#anyway all i do is put her thoughts to words

[meamiiikiii]

mira !!! :]

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Not Dead Yet | Part 01

-> Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Medium-Fem!Reader

-> Sypnosis: After a strange encounter, Jeonghan wakes up outside of his body. The only person who can see him is Y/N, a woman with a gift (or curse as she would call it) who is able to see and communicate with the deceased. But Jeonghan isn't dead... not yet anyway.

-> Warnings: Supernatural au. There is a mention of God's and collapsing. Jeonghan is a bit of a heart breaker/player. Only mentioned once that reader has dark hair. This was going to be just a prologue but it ended up a chapter.

-> Word Count: 1,605

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Not Dead Yet Masterlist | SEVENTEEN M.List

As Jeonghan walks with Ji-Ah, the woman he’s been seeing for the last three weeks, alongside the Han River, he takes this moment to do what he’s been trying to do all night. He drops her hand as he stops walking and turns to face the river, his arms resting on the railing. Ji-Ah notices the shift in the atmosphere as soon as Jeonghan lets go of her hand. The warmth of his touch is replaced by a sudden chill in the air. With concern, she turns to face him but before she could say anything, he starts to speak.  

“Ji-Ah,” he begins, his voice feigning regret. “I’m sorry, this just isn't working for me.”   

“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve only just started getting to know each other.”  

He can hear the hurt in her voice but he feels no sympathy. “Listen, Ji-Ah,” he continues, starting his well-rehearsed go-to break up speech, “You’re an incredible woman. It’s just that I don’t think we’re a good match. I’m sure there’s someone wonderful out there for you. I just don’t think I’m that person.” 

“But it’s my birthday,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she fights back tears. 

"Aish," he mutters under his breath, recalling the reason they had gone out for dinner in the first place. For a fleeting moment, he feels a pang of guilt but quickly suppresses it. 

“I thought we had something special,” she sobs, unable to contain her tears any longer.  

"It's only been three weeks," he blurts out, not realizing the words had escaped him until he sees her expression, a mix of hurt and disbelief with tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Do you even care?” Ji-Ah’s voice is barely above a whisper as it cuts through her cries.  

“Of course I care,” he says looking at her with faux sympathy and feeling slightly awkward that this wasn’t ending as quickly as he hoped. After all, they’d only been on four dates in the span of three weeks. According to him, that wasn’t a long enough time to get attached to someone. “I’m doing this because I care about you. I don’t want to waste your time on something that’s never going to work out. This way, you can find someone who truly deserves you and is worth your time.” 

“So, this is it?” she asks wiping her tears away. 

“I’m afraid so,” he nods.  

“Okay,” she says trying to put on a brave face and forget the embarrassment and hurt that’s coursing through her. “Thank you for making my birthday awful. I hope I never see you again.” 

“I hope so too,” he says, his words once again slipping out before he could stop them.  

“Maybe you’re right,” she concedes, her expression taking on one of offence. “This wouldn’t have worked out because you’re an asshole. I feel sorry for your next girlfriend.” With that she walks away deliberately bumping her shoulder against him as she passes. 

He grumbles to himself about how that could have gone a lot quicker and pulls out his phone, finding the number of the woman he met the day before and quickly sends her a text 'plans fell through. Do you want to meet up in 30 minutes?'.  

With a smile on his face, he makes his way back towards where his car is parked occasionally checking his phone for a reply. As he reaches his car, he finds a strange man wearing a black top hat, a bright orange suede jacket and horrendous green pants leaning against the tailgate. His expression is blank, not giving Jeonghan any indication of what his motives could be, but his deep brown eyes are fixed intently on him making Jeonghan feel like he was looking right into his soul. 

"Can I help you?" he asks the man with a hint of annoyance.  

"When are you going to stop breaking these lovely ladies' hearts?" the man replies, his voice calm and steady. "Yoon Jeonghan.” 

"Do I know you?" He asks, his eyes widening slightly. He’s 99% sure he’s never seen this man before this moment. 

“You don’t, but I’ve been watching you,” he replies, moving away from the car and steps closer to him. The man’s gaze remains steady, and Jeonghan feels a shiver run down his spine. There’s something unsettling about the way this stranger seems to know him. It’s as if he’s been examined under a microscope.  

Jeonghan shifts his weight, attempting to shake off the sudden wave of vulnerability that washes over him. "Look, I don’t know who you are or how you think you know me, but I’m not interested in whatever you have to say." 

The stranger chuckles softly, a sound that feels oddly out of place given the tension in the air. "Oh, but you should be, Yoon Jeonghan. I’m not here to lecture you on your romantic escapades. In fact, I’m here to give you a warning." 

“A warning?” Jeonghan furrows his brow, trying to make sense of the cryptic words. The man’s presence is unsettling, and the way he speaks feels almost as if he’s reciting lines from a play or a movie. “What warning? And how can I trust you? I don’t even know your name.”  

“You don’t need to know my name right now,” the man tells him. “The only person who will be able to see you will know my name and that’s when you’ll learn it.” 

"I really don’t have time for this," Jeonghan sighs, shaking his head as he goes to take a step past him to get into his car. "I have plans that I need to get to.” 

"Plans, you say?” The man says, tilting his head slightly, as if considering Jeonghan’s words. “I’m afraid the only plans you have are with the Gods.” 

Caught by surprise, Jeonghan turns back to the man, confusion written on his face. “The Gods? I don-” 

“Oops,” the man winces as he clicks his fingers and Jeonghan collapses to the ground unconscious. “Probably should have given him a heads-up first,” he says and then shrugs before walking away. “I did try to warn him.” 

When jeonghan finally regains awareness, he sits up and finds himself in a hospital room. The faint beeping of machines that monitor his vitals, rings loudly in his ears, the smell of antiseptic fills his nostrils and the fluorescent lights are harsh against his eyes. Before he could panic about how he ended up in hospital, the man from earlier enters his mind. The stranger’s words echo inside his head, a haunting reminder of the bizarre encounter they had and the warning he tried to give him. 

Wanting to find a nurse or doctor so he could get discharged knowing there can't be anything wrong with him, he gets out of bed and makes his way to the door.  

As he exits the room, a nurse walks by. He tries to get her attention by calling to her but she continues as if she doesn't hear him. Thinking she was being rude. He tries again as another nurse walks past him but she too ignores him. 

"Excuse me!" Jeonghan raises his voice, desperation slowly sinking into his tone. "Can someone please help me? I want to go home."  

But the nurses and other hospital staff continue past him, their expressions blank. It's as if he’s nothing more than a ghost haunting the halls of the hospital.  

Frustration bubbles within him, and he takes a step forward, determined to find someone who will acknowledge his presence. The fluorescent lights hum overhead and his heart races as he wanders down the corridor. He glances into the rooms he passes, catching glimpses of patients lying in beds, some asleep, some having visits with family members and others staring blankly at the ceiling with nothing else to do. 

Finally, he spots a doctor in a white coat, clipboard in hand, walking briskly toward him. Jeonghan rushes to intercept him. "Excuse me! Can you help me? I need to know what happened to me," he pleads, his voice tinged with urgency. But just like the nurses, the doctor brushes past him as if he were invisible.  

Feeling confused and overwhelmed, Jeonghan sinks into a chair meant for waiting families. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, mumbling to himself.  

Eventually he lifts his head, glancing around the waiting area. The chairs are filled with families, most of their faces etched with worry or relief, some with boredom, but none of them seem to notice him. The weight of everything that’s happening starts to get to him, and he fights back the urge to scream and demand for someone to see him. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands up, a spark of determination igniting within him. Just as he prepares to approach the doctor at the nurse's station, the elevator doors across from him slide open. His heart races as he sees a figure step out, exuding a warmth and confidence that draws him in. Her dark hair is slightly tousled, as if she just rolled out of bed, and her outfit—a black faux leather jacket, a white shirt, ripped jeans, and white sneakers—makes him think she’s not part of the hospital staff. 

Before he can make another move, she looks up, their eyes connecting, and for the first time since waking up, he feels truly seen and is reminded of what the odd man from earlier said. 

“The only person who will be able to see you will know my name.” 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

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[fraugwinska]

Giveaway 2nd Prize Winner Piece

Hello my loves! Our darling @lil-glum, who won myy 2nd prize in the 1k Follower giveaway, has graciously allowed me to share the finished piece with you all! It was a delight to work with her - and her ideas were so good that writing this felt less like work and all the more like a treat! <3 So much so that I, in fact, went a bit overboard with the word count! ;> As usual: Minors DNI or I'll curse you to always have moist socks!

Paint the Town Red

For weeks now, Alastor had stalked out that little human like a vulture, circling high above the oblivious prey and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Revisiting the living world should've been a glorious occasion, since summonings were becoming so rare nowadays, but that moron who dared to call on him hadn't been worth his while - but she was.

Luck and curse had it that he didn't have to return to hell right after the laughably one-sided deal was striked, leaving him time enough to put a little glamor on to stroll around town in his earthly disguise, freshly brewed coffee in hand, and see what humanity had been up to since his demise. The world had become frivolous, no class at all, and Alastor had felt at ease knowing that he had lived at the peak of culture and manners, never to be bettered.

And then she ran into him. Deeply immersed in a book - not those audacious electronic devices people put their nose in every waking hour - she'd rounded the corner while Alastor gawked around, lost to the world captured on the yellowed pages. A head full of red, silky locks had bumped into his chest and the book as well as his coffee dropped, the former to be saved by his quick reflexes. A simple flick of his wrist, and the book was back in her hand, while his cup of java laid spilled in a muddy puddle between their feet.

"Oh! Oh no - I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention!" she'd said, pushing her glasses back her nose as she smiled up to him apologetically, and when Alastor met her eyes, something shifted. And just like that, the hunt was on.

"No harm done, darling. The coffee was poorly done anyway."

Since time was running out, he turned up his charm to at least get the girl's name and maybe another meeting out of the encounter, already planning on ways to return. Thankfully, she'd given it all too gladly, and promised to invite him for coffee as an apology for the spilled one. He'd taken the sound of her name into his hands like the greatest treasure, repeating it over and over in his mind as he was being dragged back to the afterlife tasting each vowel and consonant. Hunting down an indebted incubus and acquiring its asmodean crystal had been as easy as working out how to use it. And oh - did he use it.

His absence from his duties in the hotel became more and more obvious, but Alastor couldn't stop himself. It wasn't even the thrill of the chase that kept him going. Every time he saw her, it was as if her mere presence called out to an unknown part of him, as if her voice was a siren's call, as if her scent was a drug created just for him. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about her: The delightful way she laughed at his quips. The elegant way she spoke about her interests. The way she brushed her fiery hair back over her shoulder when she was nervous…

Alastor wanted it all, and he wanted her.

"Alastor, are you listening at all?" she smiled at him, pulling him out of his raging thoughts.

"My apologies, dear, I was merely...distracted. Please do repeat yourself." he cleared his throat and gave her a wide grin. The abandoned park they walked in was tinted in oranges, greens and browns, little specks of autumn's palette so becoming to her complexion.

"I was saying that I don't really feel like going back home yet. How about we take a detour - explore a little?" she proposed, pointing down to a small trail that led away from the main road, lined with trees and shrubbery, "There's supposed to be a pond around there, and I think it would be nice to enjoy your company a little longer."

Alastors ears perked up and his smile widened, threatening to mirror the one he always wore down in hell. She wanted to be alone with him, far away from prying eyes - that wonderful, naive thing.

"That sounds delightful, my dearest - lead the way!"

His mind was running wild with possibilities as he followed her down the path, watching her red locks bounce as she hopped down the sloping ground. How much she trusted him was as endearing as it was thrilling, and the urge to reach out and take her by the arm to pull her into his own grew with every step he took, the demon in him aching for a taste of her. He wasn't one to rush good things, and he wanted to enjoy this, make it last as long as he could, savor every moment of the inevitable fall.

She was chattering away happily, unaware of the obsessive way he watched her. Her hips swayed hypnotically, the hem of her wool skirt grazing her thighs ever so slightly, and Alastor wondered if the flush of her cheeks from the cool autumn air would be found elsewhere on her delectable body, too. He knew he had to control himself, but with his desire burning hot like the flames of his true home, Alastor struggled.

Finally, they reached the small pond and she turned around to him, beaming with accomplishment. The sight of it, of her prideful smile and trusting eyes so enthrallingly focused on him was too much, and whatever she was about to say was swallowed by his lips crashing into hers. His gloved hands held her face firmly as he pushed her against a tree, the bark scratching into the back of her coat. He had wanted this for so long, the feeling of her soft lips moving against his, her hands clawing at his shoulders, indecisive on whether to pull him closer or push him away. She gasped into the kiss and Alastor took the chance to push his tongue inside, swallowing her moan as apparently made up her mind, tugging at his coat as he finally devoured her.

It was entirely, decidedly too much: The warmth of her, the taste, the touches, the sounds, he couldn't get enough of it, couldn't get close enough. With ferocity, he got rid of every offending layer of obstructive clothing, reveling in the way she breathed his name, pleading to the deity that couldn't care for mercy and to him to ruin her. And he gladly granted her wish, benevolent as he was, his lips trailing down her neck, teeth nipping at her collarbone, tongue laving over her exposed breasts as his hands stroked up her legs, fingers disappearing under her skirt to brush against her core.

"Please, Alastor - oh!" she whimpered when he pushed a finger inside her wet cunt, the tight heat making him growl in approval. He wanted her to beg, he wanted her to cry, wanted her to break down before him and ask him for salvation. His glamor flickered, struggling to hold against the loss of control.

"Look at you, my dear, so eager, so wanting," he crooned as he pushed another finger inside her, watching her back arch from the tree, her body seeking out his hands like a magnetic pull. Brown hair slowly turned red, antlers sprouting from its crown, his modest gray coat faded into his signature crimson pinstriped frock, and she gasped into his hungry mouth as he let the grip on his magic go and revealed himself completely as the demonic overlord that he was. Alastor, the Radio Demon, laughed, licking along her jaw as he slowly increased the pace of his claws, earning another sweet sound of shocked pleasure from his little, confused human.

“Don’t let my true form deceive you, my darling - No matter what happens… I’ll make sure you see heaven.”

[belle-rosse]

I think wayyyy too much about the scene in s1x07 where Vi and Cait try to save each other from Jinx’s attack, and maybe simple thoughts have turned into a meaningless analysis. I’ll share it anyway.

The way Vi and Caitlyn try to protect each other in this scene perfectly reflects how they were raised, and I think it even works as foreshadowing for the scene in the rain.

Let’s focus on Vi first. The core part of her identity since she was a child has been to protect, which we see from the way she shields Powder from the horrifying sight on the bridge in the very first minute of the first episode, up to this very moment. Vi has a specific way of carrying out this protection. Unlike when she's on her own, Vi doesn’t jump straight into a fight—she first moves the person she wants to protect away from danger, then faces the battle entirely alone. Here, she follows the same process: her first impulse is to shield Caitlyn by pushing her out of the weapon’s range, not caring about her own safety. She only takes cover after making sure that no one can hurt Cait. This is Vi’s impulsive nature at its peak, as well as her absolute loyalty.

Now, with Caitlyn, there’s more to discuss. Caitlyn has been protected her entire life, shielded behind her parents and her last name. This sense of security has made Caitlyn a rebel, someone who pushes the boundaries of that protection (while following certain rules), but it also makes her very naive. Caitlyn doesn’t truly know the dangers of the world. Even though she tries to project confidence, she had never stepped on the other side of the bridge before. That’s why I believe her decision to step in front of Vi as a shield while also trying to protect herself with her arm is a pure act but rooted in ignorance. Caitlyn jumps into danger to keep Vi safe, but even if she managed to avoid the impact of one bullet, there would be more. Most likely, if Vi hadn’t pushed her, they both would’ve ended up hurt. This is Caitlyn’s identity: unlike Vi, she protects others by getting close, giving all of herself to push the problem away rather than fighting it alone. What she doesn’t realize is that, even when she has meticulously structured plans, some problems can’t be solved with one-sided diplomacy. Caitlyn is pure and well-intentioned but lacks a survival instinct due to her upbringing.

Now, why do I say this works as foreshadowing for their breakup in the rain? Simple—except for the weapons and general violence, it’s essentially the same scene.

