hand over her heart as she holds back tears. “Thank you so much.”

Oliver stands by her side, hugging her gently. She runs her fingers through his slight curls, and leans down to give him a gentle kiss.

“Mate, where is all the bacon I cooked?”

A look of fear washes over Oliver’s face as he points to the two dogs licking their lips.

“I tried to stop them, but Gus is too heavy for me to push over.”

Harry sighs, shaking his head. “We’ll be going out for breakfast on Father’s Day.”

“Anything for you, Daddy,” she whispers, biting his earlobe.

[werepuppy-steve]

march fic rec

a monthly fic rec series to help me work through my tbr

this month i kind of shifted all of my attention on gathering all of my tbr fics and getting them more organized, so i kind of slacked on reading. but yall get a little treat, bc this one is mostly smut 👀

<- february -> april ▸ more fic recs ▸ my ao3

Ecstatic Rituals - E, series, WIP StarsHideYourFires

tags: ancient rome au, omegaverse, ritual sex, alpha eddie, omega steve, orgy, bitching, induced heat, breeding kink

A set of AUs with one thing in common: ritual sex.

just the tip - E, 4.4k, complete twelvexclara

tags: transmasc steve, established relationship, frotting, first time bottoming

The words spill from his mouth before he even realizes he’s saying them. “You can rub against it,” he blurts out. He sucks in a breath, arms tightening around Eddie as the man stiffens against him. “I mean—you can rub against me, not it,” Steve stutters nervously, averting eye contact. Staring at the dumb fucking movie that’s still playing. Steve Harrington has never let anyone fuck him. That all changes during a movie night with Eddie Munson.

Everything and More - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: domestic fluff, 90s steddie, backyard wedding, steddielovemonth

Eddie drags his hand up to Steve’s scalp, dully scratching the way he knows he likes. “Okay, I’ll indulge,” he mutters. “If we could have a wedding, what would you want it to look like?” The smile to his bare shoulder is enough to know that it was a good question.

love is stored in a can of hairspray - T, 3.1k, complete @steveseddie | mseg_21

tags: pining, first kiss, getting together

In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the money or how it might look to Steve that he knew what hair products he uses or that he drove to another town to get them. He was only thinking about Steve’s defeated look every time someone stared at his hair or commented on it, how he self-consciously tried to fix it at work every time a customer came in, how when they hung out at his house he would hide his hair under the hood of a sweater. But now, parked in front of Steve’s house an hour before their movie night, Eddie does think about what he did- and he seriously considers leaving the bag on Steve’s doorstep and fleeing. It’s too much. It’s too ‘I have a big crush on you and I want you to be happy so bad that I drove to another town and raided the Hair and Beauty section at a store just so you can stop walking around looking like a kicked puppy’. for the prompt “love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy”

sweet little thing - E, 6/6, complete @ghosttotheparty

tags: modern au, college au, frat steve, friends with benefits, gay steve, southern eddie, autistic steve, light angst

“Steve,” Eddie repeats softly. Steve’s eyes look into his, shining like he’s already there, like he’s already floating. “If you want something, you gotta ask for it.” Steve’s eyes flutter, and he looks like he wants to let out a whine, glancing across Eddie’s face again like he’s forgotten where they are. “Fuck me,” he says weakly, and the words crawl under Eddie’s skin like they belong there. “Please. Will you please fuck me?” // or; Steve and Eddie start hooking up and it makes them both happier than it should.

Found God In A Tomato - M, 5.7k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: modern au, wrong number trope, falling in love

“You’re gonna think I’m insane," he says, instantly piquing Eddie's interest.  “Try me.”  Biting his lip, Steve reaches over and takes Eddie’s hand. He slips one of Eddie’s rings off, the plainest one, and holds it between two fingers. For a second, Eddie thinks Steve’s just gonna— put it on. Or hold his hand. Both options are appealing. But then, clearing his throat, his face changes from smug to earnest.  “Eddie,” he says, a little louder than necessary. “Will you marry me?”  Eddie’s jaw drops.

