#but like can he smell low blood sugar too

[unofficial-trader-joes]

do you think hannibal can smell when will is ovulating

[shanastoryteller]

Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ WHO DID IT? ❞

—poly!satosugu xmas shenanigans, satosugu x reader, justice for satoru he just wanted to make candy canes !

The day was going well. Splendid, even. It’s almost Christmas, and the chilly weather makes sure to remind you, flakes of snow peppering the ground and crunching beneath your boots. You’ve completed the task of some nice, last minute shopping for your husbands’ students, picking up some coffee orders, not forgetting a few of Gojo’s favorite desserts from that same coffee shop, and then you were back home in no time. Walking inside, you’re engulfed with a feeling of warmth and coziness, the smell of sugar with a hint of peppermint permeating in the air. Your call of ‘I’m back!’ suspiciously goes unanswered, but you assume your husbands are either distracted or out of earshot.

The honeyed scent of sugar grows stronger as you enter the kitchen, setting bags of gifts and groceries on the floors and countertops. Speaking of countertops…your brows knit, mouth agape in absolute shock as you really take in the center of what was once gorgeous marble. You hear Gojo’s boisterous laughter in the living room, Geto’s faint conversation underneath, and make a beeline straight for them. Upon your arrival, Geto spots you first, and the wide-eyed glance he shares between you and Gojo is very telling.

It’s a simple question.“Who did it?”

And yet getting an answer, at least from one of them, is like pulling teeth.

Satoru halts mid-sentence, turning to beam innocently at you, ignoring the bitter look in your eyes, out for blood. If Suguru’s simmering glare at his idiot counterpart is any indication, then you’ve already gotten your answer.

Said idiot is so good at playing dumb, as if something like this isn’t obviously his doing. “What’s wrong, baby?”

A small breath of exasperation leaves Geto as he takes in the interaction. He thinks Gojo is really in for it this time, he can tell by your body language alone that you’ve got some choice words for this man. Maybe you’ll actually kill him this time. Geto chuckles a good riddance, so low even he can barely hear it. Can’t afford to show too much amusement, lest he get caught in the whirlwind of your fury.

Your foot taps, impatient. Brand new countertops. Not even a month old, they told you to consider them as part of an “extra early Christmas gift”. Ruined with large, faded, circular marks right in the center, on display, and faintly reeking of peppermint.

Suguru grows hot as your furious gaze shifts to him, finger with a mind of its own as it points to Gojo. “He wanted to make candy ca–“

“What the hell, I thought we had an agreement?”

“I’m not taking the fall for this with you over that dumbass idea.”

“Dumbass? You were on board when I suggested it!”

“And that was my mistake for assuming you’d done more than five minutes of research and knew what you were doing.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get in the spirit of Christm– ow!”

The sharp pinch on his ear leaves Satoru yelping like a hurt dog, stumbling along as you drag him into the kitchen, and Geto takes extreme joy in the small snippets of Gojo’s excuses as he fails to plead his case.

“Baby, my extremely beautiful, lovely, gorgeous wife, I just miscalculated a little, a tiny mist–“

“Mistake?” With your incredulous tone, one can only imagine the look on your face right now. “Look what you did to the countertop, Satoru, don’t come in my damn kitchen tryna be a professional chef or candy maker or whatever!”

A groan. “Technically,” and Suguru cringes immediately, head sinking back on the couch. “It’s all of our kitchen.”

The immediate silence afterward is heavy enough to weigh down a bear. Followed shortly by Satoru’s meek “Ya know what, you’re so right, baby. Your kitchen.”

[a-twistedheartslonging]

What if maybe period stuff with the nonhuam au boys? Maybe nsfw?

I guess I'll make this an in-general thing.

With the whole "animal senses" thing they will be able to sniff out some of the stuff going on with your body before you even know about it like low blood sugar, being sick, or even that your period is going to start early this month.

It would be easy to assume the guys wouldn't know a lot about it but I would like to think that NRC has at least some half-decent Sex ED, there are a bunch of different kinds of beast people after all with different junk and breeding habits. Not only that but there are actually a few animals that do menstruate, such as certain kinds of monkeys/apes, certain bats, certain mice. So though not common it isn't only a human thing.

Sure, it's pretty much an all-boys school but gender queer people are a thing and there's bound to be a few at the school so it's not like you would be alone either. (My god I bet transitioning in Twst would be so much better than here.)

I hope you're not embarrassed about it cuz all beasties are going to be able to smell it when it happens.

Grim makes a good heating pad and will lay on your lower belly and purr, maybe even make biscuits on you. It helps well with cramps.

Expect to get sniff sniffed, especially by predator beastmen, the smell and taste of blood are pretty yummy to them.

If you have a mate expect him to stay close and get nippy when the others are near.

Sex mentioned, blood, and Floyd being gross below ⬇️

Again, the smell of and taste of blood are very yummy to beasties, especially to those of the predator variety.

Leona is a fan of that time of the month, well at least the bloody part, not any of the mood swing-y stuff.

The twins in particular do actually want to eat you but don't want to hurt you so this is a wonderful opportunity for them.

Expect begging if your own the fence about letting him between your legs during this time, especially once he knows about how sex and orgasm can help with cramps.

I like to headcanon a lot of beasts already enjoy oral on account of it being the area where the scent of your sex hormones is the strongest, plus the taste. Even if you're not bleeding or in the mood for sex, he might just want to put his face there for a good sniff.

But yeah, this is a great way for him to enjoy blood and from a creature that rare in Wonderland.

Keep any bloody underwear away from Floyd cuz that fucker would actually eat them.

Jade, Floyd, Rook, and Lilia in particular love the idea of period sex and getting to see your blood all over his dick. The smell of blood together with the feeling of sex makes the animal part of his brain go frealking nuts and he has to keep himself from being too rough.

[glennrheesworld]

i know you write fluff but can you write more angst in this request.

both glenn and y/n are like dating, maybe even married. y/n is doing something when a guy comes and tries to kiss her and glenn comes rescue her.

if this is too much, you dont have to write this. you can ignore it if you want. thank you anyway :3

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮~

genre: angst & fluff pairing: Glenn x f!reader summary: When you think you can't fight any longer, Glenn comes to rescue you. warning: cursing, SA, & mention of blood

a/n: sorry for not posting in months, I've been dealing with some personal stuff in life and it's taken a huge toll on me (not proofread/rushed)

A new survivor, David, had arrived at Alexandria two days ago and his presence did nothing but discomfort you. His eyes were always somewhere else, but your face and his inappropriate comments just made it worse.

Glenn knew about this, you having told him the second time it happened. You didn't want to cause any trouble, so you kept quiet after a while.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Glenn places a hand on your waist and pulls you in to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Mm, hey,” you smile at his affection.

You notice the leather gloves he wore, wondering what he was up to. “What are you going to do?” You ask him, pointing at the gloves he wore. His gaze goes down to the gloves, “Oh, I’m going to help Rick and Daryl unload some boxes Aaron found on his run.”

Just as he said that you hear Daryl’s whistle, getting Glenn’s attention as the gates close shut. The truck drove in reverse, backing up with a few boxes loaded in the back.

“Gotta go help now,” he presses another quick kiss on your lips this time, before turning to jog towards the group.

After seeing Glenn get to the others, you turn back to what you had been doing previously; pulling out weeds and dead plants from the little garden you grew. You dig into the moist dirt, carefully pulling out stems and leaves.

You continue doing this for a while before going to the back side of the house, grabbing the hose to rinse your hands.

Glenn and the others had finished unloading the boxes, carrying them to the inside of the church so Gabriel could take care of the rest.

With one hand holding the hose, you rinse the dirt off the other. You do the same thing to the other hand before turning the hose handle off.

The sound of a low whistle gets your attention once you straighten up.

Just as you turn around, you’re met with David. You feel your heart begin to race with nervousness as you spot the smirk plastered across his face; his eyes are filled with something other than friendliness.

“What are you doing all alone, sugar?” He swipes his tongue over his top lip.

“What are you doing here?” You furrow your brows, anger, and frustration washing over you as you glare at him. He wasn’t supposed to be back here.

He lets out a chuckle, a disgusting chuckle. “Aren’t you a feisty one?” He comments, deciding to come closer to you. The look in his eyes makes you shiver as you take a step back, clearly angry.

“Let’s have some fun, baby.”

“Don’t come any closer!” You ordered him, fists tightening at your sides.

David just smirks at the sight in front of him, without doubt enjoying how you looked, all terrified yet willing to fight. “Or what?”

“Or Glenn will fuck you up—” David’s hand pulls your arm, making you tumble flush against his chest. You could smell his nasty sweat and feel the dampness on his shirt.

You pull yourself back, your wrist still in his hand. Adrenaline runs through your body, attempting to swing your free arm at him, only for him to catch it with his other hand.

“Let—” you shake your arms, trying your best to set yourself free, “—go!”

David can’t help but chuckle, turning you around to push you up against the wall of your house. Your shoes squeak on the wet grass, the hose still on the ground.

Your eyes tear up, struggling to get yourself loose from his strong grip. The feeling of not being strong enough hits your guts. David was stronger than you and you know that. Still, something in you wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

And just imagining what he could do to you frighten you to the core.

“Not so strong, are you?”

He taunts you, disgust and fear settling at the pit of your stomach. You didn’t want to cry but hot tears were already beginning to spill. You could feel your vision blur as you turned your head away, not wanting to see his monstrous face.

David presses his body against yours, trapping your legs so that kicking isn’t an option. You tremble, your strong act now gone. “Please, stop!”

With quivering lips, you shake your head as his face is close to your neck, inhaling like a creep. You shut your eyes in fear, praying he would get off you.

His free hand slithers down to your leg as he then grasps your thigh. He gives it a rough squeeze before letting out a vicious chuckle. A laugh that makes your skin prick with goosebumps.

“Heh, I can’t believe I finally have you all to myself.”

He’s suddenly yanked back by his shoulder, someone turning him around. “What the fuck—” A harsh punch shuts him up quickly, enough to make him tumble back. Blood drips down onto the grass as David brings his trembling hands to cover his nose and mouth.

David lifts his gaze from the mess in his hands to Glenn. His eyes widened with fear and before he could say any dumb excuse, Glenn lunged at him.

You take a step back, face wet with hot tears still spilling.

“You piece of shit!” Glenn is on top of David, fisting the collar of his shirt as he throws punches at David’s face. It’s not long before Glenn’s fists are covered in blood. David’s face, on the other hand, is fucked up. Badly.

David grunts on the ground, unable to keep up with defending himself. Some people hear the commotion and soon Rick comes to stop it. He grabs Glenn and pulls him off David, the grass splattered with red specks.

Glenn stumbles back, eyes trained on a badly injured David. David’s nose looked broken, blood coming out his nose. His face was just stained with his own red fluid and with a couple of yellow-greenish marks.

You watched the whole scene unfold in front of you, a trembling hand covering your mouth. What just happened made it way more difficult to process. Your mind was racing, and the tears kept spilling.

Rick was trying to calm down Glenn, who was trying so hard not to lunge at David again. The look on David’s face was clear as day; he fully regretted what he did.

“Lay your hands on my wife again and I’ll kill you!” Glenn snarls at David, full of emotion. Within a few seconds later, Glenn is in front of you, eyes softened. And badly injured David is taken to the infirmary.

He holds himself back from touching you, afraid that he might frighten you. Worry is written all over his face, his eyes searching your tear-stained face. “Love?”

His voice is gentle.

Your lips quiver before you wrap your arms around him. He lets out a shaky sigh as you weep into his embrace. And he begins to tear up.

He tightens his hug, burying your face into his shoulder as he rests his cheek on top of your head.

Although you were shattered by what you experienced earlier, you were a bit more eased to know Glenn would always be there for you.

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

[the-kr8tor]

Under the clocktower

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Synopsis: Hobie's stuck in a time loop where he keeps seeing you die over and over again. He tries to find a way to escape the loop, at the same time saving you from your fate.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, TW death, TW injuries, TW violence, established relationship. Time loop AU, angst.

My masterlist

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Hobie opens his eyes, the blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.

His body feels heavy somehow, his lungs sit weirdly in his chest, his eyes wide and alert. It's like he swung around the city while asleep.

He shakes it off attributing it to not sleeping well. Shutting off the stove he sighs at the burnt omelet. He briefly sees the clock on the stove in his peripheral- 8:00 am

Good thing he reached the kitchen before the fire alarm went off, he grabbed a nearby rag to fan away the smoke. Suddenly hearing wet feet squelch across the wooden floors, Hobie instinctively looks towards it.

"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, your hair wrapped in a fluffy towel. Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, hitting your hip against the table. You're sure it would leave a nasty bruise.

"It's too early to burn down the flat, don't you think so, love?" Hobie puts his hands on his hips, annoyed that he woke up so early. Sweats hang low on his waist, an old band shirt ripped at the sleeves, his arms and midriff on full display.

"Ow, sorry Hob," you rub your aching hip, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy" you close the small distance.

"You better be sorry," he grabs you by the waist, inching his hand toward the hastily wrapped belt of your bathrobe. "I'm still bloody tired" he says with a yawn.

"Aww, my poor baby Hobie," you cup his cheeks, "let me kiss it better" you peck the corner of his eye, your soap and strawberry scented shampoo fills his senses.

While you're distracted, he slowly unties your robe. Noticing the sly movement, you grab at Hobie's wrist. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"

"Ah shit, that's today?"

"Yep, can't be late" you kiss his lips quickly before he escalates things. "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.

"Good luck" he pulls you back by your hand, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way around" Hobie kisses your knuckles while looking into your eyes.

You chuckle, "I know what you're doing, Hobie Brown. It's not gonna work"

"Worth a shot" he finally lets you go.

The doorbell rings, both of you looking at the intrusion. Who could that be this early?

"I've got it, Love. Can't have you answering the door in your robe can I?" Hobie winks at you tiredly, which makes his eyelid move slowly.

"Very sexy, babe" you shake your head as you head back towards the bathroom.

Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.

"Ohh, hey!" He looks disappointed "Morning neighbour!" Hobie winces at how chipper this man is this early in the morning.

"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.

"Ah," he subtly looks behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"

"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, disinterested at whatever information he was about to share. He just wants to go back to bed.