Vi and Caitlyn face a problem that involves both of them, and in order to protect the other, they resort to the same methods I mentioned before.

Vi assumes that she’s the problem, that her anger with the council and Piltover in general will cost Caitlyn her well-being. So, what does she do? She leaves her in the middle of the rain, saying words she wishes weren’t true, hurting herself in the process just to make sure Caitlyn won’t try to find her. Throughout this scene, Vi refuses to look at her, because if she sees her sadness, she’ll likely give in and end up putting her in danger. After pushing her away again, Vi decides to confront (though with Jayce this time, not entirely alone) Silco’s industry, once more jumping into the fight only after ensuring the safety of the one she loves.

But Caitlyn doesn’t know this. She sees Vi’s actions as an abrupt and ungrounded change. “Why is Vi leaving?” must be her only thought, and in response, she tries to offer solutions they can face together because she’s unaware of what they’re really up against. She tries to get close to Vi several times, both in her words and her body language. Everything in her is pleading for the Zaunite to stay, to explain what’s happening so they can work together and share the weight of the problems. In the end, it doesn’t work, and respecting Vi’s boundaries, she lets her go. Though it doesn’t stop her, and that’s how we get her scene in the shower, thinking of the alternatives to that encounter.

I warned y’all that this would be a meaningless analysis, but I love and miss Caitvi too much to stay silent about them. Also, I adore episode seven.

[qveerthe0ry]

What Means to You, What Means to Me

Summary: Max Phillips changes everything. Written for @perotovar 's offering of Frith Word Count: 8,046 Pairing: Max Phillips Loki (The Trickster God of mischief and chaos) x afab! NB! Bisexual! Reader Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: smut, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, GENERAL GENDER FUCKERY Beta: My sweet angel @for-a-longlongtime of course A/N: Under the cut

Author's Note: First of all, I just want to thank Erin for putting together this writing challenge and sharing SO much about Norse Paganism. The effort you put into this, from the moodboards to educational resources is incredible. And the fact that you've shared something so close to you with all of us made this writing challenge feel like getting a warm hug <3

Second, see the author's note I wrote at the end (as to not spoil the story) if you want to know the ways Loki ingrained himself in this fic.

_

You’ve heard of this queer club before, but you’ve never been inside. You’d thought the descriptors were exaggerations, but you find out quickly that you were wrong. 

Security is tight at the door, and they ask you questions as they scan your ID that sound like small talk but are a bit more probing once you think about it. Your pockets are patted down and you walk through a metal detector before you even breach the front door. 

You’re wondering if it’s even worth all this. You’re by yourself, no one’s meeting you here, and you don’t plan on going home with anyone. 

Really, you’re just bored, in a fairly new city with no one familiar but your new co-workers to converse with; those are the last people you want to be around on a Friday night after a long work week. 

So you’re here. Are there a dozen other queer bars you could have gone to on this rainbow-lined street? Yes. But none of them really feel right. So you’re here, finally in clothes that you feel comfortable in, around people who aren’t going to make you feel uncomfortable in them. 

And its reputation precedes itself. 

Gaudy. Over-the-top. 

There’s three floors, the top two cut out to overlook the dance floor in the middle of the ground level. There’s chandeliers everywhere, far too ornate for a fucking nightclub. Candelabras litter every tabletop with flaming wax that you’re sure is a fire hazard in an establishment like this. There’s fuzzy, cozy-looking lounges and really hot people walking around serving complimentary waters on gold trays and maybe it was a mistake, coming here. 

But you’ve already been through the TSA of nightclubs, and so you might as well grab a drink while you’re here and make the uber ride home worth it. 

At least the drinks seem to be cheap. You take too long staring at the specialty cocktail names when a bartender asks how you’re doing, and end up ordering your favorite drink anyways. At least they seem nice, unlike some of the bars you’ve been to at the not-mandatory-but-suggestively-obligatory happy hours after work. 

You sit at the bar, a little intimidated by the fancy decor and skilled dancers that overwhelm the club. 

The music is unsuspecting, something soft and melodic that you only realize is live music when your eyes settle on her. 

Her fiery red hair cascades down her shoulders, igniting all the skin exposed by her backless dress. She’s sitting at the piano in the middle of the dancefloor, obscured by couples and others dancing around her. 

She’s everything. The most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her nose is strong and her jawline juts and contrasts with those soft brown eyes. You’re yearning before you can even realize it, a kind of consumption that leaves you breathing heavier than normal as you sip your drink probably way too quickly. 

You focus on her long, nimble fingers, painted red at the nails and fluttering so skillfully over the ivory keys that it makes your cheeks feel hot. 

The ringing of the keys doesn't register over the thumping of your heart and the blood rushing in your ears, which feel like molten lava. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice she’d finished her set until she’s a foot away from you, placing an order you’d only know if you were able to read lips.

Christ, her lips. Plump and painted in the same shade of red as her hair and nails, they purse as she sips from a champagne flute. She’s so dainty, and poised, everything you’ve never had the desire to be. 

And she’s staring right at you. 

“See something you like?” 

Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and your heart flutters in a medically dangerous way. 

“You’re incredible.”

The words roll off your tongue without any go-ahead from your brain. 

She laughs anyway, with her head thrown back, and the sight of her throat elongated makes your own go bone-dry. 

“If I had a nickel,” she jokes with a wink. 

Your half-melted brain scrabbles for something to say so you can be graced with her presence for even one more second. 

“How long have you been playing?” 

She quirks her perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, and she smirks, and something about the way she can see through you like cellophane turns you on and it makes you feel wicked. 

“You don’t really care, do you?” 

From your peripheral, you see her long, toned arm inching closer to yours on the bar. Her fingers touch yours, feather-light, and you shiver before you freeze in place. 

“I— No, I do.”

You can barely hear her low chuckle over the house music that’s started to play in her absence, but you do, and it sounds like heaven and hell all at once. 

Slowly, torturously, she leans closer to you, and her bubbly breath ghosts across your cheek, your jaw, and then gusts in your ear. 

“Don’t lie to me, handsome.” 

Her tone is teasing, sing-songy in a way that might be annoying if you weren’t so aroused. 

Your fingers clench around the glass you’re holding, and her own do the same over yours. 

“What do you want me to say?” 

You don’t know if you’re more scared, horny, or irritated. They’re all three tied for gold, at this point, with tipsy coming in second and way too warm bringing up the rear. 

And the pure audacity this woman has is impressive, as she places her lips so so lightly under your earlobe. You hope to god her lipstick stains. 

“Ask me if I wanna get out of here.”

Your lungs inflate too quickly, and your eyes close, and you lean into the touch of her lips. 

“Where would we go?” 

It’s a stupid question. Why in your right mind do you give a flying fuck? She could drag you to the DMV and you’d happily follow like a pup. 

She stands from the barstool, tall, taller than you realized, and the proximity puts her between your spread legs. 

Your thighs flex involuntarily, and your fingers twitch and ache to touch her. 

“I know a place. If you want?” 

Her eyebrow is quirked at you again as she leans back. You can’t find your words, so you stand in answer, and now you’re too close. Every delicious curve of her body is pressed against your front and you unhand your drink to dig your nails into the top of the bar. 

“Please.” 

Her grin is so mischievous that it startles you, those sharp canines on full display. You think about how they’ll feel against your skin as she nods her head and prompts you to follow her. 

You might as well be wearing a leash, the way you trail her so closely. You twist your fingers as the nerves start to pick back up, and all of a sudden you’re in front of some elevator doors with a very huge and intimidating bouncer guarding the buttons and staring you down. 

“Before we head up, just so you know, I’m working with a… different set of equipment than you might expect.”

You nearly ask her to repeat herself, a bit too overwhelmed with the eyes on you and the situation you’re about to get yourself into. But your brain plays a game of catch-up, and somehow this little fact makes you feel more comfortable. 

“That’s cool— me too. I mean, maybe? I don’t know what— uh, what you’d expect me to have, but… yeah.”

Your voice trails off as the big burly bouncer chuckles at you, and your face could probably melt off of your skull with how hot it feels, but then she grabs your hand and squeezes to tug you into the elevator with her. 

The club sounds are nearly all drowned out now, and you’re certain she can hear your heartbeat in the silence as she crowds you against the back wall. 

“My name’s Max,” she says, speaking all breathy and low against the skin of your neck. 

You shiver, barely eke out your own name as her body presses against yours. 

It’s heavenly, the way she feels against you, but the way she teases your earlobe between her dark cherry lips feels hellish. You still haven’t touched her, even though your hands are burning to feel the silk of her dress over her waist. You’re intimidated and horny and mentally working yourself up to do anything on your own without her giving you direct orders.

There’s a ding, and all momentum is lost when she turns away from you to enter the snow globe of a penthouse beyond the open elevator doors. You follow eagerly.

“This is your place?” 

Your voice is awe-filled as you look around. The walls are just windows, and the city lights and the last few minutes of sunset brighten all the dark wood and leather around you. 

“Yeah, so’s the club.”

Her tone is nonchalant, and you gape at her as she steps out of her strappy, expensive-looking high heels. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised. She has all the confidence of someone who owns the world, and her cockiness is reflected in the ostentatious nature of the club and her penthouse. 

But you’re still shocked. Maybe you’re shocked because she’s chosen you, out of every other patron, to come up here with her. 

“It’s nice— the club. And here, too.” 

She chuckles and shrugs but she thanks you as her bare feet bring her close to you once more. You feel your hackles raise as she approaches, along with your heart rate, but she walks right past you. 

“Follow me.”

As if you’d dream of doing anything else. 

Her bedroom is all windows, too. The bed is huge, much bigger than a normal king, and the space itself is fairly empty of any personal touches. It suits her mystique. You feel like you have a million unanswered questions, but none of them matter when she shoves you down onto the mattress and straddles your thighs. 

Your mouth drops open, but she steals the words from your breath when she grabs your hands and places them on her hips.

Finally. 

Fuck, she feels incredible under this silky dress as you squeeze her waist and arch your hips up into her. 

You tell her as much, and get another one of those cocky chuckles that goes straight to your center. 

“Do your worst, handsome.” 

And maybe you’ve never been the best at getting into someone’s bed, but you’re certain you’re the best once you’re between the sheets. 

It’s no exception, with her. You’re so eager to please. You worship every last inch of her body once it’s revealed to you. You take note of all the places you kiss and lick that make her breath hitch, you tease her until her cock weeps, and you take her so far down your throat that tears sting your eyes. 

Her nails dig into your scalp, and you feel like the cocky one when she begs you to pull off, when she tells you that you’ve damn near sucked her soul out through her dick. 

Your clit is throbbing and you’ve soaked through your underwear by the time she hastily pulls them off of you. She kisses you breathless and bites your lip with her sharp teeth as you roll the condom down her length. The way she whimpers when you finally straddle her sends you reeling. Your hand finds her tit, and your palm rolls against her taut nipple as you finally get her cock to slide through your slick folds. She arches into your touch and she begs and there’s no force powerful enough to keep you from giving in to her pleas.

Her face twists up so fucking beautifully as you impale yourself on her. Inch by inch, so slowly, teasing her like she’d teased you earlier in the night. You feel satisfied and hungry at the same time when you’re flush with her thighs. Her hips buck when you pinch her nipple, and she hits the perfect spot, and neither of you have any resolve leftover. 

It’s a give and take that lasts too long and is over far too quick. You ride her, and she thrusts up into you, back and forth until you both crumble at the same time, blinding and intense and loud. 

You might black out. 

One moment you’re stroking her skin with your fingertips and thanking her over and over, and the next you’re sitting up against her headboard with a glass of water in one hand and her fiery hair in the other. 

She’s sighing in your lap, nuzzling into the heat of your thighs with her aquiline nose. 

“You’re incredible,” you say for probably the millionth time that night. 

She chuckles again, just like she did when you first told her, but her pretty brown eyes shine when she looks up at you. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Your face gets all hot again, and you feel shy, eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but the gorgeous woman resting on you. 

“Does it bother you when I call you that?” 

You huff. 

“Not at all.”

“Are you trans?” 

You huff again. 

“No. I— I don’t know. I’m just… me. In-between. I don’t really feel like I fit any one description.”

She hums and presses a kiss to your mound through your underwear.

“I understand.” 

“I’ve always been like this, you know? Before I knew what it was. I just didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Not in an insecure way. Just that it didn’t feel right.” 

“Do you want a dick?”

Her bluntness makes you laugh. 

“Sometimes I do.”

She nods, and the way her silky hair feels against your bare thighs makes you shiver. 

“It’s actually kind of awesome, I’m not gonna lie.”

She laughs with you. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“I’ll rub it in if you give me another five minutes.”

She does.

You fall asleep in her arms, exhausted and sated and happy.

She’s gone in the morning. All the shades are drawn, those same hazardous candles from the club lighting the apartment dimly. Your clothes are dry cleaned and hanging in a bag you’re certain costs more than your entire outfit. There’s a note next to your half-empty glass of water on the nightstand.

See you around. 

Except you don’t. 

You wait eight whole days to go back to the club. You wear something nicer, go through the tight security, and saunter up to the bar with much more confidence than your first visit. You wait for her. You drink one too many and hope to find her walking around or playing the piano. 

A few people come up to you and ask you to dance, and you refuse each one with the bitter taste of irony on your tongue, and then you go home alone after last call with a headache and queasy stomach. 

Maybe she’s just out of town, you tell yourself. She owns an entire nightclub, she’s clearly a very important woman, probably quite busy, too. 

You go back the next weekend, and the next, and you don’t see her once. 

So after a month, you go again and this time you accept the offers to share a dance, grind against people with a weird confidence you know comes from the woman you hope to see tonight. You share meaningless kisses and buy a few people drinks but refuse an offer or two to ‘get out of here.’

You start to lose hope when the dim lights flicker brighter and last call is announced. But as you bid goodbyes to a group you were hanging with, that very large and scary bodyguard from the elevators is walking towards you, and this time his presence is more exciting and less intimidating. 

“Max would like you to come upstairs.”

And while it’s kind of annoying, and seems pretentious— why didn’t she come down here and tell you herself?— you follow. Eagerly. Once again. 

He lets you take the elevator up by yourself, and this time the anxiety is more anticipation than it is fear. 

Though, when the doors open, you’re face to face with a guy.

He’s got a familiar cocky smirk on his face, messy gelled hair, and he’s leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed. 

Panic, is what your body tells you to do, leave, run. But you’re frozen under his thick gaze. 

The elevator doors start to shut, and you take a step back when he moves to hold them open, but he chuckles. 

A cocky little chuckle. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Max.”

“No you’re not.”

“C’mon, handsome. It’s me.”

You shiver when he calls you that, but not in the same way you did when she said it. 

“Is this some kind of joke? Listen, she didn’t tell me she was exclusive with anyone—”

He cuts you off by saying your name in a pleading tone. 

“Come in, please, just give me a minute to prove it to you.”

Panic. Run. Leave.

You ignore every instinct to finally step out of the elevator. 

“You told me, last time, that sometimes you wished you had a dick. Right?”

You nod before you can think better of it. 

Who is this guy?

You’re no stranger to genderfluidity, the way a haircut or makeup or different clothes can drastically change someone’s look— but this isn’t that. This can’t be that. While they have similar features, her sharp noise was still softer, her eyes were less crinkled at the edges, her brow bone was much less prominent. If this is smoke and mirrors, she’s one hell of a magician. 

“Do you wish you had one right now?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. Are you guys twins or something? What’s going on?” 

He chuckles again, and you have to say, it’s much less arousing coming from him than it was from your Max. He reaches out to touch your arm, and you want to shove him away, but you can’t.

Your body feels frozen, again, but not from fear. There’s a strange sensation that courses through you, some unexplainable energy that makes your bones feel like they’re vibrating, makes your blood feel thick and heavy in your veins. 

It scares you, but the newly soft look on this Max’s face is just comforting enough to keep you from a full-fledged panic attack. 

That, and the fact that it’s over just as quick as it started. Your body loosens back up as Max’s hand on your arm rubs reassuring circles. 

But then you feel weird. A strange turning low in your gut, kind of like arousal, but not quite. And your pants feel tighter, more constricting than they did earlier. 

You look down. 

There’s a bulge in your pants, like there would be if you were packing. But you’re not. You’re certain you made the decision to leave it at home when you left earlier in the night. 