unexpected shelter (December 20, 1985, 4:52 p.m.) - T, 3.3k, complete @loveinhawkins

tags: eddie pov, character study, platonic stobin, missing scene

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

Lovesick - T, 3.1k, complete @lady-lostmind

tags: sick eddie, fluff, hurt/comfort

Eddie rolls over with a groan. He feels awful. He can’t breath out of his nose, there’s so much pressure in his head he feels like it might explode and his throat feels like he swallowed a cup of razors. He lets out a truly pathetic whimper, the sound catching in his throat as it turns into a cough. He stretches his arm out, feeling around for Steve and is met with cold, empty sheets. He whines again and finally pries his eyes open. “Stevie?”

(Just Hold me Baby) And I'm in Ecstasy - E, 2.7k, complete odderstuff

tags: dom bottom eddie, sub top steve, praise kink, breeding kink, mommy kink, friends with benefits

Eddie looks Steve up and down thoughtfully. He's flushed, cheeks turned a pretty shade of pinkish red. His eyes are a little glossy, sparklier than usual and a thin sheen of sweat is forming across his hairline. His breathing has changed, just a bit; a little shallower, a little quicker, a little hitched. He's none too subtly shifted, so that the blanket is fully covering his lap. It's a lightbulb moment for Eddie, and he grins wide when he realizes. "Oh my God. This is like a thing for you, isn't it?" _ Or: discovering one of Steve's kinks leads Eddie to some discoveries of his own.

a new kind of pretty - E, 3.5k, complete

streaksofviolet streaksofviolet

tags: established relationship, praise kink, pet names, steve in panties, top eddie, bottom steve

“They still had the tags on. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking sexy you’d look in them, baby.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Oh,” Steve practically gasps, the sound punched out of him involuntarily. “Oh.” And there’s that confusing arousal again. Or: Steve and Eddie try something new.

Is That A Tent In Your Pants, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me? - E, 10.9k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: enemies to lovers, gay steve, forced proximity, resolved sexual tension, tent sex

Eddie eyeballs him. “You want me to get naked?” “You'll get pneumonia,” Steve says, leaning towards desperate. Fuck, Robin will actually kill him if Eddie dies out here. “I’m fine.” “This is not fine, Eddie,” Steve insists. “You’ll see my dick,” Eddie hisses. “I’m not gonna look at your stupid dick, man.” “My stupid dick? Why is it stupid?” (Or, Steve and Eddie are coerced into going camping together.)

Daisies - T, 2.8k, complete @withacapitalp | towardthesun

tags: hanahaki disease, established relationship, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort

He hacked out a few more harsh sounding noises, before he spat into his open palm, taking a relieved breath as whatever was lodged in his throat came out. Eddie would’ve been relieved too, confused, but okay now that Steve was safe. And then he saw what was in Steve’s hand. A daisy. Steve had just coughed up a fucking daisy. And, judging by the completely blasé expression he had on his face as he looked down at it, this wasn’t the first time. ====== When Steve wakes up choking on flowers, Eddie thinks that it might be the end. It turns out to be just the beginning.

I've Got a Tongue Like a Razor, a Sweet Switchblade Knife - E, 2.7k, complete BuwnyBeely

tags: cockwarming, dom eddie, sub steve, dry humping, babygirl steve

Steve Harrington likes long sessions, and likes to be /used/. He'll take anything he can get. or "No, no please. Don't stop Eds, need more. Need to be full."

Bloody Knuckles - M, 4.5k, complete sage_is_soup

tags: blood kink, dry humping, bratting, praise kink, spit kink, eddie gets into a fist fight (and wins)

A phone call from Dustin leaves Steve racing to Hawkins High. Eddie Munson is in a fist fight. He'd intended to be there as support, but when things get bloody? Steve finds his thoughts leading him astray.

