#but that is a roundabout heavy handed way to do that

[singwhenyoucantspeak]

ok but why did all her daughter's friends meet up at her house just for her to drive then to the dad's house? why not have them all just meet at the dad's house?

[yandere-kokeshi]

We need headcanon Horangi please! It's hard to find a good author who make Horangi one.

— Yandere Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin headcanons

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about kidnapping, heavy stalking, slight nsfw, and foreshadowing at volience.

A/N: Aw, thank you :)!!! Enjoy!!

Horangi is a heavy stalker, influenced by his massive possessive and obsessive streak. He isn’t so bad at the beginning, but once he realizes he requires you, he begins to be clingy like glue, manipulative, and too lucid into insanity. 

It’s likely you two met during the military, the KorTac team being famously known for its dangerous members, including the many and König, Nikto, and the tiger himself. Maybe you were a new recruit with a code-name being as dangerous as themselves– which intrigued Kim. 

Although, you could’ve met outside his prime area. A kind stranger, showing a simple act of kindness. And could you blame him for falling for you? You’re exactly what he needs. 

He isn’t sure what’s so lovely about you. You’re like a drug, an addiction. Just like his past gambling one. And he knows you’re an addiction. You’ve crawled underneath his skin, and no high on earth can compare. And Horangi has fucking compared them all.

He loves admiring you from afar. Just staring at you, and though he doesn’t mean to make you nervous, he can’t help himself. You’re so pretty. So oblivious to the things he’d love to do, things he’d hate to do, and things he has done for you. 

He leans against the wall, looking at you from a distance with a subtle smirk when you notice his gifts. He leaves them everywhere for you, even inside your house, on your comfy bed. The look on your face each time gives his goosebumps, a reaction so pristine at what he got you. Sure, a bit naughty. But he knows you’ll enjoy it, regardless. 

The tiger and him work together on following you — stalking their prey from a distance. Yet, he feels insane whilst doing so. He bites his cheek so hard that he makes himself bleed, fighting against the natural instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you. Every pair of eyes that’s ever looked into yours. The arms and fingers who have ever touched you. And in a way, Kim selfishly wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They’re all a hindrance. All of them. 

It’s no surprise that the famous tiger is rather blunt about things, it’s who he is in nature. Just how predators are, anyway. His attraction toward you is obvious, bothering not to hide it. Fleeting touches and constant flirting, claiming he’s simply being honest with you. Of course, Horangi isn’t a liar, at least not in his eyes. And truly, before he met you, he wasn’t. And strangely, he still isn’t. He speaks truth, he’s just being overly dramatic with it. 

Your situation might be bad, perhaps there’s certain people you cannot trust. Horangi makes it seem as though you can’t trust anyone, aside from him of course. And, if you already have trust issues, it’s just extra points for him; making his job much easier, the gambling leaderboard kicking in with more coins. He’s aware that he’s tricking you, deceiving you in a roundabout way. But, he, in some way, believes it too. 

It’s primal, the way he wants you. Beyond anything that has words lisped under a single breath. Relishes the day you say the word mine. Wants to carve his name into your lower hip, his initials, last name included, stuck on you forever. Wants to hear you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter K. Hear your heart struck, feel and taste the blood. 

But, of course, he wants you to do the same. Wants to roll on his back on your bed, chest naked and let you sit on his lap, feel your hands on him, craving him just as much. He wants you to bite him. Scratch him. Make him bleed. Lavish him in so much needed love that he ends up losing himself to pleasure. But, those are just mere ideas for him, having him wait for the right time. 

Besides his obvious… sexual desires, Horangi desires for your attention. Constant awareness of him, which makes him approach you, despite his obvious awkwardness of conversation. 

He starts with small talk — watching you closely. Seeing what you like to talk about. What you dislike. What you love expressing with. He watches your body language, knowing you because of the few tricks he learned from his past.

With the amount of stalking he does, he knows your schedules by heart– randomly appearing at your station with a bag full of your favorite food, and some sweets. He even brings a board game for fun, sharing a few rare touches with you when you thank him. 

Horangi smiles at himself under the mask, finally shivering at the sight of you touching him. Which makes him try on making you weak, at least on the knees; finally accepting him as your only boyfriend and soon-to-be husband. 

And when you do accept Kim, he’s immediately placing himself whenever you go. You and him immediately move into a house together, large enough for you two and maybe a furry animal. But that doesn’t mean he leaves you alone, quite the opposite. 

Heading off to see a friend? He’s coming! Need to head to the store for more body wash, why not let him go instead? He’s fast, and willing to pick up dinner for the two of you. Or, he’s more than happy to come with you! 

You wouldn’t want to be alone… right? If you do, his touch becomes more dominant. His nails scratch and bruise. But he only shushes you, cooing at the marks he leaves on your skin, looking at you with iridescent eyes, “M’ sorry, you know I hate letting you go.”

With affection he shows it clear like glass through cooking, touches, and acts of service. He does everything you want him to do, and ironically, he’s a house-husband when he’s at home; doing most house-chores and cooking. 

He shares the same dishes his eomma used to make for him as a kid. He’s excellent at diving vegetables, and loves cutlery platters. Although, Kim has a fear of you burning yourself, so when he’s not cooking, he helps by watching. He usually adds suggestions, or stirs the pot when asked.

His touches are overwhelming. He’s constantly touching you in some way, nudging your hand and legs, grunting for a kiss or your hand within his. A hand on your waist. His lips chasing yours, growling when you don’t give in fast enough, when you don’t melt like he does. His grip iron clad when you hold hands.

If you haven’t noticed, it’s obvious Kim can’t function properly when he’s gone too long without you. He swings too hard during training. Looks into people’s eyes with nothing but annoyance; his brown eyes tearing into their souls. He rips his bandages, snaps his red and blue pens by holding them too tight.

As long as you promise to be his, Kim will provide you with whatever you want. Your hands are to open at whatever you see; the price being negotiable up to a grand or two. But of course, he comes with his own things– surprising you by random gifts that he thought of you at the moment, a gentle smile plastered on his face when he sees you light up at it. 

Possessive and lightly jealous like no other. He lets others know you belong to him with much PDA. He sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else can see. Bites that are deep into your neck and any part of your body. Having you sit in his lap whenever you’re in public, snuggling his face into your neck as you two talk. 

Despite his unhealthy need for control, following and touching you everywhere, you’re still allowed to have friends. He doesn’t isolate you, completely. However, if he needs to, he will. Kidnapping isn’t on his radar, at first. If you ever try to leave him, in either way, he has you branded in ropes within the next few hours. It was rather an impulsive act, but Horangi needs to have you by himself, no?

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[luveline]

Hi lovely, how are you? Idk if you're doing the blurbs still but if you are, can you do something like Eddie taking care of a hungover reader that just partied to hard with her friends? Or something with hockey! Eddie because I love him and you ❤️

I'm good thanks! I hope this is ok ♡ fem

"Come on, loser. Eat up." 

"Can't eat." You stare up at your friend with pleading eyes. "Don't make me." 

"I'm not gonna make you do anything," Eddie says, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon in front of you at the kitchen table with a shrug. "Feel like shit forever, see if I care." 

You pick up your coffee with shaking hands. "You could stand to be a little nicer to me," you whine lightly, more pleading than annoyed. "I don't feel well and you're supposed to love me." 

You think even a dash of compassion from Eddie could cure you. He's not a mean guy —he's been known to hug you at random moments, or lick your wounds for you when things get tough— he's just having an 'I told you so' moment, of which he's prone. 

"This is your own fault." Eddie fills a glass of water at the sink and puts that next to your plate. "If you're going to drink coffee you need water, too. The coffee will make you feel worse in the long run."

"You're like a drill sergeant." 

He finally breaks, reaching across the table to squeeze your forearm. "I just want you to feel better, you dummy." 

Your eyes dry and your head pounding, you switch from coffee to water if only to see some approval in his gaze as he takes the chair beside yours and starts on his own breakfast. Steam drifts in the air, the greasy smell of bacon tickling your nose. You poke an egg yolk with your fork, grimacing as it breaks. 

"Could I make some toast or something instead?" you ask. You really would like to eat, but the egg and bacon is too heavy. You're afraid you won't be able to keep it down. 

He rolls his eyes. "I'll make you some toast, babe, just drink your water." 

He makes you some toast, plate to his chest so he can eat and watch the bread brown at the same time, eating in that boyish way where he leans down to the fork rather than bringing it up to his mouth. It's his fault you got so drunk, in a roundabout way, though you don't actually think that and you'd never tell him if you did. He was in his stupid elf costume from his favourite book, his hair sleek and out of his face, face painted pale. Will you do my makeup? had started innocuously and ended with his hands on your waist to hold you in place, heart in your throat, pulse a hummingbird under his touch. You had to drink to forget the feeling. To avoid ruining everything. 

He seems to be taking pity on you now, swapping your plate for a new one of toast. He dips down to kiss the top of your head Eddie style, smacking. "You should quit partying so hard." 

"It felt like a good idea at the time." 

"Sweetheart," he says, pausing as you take a bite of your toast like it's his mouth that's full. He sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders to hug you. "Is it really bad?" 

"I feel dizzy." 

"Eat your toast," he encourages, softer now, not a dummy in sight. "You'll feel better once you've recouped your losses. I'll make you some pedialyte, if you want?" 

"Can't I just have gatorade?" you mumble, mouth full of toast, head full of his naked arm pressing to your collar. 

"Don't want much, do you?"

Still, Eddie hauls you to the couch with a bucket just in case and a promise to return. He drives the two miles there and back it takes to get you gatorade and he doesn't complain about it, just breaks the seal and presses it into your hand. 

It's the most peculiar thing when he sits down next to you and takes your hand. Almost hesitant at first, then like it doesn't mean a thing, he holds your hand for the few hours between breakfast and lunch until you feel better, gatorades drank, and an orange eaten between you. 

"Next year," he says, slinking down into the couch, the smells of lunch cooking on the stove, your hand once again taken and held to his chest, "we should go as a duo costume." 

"Like what?" 

"I don't know. Ferris and Sloane?" 

"No one would ever guess who Sloane was." 

"How about, uh," —he's speaking casually, voice dipped low and rough— "fucking, Baby, from that movie you like? Baby and Tommy." 

"Dirty Dancing? You want to go as Baby and Johnny?" you ask. It's the most coupley couples costume there is. 

"I'd have to cut my hair. I don't think I'm ready for that."

"Did you hit your head while you were out?" you ask. 

"Whatever. You can just go as something lame again." He finger runs down your forearm. "You looked nice, but you could've looked awesome. You could've been Arwen." 

"Oh, I get it now. You want a mental image for the bank." Eddie groans and pulls away from you. "No, it totally makes sense, you've been so lonely ever since Macy cut you off–" 

"Shut up, I cut it off with her." He shakes his head and stands. "You're starting to make me regret it," he warns, though the smile appling his cheeks shows that he's not as serious as he sounds. 

