#gathering all my strength to finish it before the end of the month

[quinn-of-aebradore]

of blossoming hearts and glittering souls hit 60k words last night :3

[propertyofsamcollins]

"You see strength in my weakness"

Sam/Darlin' fic

796 words

A/n: Guess who finally finished a fic🤭 it took me way too long to finish this. I started months ago, but anywhooo, I hope you enjoy.

Darlin’ was nervous, and Sam could see it.

While they didn’t talk about their feelings much, Sam had learned that they expressed them with their body language.

The way they kept fiddling with the rings that adorned their hands, the continuous bouncing of their leg, all pieces of body language that Sam had realized the meaning to over the years.

“Darlin’, you alright? you look like something is eatin’ at you.” Sam asked, effectively breaking his mate out of whatever trance they seemed to be caught in.

“Hm? Oh, yeah I’m okay, just thinking...” They murmured, trailing off at the end, seeming to be caught in whatever loop of thoughts they were in.

“Thinking about what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Sam whispered, not wanting to disturb them too much.

Darlin’ looked up at Sam but stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing their options. Questioning whether they should tell him the thoughts running circles in their mind.

“There's just…” Darlin’ paused for a second. “There’s something I wanna say, but…i uh, i don’t know how to say it”

Sam smiled at that. Though he hated watching them struggle, he loved seeing how much they’d grown in the past 2 years. “Take as much time as you need Darlin’, there's no rush.” Sam stated, smiling, before cupping their face in his hands “I'd wait a thousand lifetimes for you.” And he smiled again, not that he’d stopped, but somehow, it looked brighter. Like the warm sun that he could no longer sit under, it was poetic in a way.

Darlin sat there for a second, simmering in their thoughts. They wanted to tell him just how much they cared for him, they felt they hadn’t expressed it much in the time they’d spent together, unlike Sam who was perfectly okay with reminding them just how much he loved them.

“I just…I appreciate you a lot, y’know?” They paused, looking up at their mate for some sort of confirmation, and Sam nodded, with the loving look in his eye he always seemed to have when staring at them.

“You,” they hesitated for a moment “You let me be weak, and you see strength in it, a lot of people don’t do that, and it means a lot to me” they whispered, voice wavering a bit, the vulnerability they felt at the moment was a lot, but they’d bare with it for him.

They’d do anything for him

Sam cocked his head to the side, a habit he’d picked up after spending so much time with the pack, and Darlin’ smiled at that, a small sense of pride filling them. “I appreciate you too, but I don’t really understand what you mean by ‘I see strength in your weakness’,” the vampire paused for a second, as if he was trying to figure it out himself, “Do you think you could tell me what you mean?” Sam almost whispered softly, his hand coming up to cup their face, while his thumb traced patterns onto their face.

“Well, it’s hard to explain,” Darlin whispered back, “But, basically, when most people see you weak, they tend to forget that you’re still strong.” the shifter explained, “And a lot of people start to treat you like porcelain, even when you don’t need it.” darlin’ paused, gathering their thoughts again, “Like, yeah it was nice when I was crying my eyes out, but I don’t need you to treat me like a piece of glass anymore, y’know?” darlin asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah, it’s like once they see you in a bad moment, they treat you like a child having a breakdown,” Sam paraphrased, it made sense to him, and he could definitely see how someone like Darlin’ wouldn’t like that. He knew they were strong, and he treated them as such.

“Exactly!” the shifter exclaimed, practically jumping out of their seat at the prospect of someone finally understanding what they were saying. “I can’t stand it when people do that shit, it irks my nerves.” they huffed, and Sam laughed, nodding along.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, holding eye contact with each other. A smile on both their faces.

“But…” the shifter hesitated again, “You don’t do that,” darlin muttered, smiling a little wider, “You see my weakness, and view it as proof that I’m strong, instead of dismissing my strength.” they whispered, “And I really appreciate it, so, thank you.” they finished, still looking at their mate, staring at Sam like he held the world in those beautiful silver eyes of his.

“Always, Darlin’, always.”

[cr4zyoosh]

New & Improved Design of my CRP Oc/Sona! (Sort of)

So here’s some thoughts & details more about her I also provided color scheme for anyone who may want to draw her?? I know I’m not that popular but it would be so greatly honored to have that! 🫶😭

First I want to start off with the AGE OF HER!

So, in her backstory over the course of months part taking her backstory she is 18-19 years old, by the time she meets Slendy/Operator(?) it is in fact close to her birthday month. (Now I have no ideas for names or a different birthdate for her other than my own name & birthday)

Around the time she is finally in the mansion & has been there for at least a couple weeks it’s her birthday then that’s when she will endure the “proxy” sickness or whatever it is called just the sickness where she gets her powers, by the time her powers are finally overtaking her & finished she is at least around 19 or 20 years old. Then on the course of years she been there canonically she is around 20-22 years old! FULL GROWN YOUNG ADULT!

Secondly, her power!

Now I want to mention that yes at first I wanted her to be a very powerful “being” (will explain the ‘being’ part later) but in actuality, her power is actually not the strongest. Her power like mention in my story/ideas post that she has these powers where she can morph into this “demon type thing”; like sleep paralysis, but it takes up a lot of her energy. So she does not use it a lot, only for the “stunning” part where she makes the victim “paralyzed” like how sleep paralysis is. Then either she attacks the victim with the switchblade/pocket knife or the other proxy along with her on the missions gets their kill in. Of course when she uses her full power she is powerful absolutely yes, but it takes up so much of her energy that she needs to chill out & tag along with the other proxies & kill them how the others do.(such as how Jeff & Toby are both very much human with good amount of strength, that is what she would have to do instead of using her power.) Now she does still have that power where she’s in her demon form & she can use the red mist / shadow stuff to have it travel into the victims eye sockets & mouth, infecting them, along with this is when she infects them you can see red veins (glowing) travel up to the victims minds/brain, she then can see & hear their thoughts & dreams; marking her name as The Dream Reaper. She also then has them fade away into her “realm” of the souls she has “reaped”, so she can gain more energy. This also if the other proxies knock out the victims & she’s near, she can be able to send them directly to her “realm” to reap their soul, then even share the soul to feed for herself & the proxy that helped her. (Sharing is caring ya know?)

Now her weakness.

Previously mentioned she doesn’t use her full power all the time, due to draining her so badly. If she completely is drained she will grow sickly again like when she was getting her powers & end up having those dreams again that come to life. If she is that desperate & cannot use her power for gathering energy, she may end up in a cannibalisic state where another proxy needs to bring her a victim knocked out & have to be kept in a room for her to actually feed on the victim. THIS IS A IDEA NOT FULLY SURE TO GO THROUGH WITH IT!

I will explain in my story as I retype it all out & finally finish it instead of just the two chapters spread out what she endured during the so called “sickness”.

A bit of spoilers!

She… she isn’t really human. If you could not tell before about her power. Let’s just say she is more of a proxy absolutely, but is undead. Sort of like a zombie but less rotting flesh, etc. more of a zombie but still fully intact brain function & organs. I will explain in my story of how she became of that.

Notes about why I am posting this!

So I wanted to not per se “recreate” her but wanted to make her story & design more… original? I guess? I felt like her design for her “form” is definitely like Zalgos or Lazari’s which by the way IS NOT THE CASE! I was heavily inspired by a dream I once had with red & black images flashing & it was hella scary. Also the inspiration for this was I have such weird ass dreams & I am very spiritually connected to beings that no one can see from the naked eye, I also happen to love creepypasta & slenderverse stuff so win win! I want to also mention that, I’ve made fan art of her & Tim/Masky yes (the posted ones) in my story I won’t make it a “canon” thing because Tim/Masky isn’t MINE to own & do that to, but I may have her have a bit of a crush on him & have a few interactions with one another because why not? They have similar personalities sort of & similar trauma’s a bit so win win as well but also… daddy issues YAYYYYY (not). But if anyone would like to make fan art of him & her I would absolutely love to see it! (I know this won’t be too popular but it’s greatly appreciated to see fan art with the other Proxies or Marble Hornets characters or even your own CRP Ocs!!!)

I want to also add her personality!

Her personality is… anxiety ridden. She’s absolutely jumpy & paranoid half of the time, but once she finally settles down in the mansion, she’s a bit calmer but still slightly kept to herself, she’s also a bit mischievous as well. She barely sleeps & if she does, it’s for a short time. If she is weak she may sleep longer. She’s also alternative! She’s scene emo, hint to her hair. But she also likes the grunge clothing as well, obviously the music too, she enjoys PTV, SWS, MCR, Digital Daggers, aesthetically pleasing music (like the silent hill soundtracks, along with Alex g, Tv Girl, Julie, Wisp, etc!), along with this is of course some scene music like some Brokencyde, 30H!3, Millionares, some underground scene bands, now in for some more metal such as Korn, Evanescence, SOAD, Deftones, some Staind, Three Days Grace, Get Scared (of course). Also likes some gothic music such as some HIM, some Lebanon Hanover, & a bit of twin tribes! Other honorable mentions of music is The Front Bottoms, Current Joys, Cigarettes After Sex, some Nirvana, Blink-182, & Lana Del Rey. Some of the calm music help her calm herself down.

She also likes to draw & take notes on everyone in the mansion. She will draw them out & make notes on their personality, the way they talk, quite literally everything. (Will be explained more in story of why.) When she is around people she is comfortable with you would think she’s an absolute stoner (aka she sort of is). Now when she is out on missions, absolutely secluded to herself, absolutely INSANE due to lack of sleep, aggressive as fuck, quite literally the one to tell the victim what she will do to them kind of thing, does not hesitate towards anyone, maybe only children though & animals of course she isn’t fully insane. Duh of course she slightly knows how to play guitar & can sing a good ass mean rock/metal songs even ones sang by men! Absolutely loves guitar hero too. (I can see her, Jeff, & probably Ben playing that all the time for shitz & giggles). She also dresses scene close to Nina almost, but mostly Jean shorts with ripped tights or skinny ripped jeans along with a band tee or anything 2000s, along with some scene arm warmers sometimes or even ripped arm things like tights but for her arms along with thick bracelets or Candi (I totally see Nina & her making some for one another even having sally join in!) now her outfit to go on missions is in fact grunge looking but it keeps her hidden, able to carry more stuff in her pockets, & the outfit she wandered out & found Slenderman/The Operator (not sure which yet). Her grunge look is mostly casual wear but she mostly does wear Scene looks more, even if they are very simple. Absolutely her hair is dyed bright red & black obviously but she is a natural red head (like myself that’s why she’s more of a sona than oc but I call her both!) & yes she has a eyebrow piercing!

THIS IS HEAVILY BASED ON THE SLENDER MANSION BUT ALSO IN THE SLENDERVERSE IT IS MY OWN TAKE OF THOSE!!!

I think that’s all I have for now! Fill free to ask questions or like I previously said, draw anything with her with your own creepypasta oc or some of the characters themselves! 🫶🫶🫶

[foundtherightwords]

🛒 🐀 🥁 "Hoard" thoughts 🛒 🐀 🥁

OK, so I've finally finished watching "Hoard" (after having to put it on hold because I got sensory overload from the damned Interview Magazine photoshoot!) and sufficiently recovered to gather my thoughts. Here they are (placed below the photo/cut to avoid spoilers, obvs):

First impression: It's a lot less gross than I was led to believe. Even the scene everybody claims to be the grossest (with the pop rocks) is not that gross to me. But maybe I'm just desensitized from watching too much Taskmaster lol (when you've watched a man eat hot toothpaste, dog food, burned porn, and a regurgitated donut all in the name of comedy, and whatever the hell this task is, nothing is gross anymore.)

In fact, I'm pleasantly surprised by how whimsical the movie is, especially the earlier scenes of Maria's childhood. Luna did a great job treading that fine line between magical (especially when seen from young Maria's POV) and grim (when seen from the audience's POV). Hayley Squires is amazing as Cynthia; there's so much strength and vulnerability in her character. Hers is the stand-out performance for me after Joe's.

Michael: I'm going to be biased here (of course I am, it's Joe) and say I don't find Michael as despicable as Luna and Joe himself made him out to be in interviews. Yes, a lot of this sympathy is thanks to Joe's performance (though I have to say he's excellent at adding a sinister undercurrent to everything Michael does, especially in the early scenes with Maria). But I think Michael is struggling just as much as Maria, and he doesn't have the support system like Maria does (with her foster mum or her friend) to pull him out of it. His fiancee seems sweet, but she's clueless (and honestly, I was screaming at her to just leave his smelly ass at the end! You don't need him!) I can see how his actions can be interpreted as manipulative and predatory because he's so much older than Maria and already in a relationship. Still, when you think about how both Michael and Maria don't have a normal childhood and they're trying to recapture that sense of childhood with each other, then you can say Maria is in control of the action much more than he is (he freaks out when she goes off on her own and insists that "We do this together", like a little kid). @ceriseheaven has an excellent interpretation that Michael is the personification of grief for Maria, which I heartily agree with and want to add that, if Michael is grief to Maria, then Maria is childhood for him, the childhood he never had (and the fact that he's about to be a dad himself is driving this home for him, making him even more desperate for that taste of joy before he has to be a real grown-up.) This is why the sex sours it for both of them, I believe. It makes everything too real. Everybody keeps talking about Joe's improv of the line "Please love me," but for me, it's the line before that - "Is it that hard [to love me]?" - that really breaks my heart and epitomizes Michael's character.

My quibble: pacing. I find the first half of the movie kind of slow, and the second half almost breakneck in pace, so much so that I was surprised when Michelle claims it's been 5 months since Maria left school (it felt like 5 days to me!) Maybe it's intentional on Luna's part, but I wish it could have been more evenly paced so we could really get into Maria's downward spiral and see how her hoard builds up gradually. The last 15 minutes or so, starting with the confrontation with Michael in her room (the "Please love me" scene), is the most powerful to me, but because of the pacing, the ending feels kind of rushed. I guess the catalyst that shocks Maria out of her hoarding is the encounter with the hit-and-run victim, but it feels a little out of nowhere. After all that dysfunction, I wasn't expecting it to be wrapped up so neatly (yes, there is the hint that Maria may be pregnant, but she seems to have made peace with everything.) I'm going to watch it again to see if this impression changes.

