#don’t lick the science

[sub-at-omicsteminist]

Astronomy I-

[hashtagcaneven]

tell me what you know about rocks.

Rock shiny. Rock smooth. Rock pretty.

[ghostsy]

The Other

yandere ! ITADORI YUJI x READER x yandere ! SUKUNA

WARNINGS: yandere, misogyny, nsfw, implied noncon

A/N: A bit different than usual, less story and more imagine, I just had a Thought TM that wouldn't leave me alone.

read at your own discretion.

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

What about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but it’s 19th century Gothic Yuji and Sukuna obsessing over their cute little lab assistant.

Where Yuji finds himself falling in love with the pretty little thing that turned up one night on his doorstep. How could a gentleman refuse a damsel in distress? She’d had nowhere to go, and a woman on the streets is a woman without dignity. He’d done her a favor taking her in, feeding her, clothing her, teaching her everything he knows. Well, almost everything. 

And it’s not that she’s not grateful, no, she’s always eager to please, pretty doe eyes blinking up at him with only the purest intentions of proving her worth. 

It’s when that voice in his head that he swears isn’t his starts to talk. 

Bend her over and spread her legs.

He’d had years of experience tuning the other inside of him out, and begrudgingly grew used to the snide remarks about the so-called useless pussy on legs. But it’s only when his more ignoble half begins to make suggestions with less than savory intentions that he finds himself wavering. He tries to reason that it isn’t him, not really. He can keep it under control. He always has. 

It’s the small things really, how she bites the tip of her pencil in concentration during his lectures, determined to be of some use to him. Pretty lips parted oh so delicately, hugging the tip to her teeth.

Let me out. I want to see that whore mouth painted white with my cum.

Or when she blinks dumbly at him from under butterfly lashes, a sheepish giggle and warmth on her cheeks because something he said went in one ear, through her ditzy little brain, and out the other.

Dumb little thing would sink down and suck our cock dry if we told her it was in the name of science, wouldn’t she? 

An involuntary twitch of his fingers sends his heart leaping to his throat.

Why don’t you find out?

He drowns it out until the cover of night shields him, locked inside his chambers before giving an inch to the monster. Stroking his cock to the image of her laid out naked and moaning beneath him, legs spread and welcoming. Where the thought of licking the sweat from the skin of her neck has him hurtling off that cliff, and into the resulting ocean of shame.

Little things build up, he finds, and even with her painfully female brain, she begins to notice something off. Though, he finds himself grateful when it isn’t disgust that meets him, but concern. Oh, bless women and their nurturing sensibilities.

She’ll fuss over him like a true lady, mothering but not smothering. Anything he needs to help soothe those pesky migraines. And he’ll finally realize an acceptable way to indulge in his impure thoughts. He’ll make the street urchin he turned lady his wife.

He ignores the rumbling of low laughter that rattles his brain at the thought, deep enough to shake something important but easily forgotten in his bones.

He’ll make all the appropriate preparations for a courtship, determined to woo her as a man would, as a man should. Dress her up, and take her on a promenade through the finest parts of town, introducing her to the finest people at the finest parties.

But he reasons that was his first mistake. Because when he watches her laugh, all airy and bright, intentionally tempting, entirely too close to that brooding dark-haired duke he liked to call brother, white hot fury spills into his veins. That distant familiar desire, heady in all its glory, bloodlust, is his only warning. And the other, who’d been quiet for quite some time, smugly returns. 

A whore is a whore no matter the clothes. You thought she’d choose you?

He’ll down glass after glass of scotch, determined to ignore it, but too focused on the brush of her delicate fingers alongside the Duke’s sleeve. There’s a look in his friend’s eye he’s never quite seen before; it’s soft, warm, and it’s all it takes for him to rush to the water closet and hurl up the contents of his stomach.

Pathetic. A man doesn’t wait to be chosen. A man takes what’s his. There’s only one between us. Let me out. 

A man takes what’s his. It’s a thought that settles too comfortably in his mind, and he resolves to keep her close. No more outings with those snobbish lords and ladies. Just to save her the embarrassment of exposing the unrefined nature of her peasant birth any more than she already had.

It’ll work for a time, but it’s just a little while later that his brother turned traitor starts turning up on the manor’s doorstep with his own intentions of courtship. Excuses of their preoccupation with scientific breakthroughs and studies only keep him at bay for so long.

I’ll do what you can’t. Let me out. 

He begins to wonder whether the beast had been wrong when he catches her wistful stares out the window, too conspicuously asking about the wellbeing of a man that isn’t him. A whore is a whore. When she comes back from town with the excuse of restocking food or supplies, why does she take longer and longer to return each time?

Let Me Out.

He’ll question why it isn’t enough. Why he isn’t enough. He isn’t, not if her attention still turned elsewhere. There’s a beating at the door of his mind that threatens to split at any moment. Finally, mercifully, she’ll relieve the struggle with two words.

He proposed. 

He proposed. He proposed. He proposed. He doesn’t hear anything after that, not as she sputters out empty placations and gratitude. Not when she solidifies her intentions of leaving him.

He just responds in kind with two earth-shattering words of his own.

Come out.

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

[moon-rivr]

i bet on losing dogs

part two of congratulations series masterlist

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: more angst (to nobody’s surprise), clothed grinding, and masturbation (f)

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: hi guys 😋 (with the intention you don’t hate me after this part)

word count: 6.4k

I always want you when I'm finally fine

Miguel had you placed in his lap, his lips ghosting on your neck in only a way that he was familiar with. His fingers gripped on your hips, moving you against his clothed crotch. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. The touch of him was consuming you completely, but the fact was that you wanted nothing more but to be completely absorbed by him.

You were fueled by the desperation of almost losing him, your body practically melting as his hands travelled over your body. It felt like he was exploring you for the first time, his fingers ghosting across every expanse and curve of your body. "You were always so beautiful," the sudden whisper by your ear had goosebumps forming all over your arms. He had a smile plastered on his face, the type of smile that allowed you to see the slight imperfection in his teeth. The one that you loved so much.

"I missed you," you didn't recognize your own voice, you were breathless. So affected by so little. "Yeah, what'd you miss about me?" his tone carried a teasing tone, his lips on your collarbone to leave a couple marks on there. Marks that conveyed that you still, undoubtedly, were his. You placed your hands on his shoulders, using that as leverage as you rubbed your aching cunt onto his thigh. "I missed everything about you. Your besitos, your back rubs, and the way you fuck me," you managed to get out, finding it difficult to form any actual sentences now.

"That's it, use me however you need to," he whispered against your skin, his tongue licking a stripe down your neck. The contact had you shivering, your cunt brushing up against the tent in his pants. Your hips swiveled as you moved against him, the friction stimulating your clit. "You're gonna cum from just my lap, hermosa? ¿Me extrañastes tanto?" his voice took on a taunting tone as he saw you squirm in his lap, getting close to your orgasm. All you could do was nod to his question, biting your lip to stifle any moans that were threatening to come out.

(you missed me that much?)

"You know I'll always wait for you, right?"

Now that part had gotten too unrealistic for your own sake. You opened your eyes, a discarded pizza box in the middle of your hotel bed and a vintage science fiction movie from the 20's playing on the television. If only you could've convinced yourself to stay in that dream for just a little bit longer. At least so you wouldn't have to deal with the insistent throbbing in between your legs.

Strings of slick connected your cunt to your panties when you slid them down, your walls clenching around thin air for some kind of friction. Maybe a cold shower would help? You weren't exactly responsible for your water consumption if it ended taking too long. You stripped off your pajamas, getting in the shower and closing the glass door behind you.

Your hand ghosted down to your vagina, your fingers running against your folds before you stuck one inside. Damn it. Despite the fact that you knew what made your body tick, you just couldn't find relief. Not when the dream was in the forefront of your mind. Not when you could practically feel his touch on your skin, leaving you all too desperate as you tried to imagine that your hands were his instead. You brought up your free hand to your hardened nipple, pinching it between your pointer and middle finger.

It was almost comical the way that your fingers left you feeling much more empty than when you started this whole ordeal. Another reminder that Miguel wasn't here. You shortly established a rhythm, pushing your fingers in and out on your cunt to get off. Your bottom lip was captured in between your teeth as you resisted the urge to moan, like people hadn't done more obscene things in these hotels. The cold water hit your clit, the swollen nub throbbing for some kind of stimulation as you worked yourself open.

You applied some pressure to your neglected clit, ranging from rubbing it in small circles to pinching it in between your fingers. Anything that would make this end. You chased the all too familiar feeling, the coil inside you tightening up before snapping in half. Your slick coated your fingers as you came, the cold water a stark contrast to how ignited your body felt right now. As much as you tried to convince yourself on the walk over to this hotel that you needed to get over him, you didn't know how you would even begin to start with that process.

You hated feeling this way, unable to get over Miguel. But in a way, how could you when everything just felt so unfinished between the two of you? Even before you left for California, the time between the two of you had been too short.

You leaned your body against the cold shower tiles, closing your eyes as the after effects of your orgasm washed out. Despite the fact that the throbbing between your legs was gone, you couldn't ignore the way your heart clenched at just the memory of tonight. 'Fiancée' kept running through your mind, how the man who seemingly had no intention of settling down was now about to become somebody's husband. Maybe you should've just gone back to sleep.

You truly hated Miguel O'Hara.

You hated his stupid crooked teeth. The way that his cheeks curved up when he was actually amused by something. His stupid geneticist jokes. The way that he seemed to know your body better than yourself, working you like an instrument with every single encounter. How his eyes only seemed to be reserved for you in every event, like you were the only one worthy of being looked at by him.

But most of all, you hated the way that your stupid, bleeding broken heart only seemed to beat for him.

"You could've told her the truth instead of letting her mope around the place like a kicked puppy," Tempest told Miguel as the two of them stepped into their shared apartment. He didn't need much more specification on who she was talking about, not when most of his attention had been on you for most of the night. The way that your emotions were so clear to see despite the smile that you forced on your face. How he wanted to kiss that little frown off your face.

Tell you that's it's always just been you.

He undid the buttons of his shirt, sitting down on the couch to take off his shoes. "Her and I were never anything serious, I don't have any reason to explain things to her," was the same excuse that he gave himself over and over to justify why he kept this a secret for so long. Tempest let out a scoff, but she didn't add much more to that as she slid her heels off. He itched to go and help her, but he knew he'd probably get a heel thrown at his head if he did.

Tempest went over to her own bedroom, making a beeline to switch out of the clothes that she'd chosen for the night before going back over to the living room. "Take it from the dying person. There's nothing selfish about wanting your own happiness," she told him, walking past his bedroom to head into the living room once more. Now there was food for thought. Prioritizing his own happiness instead of trying to fix the things around him. A thought that he didn't want to entertain right now.

He headed out of his room after changing out of his clothes, rubbing his eyes as he headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "You would've been a decent poet," he steers the conversation into safe territory, conversation that didn't involve how he was feeling. "Not really. I was gonna pursue something in sports, maybe in sports medicine," she responded, walking over to the kitchen where he was standing. Tempest was fairly decent at discerning when he wanted to drop a subject, so she decided on doing just that.

"Goodnight, Miguel," Tempest spoke up after a while, her body exhausted from the events of the day. She'd skipped out on her daily nap to go to the party with him, her body facing the consequences now. Not that she'd ever voice any concern though, not when she was getting free food and a free place to stay. As well as access to low cost healthcare.

"Good night. Let me know if you need anything," Miguel told her, passing her a bottle of water so she'd be able to take her night pills. Tempest looked over at her pill box reluctantly, taking out the small capsules before gulping them down. No matter how many times she swallowed the pills, the process of keeping them down never got any easier. Tempest gave him a small thumbs up, heading over to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. Not that he'd miss any movement that she made with the thin wall separating them anyways.

Miguel laid down in bed with one hand behind his head, his gaze directed at the ceiling like it would reveal some kind of magical answer to him. He had no actual responsibility to stay loyal to you, yet he knew that if the roles would've been reversed that he would've lost his shit. That he would've gotten down on his knees and begged you to reconsider, reconsider the happy moments that the two of you had together. Albeit, most of them short and temporary but still sweet.

He was doing this to help out Tempest. Yet, she showed more interest in having him be with you than he did. She probably felt guilty for being stuck in such a predicament with him, the thought backed up by the one time she'd asked him what he got out of this. He wasn't completely sure what he got out of this arrangement, really, but he knew was that some part of him felt inclined to.

One of the things that he did know was that he needed to see this through after what he’d promised her.

"Ay mierda," he muttered to himself, trying to shake the remaining salt out of the container. A couple specks fell onto the chicken he was cooking, barely enough to cover a millimeter of it. He turned down the heat on the stove, going over to his cupboard to rummage for some extra salt. He had everything in there, an assortment of oregano, paprika, cumin and yet, no extra containers of salt. He looked over at the electronic clock on his wall, trying to discern if he had enough time to go to the grocery store before realizing he had work in an hour.

The idea of potentially bothering his neighbor was almost enough to get him to turn around but he decided to stick it out. What was the worst that could happen, anyways? That they turned out to be a serial killer and his knock on the door was the last thing that they needed to snap? Fat chance. "Just ask for some salt. It can't be that bad, right?" he muttered to himself, looking over at the door as he brought his hand to knock. He swallowed back some of his nervousness, forcing himself to bring his hand over to the wood.

Miguel knocked on his neighbor's door, tapping his foot as he waited for an answer. Sounds of scuffling could be heard inside but the door remained closed. He knocked once more, hoping that this one would warrant some type of answer. "It's not a marketer or something, just your neighbor! I just need some salt!" he called out, realizing afterwards that he probably looked like a maniac shouting in front of a door. The thought of someone passing by and seeing him like this immediately made him press his lips together and wait in silence.

Miguel accepted defeat after waiting for an answer for a couple more seconds, heading back to his apartment. He didn't have enough time to rush out to get more salt without risking being late for work, deciding instead to just go ahead and make himself a microwave dinner. "Wait, sorry," he heard behind him, turning around to see his neighbor poking her head out through the door. Well, at least she didn't look like a serial killer. Still, he wouldn't let his guard down just yet.

"I have a bit of extra salt. You can come inside while I go get it," his neighbor continued, opening the door a bit wider just to let him in. The space was much more different to his own, much more full of ambiance and personality. While he used his apartment as just a place to sleep in whenever he came back home from Alchemax, he could tell that his neighbor had spent the time in making sure that this apartment was well loved.

His eyes darted down to the multiple bills scattered around in her kitchen table, his curiosity getting the better of him. Cancer treatment bills. None of them which lowered from the thousands. Tempest came back with the container of salt in hand, rushing to scoop up the papers before he saw too much. A couple of them flailed past her grip, slowly swaying from side to side before falling on the floor. Not that it helped, he already got the basic idea. Most of those were past their due date.