He leaves you there on the couch with that stunning implication, your thoughts racing, and when he comes back it's to act like nothing happened, your lunch nicely plated and an ice cold drink to match. "Try and eat it, okay?" he asks. 

"Sure thing, Dr. Hyde." 

[monicahar]

not what it seams...

wanderer x gn! reader, oneshot, comfort/hurt, fluff, he's referred as kuni bc wanderer is just blarhghgg, mentions of cheating and affairs, kuni being insecure, mouchie bday special ! !

anyone with two braincells could obviously tell you were up to something.

the rushed less-than gratifying kisses, cautious and hurried steps in nearly everything you do, nervous glances thrown his way when you think he isn't looking—he'd be as dumb as a rock if he couldn't at least pick up on your strange behaviour.

with how you were leaving your shared inn during the dead of the night, thinking you're being slick without his knowledge—he's growing suspicions now.

just what is it?

perhaps, you're doing errands? but why is it at night and why aren't you bringing him along with you like the usual?

are you in any danger and is unable to tell him? he's worried.

is it an affair? he's scared.

he's tempted to follow you whenever he hears rustling of bed sheets next to him during ungodly hours of the moon's turn, but he's afraid of what he'd come to reveal once he tries to pry it himself.

this is awfully out of character for him—considering he never beats around the bush and just always does what is necessary and whatever he feels obliged to.

as much as he doesn't want to admit it, it's highly likely due to the fact that your relationship is on the line—he could lose you, and he does not want that at all.

if you were truly in danger, you would've long asked him for help or at least told him in a more roundabout way should there be some type of factor preventing you from directly saying it to him. you both have multiple ways of letting the other person know one is in danger, so that's simply checked out.

but abandoning that sentiment would leave with you having an affair.

if he's right about you hogging another partner behind his back, then pathetically enough for him and his pride, he wouldn't know what to do.

just by simply imagining you enjoying life with someone else already has him stumped. he shakes his head to remove the disturbing image in his head whilst an uncomfortable feeling lurks inside his chest.

he can't stop pondering about what is really wrong with you, and it's effectively stopping him from getting a single wink of sleep—aside from the factor that you aren't beside him right now trying to warm him up with your bear hugs.

heck, he should just get this over with. like what you've always said—communication is key. he'll just confront you head on. 

if you turn out to be a filthy cheater, then he should be able to drop you easily. he has no use for a partner that doesn't carry respect for him.

...

—right?

"are you cheating on me?"

he finally drops the dreaded question one day during an unsuspecting lunch with you—saying it as if he was plainly discussing the weather as some mere small talk to share.

when you choke on your food as a response—he does not budge, refusing to look at you in the eye as he stares at the untouched meal before him.

is this cowardice? he holds in a small huff at the thought. is he that attached that he still doesn't wish to part with you even under the heavy suspicion that you're hiding someone else behind your back?

he could feel your intense gaze on him when you calm down from your fit of coughs with a haste chug of water, non-verbally asking for an explanation through your questioning stare as to why he uttered such an accusation.

unfortunately for you, his silence merely grew thicker in return.

seeing as he wasn't making move nor had any intention to speak up any more after the initial vocalising of a cheating allegation, you heave a deep sigh.

“...and what makes you say that, kuni?”

your voice came out more calm and collected than the wanderer...anticipated. a pleasant tone coated in saccharine as to somehow relay that you genuinely want to talk this out with him.

he honestly expected a much more violent response—jabbing a finger at him for even thinking of saying such a repulsive claim, slamming a hand on the table as to being defensive when pressed on a matter of being basically called a liar or being extremely defensive—he's expected a much worse reply.

you asked for what made him say that as a response, a much better retort than he expected, but not the one he really wanted.

“just answer the question. i'm not mad at all.”

not mad he says, but why is he clenching his fists underneath the table, almost trembling in the process?

he feels like he could puke. like a boiling pot of water threatening to spill its contents at how much it seethes in flames.

please answer. he begs in the depths of his tempestuous mind.

he's struggling to hold in his erratic emotions right now because he just wants an answer. a proper one that would decide whether he'd leave this table at this instant or not.

something is violently hammering against his chest nonstop as his exasperation grows.

being too preoccupied with trying to keep his composure and not break down right in front of you, he doesn't notice you circling around his seat until you gently wrap your arms around his shoulder, pulling his back to meet your embrace as you place a soothing kiss atop his head.

“no.” one word, and his tense shoulders refuse to move a single inch under your hold.

you euphoniously whisper all of it, only for him to solely hear and no one else. “i'm not cheating on you.”

the wanderer leisurely cranes his neck to look at your face, scouring your expression in bated breaths as he desperately searches for an ounce of a false truth: a lie.

after a nearly dehumanizing moment, relief washes over him like he'd just went under a spring waterfall—cleansing him of all his pessimistic and obstructive thoughts in one instant.

he finds nothing, but sincerity in your pools.

quickly shifting in his seat to face you fully, he gingerly wraps his arms around your waist as he buries his face onto your clothes, his hands gripping the cloth like it's his last lifeline.

you don't bother to hide your shock as you lightly squeal when he tightens his grip on you, feeling his lips quivering against the soft frabric of your shirt.

suddenly feeling a cold wetness form in your shirt, you raise your hand to delicately caress the tresses of his hair and massage his scalp with your fingers as you coo at him quietly.

listening to his soft cries with his face still hidden away from the world against your body, you frown as you try to think of what possibly made him think this way in the first place. your usually snarky and cynical lover crying like this wasn't a minor matter in any way.

wait a moment, is this because of that...?

“were you awake each time i was leaving in the middle of the night?” you ask straightforwardly, without hesitation as if you couldn't believe it if it revealed to be the truth behind all of this.

he sniffles as he somehow buries himself deeper onto your chest, his voice coming out strained from all his crying—“you weren't being particularly discreet, you know? you idiot...”

“ahaha...” you rub the nape of your neck in slight embarrassment. he never moved nor breathed when asleep so there was absolutely no way you could even figure out if he was asleep or not. a huge misstep on your part. “forgive me, it wasn't supposed to look that way.”

“what was it supposed to look like then?” even in this vulnerable window he's warily let you in, he's still being the sarcastic bastard he is, it seems.

you tut as if it wasn't your fault from the start. “you weren't supposed to look in the first place, kuni.”

you immediately yelp in pain when he pinches a small part of your skin through your clothes, earning him a light demeaning pat to his shoulder for his unnecessary engagement of a teasing action.

“what were you even doing...in the middle of the night at that.” he grumbles.

you hum in content when he finally raises his head to meet your eyes, tears still brimming on the ends of his lashes as his inevitably gaze softens at the sight of you looking down at him with a small smile. “i was visiting a tailor. she's helping me make a gift, discreetly as i asked to.”

cradling his face in your palms, you start to rubs circles on his cheeks, feeling the dried streak of the tears he let out for you. you hold in the urge to pinch his puffy cheeks.

“a gift? for wh—” and suddenly, for split moment—the wanderer felt dumb.

“looks like our special birthday boy forgot something, hm?” you couldn't help the smirk that crept up on your face as realization dawns upon him like a brick.

“i've finished the gift just last night, but it doesn't look the best so i was still hesitating whether or not i'd give it to you because you might not like it—”

“give it to me.”

looking down at him, you realize he's since long pulled away from your hold, staring at you with his indigo hues like a child waiting for his toy to be brought to him.

“... don't laugh, okay?”

he immediately raises a brow at that as he rubs his eyes out of its puffiness. “uh, sure. if it's that bad.”

reaching for your bag at your end of the table, you slowly bring out the gift from its confinements, shoving the gift into his arms as the embarrassment slowly eats up all of your confidence from earlier.

a doll, you gave.

a handsewn doll that looks like you to match the little one hidden in his navy kimono sleeves.

“it's...” he starts, thumbing the small details you added in to make it more convincing that it was supposed to look like you.

[e/c] beads as your eyes, some small chipped material of sorts to accommodate your hairstyle, clothes are spot on save for the small tear on its back... it's so...

panic overcomes your senses when a tear starts running down his face yet again, his eyes widened in surprise and fascination as he stared at the mini you sat on his palm.

“w-wait a moment, why are you crying?! my gift wasn't supposed to make you do that!”

“shut up! i'm just crying because it's so ugly!”

whatever the boy filled with derisiveness says, yet he holds the newly gifted doll so closely and snug to his chest, a smile so miniscule gracing upon his lips that he probably doesn't even notice it himself.

but you do.

—and it's more than enough for you to fully discard the blunt insult he threw at your gift just now.

(not what it seams cause get it? reader sewed a gift for him while it's all just a big misunderstanding? hehehehe hahahahaha😐)

once again HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BABY SCARAMOUCHIEEE pop a fart rn if you want to kiss him virtually

[sim0nril3y]

Driving Worries

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon gets a first hand experience at your driving and is less than impressed Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), teasing, canon-typical swearing, very bad driving, very British driving.

Simon had begrudgingly agreed to joining you at a drink out over your friend’s house for the evening. In your own words it was one of your nicer friends, which made him a little worried about the rest of your friends. Regardless, if it would make you happy then Simon would join. Plus, you’d offered to drive so at least he could sit back and relax on the journey, or at least that was what he had thought…

The beginning of the journey was harrowing. There were multiple times that Simon had to remind you the speed limit, wave his hand apologetically to other vehicles you had pulled out on. All this whilst you happily sat beside him, either chatting away or humming along to the music. His sunshine girl. Fuck, she was gonna kill them both.

The way that Simon gripped at the handle above him as you drove a little too close to a parked car. His eyes flickered over as you continued to hum along happily to the radio seemingly unaware that you’d almost written-off your car along with the poor idiot who’d parked on the curb. “Turn this down a bit…” His fingers diligently rolled the sound down on your stereo as you frowned in his direction. “Eyes on the road.” He commanded, now that the radio was low, he could hear the gears churning, it made him visibly wince, allowing for it to continue thinking that maybe you might right the error before needing to be told, but it didn’t happen. “Think you’re in the wrong gear, love…” “Oh yeah…” You laughed with ease, changing the gear with a heavy sound.

As they approached a busy roundabout Simon wondered if he should just stare straight ahead and pray for the best, but the moment he glanced to his right and saw you about to pull out into two cars he had to stop it. Yanking up the hand break furiously you looked at him suddenly. “Who the fuck let you pass your test? Are you having a laugh? You could have killed us both.”

“What are you talking about?” Taking your foot off the clutch without taking it out of gear lead it to stall and you huffed. “Bloody hell. Look what you’ve made me do now…” “Good. Fuckin’ hell. Swap with me. Now.” He commanded in a rough voice. Unplugging his seat belt Simon rounded the car, angrily glaring at anyone backed-up behind them who dared to think about honking. You climbed over the centre console and took the passenger seat. “Kid, you fuckin’ terrify me…” Simon took a moment to roll back the seat from where it was uncomfortably close to the steering wheel.