He shuts the door with a bang.

"Who's at the door?" Your muffled voice rings out.

"No one, just your neighbour!" Hobie yells out so that the man outside hears it.

He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, quickly handing it off.

"Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.

"Welcome"

Hobie plops himself back on the bed, he groans when his back cracks. He falls asleep to the sound of your humming.

--

Chaos rains downtown, buildings crumble around Hobie while he pursues Green goblin. Everything went bad so fast, he didn't see it coming. Green goblin cackles menacingly while she randomly throws bombs below her hoverboard.

She went completely off the rails when Hobie got a few punches in, desperate to get away, she just started chucking random stuff at him, conveniently one of them was a bomb. The explosion threw him off, Goblin got a few blocks ahead of him, but Hobie's determined.

He swings after the flash of green, he hears the familiar chime of big ben - 6:00pm

Goblin leads him towards the tower bridge, it's packed with vehicles because of the rush hour, that's not good.

"Catch, Spider-Punk!" Goblin chucks another bomb below her, she clearly knows this one will surely cause chaos on the bridge.

With his quick thinking, Hobie grabs the bomb with his web, slinging it away from the crowd below. A shockwave resonates through the old bridge, its old wiring swings letting out a metallic groan. puffs of green smoke cloud above the area.

Hobie hears screams below him, looking down he sees the crowd scrambling away from danger. His senses send electricity through him, he looks back toward Goblin, she's now just hovering in place, in both of her hands she holds belts full of spherical bombs, she holds it against the edge of her hoverboard, threatening to let go.

"Don't you dare!" Hobie webs up both of the belts holding the spheres, ready to fling it away. Before he could do just that, the clips holding the bombs give out, time seems to slow down as Hobie watches in horror, the little balls of destruction falling down like rain. Goblin's shrill laugh pierces Hobie's ear drums.

He ignores the crazy lady, instead he goes after the green orbs. He webs as much as he can reach, quickly throwing them off the bridge, they go off the second they hit the water below. He keeps repeating this process till he's sure he got all of them out.

He lands breathlessly on the concrete, he points towards the nearest end of the bridge, guiding the remaining people off the bridge. Roaming his eyes above to see where Goblin could be.

His senses go off again, Hobie's ears perk up towards the faint ticking sound. He sees the ball bounce off a taxi, it doesn't go off, instead it just lands down the concrete with a clink. He eases up a bit, figuring it might be a dud. Until he looks inside the black taxi, Hobie sees your terrified face against the taxi's window, you're struggling to open the door.

Electricity pulses through him, sounding off alarms. The whites of his mask widen when the sphere stops ticking.

It's not defective, it was just counting down.

You finally notice him, frozen in fear. He tries to reach you, but the shockwave from the explosion stops him, Knocking him down.

The sheer force of the explosion flips the taxi, tethering close to the edge of the bridge. Green smoke covers Hobie's vision, he can barely make out the silhouette of the dark car, he throws caution into the wind, he doesn't look for more ticking bombs, instead he quickly runs toward the creaking metal.

He finally reaches you, as the car finally falls. Hobie quickly webs up the trunk of the car sticking its end on stagnant cars, and columns. He hears your muffled screams inside the deathtrap.

"Hobie!" You desperately scream for him, clinging to the car's headrest, the taxi swings against the wind. You can see him trying to pull you up.

Seeing Goblin wreaking havoc, you see her throw more bombs towards fleeing civilians, you make the conscious decision to yell at him to help them instead.

"Hobie! On your left!" Your throat burns trying to get his attention.

Thanks to his spidey senses and your desperate pleas, Hobie understands quickly, he ties the web he's holding onto a nearby truck, hopeful that it sticks until he can get you out.

"I can do both" Hobie whispers

He yanks Goblin down from her hoverboard with one precise shot of his web, she falls hard on the concrete. In one swift movement Hobie grabs his guitar on his back, using it as a bat, he swings it against the ticking bombs, before its countdown ends.

They explode in mid air, green clouds rain over the historic bridge.

Hobie runs back to you, on his way he notices that Goblin recovered and is nowhere to be seen. He'll find her later, right now he needs to save you.

He swings towards the edge where he last saw you, the only thing he sees is the cold rushing water swallowing the taxi.

His breath hitches in his throat. His knees threatened to collapse under his weight.

"No, not you" he weakly says.

Before he follows you towards the black depths, Hobie sees the Green Goblin rise up from under the bridge right in front of him, a sickenly bloody smile on her face.

"Got your little birdy, spidey" she shakes your terrified form, her claw-covered hand covers the bottom half of your face painfully, your feet floating a few inches off her board.

"Mmph!" You yelp for him as you try to reach him with your hands.

"Let them go! Or I swear I will tear you apart!" Hobie barks out, he doesn't recognize his own voice.

"Oh, okay!"

Your terrified eyes look back at him.

One minute you were in Goblin's hand, the next you were falling to your demise.

Electricity cackles around Hobie, he leaps off the edge, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Shooting a web towards you, he curses gravity, his web merely a hair's width away from your form. Your fingertips graze its ends.

Your head hits the water in a horrible cracking sound.

A cold splash hits Hobie's masked face, he braces for impact.

The water hits him like a truck, but he shakes it off, adrenaline pulses in his body like never before. He tries to find your form under the dark water.

It's dark and quiet under, the only thing he could hear is his own heart thumping in his chest. He hopes to hear yours too.

He roams his eyes, his eyes squinted looking for your familiar silhouette. Hobie finally spots you, slowly floating down towards the endless void. He swims down as fast as his limbs could, his air is running out, he's afraid yours might be too.

He grabs hold of your arm, Hobie quickly brings you against his chest, he ignores the absent beating of your heart.

Reaching the surface was an uphill battle, but he finally got you out. Stopping by the riverbank, he doesn't waste any time doing CPR.

He dares to look at your face, Hobie lets out a pained sound when he sees your dull eyes looking up at nothing, your lips slowly turning blue. He counts in his head to keep track of his chest compressions.

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

" C'mon lovey, breathe for me please"

25 26 27 28 29

Your lips are now a harsh blue color, he whispers your name like a prayer.

30

He quickly puts his lips on yours to breathe into it, he does it twice, desperation increasing in every breath he gives you. He counts again.

10 11 12 13 14 15

He lets out a pained sob, he bites his lips to stop more from coming out.

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

"I can fix this" he ignores the aching in his arms.

26 27 28 29 30

He breathes into you again and again. He takes a step back to examine you, no reaction.

Desperation, fear and anger flows through every crevice of his body. But his mind fills with you, only you.

He takes his stance again-

Silence

Searing pain ebbs out of his chest, crimson flows from the wound, Hobie finds himself impaled on Goblin's hoverboard, his back trapped in between a wall. Green Goblin lets out a victory screech.

He groans out, his blood seeps through his mouth, gagging on it.

He's dying.

How poetic he thought, dying mere minutes after you. You once joked that you're soulmates, he now thinks you're right.

"I DID IT, I KILLED SPIDER-PUNK!" Her laugh slowly fades away, like he's walking away from her.

He imagines that he does and instead of your lifeless body waiting for him, he imagines that you're standing there, smiling at him. His only wish is that you both end up at the same place.

Big Ben's clock rings out again.

"I should've tried harder," He murmurs. Darkness embraces him like an old friend.

>

Hobie opens his eyes, sunlight tears his red eyes open. He quickly sits up breathless. He grabs his chest, kneading it with his knuckles. He smells something burning.

Hobie gets up, heading towards the smell. He stares at the pan - omelette or what it used to be an omelette.

"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, almost hitting your hip against the table. Hobie stops you mid slide with his web shooters. You would've hit the table pretty hard.

Why did he know that?

You look towards Hobie looking dumbfounded. "Hobie, why are you just standing there? Turn it off!"

He snaps out of his stupor, turning down the knob he looks at you, his breathing heavy.

"Shit, sorry for yelling, Hob" you grab a rag to fan the smoke out.

You look at Hobie, he has a weird look on his face. He hugs you suddenly, his face landing on the crook of your neck. Hobie recognizes the smell of your soap and strawberry scented shampoo, he takes a deep breath.

That was just a dream, right?

"You better be sorry"

"Aw, my poor baby Hobie, did I wake you up with my culinary skills?" You rub his cheek with your thumb, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy. Let me kiss it better" you crane your neck to peck the side of his head.

Just a dream, right?

Hobie anxiously fiddles with the belt around your robe, you take it as flirting. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"

You pull away from his warmth, cupping his face, you look directly at his eyes. Hobie briefly sees your lifeless eyes staring back at him.

You take his lack of response to being sleep deprived. "Can't be late" you kiss his lips "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.

He calls after you, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way -" your doorbell rings.

"Could you get that for me?"

Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.

"Ohh, hey!" He looks behind Hobie completely ignoring him, staring at your bathrobe clad body "Morning neighbour!"

You wave at him awkwardly while you fix your robe to cover yourself up more.

Hobie notices, his eye twitches at the realization. He closes the door slightly, so he's blocking the creepy neighbor from you.

"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.

"Ah," he subtly tries to take a peek at you behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"

Hobie's ears perk at the last word. He stares at the man suspiciously.

"What did you say?"

"Ensaymada, it's a pastry with-"

"I know what the fuck that is, it's their favourite, why the fuck-"

A dream, right?

"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, he shuts the door with a bang.

He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, tossing it off.

"Oof, Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.

Hobie slowly walks back towards the bedroom, he sits on the foot of your bed. He feels tired, wondering what the hell is happening to him. He lifts his shirt to look at his chest, no sign of a wound. He looks around your room, nothing seems out of place, it's the same cream colored walls, the same bed, and dresser, the same lab coat hangs on it, ready for your first day at work.

Hobie plops down, his muscles aching for relief, he starts to drift back to sleep, until he hears you humming the same tune, in the same cadence. Hobie's eyes open in a flash.

"This already happened"

–-

Hobie goes about his day, knowing what happens today, he has the advantage. He can save you this time.

Hobie anticipates every move Goblin makes, he dodges everything she throws at him. Bombs still get thrown about, but now he has the time to react before it causes chaos.

She can't get a single hit in, watching every precise movement he makes, knowing her every move before she even does, it terrified her, so she just flies away crossing the Thames, she sees an opportunity to stop Spider-Punk from chasing her.

Goblin in her desperation, haphazardly throws every single one of her bombs below, Hobie tries to fling them away but he couldn't stop every single one of them from detonating. Loud booms and green smoke cover the iconic bridge.

What did he do wrong?

Spotting you from above, Hobie dive bombs towards you, he's a few feet above you, he reaches out to you, your fingers brush against each other as a bomb explodes near your feet.

>

Hobie opens his eyes, he feels a harsh heat staying on his face, like a lingering taste.

"FUCK!" He screams, "this can't be happening" he holds his head in his hands.

"Babe you okay?" You come out of the bathroom, smoke fills Hobie's nostrils like some kind of cruel joke.

"No! My breakfast!" You rush out.

He follows you, as you fan away the fumes, Hobie hugs you from behind.

"Hey grumpy, sorry about that" you lean against his chest, you crane your neck so he could slip his head on the crook of it.

Hobie smells your familiar scent along with a hint of smoke, he promises into your skin that he would try harder to save you, no matter how many tries it takes him.

"Are you okay? You seem out of it"

"Just tired, lovey"

"You know that I love you, right? I'm right here, you can tell me anything"

"I know"

He left your flat at the same time as you, following closely behind your cab. He's paranoid that Goblin knows that she's in a loop too and might try to get the upper hand.

Hobie finds Goblin before she could find him. He leaves her body beaten on the pavement.

How she reacts with his questions with every angry hit, it's safe to say, she doesn't know about the day resetting.

Hobie continues on throughout the day, Big Ben rings its bell - 6:00pm

This time instead of the Green Goblin surprising him, it's the Vulture.

They fight, and eventually end up on the bridge. They clash against each other, Hobie doesn't have the advantage of precognition this time, but what he has is pure unadulterated anger.

Hobie tries everything, but you still fall. Grasping your limp body, he lets the vulture take his revenge.

The clock chimes again

>

Hobie opens his eyes. This time he doesn't waste time, he swings away immediately, leaving you confused.

He finds Goblin, then the Vulture, but still another Villain replaces them.

Hobie almost beats the Lizard but alas with his enhanced healing he gets up over and over again. Hobie, exhausted and bleeding, watches you cradle his limp body, Lizard's massive shadow falls over you.

You both die in the hands of the Lizard.

>47

Hobie opens his eyes, he starts to count how many times he looped back.

No matter how he keeps killing and trapping all the villains that somehow keeps replacing each other on that bridge. More and more obscure ones start filling the role of your murderer. They seemed endless.

You and Hobie have been impaled, electrocuted, burned, and tossed into a vacuum of space. And yet he keeps coming back to the same day, on the same bed, waking up to the same smell.

He ignores it, he wonders what he did to deserve this. Seeing you die over and over again is hell. That must be it, he's in hell, he doesn't believe in it, but after hearing your pained screams, and countless times he tried to revive you, he's starting to believe in it.

You jump out of the shower, running towards your stove, you don't notice him awake.

After seeing you alive and well, he's sure this isn't hell, because if it is you wouldn't be in it.

>81

He tries something new, he confronts your weird neighbor, he lets his anger get the best of him. Hobie dumps the bag of sugar on his head, letting it fall on him like snowflakes.

You still drown, he still gets killed by Goblin.

>104

He wakes up with anger boiling inside him. Why can't he save you? Why is he so slow? Why can't he figure out what's causing this time loop? He lashes out on you leaving you sobbing on your floor.

You die in his arms this time, thinking that he doesn't love you.

He curses himself, as he lets the uncontrollable fire consume him.

>141

He invents various gadgets made from scrap, to aid him in fighting. He wasted the entire day creating them.

Hobie uses them once, but he still fails. You still fall, he gets burned.

At least he gets to bring his hardwork in the next loop right?

>142

Hobie opens his eyes, his gadgets are nowhere to be found.

He curses his optimism.

>173

He has every villain's attack pattern memorized and predicted, he stares at Vulture's lifeless body on the pavement.

He finally beat one on the bridge.

Breathless he looks behind him, he stares at your wide eyes, your white lab coat is a stark comparison to the chaos around you.