Finally: why doesn't Sky Store have subtitles for their films? I'm at that age now where I can't hear without subtitles, and half of the time I have no idea what the characters are saying (their thick East London accent doesn't help.)

So, all in all, a very interesting film, not my type at all (my taste in film is very conventional haha), but it's a testament to Luna's talent that she manages to deliver such a personal story in a way that resonates with the audience regardless of our experiences, and I'm glad it's been brought to our attention thanks to Joe. I'm definitely going to rewatch it (several times!) to pick apart the story and the characters more carefully.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 22

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 21 🟣 Part 23

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, abusive parents, drama, angst, more drama.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Alright so actually I'd completely forgotten that I had this finished, and I found it today, so... enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

Three weeks later you had all but forgotten about Katie’s threats, and you were getting ready to spend a day in with your four favorite guys, gathering snacks, drinks and blankets for a cozy movie-marathon — something you felt you very much deserved because not even August had been able to ward you of all the discomfort of having that IUD put in.

Your plans were disrupted by the doorbell. Sherlock opened the door, and though you couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, you recognized that voice immediately.

“May I inquire what this is about?” Sherlock asked politely, not immediately ready to let the strangers inside.

“We were informed that our daughter is living here, and that we should go see her.” You’d recognize your mother’s distinctive accent anywhere. It cut through all other sounds — and not in a good way… Sherlock turned to look at you, and you nodded as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Darlin’!” your mom pulled you into a hug, and after that your dad did the same, only in a much more possessive way. Your mother looked around the room, at the table full of snacks, the nest on the couch and the four guys in the living room. “Are these friends of yours?”

“These are, eh… my roommates,” you stammered, surprised you had even managed to choke out a single word of that sentence. This was not going to end well.

“You’ve been living with four men?” Your father looked as though his face was about to explode. You could have seen that coming. You should have seen that coming. Just like you could have predicted your mom’s gasping and proverbial pearl-clutching. What were they even doing he—Katie! That bitch.

“Yes, mom,” you said, your voice betraying you. They were never going to approve of this arrangement, never mind the other arrangement you had with the guys. Maybe there was a chance you wouldn’t have to tell them about that.

Of course, they weren’t just going to leave — especially not after such a long drive — so August made everyone coffee while trying to keep you as calm as possible. Mike tried a few times to get closer to you, but you shook your head. Having four guys as roommates was strike one. A boyfriend would be strike two, and possibly also three. Learning that any of them was a vampire would likely give your dad an aneurysm. Not that that would be such a bad thing, but still. You were so completely unprepared to have this conversation…

So you drank your coffee and introduced your partners as friends, tearing off little pieces of your heart with every word, not so much because of the lie you told your parents, but because you couldn’t gather the strength to tell your family about your situation. Yes, it was unconventional, and yes, it was absolutely going to cause some really big problems… but you loved the guys so much. Then why was it so hard to choose their love?

“They’re your family, I promise we all understand,” Marshall let you know, and you thanked the universe for his gift and the fact that it was becoming so well-established outside of feeding situations.

“You’re my family too,” you replied, fighting back tears. “Probably more than they are.”

He promised you that you’d get through this, that life would go back to normal, and that your parents didn’t have to find out about the details of your relationship with the guys, and it all seemed to be headed that way — until something startled your mother and she dropped her empty coffee cup as she reached to put it back on the table. Unthinkingly as ever, Mike snatched it before it could hit the ground — a feat you could have passed off as ‘incredible reflexes’, if not for the fact that he was on the other side of the room from your mother when it happened, and he was back in his chair with the cup in his hands after barely a second.

“Darlin’, come here,” your father said slowly as he got up from his chair. “Now.”

“No, dad, sit down.”

“We have to leave,” he insisted. “That man is a vampire.” He held a hand out to you, and in that moment half of your childhood flashed before your eyes. Countless memories of being pulled along, dragged away from all things deemed dangerous and ungodly… Endless lectures on dangers you now knew never even existed in the first place. The amount of times that hand had struck you for disobedience and being ‘too curious for your own good’ — whatever the hell that meant.

“I’m aware of that,” you answered, your voice surprisingly even.

As per your predictions, your dad’s face looked like he was about to explode. “Y-you’re… aware of that?”

“Honey, you… you knew he was a vampire, and you chose to live with him anyway?” Your mother was pale as a sheet and looked like she was about to faint.

“I didn’t know at first,” you explained quietly, “and when he told me… I was shocked, of course. But… it didn’t change anything. He was still the guy I met… the guy I… fell in love with.” Cat, say goodbye to bag.

You focused your attention on the throbbing vein on your father’s forehead, so you could avoid looking into his eyes for a moment longer.

“Do I understand correctly that you are living with four men, one of whom is a vampire, and you are also seeing that boy? That… monster?” Mommy dearest was three seconds away from smoke coming out of her ears, dad’s face displayed an interesting mix of terror and fury. And you… you were finally fed up with all of this.

“No, mom, you’re mistaken,” you spoke slowly as the rational part of your brain begged you not to do what you were about to do. “I’m living with four men, all vampires…”

“Don’t say it,” Marshall broke into your thoughts, “please. They’ll never forgive you. Think about this.”

He was right, of course, and you should think about this a while longer. Blowing up your relationship with your parents on a whim was probably not a great idea, not to mention that they were only here because Katie was such a bitch. And Marshall was right: they’d never forgive you.

“After everything we’ve given you, everything we’ve done for you… we let you go to college!” Your dad spoke through gritted teeth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “And you thank us by getting involved with these miscreants? You’re coming home, you ungrateful little whore!”

He raised a hand to hit you, but Marshall was faster. Of course he was faster. As soon as your father’s hand connected with Walter’s body, you heard a strange, loud tick — one that reminded you of the electric fences around your old neighbor’s yard. Whatever it was, it made your father retreat.

“Marshall…” You reached for him, only to be pulled back by August.

“Don’t touch him right now,” he warned you quietly. “You’ll get hurt.”

“He attacked me!” your father screamed — presumably mostly at your mother, but who knew…

“Young lady, you are coming home with us,” your mother said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Back to where it’s safe, far away from these abominations.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon.” Your father seemed to have forgotten the mysterious incident with Marshall, who had now reluctantly stepped aside and seemed to have regained his composure. “Do not go against your mother, young lady, or…”

“Or what? You’ll hit me again? I don’t think any of them will let that happen,” you said, gesturing around you at the guys. “And I don’t think I will, either. I’m not going anywhere. I belong here.”

“You belong with your family,” your father snarled.

“I believe I just said that.” Tears escaped your eyes as you said it.

“You’re truly choosing these creatures over your own flesh and blood?” your father inquired angrily.

“Oh they’re more my blood than you can possibly imagine.” And that was the precise moment all remaining bridges went up in flames. Had your mother been wearing pearls, she’d be clutching them, and your dad… The anger in his face disappeared, making room for a completely blank expression that carried more hatred than anything you’d ever seen before.

“You’re feeding them.” Not a question, very much an accusation. And a correct one at that. Your father didn’t need an answer. “We’re done here.”

“Dad…”

“You are no daughter of mine,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I thought we could save you, but this sin will never be forgiven.”

They left quietly, leaving the five of you behind in your own bubble of deafening silence.

It took a while for you to speak. “Mike,” you whispered, “I’m going to get so totally unreasonably mad at you. I’m already sorry, and I won’t mean a word of whatever I’m about to say…”

“That’s okay, Sweetcheeks. Kinda deserve it.”

“I… you…” But whatever words you had planned on throwing at him got caught in your throat, and before you fully realized you were moving, you were on your way to your bedroom, where you dropped down on the bed, no longer able to fight back your tears.

Some time went by and the mattress dipped next to you, and two arms wrapped around you. Mike. Then again, and another pair of arms. Sherlock.

“Can we…”

“Get in here, both of you,” you grumbled. This bed was not big enough for all of you, but fuck that.

Marshall got in behind Mike, August behind Sherlock.

“Hm, this hasn’t happened in forty years,” Marshall mused as he squeezed both you and Mike close.

“What the hell happened in the eighties, damn,” you laughed.

“We could show you,” Mike said as he snuggled closer to you, suggestive eyebrow wiggle included.

“I have no problem with the cuddling, but if this turns into an orgy, I’m gone,” Sherlock warned half-jokingly.

They all laughed. Half-heartedly at first, but soon… the sound of them was genuine and deep and warm, like a blanket and a warm bath, all at the same time.

“Did I fall asleep?” It was getting dark outside, so you must have, right? Sherlock was still holding you, but Mike was gone. Apparently, Marshall had taken his place.

“You did, darling,” Sherlock answered. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird…” As was to be expected after such an intense break up with your parents. “Is it bad that I don’t feel as bad as I think I should feel? Where’s Mike?”

“He had to get out of the house. He feels guilty,” August said calmly.

“I couldn’t have bluffed my way out of this forever,” you sighed. “And I know they’re not going to change. I’m so sorry for everything they said about you.”

“I’d say we’ve heard worse, but… it was up there. For me, at least.” Mike. Standing in the doorway one moment, sitting at the foot of the bed the next. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t caught that cup…”

“Like I said, Mikey… I couldn’t have kept this from them. Even if this had gone over well, Katie would have told them eventually.” You reached for him, and he immediately took that to mean ‘please dive on top of me this instant, preferably face-first into my cleavage’. It did not mean that, but it was fine. More than fine, even. You ran a hand through his messy curls and smiled at your favorite idiot.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” You were fairly sure you’d never completely grow used to sweet August.

“Someone could explain to me what the hell was going on with” — you turned around so you were facing Marshall — “you… And then we can get to our movie night, maybe?” Mike immediately jumped up, mumbling something about snacks, and disappeared.

“Right, that…” Marshall said. “I can tell you, but I can also show you… I promise I won’t hurt you.”

With your curiosity thoroughly piqued, how could you refuse? You put your arm on the covers like he asked, and gasped in surprise when he ran a hand over it. Little… pricks, of some kind, stung your skin as he moved his hand. It felt like…

“Electricity?” you asked. Marshall nodded. “You tased my dad?”

“I suppose you could say that,” he responded calmly — maybe too calmly for someone who was admitting to electrocuting your father. “It’s not that dramatic, love.” Right. Mind reading. “As far as we know, I can manipulate existing electrical currents.”

“Can you turn the lights off?” you blurted out. They flickered for a moment, and he smiled at you. So, yes. He could.

“I don’t know how it works, just that it does,” he shrugged — for as far as possible when one is lying in bed, anyway.

A dirty smirk revealed he knew what you were thinking. “Pondering the possibilities, are we?” he said softly as he ran a hand over your arm again. The feeling raised goosebumps all over your arm. “We’ll continue that experiment at a time when it doesn’t make Sherlock insanely uncomfortable.”

“Sorry, Sherlock,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright, darling,” he replied. “We should join Mike, I think he’s done setting up.”

Marshall carried you to the living room and pulled you into his side as he sat down on the couch, while August put your feet in his lap. Mike, who just came back with a cup of tea for you, whined softly.

“Do you want attention?” you asked with a smile, already knowing what the answer would be. Mike nodded furiously. You gestured at the floor in front of the couch. “Come sit here. You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

You’d asked the guys a million times if they weren’t uncomfortable on the floor, and they’d sworn they weren’t, but you still felt slightly awkward asking Mike to sit there. He hummed softly when you ran your fingers through his hair, and reluctantly reached for the remote.

“Movie?”

[misspearly1]

Day Nineteen: Titty Fucking - Pero Tovar

Kinktober22 List

WC: 2.4k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Established Relationship. Playfighting + Tickling. Smut. Titty Fucking. Oral. (M Receiving) Dirty talk & Degrading remarks (Pero calls reader a slut). Praising kink. Daddy Kink (Reader calls Pero Papi). Hints of breeding kink. Mentions of wanting kids. AN: Oh, I've been looking forward to this fic! I've never wrote anything regarding titty fucking before, but I enjoyed it. I hope you do too, my loves.

-

It seems uncanny to peg Pero Tovar as the sweet and playful type. Not many would agree. They would agree that his personality matches the cold and ruthless skill he has when wielding a sword but suppose all it really took for that sweet side of him to come out and play was the right woman. And you are that woman. 

Two years ago, Pero laid the sword down and bought a little cottage with you on the outskirts of a village in his motherland, and life since then has been good to you both. There isn’t a need to steal or kill to make a living anymore. You’ve settled down in a place that’s home; that you and Pero have made a home. He works at the local butchers, and you work from home, sewing and knitting the day away to sell clothing to the villagers for extra coins. 

It's a good life that you both live, and the only downside is that you don’t get to see William as often as you’d like to. He went back to China to be with his one true love Lin Mae, and you miss him dearly, as does Pero, but any day now he is due to return for a visit with Lin and their baby boy. You received word almost twelve months back about the arrival of their firstborn and their plans to come for a visit when he turns one. 

Meanwhile, you and Pero have been keeping yourselves busy by prepping day and night for their visit. The cottage you bought is small; two bedrooms, one bath, kitchen and dining areas, then the living room with big open fields all around the outside. You’ve been preparing by working on an extension. It wasn’t easy. Gathering the money for materials was difficult, but you both made ends meet and have been working hard every day. 

Now your cottage is double the size it once was. It’s spacious enough to fit two families inside and more. Outback is where all of your crops are, fenced off and protected, but out front is just big open plains of land for the eyes to enjoy for miles and miles. You and Pero are in the big open fields this evening, catching a break under the shade of a large oak tree after completing all the finishing touches for William and his family's arrival. 

“We did a good job, right amor?” The man asks while gazing across the land, his fingers rubbing circles on your arms across his chest as you cuddle him from behind. As much as you love to feel his brute strength pressed against your back in a hug, nothing beats the sight of seeing Pero physically melt when you lay behind him like this, embracing him instead. 

“Of course, we did a good job,” You tut lightly, as if disgusted with his question, though the warm smile on your lips betrays you. “Did you knock your head today and forget that we did?” You joke, eliciting the man’s body to shake with a soft chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head. Upon feeling the ambience change with high spirits, you ask another question. “Are you satisfied that we did a good job, Pero?” 

“Si bebita - I am.” He takes a long inhale of air and exhales breathily with a smile, though you were feeling playful and decided to stir him up a little. “Very well then,” You conclude with a berated tone. “Doubt loves to eat, so don’t feed it. Ok mister?” 