You had the gall to laugh, pinching your brows together and saying. “I have no idea what I did wrong.” His hands gripped at the steering wheel and looked over to you for a second. “That is the most worrying thing…” A second later pulling out safely onto the roundabout and continuing the journey. “I always thought it would be going to war that would kill me, but I think it might actually be your driving that does it.”

Leaning over she pushed his shoulder gently. “Don’t say that.” She commanded softly, clearly the idea of him not being around was something she certainly wasn’t comfortable joking about. “Sorry.” He huffed, reaching over and squeezing her knee. “You scared me.” You scoffed and shook your head. “I’m serious. You fuckin’ really scared me. I can cope with being in danger, but not… not you.” He said, squeezing your knee again, feeling terror bubbling at the base of his spine.

The night with your friend and her partner hadn’t been as bad as Simon had been expecting, it was a nice evening so you’d had a little BBQ whilst sat in their back garden. They both seemed nice enough and Simon was just happy to get a little insight into your life outside of him.

A few paces in front of him you approached your call, pulling your keys from your purse and said. “I’ll drive-” In a second Simon snatched then from your hands and wrapped his arm around your waist to yank you firmly back against his warm body. “Absolutely fuckin’ not.” You laughed as he walked you forward pressed you against the car. “I value my life, but more important I value your life.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your face. “Get in.” He smacked your rear as he moved to the other side of the car.

Masterlist | Ask | 09-09-2023

[gold-rhine]

Afab! Scaramouche x GN! Dom reader first time

A\N: I guess technically it’s hurt\comfort. sigh. I don’t like to center my writing of trans characters on negative emotions, if you’ve read my previous stuff, you know when I write afab! male characters it’s like. Just guys, who happen to have pussies, having sex. And that’s how I initially started to write Scara’s afab first time prompt, but his canon storyline is so overtly about struggle of dysphoria, anxiety and self-hatred that it felt wrong to not incorporate it into my explicitly trans fic. So I had to rewrite it completely and I’m taking his part out of the compilation so ppl who want to avoid heavy topics and just have a good time reading smut can skip it. Otherwise, give it a try if you like complicated brats, I think it’s one of my good pieces and it has a happy ending.

Warnings: not sfw. graphic descriptions of dysphoria, anxiety attack, dissociation, angst, self-hatred, allusion to self-harm. Fingering, edging, overstim, spanking, oral (character receiving), vaginal sex. Cock stands for strap too, as usual.

Wordcount: 2k

You try to start slow and gentle with him, but he huffs mockingly.

“How long are you going to be wasting my time?”

“This is literally your first time, you little git.”

“Maybe you mortals need to be coddled, but I’m not a weakling.”

But despite his bravado, he’s tense when you kiss him, he doesn’t know how to properly kiss you back and what to do with his hands, so they just limply hang down. When you start opening his clothes to reveal his chest, he’s becoming more and more wooden. You try kissing him, his cheek, his neck, but it doesn’t relax him and he refuses to meet your eyes, still painfully clenched up, jaw locked tightly, like he’s preparing for something bad that he needs to just get through. He is not out publicly yet, still clinging to the belief that if he conforms to her expectations well enough, his mother will accept him. He’s so critical of himself all the time, especially of his body, which is just horrible and wrong, he hates seeing it himself and hates even more the thought of someone else seeing him naked.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask quietly. “We can stop.”

“No!” he snaps. “I’m great. I don’t need to stop, are you stupid?!”

He wants you, is the thing. He wanted you for some time, got butterflies in his stomach, fantasized about you at nights. He wanted you more than anyone else in his life. So if he can’t bear even for you to see him, to have sex with him, then obviously something is deeply, fundamentally broken in him, no hope for him at all.

So desperately, he tries to find a roundabout solution. He’s still wearing a skirt, which he normally hates, but now it’s convenient, you could fuck him without taking it off.

“We don’t have to take off my clothes. There’s nothing good to see anyway. ”

He sounds frantic and frustrated, eyes alight with anger, and this does not look like a good situation to continue to you.

“It’s not a big deal, we can do it some other time when…”

“It’s just a cunt, you don’t need to see it!” He finally meets your eyes and you realize the brightness in them is not from anger, it’s from held back tears, because he believes you are rejecting him no matter what you say, “Why wouldn’t you just fuck it?!”

He hates his body and he doesn’t even want to have a pussy, but somehow subconsciously he feels like the one he has is also wrong, not even good enough for fucking, that whoever sees it will also recoil in disgust, as he does when he sees himself in the mirror. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but he can’t help feeling like this, and he hates himself even more for this idiotic, nonsensical weakness, so this spirals into this vicious, unending cycle of self-disgust that he can’t see a way out of. What the fuck is so wrong with him that he can have a person he wants so much touching him and still be petrified, when it’s so easy for everyone else, and when…

You scoop him into your arms, turn him around so he doesn’t have to face you and hug him close to your chest. When he gasps and tries to protest, you clasp your hand over his mouth, kiss his ear.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t look. But you need to calm the fuck down.”

He wants to struggle, but he’s so touch starved that when you embrace him, your warm breath on his skin makes him melt, especially combined with the wave of relief from your promise. He stops fighting you, curls up into a little ball in your arms, hiding his blushing face in a pillow, humiliated by how good it feels to be held, how little it takes.

“You don’t want me,” he says, miserable, but stubbornly proud, when you let go of his mouth. “You just pity me. I don’t want you to be here just because you feel bad for me.”

“I want you. I just wouldn’t want to fuck someone while they’re having a nervous breakdown. You or anyone else, for that matter.”

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “I’m fine. I will be fine. Just do what you want to me, ignore my reactions, and soon I won’t even feel anything. It’s okay. I’m a puppet.”

It’s the conviction in his voice, the absolute certainty that there’s no better option that breaks your heart a little.

“Fucking hell, do you even hear yourself?”

“Why?” he says, face pressed against pillow, but calm, limp in your arms, a puppet with cut strings, and you hate it. ”It’s true, I am not like normal humans. You don’t have to treat me as one. It’ll be easier for the both of us, in the end.”

Maybe I just want you to feel good, baby.”

“Pffft,” he snorts like it’s ridiculous, like you’re naive and this option is not even on the agenda, and also so stupid he doesn’t even want to argue about it. “Even for humans, first time is supposed to be painful.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, everyone knows it, and…”

You clasp your hand over his mouth again and he starts squirming, noises muffled by your palm, but his protests die down as soon as your other hand starts siding down his body. 

“You’re so bossy for a little brat, aren’t you?”

You flip up his skirt and slap his ass, and he jolts up in your arms, gasps against your skin. You stroke the affected skin first gently, then with more and more pressure, until groping it, fingers digging into his tender flesh. “Maybe be a good doll and let me handle this for you.”

He didn’t know it could feel like this, not even when he came thinking of you before, so good, like he’s safe, being taken care of, but also so sweetly helpless, unable to resist. His head is light and dizzy with desire when you caress his thighs, nervously and instinctively clenched up, and he can’t remember his millions of concerns when you whisper “Open up for me, baby.”

He lets your hand between his legs, you slide into his panties and find him already wet, but when you stroke his clit and quietly tell him “Good boy,” it runs through him like lightning, eyes opening wide, moan escaping from his lips, his entire body arching up against you. 

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” you keep caressing his clit, and he writhes more and more against you. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

His hand grips abruptly at your wrist, his slender fingers digging deep, and for a moment you think he’ll try to tear you off him, but then you realize that instead, he presses you closer to himself. You smile against his neck, the hand that kept at his mouth slides down, stroking his throat and down to his chest. At the same time, you slide your other hand deeper in between his legs, find his wet, pulsing entrance. You push two fingers into him, and he shudders against you, his fingers clenching at your wrist, but his cunt is wet and ready for you, stretching sweetly and leaking, his hips bucking against you. His breath is quick and frantic, heart beating rapidly, and then his fingers find your hand that isn’t buried inside of his pussy, leads it down his chest and then under the clothes, under the bra, to find and caress his small tits, and he whines sweetly, arches up, hard nipples poking at your palm. But when you take your fingers out of his pussy and press the head of your cock against his entrance, he tenses up again, his muscles spasming.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just do it! It’s supposed to feel good for you when it's tight, isn’t it? So just fuck it, I can take it!”

He shuts up with a tiny gasp when you press your teeth into the side of his neck, which lets you keep groping his tits.

“I’ve never met someone, for whom a ballgag is so obviously needed for survival before. It’s going to be okay, baby, relax.”

You stroke his clit and massage his breasts, cutting his protests short, his hands clutching helplessly at yours, not trying to stop you, but just trying to be grounded. 

“What if it’s not going to be okay?” he asks quietly, his face buried in a pillow. “What if I’m just built wrong, if it’s just always going to hurt when you try to fuck me?”

“Then we’ll figure out something to do that doesn’t involve penetrating your pussy. It’s not that hard, baby.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to leave you just because I can’t fuck your cunt.”

“Really?” he asks, choked, trying for sarcasm, but failing badly, a raw edge in his voice. 

you would just switch to eating him out, but he seems pretty hung up on the inability to take you in, but from how easy it was to fit your fingers into him, how he seemed to enjoy it, you’re pretty sure the issue is psychological. So you stroke his clit, squeeze his breasts and kiss at the side of his jaw. You can feel his entrance involuntarily pulsing open and you push the head of your cock into him, feeling him stretching wider. He turns his head to you in alarm, but you catch his mouth in a kiss, keep caressing his body and slowly moving deeper into him. His fingers move from your wrists to intertwine with your hands, and when you squeeze back, he comes so quickly in your arms, before your cock is even fully sheathed inside of him. 

You hold him through the orgasm, then slide out of him, but then he turns in your arms, until he’s under you, he’s looking up at you, instead of being held. 

“I want more,” he breathes out, hot and heavy, and before you can think of the answer, he pulls his clothes open, opening his bra and revealing his chest, and then tugs his skirt and soaked panties down. He lies under you, both trembling and determined, his breath fast and nervous for exposing himself to you after trusting you won’t be disgusted with him, that you’’ll *want him*. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you run your eyes over him and kiss him, hard, and he presses himself against you, kisses you back with desperate abandon, but still when you break away from each other, he asks, his voice small. “Really?”

In response, you pepper him with hungry kisses, from the neck down the chest, ribs, stomach until you cover his swollen pink pussy with your mouth, while he’s leaking sweetly under your lips. When he comes, and he comes quickly, moaning loudly, you pull him close and kiss his lips with the taste of his own arousal.

“Really,” you tell him softly, while he’s blushing, soft and squirming against you. He shoots you a wry little look that you already came to associate with trouble coming, and says, trying to sound superior, but failing because of mischievous little smiles breaking his act

“So you like this body? That’s so degenerate of you, who would even like something so ugly and…”

He yelps and shuts up when you forcefully turn him over to lay on his stomach and slap his ass, but he looks pleased afterwards.

“There are much better ways to get spanked, you little brat.”