You look back up at him. He’s smirking. 

“You can touch it.”

You do, despite your brain screaming how weird it would be to touch your crotch in front of a man you’ve never met before. 

You have a dick. 

You feel it now, and while the feeling of it in your hand isn’t foreign to you, the fact that it’s sensitive and fucking actually attached to your body is. 

You pull your hand away like it’s been scalded. 

“What the fuck?! How did you—“

You stare at him open-mouthed and terrified and maybe a little bit turned on.

“Does it matter? I gave you what you’ve always wanted.” 

He looks from your face to your… dick, and back again, smirking, admiring, like he’s just finished an art project.

“Will it… Will it go back?”

“Do you want it to?”

“I— I don’t know.”

Max chuckles that damn chuckle, all full of himself. But this time, it’s her. You know it is, now. As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense. This is your Max. 

“Why don’t you take it for a test drive? If you don’t like it, I’ll change you back.”

You gape at him. It’s all clicking. This is your Max, and they’ve listened to you and done something so fucking weird but so fucking sweet. You don’t know how, and you honestly are starting to care less and less the longer Max keeps staring at you like he’s proud. Of you or himself, you’re not so sure, but it’s working. 

“It’s— it’s you, isn’t it?” 

“I told you so.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “where have you been? I came back. Every weekend.” 

Max hums. 

“I was a little caught up. Got into a bit of trouble, as I do. But I’m back, and I wanted to see you. I’m glad you came.”

“Are you— I mean… you look a lot different?” 

He shrugs. 

“Do you still think I’m hot? I can change back—”

“No! No, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I was just confused. You’re still—”

“Incredible?” 

You huff a laugh, and finally relax for the first time since you got into that elevator. 

“Yeah. Incredible.”

His cocky demeanor falls to the wayside to make room for something more sincere. He takes a few steps until you’re face to face with him, and places a suspiciously cold hand on the back of your heated neck. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles. 

“I— I missed you too. That night… I’ve thought about it so much.”

“Mmm, yeah? Me too.”

You kiss the stupid smirk off of his face. 

He tastes the same as you remember before, like champagne and sweet mint and her. His teeth are just as sharp, scraping your tongue as it explores every bit of his mouth. 

His free hand grabs your hip and pulls you even closer to him and fuck, that feels better than it has any right to. Your cock stirs in your pants and you buck your hips again, fiending for this new type of friction. 

“Come to bed with me?” 

All you can do is nod and follow. 

The bedroom looks just the same as it did last time, but the lack of sunlight makes everything feel quieter tonight— slower, more serene. 

He turns down the covers slowly, and you stand at the foot of the bed, extremely uncertain about what happens next, even though your dick throbs with anticipation. 

“You still into this?” 

Max’s voice startles you out of your own head. 

“Yeah, sorry. Nerves.”

He hums and steps closer to you. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, handsome.”

You nod and let your eyes trace up and down his body, noting his broad shoulders in that crisp white dress shirt and his thick thighs under the satiny sheen of his slacks. He’s still just as gorgeous in this masculine form, and it’s as irritating as it is enticing.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“Shit.” 

His words go straight to your cock, and you’re unashamed to palm it in your hand and press and curse at the completely new sensation. 

“I’m assuming that’s a yes,” he chuckles. “Do you want my ass or my pussy?” 

Your hand on yourself stills. 

“You— you have a pussy?”

“I can.”

And it shouldn’t surprise you, after everything else that’s happened in the last ten minutes, but it still does. Your breath stutters in your chest and your dick fills out even more against your hand and you distantly wonder how big Max made it, if it’s exactly what he wants. 

“Can I— Will you show me your pussy?” 

He leers at you when you ask, and it only turns you on even more. 

“I was hoping you’d go for that.”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but this whole mad situation has you feeling much more comfortable, in a fuck it kind of way. You step into his space and work the buttons free, and follow with your mouth. His skin is cold under the heat of your lips, and by the time his shirt hangs free from his shoulders you’ve made it your personal mission to warm up every inch of him. 

It’s easy to work his belt open, undo his fly and watch it open to a thick thatch of pubic hair. You pause to press your lips to his again, to reach around to cup his pert asscheeks as his slacks fall to the floor. 

You can’t stop grinding against him, even as you press him back and down onto the bed. You just follow, fully clothed, hesitant to deny yourself this new heady feeling of pressure to your cock. 

It’s only when he suckles your top lip and reaches down to palm you that you realize you’re teetering on the edge of embarrassing yourself. 

Your hips jolt away from him and it hurts a bit when you rip your lip out between his teeth, but all the better to take your mind off the intense, heavy arousal in your gut. 

“Okay?” 

He asks it with a smirk, like he already knows the answer, so you don’t give him one. You just stare down past your heaving chest to see the damp spot on your pants and start to unfasten them to relieve some of the pressure. 

“You’re gonna want to chill out. Refractory periods are annoying with those things,” he warns. 

You huff. 

“That’s kind of you,” you joke. 

It’s better, just in the thin fabric of your underwear, less resistant. You want to take them off too, but you’re afraid that the euphoria from seeing yourself with a dick will really conflate the issue at hand. 

So you shuffle down the bed a bit, and press your lips to Max’s flat chest, to his nipples that are half the size they were last time. They pebble quickly under your attention, and you bite down on one when you accidentally drag your cock along the mattress. 

He groans and arches into you, goads you on with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“Are you as good at eating pussy as you are at sucking dick?” 

It’s almost comical, the way he applies pressure to urge you further down his body. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You nip at his sparse happy trail as he pushes you down with his large hand on your shoulder and delight in the way his muscles twitch under your mouth. 

“Some time this century, yeah.”

You hum, nose at the wiry curls on his mound and grab the wrist of his hand that’s still pressing on you. 

“You’re not very gentlemanly,” you tease.

He laughs as he stares down at you with his dark eyes. His hand moves to cup your jaw and you let it, let him trace your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Is that what you want? A gentleman?”

You suck his thumb into your mouth as you shake your head, grinning around his knuckle. You bite down a little harder than you mean to and he hisses. He yanks his hand from your mouth to grab the back of your head and tug until your face is buried between his thighs. 

You relent, breathing in the scent of him, bypassing any preamble to shove your tongue inside of him. The way his hips buck into your face makes you smirk into his folds and dig your nails into the skin of his thighs. 

He still makes the most beautiful noises, when you get down to it. Desperate, hungry, eager. For as cocky as he is, he sure writhes against you like a shameless whore as he whispers curses into the dark room. 

You savor the taste of him, the warmth and tightness of him around your fingers, the scratchy feeling of his bush tickling your nose. The way his strong thighs tense and relax under your grasp makes you want to feel them do the same around your waist. 

You look up when he starts clenching around your fingers like a vice, and the thought of that feeling around your new dick makes you whimper into his pussy. You focus even more on the way you suckle and flick his clit, to try and set the arousal aside so you don’t come before you can even slip into him. 

He’s got his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his back arched off the bed when he finally shudders and comes. You work him through it, lapping at his dripping hole, letting him grind against your tongue until he’s squirming away from your touch. 

You’re dragging this out. Stalling. You press little biting kisses to his thighs and his mound as he’s coming down. Maybe if you just worked him through one more, you’ll be calm enough to—

“C’mere already.”

You roll your eyes at him as he tugs on you, but you go willingly to hover over him and let him lick his taste from your mouth. His hums are lower and more subdued in the aftermath and they rumble deep in your chest as you try your hardest not to grind into him. 

It doesn’t matter. 

His free hand wraps around your cock and the feeling turns you on so much that you almost feel nauseous. You can feel all five of his fingers there, even with how big his hands are. He’s around you, and the familiar sensation on the inside mixed with the foreign sensation against your skin is a bit confusing but so hot. He squeezes and you jolt, bite down hard on his lip, but it only makes him chuckle. 

“That good, huh?” 

You groan into the crook of his neck in answer, completely at a loss for words. 

“I’d like to say the novelty wears off, but I haven’t found that it does.”

You feel like you’re on fire, honestly, like you’re trapped in a burning building with no way out. It’s hard to speak or breathe or think with his hand wrapped around you over your underwear. You can’t even begin to imagine how good his skin is going to feel against yours. 

“C’mon, handsome, lie back for me.”

You do, with his help, reclined back against his decorative pillows. Your breathing is ragged as he takes his time getting your shirt off and pressing surprisingly sweet kisses to everything revealed to him. 

You ground yourself by petting his hair, coarse and a little sticky from hair gel but thick enough to be extremely satisfying to card through. For a moment you’re able to focus on the feeling of it slipping between your fingers instead of the throbbing of your prick. 

But then his thick fingers find the elastic waistband and creep underneath. It shocks you out of your false sense of security. When your panicked eyes meet his, they’re so warm and soft you think you could maybe cry a little about it. But he speaks up instead. 

“Are you still okay with everything going on?”

And you are, even though you’re hanging by a thread and preemptively embarrassed by what’s about to go down; you want it so bad. 

So you nod. 

“Words, handsome.”

You huff. 

“Yes, Max. Please.”

He hums and smiles. 

“Good boy.”

You’re engulfed by embarrassment when your cock jumps dramatically at his words, right beneath his hovering face. You feel even hotter when he huffs out a laugh.

But then he’s pulling your underwear, and it’s there, in plain sight, a gorgeous cock. It’s perfect, it’s how you’ve always imagined yours would look if you had one. Like Max knew, somehow, was inside your brain and could see the same fantasies that you could. 

It jerks again in the cool air. You can feel the blood rushing there, a powerful gush that makes it twitch when you think about how it’s your dick, on your body. He hasn’t even touched you yet and you can feel pre-cum dripping down your shaft. 

“Can I taste?” He asks. 

You nod, then remember your words. 

“Please.”

You can’t produce more than a whisper as you watch him lean forward, like slow motion, with his tongue hanging out dramatically and his eyes locked on yours. 

The first touch of his tongue against your skin has your hips flying off the mattress at a speed that you’re sure defies laws of physics. 

He just looks so fucking gorgeous with your prick eclipsing the middle of his face. Your prick looks so gorgeous. God, you’re starting to understand where cis men get their audacity from. 

You tighten your grip on his hair for no other reason than you need something to hang onto or you might just float off into space. He teases you with more kitten licks, up one side, then the other, and you watch in awe. You can’t take your eyes off it, even though it may delay the inevitable if you could. 

He kisses the head of it, and his tongue does something wicked right underneath it that makes you tug his head back by his gelled locks. 

“Too much?” He asks, even as he winces at your tugging. 

“You’re teasing, and all that’s going to lead to is disappointment on your end.”

God, why do you sound like you’ve just run a marathon?

“I’ll never be disappointed by making you come, handsome.”

He’s so fucking annoying. You want to fuck his face just to shut him up, but you know that would only last about ten and a half seconds. 

You curse and close your eyes and dig your head back into the pillows. He must take it as a signal to continue, because bright, staticky stars burst behind your eyelids when he takes you into his mouth for the first time. 

Fuck. You’re inside him. It feels hot and wet, kind of squishy, but so tight when he sucks and sinks his mouth down even farther. 

You yell. The dramatic noise is ripped from your vocal chords without your consent, and your eyes fly open to look down at him. Those plush fucking lips look so goddamn good wrapped around you, all wet and red and swollen. You squeeze his hair in your hand. You’re so torn between wanting to chase the warmth of his mouth and wanting to arch away from it. 

Then you feel it, that familiar twisting deep and low in your gut, only it’s ten times as intense as it usually is. You start to panic. 

“Max! Max, please, I’m—!”

He pulls off quickly, and squeezes the base of your jerking dick. It kind of hurts, and you hiss and watch in horror and wait for something to come out. But it doesn’t. It’s so weird, the way he’s manually shut down your orgasm with one touch. Completely different than the way you would have had to hold back without this new dick. 

“That’s—”

“Incredible, right?” 

You huff in the midst of catching your breath. You still feel like a hair trigger, but without someone’s finger hovering over it now. 

“Oh my god,” you sigh. 

He laughs and lets go of you. You watch him wipe the corners of his pretty mouth and distantly think that you can’t wait until you get used to this, so you can make him gag and watch his drool and your cum seep from it. 

Your dick jerks at the thought, and it’s strange to have the evidence of your arousal be so obvious. It’s like a damn car alarm. 

“Wanna fuck me now?” 

You laugh, delirious. 

“My new nickname’s gonna be One Pump Chump.”

He slithers up the bed to lie beside you. 

“It’s totally understandable. Normal, even.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. 

“How big is the sample size?”

He shrugs and smirks but his eyes focus on the bedsheets between you. 

“I know I seem like a douchebag, but I really just wanna help.”

You pout at him, but fix your face before he looks back up at you. You run your hand through his hair, gently this time, and something about this whole situation is making your heart feel all gooey. 

“You only seem like a little bit of a douchebag.”

He grumbles at you but smiles. 

“Besides, there’s like, a billion things you’re gonna want to try with that thing. You’ll get practice.” 

That thing suddenly doesn’t feel as pressing anymore. You’re still hard as rock, but it finally feels like it would take a little more than a gentle breeze to make you spill. 

“Let me fuck you, then.”

“Yeah?”

You nod and smile; and some of that eagerness comes back to light up his devious eyes. He reaches for the condoms in the bedside table and you admire all of the taut muscles under his tan skin. 

“You want help with this?” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s kinda sweet. You’ve never actually put one on at this angle before. So you get between his thighs when he lies back and let him roll it on you. 

“You can definitely get someone pregnant with this too, so… be warned. Don’t sue me about it, it won’t go over well in court.”

Your dick bobs in his grasp as you laugh. It feels so weird and fascinating.  

“Noted, thank you for the disclaimer. And sorry about the lawsuit?” 

He squeezes your prick around the condom and smiles up at you. 

“No worries, that was decades ago.”

You laugh until the words catch up with you. But you don’t have time to question it much, because he’s lying back and spreading his thighs for you, getting a pillow under his hips so his glistening pussy is tilted perfectly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him so aroused and ready for you, and at the thought of how much more wet and tight and hot it’s going to feel compared to his mouth. 

You sigh and play with his little clit, still wet from your saliva. He keens and seeks out more friction and you have to fuck him. His pussy is even more enticing now, knowing you can slide your prick inside. 

You shuffle closer and try to remind yourself to take your time. You purposefully glide your hands up his thighs, feeling the way the hair gets more sparse and fine the further up you go. You’re delighted by the little goosebumps that form under your fingertips and the way he sounds so relaxed when he sighs. 

Shuffling even further now, you settle those thick thighs over your own and let your knees cage his slim hips. When you look up, he’s watching you through hooded eyes with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You really are gorgeous,” you tell him, softly, afraid to disturb what’s becoming a very peaceful calm before the storm. 

His breath hitches a little and you see it as it ripples his chest. 

“You really are handsome,” he winks back. 

Your hand wanders up higher, across his ribs, and your thumb presses against his stiff nipple and rolls it. You feel the small noise he makes under your palm and smile. 

Your other hand grabs the base of your cock, sure to keep the base of the condom from slipping down. The subtle move kind of makes you feel like a pro, and you’d snicker about it if the euphoria that flooded through your body didn’t overwhelm you. 

It’s kind of like an out of body experience. But you’re also painfully aware of your body and this new appendage and the way the feeling of it is wreaking havoc on your entire being. 

You slide your cock through his wet folds and even just this feels incredible, the way every bit of him feels rubbing against your sensitive cockhead. You can’t drag it out any longer, you know. 

“Are you ready?” You ask him hesitantly. 

“Are you ready?” 

You snort and roll your eyes and pinch his nipple. His back arches and the movement makes your dick slip down, press just barely against his opening. You suck in a breath and it takes every ounce of willpower not to shove yourself inside to chase that wet heat. 

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. Just fuck me already. Gonna feel so good.”

For him or for you, you’re not sure which he means, but it doesn’t matter. 

You try to take your time. You really do. But as soon as the head of your prick slips in it’s like you have no self control. 

You chase the warmth, plunge all the way into him, and stay. 

Oh my god. 

“Oh my god.”

Max chuckles at you and you can feel it. You’re so fucking wrapped up in him. Every little move, shift, clench, it surrounds you and overwhelms you. 

“You feel so fucking good, Max.”

You’re sure you look absolutely wild. Your jaw is permanently dropped, eyes wide as you try with all of your might to hang on. 