“Ok, señorita (ok, miss).” Pero laughs and tilts his head to look at your face, amusement of your words and tone of voice evident in his expression. He liked the authority in your tone; liked your cute attempt to be strict with him. “Chica mandona hoy. Me gusta (bossy girl today. I like it).”

“Oh, did you just call me bossy?” You gasp exaggeratedly, eyes widening like you were insulted. “I’ll show you bossy, Pero Tovar.” Darting your fingers to his ribcage, you tickle his skin and laugh at the way his body instantly reacts by jerking away from your touch. The man reaches for your hands through a rage of uncontrollable laughter, but you’re too quick for him and change direction. 

Prodding your fingers into his armpits now, your cheeks burn with merriment at the sweet giggly sounds he makes. “Fallarme! (Fuck!)” He yells with a smile, his beautiful brown eyes sparkling with hilarity from your actions, but you were getting too ahead of yourself, and it quickly became too much for him. Pero grabbed your hands swiftly and started to move, no doubt to get you back, but you were just as quick at escaping him. 

“No! I’m sorry!” You bark out a meaningless apology while crawling away from the tree trunk. You weren’t sorry at all for tickling him, you were just saying sorry in hopes that he'll show some mercy. Which he doesn’t. Just as quick as you made a dash for it, Pero turns and grabs your ankle, pulling you back to him.

“Oh no you don’t. Get back here.” He growls with laughter, “chica tonta (silly girl). You want to mess around, huh?” Yanking you around to lay on your back, he was forceful with his actions but not hurtful, though it sparked sexual excitement to run its course through your body and straight to your core. You like it when he gets playfully rough. 

The man enacted his revenge, tickling all of your most sensitive areas and taking pleasure in the way you squealed with laughter for him to stop. He didn’t of course, but he instead opted to drag it out as long as he could, watching your pretty face burn with joyous giggles as you fought him, which therefore only made it worse as Pero fought back. What started off as an innocent play between you and your beloved, quickly became something filthy and vulgar. 

Pero was tickling you, but he had moved up your body and carefully distributed his weight onto your stomach to pin your arms above your head when suddenly, he became aroused with thought. The tickling stopped, thankfully, but you saw him looking down at your breasts from above with a fiery look in his eyes. He thought about how perfectly his cock would fit between them. The man even tilted his head with a crooked brow, picturing the sight in his mind. 

“Oh no. I recognise that look, mister.” You scold, acting like you're not happy with that look you’re all too familiar with. Not only can you see Pero eyeing your breasts up and down, but you can see a tent starting to grow in his slacks too. He’s thinking dirty, and you love that he is. In fact, the man is thinking so hard with a smirk on his lips that he didn’t even hear what you said. 

“A penny for your thoughts, mi amor?” You ask, speaking a little louder this time in an effort to actually penetrate his dirty mind. Pero snaps out of it and looks up into your eyes, the irises expanding with lust as he smiles bashfully for being called out. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are, cariño.” He replies with a truth to disguise what’s really on his mind. 

“Hm. Care to elaborate Tovar?” You tease him skilfully. “I don’t believe that’s what you were thinking about.” You wanted to know what he was thinking about your breasts. You saw the look in his eyes, see it every day as a matter of fact. The man loves your boobs and will play with them at every given chance. If you were to choose only one weapon to defeat Pero Tovar, then that would be your breasts as they always manage to render him weak in the knees. 

“No?” Pero raises both brows and smirks at your question to know exactly what he was thinking about. He’d love to share, love to enact his dirty minded thoughts, but it’s something new for him and for you. But when you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding all innocent and sweet-like, it only fuels those sudden desires to slot his dick between plush breasts. 

“I want to put my cock right here-” He points to the middle of your chest, “-and fuck your tits until I come, querida.” 

“Oh, Pero.” You pout and bat your eyelashes, wiggling your upper body purposely so your boobs jiggle for him. “Why didn’t you just say so?” You ask rhetorically, then gaze at him with big doe eyes, the man's chest rising and falling heavily with your interest in the idea. He thought you’d shoot him down, but apparently not. You saw the way his eyes lit up; saw the way he was taken aback by your answer to what he wants to do, and you couldn’t help but find it so sexy to see him surprised and aroused that you want this too. “Well, what are you waiting for-” You lick your lips slowly, speaking with a seductive tone. “Fuck my tits, papi.” 

“Dios mío! (oh my God!)” He chokes out a grunt, brows pulling together as his cock twitches inside his pants. “Say that again.” He moans - actually moans. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, it was just for fun, you didn’t know he would actually like the term ‘papi’, but now that you know he does, you intend to use it more often. 

“Fuck my tits.” You moan too, breathily and wanton, brows contorting with bliss. “Fuck my tits until you come papi, please.” Your pleading sends the man over the edge, makes him growl and release the beast inside. Primal urges buried deep within the man are brought up to the surface with your sweet voice calling him that one word. It brings out the urge to pump you full every day until you're round and plump with his baby. 

“Ay, carajo (Holy shit).” Pero curses, removing one of his hands from your wrists to palm his aching bulge. “Ok bebé. Te follaré las tetas. (Ok, baby. I will fuck your tits).” He opens his pants and free his cock, licking the palm of his hand before pumping him length. “Open your shirt, hermosa. Go on, good girl.” You blush from the praise. Doing as you're told and popping the buttons on your shirt open; your breasts spill out with your nipples hardening as they’re exposed to the cool evening breeze. 

“Pero.” You whine, hearing him grunt from above as he fucks his fists. “You too. Take your shirt off, sexy.” Licking your lips with the request, you reach out and take hold of his cock while he pulls his shirt over his head. He moans out from the unexpected touch, stomach tensing as rolls his hips into your strokes. “Allow me, mi futura esposa (my future wife).” He looks down at you, moving your hands to the side of your tits. “Hold them here for me, like this.” 

“Si Pero.” You sigh breathily, still doing as you're told like a good girl. He leans down to spit on his cock, then spits between your breasts before you push them together. “Open that slut mouth too.” He growls, placing his hand atop of yours before notching the tip of his cock inside the little pocket your boobs were creating. You smirk at the man then open your mouth for him, your throaty moans escaping you as he rolls his hips forward. 

“There you go, that’s it.” He rewards you with his words after you suck the tip of him when it breaches through the other side. He didn’t even have to tell you. Picking up his pace and panting with each thrust, Pero slips one of his hands around the back of your head, helping you meet his actions halfway as his orgasm begins to build. “It’s so soft, cariño.” He babbles brokenly, voice cracking with his throat becoming dry. “Merida! Your tits are so soft… And warm…That tongue. It’s so wet. Don-shit! Don’t stop.” 

“I… wouldn’t… dream of… it.” You reply between each thrust, taking the tip of him in your mouth each time with a swirl on your tongue. The noises you made were obscene, the gasps and moans reaching his ears working to push him closer and closer to the edge. You loved seeing him like this above you; loved seeing the way his face transforms as he loses himself. His movements became sloppy, laboured and ragged, chasing his high as he drank in your beauty with his eyes. 

“Te amo (I love you).” He hisses, jaw clenching as his brows pulls together. His peak is nearing. You can tell. Watching the muscles in his biceps flex as he grabs your boobs bruisingly, you moan out from the contact. “In my mouth.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. “Come in my mouth.” 

“My pleasure, bonita (beautiful).” Pero replies, his mouth falling open into the shape of an ‘o’ as his hips stutter. You open your mouth, holding his line of sight through half lidded eyes seconds before hot ropes of his seed spill past your lips. You even stick your tongue out, humming with content as you feel him painting the inside of your mouth with his creamy spend. Audibly gulping his load back, you lick your lips and smile at him. “Thank you, papi.”  

“You don’t know how dangerous that word is, bebita.” He chuckles light-heartedly. Swinging one leg away from your body, he moves down to lay at your side then pulls you to face him. You gaze at him with a smug look on your face, knowing exactly how dangerous that word is and why. “I do know.” You say, self-satisfaction evident in your tone. “I know why calling you papi feels so special.” 

Pero shakes his head, disbelieving that you really know what he wants, but you do. You noticed it a while back when William's letter came through about the birth of his baby and you just thought it was a passing phase. Like a cloud of baby fever overtaking him, but that’s clearly not the case. He wants to be the father of your baby. It wasn’t just a passing phase. He’s thought about it ever since he fell in love with you, and in the last year, he has dreamed every night of burying his cock deep inside your cunt to plant his seed. But you don’t want a baby. 

Well, that’s what he thinks and he’s wrong. You do want a baby, his babies.

-

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[longeyelashedtragedy]

how did u fall into lamps

O gather round children, it's a longer story than some may think

the date was july 16, 2022, the place baltimore maryland, the event arsenal vs everton. i went with my friend nina, and while we were waiting for granit and the gang to come and warm up, i messaged our group chat with our mutual friend who was like, a hardcore liverperson from the gerlonso days, to tell her where we were, and when hearing we were seeing everton she said something along the lines of "oh, Fat Frank the Tory!" i was like oh...there's definitely some backstory and some lore here that i have no knowledge about and now i'm amused and intrigued/

right before the game started, the coaches came out, and i was struck stupid by mikel in his all black shortsleeves hairy armed top energy off the charts charisma passionate glory. we weren't sitting that close to the pitch, but it was still so easy to pick up on his vibe. it was clearly not "just a friendly" to him.

i was then kind of just as struck by the contrast in the two uh gentlemen who'd just come out. mikel in the sleek black, lamps chonky in the weirdly overly casual everton summeroutfit. the contrast was immediately appealing and so were the aesthetics. (i'm so consistent--we all know as far as looks go everton franko is my favorite franko lol) exhibit a:

we beat everton 2-0 and the whole time mikel was passionately charging around as he does and lamps was just sitting on the bench looking so annoyed and so defeated and i was like who is this chonky sadboy...i'm Fascinated and Pleased. like honestly, being the football toddler that i am, i knew very little about him. HOWEVER that didn't stop me from bringing him up frequently enough in conversation to nina that she was like FYI you talk about this man a lot!

but let's fastforward to one of the most distressing months of my life AKA may 2023. granit transfer rumors were ripping brutally through my life and they really seemed real and as we all know i was crying about it literally every day! i think by some point my brain was just in desperate need of something else to think about, and conveniently, i saw the god amongst fic authors @protect-daniel-james 's fic "Just," and not gonna lie, just the summary alone got me, but the fic finished what the summary started and i read it like 7584930 times, plus a couple others that had popped up in the tag after that (shoutout to @new-berry 's "Proud of heart (pride of London)" which was a fantastic twist on their relationship and ends with a BIBLE VERSE). then i read the NYCFC-related interview with him where he mentioned that one of his favorite NYC restaurants was this one that's like a 5 minute walk from me, and the very crude foundation of what turned into Digestif started forming in my mind. my summer vacation started just a couple weeks later, during which i did the world's fastest speedrun of a Person, and the Lampardverse began to gather strength.

the rest is Long Eyelashed History!

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

Dear teens following me mainly for fandom reasons,

My young adult years were fucked up. Your young adulthood won't have to look like mine. Be reassured.

However, in the event that like me you get hit by PTSD/C-PTSD - and I don't think anyone can be prepared for that - please take your time to heal and rest. One of the worst mistakes "I" made was to force myself to try a new uni only one month after I stopped exploding. Taking a gap year just to do nothing and lay around was seen as a bad idea, so I went back to school when September rolled around. But my brain wasn't ready yet. I may have started eating again, I may have stopped crying every waking moment (not an exaggeration), but I was traumatised and a brand new person and I needed time to recuperate.

Sure that university course happened to suck a little bit of ass, but most importantly, I couldn't handle it at all. My brain was still strained, in survival mode. I couldn't talk to my classmates. I couldn't handle one hour of class without having to soothe myself from a panic attack before it ended. I couldn't stand up once I got home in the evening. It was too tiring for me. I hadn't recuperated yet. When I realised I was going to jump out of a window any time now, since I didn't actually want to die, I dropped out. Again.

And that traumatised me. For years afterwards I was someone who dropped out twice and was unable to handle university. School phobia? Plain ole stupid? I didn't have the strength for school and I didn't have the strength for work. When I did work, I'd go home exhausted and I couldn't live.

It took a few years to be able to look back and realise how close my "explosion" had been from starting that specific school. Looking back at how HORRIBLE the few months I spent barely surviving, in an intense mental health crisis were, and how close they were from starting that stupid art school, it seems obvious that I couldn't have been ready yet. I genuinely couldn't have been. It's just that back then, I was pressured into pretending I could go back to normal. And it traumatised me. I thought I was unfit for society. For a few years, it convinced me I was someone who was unable to study, when the truth was that my first year of faculty was when I was working up to an explosion, and my first year of private university was when I barely starting to gather my pieces.

What I really needed was to stand around doing nothing. Recuperate for A FEW YEARS. Yes, a decade of trauma will require a few years to recuperate from. Just like a good night's sleep after a long day. I needed to stew on it for a few years. I can't help that I had this experience, and it means that my life has to start a few years later than the majority.

And it's okay. I'm starting to realise that I have my entire life ahead of me. A life is way longer than the few years I've lived. I have no idea what my future looks like, but I'm starting to realise that I have one. Today, I don't think it'd be that shocking if I "started my life" not long before I turn thirty, even though I know people younger than me who are finishing their prestigious studies. I have C-PTSD. They don't. I can't compare myself to them. I need to survive my illness. It's a different life. In fact, I can't imagine being 22 and being about to get started, because that's plain unrelatable!

What is or isn't too tiring won't look the same for everyone with PTSD. I personally was already a candidate to struggle with schooling for a few reasons, one of which being that I had already experienced burn out in high school due to being very, unluckily, sick, the other being that I was planning to run away at 18, never planned on going to uni in my head, and I wound up being freed only a few months before my 18th birthday with a sudden prospect to spend my next few years studying. Someone else might be hit by it at a different age. Someone else might be perfectly fine with going to uni but struggle with other things.