He arches his back, popping up his ass and spreading his thighs to show off his wet flushed pussy, entrance pulsing up open for you. Then he looks at you over the shoulder, eyes glinting in excitement, and sticks out his pink little tongue at you.

“Oh really?”

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, I appreciate all the time you put into this blog and everything that you do.

I was wondering if you had any fic recommendations where Aziraphale can't say "I love you"?

Like, after years of being afraid of Heaven finding out he just has a really hard time saying it? I know it’s oddly specific, but I figured I'd ask. Thank you so much for your time. Have a lovely day. <3

Hello! You can check our #denial of feelings tag for fics along these lines. Here are some where Aziraphale struggles to express his feelings for Crowley...

the one where aziraphale can't say I love you by assbuttsinlove (G)

aziraphale wants to say I love you but he can't. but he really really wants to. so crowley helps. first kisses and fluff. and a touch of angst.

E pesa come l'anima by D20Owlbear (G)

[3 + 2 +1] Three times Aziraphale never began the words, two times he fails to get them out, and one time he finally managed it. I love you hung heavy in Aziraphale's chest like an ornament on a too-small, too-barren tree, dragging down the branches with the weight and intensity of it until it nearly falls and shatters into pieces and rips itself from his lips. But instead he said, "Or I'll never speak to you again!" And that was almost the same, and he knew Crowley heard it too. That Crowley heard I'll never speak to you again and knew it meant I don't dare lose you, I love you. But then the world didn't end and he wasn't shipped off to his platoon and he was with Crowley still, his oldest and best friend in any world there might ever be and… he still couldn't say it. He's had thousands of years to practice beating it down, to keep it to himself, to only let Crowley know of his affection in the most roundabout of ways, and only a few months to unlearn it all. But, Crowley deserved more than that. Aziraphale deserved more than that too!

But The Smoke Clears When You're Around by midnightdragons (T)

“Mhm,” Crowley mumbled, before closing his eyes, curling back up around Aziraphale, and promptly falling back to sleep, one hand hooked loosely around the angel’s middle, his face pressed into his chest. Aziraphale looked down at him, his heart seizing in his chest, and gently hugged him close. “You are silly, my sweet boy,” he whispered breathlessly, sparing a single chaste kiss to the demon’s forehead. “And I . . .” Love you, he wanted to say. Wanted so badly to say it, to reveal it to the world, if only for a single moment.

After the Armageddon that wasn't, Crowley can't rid himself of the trauma caused by a certain event, and shields himself with defensive anger and a mask of irritation. Aziraphale convinces him that it's okay to rest and recover. (Alternatively: purely sleepy intimacy, comfort, and fluff, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke in a bookshop.)

Definitions of Love by organizechaos (T)

Aziraphale thinks that all the abuse and trauma he endured in heaven is ‘love’. After being freed after the apocalypse, the angel is beyond happy. He wants nothing more than to spend eternity with Crowley but the demon is ready to put a name to their feelings. They both know that they care for each other deeply and when Crowley finally has the courage to put it in words (‘I love you’), it sends Aziraphale spiraling into believing Crowley will start treating him like heaven did. "We- we don't have to pretend anymore.” Crowley stuttered out, golden eyes looking frantically about the angel. His sunglasses were clutched tightly in the palm of his hand, “The apocalypse is over, it has been for years. Can't we- can't we say it now?" his voice wavered only slightly. "I don't love you, Crowley." Aziraphale emphasized each word to better help the demon understand. He had never truly loved something in all his years of existence, he didn’t think he was capable. To love another being — especially Crowley... "I could never love you."

An Angel and a Demon Dined at the Ritz (And Everything Went Downhill from There) by AshCommaMan (T)

Always offering. Always asking a question he must know will only ever get a “no” in response. And yet he asks anyway. “Anywhere you want to go.” You know I would do anything for you. “You go too fast for me, Crowley.” You deserve better than what I can give you. All that, and still, nothing has changed. In which Aziraphale must stop running from his feelings, or risk losing his best friend forever.

- Mod D

[ur-fav-h-anon]

I Get Off

Finally, the Donaka fic. it's only been a month to the day that I haunted Julia's blog with this. My excuse is that I got distracted by watching CSI.

TW's: Implied consent (I don't know what else to call it. Its not noncon, and not really dubcon.), voyeurism, power imbalance, fingering (but no penetration. I prommy it makes sense), Donaka cares in his own way.

You’re not exactly sure what it was that tipped him over the edge. The best guess you could make in your thinking impaired state is that it was an accumulation of many, many small things, some of which may not even be your fault. But, however it happened, whatever caused it, it was of little importance to you right now. 

You hadn't processed what was happening until he had forced you into an unused bedroom of his house. It was only once you saw the camera set up, pointing at the bed that you understood at least partly what was about to happen. Normally his cameras were hidden, out of view and unnoticeable. He wanted you to see this one, he wanted you to know that whatever he did to you in here, people were watching. He had then ordered you on the bed and made you sit on the end so he could adjust the camera. Once he was sure the camera was set up to his liking he ordered you to strip as he turned around to open a familiar silver briefcase. 

Had he started streaming? There was really no way to know. All you knew was that you needed to strip for him. So you do. Maybe if you had known what was going on you would have made a show out of it, taking your time stripping off your light camisole and loose skirt. By the time you're down to just your panties and bra he's turned around again, now  donning the mask and heavy gloves that you know so so well. His dark eyes are unreadable from where they show through the eyeholes, you think he could be amused but really you don't know. Instead of thinking about it you focus on stripping off your underwear, but he interrupts you with a hand.

He manhandles you down on the bed, splaying you out just so. what you don't notice, too busy with the feeling of his hands on your body, is how he adjusts your head in a roundabout manner, until it's nestled comfortably against him. What you don't know is that from where he rests it your face is completely out of frame, the view of the camera starting at your collarbones.

Your bra is already off on the floor but your panties are still on, something he remedies with dexterity that you often forget he's capable of. You know he does just about everything in life the same way he practises martial arts, heavy and sure. So it's easy to forget that he's capable of more than that at times. 

Once you're bare he adjusts your legs again, making sure that you're at a good angle for his touch more than for the view of the camera. He rests a hand down on your core, just cupping it gently as he settles you, his other hand on your lower stomach to hold you where he wants. As soon as he's satisfied, the hand over your core starts to explore, just moving in gentle strokes, top to bottom, to make sure you're wet and ready for the pleasure almost pain he's going to inflict on you. He can feel you, not with the thick leather of the glove in the way, but he knows your body, he knows when you're ready. And when you are, he starts his torture of you

One of his fingers finds your clit and starts to circle, drawing whines and moans out of you with ease. What you don't know as he draws sound after sound out of you is that he's the only one that can hear them. There's no sound on the stream. He may show you off, but you belong to him, only he has the privilege of hearing the noises you make and seeing the way your face twists in pleasure.  

He stares down at you from behind the mask, dark eyes watching you as he works you up to the peak then denying you. He does it again and again, swirling thick gloved fingers in tight circles over your clit. He knows you well enough to tell just by the noises that pour out of your mouth how close you are to that sweet peak. 

You are his, his bird in hand. He knows exactly with how much pressure to hold you. He knows exactly how many times he can deny you before you become squirmy and hard to handle. And its when you reach that point that he switches tactics. Painful denial becomes intense pleasure. 

You know the exact moment he chooses to switch, even through hazed, glassy eyes you can see the moment the look in his dark stare switches from dangerous amusement to ravenous hunger. 

He works you up again, but this time, he doesn't slow down on you. No. This time he speeds up, almost brutally forcing you up and over the highest peak of pleasure. And he doesn't slow down then either. He maintains the tight, fast, heavy circles as you writhe and shutter and scream for him. He forces orgasm after orgasm out of you, giving you what feels like as many as he denied you. You have no idea what either of those numbers are, they are lost, first to the frustration of denial, then to the overwhelming pure ecstasy he inflicts.

It doesn't take long for you for the pleasure to consume you completely and just like he knows how much denial you can take, he knows exactly how far to ecstasy he can send you. It wouldn't do to break you, at least that's what he tells himself as he removes his hand from your core. He peels off the leather glove, dropping it on the bed beside you to avoid smearing your wetness on your skin, something he knows you hate. You're too far gone to react as his bare hand gently caresses your body and adjusts you into a position to cover your modesty. 

And just like that, the show is over.

He removes the remaining glove and mask and strips off his suit jacket. He doesn't bother to redress you in your own clothes, instead manipulating your pliable body into the jacket that dwarfs you. He's only gentle like this in moments you won't remember, times when you're not in your body to witness the almost tenderness with which he picks you up and takes you to the small room you've claimed as your own. He cleans you up and settles you in the nest of blankets you call a bed. You're safe there, all tucked up and observed at every angle by his looming eyes.

Later, when he's settled back in his office, watching you sleep contently, he looks over the almost obscene amount of money his showing of you generated and plots exactly how he's going to spend it on you.

[sissylittlefeather]

Hi!! Can you write an Elvis x reader smut where they meet after one of his performances while he's still supporting Hank Snow and he takes her back to his hotel where he finds out she's a virgin. At first he tries to stop everything, not wanting to pressure her into anything but she reassures him that it's what she wants and he's really sweet and making sure that she's okay the whole time? Sorry it's so long!

Sorry this took me so long! I had a lot of fun writing this! Thank you for asking for it 😁. I hope it's everything you wanted it to be!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, f/m p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, cussing, unprotected sex, reader is a virgin, small mention of blood

A/N: you can go with Austin!Elvis or Real!Elvis, it's totally up to you, as long as you like him Sweet!Elvis.

Anywhere We Want

Wow. You'd heard that Elvis Presley was an impressive performer, but you never dreamed watching him would make you feel this way, with this heavy, twisty feeling in your stomach and your heart beating so intensely. Something about him just made you feel things you've never felt before. It occurs to you that you're the last of your friends to be a virgin. You've kissed boys, but never anything more. Now this man dances on stage and the place between your legs is reacting in the strangest ways. Everything feels warm and slippery. Still, you do your best to ignore all of these new sensations and follow your friends to the carnival before your mom's favorite singer, Hank Snow, takes the stage.

"Y/n let's ride the Ferris wheel!"

"No, let's play games!"

"Actually I'm hungry."

Your friends are busy trying to figure out what to do next when you spot Elvis. He's standing in a dark corner alone, leaning against a wall, watching the carnival happen around him. He looks kind of lonely and sad. You wonder if he has anyone in his life that doesn't fawn over him constantly, anyone who truly knows him as a person and not a performer.

"Y'all go on ahead. I'll catch up. I just need to find a bathroom." You say to your friends as you turn your back to them and walk away. You don't walk directly towards him because you don't want them to follow you. Instead, you go a roundabout way and manage to come up on his dark corner from a different side.

"Are you okay?"

He jumps a little and puts his hand on his heart.

"Geez, darlin' you scared me. I must've been lost in thought." You watch him rearrange his face to be the mask of a performer. "You want an autograph or something?" His smile is distractingly attractive and you almost just say "yes" and walk away. But something inside you pushes you to ask again.