He did it, now to get you home.

Hobie was just staring at you, in a split second, you're hanging from Goblin's hoverboard, the sharp end of it sticking out of your chest.

"NO!"

Goblin laughs as she throws numerous bombs at him, Hobie falls on the bridge, his right arm no more.

"I almost had it" he weakly says as the dark waters of the Thames engulf him.

>212

Hobie's falling apart at the seams.

>237

Hobie opens his eyes, his muscles feel like they're being torn away from his bones. His eyes grow heavier with every revival. His ears are still ringing from the bell's endless chiming.

He needs help, so he goes after you in the kitchen. "Hey" he says morosely.

"G'morning, grumpy-" you turn around, gasping at the sight. Taking in his slouched posture, sunken eyes, his signature smirk notably absent. He looks exhausted.

"Hobie?" You ask, as if you weren't sure it's really him. "What happened? Are you okay?" You slowly close the distance, careful not to startle him.

"Baby?" Grabbing his shoulders, he falls forward with a thud.

"I think-" he clings to you "I think I did something wrong"

Your heart breaks for him "could you tell me what it is?"

He pulls away "I'm stuck, I don't know what to do" he cups your face, for a second, he sees blood covering it, your once bright eyes turning white, then your face comes back to normal "Please, help me"

"Let's sit down, yeah?" You lead him towards your emerald couch. Was it always this colour? It reminds him of the smoke billowing from Goblin's bombs.

He puts on a brave face, "what I'm about to tell you sounds crazy, but please stay with me" and so he tells you everything, starting from the beginning to end.

He thought not telling you of your death might help you swallow it down better, so he doesn't, instead Hobie tells you that he keeps dying over and over again.

After rambling you look at him, emotion unreadable on your face.

"I believe you," you kiss his hollow cheeks "I believe you" you put your forehead against his, grounding him to reality.

"I'm so fucking sorry, it didn't work out, our plan" he murmurs.

"What? Hobie, how many times have you asked for my help?" You pull away, cringing at your tone, he might interpret it as anger.

"This is the thirteenth time"

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Every single time I've told you, you always believed me, not once you didn't. But I've never asked you, why do you always help me?"

"Because, I love you, Hobie Brown. You could tell me that whales could walk on land, or the sky is falling and I would believe you"

For Hobie the sky IS falling, every time he sees you die, his world ends, and he's powerless to stop it.

"I have every reason to help you, because I can't lose you"

That's a first from you. Hobie never thought of it that way. He was too focused on saving you that he forgot to save himself.

Hobie thinks of something he has never done before in a couple of hundred rotations.

"So, what if we don't do anything? We just stay here, doing nothing" Hobie asks.

"We've never done that before?"

"Never, it could work. Us staying out of danger" determination sparks in his eyes.

"Then let's do just that" you smile.

Hope sparks in Hobie's veins. It has to work.

So you don't do anything all day, you don't go to work, he doesn't do his patrol, Hobie doesn't open the door.

You do your usual things at home, eating together, cleaning the flat to pass the time, savoring each other's presence.

Hobie feels his soul slowly get stitched back together again. This could work.

Your alarm rings out, he glimpses at it 6:00pm

His heart thumps in his chest loudly, he's sure you could hear it too from where you're cuddling into him. You make a fist, before rubbing your knuckles over his chest, your way of calming him down.

You're both gonna make it to tomorrow, he's sure of it.

"I don't know how this could end, but I want you to know that I love you so fucking much. If we make it to tomorrow, know that I will continue loving you every day" he wipes a lone tear on your cheek. "If we keep reliving the same day over again, I will love you in every cycle"

You crane your neck to kiss him, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Your lips never reached his.

>238

Hobie opens his eyes, He lets out a guttural scream.

You rush out of the bathroom, concerned.

He tells you what's happening again.

You have the brilliant idea to leave, just leave the city till the sun rises the next day.

You borrow a car from a friend, grabbing a few necessities, you drive off.

Hobie watches you from the passenger seat, the sun bathes you in its light, giving you a halo of soft light around your head. He smiles tiredly, this could be it.

Once the two of you hit the outskirts of London, darkness wraps him in an embrace.

>239

Hobie opens his eyes.

They tried a train this time. Everything seems to be moving smoothly.

Until the train skids to a violent stop, derailing it. Bags and people start flying around. He tries to web them into place.

He grabs your body shielding you. The train lights shut off, bathing them in darkness while their bodies get thrashed around.

Hobie hears a harsh cracking sound.

The train finally stops, its emergency light turns on, he sees you in his arms bathed in the dim light. Why are your eyes closed?

Hobie feels something warm hit his hand, He lifts his hand away from the back of your head, gore covers his hand. Hot crimson seeps into his clothes.

Not again.

Why does he need to see this again?

Why?

Hobie weeps, as he cradles your body. He lifts his head towards nothing but at the same time looking at you.

"Why aren't you helping me?! Why are you just sitting there watching all of this-"

>240

Hobie opens his eyes. The blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.

>276

He hates that he's getting desensitized everytime you breathe your last.

But no matter how many times he changes some things, he will always try to save you.

Hobie's exhausted, he feels his mind get numb with every rotation.

He feels like he's watching himself, like a ghost haunting his own body.

>348

He's accepted it, after numerous times trying to get out, he accepts his fate.

Hobie convinces you to stay home and spend time with him, he doesn't tell you why, but by just looking at him, you know he needs you now more than ever. So you stay.

The rigmarole starts where he convinces you to remain home, Hobie keeps you close, you do the exact same things together until it's time for the reset.

>349

He does this over

>356

And over

>381

Again.

>391

He stares at your blue walls, was it always blue?

Your neighbour doesn't knock anymore.

>414

He notices things looking different, your once pristine oak table now looks old.

Your white lab coat is now a slight yellow.

Your kitchen ceiling is covered in soot.

What's happening?

>449

Hobie can't help but look back at you burning a hole on the side of his head with your stares.

"What is it, love?" His voice hoarse.

"You don't look too well Hobie, are you okay?" Concern fills your voice. He pretends this is the first time you've asked him that question.

"Of course I'm okay"

Liar.

"Shut up" He blurts out.

"It's just that you haven't smiled the entire day. I'm sorry, okay, I- I'll drop it" tears prick your eyes.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't- fuck" he rubs his tired face.

"Please tell me what's bothering you" you sniff.

You're met with silence.

"You know I love you right?" You rub his arm, comforting him.

Those three words wake him up. He remembers now, his promise to you. But it comes with a harsh realization.

"I don't think I can save you"

He tells you everything, your deaths, every violent end, every pain that could've been prevented.

Every single cycle.

You look at him, tears threatening to spill out. "You've spent a hundred lifetimes with me?"

"I'm sorry for being selfish" he hugs you tightly, your body shaking. You finally let the tears fall. "I'm so fucking sorry"

You spend a moment in his arms, contemplating your own end.

"Hobie," you reluctantly pull away, "promise me something, okay?" He nods "promise me you'll let go?"

"We-I can keep trying"

"No, you have to stop. You need to go on without me" you cup his face "Don't let me stop you from moving forward" you kiss every inch of his face to soften the blow.

"I don't think I can," his eyes shine with unshed tears.

"Yes, you can, eventually" a sob breaks out of you "eventually you will, just don't you dare ever forget that I love you so much it hurts"

You duck your head to meet his eyes "promise me in the next cycle, don't tell me anything, and you can't convince me to stay with you the entire day, okay?" You wipe his tears with your thumb "you let it happen, just like the first time"

Tears flow out of you freely. He guides you to meet his lips one last time, memorizing every second of it. "I promise. Wait for me, yeah?"

"I'll wait for you no matter how long it takes"

Your alarm rings out.

>450

Hobie's eyes open. He jumps out of bed, turning off the stove before smoke could billow out. Hobie prepares your omelette for you.

He watches you eat happily. Hobie takes a mental picture of the scene.

He lets it happen, no matter how much it hurts his soul, but he promised you, so he lets you go.

You fall.

He fights Goblin until she can't fight him anymore.

Hobie wins, but your life is forfeit. Did he even win when he can't even fulfill the promise he made hundreds of rotations ago?

He dives after your body, he knows you're already gone the second your head hits the water.

Hobie places you on the same riverbank like he has done a hundred times before.

Hobie rubs his knuckles over your heart, he says his final goodbye. "I'll see you when I get there"

He hears sirens coming towards the riverbank, you'll be okay.

He hears the familiar bell.

Hobie swings back home to your flat. His knees give out from under him. He falls on your bed with a thud, sleep hits his exhausted body.

—

Hobie opens his eyes, your telephone rings endlessly in the living room. No burning smell, no hint of strawberry in the air.

He looks at your clock- 11:00 the new date mocking him in red numbers.

Hobie did it, he broke free but now he has to live in a world where you don't exist anymore. Your promise echoes in his ears like a mantra.

A/n: I've hc'd that Hobie would definitely find out he's in a time loop by the second reset lol. Hope you liked it! Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*the picture above is from pinterest*

[waxingrunes]

I understand if you’re too busy to answer this or don’t want to, but i was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling us some of your non-explicit headcanons or just some traits you think wolfstar have in general? Your explicit ones are sososo hot but today I'm feeling low and need some comforting. Yiur blog is just a safe space for me but I totally understand if not! I love your work <3 all my love x

There are so many nondescript hc’s I have that this has the potential to turn into a formal essay with cited sources, so I’ll go for more of a generalised dump of info I have for each in a hope that it lifts some of your fog Anon. Maybe bullet pointed because it’ll be easier to read than my usual untidy form of communication. Hope you feel lighter soon.

Sirius

• will lick a yoghurt pot if there’s no clean spoons. There’s the option to go for fruit instead, but he wants the yoghurt and by god he will get his yoghurt

• is a fucking terrible driver, gives Remus and any passenger white knuckles due to speed issues and not using a lower gear when taking corners

• is however, in complete control when on a motorcycle; very hot, very controlled and will take his passenger’s safety very seriously

• professionally trained in ballroom and ballet, the latter which he is sometimes mocked in jest for, even by Remus, until he one time caught him stretching elegantly on the floor one morning with his upper body laid flat between long, toned, wide spread legs, ‘morning moony’, a healthy blush on his cheeks

• private crier, doesn’t cry easily

• goes quiet when angry as an initial defence but it doesn’t take long for him to start dropping breadcrumbs of sarcastic comments; can also be snobby and bratty, perhaps sometimes will get nasty and direct (bringing up things he shouldn’t to score points in the heat of the moment)

• suffers immeasurable guilt (helped by the point above) but is always masking a weighted feeling of guilt no matter what he’s doing, so much so it’s manifested into quite a serious anxiety problem in the wrong crowds

• he fidgets a lot, not in a chaotic way, just always has to have his fingers busy with something

• likes the smell of gasoline

• once had to talk himself down from throwing a child in a dustbin

• loves the colour red; blood red and cherry red to be precise but secretly loves dark blue even more because it’s what looks most handsome on Remus despite him not wearing it often

• sighs a lot

• pretended he couldn’t speak English to get away with jumping a queue

• hates the smell and taste of liquorice (unless heavily strawberry/cherry/raspberry flavoured)

• on one particular messy night out he got so impatient waiting at the bar, he reached over and grabbed a discarded bottle of alcohol the server had left open and swigged it

• digs his nails into his skin when anxious and is often reminded to relax the tension in his joints

• stargazes often

• once linked his pinky finger with Remus and asked him to pinky promise not to tell anyone what he was about to tell him, since which a tradition of trust was born where Remus will offer his pinky or the last two fingers for Sirius to hold or squeeze when he’s feeling unsure in public, or in any situation where verbal reassurance isn’t appropriate

• gets a weird thrill at the sound of cork popping from a bottle

Remus

• collects beer mats and keeps them in a drawer, thinks about making them into a display

• got tired of kids playing ball against the wall of his place (after repeat offences and him asking very nicely for them to stop) one day so went out, retrieved the ball and threw it so hard against of the cars it set the alarm off

• owner of said car came running out the house and Remus blamed it on the children. Never had the same issue again

• has a wildly sweet tooth and will always drop one or two packets of sugar into any warm beverage

• stares into space and gets involuntarily caught on someone’s face one too many times which makes them uncomfortable from the ‘Death Stare’ phenomenon when in reality, he’s lost in lala land

• can cook, is actually a proficient cook, but will not cook for anyone but Sirius, James or Lily

• will crack his knuckles, wrists and neck absentmindedly, all of which makes his company squirm because it’s often very loud and ‘pop-py’ but Sirius fucking loves it

• stays very calm during an argument but can shout louder than most and when he does, ears ring from the silence that follows

• prefers tea over coffee

• will eat liquorice any time he wants to piss Sirius off

• cries more than Sirius, but still a private crier

• always has to be the old boot in Monopoly

• loves words that are vowel heavy or double voweled because those are the ones where the scraps of Sirius’ lost French accent surface the most

• has a gentle touch, is aware of his size and nature of his lycanthropy, therefore always somewhat reserved

• loves socks, has a collection of ‘dad socks’

• has the messiest writing out of all the Marauders but loves handwritten things, owns three very different fountain pens for very different purposes

• is polite, but as he’s aged doesn’t tend to ‘fake smile’ a lot, feeling no need to fill uncomfortable silences for the sake of others

• has a chair he favours and often dozes off in it. Most of the time waking up to Sirius on top of him

[femininenachos]

Thank you so much Queen for the vacation au update, much appreciated 🫡 Clarke is a lot of talk no action w that p eating tho

Ye of little faith…

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Once again, Clarke finds herself led by the hand through a warren of side streets, the irregular-shaped stone paving burning beneath the cork soles of her flip-flops. She’s still flying high from the exhilaration of the boat trip, but between the blistering afternoon heat and the effects of low blood sugar, she feels flushed and a little light-headed.

As though she read Clarke’s mind, Lexa pulls them to a stop under the shaded awning of an unassuming bakery. The aroma of freshly-baked bread, hot out the oven wafts from the open doorway. 

Lexa tips her head in invitation. “Want to grab a bite to go?”

“You did make me work up an appetite.”

And if things shake out like Lexa implied back at the cove, Clarke will definitely need to carb-load for what lies ahead.