And I'll say one last thing - those few years of "standing around, doing nothing" haven't looked like letting my depression win over me. Never for too long at a time. It has looked like going on stupid little walks for my stupid little mental health, chatting with friends over Discord, watching my favourite shows and dreaming of seeing a concert of my favourite bands. Since I'm a creative person, it has looked like drawing, writing, making stupid little vocal synth covers the entire time. In fact, in the middle of my explosion, whenever I could gather just a little bit of strength to do it, I would draw. Focus on what I drew and rest my mind for just a little bit at a time.

And I'm not even that good at drawing, but it's not what mattered. (And the pieces I created were pretty darn good. But I think if they were really bad, I'd still look back at them fondly, because they'd be a product of my attempts to take care of myself, to survive a horrible, confusing time.) I wasn't able to write because I'm someone who pours her heart out into her writing - and my heart was suffering too much to work. So it happened to look like drawing for me, because drawing just so happened to rest my mind. It could be playing basketball for you.

Your explosion will be caused by something different from mine. The small things you need to make it through each day will look different. You might be a different age. It may last a different amount of years. But what will be true either way is that you'll have been horribly sick, terrified, confused and tired for a long time, and you will need some time to heal.

And you will heal.

Dear adults who follow me, you may have followed me a very long time ago, when I was living in abuse. You continued to follow me when I was freed, when I was working my way up to an explosion, when I exploded and then for the few years of slowly handsewing myself back together that ARE following. I'm like a force of nature you can't escape

[elusivefics]

Solstice Spark

- elucien fanfic

The Solstice dinner was at the height of excitement. Chatters rose as the table vanished and everyone went to the living room where the tree stood. A childlike glee glowed among the faces of the inner court as Nyx laughed and squealed at the sparkling lights. It was his first Solstice and though he would most likely not remember anything, his aunts and uncles wouldn’t hear any of it. Every single one of them were bursting at the seams, competing as to who could give Nyx the best gift.

“But just look at these hooded bat robes that I got for him,” Elain exclaimed. “Nyx is going to be just like his mommy and daddy, aren’t you, Nyx? Aren’t you,” Elain cooed over the baby, tickling his cheeks.

Lucien, who was engaged in a political discussion with Rhysand and Az, laughed from across them before registering who made the joke.

Since the war ended, Lucien had always been invited to these dinners. He was Feyre’s friend after all. Her sister’s mate or not, Lucien is family and Feyre wanted to celebrate along with him. This meant that throughout the dinner, Elain was pale and drawn, as per her usual demeanor when Lucien was around.

His sudden laugh shocked both of them. Elain’s pretend-haughtiness about her gift was forgotten as she withdrew to herself. Everyone could feel the awkwardness of the situation, momentarily leaving a pin-drop silence before Cassian swooped in with his customized mini swing set where they could apparently dangle Nyx and swing him back and forth. It felt like the Couldron suddenly breathed life back into the celebration.

“Cassian!” Feyre exclaimed. “Nyx is barely a year old! He’s not using that!”

Cassian grinned cheekily at her as if saying that it will happen, she just wouldn’t know it.

When the gift-giving was finished, a comfortable silence blanketed the house as they sat in front of the fire.

Lucien saw this as an opportunity to approach Elain. He had something to discuss with her. She was by herself on one side of the room, picking up the Solstice balls that fell when Nyx played with them and put them back on the tree. He rose and with his lithe gait, walked towards her without anyone noticing. Elain was just finished hooking in the last ball when she felt rather than saw Lucien’s presence. With pale face and startled eyes, she turned toward him.

“Elain,” Lucien started. “I--,” seeing her face that wanted nothing to do with him, he paused. “I would like to speak with you. Somewhere private, if that’s all right with you?”

Elain nodded. They went out to the veranda where there is open space that is far enough from the others that they wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop.

When the door closed, Lucien was facing the vast snow, his eyes reflecting the colorful lights of the homes from down below. With Elain behind her, he started, “We’ve received reports about the unrest in the human lands. Rhys wants me to take a look. It’ll probably take a month, but I will go there and investigate.”

Elain didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t her business nor his to tell her his whereabouts.

“W-why are you telling me this?”

“As you know, Night Court will be hosting this year’s Summit. After I’m done checking out what’s wrong in the human lands, I will be here for the preparations. It will be busy and there will barely be an available time for me, but if it’s alright with you, I-” his back tensed as he paused. As if he had gathered the strength he needed, he continued. “I’d like to ask if... maybe you’d want to spend time to--I mean, if you want to hang out and maybe get to know each other.”

“Why?” Elain asked softly. “Do you think because we’re mates it entitles you to my time?”

Lucien tensed up further. He held the railings in a tight grip as if it was the only thing holding him together and keeping him upright. “I just want us to get to kn--”

“I don’t want that! I’m never gonna want that! I want you to stay away from me. Stop coming here, stop giving me gifts, just stop all of it! I’m never gonna accept you as mate!”

The disgust in Elain’s voice clanged through Lucien before it was carried away by the wind. Filled with a sudden burst of anger, Lucien turned towards her.

“That’s not what I’m asking! You think I want this any more than you do?” Lucien seethed. For a brief second, Elain saw flames in his eyes before she dropped her gaze but pushed her indignant chin out. “I feel just as shackled to you as you feel to me. Rejecting the bond is always on the table. All I want is for us to at least get to know and respect each other! Like normal people!”

Lucien let out a breath. When he got everything he’s been holding off his chest, he really looked at Elain and was shocked to see her so pale, like blood was sucked out of her, and she was shaking so hard. Her hands were curled into tight fists as if doing so was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“I don’t want to know you! I don’t want anything to do with you! Do you hear me? I just want you to stop all of it and stay the hell away from me!”

He never expected her to accept the bond. He was hoping that perhaps talking to her would allow them to start being amicable toward each other. He wasn’t expecting it to escalate this fast.

“Elain, I--” Elain was shaking so hard. From anger, from spite—Lucien cannot tell which. Seeing her like this felt like being doused in ice cold water. Lucien could feel the intense emotions radiating from her. She was bristling in anger.

“Elain,” Lucien tried again.

“Elain, I’m sorry. I never wanted to force the bond on you. If I ever made you feel that way, I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted. I just,” he grasped for the right words helplessly. “I just want us to be civil.”

A beat of silence passed. Elain squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn’t stop shaking, no matter how much she tells herself to get it together.

“Elain,” Lucien called out to her, his face scrunched in concern, worry filling his veins and sending his heart to a gallop.

As he said her name, Elain, despite her efforts against it, looked up at him. She met his eyes and let out a gasp.

“Elain!” Lucien surged toward her as she swooned.

“Don’t touch me!” Lucien stepped away in shock at the vehemence in her voice. But when she swooned a second time, Lucien had no choice but to catch her before she fell and hit the floor.

When Lucien caught her in his arms, her skin was burning.

“I said leave me alone!” Elain shouted, her voice taking up a notch, on the verge of hysterics.

“Elain, please, just let me help you inside. I’ll call someone and leave you alone, just let me help you inside,” He pressed his palm on her forehead. “You’re feverish.”

“I said leave me al--” their eyes accidentally met and Lucien turned rigid. What he saw in her eyes shocked him to his core.

“Elain--”

Like a dam bursting, Elain couldn’t stop the sobs from coming out of her. Shame flowed thru her, coloring her earlier pale face with the deepest red.

“Lucien,” Elain gasped. She dug her nails deep into Lucien’s shoulders, fear coating her voice as she tried to press as much of her body against him.

“Lucien, I--Lucien I can’t, I--” she let out a sob. Her tears kept flowing as one of her hands left his shoulder to grasp his neck and feel his hair, trying to draw him closer.

“Elain, look at me,” Lucien was shaking as he tried to keep her still, but she was moving against him, her cheeks rubbing against his as she gasped for air and sobbed in his ears.

“Elain, look at me,” flame sizzled in his eyes as he grasped the back of her neck and forced her to look into his eyes. “I said look at me.” Her shock at the dominance she heard in his voice cut thru the frenzied fog in her mind.

“Look at me, Elain. Do you feel it?”

Elain looked at him and felt his entire body shaking against her. His skin was so hot yet her contact with it brought a relief against her equally burning skin. At the thought, the feeling inside her intensified, but she can’t seem to do anything but focus on his entire being.

“I feel it, too, Elain,” Lucien told her softly. “I feel like something is grating inside me and I’m seconds away from tearing my own skin apart to relieve myself of whatever this is.”

Elain was too astonished to say anything. “Do you hear me, Elain? It’s just a physical reaction. I feel it, too. But I’m not gonna do anything about it because I know you don’t want it and we’re both not ready for it. That you fought it so hard means it’s the same with you, okay? You have nothing to be afraid of.”

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. “All those times,” Lucien smoothed back the hair that clung to her face. “Is this the reason why?”

Lucien drew her against his chest as she cried.

“Lucien, I’m so sorry. For tonight. A-and, everything I said, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Shh,” Lucien stroked her head gently. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Maybe now that we’ve acknowledged it, it wouldn’t be so hard to control it.”

“I feel so--I feel so ashamed. And embarrassed. Throwing myself at you... I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Lucien whispered. Her head safely tucked beneath his chin.

“And I respect you, so much,” Elain said, hiccuping against his chest. “It’s why I hate it. I hated myself so much. I don’t want to step over your boundaries like that. I’m truly so sorry.”

“I told you not to worry about it,” he chuckled softly. “I’ve always known I’m too irresistible anyway. It’s nothing new.”

Elain rolled her eyes though he can’t see it. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Oh well, I wouldn’t have believed it so if not for the events of tonight.” Elain could feel the cheeky grin on his face.

“Shut up,” Elain thumped his chest lightly. Hearing him laugh, she freed herself slightly from his embrace to look at his face. “That’s not funny at all,” she tried to tell him sternly.

Realizing they’re still in each other’s arms, they both stepped away from the other—their cheeks turning redder by the minute.

“Well,” Lucien scratched his head. “Maybe we should head inside, the cold is getting too much.”

Looking at anywhere but him, Elain said, “Y-yeah, you’re right.”

Lucien opened the door to let her in first. Before he could fully close the door, she called out to him.

“Hey, Lucien.”

“Hm?” Lucien turned toward her.

“I’ll take you up on your offer,” Elain smiled shyly at him, but her eyes were clear, shining, and beckoning to his soul. “You know, when you get back.”

Forgetting the open door for a moment, the wind blew in gusts behind him yet all he felt was the warmth of her smile.

“Then I’ll look forward to it,” Lucien smiled back at her, something akin to joy filling his heart for the first time in a very long time.

[mackerel-draws]

Setting: A calm inn by the sea, table outside, light clouds of snow, Noontime Characters: Aidann, Maverick Context: Discussing the living situation of Maverick

///////

“Here, try some of this.” She holds out a fresh steaming mug of hot chocolate, laden with powdered sugar and ginger powder on top. The two are seated by the pier, enjoying the sights for the day. Their search for proper housing had borne no fruit, with almost all vacancies swiftly filled due to the upcoming Year’s End Carnival.

Maverick gingerly cradles the mug, enjoying the residual warmth before taking a tentative sip. Yet again, it tastes like biting into air. Nothing at all. He shakes his head.

“Well, I tried. You really have no way to taste things at all?”

“Yes.” Short and concise. Speech is also something he is slowly recovering. Perhaps in time, he would entirely recover his tongue.

The harpy gives a good sip of the chocolate before laying her head on the table, staring into the gray horizon. Seabirds hover overhead, whistling in discordance alongside one another. Maverick takes another happy sip from his steadily depleting mug. Both of them ceased to speak another word for a while.

“I could sleep somewhere else tonight, so the lady upstairs won’t yell at you again,” Maverick suggests.

He had not been a polite guest at her apartment, due to the fact that he kept making a ruckus by talking with the kitchenware present. Enough tenants complained about the noise, and Aidann herself was almost kicked out before she greatly apologized to the landlady.

“No,” she sighs, “You don’t have to do that to yourself, Mav. Everyone deserves better.”

In fact, she would be willing to let him bunk with her for the next month, if it meant less time looking listlessly towards the flaky ceiling of her apartment. It had been amusing, watching him interact with the world like a lunatic, going towards strangers and asking them about their lives. He has yet to learn that no one wants to be read like a book.

“…” He finishes his chocolate, looking in the same direction as her. The wind slowly gains strength, blowing loose petals from nearby flower pots. No sound is present, save for the sea foam fizzling and popping down the pier.

“Do you think I could recover my memories?” He crosses his arms to rest on the table.

Two weeks later with no hint to his past life. All he could remember was the moment Aidann found him lying naked in the snow, somehow unaffected from the sheer amount of frost gathered around his fur. Nothing at all before that. She assumed that his magic is what saved him, at the cost of his memory.

A quick trip to the kingdom’s public records showed that he never had residency within Precrest, nor any record of birth and family. His name wasn’t even real, only given by Aidann so she could address him properly. She theorized that he was a foreigner, caught unawares by the sudden snowfall, but even the travel office couldn’t identify who he was from his ethnicity or his accent.

These were the facts:

He is a satyr, with deer-like qualities.

He had no memory of himself nor his past.

He couldn’t be found in any of the city’s records.

He had no characteristics for identification, almost like a blank canvas.

Still, they tried to search around the city for any sign or clue. Even putting up a notice, asking for information on the identity of Maverick. For now, they decided to find a place where he could stay, or even a job to work for money.

Maybe she could hire him for her nighttime excursions, but she shelved the thought for a last resort. Her career was dangerous and mildly illegal, but profitable. Still, she felt that her secret should be kept under wraps for now.

“Maybe.” She also finishes her mug, setting it aside to lounge in her chair as her talon latches onto a foot rest. She watches Maverick look intently at his empty mug, seemingly lost in conversation. Honestly, she’d seen weirder things in the city.

She wonders what sort of supposed conversation made him listen with full attention.

Time passes, and rays of light peek through tiny holes in the sky, calling forth the orange afternoon glow. People start to pass through the pier, enjoying the sights and food sold by the stalls which were gradually opening for tonight. A family of four applauds their child’s fire trick as he handles his magic with care. Chatter spreads through the air.

Maverick stands up, staring at the mug one last time before nodding. He looks at Aidann expectantly as she thanks the cafe owner for the drink.

“Could we go to the stalls?” He requests.

Talking to the cups was nice, but he didn’t learn anything satisfactory. They only told him about the owner’s supposed obsession with ceramic animals. Looking through the cafe's window for a moment showed rows and rows of tiny critters, shining from the afternoon sun.