"Nah, I don't need anything. Are you sure you're okay?" You tilt your head slightly and look him in the eyes.

"Oh yeah, I'm great, kid." He smiles again, a little less brightly this time. Then, he looks at his shoes for a bit before bringing his eyes back up to meet yours.

"Actually, I don't know why I said that. I'm not great. I'm tired." You nod your head reassuringly.

"I bet you are. Everyone wanting you to be on all the time probably gets really old." He relaxes his shoulders and his eyes soften a little bit.

"That's exactly it. I have to be on all the time. Everyone wants Elvis Presley. No one wants me." Your heart breaks for him a little bit. There's something tragic about this man that everyone loves feeling so unloved.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't even know your name. You must've really caught me off guard." He laughs a little bit and his smile is more natural than you've seen it so far.

"I'm y/n. And people always tell me I'm easy to talk to. I guess it's true." You shrug and give him a small smile.

"Yeah, it is true. Thank you for listening, y/n." He puts his hands in his pockets and looks out at the carnival.

"You wanna get outta here?" It's a cheesy line, but something makes you think he just wants an excuse to escape. You're happy to be his excuse.

"Sure. Where should we go?"

"Somewhere quiet, where we can keep talking. I like talking to you. That okay with you, honey?" You get goosebumps all over when he calls you honey. You hope he never calls you by your actual name. He puts his hand out for you to hold.

"If we hurry, we might get out unnoticed." You grab his hand and he takes you around to the back side of the carnival to a parking lot of sorts. He walks to the passenger side of a yellow Cadillac. You have a brief moment of panic as you realize you're about to get in the car with a stranger. He notices your apprehension.

"We don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to. I know you don't know me from Adam." You can't explain why, but you trust him.

"No, I'm okay. We can go." He raises his eyebrows as if to ask if you're sure.

"Really. I trust you."

He opens the passenger door for you and you slide into the front seat. Everything he does makes your heart beat faster and you feel hot all over. What is it about him that is making you act so crazy? He positions himself behind the steering wheel and starts the engine. When he turns around to back out, he puts his arm on the seat behind you, inadvertently putting his arm around you. You feel yourself blush, but you look away to keep him from noticing.

"So you know my dark and lonely secret. Tell me something about you that no one else knows." He puts his arm back down so that he can shift gears, brushing your shoulder on the way down. You shiver a little and rack your brain for something to share with him.

"I'm afraid I'll never get out of this town. I want to go places and do things and be a person before I settle down. I'm afraid I'll just marry someone here soon and never get to be a person." You've never said that out loud before. You've always just assumed your dreams would die unspoken on your wedding day, like your mother's did. But now that you've said it, you feel the fear and the desire and the drive to be something more all at once.

"Why not both?" His voice pulls you out of your fantasy. "Just because you get married doesn't mean you have to settle down. You could be a wife and a person at the same time." You've never thought of it like that before.

"I can't marry anyone from this town then." You laugh. No one ever leaves this place.

He parks the car and looks at you. His smile is warm, almost affectionate.

"We're here". You look out the car window and realize you're at a motel. Your stomach does a flip flop, but you try to play it cool. He asks,

"Is this okay? It's the only place that's quiet and away from everything." You nod your head.

"Yeah, of course." He opens the car door for you again and the next thing you know, he's opening the door to his room. The walk here was surreal as you wondered how you got yourself in this position. You're about to be in a hotel room alone with Elvis Presley.

"It's not much, but it's home. For tonight at least." He chuckles, obviously trying to make you feel more comfortable. The room is simple, with a single bed and a couple of lamps. He sits down on the bed and pats a spot on the quilt next to him.

"You can sit down. I ain't gonna hurt ya." He's so endearing that you can't help but believe him. You sit next to him, close enough to be friendly, but far enough to make sure he can't get to you too easily, just in case.

"I think if you want to get out of this town bad enough, you will. And even if you do find a husband along the way, I think you'll still be your own person. I'll punch him in the mouth if he tries to stop you." There's that wide natural smile again that makes your legs feel like jelly. You decide in that moment that you'll let him kiss you if he tries.

"And I think you can be Elvis Presley to the world and still find people to love you for who you are."

"Sitting here with you, I believe it." You see him glance at your lips a couple of times and your heart flutters in your chest.

"Y/n, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Anything."

"Can I kiss you?" He's already leaning in as he asks, but you don't care. You whisper "yes" just as his lips reach yours. It's like fireworks are going off inside you. There's electricity shooting all over your body, but it seems to be gathering in the place between your legs. His kiss starts softly, and he kisses you a few times with his mouth closed before he parts your lips with his and dips his tongue into your mouth. You match his motions and let your tongue move around his. Sure, you've kissed boys before, but it's never felt like this. Your whole body seems to ache with wanting him to touch you more. Seemingly reading your mind, he puts his hand on your neck with his thumb on your cheek. His other hand rests on your knee. You want both of his hands on your body, touching the places no one has ever touched before. You scoot your body closer to him and put your arms around his neck as he moves his hands to your waist and your back. Now you're pressed up against him as he holds you close, still kissing you passionately. Slowly, he lays you back on the bed until he's on top of you. Your hands start shaking a little. You know what's supposed to come next, but you've never done it before. His hand makes its way to the zipper on the back of your dress. As he starts to pull on it, he notices you're trembling. He pulls back from kissing you and watches you carefully.

"Honey, have you never...?" He trails off when he sees the slight fear in your face. He sits up suddenly.

"No. We're not doing this if it's your first time. I can't take that from you."

"You can't take something that's being given." He looks back at you as you lay on the bed.

"I really don't want to be that guy."

"What guy?"

"The guy that hurts you."

You think for a second while he sits with his head in his hands. Finally, you sit up next to him and put your hand on his thigh.

"Remember how I told you that I want to live my own life?" He looks up at you.

"This is part of that. I'm choosing you, here, now."

"And you're sure you won't regret it?"

"Regret making my own decisions for myself? Never."

He puts his hand on the back of your neck and looks into your eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before." You barely get out "I should hope not." Before he's kissing you again. You're not trembling anymore. Instead, this time you put your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. His hand goes back to where it was on your zipper and he pulls back from kissing you.

"You're sure? Because once this dress comes off, I won't be able to resist you." He smiles playfully. You kiss the end of his nose.

"I'm sure. Take it off." He pulls the zipper down and gently removes your dress. He looks at you laying there in your bra and panties waiting for him.

"Damn, baby."

He takes your bra off easily and moves his hands all over your body, kissing you gently as he goes. His hands are so big and warm and his kisses are light and playful. It's the perfect combination to light a fire inside you. He stands up and takes his shirt off. You know he'll need his pants off, so you go to unbutton them, but he stops you.

"Not yet, honey." You're puzzled by this because what else could he possibly have planned? He lays you back down on the bed, kissing just below your belly button. Then, he takes your panties off and drops them on the floor. He positions himself between your legs and you're still confused about what he's wanting to do. You've talked to your girlfriends about what it's like before and none of them have mentioned this. He slowly spreads your legs further apart. Then, he slides one finger inside of you. You gasp and arch your back at the sensation of something inside you. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt. It feels good. Really good. Just when you get used to that sensation, he starts moving his finger in and out and in again. You bite your lip to keep quiet.

"There's no one here but us, baby. You don't have to be quiet." You let a small moan escape your lips. Then, he does something you never expected. He puts his mouth on you. He moves his tongue rhythmically around and over you and it feels like you might die with how good it is. Still, you can feel something else building and you brace yourself for what might be coming. Your heart beats faster and your stomach gets that twisty feeling again. Then, you go over the edge and it feels like falling and flying and crashing and singing all at once. You're shocked at the sounds that come out of you as you ride this new high. Your body shudders and pulses and you can't decide whether you should laugh or cry. Instead, you just lay there breathing heavily. He moves his mouth back off of you and slides his finger out.

"How was that?" He asks, wiping his mouth with his hand. You mumble something unintelligible and he laughs.

"Good. That's how I know I did it right." You nod your head vigorously and pull his body close to yours. You need more of that feeling, more of him inside you. Now, he stands up and lets his pants fall to the floor. He climbs back on top of you and kisses your neck.

"This part might hurt a little bit. If you want me to stop, I will. Just let me know if it's too much." You nod again, still not fully confident that you can speak. He uses his hand to line himself up with your entrance and looks back up at you.

He slowly pushes the tip of himself into you. He watches you carefully as he continues to push into you slowly. It starts to sting a little bit as he hits some resistance inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from building up. It hurts, but not so bad that you can't stand it. He's watching your face carefully and as soon as he senses that you're in pain, he stops pushing.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. Don't stop. It just hurts a little."

"See, this is what I meant. I don't want to hurt you." He starts to pull out slowly, but you grab his face with both hands.

"Elvis. Don't stop. I want this. I want you." Something about what you said is exactly what he needs to hear. He kisses your cheek and goes back to pushing into you. After a few more seconds, he pushes himself into you fully and lets out a moan.

"Oh fuck, y/n. You feel so good. Do you think you're ready?" He kisses your neck and shoulder while you prepare yourself for the pain.

"I'm ready." He pulls out and slowly pushes into you again. To your utter shock, it no longer hurts. It feels good. Really good. Again. You moan, this time with pleasure instead of pain. He pumps out and in again and again and you feel like you might explode with how good it feels. You wrap your legs around him and he grunts quietly at the change in sensation. He seems to be enjoying this as much as you are. He's kissing your neck and your jawline and your cheek and your lips, all while he continues his rhythm.

After a little while, he slows down and puts his forehead on your shoulder, sweat dripping down his face.

"Okay. Now I need to finish. It might feel... different."

"It's okay." You push his hair back off of his sweaty forehead and kiss him on the cheek. He smiles, kisses your lips, and then speeds up his pace again. To your surprise, his faster speed triggers something in you too and you feel yourself approaching another release. Just as you tumble over the edge, he pushes into you hard and you feel yourself fill up with warmth. You both climax together, taking turns cussing and kissing each other. He shudders and finishes pumping a few more times. He lays on top of you for a while with his head on your chest and you put your arms around him. After laying like this for a bit, he lifts his head up and looks at you.

"So, do you feel like a person?" You laugh and run your fingers through his hair.

"That's one experience I can check off, at least."

He rolls off of you and goes to get you a towel from the bathroom. You assess the damage on his sheets. Not too much blood. Just enough to get the maids talking tomorrow. He tosses you a towel and sits down next to you on the bed.

"You should come with me on tour."

"Elvis, I..."

"You said you wanted out of this town. And you said you can't marry someone here. I don't live here. Come with me."

"I did say both of those things." Did he just mention marriage?!

"Okay then. I'll come with you. Where to next?" He smiles that natural smile that you can't resist.

"Anywhere we want."