They trade smirks as Lexa tugs them over the threshold. 

If it’s oppressively hot outdoors then it’s like stepping into a blast furnace inside. Even so, Clarke is drawn straight away to the pastries and savoury treats in the display counter. Emerging noisily from somewhere out back, a great, bearded bear of man enters carrying a large tray of bread rolls. He sets them on the cooling rack before ambling over, a broad smile in place.

“Leksa! Ha yu?” He glances between the two of them, a kind twinkle in his eyes. “Chon ste oyu brana lukot?”

“Dishe ste Klark.” Then in English, “Clarke, meet Gustus. My uncle.”

“Aulana?” He scrutinises Clarke for a second, an eyebrow going up. “American?”

What gives it away, she wonders, a little paranoid that she has a neon sign above her head that screams ‘obnoxious Yank’ in star-spangled red, white and blue.

Still, she pastes on her most winning smile, keen to make a good impression.

“Thanks for letting us borrow your boat this morning. We had such a great time.”

He says something in his own language, most of which Clarke doesn’t catch except “sadrona” (which she makes a mental note to look up later online), but she observes with interest that Lexa’s eyes slide away to fixate elsewhere while a rosy tint stains her high cheekbones.

“What can I get for you?” He directs the question at Clarke, his voice a warm rumble.

She adjusts the sunglasses perched on the top of her head and peers at the array of delicious-looking bakes through the glass. “Hard to choose when it all smells so amazing.” 

“Try the fleivatous,” Lexa suggests. “It’s a Polisian speciality, and my favourite: a flatbread stuffed with spices, nuts and dried berries.”

“Can’t beat that glowing recommendation.”

Gustus loosens a chuckle. “Lexa has always had a sweet tooth.”

“That’s not all that’s sweet about her,” Clarke says, low enough only for Lexa to hear. Secretly pleased when Lexa’s face reddens further.

To Gustus, Clarke says: “I’ll take two slices, and a couple of...” She points at a stack of parcel-shaped golden pastries with a beautifully shiny glaze. “What are these?”

”Fetabeik. Phyllo pastry layered with cheese.”

“Oh, yum. Yes, please.”

“I like this one, Lexa,” Gustus says with a wink as he boxes the pastries together.

Lexa sends him a forbidding look that only results in a hearty laugh. For her part, Clarke feels weirdly at ease and unflappable in the face of this man’s gentle ribbing. It’s all she can do to stop herself from beaming at the scowl on Lexa’s face. 

“How much do I owe?” Clarke asks.

Gustus holds up his palms, backing away. “No charge.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he waves her off, saying, “No, no. I insist. Just be good to my niece and that’s payment enough for me.”

“Uncle,” Lexa says, groaning.

She snatches the box off the counter and grabs Clarke’s hand too. “We’re going now.”

“Bye!” Clarke tosses over her shoulder with a small wave but she’s already halfway out the door, his laughter trailing after them. 

“He was nice,” she says with an impish grin as they continue walking.

Lexa’s lips are pursed, but she says nothing. So Clarke bumps their shoulders and squeezes the fingers entwined with hers. Wraps her free hand around the bend in Lexa’s arm, stroking the soft, warm skin beneath her thumb. “Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re embarrassed?”

It earns a grudging sigh, but then Lexa glances at her and relents. She rolls her eyes a little. 

“Wait until I visit you in DC and the shoe will be on the other foot.”

For a moment Clarke imagines introducing Lexa to her own nearest and dearest and how that might go. It doesn’t fill her with as much apprehension as she might expect.

“No risk of running into my family there. My mom teaches at Cornell in upstate New York and my dad’s in Texas for work. They divorced when I was a kid.”

Lexa offers a soft look of sympathy that Clarke meets with a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. Fortunately, it was amicable.” She pauses. “I mean, it was still confusing and upsetting for me as an eight year-old, but they’re the best of friends now. Both remarried. We spend Thanksgiving and the holidays together.”

“So… what I’m hearing is I should come in late November or December.”

Clarke’s mouth twists. “Do you crack under interrogation? Because my mom won’t give you an easy time.”

“Parents adore me. I’m polite and respectful and very attentive to their daughter.”

“‘Attentive.’” She eyes Lexa amusedly. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

~*~

At the farthest edge of the town new residential developments have sprung up, modern buildings that are more or less in harmony with the surrounding traditional houses: all whitewashed walls and cobalt blue shutters, the flowering hanging baskets that frame the doorways providing vibrant pops of colour in purple and pink. A backdrop of rugged, scrub-covered mountains looms in the distance while a slice of jagged coastline is visible to the west, and it all feels pleasantly removed from the historic quarter where the tourists flock in their droves.

“Here we are. This is my home,” Lexa says, nodding toward a two-storey apartment block.

“Any roommates?”

“No, I live alone.”

“Good.” 

The look they exchange makes Clarke’s skin prickle and her pulse kick up a notch. 

They climb the stoop and two flights of stairs and Clarke follows Lexa inside. The place is small, the kitchen opening out into a sparsely furnished lounge area, but the high ceilings and sunlight flooding in through the double aspect windows gives it a bright and airy feel. The kitchen window is cracked open, just enough to allow a faint sea breeze in, and the wind chime that dangles above it tinkles musically every now and again.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lexa says, putting the pastry box on the counter. 

There’s a solitary coffee mug by the sink with a spoon in it—rinsed out already. Try as she might, Clarke can’t pick fault or see anything else that’s out of place. 

“If this is what qualifies as quote-unquote mess then I’m doing adulthood all wrong. My apartment looks like a bomb site compared to yours.”

“Blame military service. Some parts of the regimented lifestyle are difficult to let go.”

“Now you’ve got me picturing you in uniform, and I’m not mad about it.” 

A coy little smile sits on Lexa’s lips, and the sight of it propels Clarke forward. She crosses the tiled floor to wordlessly crowd Lexa against the counter and kiss her, both hands gripping the back of her neck as they open their mouths. Warm, sure hands roam down Clarke’s sides to grasp her by the hips and before she knows it, Lexa has her spun around. 

Pinned between the counter and Lexa’s frame, back to front, Clarke feels humid breath ghost over her ear, her neck, the join where it meets her shoulder, lips hovering close yet still withholding, and it’s enough to make her knees buckle slightly.

She reaches behind to guide Lexa’s mouth back to hers, greedy for more. A blissful sigh escapes when Lexa runs her palms up, curving around her breasts, only for Clarke to be frustrated by the inconvenient layers of cotton and spandex between them.

They need to be naked. Now. 

Driven by that imperative, Clarke twists back around and yanks Lexa’s button-down off her shoulders. The tank top swiftly follows, landing in a heap at their feet, and their lips remain fused while she walks Lexa backwards until they bump into the couch. 

Clarke shoves Lexa down and remains standing, gratified by the wide, hungry eyes staring up at her. 

Too impatient to put on a performance, she whips off her t-shirt and steps out of her shorts. They’re still caught on her ankle when Lexa grabs her by the waist, pulling Clarke onto her lap and back to her waiting lips.

While their mouths are busy, Clarke lets her hands travel over Lexa’s chest. Feeling her way. Circling hard nipples with her thumbs. A whimper catches in Lexa’s throat and it thrills Clarke to the core. The tugging ache of arousal hasn’t left her since they fled the cove and her belly twists sharply with want as she slips to the floor on her knees between the spread of Lexa’s legs. 

Clarke kisses down Lexa’s abdomen, smirking as muscles twitch and contract under her lips, still able to taste the sun and sea on Lexa’s skin. She doesn’t abandon her grip on Lexa’s breasts until her chin grazes the waistband of Lexa’s shorts and she hears the deep breath Lexa draws in, feels her tense in anticipation.

Hooking her thumbs under the elastic, Clarke looks up the length of Lexa’s body, eyes fastening on her chest and the tempting jut of her nipples. Unable to resist, she leans up and takes one between her lips. Runs her tongue around the pebbled areola. Slow swirls at first then faster as she narrows in on the tip and sucks hard. Lexa’s low groan, how she arches into it, fingers sinking into Clarke’s hair, gathering a fistful at her nape, only adds to her excitement.

She meets Lexa’s lidded gaze and the air seems to sizzle, those darkened eyes burning, hungrily watching Clarke’s every move. 

Under that rapt attention, she switches to Lexa’s other breast. Mouths all around, eyes remaining glued to Lexa’s while she licks a wet path to the straining nipple, catching it on the flat of her tongue, flicking the tip before sucking it into her mouth.

For the next long while, Clarke gorges herself on every inch of soft flesh until Lexa’s tits are shiny with saliva and a stream of breathy little moans are dropping from her lips. She keeps moving her hips, rocking into Clarke in the pursuit of friction, sighing heavily when she edges away.

Feeling much too smug about the effect she’s having, Clarke wants to grin ear to ear, but she briefly smothers her smile in the curve of one breast. Flattens her hand between their bodies and slips inside Lexa’s shorts.

They both groan as Clarke skims through the wetness, gliding over Lexa’s clit and making her hips jump.

“What do you want first?” Clarke asks, swirling the tip of one finger at Lexa’s entrance. “This or…?”

Lexa’s throat works before she replies with, “Mouth. Please.”

“So polite.”

There’s a teasing undertone, but Clarke has no desire to drag this out and make Lexa beg, not when she’s so tightly wound herself. It’s for both their sakes that she quickly shuffles to the side and tugs the shorts down Lexa’s impossibly long legs. 

Clarke can’t help but stare, soaking up the sight of all that glowing tan skin on display. In the haze of lust, she moves on autopilot. She trails her hands up Lexa’s shins to grip her knees. Gently pushes them apart and situates herself between. Her breath catches when her eyes settle low, on Lexa, wet and swollen for her. 

It’s Clarke’s new favourite view this island has to offer.

Lexa opens her legs wider.

All the encouragement Clarke needs to hook her hands under Lexa’s thighs and drag her to the edge of the couch. The air is thick with the heady, musky scent of arousal and Clarke breathes it in, filling her lungs. Powerless not to flow forward, to press her open mouth there and drink from the source.

A shiver racks Lexa’s body and she bites off a curse when Clarke’s tongue eases in. Hands tangle in her hair, winding tighter against her scalp, and Clarke relaxes her jaw to work deeper, curling her tongue to draw more wetness into her mouth, the tang filling every space as she emits an appreciative groan. Maybe it’s a product of the local diet, but Lexa is by far the best flavour Clarke has ever had on her tongue.

Pulling back an inch, she pins Lexa by the hips and licks her slowly, deliberately, dragging her tongue up to trace patterns around Lexa’s clit. She mixes firm laps with gentle suction and little nudges with her nose, sometimes lifting her mouth away just to breathe on Lexa while she strains to get closer.

All the while Lexa is practically writhing on the receiving end, gasping and stifling a moan each time Clarke presses her tongue inside, limited by its reach and the growing ache in her jaw to just a few shallow thrusts that Lexa urgently rocks down to meet. 

And when Clarke’s eyes flick up to watch, she’s mesmerised by Lexa in the throes. Her hair has dried into a mass of marvellous curls, and Clarke is wholly infatuated with it. That, and the way the sunlight pouring through the windows paints her golden skin, catching the beads of perspiration that dot her throat and chest as she arches her spine and spreads herself even wider, directing Clarke by the grip on her hair. 

Lexa’s calves tremble with exertion as she picks up the pace, her gasping breaths becoming thinner and more ragged as she chases the pleasure.

Sensing the unspoken need, Clarke reaches for Lexa’s clit, using the soft pad of her thumb to rub tight, firm circles while she extends her tongue, pushing in as far as possible. Her jaw has gone numb but she powers through, determined not to falter.

As Lexa rocks her hips and Clarke plunges in and drags back out, their eyes lock and hold. In that moment of connection, Clarke sees her name form on Lexa’s lips before she throws her head back against the cushions and stiffens sharply, shuddering into Clarke’s mouth and flooding her tongue.

Lexa is near silent for the big finish, except for the gulping breaths she pulls in as she clenches and shivers and scrapes her nails against Clarke’s scalp.

After a few more lazy thrusts, Clarke withdraws with a rude slurp and takes her thumb off Lexa’s clit. She bends close again, intending to lick up the spill, but a weak tug on her hair draws her focus up. Lexa looks dazed, her mouth hanging open as her heavy eyes search Clarke’s face. 

She doesn’t even get a chance to wipe her chin before Lexa urges her up onto her lap and into a deep and dirty kiss, a muffled groan vibrating between them. Palms scorch up Clarke’s ribs to cover her tits, kneading, teasing her nipples while she shamelessly grinds on Lexa. 

It’s good, but not enough.

Breaking off the kiss, Clarke sits back on her haunches and reaches for the top piece of her swimsuit.

“Help me out of this?”

Together, they pull it up and over Clarke’s head.

She almost laughs at the reverential look on Lexa’s face once her tits are freed, like Lexa has been blessed with the greatest gift to lesbiankind. Clarke isn’t so conceited as to believe her breasts are a quasi-religious experience, but Lexa sure makes it seem that way.

After a second, Lexa snaps out of her trance and slips her hand behind Clarke’s neck to reconnect their lips. They both whimper into the kiss as they crush closer. The graze of their nipples feels electric, lighting sparks under Clarke’s skin and sending another jolt between her legs.

The muggy heat inside the apartment is stifling by now. Their stomachs and thighs stick together, slicked in sweat, but neither are inclined to separate, locked in a fervent makeout. Clarke is breathing hard by the time Lexa rolls her over and peels the rest of her swimsuit off.

Unselfconscious, Clarke lets her thighs fall open, and Lexa needs no greater incentive to drop to her knees. A moan slips out before Lexa even puts her mouth on her, so hyper-aware is Clarke of the gentle fan of warm breath over her vulva. But at the very last second Lexa veers away to plant kisses on the insides of Clarke’s thighs and she isn’t capable of containing her huff of frustration. 

She feels the stretch of Lexa’s smile, but before Clarke can vocalise any complaints, Lexa turns her face and licks up the length of her. Unprepared for the shock of direct contact when it’s been sorely missing, her hips fly off the couch, almost colliding with Lexa’s nose.

“Oh, fuck,” Clarke croaks, a hand shooting out to clutch Lexa’s shoulder, the other grabbing a fistful of the cushion behind her head. “Fuck.”