Strip... Flash Cards? Yeah... - E, 4.8k, complete L0udmouth

tags: sexual tension, voice kink, dry humping, stripping, teasing, top eddie, bottom steve, virgin eddie munson

Eddie's bad at studying, Steve's a horny idiot, and horny studying antics ensue.

chronically sweet - E, 3.2k, complete babyknives

tags: drug use, voyeurism, belly bulge, chrissy cunningham is a size queen

Chrissy had thought she’d known what love was. Had grown up watching her parents exchange pleasantries across the dinner table, in the entryway when her father would leave for work. A chaste kiss on the cheek, a gentle hand at the small of her mother’s back. Quiet respect, dignity, poise. Love was something shown only in small glimpses, tiny moments. Never in public. Between a couple and the good Lord. Until she met the boys.

rocket queen - E, 5.8k, complete @strangersatellites

tags: guns n' roses au, exhibitionism, top eddie, bottom steve, rockstar eddie

Steve breaks up with his shitbag drummer not-boyfriend and fucks his frontman in the studio with the mics on.

Off the Court On the Stage - E, 7.2k, complete @stevesjockstrap

tags: basketball player steve, rockstar eddie, modern au, bottom steve, top eddie, pet names, praise kink

Basketball player Steve walks into the wrong room but it works out in the end.

Idiot - G, complete @stevebabey

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

His eyes glance across to Eddie’s van, parked beside his own car, outside the trailer home in Forest Hills. Then he looks back at the trailer. He can ask. He can just go inside and ask Eddie for the lift— and explain that the reason he can’t take his own perfectly fine car is because he’s so goddamn thick between the ears that he’s locked his keys inside, like some kind of moron. The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like his father.

Eternal zero - T, 3.6k, complete @loveinhawkins

tags: canon compliant, pre-relationship, s4 missing scene, survivor's guilt

“Woah, man, take it easy—” “M’fine,” Eddie mutters. He scoffs harshly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s shaking. “This is kinda normal for me now.” His head’s still half bowed, hair falling across his face like he doesn’t want to be seen. It doesn’t stop Steve from noticing the evidence of tears on his face; he thinks they’re simply from the exertion of throwing up, but he can’t be sure. “Just—just give yourself a minute,” Steve says. “We’ve got time.”

[maokomi]

ᥫ᭡ Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

.ೃ࿔*:･ 「𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬.」 vv minimal angst with a lot of comfort, Kaeya’s inner demons hinted at but not directly confronted in this one, 2 AM depression hit my man hard rip, established relationship, soft stuff tbh, domestic fluff

Its 3 AM and the sheets feel too goddamn warm. Half-stirred back to consciousness by the sudden heat, you reach back over to Kaeya’s side of the bed, grabby fingers poised to drag him into an cool embrace—

Only to be met with empty space.

Half asleep, you grunt in dissatisfaction as you root around a bit more, but as your brain slowly stirs more and more to life, you realize that Kaeya’s not in bed.

You can’t help the seed of worry that plants itself in your mind. So, biting the inside of your cheek you hurriedly getting out of bed, eager to leave behind the suffocating warmth of the comforter, and find Kaeya.

Luckily you needn’t go far— you find the vision holder in your kitchen-slash-dining room, leaned back in a chair, staring solemnly at the icy-blue vision that blinks back up at him from your dining table.

“Kaeya,” you call to him when you see him, relief making you sag. Your voice is soft and hoarse in the early morning hour but Kaeya still shakes himself out of his daze to turn to you.

The worry immediately returns when you see the plastered, practiced little smile on his face and the distant look in his eye.

“Hey,” he calls back just as softly, beckoning you to approach. You do. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t sleep without me?”

His weariness only makes itself more known the closer you get. The bags under his eyes (eye?) the sallowness in his skin and how his lips are dry and cracked from him worrying them. You glance at the vision on the table before flicking back to him.

“Yeah, actually. The bed got too hot without you,” you settle on instead.

“I told you we didn’t need that incredibly thick comforter, darling.”

His small smile is the littlest bit more genuine, thankfully.

“Yeah, well, I like the weight, so sue me,” you playfully stick your tongue out at him, interlacing you fingers and delighting in his low laughter. 

But there’s still something so exhausted in his gaze— something you know that doesn’t disappear with a good night’s rest. It’s not your first time seeing it, but Kaeya doesn’t often let people see his inner turmoil like this. Not even you.