"Your insurance doesn't cover for some of it?" He knew he should've kept his mouth shut by the way Tempest immediately shot him a glare, but he just couldn't help himself. A part of him couldn't help but worry about the type of cancer treatment she was receiving, if any at all. Tempest let out a small huff, her arms folded across her chest. She was trying to put on a tough persona, but Miguel was able to look past that.

"I don't have insurance after I had to quit my job. I'm not exactly eligible for any services either so it's been purely out of pocket. Hence the whole bills on the table thing," Tempest finally spoke after she realized that her glare wasn't affecting Miguel the way she intended.

"Well.. my work offers insurance to those couples who live together and married couples. The guarantee for it working when you're married is much higher," he spoke up after a while, leaning behind one of her kitchen seats. To think he came over for a bit of salt and now he was making a whole wedding proposal. "Should've left you outside to get your own salt," Tempest muttered, almost laughing at how insane the situation sounded. Getting married just to get the treatment she desperately needed.

"You know, people technically get married out of love. Out of convenience, maybe. But just for insurance purposes?" Tempest brought up the topic, her arms folded as her gaze scrutinized him. As hard as she tried, she couldn't figure out why he was doing this. For a stranger, of all things. A part of her felt that this wasn't just from the kindness of his heart.

"You're acting like that isn't a marriage of convenience."

"Nobody's gonna believe that we suddenly just want to get married."

"Nobody else matters."

Tempest continued to throw out a couple of excuses to try to scare away Miguel from the prospect, getting met with rather simple solutions to her concerns. Damn it, as much as she hated to admit it, he was pretty decent at convincing her of this idea.

While you were in the shower last night, you'd gotten a message from Gabriel asking if you wanted to come over to his place. To which you agreed to eagerly. You were planning on watching romance movies for the day while shitting on them for the unrealistic expectations they set, maybe ordering a bottle of wine and pizza if you were feeling up to it.

"You couldn't have told me that you were planning on staying in Nueva York from now on?" his voice called out from the kitchen, Romeo Santos' 'Imitadora' playing in the background. He lowered the volume on his speaker when he listened to your footsteps approach, setting down the knife he had in hand. He was in a much better state than you'd expected, you were expecting to find him in a bathrobe with sunglasses on after the copious amounts of tequila he'd had last night.

"And you couldn't have told me Miguel was engaged? I almost made a fool out of myself," you countered, leaning against the counter as the different spices filled your nose. A mixture of adobo and garlic sizzling on a piece of meat he had on the stove. "You always make a fool out of yourself, though. Remember that one time you fell at the pool during my 21st birthday?" he retorted, leaning against the kitchen counter with an amused smirk on his face.

How could you not. You'd gotten more drunk than Gabriel that night, mixing up all different types of alcohol in an adventurous pursuit. You'd drunkenly called Miguel to pick you up after the night was over, stumbling over your feet when you walked over to his car. The two of you drove around most of Nueva York, though all the buildings blurred together in your inebriated state. One of the best memories that you had despite the throbbing headache that followed the next day.

The two of you ended up at a greasy burger spot on the skirts of town, though that burger had tasted like a slice of heaven the minute that it touched your tongue. You didn't remember that much about the event itself, but you could remember the overwhelming amount of safety that you felt with him. How comfortable he made you feel in his presence. How he entertained every single of your stupid remarks without much resistance, even adding onto it at times.

He'd taken off your heels and changed your clothes into something more comfortable, showing no reluctance to do so. "Shh, it's okay sweet girl. You just drank too much," he whispered in your ear, his hand rubbing small circles as you were leaned over the toilet throwing up. "I'm never touching another glass of tequila again," you groaned, a lie to both yourself and Miguel. He continued to rub your back throughout the ordeal, staying by your side through it all. "Yeah, I'm sure you won't," he remarked, handing you a napkin once you were done.

Every memory that you had in Nueva York was tainted in some way by Miguel O'Hara.

"I didn't think the two of you had anything serious going on anymore, I'm sorry. I would've said something otherwise," Gabriel finally said, adding in the tomato that he'd cut along with the onion slices. Fair point. You didn't really have a reason to expect anything, not when you and Miguel were just sleeping around with no semblance of commitment. "Nah, it's fine. I shouldn't have expected that he'd just be here waiting for me," you responded, glancing over at the stove as he cooked.

You looked down at your phone, a notification ping bringing your attention to it. You weren't expecting to see a message from Miguel, surprised at the fact that he still even had your number. Your eyebrows practically shot up to your forehead upon reading the contents of the message, an invitation to his engagement party with Tempest. You debated on not going but you looked over at Gabriel and asked,

"Hey, how do you feel about going to Miguel's engagement party as my plus one?"

Tell your baby that I'm your baby

You weren't sure who was the bigger idiot in this situation. Miguel for inviting you to his engagement party or you for actually accepting it. As much as you were willing yourself to be mature throughout this situation, you didn't have this much maturity in you. His apartment was adorned in a mix of gold and yellow, a couple streamers hanging off the walls and a couple balloons bouncing around. "Maybe we should go. Get some food at the bodega," you suggested, looking over at Gabriel.

"No way, you dragged me out here now we're gonna stick it out," Gabriel's words came out muffled as he stuck a hors-d'oeuvre into his mouth that a butler was passing around. Miguel had really gone out for his engagement party. "I'll get you food from another place?" you tried another approach, hoping that maybe he would ease up this way. He pointed with his mouth over to the wide array of plates set up at a table, the good looking much more inviting than any bodega you had in mind. You really didn't have any proper reason to leave.

Gabriel left your side upon getting approached by a couple of family members, some third/fourth cousins that had been dying to see him again. You looked out from a distance to see him dancing around with them, anything that would be a nice distraction from looking around for Miguel. Your eyes always managed to find him in whatever room you were in. Not that it was too hard of a task, though. You stepped outside to catch some air, to convince yourself that you could last at least another hour at this event.

You didn't fit either of their lives anymore. As much as you desperately wished you did. The thought had come to you while you were in the balcony, looking out at the night sky. Everyone had someone else to converse with, someway of knowing each other. The thought stung more than you could've imagined, that you were still stuck on memories and a fling from the past while Miguel had been perfectly capable of moving on. The champagne that you had in your hand went down easier than the realization of the bitter truth.

"Hey," you didn't need to look behind you to recognize who'd just stood next to you, the scent of his cologne practically gave it away before he even got the chance to approach. "Hey," you returned the greeting, keeping your attention out on the night sky. "Is the party not up to your liking? You don't have to be outside, y'know," he told you, stepping just an inch closer to you. A scoff escaped from your lips before you got the chance to stop it, an incredulous look on your face when you turned to face Miguel.

"Are you seriously asking me that? You invited me to this engagement party knowing damn well about our previous history together. You didn't even bother to tell me you were engaged. If we weren't dating, then we were at the least friends."

"I wasn't sure how you were going to react to it. You and I didn't exactly have anything all that serious," Miguel realized it was the wrong thing to say upon seeing your expression, the way your face scrunched up in disbelief. The excuse had worked pretty well to get Tempest to leave it alone, so he figured that it would've worked on you too. Never had he regretted saying something so fast.

"Seriously? You think that I hooked up with you throughout these years just because you were a decent lay?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? It's not like we did a lot of talking when you came over those past couple times."

"It was because I loved you, you idiot! If it was just about the sex aspect, I would've hooked up with someone back in California!"

"I was gonna tell you at the party that I intended to stay in Nueva York this time around. So I guess we'll be seeing more of each other," the words ran through Miguel like a cold bucket of water, the meaning of your words not at all lost to him. You had wanted to try again. Miguel wanted to pull you back into his arms, tell you that you were the one he envisioned having a future with. But... he didn't. He let you run off, looking at the back of your head before you eventually disappeared.

He stood at the balcony, letting himself ponder about a different alternative to this one. One where Tempest wasn't sick and didn't require his help. One where you'd never left for California, where you stayed by his side. Where the two of you would clean dishes, a cumbia playing in the background as the two of you basked in each other's presence. Where that would just be enough. Where this engagement party was for the both of you, an engagement ring on your finger. A thought that he entertained more and more often.

"Oyé, Tempest doesn't look too good," Gabriel's voice took him out of the fantasy he was in, immediately turning around and scanning inside of the apartment to see if he could find her. She looked winded, despite the fact he knew that she hadn't done much dancing tonight. "Alright, thanks," he cleared his throat, opening the glass door leading back to his apartment before going over to her. "Try to stand up for me, can you do that?" he spoke just low enough for her to hear, putting one hand on her arm.

She'd been sick for a couple weeks now, he knew that much. But he'd never seen her get this bad. The thought was enough to scare him into shooing all the guests away, rushing Tempest to the nearest hospital that he could find. "Come on, stay with me," his voice wavered, seeing the way that Tempest struggled to stay awake. Damn it, he'd never forgive himself for not taking her earlier to the hospital if she didn't get better. He put her favorite song on the radio to see if that made a difference. It didn't.

He rushed with her into the emergency room, beckoning for a nurse to come over after getting Tempest seated down on a wheelchair. She was still conscious, but she was unresponsive to everything going on around her. Her breathing sounded strangled, like the action itself was causing her pain. He found himself with his head buried between her hands, praying for the first time in a couple years. The action was strange to him, but he needed to have someone to depend on in this situation.

If only he'd come when these symptoms started to present themselves.

Tempest wobbled over her feet as she made her way down the small stage that the wedding boutique had set up. Miguel let her lean her body against him, her hand tightly pressed against his chest for some kind of support. "You okay?" he'd seen her get worse these past couple of days, but he decided it'd be better not to push her too much. "Yeah, it's fine," she sounded like she'd just ran a marathon, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to regain control of her breathing.

It'd be better not to make a scene out in public.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" Miguel prodded as the two stepped into the apartment, helping Tempest sit down on the couch despite her protests. She did hate when she got treated like she was weak. Tempest shook his hands off, taking a sip from the water bottle that he'd brought over. He could tell she was just itching to tell him that she was fine, not that the lie would do either of them any good though. "The treatment's just taking more out of me than I expected. The one today just left me feeling particularly weak is all."

"The doctor said it should be expected, Miggy," though the nickname annoyed him to no end, he knew better than to deny a dying person this small thing. Though the excuse didn't sound too coherent to him, he decided he would handle this the way that Tempest wanted to. Instead of him reassuring her, she was doing the task instead. Miguel really needed to do a better job at being a fake fiancé. He let out a small sigh, sitting down by her side and looking over at her with concern etched across all over his features.

"Just tell me if it ever gets too serious, okay? If you ever start to feel too sick or too fatigued. I'll take you to the hospital and I'll get you the best shocking cancer treatment there is, okay?" He told her, taking the water bottle once she was done with it. "I know and I appreciate that, more than you know. But I'm fine, I'll get used to the treatment plan eventually," she responded, the two of them getting into a conversation about what they wanted to order. He always ended up getting what she wanted to regardless.

He thought she was doing better after that, but maybe she'd just done a better job at hiding her sickness away from him. He'd seen her smiling and tending to her plants, even going as far as humming to them. An activity that distracted her from the fact that she couldn't be outside for too long. Little did he know that while the flowers bloomed and thrived under her care, she was decaying with each passing day.

I'm losing by their side

The doctor's words were starting to blur into the background, something about how the treatment plan had been too aggressive. That her body couldn't take it. It all sounded the same to him, really. Just pure gibberish that was meant to rationalize the loss.  "If you knew she couldn't take it then why'd you force her into such an aggressive plan?" Miguel kept his distance as he spoke, every word coming out like venom as he looked at the doctor. His hands balled up into fists but he remained in the seat where he was.

Last thing he needed was to deal with both a funeral and a bail hearing tonight.

"We thought that it was the best approach. She never complained about it," the doctor told him, keeping an even tone as he spoke. Miguel's stare was full of disgust, disgust at the way that he somehow made it sound like it was Tempest's fault. He should've gone to someone better, should've done a number of things differently. He really should've been less desperate when trying to help her. His brother's words ran through his head, so many should'ves and not enough doing. And now Tempest was no longer in his life.

The treatment plan wasn't something that was meant to heal her completely, but it was something that was meant to slow down the rate that the cancer was advancing. Instead, it'd only shortened the time that she'd been given. He blamed himself for not listening to her when she'd expressed that the medication and the levels of chemotherapy were starting to become too much, each session leaving her weaker and weaker. He blamed himself for not being able to save her even if the task was practically impossible.

He played with the engagement band that had once been on his finger, waiting absentmindedly for the doctor to come. He was still processing the fact that he wasn't going home with Tempest tonight, that he'd eventually have to go back home to an empty apartment. Nothing ran through his mind as the doctor gave him the full report of what happened, his gaze empty as he looked at the blank wall. No amount of details would change the fact that he wasn't able to save her. As hard as he tried to, he'd failed not only her, but also himself.

He couldn't bear going back home now, getting welcomed to an apartment that smelled like Tempest all around. From the cookie batter that she'd been making earlier to the scent of her perfume permeated on the couch cushions. It was all too much. Having all these little reminders with the knowledge that they'd soon fade away with time. So he found himself driving over to your place without much thought. Your presence was a calming one, one that would anchor him down to earth before he did something stupid.

Headlights flashed in a flurry of colors, the brightness on some of them almost hurting his eyes as he sped down the streets of Nueva York. "What the shock are you doing, man?!" He heard an angry driver scream behind him, a loud honk following after. He should've been more cautious, he really should've. Cars were swerving to get out of his way on the road, a train of honking following him with every red light that he disregarded. But his brain was on autopilot. His only mission was to get to you.

A distraught Miguel was not what you were expecting to see on your doorstep at two in the morning, but yet here he was. His eyes were brimmed red, tears leaking out of him like a faucet as they combined with the rainfall. His grey Alchemax hoodie had turned into a darker shade, his body shaking in front of you. He hadn't even registered that you'd opened the door, his attention on a speck of dirt that laid on your doorstep.

His body clung onto you when the door swung open, holding you the same way a child would hold a teddy bear for comfort. "I couldn't save her," he babbled, his throat raw as he spoke. After the initial shock fizzled out of your body, you rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. "I tried, te lo juro que trate," he repeated as he held you close to his body, needing something to stay stagnant for now.

You stayed quiet, providing him the comfort of your presence and your touch. His shoulders shook with each sob that escaped his body, his chest heaving as his lungs struggled to catch up to him. "I know you tried, Miguel," your words fell on deaf ears as he continued to sob, his grip on you tightening. Something to tether him to reality. "I did, I really did," he whispered, sniffling before more tears began to roll down his cheeks. You'd never seen him cry this much before. Never seen him cry ever, actually.

You set the cup of tea down, his hands shaking as he reached over to grab it. A couple drops fell onto the floor when he tried to get a good grasp on it. "I'm sorry, I know I'm making a mess out of your apartment," he'd made a wet spot on your couch after taking a seat, not that it was your first concern at the moment. "Hey, no. You've got nothing to apologize for," you assured him, taking a seat next to him.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it as he took a sip from the chamomile tea that you'd brought over. His throat bobbed as he struggled to keep it down. A part of him was convinced that he didn't deserve to be treated this way, with such care and delicacy. After he'd treated you like something disposable, as something that didn't matter. But he couldn't help and be selfish, enjoy the feeling of having your concern directed towards him. Of having you still care about him.