[barn-anon]

You wake up feeling squished and realize why when you spot your Space Marine. Last night you had thought to do a movie marathon with him even though you're not sure if he truly understands everything. At some point you must have fallen asleep and he didn't want to risk waking you. He's still asleep but you know he'll be on his feet at the slightest hint of danger.

You spot his purple armor sitting in a corner of the room. You remember how he had originally been oh so stubborn about not taking his armor off. He would scold you in that language of his and swat your hands away. Then one day when he came back from one of his typical ventures without you, he was noticeably worried and disturbed. You never expected the face that was beneath the heavy helmet. Those vibrant eyes that till that moment were constantly hidden behind lens.

He shifts, crushing you even more. Without hesitating, you poke at his cheek, waking him. He looks at you and you see the mild annoyance that is accompanied by adoration. You sigh when he asks you something in his language. If only you could understand him, imagine the questions you could ask! How odd that even though there's evidence of Space Marines being around for at least a century, there's no dictionary or translation for the words they speak.

You know that there's people who understand and even are able to speak in the mysterious language of the Space Marines. So why is there no translation anywhere? You frown, getting the attention of your Space Marine who rests a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head, it's nothing you say. Yet as the two of you start tidying up the living room, you can't help but wonder if there's a reason why there's no study done on the Space Marines.

Surely some organization or even a government would've investigated and researched them? Why then is the official government stance on the Space Marines a non-answer? A shrug and a roundabout way of saying "they're here and weird, good luck". The most in depth "study" you found, was none other than some granny's blog about her life long Space Marine companion. The numerous forums of people exchanging information about their Space Marines all seem to lack any substantial answer to any questions about Space Marines. It's almost as if something is stopping people from studying them. It's impossible though right? That's just supernatural bullshit, like some fantasy magic stuff.

You fold the blankets neatly and set them on the couch by the pillows. A loud thud behinds you makes you snicker knowing that your Space Marine had bumped into the new coffee table again. You'll never know the whole truth about Space Marines, but maybe you don't need to know. It can't be something that would wreak this wonderful friendship anyways. Despite his armor and weapons, you can't imagine him as anything other than your lovable artistic roommate/companion.

[cross-my-heartt]

Crosshair’s dialogue

I cannot overstate how important The Outpost was for me because we now have proof that Crosshair is someone who says things he doesn’t mean and that’s so so important. Which is why I’m going to talk about it.

“No point in carrying dead weight.”

“Remind me not to die on your watch.”

If there’s one thing we know about TBB it’s that plot heavy episodes (especially those relevant to the main story which we can safely categorize 12 as because of its ending and how pivotal Crosshair is to the show) it’s that they don’t waste time on frivolous dialogue. Even more so when it’s Crosshair’s dialogue given how taciturn he is as a character.

Now we all know how the episode ends and why the first line of dialogue is monumental here. But I’d also like to focus on Mayday’s response because it reminds us that most things Crosshair says, and that I’m going to reference here, are taken at face value.

We know that because Crosshair managed to provoke Rex enough to earn himself a punch. We also know that because his long speeches on Kamino convinced his brothers that he was fully committed to the Empire’s cause. Hold that thought for now.

Episode 12 shows us in a very non roundabout way that Crosshair will go to great lengths to ‘carry dead weight’ if that weight is a brother. That for all his remarks about regs and their disposability he cares enough to go through extreme hardship to try and save one and even avenge him with catastrophic consequences to himself.

But what if he’s only recently had a change of heart, you say, what if he literally changed his mind when Mayday pushed him out of the way to save him in the avalanche. That's certainly possible. Only we’ve seen this behavior with Crosshair before:

He says all those things about Echo and regs only for us to see a glimpse of him putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He implies that the batch will become his enemies if they refuse to join the Empire and then saves Omega and we’re given no indication that he’s reported their survival to the Empire.

All throughout the show we see instances of the writers trying to convey who Crosshair is, despite the things he says, through his actions and less obviously through symbolism and other more subtle means.

Which brings us back to Kamino.

How much of what Crosshair said on Kamino was the truth and not him posturing and deluding himself? How much of it was his usual bravado, the biting brutal cynical things that he keeps saying and people keep believing about him? How much of it was the refusal to show vulnerability and sympathy and just a damn defense mechanism?

You could see episode 12 as a sudden change of heart for him but I like to see it differently: to me episode 12 was a crescendo in the arc of a character that’s been slowly built up as someone who says cruel things and tries to convince himself of them (maybe even succeeds at points, because it’s easier that way, safer) but at the end of the day, when push comes to shove, his actions speak louder than his words.

Crosshair cornered himself into a situation where he had little choice. Obey or die. That’s something he carries responsibility for no matter what, even if we suppose everything he said on Kamino was a front and claim that the batch were wrong for taking it at face value.

Crosshair did have a choice on Kamino, he made that choice and it left him with two horrible options. And he opted to die (because what else can you expect when you do something as egregious as shooting a superior in cold blood) in the name of a brother.

Good soldiers follow orders but he spat in the name of that in one glorious moment of defiance. He called Lieutenant whatshisname just so he would turn and look him in the eye when he delivered the biggest ‘fuck you’ to the Empire.

Chip or no chip, change of heart or no, that’s one of the most bamf moments in Star Wars, period. And as with most things Crosshair, it was his actions that were speaking in that moment, not his words.

[thecampjuicebox]

What if Gale and Tav (romantically involved or interested in each other) got into an argument over if or not he should use the orb to destroy the elder brain and it leads to this exchange:

Gale: If I must use the orb to keep this world safe, then so be it; I'll die to keep you safe.

Tav: *no longer able to keep their tears hidden* I don't want someone who will die for me! *clutches Gale to themself as if afraid that he'll disappear if they let go* I want someone who will live for me. Please...

I've been itching for some more Mr. Dekarios content eeeeeeee this is gonna hurt so GOOD

Someone To Live For

Pairing: Gale x Tav(gn)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 3rd Person

Warnings: Angst, talk of death, lots of crying, fluff, game spoilers

Dinner around the fire was awfully quiet that night. The only sounds that broke the somber silence being the crackle of flames against wood, soft chewing, and silverware clinking against dented silver plates. The troubling news thrust upon the group just a few hours prior weighed heavy on each companion's heart, especially Gale's. His mentor and trusted friend, Elminster, paid an unexpected visit to camp. Told Gale of an opportunity to earn Mystra's forgiveness. His words were soft, almost a whisper. "I'm here on behalf of Mystra. The message and the charge I bring you are hers." Tav could feel the guilt bubble up in Elminster's voice in that moment. A sadness they'd never felt before. This had to be bad. "You know where you went wrong, Gale. I trust you've told your fellow traveler here the nature of your ills." Gale shifted in an uneasy manner, tossing his weight from one foot to the other nervously. "I.. Can't say that so far I've volunteered the entire truth."

Tav's stomach sank. Little beads of sweat bubbled up on their forehead and in their eyebrows, threatening to drip into their already burning eyes. "What's going on here?" Tav questioned meekly, their fingers and bottom lip trembling. "Gale?" No response. Just a lowering of Elminster's eyes. "You two have much to discuss after I have taken my leave." He paused his words with a heavy sigh before continuing on. "In short, Gale - through his own doing - has become a living explosive that could wipe from this world this very gathering, and much more besides. For his folly, Mystra forsook him, but now she has decreed he is to be given a chance of redemption." Another small sigh. Tav's eyes shifted from the ancient wizard to Gale, curiosity sizzling in the back of their throat. Gale had briefly explained his dealings with Mystra. Talked of the Netherese orb nestled in his chest, just beside his ever beating heart, and how it needed to consume magic to remain sated. Gale's eyes locked onto Elminster with surprise.

"Mystra would consider.. Forgiveness?" His tone wavered as he leaned toward Elminster, eyebrows raising. The wizard closed his eyes for a moment and spoke softly "She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness. Mystra is aware of the misadventures that have befallen you both. She knows of your strife with the Absolute." Tav couldn't hold back any longer. So many questions buzzed around in their skull like an angry bee's nest. "If the goddess is aware of our situation, why are we facing these threats alone?" The ancient wizard nodded at Tav's question and placed a kind hand on their shoulder. "The very purpose of my presence - in a roundabout sort of way. You must know that the Absolute is more dangerous than you can possibly conceive." An irritated Tav crossed their arms over their chest and huffed. "Yeah, no shit." Gale reaches out to slap their shoulder with the back of his hand and they shot him a look sharp as daggers. It's his fault they were in this mess in the first place. It's his fault Tav feels like they, themselves, could explode at any moment.

Elminster continued, his voice lowering once more. "That is why I have come here to charge you, Gale, with its destruction. it is Mystra's belief that only you can." More questions filled the space behind Tav's eyes. The tadpole wriggled in irritation at mention of the Absolute and Tav winced. "Gale alone? How so?" A question Tav would grow to regret. Gale's lids lowered and his gaze dropped to the ground for a moment, lifting back up to meet Elminster. "The orb.." he muttered. "Precisely." Elminster turned to Tav, eyebrows knitting together at their obvious disdain for the current conversation. One hand lifted to stroke the end of his wiry beard before turning back to Gale. "Mystra has granted me the power to stop the clock, as it were, on the orb's rush to overpower you. Instead, you will be able to unleash it's lethal combustion at will." Fear rose in Tav's chest, their heart thumping at what felt like a dangerous pace. A hand flew out to find Gale's.

"You must find the Heart of the Absolute, whatever that may be, and use yourself as the catalyst that will burn it from this world." Tears stung in Tav's eyes and they wiped them with the back of their right hand, the other still clutching Gale's tightly. In a burst of confidence, Tav raised their voice at the ancient wizard, spittle spraying involuntarily from their lips. "That's monstrous! You're tasking him to kill himself!" Gale sighed quietly and gave Tav's hand a gentle squeeze. "He's not.. But it seems that Mystra is." His face twisted into a scowl, jaw clenching and unclenching between breaths. Tav wanted to cry in that very instant. To scream, grab Elminster by the shoulders and shake the gold from his pockets and the brain in his skull. How could he say such words so plainly? Surely it pained him as much as it pained Tav. Not to mention Gale.. Poor, sweet Gale.

Elminster's eyes fell to the ground and his arms came up to embrace his own torso, holding that position for a moment before reaching for Gale's free hand. He took it in his, squeezing it in a way a father would squeeze the hand of his son with reassurance. "It brings me no pleasure saying this, my friend, but such is Mystra's will. Yours must be the sacrifice that will undo the Absolute. And for your sacrifice, you will be redeemed - such is Mystra's promise." He shakes his head slowly. "With that, I have said my sorry piece, and need only to bestow unto thee the charm I was bid." Tav took a step back from the two wizards, fingers fumbling with each other to keep themselves busy as they watched. Elminster's hand raised into the air, a flurry of purple weave fluttering from his fingertips as he spoke the words "My'Nahastra Mystra'Ryl. E'Deelion Thras'Anas'Tthra." Gale winced as the orb marking on his chest glowed and sizzled, his head turning to the side and eyes squeezing shut at the strange sensations.