“Ditto,” he breathes. 

His eyes look dark and intense, when your eyes can finally focus in. 

“Do you— did you make it exactly how you like?” 

It’s so stupid to be asking questions right now but it’s the only thing you have to keep you somewhat composed. 

“Yeah,” he admits, a little breathless. 

“You get off on that?”

You know he does before he answers, can feel him clench and contract around you. You muster up the dexterity to find his clit with your thumb and press. 

“I do! I do, fuck.”

You finally start to inch out of him, slowly, afraid that too much friction will send you over the edge. 

“Are you using me like a toy?” 

He whimpers, and the sound alone makes you snap your hips back into him. 

“No, no, that’s not it.”

Your brows rise up in question, and you pull out again as you wait for him to explain. 

“It’s— I dunno. I like that you… hah, shit, like that, don’t stop.”

You feel smug that you’ve derailed his thoughts by starting to fuck him with a slow rhythm, if only because he’s derailed yours a million times in the two nights you’ve shared. 

You circle his clit and groan at the way his pussy squeezes you. It’s hard to even pull out of him, it’s like he’s sucking you right back in. 

“You were saying?”

And it doesn’t sound smooth coming from your mouth, your breathing labored and your voice strained. 

“I like that you’ll think of me when you fuck. I like knowing I made you like this for me even if others get to enjoy it. I like knowing— shit— I like knowing I’m the one that makes you feel good.”

You balk at his confession. Such a beautiful explanation for something so possessive. From anyone else it would sound so objectifying. But with this strange relationship the two of you have, it makes your entire body burn. 

You collapse on top of him once the words really sink in. You hide your face in his sweaty neck and begin to rut into him with the knowledge that you’ll probably crumble far too quickly, but you don’t quite care. 

“You do, you make me feel so good,” you tell him. 

He whines and works his hips against yours to meet your frantic thrusts. You grab his hair again and bite faint marks into his neck that make him writhe and squirm against you. 

“You do too— harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Man, your hips are starting to ache, just like with your strap, but this time the sensation of feeling him wrapped around your very real cock keeps the discomfort at bay and it’s just pure bliss. 

So you double down, raise back up to put more of your back into it. Your sweaty hands slip against his skin as you try to grab his hips for leverage. 

“You gotta touch yourself for me,” you pant. 

The way he scrambles to comply just turns you on even more, gives you one more tick in the ‘power tripping’ column. He looks so fucking beautiful under you, back all arched in pleasure, his face scrunched up in concentration. His bicep is bulging as he slides three fingers back and forth across his clit, so frantic but so practiced. 

You fuck him and try to think about anything other than how good he feels. You’re plunging into the world’s softest, warmest hole and he’s moaning for you, you’re making him feel just as good as you do, and you’re going to lose it. 

“Gonna come, Max. I can’t—”

“Do it, come for me. Wanna be the first.”

Your hips stutter as the wave finally, finally crashes over you. You try so hard to fuck through it, try to make him come again, but as the first shock of your orgasm spikes up your spine, you can’t think to do anything but try to bury yourself as far as you can into his tight cunt. 

You know he’s saying something encouraging by the tone of his voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other as you grind into him and rest your sweaty forehead in the middle of his chest. It feels so good you could cry. 

Your fingertips dig into the flesh of his hips as you ride it out, and your chest starts to burn and your throat starts to ache and your eyes start to burn.

You are crying. 

“Shit.”

It comes out as a broken sob, muffled into his chest, and he starts at the sound. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

You shake your head against him. 

“I’m fine.”

“I know, just breathe though.”

The breaths you suck in are all shuddery and stilted, and there’s snot, and it’s so embarrassing but comforting all at once. 

He urges you to slip out, and he even holds the condom for you, pulls it off, and ties it while you try to reel yourself in.

You don’t, not right away at least, because once you get over the crazy rush of endorphins and serotonin and dopamine or whatever that’s flooded your body, you start feeling extremely self conscious about the whole sobbing during sex thing, and the fact that he didn’t get off, and—

“Come snuggle?” 

You’re not sure when he got up, but he’s holding up a robe for you in one hand, and cradling your head in the other, and ushering you out into the living room. His fireplace is on now, and there’s a tall, snobby glass bottle of water on his end table. 

You’re tired, now. Like, bone-deep exhaustion. You slump into him where he’s sprawled out on his leather couch and close your watery eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

He shushes you gently, pets your head that’s on his chest that definitely has your dried snot on it still. 

“Don’t be sorry. As long as you feel good, I feel good.”

You nod, and taking a deep breath comes easier to you this time. You brave a look up at him, and his eyes are warmer than ever as they reflect the orange-yellow flames.

“Thank you.”

He smirks then, and you feel the tension in the room shift. 

“So how was it?”

You grin and hide it in his pecs. You’re hyper aware of your spent dick lying soft and sticky on your thigh. You’re so much more tired than you ever usually are after an orgasm. It was all so different, every little bit of it. And there’s this calmness you feel now, after all the commotion, and it hits you all at once that it all feels right. 

There’s no cleaning your strap, putting away your toys, no sliding on your underwear to hide the thing that just gave you pleasure. There’s no awkward dissonance. It’s just… normal. Normal in a way it’s never been before. Effortless bliss, like a sensory deprivation tank. Nothing. 

“It was everything.”

-

Author's Note: I wanted to share a bit about what really resonated with me as I learned more about Loki. The one thing that stuck with me throughout this writing challenge is that Loki is not a bad guy. I will be honest, the only thing I knew about Loki before this was from the MCU, which to me seems like an oversimplification of the norse god from everything I've learned about him. Erin provided me with this very thorough video that analyzes Loki and his myths. To me, he seems like someone who liked to 'stir the shit' for the sake of curiosity. I didn't find much ill will at all in these tellings of his trickery, just a guy who wanted to fuck around and find out about things, someone who did more than just wonder what would happen.

Second, Erin said he's Like a fun older brother. Very playful and mischievous. Very straight-forward. Protector of outcasts; lgbtq+ folks, disabled people, neurodivergent people, etc. This was another driving force behind this fic. It wasn't a coincidence that Max met reader their first night at the club, they founded the club for the sole purpose of creating a safe space for queer people and takes an active role in making sure their patrons feel like they belong.

Lastly, Erin said their pick for me would be Max / Loki because of the gender fuckery, which excited me as much as it made me feel honored. When watching the aforementioned video, I learned about Loki turning himself and Thor into a bridesmaid and a bride, respectively. Loki himself was unrecognizable and was the exact image of a woman. However, Thor pretty much just looked like himself in a dress (this is paraphrasing.) I loved the idea that Loki's shapeshifting could not only be directed toward other people, but could vary in vagueness. These undefined rules for Loki’s gender felt like how I personally view gender in general, as well as how I relate it to my own identity, and I really took that idea and ran with it.

Anyway, thank you again @perotovar for this writing challenge and the piece of yourself you shared with all of us. I love you so much! <3

[wyattjohnston]

still home to me - nick blankenburg

series: need a little company

summary: nick finds out where he's spending the 24-25 season. sort of.

word count: 1.5k

It was the 1st of July. For most, it was just another day in the way of the 4th of July. For anybody involved or interested in the NHL it was the start of Free Agency—or the day a good percentage of the league learnt of their new homes. Officially learnt of them, anyway.

Morgan had been waiting for the answer for a week. Agents weren’t supposed to have been talking to General Managers before midnight, but it was an open secret that deals were all but put to paper before the day came. At least that was true for the bigger players who had multiple teams interested. Nick was staring down one team who had expressed interest in signing him, and Morgan was sure that contract was being signed when Nick answered his phone and darted into the bedroom of the cottage they were leasing for the summer.

The water of Anchor Bay was calm, undisturbed by any winds or boats, and Morgan stared across it, only taking her eyes off it when she heard the door open behind her. She swung her legs over the side of the recliner so that she was facing Nick.

“So…” Morgan trailed off, tracking him as he moved further onto the deck. “Nashville?”

The smile on his face was unshakeable when he said, “Yeah, two-way in the first year.”

“And you said their AHL team was in Wisconsin?”

“Yeah. Milwaukee.” A beat followed. Nick’s face faltered.  “You’re not happy.”

“No,” Morgan sighed sadly, standing up. “I’m sorry; I’m so, so happy for you.” She smiled at him, genuine and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am happy, and I am proud and I’m just being selfish. I didn’t mean to ruin it for you. I know you’ve been worried.”

“I’m still worried,” he said, his hands remaining by his sides. Morgan pulled back to see his eyebrows pulled together as he said, “I thought you were happy with Nashville.”

“I am happy that you’re happy with Nashville,” she clarified. “I just… The more I think about it, the less I think I want to be in Nashville alone if you get sent to Milwaukee.”

“I might spend most of the season in Milwaukee, you can stay there?”

Morgan sighed and she stepped backwards to put some distance between herself and Nick. She sat back down on the recliner, her shoulders slumped, and she avoided all eye contact with him as the frustration from the uncertainty bubbled out of her.

“Do I want to be there by myself if you get called up?” she asked her toes. “When you were in Cleveland it was doable because I was happy to drive up on Friday after work and go home on Sunday night—and you could visit during the week. But, like, flights between Milwaukee and Nashville aren’t going to be that easy and I don’t have anything in either of those cities. I don’t particularly care about answering phones, and I don’t think I’m saving the world, but I at least I was keeping busy while you were gone.”

Nick’s feet appeared in her vision, his hand gently pressing down on her shoulder and his thumb brushing over the hinge of her jaw.

“You can stay in Columbus, Mo,” he assured her. She could hear the struggle in his voice and picture it on his face without even looking at him. “If that’s what you really want, I can fly you wherever every weekend.”

“Well, no…” she sighed. “That sounds way worse than being with you sometimes. I fucking hate Columbus.”

“Then I don’t know what you want me to do, Mo. I can’t change Nashville’s AHL team, and I can’t accept offers from teams that haven’t made one.”

Morgan’s chest ached and she finally lifted her head. The struggle on his face was exactly what she’d imagined, and it only made her heart ache more. She grabbed the hand that was on her shoulder and held it to her mouth, kissing it gently before pressing it to her chest.

“I… Jesus, I can’t believe I’ve made this all about me. This is a huge day for you and I’m being a cry-baby.” She stood without warning, startling Nick into taking a couple steps back. “We should go tell your parents, and then get ice cream on the way home, and tonight I’ll blow you on the boat.”

She walked past him, tugging on his hand to get him to follow. He didn’t move an inch. Morgan pouted, her shoulders falling dramatically as she waited him out.

He didn’t sound any more enthused than he looked when he said, “We have to talk about it.”

“We will,” she assured him, closing the space between them and leaning in to press a tender kiss to his cheek. “We have the whole summer to talk about it. Right now, we need to go tell some people.”

Nick agreed, though he still wasn’t as excited as he had been when he first found her on the porch. They moved through the house, Morgan picking up the car keys as they passed her bag in the kitchen; Nick held his hand out for them when they reached the car, but Morgan kept them curled up in her palm.

“I love you.”

Nick didn’t hesitate to say back, “I love you, too, Mo.”

Nick’s parents were, perhaps predictably, much more excited by the news the moment they first heard it. There was no hiding their excitement, Karen immediately gushing over her son and Karl being unbelievably proud. The immediate dual FaceTime calls to his siblings only added to the excitement, and Morgan couldn’t deny that their excitement had eased her own nerves. Though the thoughts of her future never strayed too far from her mind.

They made it back to their summer home after the hearty meal Karen prepared for the entire family, so full that they both moved sluggishly. The late evening weather was perfect for a trip out on the boat, and there was no conversation needed between them—both just making their way to the dock as soon as they were out of the car.

Nick was in charge of getting the boat into the middle of the lake—a good distance away from the one other boat that had decided to go out under the moon that night—and Morgan laid herself out on the floor of the boat, her legs crossed at the ankles and her gaze firmly on the stars above her.

With the anchor dropped, Nick joined Morgan, their arms pressed skin-to-skin from shoulder to fingertip.

“I have another option for what you can do during the season.”

Morgan barely tilted her head; it was just enough to see him in her peripheral vision before she returned to finding consolations. She laced their fingers together and said, her voice barely audible over the waves brushing up against the side of the boat, “We don’t need to talk about it tonight, Nick.”

Nick hummed, but Morgan knew that it wasn’t in agreement and that it was only a matter of time before he continued with what he was going to say, so she squeezed his hand to let him know that he could continue.

“You can stay with my parents.”

It floated through Morgan’s brain for a moment, six words that felt unbelievably loaded. She clarified, to buy more time, “Here? In Michigan?”

“Yeah,” he said as he shuffled onto his side. His refusal to let go of Morgan’s hand meant she was drawn closer, and their faces were only inches apart. His mouth was tilted up at the ends. “I mean, it doesn’t change that you’ll have to fly out and see me, but you won’t be alone most of the season. I’ll fly you out when we have decent homestands or whenever you want. For a night, I don’t care. And if you need something to do, the business could always use an extra pair of hands—or my mum could use an extra set of eyes on the paperwork.”

With her heart beginning to beat just a little bit faster, Morgan inhaled a steadying breath before she rolled over to face him. “Nick… Your parents don’t want me around all the time. Especially when you’re not.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he said, his smile growing wider. He took the opportunity of her getting comfortably to poke at the bottom of her ribs, eliciting a high-pitched laugh that cut through the quiet night. “It was my dad’s idea, and he already suggested it when it was clear I was going to be spending more time in Cleveland than Columbus because he didn’t like the idea of you living alone with nobody nearby.”

Morgan shuffled across the boat’s deck, trapping their entwined hands between their bodies as she wrapped her other one over Nick and pulled him in tight.

“I just want to be with you. That’s all. The second it looks like we know where you’re playing most of the season I will be there. It just… I let my weird little ego get the best of me in college and missed four years that I could have spent almost every day with you.”

“Four years? We were at school at the same time for two years.”

“I would have stayed in Michigan. You’re my home.”

please let me know what you thought about this <3

[lokigodofmyheart]

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 4.479.

Summary: Tony and Y/N have a friends with benefit situation. But what happens when someone wants more and the other don't?

Warning/Content: angst, fluff.

A/N: This is my first time writting a Tony x Reader. Dividers by @cafekitsune <3

Fury was on her, wanting the reports from last mission. And obviously, the only person who hadn’t finished yet was Stark. Somehow, Fury thought that if someone could make him do it, it would be Y/N. And that’s how she ended up in his lab. 

Tony was sitting in his chair, doing absolutely nothing with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked at her with his usual smirk “What’s bring you here, Y/L/N?” 

“Have you finished your report from the last mission, Stark?” She asks, walking closer to his desk. 

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his messy hair “No, not yet. Why?” 

“Fury needs it. And he’s been waiting for it for two days now.” Y/N knew how Tony was and how much he hated to make those reports. In the end, she always ends up finishing for him. 

Tony rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his glass “I'll finish it, but not right now. I'm in the middle of something.” 

“Yeah, I can see it.” She glares at him, before she starts going through the giant amount of paper on his desk.  

Tony stops put his glass down on the desk and looks at her with a small smirk “Are you really here to talk about the reports?” 

“Yes.” She finally found it. 

“And are you sure that's the only reason you're here?” His smirks didn’t flatter. 

Y/N grabs the file in her hands “Yes.” That’s all she said before she turns around without looking at him and left his lab. 

Tony watched as she walked away from him, without any further comment. Obviously, given their situation, he found it a bit weird. 

The next day, Y/N was in her room when she heard a knock on her door. She open it, seeing Tony standing there.  

“Yes?”  

The man leaned against the doorway, with a small smile that he saved just for her when they were alone “I need to go to the mall, buy a few things. Wanna tag along?” 

Her face turn to an apologetic one “Sorry, I’m not feeling very well...” 

“You feel sick?” He asked her and she could noticed the worry in his voice. 

“No, not. Just a small headache, nothing major...but thanks for the invitation anyway.” She gave him a small smile. 

Tony was a bit reluctant to believe her but didn't want to press further “Yeah, ok. Rest well.” 

“Thanks.” She gently closes the door. He stood there for a few seconds, worried, before he walked away. 

The next time something like that happened, it was after movie night with the team. Everyone said good night after the movie ended, leaving just the two of them in the living room. Y/N slowly got up from the couch “I’m going to bed too.” 