"Thank you," his voice was hoarse, his cheeks completely tear-streaked as he looked up from the floor over to you. He got up from the couch, taking off the wet hoodie that was practically pasted onto his body by now. "I have some clothes that you can borrow," you told him, seeing the hesitation in his face as he debated on taking off the rest of his moist clothing.

You took out a black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that he'd let you borrow one time after staying at his place a couple years back. A pair of clothes that you told yourself you'd throw away time and time again, only to let them reside in the back of your cabinet. You were thankful that your reluctance to move on really paid off in this moment. You made your way over to the living room, not feeling comfortable with leaving him alone for too long while he was feeling like this.

You passed him the dry set of clothes, picking up the wet pieces from the floor before leaving to the kitchen to give him some time to change. You set the dry clothes in the dryer, starting up the first round before walking back over to the living room. Miguel's movements seemed delayed as he struggled to put his shirt on, like his brain wasn't communicating properly with his body at the moment. "Here, I got you," you instinctively found yourself needing to help him, pulling the shirt down to cover him up.

He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing right on your floor.

You'd grabbed a blanket over from a closet, placing it down on the couch cushion next to him as well as a plush pillow. "Try to get some rest, okay?" you told him, shutting off the light before starting to make your way back into your bedroom. "Do you mind staying here with me tonight?" his voice was unnaturally quiet. You were sure you would've missed it had you not been paying attention. You weren't sure what the protocol was for sleeping with somewhat of an ex but you decided to oblige.

His arm snaked around your waist in an attempt to hold you close, his body heat practically radiating onto your own body. His body shook behind you but he made no noise, an occasional sniffle here and there. It pained you to see him this upset, without being able to do much other than just offer him your comfort. You wanted to be able to take away his pain despite how upset he'd made you these past couple months. It pained you to see him so helpless, so willing to blame himself despite not having any actual fault in it.

You weren't sure how much time had passed when Miguel's body finally fell slack, snores the sound of lawnmower escaping from his lips. Every time that you tried to adjust his body, the grip he had around you tightened in an attempt to keep you in place. He couldn't bare to lose you too. Even if it was just for a couple seconds. You shut you eyes, trying to will yourself into falling asleep. After a while, you just stopped trying and let yourself get consumed into sleep.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @mvlanchqly @tomalymme @boringpersonality @laysmt @scaryplanetdestroyer @crimin4llyins4ne @cheerrioeoz @peachey-pie

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt.3,,,!!

warnings: mentions of boobs, ass (lmao) , mild sexual content, use of the d-slur (jokingly)

content: loser!ellie x reader :3 my pookieeee

authors note: these r actually my favorite things to write ever like im so glad yall like them :333

pt. 2. taglist!!! masterlist!!!!

☆ REALLY likes beef jerky. she’ll just sit there and chew…

- her hands r just constantly freezing. like DEAD PERSON COLD ITS SCARYYYY!!! she definitely uses ur boobs as handwarmers and its JARRING because her hands are actually so cold 😞😞!!!

- HER FEET TOO!!! she has some sort of circulation issues bc you’ll be in bed together and she’ll put her feet on you and you’ll just turn into a cartoon ice cube 😕😕

- the SECOND u have some sort of drama she is seated. like she is so MESSY she will talk shit abt someone she knows absolutely nothing abt just bc u don’t like them. anyone you hate she hates 💪🏽💪🏽

- speaking of she is literally so sassy 😞😞 like she will literally full body turn away from you and look at the window while you drive if she’s mad at you.

- every time you say something even remotely sexual she’s looking at you like 🤨 and trying not to laugh. if you texted her “im coming” she’d burst out laughing and write back like “geez we’re just going to the zoo…didn’t know u were THAT excited”

- has the humor of a middle school boy. she has an actual problem w deez nuts jokes 😞😞 she thinks its SOOOO FUNNY to give u fake backshots whenever you bend over around her. fake moans and everything 💔💔

- a pharb AND a barb. she definitely knows all of super bass by heart, and she knows how to play savior complex on the guitar. duality of women!!!

- every time you say something nice to her she’s like “ew thats gay” and then she gets upset when u get upset for it 😞 so RUDE actually!!!

- really likes doing facemasks with you because you always put them on for her, and because you look really stupid with them on.

- this video. js this whole video like!!! she definitely has that dinosaur hand sanitizer AND that backpack!!

- likes rings cuz she thinks they make her look cool, but she literally cannot keep them for more than a month. they get lost SO EASILY!!!

- knows a concerning amount of things about the roman empire.

- definitely saw the barbie movie with you, and got so embarrassed at the ken guitar scene ☹️ “do i do that??” and you had to hold back laughter and tell her no

- if you have little siblings, they LOVE HER. she is so good with kids its insane. she would definitely do the griddy w ur little brother and you would NEVER let her live it down

- if you take her to a family gathering, she’s either talking with your uncles or hanging out with your younger cousins. she’s scared of your cousins your age bc they’re “cool like you”

- definitely bought you lego flowers at one point and sat on the floor and built them with you

- has those glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling

- would absolutely lick your salt lamp “for science”

- one time you put her hair in pigtails and she wore it the whole day, and refused to let her friends make fun of it cuz her “wife” did them

- talks about you like a 40 year old man talks about his wife. “gotta get home to the wife” definitely has “happy wife happy life!” on a tshirt

- built the two of you a house on minecraft and put your beds next to each otherrrr :((

- carved your name on her skateboard and guitar

- had an AWFUL emo phase in middle school. terrible. was absolutely an avid tumblr user

- such a nerd about vinyls. would take u on dates to her favorite vinyl store, and buy you a new vinyl player because “yours damages your vinyls, and the audio quality is shit” (you randomly bought it on amazon)

- just knows so many facts…about things…. like she’s always talking to you like “oh my god babe did you know that-“

- would get “jealous” of your pets whenever you’d pet them or hold them in front of her. just going up to your cat like “she likes me more than you”

- made herself one of those “i love my girlfriend” tshirts with your face on it

- your dad definitely loves her because they have so much in common. grilling, fishing,camping, she’s like the ultimate dad-dyke

- can fall asleep ANYWHERE. like the second she’s tired she’s just 😴😴 and she’s definitely using you as a pillow

- one time the two of you went to a family party and you found her asleep on two folded chairs

- you’re her wallpaper on all her devices.

- every time you ask her what she’s doing and she’s playing guitar shes like “just fingering my guitar”. she thinks its SOOOO HILARIOUS

- definitely says white ppl shit all the time on accident . one time she said “lets rock and roll” when you two were going somewhere and she literally didn’t talk for 5 minutes cuz you could not stop laughing

- LOVES burts bees !!! her lips always taste like their strawberry chapstick and its wonderful

- has a pair of lightning mcqueen crocs

- LOVESSSS when you paint her nails and do her makeup (she just likes you sitting on her lap)

- definitely one of those girls thats like. obsessed w doctor pepper. its a serious problem 😞😞!!!

- has a little shoe box full of receipts, polaroids of you, and little souvenirs from your dates. :((

- literally melts when you scratch her back

- very into horror games/analog horror. definitely binge watched markipliers “faith” gameplay and talked about it nonstop

- miles morales is def her fave superhero. has so many of his comics and LOVES the spiderverse movies. calls you her gwen 😞😞

taglist!!! if ur name is crossed i cant tag u :((

@syrenada @dinaissoprettyoml @kingofmylastkiss @as2rid @greencacty @melissabarrerass @bratydoll @lov3lylotus @forelliesposts @echostinn @f3r4lfr0gg3r @r3wbeef @leatheredhearts @mousymaven @mina-281 @princessguardian444 @calystas-morning-tea @horror-whoree @slutshies @bearieio @mag-mfm @bubs-world @paran0id0blivi0n @sawaagyapong @bbygrlshelbs @gayh0rr0r @pl9ys @ellieslilslvvt @dollietes @elliesmellsbadd @ibloom4u @ddreabea @beestar120 @brunettedolls-blog @girlwonderchloe @elliesgflol @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @iloveeyousblog @fr3sh-tragedies @ilovaffles @certifedcrybunny @elleatethat @baldph0bic @clouded-whispers @4rt3m1ss @saggykneecaps @swtsuna @ell1esslutt @minixmel @yuyans-stuff @owmoiralover @thecowardwrites @lunascerebro @elliestrwbrry @iwantsoda @teeveegirl @dinasmoon @urnewghostfriend

[grimm-writings]

Hi there!

I'd like to request something for the Laios party x reader where reader licks rocks like how archaeologists sometimes do to determine if it's a rock or a fossil. They just won't stop licking stuff. One moment you are just having a chat and walking side by side and the next reader grabs a rock and licks it. How would they react to their crush licking things that are certainly not food?

“stop licking the damn thing!”

…ft! touden party x gn! reader, platonic izutsumi & reader

…tags! fluff, some crack, headcanon format, grimm doesn't know shit about rocks

…wc! 342 ; 400 ; 405 ; 344 ; 303 = 1794

…notes! this ask enraptured me i had to complete it posthaste. i’m not an expert in archeology or geology, but i hope you enjoy! 

Laios

“Ooh, can I have a lick?”

His ass does NOT give a fuck.

You could do anything and he wouldn’t be fazed I’m dead serious.

Honestly, once you do it in front of him he’d steer the conversation towards your study and how you figure out each time what is a rock and what is a fossil.

He may not fully take in all the information you give him.  This isn’t a topic he’s admittedly too interested in.

Honestly he’d probably take up some of your advice and see if he tastes monster he can figure out certain things about it.  Considering most monsters are made of raw meat, he has to be held back by your fellow partymates.

Someone (Chilchuck) usually has to encourage you to not “enable his behaviours.”

Overall, Laios simply does not judge!  He’s open and welcoming, and will even take part in your study with you!

(It’s an added bonus that he really likes how you explain things to him…)

Almost like an eager dog, Laios leans over your shoulder to look at the stone in your hand.  Prepared to explain yourself, like usual, you take a breath. “May I?” he interrupts you.  You still for a second.  Does he mean…? You slowly lift the rock up to the taller man behind you.  You don’t have any words as he leans down to give a small lick. You’re almost flattered from how open he is to it. At the taste, Laios’ eyebrows furrow, and he seems to seriously try to dissect the flavour.  He hums and tilts his head to you.  “Salty?” “Yeah,” you reply, slowly growing a bit more comfortable as you get an excuse to talk about your study, “so that means this rock might contain evaporite minerals.” Laios smiles slightly, leaning back to his full height to converse with you in a more casual position.  “Which are?” Your conversation continues, with Laios taking mental notes that he’ll hopefully remember for later next time he comes across a monster. Maybe if you find a gargoyle…

Marcille

Sorry she is so judgemental.

You are so lucky she likes you or else she’ll loudly give her opinion on how gross it is.

Well, that is until she learns the context as to why.

She’ll still be a little bit unsure, wondering if it’s proper conduct at all.

Marcille is trying her best, she really is, but you can’t just end a conversation so suddenly because you saw a rock, licked it in front of her, and said “hm… sedimentary.”

She wonders every day what she did to deserve such an… interesting taste in crushes. 

Though, like all things, give Marcille some time and she’ll warm up to your habits a bit more.  It may even be that she’ll be wondering about her study of the dungeon, running her hand along the wall, and thinking that she could call out to you to taste the wall and tell her the material.

She may not try out the method herself, but she’ll at least tolerate how you do it.  There’s a science behind it, after all…

Marcille stares as you lick your lips and hum to yourself.  Her mouth is a thin line and she’s trying her best not to come out with a disapproving comment. “Any… interesting findings…?”  She stiffly asks instead, gripping Ambrosia as if you’ll try licking her to figure out the levels of Mana too.  You can never be too cautious, even if she is only made out of wood. You smile at Marcille, either blissfully unaware of her austerity or pretending to be.  You hold up the stone in your hand and outline something with your finger.  “I think if we break this, we might find some fossils inside it.  You can keep it for your research if you want.” Marcille’s ears perk up slightly at that.  “For… me?”  She asks aloud, as if there’s anyone else who’d be interested in dungeon rocks.  As soon as she processes it she’s flushed and avoiding eye contact.  “I mean, this is your field of study, not mine!  I couldn’t possibly…” But you take her hands in your own, and place the fossil in her palm.  Marcille’s breath hitches when you take her fingers and fold them over the stone. “I trust you to come up with something.”  You beam at the elf, and she thinks that she might just have to take a chance in your skills.

Chilchuck

Not exactly open to it, not entirely critical about it either…

…But you will get a bit of a look whenever you do it.

He might be more the kind to make sure you aren’t outright doing it at stupid moments.  You better not get any ideas looking at those statues!

Sometimes you’ll be about to hold the stone up to your mouth, and right when your tongue is about to touch it, you’ll hear Chilchuck sigh a “don’t.”

Honestly this guy is treating you like a dog with something it shouldn’t have in its mouth.  Don’t worry, worrying and fretting is how he shows his love.

Even if he doesn’t like admitting to it…

If you try to explain how licking things helps in your study, Chil is inclined to raise his eyebrow and say that your field must be full of weirdos.

Then again, he’s the one who likes you so maybe he shouldn’t be too harsh…

He’s willing to let you do what you need to do but that doesn’t mean you’re free from his scathing commentary.

Crouched down, you analyse some rock in front of you.  It stands out a fair bit from most of the other geodes down here.  What could it be…? You lean in, your tongue grazing the stone slightly, and you lick.  The tip of your tongue familiarises itself with the taste.  Maybe metamorphic…? “Are you serious?”  You freeze at the sound of Chilchuck’s boyish voice.  On your hands and knees licking rocks isn’t exactly the ideal position to be judged in, even as you turn to look at the half-foot, arms crossed.  “Senshi is in the middle of cooking, no need to resort to eating rocks.” You roll your eyes.  You’re used to how Chilchuck treats your study at this point.  “I was just curious.” Chilchuck scoffs, walking up to pull you by the back of your collar up onto your feet again, which you do with some coercion.  “Yeah sure,” he says, “just wanna confirm you haven’t completely lost your marbles yet.” You look up at him, and squint.  Holding back a laugh, you mutter, “was that…?” “No, it wasn’t a dad joke,”  Chilchuck sighs, leaving you to your devices again.  “Just don’t do anything stupid when no one’s watching.” He hopes even as you giggle and confirm, you won’t notice the bright blush blooming on Chilchuck’s cheeks and tips of his ears.  How embarrassing…

Senshi

Also winning the dgaf war I fear.

He’d watch you lick some of the rocks you had picked out from your travels while resting.

It comes as no surprise that it then crosses his mind if the flavour changes when cooked, which he asks if he can do with some of your selection.