“I will,” Lexa says, a glint in her eye when she catches Clarke’s. Then she holds Clarke down by the hip bones and lowers her mouth once more.

Clarke’s breath escapes her in a rush, eyes slamming shut. Her body reacts, engulfed by sensation. All scorching heat and the soft, wet glide of Lexa’s tongue as it weaves up through the slick, circles her clit, before dipping low to drag over her again and again, keeping Clarke squirming for minutes on end, rotating her hips in a frantic grind.  

She peels her eyes open to look, craning her neck to witness the complete and utter rapture on Lexa’s face. She’s covered in Clarke, lips and cheeks all shiny. And her tongue... Clarke shivers and clenches around nothing at the glimpse of pink muscle lapping at her with purpose, heat coiling tighter in her gut with each deft stroke. Every now and then Lexa presses inside, just far enough to make Clarke choke on a moan and rut her hips up in a useless attempt to force Lexa deeper. When Lexa retreats she uses a little less pressure on the next lick, too gentle and fleeting to give Clarke what she craves. 

“Lex,” she pants, a hint of aggravation bleeding into her tone after the fifth or sixth time it happens. She squeezes Lexa’s shoulder.

“What?” Lexa asks lightly, her parted lips brushing against Clarke so intimately that she feels the question breathed into her body.

She stifles a noise of pure need and grits her teeth.

Nearly howls when Lexa takes her mouth away.

“You only have to ask, Clarke.” Dark, dark eyes hold her gaze. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

It’s clear Lexa isn’t toying now. There’s something in the depths of her eyes that speaks of sincere devotion, like it’s her true calling and sacred duty to surpass herself and give Clarke the best damn orgasm of her life. From anyone else, that intensity might be a little frightening, but coming from Lexa? It’s the biggest turn-on, and Clarke is more than willing to put her through her paces.

She throws down the gauntlet with all the cocky confidence she can muster in her current position.

“Isn’t it about time you brought out the strap?”

~*~

The ceiling fan rattles and whirs overhead, merely stirring the soupy, sweat-saturated air around the room. Despite having all the windows thrown open, the scant through-breeze does little to alleviate the dense humidity or disperse the scent of sex that hangs potent and heavy in the air.

Laid flat on her back on twisted sheets, Clarke sweeps the tangle of damp, frizzy hair out of her face with one hand, still trying to get her breathing under control. Her chest is heaving and her thighs haven’t stopped shaking in the aftermath of their last energetic tryst, the second since Lexa brought out the harness and a sparkly purple dildo and proceeded to screw her into the mattress with smooth, deep thrusts and small, quick jogs of her hips until she came with a strangled shout. Now Clarke’s mind is mush and her body aches in the best way, worn out and thoroughly sated—for the time being, at least.

Meanwhile, Lexa is stretched out alongside, flaunting a lazy half-smile as she unbuckles the harness. The bulbous head of the toy slaps wetly against Clarke’s hip bone before Lexa scoops it up and tosses the whole kit over the side of the bed to be dealt with later. 

Propping her temple on her fist, Lexa trails her fingers down Clarke’s side, following the curve of her breast and the slope of her ribs down to the dip in her waist, retracing the same path on the return journey, and Clarke can’t control the way her body responds to the stimulus, goosebumps rising on her skin despite the unbearable heat. 

Every involuntary twitch makes Lexa’s little smirk edge wider, like she has a newfound fixation with testing Clarke’s reactions, laughing when Clarke finally squirms away from her touch.

“Are you ticklish?”

“Are you?” Clarke threatens, trying and failing not to be charmed by Lexa’s easy half grin, how she giggles and scrambles backwards when Clarke pretends to lunge. “Don’t make me fight you.”

Then she flops back against the pillows and kicks away the covers. “Ugh, it’s way too hot. I feel like I’m melting.”

“Water?”

“Please.”

Lexa slips off the bed and slinks out the room, fully nude and without a care in the world, and Clarke’s eyes stay trained on that audacious bubble butt as she goes, amazed not for the first time that Lexa is carrying all that junk in the trunk. Really, her perfect tush should be a serious contender for the number one visitor attraction in Polis. Clarke almost mourns its disappearance when Lexa turns the corner.

Left alone to examine her surroundings instead, Clarke lets her gaze drift around the room. Like the rest of the apartment, it’s neutrally decorated and spotlessly clean; everything put away. No ornaments, photographs or other personal touches that reflect Lexa’s taste except for a framed piece of art that depicts a lonely, ruined tower surrounded by lush forest. On the wall above the door hangs a distinctive ward that’s a staple of the island’s gift shops: a hand-painted stone with four concentric circles in the shape of a blue eye.

When Lexa returns from the kitchen with a large glass of water, Clarke levers up on one elbow and takes it from her gratefully. After a few greedy gulps, the cool liquid sliding down her throat, she nudges her chin toward the ‘evil eye’ symbol.

“Are you superstitious?”

Lexa joins her on the bed. Glances over her shoulder and gives a slight shrug. “It’s a peasant tradition going back thousands of years, but it doesn’t hurt to be protected from negative energy.” A faint smile graces her lips. “Especially Anya’s when I do something to piss her off.”

“I could’ve used something similar when I dropped by the taverna yesterday.”

“In her own misguided way, she tries to protect me too.”

“From who? Me?”

Lexa tilts her head side to side, neither confirming or denying. She studies Clarke for a moment, something indecipherable in her eyes. A muscle in Lexa’s jaw tightens, then she smiles again, if a touch more guardedly. “Mm. You have serial ‘heartbreaker’ written all over you.”

Clarke gapes at her, half shocked, half offended. She places the glass on the bedside table before she accidentally spills water on the mattress. 

She scoffs, “That couldn’t be further from the truth. One, because I work 80-hour weeks on average so how would I even find the time? And two—which is related to point one—the only people I meet are at the hospital, and since they’re either coworkers or patients under my care, they’re strictly off-limits.”

Lexa quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You’re a doctor?” she asks, honing in on that part and ignoring the rest of Clarke’s protestations.

She runs her eyes over Clarke, like she’s the one fantasising about uniforms now, nevermind that a lab coat, surgical scrubs and a stethoscope aren’t in the same league as combat fatigues. 

All the same, Clarke wouldn’t be opposed to some steamy ‘on-call’ room role play, which does an effective job of neutralising her outrage.

She reclines again. 

“I am. Clarke Griffin MD, vascular surgeon in-training. About to begin my fourth year of residency.”

Lexa’s eyes, which had strayed below Clarke’s neck once more—so gay, so predictable—leap back up, widening a fraction. 

“Sha?” Her gaze turns admiring. “Beauty and brains.”

“And a helluva rack, to boot.”

“The full package.”

A flush on her cheeks, Clarke accepts the compliment, enjoying the flattery.

“Sometimes I question my sanity for putting myself through the stress and the endless grind, working nights, weekends, and holidays while getting paid peanuts. Oh yeah, and not forgetting the mountain of student loan debt I graduated with from med school.” 

With a doleful sigh, she stares off into space as she contemplates the decade of loan repayments ahead of her. But she snaps out of it and brightens up. 

“Being a doctor is all I’ve ever wanted to do, though. Helping people. Making a difference in their lives.”

Silently, Lexa bobs her head in understanding, but Clarke can tell she’s slipped into her own thoughts.

“What about you?” Clarke asks in a softer voice. She picks up Lexa’s hand and plays with her fingers. “After travel and adventure, what do you dream of doing?”

Lexa lifts her shoulder and lets it drop.

“There aren’t many career opportunities here. The economy is shit, so I’d go to Barcelona or Berlin. Maybe Copenhagen.” She purses her lips as she mulls it over. “I’d like to finish my degree in Political Science. I went to university on the mainland after my year in the army, but” — a flicker in her eyes — “I had to quit halfway through.”

Clarke waits for Lexa to go on, sensing she has more to say when her face cycles through a series of complicated emotions.

“My mother got sick and I came home to help my father and Anya take care of her.” Her jaw works side to side in a microscopic movement before she swallows visibly, lashes lowering. “It was cancer.”

Clarke’s heart clutches.

“God, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

During her rotation in oncology, she’d witnessed firsthand the devastating effects of a cancer diagnosis on patients and their loved ones; seen battles hard won and tragically lost. To think of Lexa’s mom going through that same hell, the profound emotional toll it must’ve taken on the family, on Lexa herself… Lacking the words, Clarke gives the hand in hers a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey her genuine care and concern.

It appears to shore Lexa up. Taking a fortifying breath, she lifts her eyes and offers the slightest of smiles.

“She’s better now. How do you say it?” She casts about for the translation.

“In remission?”

A nod. 

“All clear for four years. And I remained in Polis. Too much time passed for me to return to university. But… I regret not completing my studies.”

Clarke feels for her. Lexa had to put her education and entire future on hold for her family and now she’s in limbo, her ambitions unrealised, hemmed in by circumstances and an income that’s reliant on seasonal tourism. Polis is a wonderful place, but it’s too small to contain someone like Lexa. 

Before Clarke can offer any platitudes, Lexa pulls on their joined hands. “Come. Those pastries are calling to me.”

~*~

Out on the terrace, a fresh breeze brings cooler air down from the mountains. A table and two patio chairs overlook the cliffs and the shimmering expanse of sea, the water lit up in streaks of red and orange as the setting sun hangs low on the horizon, the sky a glorious haze of yellow and gold.

Wrapped only in a bedsheet, Clarke nibbles on a fetabeik, the buttery flakes melting in her mouth. She hums in appreciation.

“Good?” Lexa asks, mid-demolition of her own slice.

Clarke catches a crumb on her lip and licks it off her fingers. “So good. I’m gonna have to go back and get some for Wells and Octavia to try.”

“Your friends, are they doctors too?”

She shakes her head, no.

“I was classmates with Octavia’s brother in pre-med organic chemistry. He had a crush on me, but…” She makes a face, enough to get across it was entirely unreciprocated. “Junior year, I got introduced to O at a party on campus and we just clicked. Instant ride-or-die. Wells? He and I go way back. We grew up on the same street, went to high school together, shared some extra curriculars: mathletes, chess club. I’ve basically known him since we were rugrats and he hasn’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Lexa peers at her, nonplussed. “Mathletes?”

“It’s like, competitive math as a team sport. Facing off to solve equations against the clock.” It occurs to her that she just outed her teenage self as a giant nerd and now she has reputational damage to repair. “We won at Nationals three years in a row. Even got featured on the local TV news.”

The smile on Lexa’s face only gets bigger while Clarke digs a deeper hole for herself.

“It’s cooler than it sounds. We had jackets!”

“I’m glad to see you didn’t let the fame and accolades go to your head.”

She huffs.

Shoots a faux glare in Lexa’s direction.

“And I bet you ruled the school,” Clarke says. “Probably had that effortless, cool, collected, zero-fucks-given attitude down as soon as you could walk.” 

Lexa dips her chin, still smiling. She plucks at the hem of the loose shorts that sit low on her hips. “Honestly, I was quiet and kind of a loner. It wasn’t until I joined the swim team that I found my confidence and my people.”

Clarke taps her knuckles on the table.

“So you were a jock. Called it.”

Those abs aren’t the product of a weak workout regime.

“Years ago.” Lexa’s lips take on a proud tilt. She catches Clarke’s eye. “But I still like to stay in shape.”

Brazenly, Clarke lets her gaze travel over a trim, toned stomach up to Lexa’s snug black sports bra and the biteable lines of her collarbones. 

She casts her mind back to the two rounds with the strap and clicks her tongue. “Well, I’m no fan of the gym, but luckily sex is great cardio. So, in my professional opinion, we should do more of that.”

“How much more?”

She tilts her head, pretending to ponder it.

“Oh… a minimum of two orgasms at least once a day.”

Lexa looks at her at length.

“And when you go? How am I supposed to cope without my fix?” 

Part of Clarke dares to hope Lexa isn’t just referring to missing her body once they’re thousands of miles apart.

A hint of nerves enters her voice. “I haven’t figured that out for myself yet.”

Lexa’s eyes don’t leave hers.

“Will you stay?” Off the flash of alarm on Clarke’s face, Lexa appends calmly, “Here, tonight.”

Right.

Of course that’s what she meant. It wasn’t an invitation for Clarke to fucking emigrate.

It takes several seconds for her heart to stop pounding and the heat to dissipate from her cheeks. She weighs the options: functional air conditioning and the guarantee of a restful sleep in crisp, cool sheets at the villa versus waking up in an unfamiliar bed, sweaty, hair in her face and her nose in the crook of Lexa’s neck. 

No contest, really.

“Depends. What are you making me for breakfast?”

[skele-bunny]

Thinking about Quintessence Ghouls w/Glucose Monitors...

So hear me out!! Magick is exhausting, takes a lot of energy, and can shut someone down from both an energy and magick burn out—but also have sudden spikes and surges with too much.

Quints have to monitor their glucose levels constantly! It's not uncommon to see them wearing a cgm monitor or having meters on their person! Wether it's high blood sugar or low, they're always hyper aware!

It's why quints are constantly seen with an apple juice box, bananas, raisins, and honey candies. Sometimes peanut butter, grapes, or toast will be involved if they experience magick surges/spikes to calm them down.

Aether showing Phantom how to change the depth setting of his lancing device when he started with a meter, and to not touch the testing strip bottom. Then eventually how to put in a cgm!

Omega having Terzo press the monitor to his cgm when he doesn't feel well enough to sit up on his own. Who's to say Terzo doesn't like feeding his lover grapes in a non-sexual way LMAO /silly

Even Swiss has a meter! Even though quintessence isn't his strongest element, he still has the effects. He prefers the meter method. Occasionally just poking himself and usually has Rain double look the reading!

Aurora having an episode after using too much quint, just being held by Cirrus and slowly being fed glucose gels. She prefers the fruit punch and orange flavors most!

On the tour bus, there's always a giant hoard of juices, candies, and slow-carbs. Even after Aether left, Mountain stayed on top of keeping it stocked for Phantom, Swiss, and Aurora!

Mounty constantly whipping up green teas and literally plucking the quints up and putting them on the floor with the tea.