Tony quickly got up too, grabbing her arm gently and smirk “Why don't we go to mine?” 

Again, the apologetic expression crossed her face “I’m on my period. Sorry.”  

His smirk dropped slightly as his grip loosened and his hand fall from her arm “Oh...” 

Y/N gave a small apologetic smile “Night, Stark.” 

He nods “Night, Y/L/N.” 

Tony thought it was just a coincidence, but he noticed that she looked like she was avoiding being alone with him. It had been more than a week since they had sex and every time he tried, she just had some short of excuse.  

He waited until she finished her training and cornered her when she was leaving the room. “Y/L/N, we need to talk.” 

Y/N stops and look at him “Sure.” 

He looked around to see if anyone was around and he crossed his arms “Have I done something to you?” 

“No.” She made a confused face as she looked at him. 

He studied her features for a moment, before he spoke again, a little lower “You've been avoiding me lately...” 

“No, I’m not.” 

Stark stepped closer to her “Then explain why you're avoiding spending time with me alone.” 

Y/N gave him a small smile “I’m not. Really.” 

“Then why did you always have some sort of excuse each time I ask you to hang out just the two of us?” 

She looked at his face and could see that he was somewhat hurt by her actions “I told you, I wasn't feeling well one day, and the other one I was in my period.” 

He didn’t really believe her “What about the other time at the lab? You came, got some paper, and were gone in a second. You didn't even try to engage with me.” 

“I was busy with the report you didn’t finish. Fury needed that.” She explains and hoped he would buy it. 

Clearly he didn’t. “Like you care about the reports. I think you're avoiding me.” 

“I’m not, Tony.” She says with a gentle voice. “Why don’t you come to my room later, and we can...talk.” She smirks at the last word. 

“Alright, I'll come...” He said, before walking away back to his room, excited for what he could only assume was going to happen tonight. 

As soon as she noticed he had left, her smirk dropped “Fuck...”  

Y/N didn’t know what to do. Yes, she had been avoiding him. They had this friend with benefits things, and she knew from the start that it was all that was and it couldn’t be more. But she had catch feelings for the billionaire and she didn’t know what to do. 

Later, Y/N was sitting on her bed with her laptop in her lap finishing another report for Fury when she heard a soft knock on her door. 

“Come in!” She says without moving from her spot. 

Tony opened the door and walked in, a smirk on his face “Hey, sweetheart.” 

She smiles looking at him “Hey.” 

He walked to the bed, sitting down next to her, he was wearing just a tank top and sweatpants “So, you wanted to...talk.” 

Y/N chuckles softly, closing her laptop and putting on her nightstand. Tony leaned against the headboard, and pulled her onto his lap “You know, the way you were acting today had me a bit worried for a second. I thought I'd done something to upset you...” 

“You’ve done nothing.” She smiles. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him, his lips next to her ear “Good, I'm glad...” he began peppering light kisses on her neck and began to kiss down her neck, and to her shoulder, his hands slowly running up and down her waist and thighs. She just froze, she didn’t know what do to. Yes, she wanted sex with him, but her heart was screaming at her. 

Tony felt the tension in her body and he pulled away slightly, worried “You okay, sweetie?” 

“Yeah...” She tried to mask it with a smile, but Tony could notice on her voice something was wrong. 

His hands came up to cup her face, keeping her looking at him “You feel a bit tense. Talk to me...” Her smile slightly drops and that worried him even more “Y/N, what's wrong?” 

“I’m sorry...” Her voice was almost a whisper “I don’t think I can do this anymore...” 

“It's okay. We can do this another time.” He says with his hand rubbing her side to comfort her. 

“No, I didn’t mean like that.” 

Tony frowned and looked into her eyes “Then what do you mean?” 

Y/N sighs, before she spoke again “I can’t do this...” she points between them. 

His heart ached a bit at her words “You don't want this anymore?” 

“I'm sorry...” she says, getting off his lap and sitting by his side with her hands in her lap. 

He stayed sitting on the bed, looking at her, trying to hide the sadness that was building inside of him “Why? I thought...I thought things were good between us...” 

Y/N looked at him and she could see the pain on his face “It is...was...I swear it was.” 

“Then...why are you ending this? What changed? What did I do, huh?” he was trying to stay calm, but it was hard. He wanted answers. 

“You did nothing wrong.” She smiles sadly at him. 

“Then why? Do...do you not want me?” He let out a shaky breath, his eyes met hers again. 

“I do. And that’s the problem.” Her voice was low as she spoke. 

That made Stark was more confused now “Why is that a problem? I want you too.” 

“Because I want more.”  

There was silence. He took a few seconds trying to gather his thought before answering her with a frow on his face “But, we agreed from the start that-” 

“I know.” she cuts him “And that's why I'm ending this.” 

Tony et out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair “Y/N, I care about you, but that's- I can't give you what you want...” 

“I know.” She says and he could hear the sadness on her voice. He hated knowing that he was hurting her with his words, but he couldn't give her what she wanted.  

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again “Do you regret us?” 

“No.” she smiles, looking at him, still with a hint of sadness “Never.” 

He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers “Me neither, sweetheart...” 

Y/N looked down at their hands together “I mean, we still can do the friends part.” 

Stark chuckled sadly, bringing their intertwined hands to his lips “Can friendship really be enough?” 

“It has to be.” She whispers. 

He sighed, hating the way this conversation was going “You know I care a lot about you. I just...I don't do relationships anymore, not after...” 

“I know.” She squeezes his hand slightly “And that’s why I’m not asking for it.” 

“This suck, you know. I'm losing someone I care about, and I hate myself for it.” he ran a hand through his hair frustrated. 

Y/N was feeling her eyes filling up with tears, and she blinks, trying to fight it “Believe me, this is much harder for me.” 

“It's hard for both of us, okay?”he said a bit harshly before immediately regretting it “Fuck...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap.” 

She shakes her head, not wanting to cry in front of him “No, it isn't. You care about me when I...I fell in love.” 

The moment he heard those words, his heart ached even more. He wasn't sure what to say to that... so for a while, he just stayed silent, fiddling with her fingers. His jaw was clenched as he tried to control the emotions coursing through his body...he felt like a terrible person, knowing that he could not return her feelings. “I...I wish I could give you what you want. I really do...” 

“Me too...” 

Tony let out a shaky breath and squeezed the hand of hers that he was still holding. Even though he knew it probably wasn't a good idea, he pulled her a bit closer to him, resting his head on her shoulder “We can still be friends, right?” 

Y/N rest her head on his “Of course.” 

For a while, he let himself just feel the comfort of being close to her. But then he pulled away, reluctantly letting go of her hand and getting up from the bed “I should go...” Y/N just nods, not trusting her voice to answer.  He looked down at her for a moment before leaning down and placing a feather-like kiss on her forehead. Part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go, but instead, he straightened up and without another word, he walked out of her room. 

“Night, Stark...” She says, holding back her tears, knowing that after he left, they would never be this close again. 

“Goodnight, Y/L/N.” He said without looking back, knowing that the sight of her sad face would tear his heart even more. 

Tony walked down the hallway and into his room, walking straight to the mini fridge and grabbing a bottle of liquor. He sat down on the couch but didn't open the bottle just yet. Instead, he buried his head in his hands and let all his bottled-up emotions flood out of his every pore for what felt like hours. He sat there for hours, trying to get himself under control. But the mere idea that the one person he was closest to in the Tower was no longer his... that he had no right to touch, kiss, or hold... he grabbed the bottle of liquor, taking a long sip, as a single thought echoed in his mind ‘You're a complete idiot, Stark.’ 

Y/N stood in her bed, bringing her knees to her chest and finally letting the tears fload after Tony left until she eventually cried herself to sleep. In just a few minutes, Tony finished the first bottle and opened the second, the words she said earlier echoed in his mind. I fell in love. 

The first week had been rough for both of them. They were avoiding each other, which mean they were avoiding the kitchen, the common room, the training room. While Y/N was more quiet than usual and saying she was suffering from allergies to justify that sometimes her eyes and nose were red, Tony just was in a incredible bad mood all the time. The team watched the whole situation with worry and confusion. Everyone knew there was something wrong with Tony, usually when he was in a bad mood, he would go around the tower, annoying and trying to get a reaction out of everyone. But now, he was practically avoiding any interaction. 

-- 

Tony was in the kitchen, enjoying the silence with a coffee in his hand, when Clint, Thor and Steve entered and stopped in front of him. He let out a tired sigh, knowing that wouldn’t be good “What do you all want?” 

Thor studied his face, before speaking “I know that look.” 

“What look?” 

“That look” Thor points at him “The same one I had when Jane broke up with me.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, annoyed with the direction the conversation was going “I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine.” 

“Yeah, Thor.” Clint started “That would imply that Stark was dating someone.” 

“Yes, thank you for that useless addition, bird brain.” Tony rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee “So, are you all just going to keep staring at me, or you have something to say?” 

Steve spoke this time “What's going on, Tony? And don't say nothing, because we all know that you're not fine.” 

Stark groaned, his shoulders slumping a bit “Just...it's nothing, alright? Can you just leave it be?” 

This time it was Clint who spoke “No, because obviously something is happening. Or had happened.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper “Can you just drop this? I just...I don't want to talk about her.” 

“Oh, so it is a woman?” Thor ask curious. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose “Damn it, yes, Thor. It was a woman, okay?” 

There was a moment of silence, Thor and Clint sharing a knowing look while Steve just stared at him “Well, what happened?” 

Despite himself, Tony’s voice trembled a bit when he spoke “She...she told me she wanted more. And I couldn't give her what she wanted. So we...we just ended things.” He took a gulp of his coffee to try and hide the turmoil he was still feeling “It's done, alright? It's over, and there's nothing that can be changed. Can we please just drop it?” 

The three of them study him, before Steve spoke in a gentle tone “You love her” It wasn't a question. 

Tony didn't even try to deny it this time. He let out a shaky breath and nodded, his eyes downcast “Yeah. I do.” 

“She loves you, right?” Steve asked “Since you said she wanted more, I thought...” 

He nodded and chuckled bitterly “That's the funny part. She does. But i made it clear from the start that I couldn't give her what she wanted. And we agreed to keep it casual. But...she said she still fell in love with me. 

“Arrangements can be changed.” Thor says. 

“It's not that simple, Thor.” Tony let out a tired sigh “What she wants...a serious relationship, commitment, all of that...I can't give her that.” 

“Why not? What are you so afraid of?” Steve was the one who spoke this time. 

“I'm not...” he starts to deny but stop mid-sentence and let out a frustrated breath “I'm not afraid.” he paused for a moment, looking over at Steve before continuing “I'm...I'm a mess, alright? I have demons that still haunt me, nightmares that don't let me sleep more than a few hours. I can be a dick in general and I...I haven't done the whole "relationship" thing in years. I can't get involved in that again.” 

“Don't you remember the last time he dated Pepper?” Clint says to Steve “He looked like hell after they broke up.” 

Tony rolls his eyes “Thanks a lot, bird brain, for remind me about one of the most painful times of my life.” 

Thor nods, agreeing “Yeah, you were just a little worse than you are now. The only thing that took you out of the misery was Y/N moving here and you becoming friends.” Steve and Clint looked at Thor. 

Tony groaned, realizing Thor was absolutely right. He never said it out loud, but deep down, he knew that the only reason he hadn't completely lost his brain after the whole Pepper situation, was Y/N. Having her around, being her friend, helped a lot during those dark months. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling the exhaustion again “What's the point of this conversation, guys? Even if I wanted too, it's too late now. She ended things because I didn't want to give her more than what we had.” 

“The question here is simple: Do you wanna give her what she wants?” Barton asked him. 

Stark looks at him for a moment, before answering slowly and honestly “Yes...I do.” 

Steve puts a hand on his shoulder “Then talk to her. I'm sure she'll listen.” 

He chuckled bitterly “It's funny that you think it's that simple. We ended things weeks ago and we've been avoiding each other ever since. You really think she'll want to talk to me now?” 

“If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking...she’ll listen.” Clint says. Obviously, after Thor made that comment, Barton and Rogers realized who he was talking about. 

And if everything couldn’t get worse, Y/N walked into the kitchen to get some water just in that moment, but she stops seeing Tony and the guys. She knew if she turned back, it would be suspicious, so she walked to the fridge to get her water “Hi...” 

Tony’s body tenses as soon as he saw her, his heart starting to pound hard on his chest. He quickly stands up from where he was resting his back against the counter, his eyes fixed on her. “Hey...”  

The three other Avengers made some lame excuses and left them alone. Tony stayed in his spot against the counter, watching the other members of the team leave the kitchen. Silence fell between them as they both stood a few feet apart from each other. 

“So... how’s it going?” Y/N spoke quietly, trying to make some small talk. 

“Like crap...” Tony didn't want to lie or pretend to be fine, and he knew she wouldn't believe it anyway. So he decided to go for honesty “How about you?” 

“Same.” 

He didn't like the tiredness in her voice, and he hated that he was responsible for it “You're not sleeping well either, right?” Y/N just answers with a head shake. He sighs softly, his heart clenching at the thought that she was suffering with the situation between them as much as he was “Same here...” 

“What a duo, huh?” She gave him a sad smile. 

Despite the situation, he chuckled softly “Yeah...” there was a moment of silence between them before he spoke again “You're avoiding me...” 

“I am...I needed a bit of space.” There was a minute of silence before she spoke again “You're avoiding me too...” 

He looked down for a few seconds, ashamed with himself “I...yeah, I know. I just...I didn't know if you wanted to see me...or if you would want to talk to me...” 

“Tony...” she walks closer to him, putting her water aside “I'm not mad at you or anything. I was sincere when I said we could still be friend.” 

As she walked closer to him, he looked at her face carefully, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. He clenched his jaw tightly as a wave of guilt washed over him. “You're not sleeping.” it wasn't a question, it was more a statement of his realization. 

Y/N rolls her eyes “Have you heard a word I said?” 

Despite everything, one thing he had missed the most was her eye-rolling, and he felt a tiny sense of relief as she did it now “I heard you. I also notice that you're looking like a zombie. You should be sleeping.” 

“You should be too. And not drinking.” 

He chuckled bitterly “Yeah, well. I sleep better after I drink. It helps with the nightmares.” 

“...they came back?” Y/N’s face softens, she knew about his nightmares. 

“Yes, a couple days after...we ended things.” He looked down, avoiding saying the word 'break up' because he still didn't want to believe that's what really had happened. 

“Are you okay?”  

Tony lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers. As much as he wanted to lie and say that he was fine, he wasn't able to do it “No, I'm not...truth is, I haven't been okay at all since you end things with me. I'm...I'm a mess, really. I drink every night, I can't sleep more than a few hours each night, and...and I miss you. I miss you so damn much.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to control the emotions he was feeling and the words he was saying, but he continued “I know I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be telling you all of this. I have no right...but I do miss you. I miss our nights together, our movie nights...and most of all, I miss talking to you, having you by my side...and I can't lie and say I don't miss being with you...” he laughed bitterly “Hell, I miss us...I should have never let you go...I should have...I should have said yes. I should have said yes to everything you wanted. But I was scared...” 

“Scared of what...?” She asks without looking away from him. 

“Scared of committing, scared of being in a relationship again, being trapped...terrified of ending up like I did after Pepper broke up with me...” He let out a strangled breath “I was so goddamn terrified of losing myself again, of having my heart broken again, that I ended up pushing the only person who was willing to be with me, away. And what the hell was the point since I end up breaking my own heart anyway...” 

“You said 'was'...” she spoke quietly. 

Tony looked at her again, his eyes going wide in realization of what he said. “Yes...”his voice was barely above a whisper, but he didn't look away from her “I said 'was'...” He could see the look on her face becoming almost a hopeful one. “I was terrified...” he repeated, as he moved so he was standing right in front of her. He hesitantly reached out his hands to touch hers and she did not pull back.  