"It is done. Both charge and charm have been committed into your care." The ancient wizard's words directed at Tav now, his finger pointing toward Gale as he spoke. "To you, I commit into care Gale himself. I count on you to shepherd him well on this strangest of journeys." Through tears, Tav simply nodded. They wiped their eyes with their sleeve and turned to leave the scene before they lost their composure completely, boots shuffling against the dirt and stone of the campsite. Still, Elminster spoke. His words a bit louder to make sure Tav could still hear him, even though they were almost out of sight now. "Like moons make swell and wane the nescient seas, so too the sky-strewn gods obtain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet - a notion born in lonely hours - come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will. Farewell, my friend." With a puff of dark smoke, Elminster disappeared into the afternoon air as quickly as he had arrived. Gale sighed and palmed his eyes for a moment to clear the threat of tears, mumbling quietly to himself. "Farewell, Elminster. I'm glad she chose you."

Tav sat themselves on a nearby rock, hands covering their now wet eyes. They sobbed and cursed into the air, tears hot like lava streaming down their warm cheeks. How could Gale agree to such a disastrous fate? They despised Mystra for such a request. Why Gale even sought forgiveness from the baneful goddess in the first place, Tav couldn't understand. Why beg for any attention from the wretch, especially after all she'd put him through? Cast him out, stripped him of his position of her chosen, and now had the audacity to preposition him to blow himself up for her forgiveness. Bile burned in the back of their throat at the mere thought. There must be another way. A gentle hand rested on Tav's shoulder and they gasped in surprise, quickly wiping the remaining tears from their cheeks before looking up at the figure in front of them. Gale stood there, lips curved into a frown. "I'm sorry.."

...

Weeks passed now, Tav and Gale growing closer and closer each day they traveled together. The immanent threat of the orb still lingers in the back of Tav's mind. How they'll stop Gale from needing to use it in any circumstance. The shadow curse poses a new threat to their wellbeing now, and with each step closer to Moonrise, Tav can feel the impending doom grow near. With a deep sigh, they settle into their newly acquired spot in Gale's tent, legs outstretched and crossed in a relaxed position after such a long day. Gale sits to their right, nose deep in a tome he'd picked up at the Last Light Inn. An interesting read about the history and making of honey mead. Tav rests their tired head against his shoulder, eyelids fluttering as a toe-curling yawn forces its way in and out of their lungs. Gentle fingers tap a random rhythm against Tav's thigh and Gale sets his book down to encircle his lover in his arms tightly, his nose buried into the soft locks of hair. He inhales deeply. Their scent invades his nose and he exhales happily.

"Has your plan.. Changed at all?" Tav mumbles, eyes opening now to watch as Gale shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Their question perplexes him. "My plan?" he asks, adjusting their position so Tav is sat on his lap now. Sweet fingers brush a strand of deep brown hair from Gale's eyes. "To use the Orb, my love." Tav sighs. A twisting feeling in their gut tells them they may already have their answer as Gale scrunches his nose and tightens his grip on Tav's hips. Near bruising fingers knead at the flesh there and Tav places their hands on his stubbly cheeks, forcing him to look them in the eyes. "Gale.. Answer me." The wizard blinks at his lover for a moment, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. He can't speak. Can't muster the courage to tell them the truth that he does, in fact, intend to continue with the plan to use the orb. With a frown, Tav presses their forehead to Gale's, bottom lip quivering. "Please tell me it isn't true.. Please.." their voice cracks as tears threaten their eyes.

"I can't lie to you." Gale finally speaks. Large hands rub soothing circles at the small of Tav's back. A hint of anger bites at Tav's thoughts, evolving into pure rage in a matter of seconds. They yank away from Gale, standing and quickly storming out of the tent and into the cold night air. Gale blinks slowly at the sudden change of attitude and shuffles to his own feet. "Tav, come back. Let's talk about this." he calls, shoving the tent flaps open and squinting his eyes into the darkness. The air is bitterly cold. A heavy shiver rattles Gale's spine as he steps out and toward their trembling partner. Tav stands in front of the pile of smoldering wood in the middle of the circle of tents, arms crossed, head resting against their own shoulder as they mull over their words. They roll their tongue behind their teeth and turn to the wizard, face red. "Talk about what, Gale? Talk about your willingness to just.. To just.. Explode?!" Gale is taken aback by the venom in their voice and he raises an eyebrow, throwing his hands up into the air in frustration.

"You wanna talk about your willingness to leave me?" Tav's voice breaks and Gale's heart goes along with it. The metaphorical steam billowing from his ears and nostrils settles and he reaches for Tav's body, Tav swatting reluctantly as his hands as the take short steps away from him. "Tav, please.." he begs. His own resolve falters as Tav continues to back away from him into the dark. The heavy scent of burning wood and smoke assaults his nostrils as he feels around in the dark for Tav's figure, stumbling over a log and toppling into a rigid body with a thud. The air falls still as they stand for a moment, waiting for each other to speak. Finally Gale breaks and he reaches for Tav's cold fingers, intertwining them with his. He gives them a gentle tug toward his warm body, encircling them in the tightest embrace he can muster. "Speak to me..". he mumbles into their pointed ear, breath steaming in the frigid air.

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" Tav asks again as they nuzzle their face into Gale's chest, the velvet of his robe comforting and soft against their cheeks. A hand reaches up to smooth down Tav's messy hair as Gale ponders his next words carefully. Sure his true intentions would fall on deaf ears right now. He's in love with Tav. He'd do anything to keep them safe. To make sure they make it out of this alive. His heart thumps in his chest, blood near boiling with anxiety as he places his hands on Tav's shoulders and tugs them away from him, forcing eye contact. "You know that.. I love you, right?' Tav's stomach drops. They nod slowly, eyebrows knitting together tightly as their bottom lip quivers. "Of course I do.." Oh gods, here it comes. Heat rises in their throat and they swallow the lump harshly. Gale inhales deeply through his nose as he prepares his words, tugging Tav close to him again to avoid having to look them in the eye. He can't bear to watch them cry.

"If I must use the orb to keep this world safe, then so be it; I'll die to protect you." The damn breaks, tears cascading down Tav's cheeks in an uncontrollable stream of salty waterfalls. Their grip on Gale tightens now, fingers grasping at the back of his robes as if he'd vanish in their arms in that very instant. Their voice cracks and trembles through their sobs, heart skipping in their chest. "I don't want someone who will die for me!" their voice raises to a strained yell. Fists raise from around Gale's waist and to his chest, pounding weakly against it with saddened rage. Gale's eyes fall closed, a tear of his own trickling down his cheek and into his beard. His hands snap up to grasp at Tav's wrists swiftly stopping their, albeit weak, assault on his ribs. Their eyes meet his and they finally fall apart, knees buckling beneath them as they force out their next words. "I want someone who will live for me.."

Gale kneels down, face nuzzling lovingly into Tav's stomach, his hands resting on either side of their thighs. With a heavy sigh, Tav tangles their fingers in the wizard's hair, sniffling and blinking tears away from their long lashes. Gentle fingers rub soothing circles into where they lie and Gale speaks softly, voice partially muffled by the way his forehead rests on Tav's pelvis now.

"I'd die and live a thousand times if it meant eternity by your side."

[traumxrei-archive]

【 your skin on my skin 】

summary: 'nerve in my bone, i'm shaking oh no, i'm talking though i shouldn't be, i've lost all sensibility' (ft. leona kingscholar)

word count: 968 words (she's short but she's cute)

content warning: depictions of being drunk and dizzy (this fic is set in the future, and reader is drunk)

note: i blame this entirely on laufey's music + my long-ass bus rides that make me want to write random fics— here's the song, aptly titled fragile, that inspired this fic ^^

"Are you drunk?"

"Hmm...maybe...?"

"You're such a handful."

Yuu frowned at that because Leona was very obviously smiling down at them. They sat up, the very movement sending their vision into pieces. They squeezed their eyes shut.

"That's why I told you to move slowly," There was a hand too warm against their waist. And their throat felt slightly dry when they opened their eyes. Leona was there, staring once more. He always stared. It was something they couldn't yet understand.

"Where'd everyone else go?" Their tongue felt heavy now, and their hand landed on the edge of Leona's braid. They were...at a party. An NRC reunion, they reminded themselves, since it had been a while since they all got together.

"Everyone else is outside," His voice was almost gentle as he spoke. "You're the one that said you needed some air." Yuu took in a gulp of air then, watching as candlelight toyed with the soft browns of Leona's hair. It must be illegal to be that beautiful, even in the dark.

"And..." Yuu shook their heads, trying to dislodge the thoughts from their mind. "You're here, because...?" Their mind latched onto the faint hum of slow music leaking from behind the closed door.

"Because..." Leona dragged out the syllable, an imitation of their words. "I'm such a good boyfriend."

"We're dating?" Yuu's mind felt fractured and they saw the memories pass by them just a little too quickly. And yet they didn't— couldn't— believe it.

"Don't tell me you forgot," Leona chuckled and those stubborn butterflies stirred at the sound. "You're the one that confessed, at the gardens. We've held hands, and went on dates before. And you've kissed me."

"I kissed you?" Their nerves were buzzing against their bones at the thought of kissing their long-time crush...or was it boyfriend now...?

"Should I remind you?" Leona's finger slid along the plane of their cheek. "Or is this your roundabout way of asking for a kiss?"

"Don't...do that," They closed their eyes when Leona's curious finger trailed down the bridge of their nose. His other hand mapped out the span of their back, sliding down their spine.

"Do what?" Even if Yuu was out of it, they could hear the fake innocence in his tone. An undercurrent of excitement coiled in their gut as they leaned a bit closer.

"Do that," Goosebumps raised on their skin as Leona left trails of fleeting heat against their skin. His hands finally stopped, one settling against their neck and the other drawing circles on their knee.

"Touch you?" Leona simply leaned closer, until they could feel his breath ghosting over their skin. "But I think this can make you remember." Leona's lips languidly kissed along their collarbone, and they flinched lightly when his teeth scraped against their skin.

"Hey...Leona?" Yuu asked, feeling the coil in their gut grow tighter at Leona's ministrations.

Leona pressed a kiss against their pulse before pausing, "Hmm?"

"Kiss me properly," Yuu's hands were on his cheeks now, tugging him to face them. They felt themselves losing every ounce of shame as his eyes met theirs. "You wanted to kiss me right?"

There was a smile on his face as he leaned closer, "Are you sure it isn't the other way around?" Their lips tingled when Leona's brushed against them lightly before pulling back.

They carded a hand into his hair, "Let's just say both." Leona seemed to agree, if the smirk on his lips when they finally kissed was any indication.

Yuu didn't know when their eyes had drifted closed, but it made everything that much more intense. They could hear the music and the laughter outside, and yet they were right there. In Leona's arms, so close that they could feel themselves melting right in his embrace. His hair tickled their cheeks as he sighed and they allowed him closer; their hands bumping against his ears.