He wanted to know more about the city, or even himself for that matter. Listening to the stories of every little thing was nice, but it wasn’t really necessary.

Perhaps he would have more luck with something older, like a historical artifact or an adequately sized book. With what he has in money, he would have no such luck. Perhaps looking at the products from nearby shops would help satiate his craving. He doesn’t need to buy anything after all.

“Do you need something to buy, Mav?” She sticks a claw into her coin pouch, tallying her money. “I think I might have enough for one little souvenir.”

Maybe one thing. “Yes, please.”

They enter what seems to be a tent, fitted with a metal frame that circles around the ceiling. Little suns and stars hang from it, shining due to candelabras placed near the opposite sides of the tent. A lycanthrope sits behind an oaken table, with wares displayed on little racks. Packs of cards, dice with varying sides, and even numerous board games are arranged in orderly disorder.

Behind them, the sun finally sets, painting the waters a purple hue.

“Welcome!” She gives a smile. Her claws spread outward, presenting her stock.

Maverick, not even a second later, immediately puts his cloven hands onto the variety, staring into each of them and making conversation. He gingerly replaces each item before moving on to the next.

“Oh!” She exclaims, rushing to rearrange her articles. Her fingers glow a muted purple, flying them back to their proper places. “Very touchy, that one. Don’t break anything, please!”

Before he could get to a fragile jar of plastic medals, Aidann snags a talon onto his collar, dragging him away from the poor stands.

“Sorry, he doesn’t understand personal space.” She glares at Maverick, who raises his arms in defense. She thinks he might need another lesson about social cues.

“I’m sorry, miss. I will not do it again.” Rehearsed, but he seems to be getting better every day.

“It’s alright with me, antlers.” She giggles, having already faced this situation before. Some people love to get a feel for the textures, apparently to check if they were official and untouched. A lot of her customers were usually hobbyists that dabbled into competitive play. “What catches your eye?”

“Do you have anything old I can see?” He glances around, seeing only freshly carved wood and paint in her stocks. Almost all of them are untouched and new, having only seen the tent since their creation.

“Hmm…” She scratches her chin before replying. “Well, I can’t say for sure, but I might have some old dice around here. They won’t cost much since they aren’t in mint condition.”

She digs around the crates behind her table, setting some paraphernalia aside until she finds what she was looking for. A dusty little chest that fits in the palms of her hand. With a flourish, she unlatches the hook and opens the box.

They find a set of red six-sided dice, lying on the felt interior. Minor scratches and nips are seen on almost every side. The paint of the notches which hold the numbers have faded a long time ago.

“Well, this looks older than time itself.” Aidann picks up both of the dice by her talons, inspecting their surfaces. She hands them to Maverick. “Is this alright for you?”

“…”

Like old and unearthed treasures, Maverick could feel them rousing from their long slumber. He felt giddy, having the opportunity to listen to what could potentially be good stories.

Then, like chopped wood and sandpaper, they speak.

Oh, oh? A visitor, after so long?

Ho, ho! Yes, even one that could talk to us!

Fret not, child, for we shall not fret as well.

Fret not, child, for we can see that you have something to ask of us.

‘Yes, I do. But before that, I feel that I must acquire you.’

Oh, oh? A new owner after so long?

Ho, ho! Yes, especially one that could talk to us!

He looks to the shopkeeper in gratitude.

“How much would these cost?” He places them back into the chest, closing the lid. “I think I found what I was looking for.”

“Erm…” She stares, amused at how long he stared at the dice. “Those wouldn’t happen to be… magical, would they?”

“Sorry, don’t worry about it,” Aidann reassures, growing more embarrassed by the minute. “I can pay for him.”

Her comment snaps her out of her reverie, taking a breath before answering back with a cheery smile.

“It’s only a mere silver for the box and the dice.” She holds out a paw. Aidann hands her the coin, letting Maverick take the box and put it in his pocket.

“Still, apologies for the disruption.” He says with a hint of shame.

“Ah, it’s no worries!” She waves her hands to clear away the mood. “I haven’t had such an unusual patron in a while, so don’t feel too bad!”

“Thank you for your time, miss.” Aidann waves her goodbye, exiting the tent first.

“…It has been nice, thank you, miss…?” He tries to find a name. He then realizes he hasn’t introduced himself. “Sorry, my name is Maverick.”

“Oh, I’m Roller!” She raises her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A handshake. He grasps it and gives a good fumbling.

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Enthusiasm decorates his tone, making his voice louder than usual. The sudden volume change makes her flinch.

"Good to know!" She rubs her ears, sensitive for a moment.

Once again, Aidann takes his collar from outside the tent, pulling him out.

“Don’t overstay your welcome,” she chastises, “You already gave her a good scare.”

“Apologies." He says bluntly. "May we go to your place again?”

She sighs in exasperation.

“Sure, but you’ll have to help me make dinner. There’s more to remember, and you might have something in your noggin that’s definitely useful.”

“Of course.” The tease flies over his head.

///////

[eggcatsreads]

January Reading Wrap-Up

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Favorite Read of the Month:

Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein (GR review)

Oct. 11th, 1943—A British spy plane crashes in Nazi-occupied France. Its pilot and passenger are best friends. One of the girls has a chance at survival. The other has lost the game before it's barely begun.

Code Name Verity is the heart-wrenching story of a woman captured by the Gestapo as a Nazi spy - and her confession.

I HIGHLY recommend going into this book blind, without looking at ANY spoilers as I guarantee you will not see everything that's going on. This is also a book that really lends to a re-read, which is what this was for me. I had read this book last year, and even still this was still a top read for me - despite knowing what was going to happen. This book has a lot of hidden clues throughout that you only really catch on a re-read, but absolutely do not spoil the book for yourself. Trust me.

The beginning portion of this book can be very slow and seem to drag on for a while. Believe me when I say you need to push past it and finish to the end. Once the second section of this novel starts it's a whirlwind and everything you thought you understood for the first part is suddenly turned on it's head.

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Other Five Star Reads:

Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham (GR review)

The story of Chernobyl is more complex, more human, and more terrifying than the Soviet myth. A harrowing and compelling narrative which brings the 1986 disaster to life through the eyes of the men and women who witnessed it firsthand.

I highly suggest this read if you have ever been interested in the Chernobyl disaster and wanted a nonfiction book that brought it to life, and also explained nuclear physics in a way that even non-nuclear physicists could understand. I mostly listened to this through audiobook, and there were times I was glad I was working alone because my jaw literally dropped and I gasped and reacted out loud to what was going on.

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The Gathering Dark: An Anthology of Folk Horror by Multi

Hauntings, and a variety of horrifying secrets, lurk in the places we once called home. These stories shed a harsh light on the scariest tales we grew up with.

What it says on the tin. An anthology of horror stories by various authors (many of which I personally love their other works). If you like horror, especially creeping gothic horror, check out these stories. It's a quick read, and a fun way to bring some spice into your life without the commitment.

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Rest of Books Read Under the Cut:

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Radium Girls by Kate Moore

The inspiring young women exposed to the "wonder" substance of radium, and their awe-inspiring strength in the face of almost impossible circumstances. Their courage and tenacity led to life-changing regulations, research into nuclear bombing, and ultimately saved hundreds of thousands of lives.

Superheavy by Kit Chapman (GR review)

An in-depth look at how synthetic elements are discovered, why they matter and where they will take us. From the Cold War nuclear race to the present day, scientists have stretched the periodic table to 118 elements.

Mr. Humble and Dr. Butcher by Brandy Schillace

In the early days of the Cold War, a spirit of desperate scientific rivalry birthed a different kind of space not the race to outer space that we all know, but a race to master the inner space of the human body.

-----------------------

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐

The Shape of Darkness by Laura Purcell

As the age of the photograph dawns in Victorian Bath, silhouette artist Agnes is struggling to keep her business afloat. But then one of her clients is murdered shortly after sitting for Agnes, and then another, and another... Why is the killer seemingly targeting her business?

The Lost Girls of Paris by Pam Jenoff

Twelve women were sent to Occupied Europe as couriers and radio operators to aid the resistance, but they never returned home, their fates a mystery. 

Plastic Fantastic by Eugenie Samuel Reich

This is the story of wunderkind physicist Jan Hendrik Schön who faked the discovery of a new superconductor made from plastic.

The Lost City of the Monkey God by Douglas Preston

Since the days of conquistador Hernán Cortés, rumors have circulated about a lost city of immense wealth hidden somewhere in the Honduran interior, called the White City or the Lost City of the Monkey God.

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Rating: ⭐⭐

White Horse by Erika T. Wurth

Haunted by visions of her mother and hunted by this mysterious creature, Kari must search for what happened to her mother all those years ago. 

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All my reviews and opinions are my own, and if you liked something I didn't that's great! My rating system is super subjective (like all of them are) and I definitely don't like books others do, and that's fine since we're not all the same person, lol.

My ratings are generally:

5 stars: Books I enjoyed the entire time I read them. I had fun, it was exciting, and I wanted to continue reading. Many times, the difference between a 4 and 5 star read to me is simply the Vibes. If I had fun reading the book, or was really invested, I'll give it 5 stars even if it's not objectively That Great of a Book. If the Vibes say so, they say so.

4 stars: Great book, but there was simply something that didn't fully connect with me or there were a few slow spots. ALSO many of the debuts I read I tend to rate 4 stars, since they're a new author and I don't want to rate too harshly. 4 stars is my safe rating when I can't fully commit to a 5 stars, but it either wasn't "bad" enough or I don't want to be mean enough to rate anything lower.

3 stars: Run-of-the-mill. Nothing surprising. Book was read, but I could handle having not read it. If "Ehhh?" with a waving hand was a book.

2 stars: I disliked something about this book, and at times I may have finished it because I had already invested this much time into it. This book might have made me angry with something the author chose to do or include, but it never quite reached the spite reading stage.

1 star: I finished this book out of spite. If I could fight it in an alleyway I would. I wish I could bring back the tree that died to make this book so it could fight the author personally for doing this to it.

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Books read so far this year: 11

[ryukatters]

The Feels

A/N: My brain has been running on empty for MONTHS, depleted of brain juice. This is all I can offer for AOT pt 2 coming back. I’m just happy to see all my babies once again. They gave me the strength I needed to finish this in two days.

Credits: Gege Akutami because I slapped Eren’s face on top of that one Yuuji panel, also shoutout to my baby @alert-arlert for the inspiration! Please read her work that inspired me here! Also check out this by @lacheri. Also shoutout to Cherry for beta-ing this, ily.

Summary: In which one simple question alters the course of you and Eren’s friendship. Alternatively, “it started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?”

Content/warnings: modern! AU, fluff, this turned into smut really fast, k*ssing, friends 2 luvers, Eren’s kind of awkward, slight jealousy on Eren’s part, teasing, nipple play, dry humping, slight humiliation, cunnilingus, facesitting (eren’s a strong boy don’t worry), damn I just realized this bitch talks a lot, Eren...finishes in his pants, no penetration (aside from tongue and fingers hehe), mentions of overstimulation

Pairing: Eren x Fem-bodied! Reader

Word count: 2.7k

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to kiss one of our friends?”

You look up from your phone to stare at Eren, his expression unreadable. He’s not looking at you at all. His sharp profile punctures your field of vision. He’s sitting on the floor, shoulders hunched, while idly scrolling through some online shop on his laptop.

“N-no, at least I don’t think I have.” You watch his brows furrow, unsure if it’s because he came across a pair of kicks that he likes or because of your answer. “Do you mean in a romantic sense? Like if I’m interested in them?”

“No, like. Just out of pure curiosity.”

“Pure curiosity?” You stare at him, deadpan.

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the room. Eren has no idea why he asked that question in the first place. It’s a stupid question. Did he accidentally speak his thoughts? Maybe. And sure, he’s wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Plenty of times. Even things that went beyond the scope of kissing. More than he’d like to admit. But you don’t have to know that. Not right now, at least.

Eventually, he gathers up the courage to tear his gaze away from his screen to meet your eyes. He’s not sure what he expected to see, but seeing you try and read his expression made his heart race in his chest. Did you know what he was thinking? Are you thinking about what it’d be like to kiss one of your friends? Eren doesn’t even want to begin to think about the implications about the fact that he was one of your friends. He can’t believe he’s set himself up for failure with such an incriminating question. Eren wishes he can crawl under the couch and wither away.

You bark out a breathy laugh, catching Eren’s steady gaze. You pretend to mull over the question a little longer, but eventually ask:

“You think Jean would be a good kisser?”

“Jean?” Jean? Out of all the people you could’ve chosen, you chose Jean?

Eren would have let it slide if it was anyone else— Armin, Mikasa, Connie— okay maybe not Connie. But Jean? Please. Catch him on another day, then maybe.

“Eren?” Oh shit. Has it been that long since he said something?

“Yeah?”

“Something wrong?”

“What? No. Everything’s fine. I’m fine,” he chokes out the last part. “And to answer your question— no, I don’t think Horseface would make a good kisser. I mean, look at him, he probably drools a lot when he does.”

“That’s rude, Eren.”

“I was just kidding,” Eren assures. A pause. “Half-kidding.”

You give him a non-committed nod and hum before cocking your head to the side. “How about you, ‘Ren?”

“Me? What about me?”

“Have you ever thought about kissing one of our friends?”

Eren chews his bottom lip in thought before nodding. “Yep,” he sighs, popping the “p.” He finds himself shutting down his laptop and getting up from his place on the floor, stretching out the kinks in his muscles. He chooses not to elaborate intentionally.

“Who have you thought about kissing?”

“Why do you wanna know?” He takes a step and plops down on the couch beside you, arms spread on the back of the couch. Your brain short-circuits when you feel his bicep flex at the nape of your neck. You take a deep breath.

“Because! It wouldn’t be fair if I told you and you didn’t tell me. Besides, you were the one that brought it up in the first place.”

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees, stretching beside you lackadaisically, having no regard for how much of your personal bubble he was taking up right now. “But ‘m tired. Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he yawns, leaning back on the couch as he closes his eyes.