GHOULS CAN SMELL IT!!! I have such an in-depth hc that Ghouls are kinda like service dogs. They can smell when someone's scent or body changes before it happens. It's not uncommon for quints to suddenly get sniffed by others, ushered to sit, and getting little snacks.

UGH I just adore this sm :(

[messy-crisantemo]

Since last week, I wanted to make a

🎴 GenTan fic recommendation list Part 2! 🍉

Don’t forget to check out Part 1 too!

As the last time, this list is based on my personal likes and, ofc, on the fics I’ve read. I tried to include all GenTan flavors ❤️💜 They’re not put in any particular order and most of them are completed fics. I’m adding some of the tags, but not all of them since I don’t want to make this post extra long, so please read them again once you go to the Ao3 link. Anime-onlies, beware of spoilers. Please enjoy!

sliding across the clouded sky by mimimimi (reiiiiii), 179k, WIP

(Figure skating AU, Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Aged-Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

The life of a figure skater is short. People expect you to retire at a young age and the moment you have an injury and take a break to recover, you're done for.

Shinazugawa Genya had to deal with it now that he's gotten the biggest injury on his skating career. And the press isn't helping at all, either.

The only light keeping him connected to the figure skating world? Kamado Tanjirou.

Starting with a classic! This beautiful slow burn explores the nature of their relationship as something that makes grow both Genya and Tanjirou. It has lots of funny and tender moments.

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic! by Side_Ponytail, 4k

(Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Getting Together, First Kiss, POV Alternating, Fluff and Humor, Scheming)

Tanjiro takes his siblings to see the Barbie movie, Genya’s siblings drag him along, and Parent Trap levels of shenanigans ensue.

No Barbie Movies were spoiled in the making of this fic.

One of the funniest and most adorable fics I’ve ever read. If you need a boost of sugar, this is it.

June Bridegroom by 125389, 2k

(Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, Established Relationship, Kamado Tanjirou-centric, Horror, Manga Spoilers)

Upon concluding an important day, the boundary between dreams and reality blurs as Tanjirou reveals the true nature of his feelings and whom he's really marrying.

A fic for those who love to suffer and don’t fear to embrace the tragic nature of GenTan.

a checkered haori by DragonsAndCryptids, 2k

(Post-Swordsmith Village Arc, Hurt/Comfort, Scents & Smells, Pre-Relationship, Fluff)

After the confrontation with Sanemi, Genya steals Tanjiro's haori because he likes the way it smells and it helps calm him down.

He doesn't want to address why that is, but when Tanjiro finds out, he doesn't give him much of a choice.

Tanjirou being Genya’s weak point, we all love it.

All Bark, No Bite by Rigmaroler, 92k

(Witch Tanjiro, Werewolf Genya, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Worldbuilding, Fluff, Action/Adventure, Sharing a Bed)

When Tanjirou first sees the wolf, he only has one thought in his head. He sees it under the light of the moon, just bright enough for the wet blood in its dark gray pelt to shine. Its teeth are bared, white, sharp and long as each of Tanjirou’s fingers. Its growl is a low bass rumble that Tanjirou can practically feel in his bones, rattling his spine. Its muzzle is stained red with blood, and marred with a jagged scar that cuts through its dense fur.

Or: Tanjirou is a witch's apprentice with a bad habit of bringing home strays. Genya is a young man who's been called a monster so many times, he's started to believe it.

Genya letting himself to be loved, Tanjirou learning that he can also want things for himself. Just beautiful.

The hidden stairs (Red velvet flicker) by Wild_Quetzal, 4k

(Alternate Universe - Vampire, Horror, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, vampire!Shinazugawa Genya, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Lovers)

A couple of minutes later, Tanjirou is left in his chambers. The place is big and empty. Despite the cold temperature, Tanjirou pays it no mind. He presses his ear against the heavy wooden door, then he sniffs it. Nothing seems out of place. He’s truly alone.

What the old lady who gave him instructions told him echoes in his mind: “That man is no Count. He’s a thief.”

Tanjirou arrives at the castle looking for answers. His host will only give him more questions. What is Genya hiding?

Yes, it’s the self-promo part. We had werewolf Genya and now we have vampire Genya in some very gothic and dramatic romance.

[revived--c]

@themonstracerock Hi!! Hope this is okay 🥺 I'm so happy you like them. Here's something I cooked up pretty quick.

CW: Needles, talk of blood (very brief), medical talk

“Are you sure you want to do it yourself this time?” Aether asks, looking at Rain with a tiny bit of concern as he hands the ghoul his insulin pen.

Rain smiles a little and rolls his eyes playfully.

He takes a needle from the box of them that Aether has and leaves the infirmary room.

Aether watches him go, shoving his hands into his pocket and biting his cheek. He decides then to keep a tab open in his brain to keep track of his bond with Rain. Not trusting entirely that the water ghoul can handle his dosages this time.

Rain’s always had the habit of either dosing too high or too low before he goes to bed. So he could very well either drop suddenly or keep rising in the night and end up feeling sick in the morning or a couple hours later.

Aether sits back down in his chair in front of his desk and continues working on paperwork from earlier that day.

Meanwhile, Rain gets ready for bed after a busy day. He ran around with Mountain outside in the gardens, he “practiced” with Dew in the band room and he spent some time with Swiss after dinner.

He stepped out of his bathroom and ambled over to the small desk in his room that's situated by the window. He placed his pen there with the needle attached.

Before he dialed up the dose, his brain tried reminding him subtly by automatically glancing over at the small black pouch that was at the very corner end of the desk.

His blood sugar tester..

Rain's tail swished with a small bit of anxiety, biting his lip. He really really didn't want to prick his finger. But he knew he needed to, in able to make sure he was dosing correctly..

But.. he felt fine? Not high but not particularly low either. Just.. fine.

“Ehhh” he waved it off, deciding against the painful pricking option and just going with his gut. He drew up the dosage and that was it.

Rain went to bed, 100% confident in his body.

A couple hours later, about 4 AM.

Aether's bond to Rain suddenly felt very limp and he noticed a certain smell to it. Sour, damp.

“Shit..” Aether hissed, getting up quickly.

He quickly grabbed a juice box from his mini fridge before leaving the infirmary quickly. Speed walking down the hall towards Rain's room, almost tripping over his own feet in the process.

Once there, Aether didn't even bother knocking. Opening the door and peering in.

Rain was already sitting up in his bed.. but he was looking to the floor. One of his legs were bouncing, his tail wrapped around his other leg tightly. Aether could see it shaking.

“Lilypad? I felt you drop..”

Rain finally looked up at Aether when hearing him. His face was panicked, scared, guilty.

“Aether.. I'm sorry I should've–”

Aether was already on his knees in front of Rain before he could finish, “It's okay Rainy, it's okay– I'll take care of you” he took Rain's hands in his own. They were shaking.

Aether squeezed them gently before letting go and getting up, spotting his tester on his desk and grabbing it.

“I'm sorry.. I should've tested before hand.. I'm so sorry for making you do this..” Rain's voice broke. Feeling so guilty about all of this he started crying.

Aether got back down on his knees, gently taking Rain's right hand. Finding the finger he usually used for this.

“Ready baby?” Aether carefully placed the poker in the center of Rain's ring finger.

Rain swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding, flinching when Aether poked him.

He whimpered more when Aether had to squeeze a bit to get a good amount of blood for his glucose monitor to grab. Rain didn't realize he was holding his breath until the monitor finally beeped and he exhaled in a rush.

The quintessence ghoul smiled fondly and rubbed Rain's palm comfortingly, “That's it baby.. good job”.

Rain watched as the meter buffered for a minute before it read off his blood sugar, 46.

Aether whistled in shock, “Yeah that's low..”

“I know.. I'm sorry Aether”

“Stop apologizing,” Aether reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the juice box “I like taking care of you love, you're not a burden”

Aether poked the straw through the box and then handed it to Rain. Helping the shaking ghouls hands to hold the box steady as he drank it down.

Aether felt as his bond to Rain strengthened again. Which made both of them sigh in relief. Rain's tail untangled itself from his leg gradually as his sugar raised back to normal again. His other leg stopped bouncing, resting now.

“I'm going to stay with you the rest of the night, that okay tadpole?” Aether's voice was soft and quiet when he asked him. Rubbing Rain's wrist softly.

Rain's eyes lit up and he smiled softly, “That'd be great, Aeth..”

[captain039]

PART 6 WASTELAND HEAT (REDONE)

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

He kisses like a starved man. He has your hands forced above your head and his hips grinding against yours. You’re overwhelmed by everything him, his smell his leather gloves and too clothed body, his leathery lips making yours swollen and achey. He hums softly every now and then as he lets you breathe for a second, chasing air in a rush. One hand has your wrists pinned together above your head while the other is fiddling with the hem of your tank top. Your minds foggy, you’ve forgotten pretty everything right now, all hazy and heat riddled. You struggle to move your hands groaning a little in frustration as his leather covered fingers slide under your tank top and spread over your side. You want to take those damn gloves off, you hate them currently.

“You don’t stop fidgeting I will walk out that door” his warning is a low growl in your ear and you let out a small breath.

“Cooper” you mutter and his eyes snap to yours.

“Gloves” you mumble to him. He smirks slightly removing his hand from under your shirt and holding the tip of his finger to your mouth. You frown and he cocks his head to them. You hesitate but bite down on the tip of the glove and tug, before he moved to the next finger. You tug the glove off with your teeth and he continues his smirk.

“Good girl” he says taking the glove from your mouth and dropping it on the floor. He sits up, back on his knees as he tugs off his other glove and his duster coat, laying them on the floor before staring down at you. You feel like squirming under his gaze before his hands go to your hips. He grips the tops of your shorts, hooking his fingers in and pulling them. You shuffle your hips and lift them up so he can slide them off, not expecting him to slide off your underwear at the same time. You panic a little as he moves your legs to bend before dropping your bottom half clothes on the floor. You can’t cross your legs, not with him between them, your hands were quick to cover yourself though, looking everywhere but him. He lets out a tsked sound and you look to him again. He stares at your hands with slightly raised brows and you gulp. You can feel the heat you’re producing and slick, it makes you embarrassed.

“Omega, my leaving this room still stands” he says with a click of his tongue and your eyes go a little wide. You remove your hands, avoiding eye contact as his eyes stare before he presses himself back against your body. His hand grips your chin to force you to look at him and you do. You stare at his eyes, the little lashes around them too, the feel of him against you. Your need for something you don’t even know how to do or ever experienced. Every time Lucy talked about it sounded so uneventful and meaningless. Not that it had to have meaning but it sounded like most of the time she didn’t enjoy her encounters. You don’t feel him shifting till you feel a finger slide through your slick folds and a gasp leaves your lips.

“Getting in your head sugar” he mutters leaning down to press his lips against yours again. You think back to Ethan and what happened, it makes you tense and press against his chest. You don’t push him away, you grip the shirt he wears, breathe in deeply while he slows his kiss and fingers. He lifts his head frowning and you open and close your mouth a few times.

“I was accepted in the marriage trade, when the raiders came in, a raider named Ethan was supposed to be my husband, we didn’t know they were raiders. He forced his hands on me, his lips too, I don’t-“ you blurt out at the speed of light and watch the his eyes go a little wide. His hand moves from your sex and you let out a whimper.

“No, no please” you beg quietly clenching his shirt. He kisses you a little rougher this time and you sigh in relief at it.

“He didn’t do anything else but that, my father came in and killed him before he could undress me, it was the first time I’d been out of the hospital area too” you say quietly against his lips.

“Please, please I need-“ you don’t know where your begging comes from, the pure need for him to be close, to have him be your entire moment.

“Omega” he says a lowly hand gripping your hip. He flips you suddenly and you almost struggle to move with him as he perches you on his lap, his back against the headboard. You take a small breath hands resting against his clothed chest. You feel the bulge in his pants against your exposed sex and shuffle a little closer to grind yourself against it. His hands instantly grip your hips in a bruising touch and you stop letting out a small sound. You pant softly as his fingers move to the singlet covering your top half. He watched you with eyes like a hawk as you nod a little and he slips your singlet up and over your head. His hands smooth down your sides over the flesh there.

“I’m not hurting you?” You ask and he frowns before raising an eyebrow in question. You glance at yourself, the rolls on your side your chubby belly and thick thighs. He follows your gaze eyes staring hungrily over your flesh before his hands move behind your back to unclasp your bra. You look to the head board instead of his face, your body is flush with a layer of sweat over it, you’ve no doubt soaked his pants from where you sit. You feel his hands slide over your side, thumbs under your breasts before one thumb brushes over your nipple gently. It makes you jolt in surprise and look back to him, seeing him lean forward tongue darting out to twirl around your other nipple while his thumb rubs over the other one. It’s gentle not like what Ethan had done and squeezed harshly, his tongue swirls and flicks before his teeth gently scrap over the sensitive flesh and a small gasp leaves your lips. You glance down to him seeing him staring at you intently again as his full hand covers your breast and gives a gentle knead. He smirks when you make another small noise as he fondles and toys, your hips grind against his hardened cock and you feel a rush of need. You grind a little harder feeling him smirk around your breasts before he leans back.

“Go on” he cocks his head hands leaving your body too. You frown and glance down to his bulge before shuffling back to his thighs. He rests his hands behind his head watching you as you shakily undo his buttons and zip before shuffling his pants down a bit. You move his boxers away and pull him out hearing him sigh quietly, his eyes closing. You stare a little, just like the rest of his body it’s leathery with some ridges, a deeper reddish orange than the rest of him. You swallow silently and shuffle back forward, hips raised, lining him up.

“Easy-“ before he can finish you slowly lower yourself onto him and you whimper. His hands instantly grip your hips and still you and stop you. It’s a stretch and it stings your head hung and your breath leaving you in sharp pants.

“Fuck” he grunts holding you deathly still his tip just in.

“Jesus Christ, omega” he breaths and you let out a small noise in response.

“Sweetheart you gotta prepare yourself” he mutters.

“Sorry” you mutter back.

“Stop fucking apologising” he snarls with a sigh as he lets his bruising grip loosen.

“Just- slowly now” he says and you nod. You slowly lower yourself feeling the stretch, the sting and resistance before your butt meets thigh.