That clever mouth of his was stealing their breath away and it felt so...so familiar—

They pushed him away, clarity hitting them for a moment, "We're not dating! Y-You liar!" The room was still spinning around them but all they could really see was him.

Leona laughed properly this time, the sound vibrating against their ribs, "Told you it'd help you remember."

"Why would you–"

Leona's nose nudged against theirs, "Wanted to see if you could figure it out."

"It's been– Oh Sevens, it's been years," Yuu tugged at their collar, finding a silver chain there. And at the end of the chain, a ring. Their ring, the very same one on Leona’s finger.

Leona pressed a long kiss to their cheek, "Yeah, yeah. But that was cute."

"Still you..." Yuu swallowed back the complaint, seeing the absolutely smitten look on Leona's face. The damn candlelight again… It really wasn't doing them any favors. "That was mean."

"Want me to kiss it better?" Ever the tease, they thought as they leaned in, claiming his lips in another short kiss.

"You can make it up to me with breakfast," They said, leaning against Leona's shoulder. "And also, I don't think I can walk."

"You're such a handful," He rolled his eyes, and yet he still slipped an arm under their shoulder, helping them onto unsteady feet. "Let's go home. Can't focus on the reunion when you're around."

"Cheesy," Yuu let out a short laugh, hands gripping at Leona as tightly as they could.

Maybe getting drunk like this wasn't so bad once in a while. Even if Leona would play pranks on them like this, it was nice. Everything was nice, the warmth, the kisses, and the candescent lights. And being treated so, so gently that it tickled their heartstrings. And they could feel themselves falling in love with him all over again.

thank you for reading this kind-of song fic !! i hope you enjoyed the little twist at the end hehe <3 and if you did, do check out my masterlist >:D

[mari-lair]

I don’t buy it either.

Aoi is always telling Nene about spooky rumors, I can’t see her needing so much courage and build up to mention some hands on their pictures. Just compare how she approaches Nene about creepy rumors, and about this “Something important I have to tell you.”

And while she does seems to treat the hands as something more worrisome than ‘silly school rumors’, since they may be small but they are her first real  exposure of supernaturals (she does not remember anything about the misaki stairs or the clock keepers arc) I still don’t buy it.

Her fear would be understandable , of course, but if she is under the impression Nene loves scary stories, going out of her way to find creepy rumors just to cheer up her friend, Aoi wouldn’t be this hesitant to share something ‘creepy and uneasy’ with said friend.

So I personally feel like the real question she wanted to ask is “Do you hate me?”

I know the “...I was afraid maybe you started hating me.” is the explanation she offered as to why she haven’t told Nene this ‘thing’ yet, but despite how the dialogue is structured, her demeanor makes me believe this is the question she wanted to ask, she just can’t bring herself to be direct about it, which fits her character.

She tend to be roundabout and scared when talking about personal feelings, things she personally wants or fears or hate.

So let’s take a look at the start of chap 29: Before saying her fears, Aoi traps Nene in a kabedon, which is far more ‘aggressive’ than her usual cutesy bubbly behavior, and her words “Finally! I caught you!” sells the idea she has been trying to talk to her friend for a while, to the point she took matters into her own hands, making it impossible for Nene to run.

Aoi created the perfect opportunity to say what she wants, but she does not bring up the photos or guide Nene there, she drops the exageratted amount of flowers in her bubble and talks about her fears. She becomes extremely vulnerable while doing so, near tears even:

She mentions Nene ‘runs off’ a lot, and Aoi thinks about this ‘important thing’ again after watching Nene run off.

Akane said this:

The fact she tried to bring up it more than once, and thinks about it so much Akane noticed her change in behavior shows this is a recurring worry of her. Something she have dificulty to share, something that is heavy on her mind.

Like the way she overthinks when secrets are being kept from her.

And the way she is very scared of being hated.

Is hard to have a clear answer with how little focus Aidairo gave it, but I personally find it way more in character for the question that plague her mind to be “Did Nene realize I am have an ugly side? Is that why she is avoiding me? Does she hate me??” than “Why is there hands on our book? That’s so creepy, I am scared to talk about it.”

[mrsnancywheeler]

Imagine if his muse admitted that she’s never really done stuff before??? She’s pretty young I could imagine she not all that experienced

this!!! I imagine that she's done a few adjacent things before but like again not a lot at all. I feel like it kind of cements the feeling of being his girl.

nsfw

there's a heavy makeout session on the tour bus and billy's getting very handsy. you've started grinding against him without thinking about it and soon enough his fingers are messing with the hem of your shirt. when you realize you should probably say something before it gets that far because you've been trying not to show that it kind of make you nervous, "hey, billy" you've breathlessly pulled away even though you've become addicted to his lips

"yeah, baby?" his hands feel so nice on your bare skin.

you've slowly stilled on his lap, "um, i just haven't really...you know, done some things yet." the way you've said it in such a roundabout way takes a second for his brain to process, but he does.

"you need me to teach you some things?" somehow he feels himself getting harder and so strained against his jeans. you're nodding shyly, face still so close to his. then his fingers are unbuttoning your jeans, moving you off of him just enough to pull them down.

but basically I think billy is the kind of guy to find it hot that his girl hasn't done much, "saving yourself for the lead singer, best fucking groupie around"

and he really is very careful about it even though it happens in a tour bus, when billy's not in one of his moods he's very soft about it. and when he finds out you've given head before and he asks you to show him, he's convinced that you're literally made for him. it really cements for him how much he needs you, like he might try things with other groupies, but he's always missing his girl who he taught to do things just the right way for him and he knows exactly what to do to get her off in return.

it also adds another level to her hooking up with eddie because she's never known anybody like that but billy, so she's like used to just him. which probably feels somewhat just because she only knows him and be knows ever girls body who's come his way.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Notice Me (Kaeya, Ayato, Tartaglia)

The alternative title to this is “Notice Me, Senpai”, in which three of our favorite little shits try and get your attention. I may do another one for twisted wonderland, Maybe.

Reader is part of the adventurer’s guild.

Genre: Fluff

Fem!Reader, very few third person pronouns used

Asks and Requests are OPEN

Kaeya

Let’s be honest, he has his work cut out for him

His first tactic is to lay the flirting on heavy. Which doesn’t work very well. You just think he’s being extra obnoxious or trying to get you to do some of the tedious jobs for him and so, you just ignore it

Cue several days of drinking with Rosaria while he wonders what he’s doing wrong. Eventually she smacks him over the head with the obvious and he gets down to thinking about how to win your attention and maybe score a date in the process

It takes him awhile. He never thought he’d actually be dating someone. His secrets make it less than feasible, but you’re a special case. And special cases take special effort

He ends up going to Lisa for advice. Of everyone in Mondstadt, he figured she’d be the best help. She ropes him into enabling her laziness for a few weeks only to hit him with some super simple advice, “quit hinting and say it to her face, you idiot. Flowers are good too”

He doesn’t show it, but in his mind he makes a funny face. Directness? Upfrontness? Honesty? Kaeya? I love him, but he’s a roundabout kind of person. Never the less, he really, really wants to to notice him, so he listens. 

He gets Flora to for up a rather large bouquet of flowers (he may have looked up flower symbolism just to make sure he gets the point across) before having Katheryn direct you to his office for a “specially requested commission”

When you get there he presents you with the bouquet and a well-rehearsed confession that he still manages to stumble over

He’s the happiest knight ever when you agree to go on a date with him

Ayato

He goes the secret admirer route, at least to start with

Sweet letters, flowers, he’s rich and he uses it to his advantage lol

When he has the time, he’s always offering to help you with your commissions in one way or another or just as often having Katheryn giving you special commissions that involve helping Thoma and thus reporting back to him

You get teased a lot about your secret admirer, Everyone in the guild has their own theories. One of the most popular ones is that it’s Thoma trying to court you from a far

Anyone Ayato falls for is bound to be intelligent, so you’re quick to dismiss that idea. Instead, you’re pretty sure it’s his boss that’s behind it all. The flowers are too nice and the paper too expensive. The beautiful handwriting doesn’t match Thoma’-- you know full well that Kamisato Ayato enjoys calligraphy, not to mention the sheer number of times you’ve stood in his office recently. It wasn’t the hardest connection to make.

 After you took a peak at the paper on his desk, unsurprised to find that the penmanship matched perfectly--almost perfectly, he seems to have put extra effort into the letters he sends you--you spent some time thinking about what to do about this information

In the end you decide to let things continue as they have been

You’re familiar enough with him to know that he has a sense of mischief and enjoys having the upper hand. Letting him continue to think that he has it, while starting to think of how you’re going to use the information seems like a fun idea

He doesn’t know it, but you turn it into a game. One where you have the advantage

After several weeks of basking in the attention--and knowing he doesn't know you know--you request to see Ayaka, who you’ve also come to know fairly well

At your behest, Ayaka starts to leave flowers on Ayato’s desk. One here, one there. These are of a far lesser quality than the ones he sends but so sue you, you’re not a pretty rich boy, thank you very much

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on. That kind of subtle affection and communication isn’t Ayaka’s style, Thoma keeps a very professional relationship (and is directly involved in helping Ayato woo you), and no one else would dare do something like that. Seriously. 

At that point, he decides to end the game

Like Kaeya, he choses a private sort of place, only he has class about it

He sends you another anonymous letter, inviting you to the estate at midnight on a full moon. (Moonlight rendezvous? Super romantic, definitely private, totally awesome)

Of course, knowing the game that is being played, you’re happy to go

When you meet him you don’t even bother acting surprised (though the full dinner, candles and all, wasn’t totally expected). Instead you happily sit and eat with him, dropping the formality that you usually use when dealing with him

It’s the first of many games between you, this time the result is certainly a win for both of you

Tartaglia

uhhhh

I think he takes a three pronged attack method when it comes to catching your attention

The first is some fairly subtle flirting. Just because his preferred method of diplomacy involves fighting to the death, doesn’t mean he can’t smooth talk when he feels like it

And he feels like it. He thinks you’re pretty and likes to make sure you know it. It’s a huge confidence boost for you

It definitely makes you suspicious because unlike a certain Mondstadt cryo user, hard-core flirting is not his default. 

Second, instead of offering deadly bouts of violence he decides to train you up. You’re not the most proficient swordsman, specializing in less violent commissions (Baizhu bubu pharmacy loves you very much)

“I want her to be my girl and I want to make sure she can protect herself”

Also, it gives him a valid excuse to touch you without being pervy. Any other time, he keeps his hands to himself, but when training you, if he has to adjust an arm or shift your form, well, that’s just part of training (uh huh, sure.)

His third method of catching your attention is showing off his martial skills

He loves showing you how strong he his, how fast he is, and how many different weapons he can use

Honestly, he’s so obvious about all of it that it only takes you a couple months to catch on and confront him about it

He doesn’t bother denying it and instead takes the initiative to ask you out

It turns out you liked the flirting, the little touches, and found his showing off to be amusing, so you happily accepted