You smack his chest lightly to grab his attention, trying to ignore how firm it felt beneath your touch. Your hand lingers there for a moment, and you can see the beginning of a smirk appear on Eren’s lips. His warm hand wraps around your wrist before you can pull away. His calloused hand feels slightly rough against your skin, but strong.

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically, guiding your palm to rest right above his heartbeat. He presses his hand on top of yours, enveloping it.

“You really wanna know?” When he opens his eyes, his viridian stare is glazed over, and the timbres of his voice sink an octave lower, sending tingles down your spine.

“You wanna know who I’ve been thinking about all this time?” He asks again, this time bringing his face just a feather’s width from yours. His breath tickles your lips, teasing you.

It’s always been a game of cat and mouse between the two of you. One always has to chase, and one always has to be chased. Yet neither of you have been caught. Perhaps, then, it should be likened to a game of ‘chicken.’ Always skirting around each other, politely. Lingering touches, stolen glances, secret memories for you two to share. Getting closer and closer to one another, but never actually reaching that point of impact. When it comes to that final moment, the endgame, both of you swerve away from each other.

You wonder how long it’s going to be this way. Eren’s gotten more and more insistent, and you can only keep your walls up for so long. How much longer were you going to ignore the obvious elephant in the room?

You and Eren, Eren and you.

What would it be like to just give in?

“I do.”

Those two words seal your fate. Eren doesn’t wait to close the gap between you two, pressing his lips against yours firmly. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. Eren feels like the gasoline fueling your desire.

It’s you who pulls away first, feeling like you’ve had all the oxygen deprived from your lungs. Eren kisses you once, twice, three times before he gets sick of your fleeting taste in between. He guides you over his lap, your thighs on either side of his, straddling him.

You make a conscious effort not to sit on his hardening length that was slowly starting to press against the inside of your thigh, tantalizingly close to your liquid heat. Eren seems to have other plans as his hands grip your hips to sit you down.

Any attempts at self-preservation are thrown out the window the moment Eren feels your hips slot against his. You two just fit so perfectly together, he thinks, like you were made for each other. You were just so utterly intoxicating that it made Eren want to drown in you, for all of his senses to be filled with you. It’s here that he realizes what he feels for you encompasses so much more than just simple admiration, it was a type of longing that was enough to make a man feral when given even just a small taste.

He captures your lips once more, his tongue darting inside to mingle with your own as he grinds his cock against your clothed heat. He swallows your moans greedily, like a man dying of thirst.

“You like grinding on my cock like that, baby?”

Whatever you were going to say gets stuck in your throat as he bucks up roughly, hitting your clit directly. It’s all coming too fast, too hard— Eren has a way of making you lose yourself in the pleasure that you can’t even think. He has you falling apart and you two have barely even done anything.

“Yeah, fuck— that’s it, keep grinding that pretty pussy on me.”

The way you swivel your hips makes Eren’s head swim. He wants nothing more than to devour you, taste everything you have to offer. The hunger that’s been slowly consuming his being— his want, no— his need for you has unleashed itself in its entirety, and he lacks the self-restraint to keep it contained any longer. He wants everything you’re willing to give him. Your voice, your body, just you. As he rips off your shirt and your pants, leaving you hot and needy in your bra and panties, Eren thinks he’s officially in love with you.

With shaky, adrenaline filled hands, he unclasps your bra and tosses it aside, forgotten in some corner of his living room.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he sighs as he takes one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping purposefully. His other hand snakes up from its place on your hip to pinch the other one, areola hardening between his fingertips.

Your moans ricochet off the walls, filling the room with saccharine euphony that only deepens Eren’s desire for you. He drinks in every sound, filing it in a special place in his brain for future use. He finds himself getting closer and closer to his own release, and he can tell you are as well from the way your cries have become more incessant and whiny.

All at once, your delirium is quelled when Eren stops his ministrations. The look of confusion on your face makes Eren chuckle, but you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed for being so desperate.

“What’s wrong, princess? Were you close?” He coos when you nod your head yes, giving you another searing kiss as a sort of consolation prize. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good again.”

“I want to taste you, will you let me?”

“Taste me?”

“Mhm,” he hums, lowering himself down until he’s on the floor, in between your legs. You’re still in a similar position, but now you’re gripping the backrest of the sofa, knees sinking into the plush fabric on the cushions. “You’re so fucking wet. You’re dripping through your underwear.” To prove his point, Eren drags his pointer finger along your slit, using the pad of his fingertip to rub circles on your clit.

“C’mon,” you feel him nip at the meaty flesh of your thighs, then sucking hard enough that you know there’ll be bruises blossoming tomorrow. “Ask me to clean your sloppy little pussy up.”

“I- Eren, I can’t.” It’s too much, what he’s asking for. It’s so embarrassing that you don’t even want to think about it.

“Why not?” You can feel his hot breath fan against your quivering heat, drenched with desire for him. You subconsciously arch your back further, close to suffocating Eren between your thighs, which is exactly what he wants. “C’mon,” he insists, wrapping his arms around your thighs, pulling you down just a breath’s width away from his face, “ask me to eat you out. And make it pretty.”

It’s now or never. You want it so, so badly that you’re practically shaking with anticipation. You swallow your pride, and feel the shame rise up to your cheeks as you speak, voice barely above a whisper, “Eren, eat me out. Please?”

“Oh god,” you hear him groan breathlessly between your legs. “Yes, I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby, ‘swear.”

Eren slides your panties, wet with your slick, down and off with ease. The cool air hitting your labia makes you jerk up a bit, making Eren growl with annoyance.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, sinking you back down. He’s far too strong for you to escape his grip, so you push down slowly until you’re lightly pressed against his face. He gives your clit a nice, sweet kiss, causing you to gasp from the sudden jolt of pleasure. He lets go with a wet ‘pop’ that reverberates around the room.

“C’mon princess,” he gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You nervous or somethin’? I thought I told you to sit on my face.”

“I’m just,” you swallow thickly, trying to recollect your thoughts, “what if I suffocate you?”

Eren gives out a hearty chuckle, and you can feel it vibrate throughout your entire body. “I’m not gonna break. ‘Sides, I think I can die happy here. You just taste so damn sweet.” And as if to prove a point, he pulls you back down again, except this time without reservation. You sink down on his face completely. He licks up and down your slit, sucking on your clit. Eren’s tongue laps up all evidence of your arousal before wriggling itself inside your tight hole. His fingers replace his tongue, skillfully pressing up into that special spot that has you seeing stars. Your brain practically turns to mush. You start grinding down onto Eren’s face, knuckles turning white as you continue to grip the couch for support. The way you roll your hips has your clit rubbing perfectly against the bridge of Eren’s nose, causing your eyes to find purchase in the back of your skull.

Eren, on the other hand, can’t help the way his hips thrust up into the air with every squeeze of your thighs around his head. His cock was struggling against the confines of his pants, but even the slightest pressure was met with tremendous pleasure.

This was definitely going to be a lightbulb memory for him. Nothing, no one, could ever compare to this.

He doesn’t even want to stop for air.

“Oh god, Eren— don’t stop, please. I’m so fucking close,” you gasp.

He doesn’t stop. He moans as he sucks even harder and thrusts his fingers in and out even faster, the lewd sounds of your combined sin filling up his apartment.

You feel yourself begin to ascend to release, but you need some sort of anchor to ground you, to connect you even closer to the man underneath you. One of your hands snakes down in between your legs to grab at Eren’s brown locks. Your fingers twist against his scalp and you pull as you plateau, your juices being expelled each time your pussy spasms, effectively coating Eren’s face and hand.

The mix of pain and pleasure Eren feels from you pulling his hair is enough to send him over the edge, groaning and whimpering as hot, sticky cum coats the inside of his boxers. He continues to lap at your pussy, with less fervor this time, enjoying the way you tremble above him from overstimulation.

You both stay unmoving for a short while, panting as the two of you try to regain some semblance of composure. Eren taps at your thigh, signaling you to get up. You practically collapse on the couch, sighing as you stretch out the kinks in your muscles.

“Good?” He asks, bemused.

“Better than good, that was the best I’ve ever had,” you reply earnestly, sitting up with a newfound sense of determination. “Now, let me repay you.” You begin to get up before Eren shakes his head in the negative.

“You- uh, don’t have to.” Eren rubs the back of his neck, the tips of his ears slightly tinged with red.

Your eyes dart down and see the wet patch right below his waistband. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, bending over slightly to give you a kiss on the forehead. “Just means that I enjoyed it, and your pussy was that good.”

The post-orgasm clarity is in full effect now, and before you have a chance to gawk at his statement, Eren is already making his way out of the living room. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

He leaves for a split second before coming in a new pair of pants, with one of his shirts and a water bottle in hand.

“Arms up, c’mon.” You do as he says, and your senses are met with the smell of laundry detergent and Eren’s signature sandalwood scent as he puts his shirt on you. “Drink.”

He lays down, head resting against a throw pillow nestled against the arm of the couch before patting his abdomen, telling you to lay on top of him. You oblige, arms wrapping around his neck, and his finding their way around your waist instinctively.

“Eren— uh, my underwear?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he sighs contently, rubbing circles up and down your back. “You’re not going to need them.” You blanch and he laughs, one hand traveling up to grip your jaw so he can give you a kiss.

“And just for the record,” he pulls away a bit to brush some stray strands of hair out of your face, grinning widely. “I only wonder about kissing someone if I like them— in a romantic sense.”

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost or share my work on Tiktok.

[jarofstyles]

For mafia harry, I just love the fact that’s he’s only soft for his girl. So something soft!!!! Plss n thxx

He’s literally so soft for her it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: fluff, talk of murder, mafia type stuff

Check out our Patreon!

—-

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to come home with bruised knuckles. While he tended to have his men take care of business, he couldn’t help but be hands on sometimes.

When it came to certain motherfuckers, he truly couldn’t help but get in on the action and keep his name at the top of the’ who not to mess with’ list.

But his one and true weakness was sleepy eyed and soft as she stepped into his arms. He had gotten home from some business only an hour ago and put on the coffee pot. Being out all night was not ideal in the slightest, mainly because he had Y/N at home. Before meeting her he could go days at a time without sleep, without even being home. But having a woman he loved so deeply in his bed, who truly adored him and looked past his very unusual career path. She was so giving to him, with her time, energy, body, affection. He had hit the jackpot when it came to women and he knew all to well. So did anyone else.

It took a lot to get a man like Harry soft. He was hard and jagged around the edges. Throwing a punch or getting rid of someone wasn’t a big deal to him. Then Y/N stumbled into his life by accident and he found the heart he had covered with ice melted into a puddle of mush that she hand shaped in her own form. It was comical at times to see his attitude change when she would walk into the room.

“H?” She whispered sleepily. She shouldn’t be awake, but her body had somehow known her hero was home. While Y/N was well aware of his faults and his dangerous job and tendencies? He fiercely protected and cared for her. Provided for her. Gave her a home and a best friend and loved wrapped into one. No one was perfect, but Harry was perfect for her. “Where were you all night?” His stomach twinged with guilt as he pulled her into his chest, large hand cupping the back of her head and keeping her body close to his.

“M’so sorry, angel.” He whispered, pressing multiple kisses to her hairline. “We found one of the rats.” He grumbled, making Y/N freeze. Her head pulled up from his chest and her eyes were a dangerous glint. One that, quite frankly? Made him hard. As soft and gentle as Y/N is, she had come to take Harry and his men as family. You fuck with them? You fuck with her.

“And you took care of it?” Her tone was low, Harry still shocked at how fierce his little angel could be. How protective. She made them cookies and tea and brought sweets to the underground clubs, but was willing to put someone on their ass if they hurt Harry. It was fucking hot.

“Y’know I did, sweet girl. M’always taking care of my people.” He was cut off by her lips pressing to his jaw, her head tucking back into his neck. It was early and she hadn’t slept well. Y/N usually didn’t when it came to Harry being out and doing dangerous things. Her sleep schedule had been the worst it’s been since dating him, but it was the easiest sacrifice to make because she was getting to be in his arms. When he was home?

She got the best sleep of her entire life. Especially after getting dicked down.

“Know you do.” She relaxed, hand running over his broad back. The shirt was slightly damp form his sweat but she didn’t mind. The skin under was hot and it did get her mind going to think about how sexy he looked when he was mad. As long as it wasn’t at her? It went straight to her cunt.

Okay. Maybe even when it was at her. But it was very hard to make him angry at her. He was 100% a pushover for his girl. Y/N was the only one ever allowed to raise her voice at him.

~

The first time it had happened around others, they’d all nearly choked. Harry had ate the last of the cookie butter, which Y/N had been saving. It actually pissed her the fuck off, and not realizing he was in a meeting she had stormed down the hallway with her volume on 10. The girl wasn’t one too raise her voice often, but Harry knew how to push her buttons.

“Harry fucking Styles! You better hope to god you’re busy because I’m going to shove this jar up your ass!” She seethed, the stomping of her feet making everyone’s eyes widen. The men he worked closely with usually had a softer version of her. But it was earlier in the day, not their normal time, and gathered in the office in Harry’s large home.

Harry froze, realizing what it was and winced as he watched the door fly open. There, in all her big shirt, no pants and freshly woken glory was his beautiful Y/N. Empty jar in hand. Her eyes cut around the room but the fury she felt was too deep. This was personal!

Of course, they all were tense because No One talks to Harry Styles in a tone like that and got away with it. The shock that crossed their faces when Harry sheepishly got up and crossed the room, hushing her and trying to approach her like a wounded puppy was pure and utter insanity. The big man who always had a straight face, mean punches that knocked out cold, little regard for most people and took care of many a week was letting his woman talk to him like that.

“M’sorry, baby, I meant to get more but we called an emergency-“ he was cut off by a single hand raising, lips snapping closed as he watched his little love step closer to him.

“If you aren’t ready to go to Trader Joe’s in the next 15 minutes….” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll be cut off.” And Harry knew exactly what that meant.

No sex.

There was no way he was risking that.

“Okay, okay.” He raised his own hands in surrender. “M’gonna finish up. Go get ready, we’ll take the Audi.”

They all learned that day that you didn’t mess with Y/N’s food, and Harry Styles only had one singular weakness.

~

Granted, Harry never was ashamed of it. He always said that his woman was half of his strength. She didn’t need him, but he needed her. Harry loved her so wholly and deeply that he knew that she was it for him. He had bought an engagement ring only 2 months in. So no, he didn’t ever deny it.