Your minds blank with how full you feel, how warm everything feels. The alpha lets out a low growl from his throat head leaned back.

“Slowly move your hips when you’re ready” he says a little breathlessly and you nod. You grind down on him and let out a small breath before lifting your hips slowly and lowering them. There’s a lot of stinging, and you lean forward a bit, head still hung and rest it against his shoulder. His hand snakes up your back leaving goosebumps in its wake before he massages the back of your neck with his hand.

“I know it hurts sugar” he mutters before he lets out a small chuckle.

“Sort of your own fault” he adds and you whine in response not finding any words to back talk him. His other hand goes to your hip, guiding you to slowly move up and down, and grin against him.

“It’ll feel good” he murmurs as you slowly find a rhythm and the sting begins to fade. Your hands are gripping his shoulders now as you lift your head and find strength to move on your own, the hand on your neck going to your side and squeezing gently. His eyes stare into yours again as you feel yourself quickening briefly then slowing down again, testing how everything feels.

“Fuck” you let out and another rough chuckle leaves him before he hums and guides you to move faster. You feel him inside, roughly gliding against your walls, the feeling of being so full makes you pant and clench slightly.

“Clenching around me already sweetheart” he pants and you nod. Your legs and hips hurt, but you don’t care, tension builds in your stomach like a knot but you can’t find the edge yet. You whine a little frustrated and he moves his hand between you both, two fingers pressing against a sensitive spot before rubbing slowly. You moan eyes closing as you feel your stomach tightening again. His fingers go in time with your hips and you feel yourself clench around him before coming undone. Something snaps inside you, you feel slick going down his cock and between your thighs. He snarls softly, grabs your hips with both hands and holds them up a little before he’s thrusting inside you. The movement makes you moan into his shoulder as he thrusts into you, you feel him swelling and whine softly. You tilt your neck without thought feeling his hot breath against your pulse. He ruts into you, pushing the knot of his cock inside and locking it in. You gasp and pant at the feeling your hips twitching slightly as he rests you back in his lap. He didn’t bite your neck like the teacher said and you feel somewhat unsatisfied by it. You mouth along his neck tasting sweat and dust, his head tilts ever so slightly and you gently scrap your teeth. He moves his hips and you stop with a small moan. You feel exhausted but full, your mind more focused but tired.

“Sleep” he orders and you hum eyes already closed and body sagging against his. You feel him shuffle a bit, hissing softly as he tugs his knot inside you. He reached for the blanket covering the end of the bed, bringing it up around your shoulders and you snuggle in deeper.

Next part ->

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Emerald Hallow Chapter 5

Summary: Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good…and he’s not the only one who notices.  

**plus size reader 

Warnings: abo!dynamics, smutty smut smut, name calling, eventual threesome, voyeurism, rough sex

Previous chapter Next chapter

This was the first time Bucky was going to see Y/N perform at the club.  It was Thanksgiving weekend, the Fall decorations already being put away and the Christmas decor going up seemingly overnight.  Steve and Bucky sat at a small table near the front of the stage off to the right, listening to the band warm up as the bar bustled with people.  Every Saturday night was packed whenever Y/N sang, and Bucky looked around in amazement.

“Wow, she’s really made a name for herself, hasn’t she?” Bucky mused quietly, watching the couples in their vintage outfits get settled at their tables, looking excitedly at the stage.

“You have no idea,” Steve replied, throwing Bucky a cocked eyebrow.

Just then the lights dimmed and the spotlight came on, the band counting themselves in and playing a small introduction.  The drag queen host came out and the audience cheered, making her smile wide as she gave a dramatic bow.  “Good evening everybody!  I’m your host Dirty Peaches, but you can call me Peaches ‘cuz I get nasty,” the crowd “oo-ed.”  “That’s a ‘Yonce' reference for those of you who are uncultured.  Wow, what a turnout!  Y’all been missing somebody?”  The audience cheered again, and a chant started amongst the crowd.

“Emerald Hallow!”

“Emerald Hallow!”

“Okay okay, shit, I know when I’m not wanted,” Peaches said, looking put out.  “Without further ado, please give a warm welcome to the one, the only, Emerald Hallow!”

The crowd cheered louder as Peaches stepped back and the curtain behind her opened to reveal Y/N.  Bucky’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going comically wide as she stepped out and hugged Peaches and greeted her bandmates.  She was dressed in a floor length satin gown.  This one was much more modest than the one Steve had first met her in, with only her arms showing from the elbow down, displaying her tattoos.  The dress was voluminous, hugging around her waist and chest snuggly while the rest flowed around her.  It was a bright, crimson red color, her green hair complimenting it and making her look like a Christmas herald.  Her hair was finger-waved again, the curls cascading down her back with her bangs curled and pinned back.  She wore blood red lipstick that matched the dress and her sharp cat-eye eyeliner again.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky moaned, shifting himself so his erection wasn’t too obvious.  Steve moved as well, his eyebrows hung low as he watched her.

“Hello, my pretties,” Y/N greeted everyone, her voice low and seductive.  The audience whooped and hollered.  “I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving, and even if you didn’t, maybe we can have a little fun together tonight,” she winked.  “Lovies?” she gestured to the band, and they counted themselves into an introduction.  “I’m feeling very…sexy lately,” Y/N sighed.  More whoops resounded through the room.  “You feeling sexy?” she smiled.  “Well then…come here big boy.”

The music started, the trumpet playing a slow and dirty melody.  More cheers were heard as couples moved to the small dance floor, the dancing much sexier than Steve had seen last time.  

“You’ve been a bad, bad boy, I’m gonna take my time, so enjoy.”

Y/N’s eyes closed, her hands running down her hips as she swayed to the beat.

“There’s no need to feel no shame, Relax and sip upon my champagne. ‘Cause I wanna give you a little taste Of the sugar below my waist, You nasty boy.”

Her eyes were fixated on Steve as her hands went back up and over her stomach and slightly down the area between her legs but quickly back up to her chest, skimming across her breasts.

“I’ll give you some ooh-la-la Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? I got you breaking into a sweat Got you hot, bothered and wet You nasty boy.”

Her eyes were now on Bucky, raking over his figure.  She reached toward him, her fingers swirling in “come hither” motion then moving her body so her back was facing them, tilting her hips towards him.  Bucky twitched, having to stop himself from moving.

“Oh, baby for all it’s worth I swear I’ll be the first to blow Your…mind! Now if you’re ready, come and get me I’ll give you that hot, sweet, sexy, loving…”

The song continued and Steve and Bucky were both squirming.  She looked too good, sounded too good, mixed with the ambience of the club around them and her scent seeming to pool around them and the audience it was like sweet torture.

“...now you better give me a little taste Put your icing on my cake You nasty boy. Oh no, ooh there I go again I need a spanking, ‘cause I’ve been bad! So let my body do the talkin’ I’ll slip you that hot, sweet, sexy lovin’.”

Y/N started to move more to the beat, throwing her head back and riffing through the bridge, singing phrases like, “Come on sugar!” and whiny “oohs” that made Steve shut his eyes tight and Bucky’s metal arm creak under the pressure of the fist he put it in.  She sang to them, then to others, and at one point as the song started to end she scratched her long nails against her bond mark, making her pheromones burst through the enclosed space.  She was causing the crowd to get more rowdy, the dancing couples nearly undressing and pawing at each other.  She finished on a deep, whiny note and jiggled her body to the final drum.  Steve felt territorial and murderous seeing the effect she had on everyone around her, and felt sorry for Bucky who was seriously struggling in the seat next to him.  

The songs never stopped, one sexy number after another.  By the time her set was ending Bucky was sweating and Steve’s jaw ached from how hard he was biting down.  

“Thank you my pretties!  I’ll see you next week.  Good night, and have fun!” Y/N winked and licked her lower lip.  She bowed deeply then acknowledged her band, then swayed her hips as she disappeared into the curtain behind her.  

Steve turned to Bucky, who was gnawing at his lip and wiping his brow.  “She really does play dirty,” Bucky growled.

“Little tease,” Steve grunted.  He stood quickly.  “Come on.”

“What?  Where are we going?” Bucky asked, quickly standing with him.

Steve walked towards the backstage area.  He went through the curtain, looking around for Y/N.  When she was nowhere to be seen he gestured to one of the techies.  “Where’d Emerald go?”

“Oh, she left already,” she said.  

“Fuck,” Steve grunted.  The techie stared at him.  “Sorry.  Thank you.”  She walked away and he turned to Bucky.  “Her place.”

“She hasn’t moved in with you?” Bucky asked, following Steve out to the car they came in.  

“No, she likes having her own space.  But that’s going to change very soon,” Steve said threateningly.

“Look, punk, I know you’re mad but she has every right to be upset with us.  Tonight was payback, that’s all.  As frustrated and horny as I am, we can’t let our emotions get the better of us,” Bucky reasoned, trying to give off a calming scent in the car as Steve drove too fast to Y/N’s apartment.

Once they parked Steve hopped out and barreled through the front door of her building, Bucky following not far behind.  She was on the first floor so he quickly went to her door that was on a secluded part of the hallway.  He knocked hard on the door.

“Omega, open the door,” Steve commanded, trying to breathe normally.  

“Fuck off, Alpha,” Y/N called back through the door.  

“Don’t think I won’t break down this door,” Steve threatened, his scent getting stronger.

Y/N opened the door just a fraction, glaring up at him.  “What’s wrong, Steve?  Feeling a little…frustrated?” her eyes narrowed and she looked down at his groin where his cock was straining against his pants.

Steve carefully but forcefully pushed the door open, making her step back.  Bucky watched carefully, staying a step back but entering and closing the door behind him.  Steve groaned at her outfit, a night teddie that matched the red gown she wore earlier.  Her hair was tied up now, but the red lipstick was still on.  “What do you think you were doing up there tonight, huh, Emerald?” he growled.  “You just love being a fucking tease, don’t you?  You sent Buck into an early rut.”

“What?  I…” Bucky started to disagree but then felt a deep tug in his groin and slightly doubled over.  “Shit.”

“I smelled it on him the moment you stepped out from the curtain,” Steve said, not once looking away from her.  “I’m sorry we didn’t include you this morning.  We should have talked about all of that before, but we didn’t, and we overstepped what is obviously a boundary for you.  It was something that we needed to get over the initial hurdle in our relationship together.  But for you to go up there, and nearly send everyone in that room into heat or rut, is inexcusable.”

Y/N’s gaze never wavered.  She was not sorry, and from what he could tell, she was far from done.  “It’s hard to not get what you want.  The frustration feels stifling, doesn’t it?” She slowly approached him, getting close only to swerve around him and head towards Bucky.  She walked up to Bucky, who was grimacing in pain, and pulled his head down into a passionate kiss.  His hands gripped her face and held her close to him, moving his face down and scenting her neck hungrily.  She pushed him back into the couch he was standing next to, making him sit, then pulling his clothes off one at a time, glancing at Steve periodically.  “Overwhelming,” she muttered once she got Bucky fully naked.  She turned and sat on his lap, leaning back against him.  As she sat Steve saw she wasn’t wearing any underwear, Bucky’s cock slipping between her lower lips as she gyrated on him.  Bucky’s hands immediately went to her breasts, pulling them out of the teddie and kneading them in his large hands.  He was lost to his rut, not noticing or caring that Steve was there watching.  His lips licked and sucked at her neck, making his scent and hers mix in heady perfume that made Steve’s mouth water.  “How unfair,” Y/N said through gritted teeth.

Steve’s eyes blinked rapidly and his hand started moving towards his belt.  “Don’t you dare,” Y/N growled.  “You don’t get to join. It’s my turn with Bucky now.”  She reached down and started flicking her clit, her hips jerking and making Bucky whine behind her.  His hips started moving faster, his cock peeking through her legs repeatedly.  “You don’t get to touch yourself,” she instructed Steve.  He grunted and sank to his knees.  “I want Bucky’s knot.  Do you think he’ll breed me before you, Alpha?” She suddenly stiffened and came hard, a gush of her slick coating Bucky’s cock and her legs.  

Bucky moaned and tried to aim his hips to get his cock up into her.  He slipped his flesh arm down between her legs and dipped a finger inside her, his teeth biting gently into her shoulder.  “Should he mark me, Alpha?” Y/N asked Steve, her hips shaking as Bucky’s finger moved faster in and out of her, then adding another finger.  “Then you’ll both be my mates.  How does that sound, Stevie baby?”

“So good, fuck Mama,” Steve groaned, his hands shaking as he restrained from touching himself.

“Mama?  Huh…I like it,” Y/N laughed lightly.  She moved off of Bucky’s lap, making Bucky whimper at the loss of her, but she moved him over so she could lay down on the couch, and he quickly moved to hover over her.  She spread her legs wide, inviting Bucky to settle in between as he stroked his throbbing cock and ran the tip through her lower lips, getting himself wet with her slick.  He slowly started to push into her, pulling a long keen from her.  “He feels so good, Steve.  No wonder you couldn’t wait for me this morning.”

“Mama please,” Steve begged, crawling towards the two of them.  “I can’t take this, please, love.”

Bucky pushed fully into her and she arched her back, focusing back on him.  Y/N ran her hands up and along Bucky’s stomach, chest, shoulders, neck and into his hair.  She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled, making Bucky’s head wrench back and a loud growl rumble from his chest.  “Look Bucky, look how horny our Stevie is,” she moaned.  Bucky’s eyes finally found Steve’s and he growled again, trying to stake a claim.  Steve growled back in warning.  “You’re both so fucking hot, God,” Y/N shivered then pulled Bucky’s face back to her, focusing him back to the task at hand.  He quickly lowered himself over her chest, licking, sucking and nipping at her breasts as his thrusts picked up.  Steve felt small again, tears starting to prick at the sides of his eyes as the pleasure in his body had nowhere to go.

Y/N sensed his change and looked over at him and reached a hand out.  “Give me your cock, Alpha.”

Steve moved so fast he nearly tripped himself.  He pulled his belt and pants and underwear off, standing next to Y/N and Bucky.  She took his large cock in her small hand and started pumping him steadily.  She lifted her head to lick him and he stepped closer to help her reach.  She licked him from tip to base, lathering him in her spit.  Bucky looked up from her breasts and watched her suck on Steve.  He whimpered at the sight.  Y/N opened her mouth wide and tilted her head back.  Steve understood and positioned himself above her head and slid his cock into her mouth and then deep down into her throat.  She slightly gagged but breathed through her nose steadily to take him in all the way.  Steve fucked her throat as Bucky fucked her pussy.  The whole thing was so erotic that he knew he was going to bust any second.