You can use your imagination on how Marcille and Chilchuck reacted when told that today’s dinner is … just rocks.

(Laios is disappointed that it isn’t any cool monster rocks.)

One delightful montage later, and ‘tis finished!  Since they are for your research, Senshi insists you have the first bite.

Crunch… and oh, such unique flavours!

You gush to Senshi about how this is a major breakthrough in how different minerals react to cooking conditions, and he gives you his observations too.

Honestly, just sort of wholesome bonding!

“Aye, this one cooked easily, while this one took plenty more time.” You nod eagerly as you watch Senshi point to two different stones.  “That’s because one is an igneous rock, which is magmatic.  The other is a sedimentary rock, which carries different minerals from lakes and oceans.  Separation in cooking must have resulted in different reactions!  I wonder how different metamorphic rocks would react…” As you mumble to yourself, Senshi happily continues his meal-making, occasionally responding back to you with hums and comments about what else each observed in his experimentation. Even when you had finished up your meal entirely, you thanked Senshi with the widest grin on your face.  He couldn’t help but be just a little flattered when you go on to joke that you should bring him home with you so he can help with your research. In return, Senshi listens to you, and hangs on your every word as you explain your findings to him.  Even if not too nutritious of a meal, the minerals from the rocks provide some calcium and other such buffs! And well…  If he can keep that happiness prolonged with his cooking, then he’s doing a very good job providing for you indeed!

Izutsumi

“Why are you eating rocks?  Looks gross.”

Make way for the #1 hater…

Izutsumi refuses to listen to any such rationalities you make about your study or why you lick rocks (even though she’s the one who asked), she’s still finding it icky and weird.

You’d have to fight fire with fire when it comes to her, you’ll question why she does some habits she does in return – such as licking her hand.

She’ll look at you like you’re stupid, before telling you that it’s a way for her to clean herself and notice if there’s anything caught in her fur.

“Ah, so like how I would lick rocks to identify anything embedded in them too!”

…How dare you try to rationalise yourself with her own logic, heathen.

Jail for reader.  Jail for 1000 years.

She’s not one to so readily accept other people’s weird quirks, but eventually she has to find that she’ll look stupid if she doesn’t…  It’s a bit of a dirty scheme, but it works.

“Come on, Izu, just give it a try!  I promise it just tastes like water.” “What kinda water?!”  She shoots back. You pause.  “W…Water?” This is how the argument between whether or not water has a flavour comes to be.  Izutsumi insists that some water tastes icky while others taste nice.  You have to explain that this pure water simply doesn’t have a taste.  She doesn’t believe you. In fact, Izutsumi makes you give the sedimentary stone another taste before affirming, it just tastes like water.  She’s about to grab your shoulders and shake you.  What kind of water?! It takes plenty of encouragement and an immediate failsafe orange juice Senshi squeezed out for her to ‘get rid of’ the taste when you get Izutsumi to taste the stone. She still hasn’t forgiven you… 

[ravings-of-a-mad-scientist]

Workaholics Anonymous 

Science Major: Man, I sure wish I had time to enjoy college but I have so much studying and homework to do. At least I'll get an easy high paying job after, right?

Physicist: I think I have a pretty good work life balance (does not, actually) and I think my grad students should have the same work life balance (which is not having that)

Astronomer: I work *about 40 hour weeks, but sometimes there are hours are in the middle of the night 'cause, y'know, stars. But who needs a consistent sleep schedule, really? Not me. I got Redbull.

Geologist: Sometimes I get to spend 15 hours a day wandering through the desert in severe weather conditions looking for cool rocks! also I have to like survey the land or whatever so I can get money

Chemist: Oh, you know, my PI only lets me see my family at night for dinner, then I have to come back and sleep in the lab, but overall I’d say I’m not too stressed.

Physician: Well, I had to work really hard, so why shouldn't everyone else have to work even harder? I'm sure the patients could only benefit from everyone being sleep deprived.

Biologist: I work so much I don’t even remember the last time I wasn’t working.

Science Major: huh?

Biologist: I MUST OBSERVE THE CRAB AT ALL TIMES. I OBSERVE THE CRAB EVEN AS WE SPEAK. IF I DO NOT PUBLISH 60 PAPERS ON CRAB BEHAVIOR BY NEXT YEAR MY COLLEAGUES WILL SENSE MY WEAKNESS AND DEVOUR ME ALIVE, LIKE A PACK OF STARVING CRABS

Computer Scientist: Um… I work from home for at most 8 hours a day then play video games

Biologist: *licks lips*

Computer Scientist (Game Dev): I would murder you if I wasn't so... oh there I go- *passes out from exhaustion (hasn't slept or touched grass in five years)*

[slutforleeminho]

“first”- hyunjin

hyunjin was your first in everything. your first best friend. your first kiss - kindergarten, when you had icing on your lips and he decided he wanted to lick it off. your first fiancé - first grade, he even made a ring out of pink yarn and a white bead for the diamond. you still have that ring. and even though all these things sound like silly little childhood memories, after some time of mutual pining, denial, and a whole lot of “he’s just my best friend, nothing more.” senior year of high school hyunjin became your first boyfriend.

the day it happened you thought that that was the best day of your life. he had given you a single white rose because, and in your words, “a whole bouquet is way too flashy. it just screams ‘hey everyone! look at these flowers that the love of my life gave me!’” you had been talking about one of your class mates but hyunjin couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat from your choice of words.

he had remembered what you said, which only made you fall in love with him so much more.

he took you to the beach where he laid out a blanket for you both to lay on. you both watched the sun set, then he asked you to be his, and of course you said yes. he smiled the biggest you had ever seen him smile and then he kissed you. your first real kiss. you spent the whole summer together, going on dates and just soaking up each others presence. you both left for college in the fall, but the universe couldn’t separate you two so easily. the couple made sure to go to the same one and experience it all together.

your one year anniversary was coming up. you were just as much nervous as you were excited. you had planned a whole day of things you wanted to do with him, but you were quickly shut down by hyunjin. he said he wanted to plan everything and surprise you. you were sad that you couldn’t help, but you were also deeply touched by his eagerness to make you happy. the past couple days he’s been locked away in his dorm room. you were beginning to worry, but he quickly reassured you that he wasn’t trying to distance himself, he was just getting things together for that special day.

and my god did he outdo himself.

he took you to a big fancy restaurant, you couldn’t even pronounce the name of it. there was even a space for dancing, so of course what did hyunjin do? he held his and out. “may i have this dance?”

you placed your hand in his and let him lead you to where a handful of other people were swaying to the soft melody that the pianist was creating. “i don’t even know how to dance.” you giggled against his neck as you placed your hands on his shoulders.

“it’s not rocket science. just copy what everyone else is doing.” he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. you scanned your eyes around the room, studying the moves of the other couples around you. after getting a general idea of what you’re supposed to be doing, you started swaying back and forth along with him. you laced your hands together behind his head, leaning closer to him. chest to chest, you could feel his heart beating. if you didn’t know any better you’d say it matched the rhythm of yours.

“lay your head on my shoulder.” you did as he said and placed your head on his shoulder. usually you could only reach his chest, the height difference between you both was crazy but the heels you were wearing helped a lot.

he littered kisses all over your neck and shoulder and then buried his face in the crook of your neck. he breathed in you scent, taking in everything about this moment. you wanted it to last forever. but you had this feeling in your gut. like a mixture of butterflies and want. you wanted to be closer to him and pour out all of your love for him. you’ve never felt this way before but you had a feeling you knew what it meant. you were ready to fully give yourself too him. to open up to him and show him every last part of you.

“hyun?” you stopped swaying and lifted your head to look at him when you said these next words. he pulled back also but he had a look of confusion on his face. “what is it, love?” he voiced out his concern for you.

“i want to go home.” home being the hotel room he reserved for you both so you could be together without being bothered by your roommates back at the dorms. you got dressed there so all yours and hyunjins stuff was already there.

“is everything okay? do you not feel well?” he placed the back of his hand on your forehead and then your cheek, checking to see if you had a fever. his actions made you laugh. you took his hands in yours, never breaking eye contact.

“no. trust me i feel fine.” you smiled up at him.

“then.. what’s the matter?”

you hesitated for a moment then finally voiced your want. “i want you to make love to me, hyunjin.”

his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. you giggled once more. he cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other. “are you sure, y/n?”

“i don’t think i’ve been this sure of something in my life.” you started to feel nervous until he pulled you into a kiss. his palms found the sides of your neck, his thumbs resting on your jaw. the kiss was slow and passionate but still you wanted more. you pushed against his torso, separating your lips from his. “let’s take this somewhere else hmm?”

he held your hand the whole way back to the hotel, squeezing every now and then to reassure you. he didn’t let go until you were both in the room. he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders then drug his fingers down the back of your arms. goosebumps erupted all over your skin at his gentle touch. he was always this gentle with you. he never made you feel uncomfortable or pressured into anything. you loved that about him the most.

“it’s not to late to change your mind. we can watch a movie and cuddle.” he looked at you with so much love in his eyes.

“it’s starting to sound like you’re the one having second thoughts.” you teased, but you could tell he wanted this just as much as you did.

“no, no i want to. i really do but i don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“i don’t.” was all you said. that’s all you had to say for hyunjin to push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders, and push your dress down your body. his eyes trailed behind, admiring every part of you that was exposed. the dress him the floor and you were only left in a white lingerie set. his eyes grew wide and averted his gaze. it amazed you how respectful he was even in a situation like this. “hyunjin,” you took your index finger under his chin and made him look at you. “you can look at me. i want you to look at me.”

he nodded and dropped his eyes to your cleavage, and then your torso and thighs. “can i touch you?” he asked, to hypnotized by your hips to make eye contact.

“please.” as soon as you permitted him he put his hands on either side of your waist and rubbed little circles with his thumb. you hummed in contentment which only encouraged him to continue. he pulled you flush against his chest, like he was giving you a hug. until he played with the clasp of your bra.

“may i?”

“yes” you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder just like you did earlier while dancing. except this time you heard the snap of your bra being undone. but he didn’t move after. he didn’t try to step away and finish taking it off you. instead he held you closer and ran his hands up and down your back. you stayed like that for a few minutes. but you were the first one to pull away. the strap dropped off your shoulders and tumbled down your arms, falling onto the floor along with your dress.

he took a step back presumably to get a better look. he was silent for far too long, it made you anxious and you started fidgeting with one of the rings on your fingers. “you’re so beautiful,” he finally spoke, pulling you out of your head and easing your nerves. “so perfect.” it was only at that moment that you realized that he was still fully clothed, while you were almost completely naked before him. you pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders and let gravity do the rest. you laid your palms flat and let them explore his chest. he was firm but still soft to the touch.

you fiddled with the first button of his shirt before fully unbuttoning it, followed by the rest of them. once they we all done and his chest and abdomen was on full display he took the liberty of taking it the rest of the way off. your hands explored every patch of skin they could. you traced out his abs with your fingers. “that tickles.” he giggled, making his stomach tense which only made them more defined and ten times more attractive.

“sorry.” you smiled up at him. the way the moment could go from intense to sweet made your insides flutter. you needed him. now. and like he read your mind, he led you to the bed and you sat on the end of it. he suddenly dropped to his knees, the action startled you a little. but then he grabbed one of your ankles and unbuckled the heel that you honestly forgotten you still had on. he repeated his actions on the other but this time when he slipped the shoe off he left a soft kiss on your ankle and then your calf. he continued up your leg until he got to your mid thigh. you laid back on your back and spread your legs a little wider, silently giving him permission to continue.

he hooked his fingers under the band of your underwear and slipped them down your legs. you threw your head back as he kissed the insides of your thighs, enjoying the feeling. your whole body jolted when he placed two fingers on your clit and rubbed slow circles on it. before you could catch it a small moan escaped you lips. it was so different having someone else touch you like this, just so intimate.

his fingers explored your fold and eventually pressed against your entrance. “do you think you’re ready to take my fingers?” his question made your head spin. you never thought you’d hear him ask a question like that. your sweet innocent hyunjin was asking if he could stuff his fingers inside you.

“yes.” your breathing was heavy. he put his hand on your thigh and lightly massaged.

“just breathe, okay? relax and tell me if you want to stop.” you nodded and he kissed you, it was more sloppy this time but you still melted into it. while you were distracted by his lips, he pushed a finger in. you gasped against him and he held you tighter. “it’s okay, love. you got it. just relax and it won’t hurt as bad.” it didn’t necessarily hurt it was just different. it stung a bit but it was nothing that you couldn’t handle. he didn’t move until you told him to. he moved slowly, in and out, just letting you get used the the feeling of something being inside you. which you did, and quickly too. the discomfort turned into pleasure and it felt unworldly. he noticed your little whimpers and added another finger, but this time the stretch felt amazing. you were begging him for more only a few moments later.

after your pleading couldn’t be ignored he slipped his fingers out. you missed them as soon as they were gone but you knew something better was to come. he stood and unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants off along with his boxers. your eyes immediately shot down to his member, it was so perfect. it was long but not too long and thick. the tip was red and swollen. you didn’t know you were causing such an effect on him. he noticed your staring. “everything okay?” he said, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“yeah. i-it’s pretty.” you instantly regretted your words, mentally face palming yourself. why would you call it pretty?

“thank you?” he didn’t know exactly how to respond to that but he just laughed it off and climbed onto the bed with you. he situated you against the pillows, making sure you were comfortable. he pecked your lips with his own and then opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off before the question could pass through his lips. “don’t ask. i’m sure, hyunjin. i want to continue.” he smiled at the fact you knew him so well.

“just making sure,” he aligned himself up with your entrance. “ready?”

“yeah.” you nodded.

“okay. can you you take a deep breath for me?” his question caught you off guard but you trusted him enough to comply. “good job. now exhale.” as you pushed the air out of your lungs he pushed the tip of his cock past your entrance but stopped there. a broken moan escaped past your lips. the combination of pain and pleasure was making you weak. he slowly pushed the rest of himself inside you and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. he was breathing heavily, you realized then just how much he was holding back. having to stay completely still while being so deep inside of you must’ve been torture. once you felt comfortable, you urged him to continue.

his hips pulled back, the drag of his tip against your walls felt like heaven. when only his tip was left inside you, he pushed his way back into the warmth of you. when he was nuzzled back inside of you, he moaned against your shoulder. that small sign that he was enjoying himself had you unconsciously clenching around him. more moans fell from both of you as the pace was set to a slow but steady speed.

you took in every detail of him from this angle. the way his face was scrunched up in pleasure, eyebrows knitted together and his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. the thin layer of sweat that coated his face and neck. his glossy eyes met yours and a throaty whine escaped him. “i’m close, baby.” his thrusts became faster in attempt to get you to reach your climax before he did. “i can feel that you are too.”

your heart swelled with so much love for him that you couldn’t contain it anymore. your vision clouded and you realized you were crying when a warm tear rolled down your cheek. but it wasn’t long until a hand wiped it away and replaced it with his lips. “it’s okay, love. i’m here.” he continued to decorate your jaw and neck with his sweet kisses. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nails dug into his back as your orgasm consumed you. the waves of pleasure were much more intense than you have ever experienced before. maybe it was because the one you loved the most was the one to give it to you.

seeing you like this, so vulnerable, pushed hyunjin over the edge, singing your name as he came undone above you. his hips slowed but they didn’t stop until he knew you were completely satisfied, not even when overstimulation started to hit him. he only stopped when you tensed against him and lightly pushed against his chest. he ceased all movements and went completely limp on top of you. all that could be heard over the ringing in your ears was both yours and hyunjins heavy breathing.