A tiny sigh of relief escaped his lips as she let him touch her, her hands so much smaller than his. He gently laced their fingers together, rubbing his thumb on the back of her hands and Tony took a deep breath before continuing “I know what I want...and I want you. I want us...everything. I wanna take you out on dates, I wanna sleep with you and see you pretty face when I wake up. I want to watch silly movies with you, and laugh at your silly comments. I wanna be with you when you're not feeling well...I want everything. Hell, I want to marry you, I want a family...I want a future and I can't see one without you on it.” he paused for a moment, but continued in a soft whisper “And the most important thing...I want to make you happy. I want to make you smile and laugh every single day. I want to give you everything I have, everything I am...hell, I want to give you the goddamn moon if that's what you want. But most of all...I want to give you my heart...because you're the only one I trust with it...” 

Y/N didn’t answer, she just cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. The moment her lips brushed against his, he groaned loudly before cupping her face with his hands and pulling her even closer, the kiss becoming more and more urgent and frantic as he let out all the pent-up feelings and emotions through it. She parted the kiss, but didn't pull back “Are you sure?” 

Tony rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed and his breathing becoming more ragged as he tried to regain control over himself. He opened his eyes and looked at her face, one of his hands moving to brush against her cheeks “Never been more sure of anything in my life, sweetheart.” 

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before continuing “Y/N Y/L/N...will you be my girlfriend?”  

Y/N smile and nods “Yes.” He let out another breath of relief, a huge wave of happiness washing over his entire body.  

They stayed in that position for a few seconds before he leaned in to kiss her again, this time the kiss was gentle and unrushed. “God, I missed you so much...” 

“I missed you too...” 

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face resting on his chest and his face buried in her hair. He took a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms once again, and the realization that it wouldn't just be a fling. It was real, it was more than physical desire. He cared for her, he loved her, and she was his “I love you.” 

Y/N smiles “Say it again...” 

Tony smiles at her request “I love you.” he says, gently pulling her face away from his chest so he could look directly in her eyes “I'm in love with you...And I plan on saying it every damn day for the rest of our lives.” 

[dorthyanndrarry]

Unknown -4-

Tags: Angst, Post war deatheater prejudice, light injuries, chronic illness, post war trauma, dark magic, blood magic, alcohol use/abuse, self destructive behaviors,

Suggested rating: Teen

<- Part 3 ||

Draco pushed a small pea around his plate with his fork. He had eaten everything served but the peas and carrots. Popo was otherwise an exemplary house elf chef except when it came to vegetables, which he would only prepare boiled. Sometimes, Popo might add a little butter if he was feeling fancy. This was not a fancy day.

He looked over at his mother's plate, she had eaten a few bites of the chicken, and most of the rice. He had been dawdling, hoping she might eat a bit more but it seemed unlikely. Narcissa was leaning back in her chair, slowly turning the stem of the still full glass of wine in front of her. She looked distant. Whether from exhaustion or memories, Draco couldn't hazard to guess.

Draco cleared his throat, "Did you happen to look at the papers I left you? From the realtor?"

Narcissa's hand stilled on her wine glass.

"I thought the country estate in Kent looked quite good, it's muggle but quite removed, the nearest neighbor is-"

"We're not leaving," Narcissa said shortly.

Draco stifled a sigh. "...Of course not," he said reassuringly, "it would just be for the summer, a nice summer holiday. The sea air would be good for your health." If he could just get her there, get her away from this place then-

"I'm fine, Draco, perfectly fine," Narcissa said, lifting her chin imperiously and sitting up straighter. "You are needed here, at the Manor. It's where you belong."

"Mother-"

"You are the head of the house now. The reputation of the Malfoy's must be restored-"

"Mother, I don't-"

"I know it will take a great deal of work, Narcissa continued, talking over him without any sign of hearing him speak, "but your Father and I did it after the first war, and we can do it again."

Draco put his fork down and picked up his wine glass, taking a deep swallow as his mother went on and on. About Ministry positions, as if they'd hire him to even clean the floors, making connections, if he could find anyone of influence that would speak to him, marriage and heirs- Draco snorted into his cup, pouring the rest down his throat. That would never happen. He refused to inflict the toxic name of Malfoy on another person.

The only idea his mother had that might work was making charitable donations to popular causes. Because money was all they had left. That would at least get them a few people being willing to tolerate them, to their faces, anyway.

Draco refilled his glass and lifted it to his lips. The wine was filling his mind with a soft hazy feeling that made it easier to swallow all those words that were always just behind his teeth when his mother got into one of these rants. Otherwise, he was afraid he might begin shouting, might shake his mother by the shoulders to try and get some sense into her.

"Mother." Draco interrupted tersely, "You just made me promise not to go out by myself anymore. Remember?"

Narcissa looked at him through narrowed eyes before looking away dismissively. "Working at the Ministry would be different. No one would dare hurt you there."

"Sure," Draco muttered into his glass.

Narcissa delicately folded the napkin in her lap and placed it on her mostly uneaten dinner. "I'm feeling a bit tired. I think I will retire early tonight."

Draco went to stand.

Narcissa held up her hand, waving him back into his seat as she stood. "I'm fine to walk on my own."

"Are you-"

"I'm sure," Narcissa said. She smiled tiredly and brushed a kiss across Draco's temple, "We can talk more about this later. I shall see you in the morning."

"Sleep in," Draco said hopefully, "We can have brunch."

"We'll see," Narcissa said as she stepped out into the hall.

Draco reached across the table and picked up his mother's glass of wine, drinking as his mind churned with frustration. It seemed like no matter what he said or did, his mother would not let go of this place, this family, this legacy. He scowled as he finished the glass, grabbed the wine bottle, and poured out the last few swallows. Again, he was unable to leave the past behind. He couldn't even move to the continent because his mother was not allowed to leave the UK as part of her probation.

He picked up the wine bottle and frowned at its emptiness.

"Libbi!" He called impatiently.

The elf appeared at his elbow, watching him with a distant expression. "Yes. Libbi is here."

"Whiskey, " Draco said.

Libbi snapped her fingers, and a bottle of amber liquid and a tumbler appeared before him.

"Thank you," Draco said, but Libbi was already gone.

Draco plucked the stopper out of the crystal decanter. He only meant to pour in a splash of whiskey but accidentally filled half the glass. He pressed his fingers into his temples as he took a swallow large enough to make him wince.

"Fuck it," Draco muttered and stood up. The world swam around him, and he grabbed the back of his chair for support. He finished the whiskey with another swallow and wince, putting the glass down. There was a sound of shattering glass as it fell through the wavering edges of the table and shattered on the ground. It was probably an heirloom, some elf crystal or something.

Draco snorted derisively, steering himself around his chair and out the door. He kept one hand on the wall as he walked down the hallway, knocking over an empty plinth he could have sworn wasn't there before.

He went back to the library.

Draco pulled the pin from his cloak as he made his way to the stone wall. His hand slipped and cut a large gash across his palm, but he hardly felt it.

He smeared a streak of blood across the stones, "Open." Nothing happened, and he frowned. "No, it's..." his brow furrowed, "My blood, something... by my blood open?"

Draco stumbled back as the stones unfolded and revealed the hidden bookshelf. The metal bar was held in place by a clever metal latch, something that a spell couldn't open because it wasn't really a lock. His hands were frustratingly clumsy as he twisted and slid the metal pieces until the metal bar came free and swung out on a hinge.

Draco leaned close, squinting at the line of books until he spotted the book from before. He jerked it out of the row, trying not to touch the other books and sending three tumbling to the floor. Draco quickly stepped back from the fallen books in case they were the biting kind.

The book in his hands was cold to the touch and smelled faintly of dried blood. Draco didn't bother reading through it, flipping past pages promising him riches, power, and revenge; none of it was what he wanted.

He wanted to start over.

That's all he wanted.

Draco fumbled out his wand, nearly dropping the book. He paused before casting, clearing his throat and enunciating as clearly as he could. His wand movements were stiff as he focused hard to keep them true.

"Accio a new life."

The pages fluttered past and fell open on a spell called ' Relegati Obliterum'. Draco stared at it for a long time, trying to remember his Latin instruction from the years before Hogwarts. The obliterum was Latin for forget; the same word was used in the obliviate spell. So it had to be some variation of obliviation, but it was based on runes cast from a spell circle. Which meant... meant...

"Fuck, what does that mean again?" Draco rubbed his eyes. "Fucking Hogwarts, and it's fucking limited curi... curicu? classes."

Draco snapped the book closed. "Spell circles cast outward from the centre! So- to to make everyone not in the circle forget, and if they forget what I did, then- then I can start over."

A shiver of excitement ran down his spine. This was it. This was the key. He couldn't cast it here, though. There wasn't enough room. And there would be questions if his mum happened upon it. That was no good.

He went to his suite of rooms, retrieving the decanter of whiskey as he passed the dining room. His new rooms were at the end of the east wing. They were never used when he was young and mostly ignored during the war. Draco had moved into them the day he returned from his trial.

Draco spent most of his days in his potion lab, only returning to his rooms to sleep. The small sitting room had a single ratty armchair by the fireplace, the floo always kept closed. The adjoining bedroom had an old four-poster, the curtains pulled down and vanished, an ancient wardrobe and a threadbare rug on the floor.

Without a glass, Draco drank directly from the heavy crystal bottle, spilling more than a couple of times as he rolled up the rug and shoved it out of the way, the oak floorboards beneath the carpet lighter than the floor around it.

He conjured a piece of chalk and used a charm to draw the central circle and inner ring. It only took a few couple many tries, but he got it. There were no charms for drawing sigils, at least none he could remember. So, on hands and knees, sweat dripping off his nose and soaking into the wood, Draco sketched the sigils by hand. The cut on his hand kept reopening, blood staining the chalk and markings, making it hard to hold.

His knees were screaming in pain by the time he was done. He stumbled to his feet, legs nearly giving out under him. The whole world spun, and his stomach lurched. Draco grabbed hold of the bedpost for dear life, squeezing his eyes shut, a tear slipping down his cheek.

Draco went to grab the book sitting on his duvet. His foot hit the whiskey bottle, and he almost fell, catching himself on the bed. Draco gasped, startled and upset. He kicked the bottle across the room. His chest was squeezing so tight it hurt; he felt sick.

Draco took a deep breath and roughly scrubbed the moisture collecting in the corner of his eyes. He grabbed the book and stepped into the circle's centre, careful not to smudge the lines. The instructions said something about saying the incantation unencumbered. Draco couldn't remember what that meant. He wasn't sure he cared.

His eyes kept blurring as he tried to read the incantation, a mix of latin and something else he didn't recognise. He traced the words with his finger as he said them, still careful to enunciate even as he was foolish to be casting it at all. The sigils began to glow one by one as he spoke, the glow becoming brighter and brighter until the light became fire and burned him away.

-

goddamn writing is a lot harder than I remember it being😥

Tags below v💜 same as always, leave a message or reblog to get tagged in the next post

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[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Saw this ask on another blog.

How would the ROs react if they fall from a high place and MC catch them. Like they where on top of a chair and fall in the MC arms.

Cassandra: I feel like this would be an instinct that she didn't really know she had, to move forward and reach out to catch MC. Her face would just as surprised as yours, she would have the strength to carry you; man or woman (If you were really heavy for her then she could carry you long enough to break the fall then put you back on your feet). I don't think she would really have any words to say afterwards either, just straight 😯 face. Would have you steady on your feet before asking if you're alright, dusts you off and looks you over for any injuries before nagging you to be more careful.

Valeria: LMAO, you both are falling to the floor. She might have strong arms but she misses leg day, everyday. She would reach out to try though, and it's the thought of trying to catch you that counts.

Tomas: Was hovering right next to you in case you fell anyway, catches you instantly and holds you tight in his strong arms for a moment. Low key does not want to put you down because he feels so overjoyed and satisfied at that very moment, he absolutely loves this feeling. When he eventually puts you down, he dotes on you for a good while; all cooing and fussing over you lovingly. It comes off slightly as babying but I mean... he finds you and this whole situation absolutely adorable!

-

Ludovica: ...You are also both falling to the floor. Like instantly, absolutely zero resistance. She would have been right next to you too, telling you to be careful. I doubt she even had the reaction time to raise her arms to try and catch you, she probably just squeaked and crumbled under you.

Aurelio: My man probably was a little ways away from you when you fell, he doesn't really hover so he had given you some space while you were doing whatever it was that you were doing. But he has decent reaction time and used his long as legs to cross the distance and catch you. Insert wack ass pun about falling for him and he puts you down. Would only make this a cheesy romantic moment if MC looks into his eyes all surprised and in love, if MC acts casual about it, so will he.

Elio: I would like to say that he would let you fall because I love characterizing him as an asshole with a cat's affectionate bipolar personality. But he probably would walk over if he thought you would probably fall, would react in perfect time to catch you. Cue the little bastard's smirk and cute head tilt, asking if you are okay. Oh, and he doesn't struggle or waver to catch you AT ALL; for how little working out and how much he dodges hard work like the plague, he is surprisingly strong.

[princess-of-morkva]

to find you again

Arthur Pendragon was ten years old when his world finally began to make sense.

It was in his fifth grade, when his class went on a week long camping trip. He didn't know, at the time, what compelled him to sneak out of the tent in the wee hours of the morning, when the first rays of dawn lit up the treetops and his legs carried him towards the shore of a lake. It's surface was shimmering in morning light, and he could feel his breath halt, afraid to disturb the serenity of the sight that felt so otherworldly. It may have been some divine compulsion or simply his innate, childish desire to explore that made him go further, then, until his rubber flipflops were left on the shore and his bare feet touched the water.

There was a hand then, that rose out of the water, translucent and not entirely present, an image out of mist. There was a hand, and then another, and then the head and the body — a figure arose from the lake, smiling at the little boy that intruded her realm.

"Hello, Arthur." She spoke, and her voice didn't carry through the air like a human's would, rather, it sang with the wind, hit the ears like tiny drops meeting the water. "It's good to meet you at last."

He stared at her, for a long moment, before answering.

"How do you know me?" He frowned at her. Father told him not to talk to strangers, and this might have been a very pretty woman made out of mist, but she was still very much a stranger. Still, he didn't step out of the lake, for his curiosity was much greater than his father's teachings which felt so far away at the moment, and there was no one around to see anyway.

"The world speaks to me. I can't leave this lake, but I can see far beyond it." Her answer was not an answer at all, Arthur thought. His confusion must've been evident, because she smiled at him again, and there was a mischievous hint in the corner of her lips that made her look not so much like a spirit in a lake but a living and breathing young girl, but the next second it was gone and Arthur was left to wonder if he imagined it entirely.

"Why can't you?" He asked.

"It's were I was put to rest." She spoke the words so evenly, as all of the things she previously said, that it took Arthur a few seconds to catch the meaning of it.

"Does that mean you're dead?" He asked, hoping not to offend her with it.

"Not exactly. I'm here, aren't I?" Once again, her answer gave more questions than it answered.

"There are ghosts." He said. Arthur wasn't sure there were, actually. His father didn't believe in such things.

"I am different from ghosts."

"What are you then?"

"A guardian."

Arthur nodded, as if it made perfect sense. It didn't.

"Do you have a name?" He asked. It was only polite to ask for a person's name when first meeting them. Than again, lake-guardian-spirits could have entirely different etiquette.

"I was called Freya, once." There was a small smile, again.

Arthur nodded musingly.

"It's a pretty name."

She hummed.

"Do you often speak to people?" He never heard of such entities as her. It couldn't have been a common occurrence, surely. But wouldn't that be lonely? Having no one to talk to?

She shook her head, and there was a wistful look in her eyes.

"I haven't spoken to anybody in centuries." That couldn't have been nice, Arthur thinks. If she could speak to him, why didn't she speak to others?

"Why'd you speak to me than?" Freya didn't answer immediately, pausing the flow of their measured back-and-forth. It almost looked like she was unsure, but her features were still so calm, it was impossible to tell.

Then, she asked. "Do you have dreams, sometimes?"

It was a silly question. Everybody had dreams. Arthur understood immediately though, it wasn't the regular kind of dreams she was talking about.

Because the thing is, Arthur did have dreams. Ever since he was little. He remembers dreaming of white towers and battlements, of bright red banners and capes. Of metal clanging and laughter and a weight of a sword in his hand, on his hip. Of familiar faces he could never quite place. Of raven curls and bright blue eyes, especially often.

He never told his father about them — he'd call such things foolish. Arthur didn't think they were.

Arthur looked at Freya and nodded. There was a glim of relief in her eyes, he thought.

"Would you like to see more?" She asked, offering him her hand. Not solid in any common way of the world but in that moment, more real than any other thing around them.