If anyone ever tried to use Y/N against him, they ended up in the river. Or in several pieces. He had very little restraint over that, considering all threats he took very, very seriously. The one light in his life was something he kept close, protected, and loved.

“Why don’t we go shower n’then we sleep? Hm? M’sorry to keep you up late, angel.” He puckered his lips down at her to be met with a soft peck, nodding her head at the idea. “And then we can make some ‘brunch’, whatever you call it.”

It got a laugh out of her, so he considered it a win.

“Mhm. If you thought I was letting you into our clean sheets smelling like guns and sweat. It’s sexy for dirty sheets but I’m simply too tired. Got the new ones I got online too.” She sighed, playfully teasing him because she knew it would get him to smile. He saw horrors every day, and if she could get some silliness in him it would lessen his stress.

“Oi. Don’t be callin’ me smelly, little girl.” He pinched her cheek, obnoxious kissing her mouth. “Better get your ass up there and get naked so we can pass out. M’Gonna need those pretty hands helping me wash, I fear… I’m a dead man walking.” He was dramatic, obviously overtired and it got a giggle from her.

“In your dreams, Mafia Man. Let’s move.”

“You’re right, I do dream about that.”

[hollandsmushroom]

Okay well this is me requesting the bench press fix blurb whatever it is lol, I don’t mind if there’s no smut, up to you and how you feel while writing it, thanks!

Both Fucking Bench Press || T.H.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, 69, filthy, cum eating(obvi), oral both fem and masc receiving

Word Count: 1650

A/n: Third installment of my accidental series about Y/n and readers at home gym debauchery, I don't know how this came to be but you guys seemed to love it so I hope you like this one just as well. It isn't necessary to read these but this is part 1 and 2: Mouth Fucking Pushups Mother Fucking Squats

give feedback here and read more here

At this point you and Tom should have learned that you are incapable of working out together, it was always gonna end up with pants on the floor and cum smeared faces but you let that slip your mind as you both made your way down to the in home gym, preparing for your respective workout routines. You knew it wasn’t going to end with you both having completed your planned activities but you also knew that it was going to end with you having had some form of work out, a much more pleasurable one than you had mapped out.

You wished that you could have held out longer than you did, laying on the floor trying to focus more on the burn in your abs than the soft grunts of exertion that were leaving Tom’s perfect lips but your attempts were useless, back falling onto the padded floor one final time and bending your neck backwards, catching a glimpse of Tom over your shoulder, your eyes able to see directly up the leg of his loose fitting workout shorts. You could see all the way to the swell of his peachy bum and where the hair on his legs got thicker as it hit around the base of his dick. Your mind wandered as you noted this, why wasn’t he wearing boxers?

You pushed up from where you had lain, standing up and moving towards Tom, swinging one leg over his waist and bracketing Tom’s hips with your knees, your cunt hovering just above his apparently already hard cock. Tom’s eyes widened at your sudden presence but didn’t question it, racking up the bar and eyeing your finger as it scratched its way down his chest tantalizingly slow. His sore hand grabbed your wrist gently, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss to the flesh just over where he could feel your heartbeat.

“What are you doing, love?” Tom muttered, eyes you through the shade of his interwoven lashes.

“Wondering” your response was short, prompting a raised eyebrow and a nip at your skin.

“What are you wondering?” you shook your hand free of Tom’s gentle grip, going to squeeze his flexed muscle as you leaned forward, lips dancing like a flame near his own as you uttered your inquiry.

“Could my superhero boyfriend bench press me?” your eyes were locked with his as you spoke but flickered downwards as finished, watching how his lip became entrapped between his teeth, a wicked grin over taking his face as his hands trailed down your sides, gripping into your hips and picking you up. Tom’s biceps flexed deliciously as he hoisted you up above him, pressing you up so your abdomen was above his face, shirt loosening and exposing the sweaty skin to his eager eyes. He had been watching you, you just didn’t realize, like before when he had placed himself between your legs and the moment devolved in your cunt smearing across his face.

“He most definitely can” Tom growled, unlocking the joint of his elbow and letting you lower towards his face, your legs straightened out so you didn’t fall off of his flattened palms as he pressed you back up again.

“Holy fuck” the words slipped past you lips on instinct, in pure awe of your partners strength, the exhibition of his power sending a heat to the plush between your legs, hieghtening the sensation of your heartbeat in you finger tips as you held them out, head ducked down to be able to witness the strain and tensing of Tom’s bicep, loving how if moved under his taught tan skin.

“Holy fuck is right” Tom uttered and you heard the swish of his unfitted workout shorts, drawing your eyes to the prominent bulge that laid beneath the breathable fabric, bringing your mind back to the glimpse of him that you saw earlier from your position of the floor.

“You’re hard” you didn’t realize the words were coming out of your mouth until you heard Tom chuckle, legs shifting with anticipation and need.

“Uh, yeah, I um, yeah” Tom choked on his words, the rare spark of anxiety burning in his chest as if you hadn’t rode his face and he hadn’t fucked your mouth in the last month.

“I’m soaking” you muttered in assurance, an appeal to help douse the flame of insecurity that your boyfriend seemed to be fueling and it seemed to snap him right out of it, his eyes widening immediately.

“Yeah?” the tone of his voice had completely changed, and shred of doubt dissipating entirely as he twisted your body above his, spinning you like a baton as if it was the easiest thing in the world ceasing as your bodies laid parallel, pointing in opposite directions. “Let me see” the sly syllables trailed past his lips as he brought you down, your knees instinctively bending and resting on the work out bench so that your knees bracketed Tom’s face.

Tom’s cock was in your face, trapped beneath the constraining fabric of his shorts, an alluring sight that had your mouth watering instantly. You pressed one hand into the cushioned bench, using your other hand to cup his cock, his length practically jumped at your touch. A shiver etched its way down your spine as Tom’s fingers curled into the hem of your pants, tugging down at the tight fabric, your panties coming with, as he exposed your core to himself, and your description was apt, you were soaking.

“Fuck, baby, you’re not just soaking your dripping” his hands massaged yoru ass cheeks as he pulled you down close to his facd, close enough that his tongue was able to swipe through your folds and gather your arousal in his tongue, the taste earning a hum from the depths of his chest. A strangled moan escaped your mouth and Tom joined in, the sensation forcing your hand to tighten around his hard on.

“Tommy, are we-” you stopped, choking on the fact that Tom’s lips were now wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking as he let kitten licks press through his pout. “Are we going to do this?” you were finally able to get out, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through your veins, fingers slipping underneath the fabric and near Tom’s heated cock, pulling down the waistband till it was resting beneath Tom’s balls.

“I thought we already were,” he mumbled, his face still buried in your cunt as he traced your folds with the flexed tip of his tongue. You smiled widely as you listened to Tom’s words, leaning down and taking Tom’s leaking tip into your mouth, the salty taste of precum blooming across your taste buds as you began to suck intently. Your actions made Tom moan loudly into your cunt, jaw opening wide and sending the humming sensation through your cunt. His cock was heavy on your tongue, the weightiness of emboldened and libido flushed flesh. You were both devolving into moaning messes, spit and arousal dripping mouth and cunt alike, an exchange of the most animalistic kind, and it was burning its way through you. The fact that when you bent your head just right, licking at the side of his cock with intensity, you could watch Tom eat you from between your bodies was exciting and intensifying every freeling your body was experiencing.

Tom dragged his tongue from your clits, swirling the taught muscle downwards till it drew circles of your spasming entrance, teasing the hole as he dipped into it slowly. He rocked his head as he did so, pressing the crook of his nose to your clit but it wasn’t enough to satiate him, he needed more, yearning to drown between your thighs. His hands snaked their way around your thighs, pulling you down towards him as he pressed down on the rounds of your ass. The pressure on your clit eased the pain of desire and fed the flames of your orgasm that were dancing in your lower abdomen.

“Tommy!” you whimpered, pulling off of his cock just enough to be able to moan out his name, a warning that you were close and you knew that he was as well purely by the way he was humming into your cunt and how his cock was twitching in front of your face.

“Me too baby, let go” he assured, as you took his cock back into your mouth you felt the world shatter around you, the only real feeling was that of Tom’s tongue and his dick in your mouth, sliding in and out as you somehow managed to maintain the movement even through the mind bending pleasure. You both came hard, your juices being lapped up as Tom continued to relentlessly lick, your mouth filling with cum as hot white strings painted the inside of your mouth, the salty tang grounding you from slipping off into a pleasure induced haze.

Eventually you had both drained yourselves, no energy left in your euphoric bodies as you somehow ended up on the floor of the room. Your chin pressed into Tom’s pec as you looked up at him with largely dilated pupils and he looked back at you with the same.

“I don’t think we can work out together anymore, Tommy” you muttered, your fingers tracing indiscernible patterns across his heaving chest.

“What? Why?” Tom asked, his arms wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

“Well it never really ends up with us working out” you tried to remind him.

“But doesn’t it though? Cause I feel like I worked out and your legs are still shaking like you squatted 1000 pounds, so I actually think we should work out together more” Tom chuckled, pinching your side and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You are insatiable” you poked him back.

“And you like it”

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[fictionalmenmakemecry]

Hot Public Shit

SPOILERS ALERT: If you haven't finishing watching TVD, there might be some spoilers for you. I don't tell any of the story but it might spoil some of the character relationships that later develop in the show. (I personally hate spoilers so I'm making this as clear as possible)

Character: Damon x reader, Enzo, Stefan, Caroline and Bonnie

Summary: During a celebration dinner you try your best to push Damon to brink of losing control. He doesn't let you get away with it. He doesn't even wait til you get home.

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT (+18) , Spoilers, Cursing

(HEAVY SMUT includes unprotected sex, daddy kink, public sex, choking, heavy sexual terminology and masturbation)

"How long is this going to be?" Damon whined getting out of his Camaro and slamming the door shut.

"Damon, you promised that you would behave tonight. It's Stefan and Caroline's night." I looped around the car placing my hands on his chest looking him in the eyes.

"They've been married for like what? A year? That's nothing when your nearly 180 years old" Damon rolled his eyes

"They've been through a lot this year" I brushed his shirt down bringing my eyes to his chest

"So have we." Damon brought my face back up to his gently holding my chin.

"We can have our own celebration" I whispered giving a flirty smile.

"Mmm, I like that sound of that" Damon hummed bringing his head down to my neck and kissing it.

A soft moan escaped my lips feeling his warm breath hit my skin.

"How about we celebrate tonight, with me eating your perfect pussy out until you make a mess on my face" Damon whispered bringing his face up giving a lascivious smile.

I could feel my face turning red and my core starting to wake up from memories of familiar nights.

I snapped myself out from zoning out and pulled away from Damon kissing my neck.

"I would love that, but right now we should go in and be good guests. I know Caroline has been slaving over the oven all day making sure we were still going to come." I took Damon's hand and dragged him up the drive way.

We knocked on the door and in a instance Caroline was opening it.

"Welcome guys!" She cheered raising her arms to gesture us in.

I could just feel Damon's eyes roll into the back of his head hearing her high pitched voice.

"Thanks for having us Caroline" I grinned bringing her into a hug.

"I'm just happy that you're hear" She said chipperly

I walked further into the house to see Stefan, Bonnie and Enzo all chilling near the fire, enjoying their drinks.

"Hey!" I greeted walking towards Stefan.

We hugged and Damon and I plopped ourselves down on the couch on the other side of the fireplace.

We chatted and enjoyed our drinks soaking up the heat of the fire as Caroline and Stefan finished cooking the dinner. I look over to see how happy Bonnie was as Enzo showered her in kisses and wrapped his arm around her waist keeping her close to him. Bonnie deserved happiness and Enzo was that person that could give her that. I glanced over to Damon who leaned back onto the couch enjoying his bourbon. I rested back into his chest wanting to appreciate the rare and happy memories we were making.

"You okay?" He looked down, bring his arm around me caressing my lower back.

"Yeah, I'm just happy I'm here with you" I raised my head, meeting his cold blue eyes.

As the night went on, dinner was served which seemed to be a never ending trail of food. It felt like we were having a 12 course dinner. By the end we were all stuffed and continuing to slowly get through our drinks. We were starting to get more relaxed and happy as the liquor made its way around, leading to interesting conversations between us all.

I looked over to see Damon finishing off the bottle by pouring the rest of it into his glass. Seeing his hand grip around the glass and bringing the liquor up to his pink lips, sparked a little flame deep inside of me. I squirmed in my chair, feeling the affect of all the alcohol playing a part in my random horniness. I brought my hand down under the table and rest it on his thigh, leaning closer to him. He looked over to me with his eyes slightly gazed over. I know he was also feeling the same buzz I was feeling. I ran my fingers lightly further up his thigh and rest it on his stiffening package. I glanced up at him while palming him gently. He shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. He looked at me with narrowed eyes telling me not to test him. I bit my lip knowing what that did to him. He came close to my ear and I could feel the heat radiate off his body.

"You want to play this game?" He whispered softly in my ear.

I turned my head giving him a quick smirk and brought my drink up to my mouth knowing I was going to have a fun night ahead.

"So guys, I think we need to bring out the real guns" Caroline said walking up to the table slightly hyper from all the activities.

We all turned our attention to her and saw her with two massive bottles of tequila.

"I'm ready" Enzo shifting in his sit giving a quick look to Damon.

I knew both of them were going to want to test each other which would mostly result in both of them passed out on the floor from neither of them wanting to tap out.

"Let's make this more interesting... How about truth or... drink?" Caroline arched her eyebrow cracking the fresh seal on the caps of the bottles.

"I like the sound of that" Damon smirked bringing his hand under the table resting it on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze.

When Damon drank, he would heat up like a furnace. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with his body keeping up with burning off the alcohol. The heat from his hand spread across my delicate skin on my leg. It made me shift uncontrollably.

The questions were getting pretty detailed early in, bringing people to drink more tequila than they liked. In turn making people more loose with their thoughts and secrets.

"Okay, I got one" Enzo leaned over, his eyes getting more gazed and speech slowed down.

"If you could only have sex in public or sex once a month?" He looked around watching people think about it.

"Um.. H-how public?" Caroline hiccupped.