“i love you so much.” his voice was scratchy and hoarse. he held you tightly until he regained his strength and pulled himself off of you. “oh baby,” he looked down at you in pity. you were confused for a moment until you looked down to see yours and hyunjins lower half coated in a thin layer of a mixture of you essence and blood. “you’re bleeding.” he looked around with an almost panicked look on his face. he gave up on what he was looking for and stood up from the bed, coming around to the side where you were closer to the edge. he tucked one arm under your upper back and one arm under your legs, lifting you off the bed bridal style. you clung to his shoulders in fear he would drop you. but you soon melted into his arms as he carried you to the bathroom. “you think you can stand?”

“there’s only one way to find out.” he lowered your feet to the cold floor, you were wobbly at first but you were sturdy enough to stand on your own. he rushed to turn the shower on so it could warm up and returned to your side to place a kiss on your temple. the sweet gesture made you smile and wrap your arms around him in a warm embrace.

after you both got cleaned up and put some clean clothes on he carried you back to the bed and wrapped you in the blanket like a burrito. “hyunjin i can’t move!” you managed to say through your fit of giggles.

“that’s the point. this way you can never leave me.”

“like i would even try, you dummy.”

“oh my gosh i almost forgot!” he shot up from the bed and ran out of the room. while he was gone you managed to untangle yourself from the confines of the blankets and followed after him. as you were were exciting the room, he was running at full speed into the room. luckily he stopped before he completely ran you over.

“why are you in such a rush?” you laughed at his eagerness to to come back to the room.

“because i got you something,” his right hand was hiding said “something” behind his back. “i meant to give it to you at the restaurant after we danced but uh… you had other plans.” he smirked. was he making fun of you right now? you smacked his arm which made him burst out in laughter, slapping his left hand over his chest. “i’m sorry! you were just so cute, i couldn’t help it.”

“ok ok whatever,” you rolled you eyes at his words. “so?” you glanced down at his arm still tucked safely behind his back.

“oh yeah!” he held his hand out, revealing a single white rose.

thousands of memories of you and hyunjin throughout the years flashed through your mind like a slideshow. some bad some good. but every single memory had one thing in common, hyunjins unconditional love for you. he was always doing anything and everything to make sure you were happy. going out of his way just to make make your day a little better. he was always there for you when you were at you lowest and always the first person to cheer you on when you achieved something. he was the light and the end of a very dark tunnel. he was everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

“hyunjin i-” you were at a loss for words. he giggled at your speechless state, only making you smile. you took the rose from his hand to feel the softness of the petals and to smell the sweet scent of it. “thank you, hyunjin.”

he trapped you in a bear hug, squeezing you so tight that it was hard to breathe, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“you’re welcome, beautiful”

as always like, follow, and reblog if you enjoyed:)

@fawnpeaks @yumiblogs

[hitlikehammers]

to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)

rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)

this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️

“Oh fuck, not you, too.”

Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—

“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.

“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“

“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and��hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—

He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.

That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.

But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.

He swallows anyway; not that it helps.

“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—

“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”

Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.

But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.

“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.

“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.

“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:

Not you.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.

Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.

“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:

“That you’re here, too.”

And, oh. Okay.

Okay.

They’re here, then. Together.

Here.

___________________

It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.

They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.

For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.

He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?

Who’s gonna fucking know?

Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.

He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.

He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.

He craves this.

He doesn’t know what that fucking means.

But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.

And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.

But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…

Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:

That’s not death.

___________________

Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—

Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.

Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.

He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.

Doesn’t change his question.

Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”

Steve gapes a little.

“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck

“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.

Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:

“Pick your poison.”

And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…

“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:

“Go Fish?”

And Steve, he, like—

This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.

He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…

In a while.

___________________

“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.

“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.

They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.

“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:

“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:

“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.

They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.

“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“

“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.

“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—

Steve likes how they fit.

“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”

Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.

___________________

“You’re really good company.”

Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.

“What?”

Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.

“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”

Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.

“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”

And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:

“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:

“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.

And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:

“Me too, sweetheart.”

And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—

___________________

Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.

He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…

It’s not just his smile.

“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.

“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.

“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—

“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?

Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…

That feels more

___________________

It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.

“You called me big boy.”

Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.

His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.

Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—

“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.

“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—

“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—

“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.

“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—

“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.

Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.

But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.

“You’re not stupid, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.

“I’m very stupid.”

And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?

And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.

“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:

“About, you know, matters of the heart.”

Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:

“Heart?”

But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:

He thinks he can hear the hope.

“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.

“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—

“And kiss me, you dick.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—

“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.

“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”

Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.

“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?

Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?

Fuck. Fuck.

If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.

___________________

He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.

The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.

Steve fucking hates it.

“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.

He cannot fucking accept that.

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—

“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—

“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Maybe we’ll wake up.”

Maybe. Maybe.

“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:

“Kiss me again when we wake up.”

And Steve will, he will, but.

He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.

He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.

So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…

Whatever happens will take them both.

___________________

Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—

“Eddie!”

He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—

And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.

Covers his hands. Presses.

And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—

“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—

There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.

“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:

“That the only reason?”

He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—

Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—

Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:

“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead

in-love, in-love, in-love—

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

♥️

divider credit here

[ninzied]

and patience, and pining

in which alex is determined to flirt so hard that henry can no longer resist him. a modern au. based on the prompt: surprise kiss/impulsive kiss. ~1.8k.

Between the two of them, Alex has always thought he’d be the one to cave first.

They’ve both arrived at the same time. Henry looks stupid-good in his well-fitted tuxedo. His hair is just over-styled enough that Alex wants to mess it up, and badly.

How one man can be so like this is frankly upsetting. No, scratch that; it’s illegal, is what it is. Criminal law is not Alex’s domain, but he’s pretty sure being this tempting in public is a certifiable offense.

“Alex,” says Henry, and he blinks, at least some sense returning to him.

“Right,” he says. “Shall we?”

Henry gives him a look like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, which, the reception is not even open bar, so Alex can’t say he disagrees.

“After you, Your Majesty,” he says, stepping from the door with a flourish, then, “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” asks Henry, already shouldering past him with his chin turned up.

“If I had a dollar for every time you rolled your eyes at me—”

“Good taste still can’t be bought, Alex.”

“That’s ironic,” Alex shoots back, smiling and nodding at one of the guests as they enter. “Considering my tie is way better than yours.”

Henry lifts his hand at another in greeting, and even his wave looks fucking majestic, the asshole. “I trust you’ll be at least somewhat behaved this evening?”

“You sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?”

Henry’s expression turns very dour, and Alex wonders, not for the first time, why that particular look on him makes Alex so crazy. The more severe Henry gets, the wilder Alex’s impulse to kiss him, and the urge to just give in.

Alex licks his lips.

Henry takes a cautionary step back. “Let’s do try to make it through the rest of the night without much carnage, yes?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muses. “When you threaten me with a good time like that…”

Henry mutters something under his breath and Alex can’t help but grin. Maybe the night holds some promise after all.

.

He decides he’s going to have to walk that back after a while.

The music is decent, and he was wrong about the open bar, thank God, but he’s barely seen Henry since some crusty-looking Wall Street types whisked him and Pez away to talk business, and Alex is bored.

He wants to dance. He wants to dance—with Henry. And because that’s not going to happen, Alex wants to do the next best thing, which is to dance while Henry pretends not to watch, but he’s not even facing the dance floor right now so there would be no fucking point. He’ll have to think of something else. Hmmm.

Nora shimmies up to him then with two new flutes of champagne. Bless. “Still pining?” she asks.

Alex whips around to glare at her, wounded. “What? Nora, no,” he says. Is it that obvious? Fuck.

Nora shrugs. “You do the thing where you look him when you think he won’t notice. Both of you. You guys kind of have it down to a science.”

Alex brightens immediately. “You’ve seen him looking at me?”

Nora sips her champagne. “Right now, for example.”

Henry looks quickly away when Alex glances over, which is as good an invitation as any in his book. One of the suits is talking at Henry, who seems about as engaged as a teapot right now. Pez has dialed up the charisma, distracting them easily from Henry’s silence. But to Alex, Henry looks downright miserable in comparison.

Well, Alex is here to do something about that.

He plucks the second flute from Nora’s hand. “You’re the best. Gotta go.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t pining?”

“For that guy?” Alex gazes at Henry again, then says, quite honestly, “Always.”

.

It takes exactly two minutes for the Wall Street guys to politely excuse themselves. Alex watches them practically dissolve their way into the crowd, like a creepy bunch of Mr. Smiths from The Matrix, and he suppresses a shudder.

The look on Henry’s face is an appealing combination of annoyed and relieved. “Let me guess,” Alex deadpans, “you’re so grateful you could just kiss me right now.”

Henry’s expression turns distinctly disapproving as Pez chimes in, “Be patient and Hazza might even learn to admit it someday.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Alex grins sideways at Henry, who’s flushing the loveliest pink despite also frowning. “You’re welcome for rescuing you from the most tedious conversation known to man, by the way.”

“Actually, darling dearest,” Pez says lightly, “we were speaking with potential investors in the foundation.”

Oh. Shit. “Do you want me to charm them back over?” Alex wants to know, jerking a thumb in the direction they’d gone. “It is well within my power.”

“Not necessary.” Henry pulls a face. “I would’ve felt dirty about taking their money.”

“I would’ve felt wonderfully about it,” says Pez. “But now that you’ve freed up my dance card…” He cranes his neck around.

“Nora’s over there,” Alex says helpfully.

“Brilliant.” Pez’s eyes are the definition of sparkling. “Ah, and I see your sister’s about to join her. If you boys will excuse me—”

He helps himself to the rest of Alex’s champagne before sashaying off.

The two of them remain standing there a careful few feet apart, not looking at each other. Not that it matters; Alex is so hyperaware of him that he could reach over without even looking and take Henry’s hand if he wanted to. He won’t, but he wants to.

Knowing that he can is enough for now.

Henry looks askance at him after a moment. “You’re making this very hard, you know.”

Alex somehow manages not to smile at that. “Am I?”

Henry’s face screws up in faux concentration. “Let’s see. You’ve been a merciless flirt, even more so than usual. You wore the tie I bought you, which means you don’t hate it—”

“What? I love it,” interrupts Alex, just to be clear.

“—and you just drove off a very lucrative, albeit morally questionable, investment opportunity.” Henry’s also holding back a smile. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to not kiss you for that alone.”

“You still could,” Alex points out.

“And lose your silly bet?” Henry straightens, adjusting his cufflinks, and that might be the single hottest thing Alex has ever seen. “I think not. We both know you’ll be the first to give in.”

It’s true, Alex thinks; he’s pretty irresistible, but Henry is also far more controlled. Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that Alex gets to be the one who stretches him to his very limit. The level of restraint it takes Henry to resist him is a pretty big turn-on, if he’s being honest. Even when Henry wins, it will be no great loss on Alex’s part.

“Considering what’s at stake here,” Alex says lowly, leaning in just enough to catch the way Henry’s eyes darken, “I think I win either way.”

Henry does smile then, soft and warm and way too tempting not to kiss, though Alex perseveres. “I think we both do, darling.”

“That we can agree on,” says Alex. “So, do you want to…not…dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

.

He slips up, once.

It’s in a goddamn photo booth of all things, and Alex would feel like such a cliché if he weren’t so busy feeling annoyed at the fact that he can’t hold Henry’s hand or kiss him in front of the camera. Instead, he lets Nora and June wedge in between them, grinning gamely when they take turns kissing Henry on the cheek.

At the literal last second before the flash is going off, Alex feels Henry take his hand from behind, lace their fingers ever so gently together, and squeeze.

In the photo that prints out, June and Nora are doubled over in laughter, eyes closed, unaware. Henry has his chin tipped up, his face doing some smoldery thing at the camera, and Alex is turned, simply gazing at him.

He takes it before anyone sees, tucking it safely into his wallet because bet or no bet, some things really are too sacred to share.

When he shows it to Henry later, Henry gets the same lovestruck look on his face as Alex does in the photo, and that’s all he needs.

.

It’s the cake that finally does it.

Pez, Nora and June are all crowded around the same piece, and it makes Alex sigh a little wistfully to think about how much better it would taste if he were sharing his with Henry.

He can’t help it. He peers at Henry’s own slice, squinting. “What flavor is that one?”

“Strawberry,” says Henry. There’s a crumb on his lip, and Alex doesn’t mean to fixate on it, but he’s now gone hours without kissing his boyfriend and he’s kind of mad about it even though it’s also kind of his fault. “Do you want a bite?”

Oh. Yeah, that’ll work. Alex can feel the others’ eyes on them as he leans closer, fully expecting that Henry will yield to his instincts and feed him a piece off his fork. It’s not a kiss, but it could definitely qualify as losing the bet. And then once Alex has won, he can not only kiss Henry as much as he likes, he gets to take Henry home with him and—well.

He frowns when Henry only holds the plate out. “Here, have some,” says Henry, gaze lifting to his, then just a bit lower. “Oh. Hang on, you’ve got a—”

In a move that’s beyond Alex’s wildest dreams, Henry cups his jaw and kisses the side of his mouth, with just the slightest bit of tongue.

Alex grins as Henry freezes against him, realizing his mistake too late. “Thanks, baby.”

“Bollocks,” says Henry. He pulls back and sighs, licking the rest of the buttercream from his lips. “I’ve lost, haven’t I.” Then, accusingly, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”

“I’d say I don’t kiss and tell, but.” Alex puts his hands on Henry’s thighs, using that grip to scoot their chairs closer together. “I am gonna kiss you now, so.”

“You’ll be getting to do a lot more than that,” Henry points out.

“Ew, did not need to hear that part,” June groans at the same time that Pez puts down their cake and says, “Please, I need to hear more.”

“There’s a legally binding document and everything,” says Alex, to Henry’s chagrin and Pez’s delight. “Drafted it up myself.”

“You two were pining that hard and you were already together?” Nora wants to know. “Actually, that tracks. Carry on.”

Henry has gone as pink as the cake now, but he’s smiling when Alex swipes up some more buttercream, touching it to Henry’s mouth before leaning the rest of the way in.

[pandoraslxna]

❄️ Kinkmas — 07. Under the table ❄️

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

⋆｡° ✮ Minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinkmas Masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: size difference, praise, oral (m receiving), cockwarming (literally lol), semi-public, dom/sub, authority kink

The goddamn heater broke again.