Arthur didn't think twice before grasping it.

-----

please tell me if you'd like to see more of it because i love the thing in my head so far

where is merlin in it? he's gonna be there. with a twist. it's a reincarnation fic but with a twist. it's also very merthur. or as much as it can ever get with my aromantic ass.

also it's modern au but i still haven't decided on a more specific setting- should i do college au? i'd be horrible at it even though it would make sense thematically- i haven't been outside in years how does society function? how do i write it?

can you see i love freya? i love her very much

[the-fiction-witch]

The Harrenhal Wedding

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - Y/n Blackwood (Benjicot's Sister) Rating - 15 Word Count - 2952

Requested -

Please make one shot about oscar tully and his fiance ( blackwood) when they meet first time i think that would be really cute

Oscar had been staying at harrenhall since his promotion to lord paramount of the Riverlands, he remains with his river lords as the armies raise and gather. But this morning Lord Simon Strong summons him to the grand hall where lord strong and Prince Daemon sit,

“Morning My lord Strong,” Oscar nodded,

“Morning my lord Tully,” Simon nodded,

“Targaryen,” Oscar snapped in Daemon’s direction,

“Tully.” Daemon glared back,

“What’s all this about anyway?” Oscar asked,

But the door quickly opened to the young Benjicot Blackwood, the new lord of Raventree Hall,

Lord Blackwood stood and bowed,

“My lord Blackwood, a pleasure,” Oscar nodded,

"My Lord Tully, I rode as soon as word reached me .. is it true? My lord uncle? Ser Willem Blackwood, he was executed? Here on your orders?"

“He was, my lord, yes.” Oscar was unflinching with his answer,

"...may I ask why my lord?" He asked,

Oscar sat back in his seat, “Your uncle committed crimes against his neighbours, curel and merciless crimes, his punishment was just. But I do not blame your sadness at this loss.”

lord Blackwood nodded "... I understand, please may I ask his remains be returned to Raventree hall to be laid under our werewood as his forebears?"

Oscar nodded, “Of course, lord Blackwood, I will have them sent to Ravnhall immediately.”

"... please my lord, i- I hope my uncle and his actions, do not sully our families name,"

Oscar shook his head, a slight bit of sympathy in his eyes and tone “You need not worry, my lord” Oscar tried to give the young lord a bit of comfort before speaking again, “His crimes are his own and I assure you his crimes do not sully your house.”

"yes my lord I understand, but... House Blackwood would still like to pledge themselves to your fealty and your war for Queen Rhaynea"

Oscar smiled, standing from his seat and striding over to blackwood, putting a firm hand on the young lords shoulder and speaking in a commanding tone

“That is greatly appreciated my lord,” Oscar nodded, “And I don't have to worry about your loyalty like I did with your uncle, do I?”

"No my lord, and as proof of our loyalty I come with an offer for you."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, slightly amused, his hand still on the boys shoulder “An offer? What kind of offer?”

"... In the riverlands we celebrate our new lord paramount, as much as we grieve your grandfather Ser Grover Tully." Lord Blackwood began "And house blackwood has been loyal to house Tully as our legige lords. And as the new lord of House Blackwood myself I wish to make an offer that would bring great joy and honour on my house as well as faith of our alliance to yours," he nodded "you, yourself Lord Oscar are a young man, unmarried. And I would like to offer my sister Y/n Blackwood to be your bride."

Oscar raised his eyebrows in surprise, slightly taken off guard by the offer. He looked at the young lord for a moment “Your sister.” He thought for a moment before speaking again “She is of age, I presume?”

"yes my lord, she is two years your younger"

Oscar nodded, “And attractive, I'd hope?”

he chuckled "The ravens of raventree hall sing for her, smallfolk of our keep say a beauty like her has not been born in our family since Missy blackwood"

“That's what I like to hear…” Oscar paused for a moment “It's a fine offer, my lord, your sister will make a fine lady of riverrun.. I accept your offer, on one condition.”

“Yes of course, anything my lord,”

“We consummate the marriage as soon as possible.”

"Yes my lord. you - you honour me, my house and my sister. She is with me. You may wed in the sept as soon as you wish and bed her as you see fit. Perhaps the gods shall bless you with a babe in her belly before this war begins its march"

Once again, Oscar was slightly surprised by the young lords quick and eager compliance. He smiled, looking down at the boy, keeping his hand on his shoulder

“The preparations will be made at once... and don't worry, my lord, I'll be filling your sisters belly before the end of the week.”

"we can hope my lord" lord blackwood bowed low

“Very good, my lord.” Oscar smiled, striding back to his seat as the boy left. As the young lord exited the hall, Oscar returned his attention to the prince and Lord Strong who had been watching the pair

“Well, that worked out well.” Lord strong nodded,

Daemon chuckled

Oscar retook his set, looking up at the Prince “What? Got something to say, Targaryen?”

"No man gives his sister away that easily unless there's something wrong with her." Daemon laughed

Oscar chuckled, resting his arms on the table and leaning forward “Or it shows great loyalty and devotion.” “Besides, the boy is young. He's naive. He probably has no idea what she's in for.”

"you are a young boy" Daemon glared

Oscar smirked, leaning against the back of his seat “Only in comparison to you, Targaryen” he glared, “Now…The riverlords have been gathering at harrnehall, it will take a while yet for us to raise our full armies, but we're not far off now. My question is, what shall be our next move?”

"we wait for word from the queen" Daemon glared

Oscar raised an eyebrow slightly at the princes sharp, glare. He took a deep breath before speaking, keeping his eyes focused on the prince, speaking in a low, commanding tone “I'll be blunt, Targaryen, if we wait to long before we strike then the greens will have more time to prepare their armies, and they will be stronger. We need to attack them when they are vulnerable, unprepared.”

"And you wish to march half a River army to kings landing yourself?"

Oscar chuckled, his eyes still focus on the prince. He shook his head gently before responding “That depends, you'd be with me, wouldn't you, Targaryen?”

"I would be on caraxes. Watching you be slaughtered"

Oscar smirked, sitting back slightly in his chair and crossing his legs, still focused on the prince “Ah yes. Your dragon.” He remained silent for a moment, his eyes boring into the princes eyes before speaking again, mockingly imitating the princes voice "I cannot enter any conflict without my precious dragon."

"mind your tongue boy" Daemon glared

Oscar smirked, he didn't fear the prince, not at all. If anything, he saw him as an equal. He sat forward, his eyes burning into the princes “Or what?”

"I think we should uhhh discuss" Simon strong spoke up "if you are to proceed with this wedding my lord..."

Oscar broke eye contact with the prince and looked over to Strong, slightly annoyed that he had been interrupted “What is it, Lord Strong?”

"... House blackwood keeps the old gods, not the seven my lord" lord strong explained,

Oscar nodded, “Yes.. I'd imagine that will be of slight.. issue. And you, Targaryen? What is your view on the matter?”

"Targaryen’s do not hold to any gods. It is irrelevant" Deameon shrugged

Oscar nodded once again, speaking with a mocking, sarcastic tone “Fantastic. So a marriage between a Riverlord, of the faith of the seven, and a Blackwood, of the old gods.” he chuckled, “That will be... interesting..”

"Stranger things have happened my lord, shall we make arrangements for this wedding?" Lord strong asked

Oscar nodded, sitting back against his chair, folding his hands into his lap, and speaking in a more serious tone “Yes. We shall.” He thought silently for a moment before speaking again “But I expect I won't be allowed to consummate the marriage until the ceremony, correct?”

"as is tradition my lord yes." Lord strong nodded "wedding and then bedding ceremony"

The word made oscar cringe, he sighed, that was probably the part he liked the least. He hated the idea of a bunch of drunk men stripping his wife half naked, he hated the idea of other men looking at his wife. It annoyed him. He looked up at strong again “Can we not skip that bit? I prefer to keep my future wife to myself rather than letting your drunken courtiers gawk at her.”

"you can refuse the ceremony if you wish my lord" Simon nodded

"I refused for all three of my wives. The first because I didn't want to inflict her nudity on the men of the runestone. The two others... Because I wanted to strip them myself " Daemon smirked

Oscar smiled, at least the prince agreed with him there. He wasn't alone with his distain of the ceremony “Good. I'll be doing the same then. I don't want anyone seeing my wife like that. I want that privilege all to myself.”

"we shall begin preparing then," lord strong nodded

Oscar nodded “Good. Please, keep me informed with the preparations.”

He stood, gesturing for the other two to take their leave before he himself left the grand hall,

The wedding had been arranged as a quick affair, the armies still gathering at harrenhall, so the wedding would be the riverlords as witness, in the godswoods with a septon, and a small feast in the grand hall. Nothing too monumental but with war looming the time and expense could not be spared for a grand affair

Oscar sat in the Great Hall, He fiddled restlessly with the chalice of ale in his hands, waiting for the marriage ceremony. He couldn't wait to be wed, to finally have a proper lady at his side and a wife to keep the bed warm when the nights grew cold and the war grew long. He was ready to begin life as a married man, and the wait for the ceremony to start was annoying him

lord strong approached and bowed "it is time my lord, the septon stands in the godswoods awaiting the ceremony to begin"

Oscar nodded, standing from his seat and finishing the last of the ale in his chalice “Very well, let's get this over with.” The more impatient voice in him spoke, the one that just wanted to skip straight to tonight. He followed Lord Strong outside and through the godswood,

the riverlords loomed around the godswoods, many of the men in the armies had gathered outside on the rocky ruins to get a view into the godswood, prince Daemon lingered his hand on his sword, a septon stood in front of the werewood tree,

"My lord Tully, the seven has blessed us with a beautiful day" The Septon smiled,

Oscar approached the septon, “They most certainly have, septon.” he nodded, “Now, let us not waste any more time. I shall be a married man before the sun sets.”

the septon nodded and signalled beyond the woods. Hush suddenly came over the lords.

Oscar turned his head, taking a step forward, his eyes focused on the woods behind him, waiting. He took a deep breath, the time was here. The long day of waiting and preparation was over. He was so close to being wed, the feeling was exciting. He focused his gaze and waited for his bride

the doors opened wide and Lord Blackwood stepped out, and on his arm was his sister.

Y/n Blackwood, she was a Y/H and somewhat Y/B/T girl, with a sweet face, tender skin, y/e/c eyes, long Y/H/C styled well, she wore a silvery gown with matching gems about her. A maiden’s cloak of red and black the colours of house Blackwood draped over her shoulders,

Oscar's eyes locked as she entered, taking in the sight of his bride and a proud smile came across his face,

her brother brought her to the tree and she bowed low she was clearly nervous but she still smiled to him

Oscar looked down at the lady Y/n, seeing her bow low to the ground in front his eyes, he smiled, she was beautiful, shy and nervous too. It reminded him of a scared fawn, small, nervous, and beautiful.

the Septon nodded "Who brings this maiden to be wed?"

"I, Lord Benjicot Blackwood of Raventree Hall, Her brother, and her protector." Lord Blackwood nodded "She is a maiden flowered, unsoiled and pure, and I give her willingly for this match"

Oscar felt the pride in his chest once again at the mention of her being a maiden, pure and unsoiled, as a good wife should be.

"Who comes to claim her?" The septon asked,

He took a quick, deep breath and spoke in a steady, determined voice “I, Oscar Tully, of Riverrun, come to claim this lady. Her honour, and her hand.”

lord Blackwood slowly handed Y/n's hand to Oscar letting him feel her soft hand for the first time, her skin was soft but her fingertips were likely from embroidery or other such sewing works, feeling her soft palm against his, his fingers interlocked with hers. He was surprised at the softness and smoothness of her hand, but then again, he should have expected it. After all, she was a noble lady. A small smile spread across his face as he felt the calluses on her fingertips, a stark reminder that she wasn't just a lady, she was a practical and smart girl as well.

Seven vows were made, seven blessings invoked, and seven promises were exchanged, "And now bring her into your house, your home and your protection." The septon nodded,

Lord Blackwood slowly removed the cloak of Blackwood colours from Y/n leaving her to shiver for a moment but,

Oscar took the Tully cloak from Lord Strong and gently wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening it at the front,

she smiled rather excitedly,

"As with the draping of these colours, the maiden sheds her time as a blackwood maiden and is here and now a Tully bride." The septon then took a beautiful woven cord of the colours of house Tully and Blackwood, binding their joined hands in a handfasting knot "in the sight of the seven, I hearby seal these two souls binding them as one for eternity"

Oscar smiled as the septon tied the handfasting knot around their wrists, the seven colours of House Tully and House Blackwood intertwined together. He looked down into Y/n's eyes, her excitement was infectious, and it made his chest feel warm. He tightened his grip around hers, smiling down at her as the septon continued speaking

“Any who wish to challenge this union, this is now your time to speak,” The septon asked, but no one spoke, "you may now speak the words"

"Father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger..." She nodded slowly given she had only just leant all this "I am his, and he is mine from his day to the end of My days" she smiled,

Oscar nodded, keeping his eyes focused on Y/n. He smiled as he spoke, his voice steady and firm, yet soft and gentle at the same time “I am hers, and she is mine from this day to the end of my days.”

"and you may seal with a kiss my lord." The septon said a little quietly

Oscar smiled, he'd been looking forward to this part. He slowly lifted his hand to her chin, his fingers gently gripping her soft skin. He lifted her face, his eyes still locked with her,

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband,” she blushed,

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife,” Oscar smiled, before leaning down and gently pressing his lips against hers, in a long, soft, but firm kiss

she softly kissed back slightly gasping when loud applause and cheers came from the riverlords, which then triggered a large celebration from the many men of the armies who had all loomed outside the godswoods to watch what they could, even daemeon gave a small applause

Oscar took advantage of the applause and cheers from the riverlords to deepen the kiss, his hand still resting on her chin, holding her face as he pressed his lips harder into hers, his other hand resting on her waist and pulling her closer to him. The cheering was a reminder to him that the entire world was watching, and he wanted to show just how much this marriage meant to him. He ignored his surroundings, and focused solely on Y/n, his new wife. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he reluctantly pulled back from the kiss, taking a deep breath as he broke apart. He looked back into her eyes, their faces so close they were almost touching. He smiled, taking in the feeling of her soft skin against his, the sweet, gentle kiss, and the sound of the riverlords cheering in applause.

she softly Giggled when he pulls back her cheeks a little red from her not expecting such a passionate kiss from her new husband,

Oscar couldn't help but smile at her Giggling, her soft, gentle voice making his chest feel warm. He took a deep breath, before gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumb gently brushed across her soft, rosy red cheeks

"then it is and always shall be." The septon nodded as he untied their joined hands, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

“You have a pretty laugh, you know that?” he smiled to her,

she giggled again "Thank you my lord"

Oscar smiled again, resting his forehead against hers “Please, call me Oscar. My name sounds far better coming from your lips.”

"... Yes Oscar" she nodded

He smiled, his chest warming at the sound of his name coming from her mouth. It sounded good. He slowly leaned back, gently wrapping his arm around her waist “I suppose we should return to the festivities now, my wife. And you can expect a lot more of that later on as well.”

she blushed but nodded as he lead her through the godswoods passing the lords as they headed inside the harrenhall grand hall.

[chicken-wayng]

rather than handing Rhaenyra everything she wants on a silver platter?

No offence anon but I don’t think you quite grasp what was happening in 2x08 if this was your ultimate conclusion.

First of all you need to understand two fundamental things about the HotD’s writers:

They’ve put Rhaenyra on a pedestal

They don’t like Alicent

Alicent can’t make any demands that negatively affect Rhaenyra, she cannot request an alternative which would mean Jace is disinherited, she can’t do anything that is ultimately anti TB because that’s not the show the writers have made!

Watch 2x08 with the writers’ logic that Rhaenyra has never done anything wrong in her entire life, you’re not even allowed to ask she punish Daemon because that would suggest her welcoming him back with open arms was wrong.

After you’ve done that tell me if you really think they’d have Alicent stand up for herself and her family?