You’re lost on what to do, unsure if he’d prefer to be left to his thoughts or if he’d want your company, even if just to know he wasn’t alone in this house. It’s the faint grumble of his stomach that decides for you, though, and before long you’re pressing a kiss to his forehead —“I’ll make something for us to eat.”— and heading to the stove to prepare the tastiest 2 AM breakfast you can.

“You… you don’t have to,” Kaeya says behind you, protesting like you didn’t literally hear his stomach grumble less than a meter away. “I’m not even that hungry, really. There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

“Well, I’m hungry,” you tell him, flashing him a grin over your shoulder as you put all your ingredients on the counter. Some meat, carrots, bell peppers and tomato sauce, among other things. Decidedly, you begin hunting in the cabinet for a pot and a ladle. “If you’re not that’s fine, you don’t have to.”

Kaeya doesn’t protest much after that, merely falling silent once more at the table. As you cook, you stay silent too, not wanting to pressure or push him, but letting your constant movement and the harmony of the kitchen remind him that you’re there with him.

He’ll talk to you when he’s ready. If he ever wants to talk about it, you’ll be there to listen. No matter how long it may take, you think to yourself, cutting the peppers, carrots and meat to toss them into the brewing pot. The soup bubbles happily over the fire, engulfing the kitchen in a delicious scent.

It takes a while but when it finally seems finished you turn off the heat and scoop it carefully into a bowl, making sure to get lots of the good bits in it. “Do you mind if I sit?” You ask, and as soon as he gives you a nod, you’re planting yourself and your bowl of fresh Goulash across from him at the dining table. 

Kaeya still looks distant as you down the first spoonful of soup, but you mentally pat yourself on the back because damn that’s a damn good Goulash right there.

He’s a little surprised when he sees the bowl and a spoon pushed into his line of vision, though. 

“Have some,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat a bit. “It’s really good, and going very long on an empty stomach isn’t good for you, you know.”

Kaeya chuckles, but doesn’t bother to protest. He just gratefully eats one spoon, feeling the flavors envelop his tongue and the warmth travel all the way down his throat into his stomach, like wrapping him in a blanket from the inside out.

“I’m impressed,” he says, smiling at you. You smile back. “‘Pretty good’ is an understatement.”

“Have some more, then.”

And he does. He eats spoonful after spoonful, letting the warm, homemade soup settle in him, and chase away the chill that’s settled in his bones over the last few hours. Before he even notices it, the bowl is empty and Kaeya is feeling at least a bit better than before.

You look happy though —even if he’s essentially stolen your meal— if the way you smile contentedly at him is anything to go by. Wordlessly, you take the bowl and head back to the pot, ready to get him another serving.

Just as you’re spooning some diced tomatoes into the bowl, Kaeya speaks up behind you. 

“You deserve someone better than me.”

It doesn’t even sound like he’s saying it to you. Just like he’s speaking his mind, letting Like this is just one of the many thoughts that had managed to slip past his lips.  Like he wholeheartedly believes it.

Your hand stills for a moment, eyes blinking as you try to process what he just said. There’s a slight furrow to your brow, but you go back to scooping soup back into the bowl nonetheless. When you next speak, your voice is even. 

“Hm. Don’t I get a say in it, though? Isn’t it up to me to decide what I deserve?”

Kaeya doesn’t say anything, and when you turn to head back to the table, his eyes are glued on you. 

Gently, you slide the bowl over to him once again, the look in your eyes still so soft and patient that Kaeya thinks his heart is both ripping at the seams and mending itself at the same time. “You make me happy, Kaeya. You. In the end, all I really want is to be with you.”

And he might not fully believe it now, might still have trouble overcoming the loneliness and the troubles that have followed him all his life, but that’s alright. Because you will always be there to hold his hand, time and time again.

“I love you,” is what Kaeya finally says, after staring long and deep into the bowl of goulash. He sounds the slightest bit choked up, but you pretend not to notice.

Your hand finds his across the table, interlacing your fingers easily. “I love you too. Now eat up— you and I are way overdue for some cuddles.”