Pandora’s winter are almost as cruel as the humid summers are. Unfortunately it’s easier to keep yourself cool than keep yourself warm, and that’s mostly because these science pukes, or whoever is responsible for this, haven’t thought about making sweaters for a bunch of ten feet tall humanoid cats that linger all around bridgehead city yet.

The air feels crisp and chilly in the cities hq, and team deja blue has never felt more blue than these past couple of days. The more the temperature drops, the more it leaves a noticeable chill in the atmosphere. Employees, soldiers and scientists, bundle up in extra layers of clothing to keep warm, and their breaths form small clouds as they speak. Fingers become numb as they tab away on data pads, and the sound of shivering can be heard intermittently.

It’s not just cold, it’s fucking freezing, to the point people are giving Quaritch looks as they walk past the glass door of his office.

"With all respect, sir, but aren’t you cold?", is what some of them had asked him. But the answer is always no. No, he is not cold. Quite the opposite, actually.

Because what they can’t see, is the pretty little thing kneeling between his thighs under his desk and keeping him warm. They can’t feel the way it feels to have those wonderful lips wrapped around his cock. The warmth that spreads through him as you suck and slurp around his length, the little gags that make him feel hot all over when his fat tip grazes the back of your throat. You’re tight like a sleeve and it’s a struggle to get him all the way in, but you hold so perfectly still and try to be so obediently quiet whenever someone enters the office of the head of security. It feels heavenly, knowing how much you’re trying to be good for the Colonel. Strokes his ego like someone would a cat as it lays in front of a cozy fireplace.

"Good girl", Quaritch muses quietly, watching an oblivious Wainfleet leave through the door, before his gaze drops down below to where you kneel. "Look at you, doing such a good job keeping me warm. Feels fuckin‘ amazing, doll."

His hand moves from where it laid on his desk to the top of your head, giving you a gentle little push that draws tears into your eyes as you struggle to take him in further. You moan around his length and Quaritch grins dangerously, "Yeah, you like that don’t you? Like having your tight little mouth full of me, huh?"

Rubbing your tongue against the underside of his shaft, you make a humming sound of agreement and the vibration of it sends a shiver up his spine. Slowly, you continue to move your head up and down his length, licking and sucking at an increasing pace that enticed a few low groans from him. But Quaritch was quick to stop you with a fistful of your hair.

"Ah, ah, doll face. Not so fast", he chuckles, releasing your hair and patting the top of your head. You make a frustrated little noise at the back of your throat, drool running down his balls before you can swallow it down around him. "You don’t want to end this so early, don’t you? Keep me warm a little while longer and I’ll make sure to reward you properly, how’s that sound, hm?"

For the first time in hours, Quaritch doesn’t stop you when you pull off of him with a gasp for air. He just looks at you with his head cocked to the side and a sharp grin on his face as you nod and tell him, "yes, sir", before diving down again.

[hotsingledragon]

one and only

recom miles quaritch x fem!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI

miles quaritch can’t help himself, he’s always had an eye for the quiet, nervous beauties; the ones with big innocent eyes that are easy to blush and shy away from everyone’s gaze.

but you can’t hide from him, oh no, you’re just the prettiest little thing he’s ever met with your sweet smile and light, syrupy voice. quaritch will make it his mission to take you and claim you in the best ways, the ways you deserved. there’s no way in hell he’s letting one of those military chumps or science pukes fuck up and taint you. because it has to be him. because he knows how to take care of sweet girls like you.

so on the occasion when quaritch catches some low-life recruits ogling you and whispering like teenagers, he steps in their line of sight, nearly snarling with how hard he’s grimacing at them; a thorough warning to back the fuck off.

and quaritch would start going out of his way, finding time to cross your path to rasp “good afternoon,” in your direction while dropping a wink at you, just to see the way your face flushed and how you tried to suppress a smile.

-miles is a gentleman, inviting you to sit with him for meals in the mess hall, wrapping you in long conversations in the recreation room. when you’re close enough he’s leaning into your space and looking at you with these bright wild eyes that never seem to tear away from you, making your cheeks burn under such a hot gaze.

you can’t help but feel giddy and flustered as this brooding yet handsome man has approached you like you’ve never experienced before.

-the first time you kiss, miles asks politely, waiting for your confirmation before crashing down on you to slot his lips against yours. it starts innocent enough, a slow, warm press of lips until he’s pushing into you and kissing you harder. it steals your breath, miles steals your breath.

“i don’t think ya’ know how much i want ya’, darlin’, feel like i’m goin fuckin’ crazy” he would breathe into your ear, his hand sliding above your knee and squeezing your thigh. “wanna do so many filthy things with ya’.” and he would absolutely thrive when your cheeks flushed even deeper.

-and he loves to embarrass you, loves the way you get all shy when he says something or leaves teasing touches over your skin.

-“you’re so shy, little one”

-“oh you sweet little thing, you’re adorable.”

-and yes miles wants to do filthy things with you, but he also respects your initial boundaries. so y’all start slow; you spend your first few times together in his lap, letting him kiss you fervently. and quaritch is a good fucking kisser okay; he will lick into your mouth, tongue running over your teeth or sucking on your own tongue. he knows just what to do to get your mouth pushing against his own, your body arching into him until you’re asking for more.

-and while he tries his hardest to be patient, miles is handsy with you, always groping at your flesh. even fully clothed, he’ll take handfuls of your chest, will run his thumbs over your nipples until they peak. let’s his fingers tease under the waist of your shorts and press into pliable muscle. miles will grab your bum, pushing your center against the bulge in his pants.

-deffff loves inexperienced blowjobs, loves how sweet you look with your big shiny eyes looking at him, your cheeks stuffed with his cock. loves to talk you through the first few times, telling you what feels good.

-“suck on the tip, yeahhh good fuckin’ girl,”

-“you’re learnin’ so quickly, darlin, such a smart an’ pretty girl,”

-“you’re a natural honey, makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good,”

-eeeeep the first time miles touches you!!! he’d make you sit in the pillows, and he’d sit at your side but he’s quickly covering your body with his own. he kisses you long and filthy until he’s got you whimpering into his mouth and he can smell the slick between your thighs.

he slows to kiss you chastely, only pulling inches away from you to whisper “open them pretty legs for me, baby.” he’d run a hand over your knee and let it smooth over your inner thigh, encouraging you to rest your weight over his hip.

from this position he can see every bit of you from your scrunched brows to your shaking knees. he watches you so intently as your muscles tense or when you gasp quietly, gauging your every reaction to his touch. he’s only rubbing you over your panties, finger pads damp from working over the wet patch that soaks the cotton.

“s’get these outta the way, hm?” he rumbles, only having the patience to hook his finger and push your panties to the side. now two of his thick fingers are on your raw pussy, repeatedly dragging from your hot entrance to your puffy clit.

“that’s a good girl, don’t that feel good?”

-and from the moment you tell him you’re ready to take his cock inside of you, every single one of his nerve endings feels as if they’re sparking like live wire.

so now you’re folded in half, got your knees to your chest and three of his fingers easing into your wet hole. all you can do is whine, your face hot with lust and frustrated tears.

“m-miles, please,” you whimper, giving him those big, watery, desperate eyes and how can he refuse you?

“think you’re ready for my cock, little one?” he grins, still pushing his fingers inside of you just to hear the messy squelch of your slick. and quaritch is so fucking hard as he watches you, his cock heavy and leaking against his thigh. he growls when your hips twitch upwards to take more of his fingers, sweet little sounds falling from your swollen mouth.

“look at you, sweets. tryna fuck my hand,” miles would chuckle. “thought ya’ wanted more than that?” he teases, giving you one last thrust before he drags his fingers out of your tight hole. his long fingers are coated in your arousal and he groans at the sight.

“clean my fingers, baby. suck on ‘em just like you suck on my cock, alright?” and those fingers are tapping your cheek, beckoning your lips to part.

“that’s it,” he whispers, bright eyes lowered and locked on your plump mouth taking his fingers, swirling your tongue around them and doing your best to take all of their length. when his digits pop out of your mouth, he’s crowding against you, kissing you hard. “god, y’r such a good fuckin’ girl f’r me.”

miles will kiss you breathless and smooth his hands over your skin. he leans back on his knees, arranges the pillows under you, wants to watch every bit of you when you take his cock for the first time. you look so cute, honestly ethereal when you’re spread out for him like this; your hair fans like a halo, cheeks tinted with a mix of arousal and embarrassment, your lips plump and slick with spit.

and god, the way you’re fucking looking at him right now- with hazy eyes and a pout on your lips in a silent beg- he just has to pump his cock in his fist a few times, groaning when the action draws your attention to his member and your jaw slacks open.

miles looks down and holy fuck if it isn’t the most precious sight. your puffy folds compared to the size of his cock almost worries him, but he’ll go slow, will take as much time as needed to open you up and make this the most pleasurable experience for you.

so he takes his heavy cock into his hand, teases the tip up and down your slit, bumping your clit and occasionally dipping lightly into your entrance. miles will keep doing this until you’re squirming, whining miserably.

“all ya’ need to do is relax, alright, sugar? i’ll take care of the rest, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing,” he whispers, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

his lips quirk affectionately when you respond, visibly relaxing and eyes fluttering closed, ever the good listener. quaritch takes the opportunity to caress your thighs, lifting them to settle on either side of his waist.

and miles is feeling a bit affectionate for your first time together, lowering so he can kiss your collarbone, your cheeks and lips as he eases into you.

he tries to stay mindful of how he’s pushing into you, but fuck you’re just sucking him in and wiggling those hips and whining so sweetly, miles struggles to hold himself together.

and you can’t take all of his dick, not quite yet but it’s okay, he’s definitely going to work you to that point.

“stuffed full of me, ain’tcha baby?”

and eventually the slide gets easier, and miles is thrusting into you at a deep and steady pace, but too slow to bring any resolution to the building ache of your orgasm.

and he knows he’s being a little mean, but the way your whole body spasms is addicting to watch. you catch his sharp gaze and throw your arms over your eyes, unable to fathom miles looking at you with such want and ferocity.

he’s immediately guiding your arms away, “nuh uh, ain’t no hidin’ from me, wanna see my pretty girl,” he coos and he’s looking right into you, pupils blown and canines poking through his smile.

then he tucks his open palm under your knee, lifting your leg until it sits on his chest, and he’s impossibly fucking deeper into you.

something pleasurable twinges inside you, a pressure you’ve never felt that makes you jerk and yelp, fluttering tightly around his length.

“oh it’s right there, yeah?” miles would whisper sharply, gritting his teeth as he aims for your spongy insides until your moans are punctuated by each punch of his hips.

“miles!” you whine, your head pushing into the pillows as your body arches. your cries and begs are a sweetmelody to his ears, and miles can’t help but grin, a wicked quirk of his lips.

“ya’ gonna come, sweets? go on now, lemme see you.” he growls, arm flexing as he takes your ankle into his grasp, lifting your leg even higher. the position gives him leverage to thrust even deeper, his hips slapping harshly into your bum.

and that’s all it takes, a few more of his deep thrusts has you spasming, muscles strung tight with the beginning of your orgasm. you choke on an actual shriek, breath knocked out of you as miles keeps thrusting, dragging himself inside of you.

“fuck!,” miles grits, the feel of your hot velvety walls contracting viciously makes his hips stutter, but he keeps fucking you through your orgasm until you’re clawing at him, face red hot and bangs sticking to your dewy skin.

“jus’ a lil’ more, yeah sugar? keep squeezin’ on my cock,” and miles doesn’t stop, keeps up those thrusts that have your second orgasm pulling out of nowhere, causing you to jerk and yell in surprise. “oh!”

“shit-cummin-“miles groans, thrusting rabidly into you until he’s buried to the hilt, pumping hot cum against your cervix.

and then he’s nearly dead weight on top of you, lazily wrapping you in an embrace that a little stronger than he knows, but you don’t mind.

bonus:

-okay this might be crack but the aftercare goes crazy y’all, quaritch is very attentive and even a little sweet with you. kisses your skin until he works up to your lips, and then he’s climbing out of the sheets to grab a warm towel and a cup of water. sometimes he brings you a sweet if you ask him nicely.

-then he climbs back into bed, wrapping you against his chest. and of course he’s ego is inflated, he’s back to teasing you and describing quite graphically how you felt around him. he chuckles when you groan in irritation, slapping his chest.

-his nose brushes against your jaw, nuzzles into your neck. “love havin’ ya’ like this. all mine, aren’t ya baby?” and miles knows that you are, just wants to hear you say it and admit that he’s the only one.

notes: okay woooow! so much fun writing this! kinda rushed the ending bc im impatient lol. please leave some love if you enjoyed reading! 🩷

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

My Job

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You storm out after an argument with Dean, but then you get into trouble. Will he get there in time to help?

Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault (not graphic), drugging

“It’s not rocket science, kid, we’ve had these rules since you were born.”

“Yeah, but I thought-“

“What, because dad isn’t here right now, I’m just gonna let you do whatever you want?”

You huffed, “Would you let me speak?”

“No, you’ve said what you wanted, and the answer is still no.”

“It’s just a few hours!”

“And you know the rules. When we’re on a hunt, you don’t go out. At all. For any reason other than the motel is on fire.”

“It’s a stupid rule!”

“It’s a rule that means that you’re safe. While monsters are out there, you’re not, it’s not exactly unreasonable.”

“It’s just one time!” Dean’s efforts to bring the volume of the conversation down just made you want to yell louder. “It wouldn’t kill you to loosen up!”

“It might kill you!” Dean matched your volume. “Im just trying to protect you, and dad would say the same thing if he-“

“You’re not dad!” You couldn’t take it anymore. You brushed past Dean, shaking his hand off when he tried to grab your arm, and stormed out the motel door, slamming it behind you.

Who was he to say you couldn’t go out? Dean, who had to be the most reckless person you knew.

Well, maybe you’d have to show him that he should practice what he preached. You were going to do as he did, not as he said.

You buried your hand into your pocket, pulling out one of your fake IDs.

You were going to show him.

…

Not fifteen minutes later you’d slipped into a bar and used your fake ID to order a beer. The bartender gave you a strange look, unsure about the “22” printed on your ID, but he’d served you nonetheless.

You sat at the bar for several minutes, wanting to spite Dean but not really wanting to drink. He’d gotten you the fake ID “in case anything happened”, and you needed to pretend to be an adult. He certainly didn’t get it so you could drink underage, and you honestly had never wanted to. You’d seen what it did to John, and how it was starting to affect Dean. You didn’t want it to somehow turn into your coping mechanism like it had with them.

Suddenly your fight with Dean felt really stupid. Was the rule really so unfair? It was his job to keep you safe, after all, and it made you feel horrible knowing that he’d never asked for that job. You weren’t his kid, you were John’s, but Dean saddled the responsibility anyway. And how did you repay him? Screaming at him and running off without telling him.