Bucky started moving even faster as he licked her throat where the outline of Steve’s cock was moving.  As his thrusts became even more frenzied he started nuzzling the opposite side from where Steve had bit and claimed her, his teeth scraping against her gland.  “Claim her, Buck,” Steve grunted as he felt his balls tighten.  “Then she’ll be ours.”

Bucky inhaled her again, then just as his hips snapped harshly and his knot inflated fully he locked himself to her and bit down on her neck, filling her pussy up with his seed.  Y/N shrieked as her own orgasm washed over her, the vibration in her throat setting Steve off into cumming and he gasped and shivered, spilling himself down into her throat where she swallowed him greedily.  As they all breathed heavily Steve started to pull himself out slowly, making sure not to hurt Y/N as her throat relaxed.  She wetly coughed once he retreated and Bucky kissed her, tasting Steve on her tongue and moaning again.  He pulled away from the kiss and lifted his head to lick Steve’s cock, giving his tip a small suck then laying his head back into the crook of Y/N’s neck, his bite mark leaving her skin red and sore, which he licked heavily to soothe.  

“Mine,” Bucky whispered as he kissed his mark.  “Ours.”

“So good, Omega,” Steve praised her, making her smile lazily up at him.  He leaned down and kissed her.  “Please tell me the war is over.”

“You wish,” Y/N smirked.

[tired-biscuit]

Can we get a fic like manipulative bestfriend Kirishima but it's Katsuki instead?

18+ mdni, fem!reader // cw: manipulation (guilt-tripping), sort of dubcon-ish...? bsf!bakugou

"stay."

a hint of a smile tugs at your lips at the seemingly innocent request katsuki slurs into the darkness as you get him into bed that friday night.

the bedroom you're in, his bedroom - and which you've come to know so well that you might as well consider it your own instead - is neat and tidy as ever. perfectly him.

every piece of furniture has its own rightful place. the decoration is scarce, but surprisingly tasteful; that is if you ignore the shelf full of all might figurines that's situated right above the desk. adorned with starlight and a hint of blue-ish purple light coming from the neon sign that's right across the street, shadows of all shapes and sizes cover the walls.

and they dance, the shadows and their odd shapes. twirling and spinning all across the flat surface whenever a car drives by the window that overlooks the street outside, they remind you of living things. and speaking of living things; the night itself can be considered as one of them. it makes the city feel alive.

people walk the streets no matter the hour in a city this big. they share inside jokes and they laugh and gossip and spill secrets they'll talk about further about in the morning, when they're feeling a bit more sober. but besides the occasional chatter and the low hum of turning car tires, it's quiet. peaceful - if you're used to tuning out all the traffic noise and other nonsense. you, living in the very center of the flashy city havoc for quite a while now, find it oddly comforting at almost one in the morning.

however, to you, the room you're currently standing in also beats the comfort the city brings any day. most definitely.

because as you inhale, savouring a nice, deep breath, you realize that it smells fresh and familiar; like home, or rather the person you think of as home. like the fabric softener that wafts from the newly-washed bed sheets you've just finished tucking him in, and the chilly breeze of late spring that's only snuck its way into the room because of the fact that katsuki 'blood running as hot as his temper' bakugou prefers to sleep with his windows open no matter the season.

and that's completely fine, it's just dandy - even if it does tend to get a little too cold for your taste, personally. the problem at hand is that besides the open windows, your best friend also prefers to sleep with you in the room with him. right by his side, where you belong. constantly.

most don't believe it if they've gotten the chance to meet him and know what he's like, but it's true. he actually likes you. and sure, it may seem like he simply tolerates your company instead of enjoying it more often than not, with his constant eye rolls and low-spoken grumbles for answers, but you know him better than that.

you know that just from the way he wishes to have you around, like now, willing to share his comforter and pillow with you whenever he's at his most vulnerable - a sight he never lets anyone see but you. it's the little things when it comes to katsuki, and you also know that the action alone is the same as if he were to tear the very moon off the sky every night for you before placing it into your awaiting hands.

he trusts you with it. he trusts you with his heart.

and it's been like that for a long while, ever since you were kids, actually. since you'd borderline forced him to be your friend by smiling those big, foolish grins at him even if one of your teeth was missing at the time. since you'd brought him neat little presents, most of them candy and gum, for his birthday every year, even if he wasn't particularly a fan of sugar and you only found out about it years later. since you weren't afraid to hold his hand even if it got much too warm, much too quick all of a sudden and could even make sparks fly, while yours had been simply covered in bright yellow sidewalk chalk instead.

and katsuki, well, he had pretended for a long while that he didn't appreciate the way you'd persisted and consistently kept putting in the effort into getting to know who he truly was. had feigned that he didn't care about all the smiles and the kind gestures and even sweeter gifts. never being a boy with a tendency to display affection all that much, he found it hard to demolish the walls he'd spent ages building around himself and to really portray what he truly felt.

but years passed, as they tend to do. by the time you had both grown up and parted ways, he realized how special it was what he had. how he took it for granted. and once for a change, he was the one reaching out to you this time, over social media he rarely used but still had because everyone else - you - did. he was the one attempting to grow closer. to rekindle the spark and all the warmth to accompany it. because he missed it.

he missed you.

so you met up whenever you could. you partied a bit on the weekends; whenever school would let you. you held study sessions for entirely different subjects because you attended entirely different schools. he helped you move into your new place, and you helped him move out of his parents' house. he taught you how to cook because you were, in his words, absolutely shit at it. you taught him how to not kill all of the plants in his new apartment when he'd gotten tired of his college dorm, because he was, in your words, an incompetent plant dad.

you laughed, sometimes you cried, but mostly laughed. shared experiences and adventures that you still like to reminisce about to this day. and your friendship grew with them. it got more solid; sturdy. different, in more ways than one. and it's even more different now.

now that he's no longer a boy, but a man.

"hey," said man's voice brings you back to reality now. you blink as you feel his fingertips touch the sleeve of your sweater. his touch is warm as it always is. "you still in there, dummy?"

reaching down to pat the top of his head playfully, you try to ignore the way he angles it further into your palm as you say, "funny! but i can't stay tonight, kat."

he truly is just that: a cat. one that nearly purrs at your touch whenever it gets drunk, that nuzzles its face into the crook of your neck and that turns oddly clingy, too. but only when he feels like it. not you.

"sure ya can," he answers almost immediately even if his tongue feels way too heavy and slow to sit inside his mouth properly. the answer is simple but it's also assured. definite. like it's up to him to choose what you'll do. how you'll live.

come to think of it, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. your best friend does know you best. it's right there in the title.

a sigh leaves your lips at the thought as you look at him with slightly narrowed eyes now. he's relaxed; pleasantly tipsy because he allows himself to lower his guard down around you and drink more than he normally does with others. his irises are hazy and dark red instead of crystal clear, pupils big and eyelids as heavy as your heart. the signature spikes of ash blonde have turned sort of droopy and ruffled.

maybe they've absorbed some of the alcohol as well. it's funny to think about.

"katsuki," you start, stifling a chuckle, "you know that i've got work tomorrow-"

"c'mon," he interrupts with a mere murmur, his grip a surprisingly tenacious one to wrap around your wrist as he grabs it with his much bigger hand. "stay with me tonight."

"i can't," you repeat softly when he tugs at your hand for a second time. his fingers are so hot now that it feels like they're making your skin burn the moment they touch it, and you wonder if that's what the perps he's constantly chasing after experience whenever he gets close enough to use his quirk on the poor suckers.

there's a beat of silence between you before he chides, "can't or won't?"

"stop that." that makes me feel bad.

"well, you'd stay if you wanted to... just sayin'. 'cause i know you don't start work that early." he pauses to yawn. "but it's whatever, you do you. i don't care." i hope you do feel bad.

you don't respond to that. you don't know what to say. you never do.

so seconds pass. one, two, three.

"ugh... i didn't mean it like that," he says at some point as he rubs his temple. "i just-"

"it's fine. don't worry about it," you let out through a tight-lipped smile. "it's no biggie, really."

"it's not fine. just... lemme drive you to work tomorrow as an apology? i promise that i will, if you stay," he insists when he sees you starting to drift away again. pushes, because he wants to have his way with you. "please? i need you."

please.

you know what he actually wants, the thing he's been taking for months now, and yet the word still makes you fold because it's sweet and kind. makes you sigh again as you give in and pull your sweater over your head so that you can change into one of his t-shirts instead. makes you climb into bed with him the moment your jeans pool at your ankles and the comforter covers your bare legs. makes you allow him to wrap his arms around you in the too-tight way he prefers, but that leaves you awake, with your breaths awfully shallow in return.

because what matters most is that he's happy. and nothing makes him happier than when you're safe; right there in his arms, even if they do have a tendency to squeeze you just a little bit too much for your liking. even if they are just a little bit too possessive because you feel good, and good things must always be within reach to a man like him. only him, no other boys allowed.

please. it's so rare for him to say a thing like that that it almost tastes foreign on his tongue. but he still says it. just for you, no other girls involved.

please, he says as he presses your spine against his chest and sneaks his way under your - his - dynamight t-shirt, lifting it until the hem is touching the collar and your tits are exposed. please, he whispers whilst kissing your neck as that same hand glides all over your front in a way a best friend's shouldn't before he slides it into your panties instead.

please, he mumbles as his cock glides between your soaked folds a minute later; savouring the skin on skin contact even if it's messy and sticky all over. please, he grunts even if his sensitive tip already catches right at your fluttering hole and pushes in, in, in. until your breath hitches in your throat and your back arches in a way that makes you stick your ass out for him, as if in invitation even if you've never said the words.

please, he moans as he turns you over until you're laying flat on your stomach and he's pounding away like it's the last thing he'll do; making your curves jiggle and the headboard of the bed slam against the wall that's still covered in shadows. please, he grits out through clenched teeth when he feels your soaked pussy squeeze around him and try to push him out.

you're so close that you feel like your heart is about to give out any second now. he's heavy and too hot, too rough, too drunk; you need him out, out, out. you're going to burst if he doesn't stop because of how full you are.

"please, katsuki," you whimper, tears staining the pillow, his pillow that smells just like him as your nails claw at it until the softness is right inside your palms. it's all his.

"please, pretty," he says in return, pushing right back in. he's always pushing with everything. "just a lil' more for me. i need a lil' bit more from you." and you're gonna give it to me.

and yet your back arches again. and again. and again. accepting every thrust deeper, even if you said you couldn't. accepting his hand in your own because you're not afraid of the sparks and the danger it brings along - never had been. accepting the rude ignorance from your best friend in the heat of the moment because he otherwise does care about you.

he cares about you so much. just not while he's balls deep inside of you. just not while that same hand presses against the back of your neck so that he can gain the leverage to fuck into you better.

and it's your fault, or at least that's what he silently tells you with his actions. you made him like this. you crawled into bed with him. you let him take and take and take. he just asked. he used to be just fine on his own, but now he can't live without his best friend anymore. you're the pushy one. you, you, you.

and you also come with benefits he can't possibly resist.

[cyanidedrinkers]

Animalistic(Feral) mutants Part 2!!!!

I'M BACK!!! Ya'll liked this a lot- Like a lot alot and it's given me so many more ideas and i've seen a lot of good stuff :) so let me braind dump once more! I have also been told they're apparently called Ferals! So for the purpose of my fingers i'll refer to them as Ferals I wanna see kids who appear more human only for their more animalistic features to appear later in life I want them to be scared and freaked out. To cry and not know what to do I want everyone to know about Xaviers and for them to run there or to hide themselves away intel one of the X-men, find them either scared or tearing a mans throat out I want to see them doubt themselves only to be told they aren't a monster. They just need to be taught how to deal with becoming themselves I want to see adult Ferals that've been used all their life find piece and help other younger Ferals find their way too I want to see a young Feral hide under Logan's legs because they're playing hide and seek I want to see Logan who has 1-3 baby ferals in his hands at times because they wouldn't sleep without him around I want to see Logan cursing a mother out because she kicked out her kid whos a young feral I want to see Logan who spends more time in the feral nursery then anyone else I want to see a kid grab food out of their friends hands because it's not halal and they don't want their friend to go against their religion on accident @wolfstarr-the-sequel Gave me the idea for these next prompts/brain dumps/food/yeah! So thank you for letting me use your brain pickings! <3 Give me teenage and Adult Ferals that learn how to use their abilities for good. Give me teen Ferals who rush over to a bystander and as they start to grab onto things because they can smell low blood sugar from a mile away Give me a feral who stops some kids in the street to tell them that if they want to do illegal things theres better things to do then sell illegal substances Give me ferals who find their way by becoming like service animals Give me Hank who sets up a training thing and teaches kids how to identify when someone is having a seizure or low blood sugar only for Logan to stand and the corner and say "Low blood sugar smells bitter. Like someone made really strong coffee" So anyone the kids that can smell that type of stuff can identify it because damn it's useful to know that the person fighting next to you is gonna pass out. Give me a kid taking food out of their friends hand while frantically checking over them because "Theres strawberries in this! are you okay!? did you eat any?!" Also, Thank you @god-of-idiots for giving me this idea :D Give me young ferals who feel bad everytime they rip their clothes due to their sharp nails/claws Give me young ferals who cant help but cry and whimper because they're to overstimulated Give me baby ferals who hit and scream because they lack the ability to physically say that their ears are throbbing due to all the sound imputes

And lastly, Give me Wade who comes in every so often to talk to ferals of any and all ages that havent taken so well to the change and let him talk about understanding that it's weird having your world flipped upside down. Let him be an anchor for kids or ferals that started out fairly normal till their features or abilities came in later in life. Let him be an anchor for those who were taught to be weapons Let him look at all these people and speak some truth, That it's all not that bad and while he'll never be allowed in the mansion they should be lucky they are because he didnt have this support system at any point in his life Let him be like the fun uncle who randomly breaks into your heavily guarded house and is probably screwing more than one person in their