Yup! Alicent cannot stand up for herself or make an autonomous (I think that's the word, if not excuse me I legit just woke up) decision. The first one she made was to wear green, then to support her father's (and her own after a while) ambition, then lastly to go to Nyra. All of her decisions have literally bit her in the ass. I think she's very good as representation for the lesbians that are born into a religion/society that gas lights them. Nyra's never really made a decision without fully thinking about it (She's a blonde that gives us other blondes that reputation 🤣💜) but has always thought she's been the one in control. She's in control of her gender crisis, her sexual identity, so obviously she's got everything figured out. She's a very good rep for the masses that grew up in a religious place, but didn't notice how much it had an effect on them until it was too late and an irreversible issue was caused. Neither of them are truly free, both birds in a cage thinking their song is the prettiest because they've never heard how happy and free the birds outside sound. I cannot to see Nyra's religious madness and for them to knock her off her pedestal (I'm relate most to her btw, shes literally tloml so I'm saying this as a person whose gone through a similar type of religious breakdown), I literally need it if I don't get anything else on my Xmas list but I got that I'd be okay.

Thanksya for putting it into a good explanation for me. I do think prev.anon was talking about how Nyra gets everything on a silver platter, not Alicent. However I like their metaphor because following it I can say that while Nyra's always had a feast in front of her, imagine it's like yellowjackets. In front of her is the young version of her, dead and cooked, smelling of fire and blood. A feast for everyone to enjoy. Behind each person is a vulture. Just cuz it's a pretty platter don't mean the vultures aren't gonna eat. But they're not the ones feasting is literally everyone from Viserys to Daemon to her kids to Otto to her council to the men that trick her and her Aegon into coming to Dragonstone for her death and even Allie. Or even the food is rotten if that's too vulgar, but in both arts (the yellowjackets cannibal feast or the rotten smorgasbord) I'm picturing she's eating with a blind fold.

Anyways sorry for this grammarless spiel, thanksya'll for sharing your opinion and letting me share mine!

[mrschristensen]

Yesss that’s absolutely fine can’t wait to read it 😁😁😁

Conflicted

(link to og ask)

WARNINGS: eventual smut/porn w plot (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK), female s/o, threesome (the boys aren’t dating each other tho cuz INCEST), unprotected sex (piv), dp (double penetration), praise, degradation, name calling (slut), a bit of worship, oral/facefucking (m receiving), brief tit and pussy slapping, brief nipple play, a bit of aftercare, lmk if I missed any!

synopsis: The twins take their best friend on a trip with their family, and end up confessing things that weren't wanted to be said.

-> note: Scott still does have sexual trauma, but it was with his aunt (who they now have a restraining order against). I’m so sorry this took so long!

WC: 1,922 words

Sam and Scott were going on a trip to Maine; their grandparents had owned a house there and they handed it down to their parents, so now they used it as a vacation home whenever they were going up there for a bit. This time, though, they wanted to bring an extra guest.

"Morning, mom," Scott said as he came down the stairs from his room. Sam was already in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. It was rare to see him actually eating elsewhere besides his own room, but his excuse was he "just felt like it."

"Hi, sweetie," she responds lovingly as she makes herself some waffles, "what do you want for breakfast?"

"Uhm... I'll just have some cereal," he decides, grabbing the box and pouring some into a bowl he fetches as well.

The silence was deafening, and all it did was create a slight tension in the room. "Mom..." Scott starts, and he looks at Sam, raising his eyebrows at him. They discussed this last night, wanting to ask to bring their best friend (and crush) along with them, but they never really came to a final thought. Sam shook his head quickly, but stopped and continued eating his food normally when their mother turned around.

"Yes?" she said. "What is it?"

He hesitates for a minute, wondering if he should give into not asking like his brother wanted him to, but he decided to ask anyways, being the asshole he is. "...Can our friend come with us to Maine?"

Sam groaned, slamming his head onto the island in frustration, which earned him a silently scolding look from his mother. He was fucked as soon as Sam could get him alone.

"The one that dresses like you?" she asks, to which he nods. "...Well, we all like her and enjoy her company. So, to be honest, I don't see why not."

Scott's eyes widened in surprise, and Sam's head shot up, his expression one of pure shock too. "What?" their voices rung out through the kitchen.

"A thing at work popped up, emergency, so I can't go with you guys. However, I'd be more than happy if she went with you both, so then you'll have someone else to hang out with. I was going to invite her anyways."

They certainly didn't see that coming.

That’s how they ended up loading up their mom’s van with their bags, waiting for her to show up. Their hearts pounded in their ears, the tension only heightening with each passing second.

And then she showed up, wearing a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants. It was going to be a long ride, so it made sense why she’d want to dress comfortable. But all it did was make their cocks harden in their pants. They thought she looked good in anything; she could wear a potato sack and they’d still get aroused.

“Hey, guys,” she greets as she carries her bags with her, gently putting them on the ground to return the hugs they immediately gave her. They were acting like they were little kids on Christmas with how excited they were.

“Hey,” Sam said, ruffling her hair a bit playfully. “You excited?”

“You should be,” Scott chimed in, “the place we have in Maine is huge. We got jet skis and kayaks for the lake, we got a shit ton of games… It’s gonna be so fuckin’ fun.”

"I bet," she responds as she puts her bags in the back, the twins following suit with theirs. Sam couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt; she might just think of them as friends, but they wanted something more. What if they completely screwed up if they told her, and that their friendship was ruined?

Scott felt the sudden tension from his brother, since they're pretty much involuntarily synced, and elbows him lightly. They both lock in a stare, and immediately, Scott knows what he's thinking about. "It'll be fine, man," he whispers to his brother.

"Are you sure about that?" he murmurs back, hoping it didn't seem suspicious. However, he felt a bit of relief since she was already opening the door and getting in the car. "I just... I don't know about this, dude."

"We at least gotta try," Scott says, "because we'll never know if we don't. You know she ain't gonna make the first move if she does feel the same."

Sam nods a little, "I know, I know. I guess we can try... I at least wanna stay friends. But what if she doesn't wanna?"

He sighs. "Then we'll just have to live with that. Somehow."

The both of them just decide it's probably the best that they stop talking, and they both get in the car as well. They weren't going to get anywhere just sitting there with their dicks painfully hard.

Once they got there, they settled in, unpacking their things and chilling out on the couch. The place was massive, and they took pride in it as they saw how awestruck she was. They were right on the water, too, which made it even more of a beautiful area.

"I wanna go for a quick swim," she states, getting up from the couch, "you two can come if you want. Then we can watch a bunch of horror movies when I get back, like we wanted."

They nod, and Scott looks over the couch. "I'll come," he says, turning off whatever random movie they put on.

Sam only took the initiative, feeling a little bit of jealousy, "I'll come too."

And so they all changed into swimwear, and the twins couldn't help but stare as they saw her in a black bikini. She smirked, rolling her eyes playfully. "Like what you see?"

They snapped out of their trance, their faces flushing a bit in embarrassment. They were way too alike sometimes.

She chuckled, "I'm just fucking with you guys."

They made their way to the dock, and she was the first jump in, emerging a few seconds later and moving her hair away from her face. "C'mon, you chickens!" she called out. "The water's perfect."

Sam looked at his brother, who simply shrugged, before following suit and jumping in. Coming up a few seconds later, he gestured for Sam to join them. He sighed, rolling his eyes before doing the same.

Eventually it became a warzone, all of them splashing water at each other and laughing. It was perfect, the addition of the sunset making the moment even more memorable, and Sam couldn't hold it in anymore. As she sent water towards him, he went under, popping up right in front of her.

His blue-grey eyes locked on hers, and they both just looked at each other for a moment before he cupped her face and kissed her passionately. Surprisingly, she was kissing back. Thank god, that would've been awkward.

Scott, for one, was shocked. Wasn't Sam literally the one that was reluctant to do this in the first place a few hours before? However, he didn't object to the idea, making his way over to the two. He put himself behind her, grabbing her hips and kissing her neck.

She moaned a bit into the kiss as she got double the attention, wrapping her arms around Sam's neck as their tongues danced.

He picked her up while still kissing her, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her inside, Scott following the two eagerly. They were in for a wild ride.

They laid a towel on the bed, and put her down on top of it, taking a second to just admire her there. Her hair was fanned out above her head, as if it were a halo, and she was panting for air she was trying to regain from the heated kiss. They made quick work of removing their swimwear, and soon all three of them were naked.

They couldn't even believe this was happening right now, but she wasn't objecting to anything, so they took it as the hint that she wanted this just as much.

"Jus' tell us if it's too much, mkay?" Sam murmurs, to which she nods in response.

She then looks over at Scott. "Are you sure about this, Scotty?" she asks, "I don't want you to force yourself-"

"I've never wanted anything more in my entire life," he cuts her off. "I'm okay. Trust me."

He then then grabbed her hips, bringing her to the edge of the bed, his cock right at her entrance. "I'm goin' first."

Sam rolled his eyes and got on the bed above her, tapping the fat head of his dick to her lips. "Kiss."

She obeyed, giving little kisses to his tip like she were worshipping him. He smirked, satisfied. "Good girl... gonna have to make you worship me a lot more often. Lick."

She once again complied, kitten licking the throbbing head. He sighed in content, watching her submit to him as Scott pushed inside her.

She gasped, her head tilting back a bit so now her nose was touching Sam's tip, and he slapped her breast, making her cry out. "I didn't tell you to stop, slut," he growls, and she immediately goes back to kissing and licking, to which he hums in approval. "There y' go. Good fuckin' girl."

Scott set an unimaginable pace, barely giving her time to adjust. He just fit so perfectly, how could he resist? "Oh my fuck, Sam. You're gonna love this pussy just as much as I am," he grunted, "fit so nicely. She was so made for us."

"Yeah?" he says to his brother, before giving her another command. "Open."

She opens her mouth, and he slides inside, ignoring her tiny gag and he thrust into her throat. "Oh wow, baby. You're a fuckin' natural. Takin' us like a pro."

"I'm gonna cum!" she whimpered, though it was muffled because she had Sam's cock stuffed down her throat. They could make out what she said, though, and Scott only sped up, even though it felt like he was already at maximum speed.

"C'mon, cum for us," Scott coaxed, moving his hand to give little slaps on her clit, amplifying her pleasure. At the same time, Sam pinched both her nipples while still fucking her face, sending her over the edge and squirting all over Scott's cock.

He groaned and followed shortly after, shooting ropes of his hot seed inside her, her walls milking him for every last drop. Sam came at the same time as his brother, ironically, releasing his cum into her mouth and pulling out shortly after. "Show me," he commands, to which she sticks her tongue out, his seed on her tongue and in her mouth. He hums in content, smirking, "Swallow." She complies, and he leans down to kiss her.

Scott had a smug smirk on his face, too, pulling out to admire his work and watch his cum drip from her greedy hole. "Let's switch."

After a long, intense night, the three of them cuddled under the sheets, her in the middle, Scott in front of her and Sam behind her.

"...I love you guys," she whispers, still overstimulated from all the rounds they had.

Sam smiles, kissing her cheek from behind. "I love you too."

"And I love you too," Scott adds, not wanting to give his brother the upper hand, kissing her forehead.

She smiles to herself, "So, are we're like... dating now?"

"Well, duh," Sam responds, putting his chin on her head. "Just not dating... each other, y'know."

Scott nods in agreement. "But we're gonna have to get used to sharing, then."

Sam smirks a bit, "I'm fine with that."

HOPE YOU ENJOYED! <3

[malka-lisitsa]

Why is your Katherine so obsessed with Stefan? I know she was obsessed with him in the show but you take it up a notch and it comes across as Stefan being Katherine's main personality trait. I think it leaves a poor taste for a woman's life to revolve around a man so much that it takes a big chunk of her autonomy. Stefan has done so much to her and it's overall a poor choice to me. I don't think Katherine - being the bad bitch that she is - would pine after Stefan after he has treated her in the worst ways :/

I thought about this all day, and I decided to answer it anyway so here goes.

Katherine is extremely obsessed with Stefan in the show too? Like the second she saw him that was her entire goal in life was to be with him? She watched him for 145 years while she planned her big break for freedom from Klaus so she could be with him for REAL- She ONLY came out of the shadows because Stefan started fucking around with Elena. "I came back for you." She literally screwed herself over revealing herself to them because of Stefan. She continues to help Stefan for the entire 3 year he absolutely treats her like shit.

Which btw she DOES fuck him up several times in retaliation but never stops trying to win him back even though he's spat in her face several times. She gets turned human literally tries to off herself and Stefan just says "Suck it up" and shes right back on the obsessive wagon to win Stefan back. He fucked her, snubbed her, literally SHATTERED HER ENTIRE WORLD- and she STILL snatched Elena's body with the goal of getting Stefan back. Which was the dumbest choice on her part- but you know what she was terrified of death, out of her damn MIND with paranoia and clinging to the thing she KNOWS makes her happier than anything else- STEFAN.

LITERALLY GETS SENT TO HELL AND COMES BACK AFTER STEFAN- So yes absolutely she pines after him despite all the shitty things he did to her.

The only thing that changes in my writing? Is I give the emotional insight to why she acts like that. The internal drive. The bond that she feels to him in detail as opposed to us just seeing her on screen saying she loves Stefan.

Katherine got Silas levels of the Doppelganger draw and it fucked her up badly. She absolutely was obsessed with Stefan she loves him more than anything or anyone. Katherine's goal has been LOVE since she was a human. She was literally a shadow of an extremely tragic love story. AND YET- while being completely bound to him in ways not even she fucking understands she still found a way to be the baddest bitch of all. She didnt LOSE anything by loving Stefan so hard. She CHOSE to dedicate everything she had to being with him because SHE WANTED her happy ending. Katherine decided what she wanted and KATHERINE went after it.

It didn't take anything away from her character at all and neither do I.

Saying Katherine is less of a bad bitch because she wants to be with Stefan so bad she acts a little stupid sometimes is the same bullshit as saying house wives are less than career women. Katherine decided what she wanted and she went for it. Just because she decided she wanted a man and not world domination doesnt take ANYTHING away from her. She was NEVER extremely ambitious she ONLY wanted to be HAPPY and STEFAN MADE HER HAPPY.

Katherine's main personality trait is that she wants her happy ending, she wants to be loved the way she loves, she wants to be able to keep and enjoy that love, and she wants what she fucking wants when she wants it. Shes a driven highly capable woman and her choice of main focus being Stefan doesnt take any of that shit away from her. Shes a BAD ASS with or without Stefan, but SHE wants STEFAN.

It would be so out of character to just have her decide she doesn't care that much and fuck off to do... what? Shes not a world domination type. She only wants safety and love- so if she ditched Stefan she'd just go after another lover. Oh wait like Elijah. And when that didnt work out she went right back to Stefan. So really idk what your beef is here. Katherine has always been a character whos main trait was she wants love. Just turns out the love she wants is Stefan's.

She makes shitty choices sometimes that get her in hot water regarding Stefan but none of her autonomy is ever taken from her unless Klaus is involved because he literally compels her. Katherine does what Katherine wants at all times PERIOD. Idk what kind of new age feminism you're trying to force on Katherine as a character but her being all about love and just wanting her happy ending doesn't make her any less of a bad ass and personally I think it's kinda sad that you'd say that.

Katherine was the fox that out ran the hound for 500 years both WITH and WITHOUT Stefan. She continued to thwart his plans and be a general thorn in his side, she continued to be the badest bitch, and an absolute legend ALL WHILE pining after Stefan. Katherine wanted to be happy and she knew Stefan made her happy. It takes nothing from her to have her goal be a happy ending with a man. Sorry that leaves a bad taste in your mouth but I will continue to keep her true to character and her love for Stefan in every verse it's applicable in thank you.

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: Cucurucho, you have a lot of power, right?

Cucurucho: ...I don't know. Maybe.

Roier: Ah... Yes, you know, don't act like a dumbass, you have it. You have it, man. Eh?

Jaiden: Is there a way for us to protect all the Eggs? Do you know? I don't want anything to happen to the Eggs that happened to Bobby.

Cucurucho: Ha ha ha

Roier: WHAT? [Smacks Cucurucho]

Jaiden: [Bops him] Headpats.

Cucurucho: Maybe.

Jaiden: [Continues to bop him] Headpats. C'mon, I can get it out of you! Headpats! Chin scratches! Belly rubs!

Roier: [Joins Jaiden in bopping Cucurucho, chuckling and laughs]

Jaiden: Yeah? He's comin' around!

[Jaiden and Roier both laugh]

[sharkdays]

"That despite having experienced inhuman suffering, she has nonetheless been able to gain the strength to face life."