Oh gosh. He must be freaking out! He didn’t know where you were, and you’d already been gone for a bit. You’d seriously screwed up.

“Hey, princess.”

Just the sound of the grating voice made your blood run cold, and when it was followed by a hand on your arm, you visibly flinched.

“Do I know you?” You asked the stranger nervously.

“Not yet,” the man licked his lips, and your skin crawled. “Are you even old enough to drink that?” He gestured at the drink in front of you.

“Yes,” you hated how your voice quavered.

“Right,” the man grinned, clearly not believing you. “Don’t worry baby, I won’t tell on you.”

Whenever Dean called you baby, it always made you feel safe, like a baby sister Dean would always protect. When this man called you baby, it made you want to crawl out of your own skin and hide somewhere.

“You here with anyone?”

“No—I mean, I mean yes,” why, oh why had the truth slipped out?

“That’s ok, I can keep you company,” you curled in on yourself when the man leaned his body closer to yours, hating how small and pathetic you must look compared to him.

“No thanks,” your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“What was that, baby?” The man’s hand came around your waist, and he didn’t wait for an answer. “Why don’t you have a drink, you’re so tense.” He pulled your drink closer to you, and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with it.

You shook your head, finding that your voice didn’t want to work.

“Aw c’mon, just a little sip,” the man suddenly had one hand on the back of your neck, the other lifting your drink. You tried to squirm away but his grip was too strong, and a whimper escaped your lips when the cool feeling of the glass pushed against them, demanding entrance.

“Open up, pretty little thing,” he twisted so that his arm was holding your neck in place, moving his hand over to your jaw to pry it open. You felt the bitter liquid enter your mouth, and suddenly the man put the cup down, using one hand to cover your mouth while the other pinched your nose.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. Eventually it got to the point where you had no choice but to swallow, and once you did, the man released you.

“There we go, now that wasn’t so bad, was it baby?” He leaned close, and his alcohol stained breath invaded your senses. “The next part will be even better.”

Suddenly your head felt fuzzy, your body swaying in your chair. Surely this couldn’t happen because of one sip of beer, right? The scene played back in your head, and suddenly you saw it. The man’s hand hovering over your drink when he went to lean close to you. He must’ve slipped something in it, that’s why he was so desperate to get you to drink.

“S’cuse me,” your voice came out slightly slurred as you slid out of your chair, heading for the restroom. You sensed the man following right behind you, and you broke into a run.

It was a single bathroom, so you were able to lock the door a split second after you entered. You fumbled for your phone, not even hesitating as you clicked Dean’s number.

“Y/N where are you?” Dean didn’t wait for you to speak, his voice demanding and angry. You felt tears begin to stream down your cheeks as a pounding came from the bathroom door.

“I’m so sorry, Dean I’m sorry, I need help please.”

The anger dissipated, and was replaced with worry as Dean repeated his question.

“Where are you?”

“It’s-um…” why couldn’t you remember the name? Your brain felt so fuzzy, and you were so tired.

“It’s that bar we passed, um…”

“You’re at a bar?” You heard the Impala engine start, and your heart rate picked up when the door shook with the man’s pounding.

“Dean I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “Please hurry, there’s-there’s a man and he-he’s trying to…”

“I’m coming, it’s ok just hold on baby.”

Boom!

The door hinges shook.

“Dean…” you whimpered.

Boom! Boom!

The plaster around the door cracked.

“Baby? What’s happening?”

Boom!

You let out a panicked cry when the door flung open.

“Honey, talk to me, what’s-“ Dean’s voice was cut off when the man smacked the phone out of your hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” your stomach knotted at the sickeningly sweet tone. “It’s not gonna hurt that bad, I promise. It’ll be quick.”

“Please…” you felt your knees give out, and you curled against the wall as your whole body shuddered.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you,” the man was reaching forward to grab you when he was suddenly flung backwards, and Dean took his place in front of you. He remained for a few seconds, looking you over for signs of injuries, before he turned his attention to the man, his whole body tensing with rage.

You slowly got to shaky feet as Dean began to pound his fists, his palms, his feet, everything, into the man, and before long the creep couldn’t hold himself upright, his face bloody and his body bruised.

“Dean.”

The beating stopped immediately at the sound of your terrified whimper. Dean dropped the man and turned to face you, and you ignored his bloody knuckles and bruised hands as you collapsed into his arms.

“I got you, you’re ok,” Dean’s strong arms held you tightly against him, and you relaxed completely as he picked you up, your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his torso as he carried you outside.

He set you down gently in the passengers seat of the Impala, and he moved to close the door but you grabbed onto his hand.

“Not yet,” your voice came out in a hoarse whisper, and Dean knelt down to look you in the eyes.

“You’re not hurt are you? He didn’t…” Dean trailed off as you shook your head, and relief settled onto his features. “Honey what happened?”

You recounted the story, and as you did you began to cry again. It felt like living it all over again, and soon you were sobbing in Dean’s arms as he held you close, rubbing your back and cradling your head.

“It’s over now,” he promised. “I’m gonna take you home.”

You finally let him pull away, and he shut your door before climbing into the drivers seat. You drove in silence for a few minutes, but you couldn’t hold back what you needed to say any longer.

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said, I know why we have rules and I know you’re doing your best. I-I know-“ you broke off, pulling your knees to your chest before continuing. “I know you don’t deserve to be stuck in charge of me, and I’m-I’m sorry for being so difficult.”

Dean had been silent up to this point, but now he broke him, alarm on his features.

“What? Baby I’m not stuck with you, you’re my baby sister and it’s my job to-“

“But it’s a job you didn’t ask for!” You broke in, trying to keep back your tears for the third time this night. “Dad just left you here with me, and-and I know I’m not easy-“

“Stop right there,” Dean interrupted. “Sweetheart, this is the easiest job in the world for me, ok? I mean sure, sometimes you run off and give me a heart attack,” he gave you a pointed look. “But sometimes you also help with research, or bring me food, or talk Sammy through his nightmares. Honey we need you around here, just as much as you need us. We’re family, understand? It’s all of our jobs to look out for each other, so don’t think you’re just some burden on me. Don’t ever think that.”

You felt your face light up with a smile, and you finally looked up at Dean.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Dean nodded firmly as he pulled into the motel. “Now c’mon, you should get some food and sleep.”

“Dean?”

Dean hummed as he opened your car door and led you inside.

“Can…can I sleep in your bed tonight? It’s just…I’m still kinda freaked and I thought-“

“Of course you can baby,” Dean leaned down and kissed your head. “That’s what I’m here for. It’s my job.”

[belovedyandere]

pls you have to understand goth male reader and yandere jock pls pls

cw. established relationship, dubcon, manipulation, sexual themes, stalking, yandere themes

“Black does look good on you, but I think you sitting n’ crying on my cock suits you better.” The raging testosterone jock whispered behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. Lips to your cheek, exaggerating a long lick from your jaw to the bottom of your eye.

“Fuck off. What did I say about you coming onto me in public.” Pulling yourself from him, with great struggle, you crossed your arms and furrowed your brows in annoyance. “I’ve told you so many fucking times that I don’t want anyone knowing that we’re together. But you, and your horned up brain,” tapping your index finger to the jock’s temple, “never listen.” Sighing with frustration you rubbed your own temple to ease the oncoming headache.

“But we aren’t in public, in fact, it’s the start of a new period and as you can see, ain’t anyone around here.” Looking to where his head directed, he was right. The back of the school was vacant from onlookers. “And don’t act all high n’ mighty in front of me. I can see my favourite little guy down there excited to see me.” Pushing your back against the wall, his knee came in between your thighs and began to rub against you. “I’d like you to be more honest with me, just like how honest my dick is, wanting to be in your hole and filling it up.” You were left rendered speechless. By his words? His knee? The way he towered over you, with his hands resting onto your waist before coming up to meet where your nipples were? You didn’t know but out of instinct to ground yourself, your arms came to wrap around his neck. Not aware of the immense satisfaction the jock was feeling.

You couldn’t blame him if you knew. The way he followed you around like a hungry dog at school when he was the new student. You felt so out of reach yet you were right beside him in science. Weekends weren’t short enough to see you again, so he was glad to have found your hang out spot. Coincidentally bumping into you, though at first you weren’t all too please. Already having an assumption on his character based on who he had hung out with. But he was determined to wear you down, to see you wag your tail when you saw him. Though he wasn’t sure if his patience was strong enough to compete with your stubbornness. He tried everything. Greeting you nicely, wearing bits of black, listening to the bands you liked. Everything. So it surprised him when seeing you witness his disappointment when he lost a game. His head hung low with huge sighs. He didn’t notice you there until you sat beside him, giving him awkward encouraging words. And that’s where he found the perfect bait. He chuckled at your kind words, before frowning at himself. Saying that his dad was there, and he embarrassed him. All lies of course, but you certainly hadn’t known that. You were quick to comfort him, and from there a budding friendship came. But jock wasn’t happy with this friendship, yet it was what he could tolerate for now.

And as time passed, you two came to find that you shared familiar experiences, that’s what you were led to believe at least. It pulled you in, to feel understood and to be looked upon with no judgement. Your heart pulled to him, and his to you. It was obvious the feelings you both shared. Though you hesitated. You were one who appreciated things to be done and said in private. Especially relationships. And here you two were, grinding against each other behind the school, your pants somehow already onto the floor and turned to face the wall. “W-wait not here, someone’s gonna come.”

“Not if you’re quiet.” The palm of his hand coming to close your mouth, the other stretching your hole, fortunately the night before had loosened you enough for him to enter easily. But that didn’t stop you from moaning, your knees halfway already buckling from the rough movements. You weren’t surprised he preferred it rough and animalistic. He pushed you further against the wall, in hopes you wouldn’t fall, but with his quick movements and the way your hole tightened his throbbing cock, you both were quick to climax. One thing the jock knew you couldn’t deny was the sexual chemistry, you were meant for him.

[joelmillers-whore]

Choking Hazard

summary: you’ve been waiting for joel all day, waiting for him to fuck you like he promised. but when he discovers that you’d gotten yourself off earlier, he makes you pay for being disobedient. 

recommended song(s): SLUT ME OUT - NLE Choppa 

pairings: joel x reader 

word count: 4.1K

series or one-shot 

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, joel miller x female!reader, SMUT, daddy joel can get it, orgasm denial, overstimulation, use of sex toys (vibrator), allusions to female masturbation, cum play, oral (male receiving), praise, slight degradation kink, dirty talk, dom joel, choking on cock, fingering but for only a second, rough blowjob, lots and lots of teasing, edging, pet names (mostly baby and sweetness, a lil darlin' in there too), porn without plot, cum facial, cum eating, spitting 

A/N: JUST SOME GOOD ‘OL DIRTY SMUT FOR YOU ALL. i don’t know what this is but i saw a picture on pinterest of a pair of boxers that had the words ‘choking hazard’ written on the crotch and my dirty mind ran with it lol. 

You’d been waiting not so patiently for Joel to get home from work and it was killing you. He’d left your whole body on fire, each searing touch licking at your flesh, each hungry look he gave another nail in the coffin for your pride. Because you wanted it— needed it, and he was all too aware of that fact.

You were so turned on that the slightest brush at just the right angle could knock into you and you’d probably cum on the spot. Your need was bad, and deadly, and it didn’t help much that Joel enjoyed it. He got a kick out of torturing you, holding your release just out of reach that you’d be willing to ruin yourself for a single moment of pleasure. 

The taunting had become a test between you, each measuring your limits and how much you could take. This time was no different. With dark and rounded eyes, Joel had gripped you hard by your chin, almost painfully so, and demanded that you not touch yourself, not give into the temptation of your orgasm.

And then, he did the most menacing thing he had ever done. He left you alone and completely to your own devices, if not for a small keepsake of multiple and agonizingly strong bursts of tremors every hour. 

Your nipples hardened into painful peaks, pressing into the abrasive material of your shirt and torturing you with equally blissful and confusing sensations. You snapped your eyes shut, rolling your head to the side as a powerful buzz rocketed through you, sending vibration after vibration shooting from your core, through the expanse of your body and settling low in your stomach, nudging you closer to your orgasm.

It was demented what he was doing to you; his little science experiment like you were some sort of fucked-out lab rat. It was drawn out and bordering on sadistic, and you couldn’t do anything but take it. 

Before heading out for the day, Joel had instructed you to get on the bed and spread your legs. His voice had been low, lethal, the edge of it shooting straight to your core, turning you into a needy slut. You’d whined, and begged, but Joel wouldn’t have it.

It was his time, his moment, and he wasn’t going to allow you to take that away from him. You had thought that he would be kind, that he would leave you with a parting gift. Maybe an orgasm to satiate your hunger for him until he came back home. Instead, your lips turned down, your brows furrowing in confusion when he’d revealed a small box, holding up a strange-looking device. 

Your core fluttered and came to life as you laid eyes on the toy. The pink, smooth vibrator promising endless pleasure that you’d happily give into. As you inspected it, your walls clamped around nothing, eyes dragging over the silicon material that curved at the end.

It reminded you of Joel’s cock and you bit down on your lip, suppressing a moan, not wanting to give Joel any more ammunition than he already had. 

You were roughly pulled toward the edge of the bed, feeling Joel’s massive and calloused hands grip you, making you squirm away from his touch out of reflex. He grabbed your ankles, soft fingers contrasted against the strength behind his grip.

Each and every nerve was awakened, charged, as if at a molecular level, you had been starved. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that the way he was looking at you, through heavy lids, his eyes glinting with devilish intent, wasn’t turning you on. Because it was.

You both knew it. You could feel the prominent wetness in your underwear grow in size and at this rate, you’d be drenched by the time he got you out of them. 

He wasted no time shimming you out of said panties, forcefully lifting your hips and tugging them down your legs. It was rushed, quick, as if at any second he could change his mind, alter his direction, and fuck you senseless instead.

You noticed the strain on his face, the way that the muscles in his neck were so tightly coiled you’d bet they would snap if you so much as breathed wrong. He was wound up as soundly as you were, suffering the same way you were, yet he let his feelings aside to fulfill a deeper desire. 

With your soaked panties in one hand and his other gripping both of your ankles, he brought the material to his nose, inhaling your scent deeply, with purpose. He let out a rumbling groan, letting his eyes flutter closed as he relished in it, knowing that you were that wet for him. Only him. Only ever him.

Your chest squeezed, constricting in time with your quickened breathing, the anticipation was killing you. Your hairline was slick with beads of sweat, from both the rising temperature in the room, and the restraint that you were exhibiting. Because you were holding yourself back, waiting to see what came next. 

Joel dropped to his knees, running his hands up and down your legs, almost tenderly, teasingly lighter than how he had been. It fucked with your head, how he was able to be both tender and punishing within such a short amount of time.

He inserted a single digit into you, your hips lifting, trying to escape the sudden intrusion. Joel held you firmly in place, his hand on your stomach crushing you into the mattress below. You’d thrown your head back, wiggling your lower half, trying to find something more than just his one finger. 

He had shushed you, telling you to be patient and that he’d make you cum if you behaved. His words heated your skin, making your lower stomach cramp and sparking something primal within you. You wanted him to fuck you with wild abandon, not stopping when you cried out, begged him for some sort of reprieve, or when you gasped for breath.

You needed him carnally, in a way that would make the Gods weep. It was something you should be ashamed of, but then again, did you really care? 

Your back naturally arched off of the bed when you felt him finally move inside of you, scissoring your hole, and curling his fingers, tickling the edge of your walls. A broken moan slipped past your lips, and incoherent begging mixed with panting came next. Your mind was in a fog, abuzz with lust. You continued to beg for it, begged for anything to make the pain stop. 

Joel removed his fingers, chuckling darkly when you whined. His face was twisted in concentration as he replaced his fingers with the vibrator, the size of it stretching you out.

Your chest was heaving, feeling like a balloon ready to burst from the blinding pressure in your cunt. He inserted it inch by delicious inch, not stopping when you protested, telling him that it wouldn’t fit. He made some crude comment that he would make it fit. 

You should have been turned off but your skin only tingled when he had said it. You felt his eyes watching you every second, not straying from your face as he studied you, curious to see how far he could push you, which limit would be too much for you.

He hummed in satisfaction when the device was fully lodged inside of you. 

In your daze, you hadn’t been sure if you asked him aloud what he planned to do with you, or if you had just only thought it. But when his raspy voice cut through the dense air between you, you’d stilled. You’ll see, is all you had gotten from him.

It made your heartbeat thunder in your chest, hearing a teasing, but all the same, dark lilt dripping from his silky and usually warm Southern drawl. But it wasn’t warm today, it was cold.

Chilling you to the bone at his warning disguised as a promise. Joel got to his feet, leaning over your slack body, and gripped your chin, thumb digging into your bottom lip. 

“Open”, he instructed, and you obeyed. 

You opened your mouth, slowly. He towered over you, his face inches from your own. His dark brown eyes held no warmth, instead, they made you shiver when you looked into them. Which was an entirely new feeling for you. With an open mouth, Joel parted his own lips, letting a glop of saliva dangle off of his tongue, and let it drip into your awaiting mouth.

He snapped your jaw closed, watching your eyes curiously for any hint of disgust or refusal. Not that he’d let you refuse him in the first place. 

“Swallow”. 

Two words. Commands. And you were putty, willing to do whatever to please him. Your throat worked his spit down, swallowing it audibly. Joel’s lips quirked at the edges, his eyes shining with satisfaction. Wordlessly, he left you, heading out of the bedroom.

The room was silent, save for your harsh breathing. You heard the front door close, mistakenly thinking that Joel would be right back but you had been wrong. You shot up shakily, balancing your body weight on your elbows as you let out an annoyed puff. 

Your head was spinning as you lay there, waiting for what, you didn’t know. You rubbed your thighs together, unsure of your next move. Joel hadn’t explicitly said that you couldn’t touch yourself and he wasn’t there to help you out. What was the harm?

A sudden and sharp buzz pounded into you, the jolt making you rip your hand away from your aching cunt, forcing a loud moan from you. Your toes curled from the onslaught of pressure building and you were panting, slick running down your legs. 

You felt the warm tingling sensation that you craved. It began at the base of your spine, easing the knot that had been tangled in your stomach. It climbed higher and higher, your throat gulping bursts of air at a damning rate.

Your clit was on fire from the overstimulation of the continual vibrations, the pleasure bordering on painful. You were levitating off of the bed, head empty of every thought except your imminent release. Streaks of hot tears painted your cheeks, from the burn in your pussy, or the relief, you weren’t sure. 

Your legs quivered in time with each drawn-out buzz, your orgasm cresting and a breath away from exploding out of you. Suddenly, everything stopped. The vibrations were gone, your release yanked from you. You whimpered, crying out into the empty room as if someone could hear you. 

What the fuck? Your breathing was choppy, almost coming out as wheezes, your throat burning. Your pussy fluttered, your walls clamping and unclamping as if they didn’t know what to do next. You blinked back more tears, throwing your head back in both exhaustion and pent-up anger.

You were officially sexually frustrated that you’d give anything to cum. It was all so overwhelming and torturous. You heard a dull vibration from somewhere in the room, your body so hooked on the buzzing of the vibrator that it twitched.

You shook your head, sliding from the bed. It was your phone. Your heart ticked up when you saw that the message was from Joel. 

Joel: Having fun? 

You audibly growled at the phone. He was taunting you when you were all out of patience. The fucking bastard. 

You: Actually, no. 

Joel: Bet you’d have a change of heart if I made you cum.

Your walls clenched around nothing when you read and re-read his words, making sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

You: Was that... you? 

He took longer to respond this time, which made your hand clench at your side, nerves working in tandem with your displaced energy. You waited for his answer, realizing that you were playing right into his hand, holding your breath for his next instruction.

A soft buzz emitted in your hand. 

Joel: Thought we could have some fun today. 

You groaned, cursing softly. Fun. Sure. That had been so much fun. 

You: Wasn’t that much fun, baby. I didn’t get to cum. 

Joel: If you’re a good girl today, maybe I’ll let you. 

Maybe I’ll let you. The fucking balls on this man. He knew exactly what he was doing, winding you up so that you’d have no choice but to agree to him. You felt like he knew every decision you were going to make and yet, you had never been so turned on in your life. 

You: Fine. What do I have to do? 

Joel: Behave. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum until I get back home. You’ll be rewarded if you manage to hold out. 

You rolled your eyes. It was sick. It was sick and oh, so hot. You bit down on your lip, wincing from the pressure. 

You: You have a deal. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your thighs had been aching all day, shaking until the muscles spasmed on their own. You debated conceding, telling Joel that you were at the end of your rope, and that he would just have to let you make it up to him.

Your resolve had slipped further out of reach as the day progressed, the excruciating spike of the harsh vibrations drilling into you, forcing you to grip whatever surface was closest to you, until the blinding pleasure subsided. Your mind was creeping to the edge of madness, your determination waning. Until it was non-existent. 

Your chest was heaving, toes cramping, chest burning as you came back down from your orgasm, your engorged and swollen clit chafing as you slid off of the bed.

Your fingers were covered in your own juices, as you walked into the bathroom to wash your hands. You’d broken your promise, crumpled for a moment of gratifying pleasure. And you felt like a failure. 

But you hadn’t been able to dwell on it for long before you heard the front door unlock, your back stiffening as you heard it close gently. Your breathing became shallow, knowing you were in for it, and that you hadn’t been able to last. Joel would unearth the truth from you and punish you accordingly.

A cord of both anxiety and excitement settled between your legs. You heard the dull thump of him kicking off his boots, your spine tingling with anticipation as you tracked each step he took. 

Joel entered the bedroom, finding your eyes immediately. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes roaming you hungrily. His smile was tired, but those never-ending orbs gleamed back at you with the promise of something sinful.

They squinted, boring into you suspiciously. You fiddled with your hands, trying not to make it obvious that you had disobeyed him, cumming just moments ago when he had told you not to. 

Joel closed the distance, peeling off his flannel, and throwing it onto the chair in the corner of the bedroom. Your gaze focused on his chest, his broad shoulders, watching the subtle way that his chest rose and fell softly. He didn’t seem the least bit on edge, unlike you. His hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. 

He inhaled deeply, a wicked and knowing smirk plastered on his lips. 

"'D'you come, baby? Hm?", he asked, gruffly. "Did you disobey me and get yourself off?". 

"No", you answered, shaking your head. But it came out meekly, unsure. 

Joel slid one of his hands up your waist, crawling up your stomach and past your chest, to grip your throat, resting at the base of it. Out of habit, you swallowed, Joel’s eyes flicking to your throat.

His eyes seemed almost black, endless with lust as they honed in on you. On every tick and hum of your body. 

His hand tightened around your throat, not yet constricting your airflow, but playing with the fact that he could if he so chose.

A surge of liquid fire tore through your lower belly, making a home deep within you. 

"I think you did, sweetness", he hummed, licking his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring, "I can smell it on you". 

You fisted his shirt, unsure if you were trying to stop him from what he was going to do next, or steady yourself as you rode the impending wave. His grip tightened on your throat, and the other hand pulled your body flush with his.

Your pulse strummed, feeling him harden through his jeans. You felt his growing bulge push into your stomach. You were only wearing an oversized shirt yourself, your lower half completely bare and exposed, ready for whatever Joel was about to do to you. 

His face lowered and he dragged his scruff along your jawline harshly, his full lips ghosting over your already inflamed skin. You whined from the contact, practically keening at how touch-starved you felt.

Joel had complete control over your emotions and your body. He had two modes; rough and tender. And you knew exactly which one you were in for tonight.  

“Don’t lie to me now”, he started, his one hand tangling in your hair, yanking to the point of pain. “Just gonna make it worse for yourself”. 

You let out a broken moan, bucking your hips into his bulge, trying to distract him long enough to forget that you’d come without his permission.

But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. He only tightened the hand that was around your throat, all but crushing your windpipe, causing your pussy to weep at how much you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Y-yes”, you admitted, choking on the words. You swallowed against the grip on your throat. 

Joel clicked his teeth, shaking his head. You could tell that he was disappointed in you, it was written all over his face.

He looked down at you through heavy lids, his pupils the size of saucers, the intensity making you shiver. 

“What am I going to do with you, huh?”. 

You ground your hips into his groin, eliciting a clipped groan from him. 

“Fuck me, Joel", there was an edge to your voice, as you rubbed your thighs together to ease the pulsating, “Please, baby. I’m so wet for you”. 

Joel grunted, features neutral as he glared at you. “Fucking is a reward, but you haven’t been good. Have ya, sweetness?”. 

Your body trembled at his harsh tone, hearing the intensity in his voice, how strained it was. 

He continued, “Gonna have to punish you”. You nodded, both ready and willing to accept whatever punishment he dealt. “Get on your knees”. 

You didn’t hesitate, Joel’s grasp releasing you as he stepped back, giving you room as you lowered yourself. When you were situated, you looked up at him, watching as he undid his belt. 

His movements were fluid, smooth, and confident as he dropped the belt to the ground with a dull clang. Buttons were undone, his zipper taunting he pulled it down slowly. Next came his jeans and boxers, shuffling them down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles. 

Joel’s cock sprang free from its constraints, finally. It slapped against his stomach, pre-cum already dribbling out from the tip, making the head glistening in the low light of the room.

You wet your lips, preparing for the breach into your mouth. He reached out, taking hold of your chin, looking down at you with admiration. 

"Don't say I didn't warn 'ya", Joel muttered as he released your chin, taking hold of his cock and fisting it. 

You watched him stroke himself rhythmically, taking his time with it, a low grunt leaving him when he stopped, eyes on you. 

"A little help, darlin'?", Joel asked, his voice stuttering in time with his breathing. And you immediately what he was asking of you. 

You let the saliva in your mouth pool in your cheeks, standing on your knees and letting a glob of spit drop from your mouth, dripping onto his shaft. He smirked at you, a pleased hum rumbling from his throat as he used the lubricant that you provided to continue stroking himself. 

Loud grunting tumbled out of him, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. Joel was practically in a cloud of lust as he gripped the back of your neck, pushing your face closer to his lower half.

You opened your mouth, your head in a tizzy as you inhaled his musk; a mix of salty sweat and his natural aroma invading your senses. 

With your mouth open wide he forced his member into your mouth roughly, not giving you a minute to adjust or breathe. His tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to momentarily sputter around him. But he wasn’t deterred, if anything, it only spurred him on more, witnessing you choke down his huge cock.

He demanded more, always more from you. You inhaled deeply through your nose as he continued to stuff his girth further down your throat. 

You unhinged your jaw as wide as you could, opening your throat to take more of him. You hollowed out your cheeks as Joel’s hand snaked back around to fist your hair, guiding your head as he began thrusting his hips savagely.

Your eyes watered from the intensity of his pace, trying to remember to breathe. Your head bobbed up and down his length, interchangeably suckling at the tip. 

"Mmm, you like sucking my cock, hm?”, Joel asked, his voice raspy, “Like choking on it like a good little slut”. 

You hummed around him, satisfied that he was enjoying himself. You used your tongue to bring him even more pleasure, licking a wide strip along the underside of it. Joel bucked his hips faster, yanking your head back and burying himself down your throat, to the hilt.

You gagged, your eyes dispelling the build-up of tears, your lungs burning from the lack of air. 

You could feel your whole body start to simmer, your inhibitions and fleeting anger at Joel withholding your orgasm from you, gone. Now you were only focused on one thing; making him cum. There was an influx of pressure coursing through you.

You wanted more, actually, you needed it. You reached in between your legs, barely touching your clit, the sensation driving you insane, and moaning onto Joel’s cock. His eyes snapped to you, noticing that you were touching yourself. 

"D'you think you deserve to come, sweetness? Hm?", he mocked, watching as your brows furrowed and you massaged your clit harder, "'Cause I don't think so". 

Joel grabbed your arm forcefully, keeping up his unruly tempo on your throat, his balls slapping hard against your chin.

You whined around his cock, feeling the swell of your orgasm just on the outskirts. 

"You've been disobedient, darlin', and we need to correct that", he continued, making you gag on his length, chuckling darkly.  

His jaw was slack, his head falling back as he grunted, feeling your throat acclimate to his size. Accepting that you weren't going to get off anytime soon, you concentrated all of your efforts on him.  

You decided to turn the tables on him, sitting back on your heels and puckering your lips, sliding them up and down his shaft. He groaned above you, his other hand joined the one in your hair, holding on for dear life.

You could feel him twitch in your mouth, signalling that he was close. You picked up your pace, sucking the tip and massaging his balls to bring him to the edge. 

Joel removed you from his length with a pop, saliva dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin, you were positively intoxicated from his cock, under its spell.

Confusion was written all over your face as he pulled back. He fisted his cock, fast strokes faltering as his whole body began to shake. 

"'M gonna cum, sweetness. Where do you want it?", he sighed, gasping for air as his eyes closed. You gaped at him closely, turned on by watching him lose control. 

"Want you to cum on my face", you said, low. 

"Fuck, you can't just say that to me".

Joel pumped his cock harder and it didn't take much before he was unloading his spend onto your face, painting you with his seed. Your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the warmth of him on your skin.

His groans were deep and throaty as he milked himself of every drop. 

You felt a dollop of his cum run down your cheek, cresting the edge of your mouth. You opened your eyes to see him use his cock to wipe it up, shuffling it into your mouth.

You purred, licking up each drop like the obedient little slut that you were. When your face was clean, you stood up, leading Joel to the bed and straddling his lap. 

"Did I do good?", you asked, blinking up at him sweetly. 

He nodded, "You did so well, sweetness. Now lemme make sure you feel good too".