"The chance of a stranger catching you any minute" He explained

Stefan took a swig of a shot of tequila.

"Really Stefan? You're no fun" I complained

"What do you expect? Stefan doesn't like to have interesting conversations" Damon looked away in annoyance.

"Sorry, I just think that's kinda private" Stefan put his hands up laying back in his chair.

"Come on Stefan!" Caroline exclaimed with a frown on her face.

"Well, public shit is pretty hot. So I wouldn't have a problem with it" Damon winked at me bringing his hand an inch higher.

I took a deep breath to stop myself from moving against his hand as it was dangerously close to my covered pussy.

"I think so too. Some of the best sex I've had has been in public" I smirked seeing Damon's mouth open slightly from the corner of my eye.

"I think you're right, there's something about it" Bonnie added leaning into Enzo grinning.

"Let's get to the nit and gritty" Damon wiped his bottom lip with two fingers and continued.

"Choking. Yay or nay?" He looked around the table.

"Okay, I call quits. I'm out." Stefan got up from the table

"Stefan?! it's just a game." Caroline protested bringing her hands onto the table.

"I'm not talking about this with my brother across from the table" Stefan walked away from the table and made his way to the kitchen.

"Vanilla like always" I heard Damon say under his breath.

Caroline's face was covered in disappointment. She gathered some empty plates and glasses and followed Stefan.

Damon cleared his throat bringing our attention back to him.

"I never had it done to me" Bonnie replied looking at Enzo.

"No?" Enzo smirked rubbing her hand gently on the table.

"What about you... baby girl?" Damon whispered the latter part not wanting to draw attention

"I haven't tried it..." I hesitated ".. but I want to" I looked down at his lips feeling my pussy pulse with his hand graze against my underwear.

"We are gonna have to fix that, aren't we?" Damon leaned closer licking his lips.

We heard someone lightly cough bringing our minds back to where we were. We broke our trance and pulled away. I could feel blood to rush my face in embarrassment.

"I think it's time we should head out" Damon trying to act casual and cover up his eagerness to get out.

I looked over to Bonnie who was moving her eyebrows up and down smirking. I glared at her, knowing it was obvious why we were in a sudden rush to leaving.

Damon gave one last tight squeeze to my thigh, feeling his strength in his hand, did not help my self control of keeping everything PG. He brushed his hand lightly against my underwear before lifting it away. I whimpered uncontrollably but no one heard.

We all got up from the table and said our goodbyes, put on our coats and made our way out of the house. I could feel Damon's eyes never leaving me as we walked out onto the driveway. We got into the dark Camaro, feeling the cold leather on my bare legs that brought shivers up my spine.

"You're in trouble now" Damon said taking a deep breath in and revving the Camaro to life.

He swung the car out of the driveway and sped up the road. I looked over to see that there was definitely something else on his mind and I had an idea of what it was. I trailed my eyes down to his now, tight black jeans.

"Those jeans look awfully tight and uncomfortable" I teased keeping my eyes on him.

"Don't. I can barely think straight as it is" Damon kept his eyes on the road.

"What you waiting for then?" I bit my lip, wanting him to lose control.

He looked over at me with the same lust I had in my eyes.

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week." Damon clenched his jaw

"That's fine by me..... Daddy" I added feeling myself soak through my underwear.

Damon suddenly swerved the car into a empty parking lot and drove to the end, shaded with trees. He put the car into park and turned off the engine. The only sounds were us breathing and the distance sounds of the city in the distance.

He pulled his seat the whole way back. and leaned over grabbing my waist bringing me onto his lap. I let out a moan, finally feeling some fiction against my pussy.

"Try to stay quiet, understand?" Damon grabbed my jaw looking into my eyes.

I nodded willingly, wanting any relief possible. He moved his hand to my cheek and we brought our mouths together, feeling his tongue dip in and out. I grinded up against him to bring us any kind of pleasure. I could hear his groan in the back of his throat.

"I can't take this anymore" I pulled away panting.

I lifted up reaching down to unbuckle his belt and he helped pulling down his jeans, making his cock spring up enthusiastically. I brought my hand down, pumping him gently and seeing his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure. His head leaning back to the head rest.

"You like that Daddy?" I whispered

"Fuck, I want to ruin you completely" He opened his eyes pushing my hair out of face.

"What's stopping you?" I said softly.

In that instant, he couldn't control himself, he raised my dress and ripped my underwear with ease.

"These will just be in the way" He smirked tossing them to the passenger seat.

I could feel his finger ease into my folds and feel myself falling apart. I rested my arms on his shoulders leaning my head back and savoring the pleasure spreading across my body.

"You like when I rub your clit like this?" He kissed my neck while his finger lightly circled my clit, my juices covering his hand.

"So wet for me, baby girl" He hummed bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking on them.

"Fuck me" I moaned bringing my hand down and easing his cock inside me.

We both sink into it, taking each other in for a couple of seconds. I could feel myself sucking him in deeper.

"I don't think I can be gentle with you tonight baby" He looked into my eyes

"I don't want you to be" I leaned in kissing him. "Fuck me hard" .

I kneeled up, giving him room to thrust, wanting to feel the power of him. We moaned in ecstasy. Feeling him completely raw in me made us feel close wanting each other even more.

The sounds of our skin slapping and our heavy breathing and moaning. I never felt so wet in my life.

"I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you" He breathed out.

I gathered up my dress in one hand and brought the other down massaging my swollen clit.

"Damon, fuck" I moaned feeling my orgasm starting to built.

"That's it baby girl, keep touching yourself" He said breathing heavily staring at me pleasuring myself.

We fucked and I could feel the car heating up and fogging up the windows. He pulled down the shoulders of my dress exposing my breasts. He slowed down his thrusts, leaned down to suck on my nipples. His warm breath was enough to get them hard.

"..daddy" I whimpered feeling the edge getting closer.

"Close?" He whispered bringing his hand to the back of my head and grabbing my hair.

I nodded eagerly moving my hips. He start fucking me harder, not faster but harder which meant he was close. I wanted him to completely control me. I wanted him to overpower me.

"Choke me" I moaned looking into his eyes.

Something switched in his eyes. He looked into my eyes a second longer, making sure I wanted it.

I could feel his hand grasp my bare neck. I could feel his fingers tightening on the side. My pulse in my ears. My blood constricted. It was the very thing to push my over the edge.

Feeling his cock pound into me while choking me made me fall apart with a burst of pleasure

"I'm-I'm cummin" I moaned loudly, meeting my eyes with his as I shake uncontrollably.

"Fuck, baby.. I-i can't hold on" Damon groaned feeling his pumps getting messy and feeling his cum erupt inside me, pleasure covered our bodies bringing them close together and falling into each other. Damon's hand dropped from my throat and bringing it around my waist holding me against him as we recovered.

"I never have had..." I breathed out not having the energy to think of the words.

"Me neither" Damon sighed stroking my hair

All I could hear were both of our racing heart beats. Our sweaty skin pressed together feeling the heat in the car and completely forgetting we were in a parking lot.

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Misread Affections - Laszlo Kreizler/Fem!Reader SMUT

I started at midnight. I had 0 words. It’s 4:30am. I have 4643 words because I have fallen deeply for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. Forgive me for this.

Synopsis: With all your history together, you and Doctor Kreizler believe you understand each other. Yet when you believe him to be infatuated with Karen Stratton, and he believes you to have affection for Marcus Isaacson, you’re both stunned when you find yourselves to be proven wrong.

Warnings: NSFW. Desk Sex. Dirty Talk. Patient-to-Friend-to-Lover. Definite depression and general self-loathing.

SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND SEASON!!!!!!

You had always admired the man Doctor Laszlo Kreizler was.

He championed those who could not champion themselves. He worked tirelessly to understand the minds of criminals. To those very same criminals, and many others that lived as outcasts to society, he would offer kindness and understanding. At his best he was beyond intelligent and, daresay, sweet.

At his worst, he was ruthless, and his own self-loathing would have him come across as unempathetic most days. While preaching to others to care for himself, he would often forego his own care. While offering an ear and a receptive mind, he would refuse to offer himself the same.

You knew this within mere days of knowing Doctor Kreizler. And such facts made you rather fond of him.

A fondness that was not helped by his handsome build, his dark locks, his scrutinizing gaze.

And yet no part of you could justify ever acting upon this fondness.

You had come to him both as a patient and a colleague. You had always been aware of a darkness within yourself, ever since you were a child. This darkness had only grown, too often all-consuming, leaving you. a dysfunction wreck of a human being. However, you had an obligation to keep going, a promise you had sworn to your sister to continue your own existence. So, exist you did.

While your family’s fortune wasn’t enough to send you to Harvard, like the Doctor himself, it did allow for you to be a reasonably educated woman of the times. A deep fascination in understanding your own darkness led you to the work of alienists, and eventually to the work of Doctor Kreizler.

While you couldn’t often justify breaking societal rules to such an extent, you found yourself motivated enough to call upon the Doctor with a proposition – should he aide you in understanding your own illness of the brain, you would offer any services you could to the Kreizler Institute.

You could tell he was curious of you. A woman of your standing did not often make such demands with such authority, nor so blatantly admit to her own illnesses. He quickly agreed, eager to study why you considered yourself so damaged, and happy to take on an extra set of hands with the children he looked after.

Over time, you begun to slip effortlessly into Doctor Kreizler’s life.

You met the likes of Cyrus and Stevie, along with many others that worked at the Institute. You were then blown away by the strength within Miss Sara Howard, and the pure, undiluted love that Mister John Schuyler Moore could show others. You were even called upon on several occasions to be a fresh set of eyes, the murders of young boy prostitutes and kidnappings of babies not deterring you, to the surprise and reluctant joy of the Doctor.

And as Doctor Kreizler studied you, you studied him.

You slowly learned of all the emotion he kept hidden behind the façade of professionalism. The kindness, the love, the anger, the fear. While he showed none of these most days, occasionally a concoction of such feeling would burst in an overwhelming outpour.

In offering him a platonic safe space, a place for him to talk through such outbursts should he wish, he in turn aided you.

The darkness you felt for so long began to subside some days, and between the efforts of him and a passing remark from John, you learned of an outlet for your darker thoughts – writing.

While expressing your own emotions and turmoil did not come easy, you found it far simpler when written down on paper, as opposed to spoken aloud to a judging room.

Doctor Kreizler gifted you a beautiful leather-bound journal a mere day after this revelation, with the request that you record your thoughts. He promised he would not read it unless you requested him to as an act of therapy.

For many days, you allowed him to read any thoughts that came to mind.

Thoughts of blood, of death, of pain and anger. Thoughts of a stolen childhood, of worthlessness, of longing.

Many days when he read your pages, you would be silently crying as he did, fearful of his judgement. But it never came.

Instead, he would close the book silently, and offer you professional advice.

One particularly rough day, in which your narrative was beyond vicious to you, he closed the book before finishing, and offered you something you didn’t expect – an embrace.

He hugged you so tightly, that for once…

Your inner monologue ceased.

His own, however, raged on.

How could you think so lowly of yourself, he wondered? While he could understand mindsets built from trauma, he couldn’t help but wish you could see yourself through his own eyes. Your empathy when you cared for the children in the Institute. Your intelligence when conversing with Miss Howard. Your artistic delight when laughing with John. And the perspective, the warmth you offered such a broken man such as himself.

Neither of you knew, in that exact moment, that the other was realizing the fondness you both held in your hearts for each other.

And neither of you knew how truly broken the other felt at their core.

Two souls, believing themselves to be undeserving of love, finding it in their hearts for the other.

When the beautiful, cunning Doctor Karen Stratton entered the picture, you asked Doctor Kreizler to refrain from reading your journal.

He was hurt by this, but profession and courtesy claimed that he could not show it.

You began to withdraw from him, placing your entire focus on the case of the stolen babies and your focus on the children in the Institute. Kreizler, in his own difficulties of potentially losing the said Institute, took notice of your own withdrawal from your sessions, but held enough hope that you had found stability to care for yourself. You still conversed with Sara, you smiled with John. You had even been introduced to the Isaacsons, and he had wondered if you had taken a liking to Marcus.

You deserved a young man such as him, he told himself, heart heavy. A whole, young man with enough strength to support you.

And on the night of Marcus’ death, he believed it to be confirmed.

He found you alone, in his study where you so often had your sessions with him. You were curled inwards on yourself, clutching your journal as though it were your lifeline, sobbing uncontrollably.

He moved to console you, arms holding you tightly.

“It’s all too much,” you choked out, unable to articulate much more.

 Doctor Kreizler nodded, waiting for you to be able to go on.

You regained some breath with difficulty. “I just…I can’t stand to lose a friend. Not after everything else lately.”

 “I know how difficult it can be, to lose one you love…” Kreizler began, not noticing how your sobs stopped in confusion. “After Mary, I…Well I swore I would never again…The point is, I-“ he stopped short.

You had spluttered out a laugh.

 Your hand covered your mouth immediately, noticing what had just happened. You immediately moved to cover it up, wiping away your tears and standing up away from him. “No, no, Doctor. Heavens, Marcus…well, he was loved but, I saw…I see the Isaacsons as brothers I never had. He was dear to me but…not in the sense I suspect that Mary was to you.”

 “I…see…” Doctor Kreizler pulled back, sitting in his study chair as he gazed at you. “Apologies, I seem to have misread your relationship. Nonetheless, his death has greatly affected you, as it has all of us. I suspect it will be a very difficult grieving process, but…” he manages a soft, rare smile that warmed your heart. “We will endure it together, as we have these cases.”

“Will we?” your voice grew empty as your thoughts swirled.

He titled his head, unsure of where this was leading. You gathered your courage to question him.

“Rumour has it, Doctor Stratton has asked you to join her in Vienna. I wonder if you’ll go.”

 Silence falls over the room.

 Laszlo couldn’t understand what this had to do with anything. Your crying, your distress over Marcus. What did his leaving have to do with any of your distress?

 “You’re greatly upset by something,” he eventually said, gazing at you with a more analytical eye than before. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit, if you think I know the specifics of it.”

“I-“ you stopped, clearing your throat as you choked up. Your knuckles turned white on your journal’s edges, hands shaking. “Doctor Kreizler-“

“It’s been months since we’ve known each other,” he interrupts, “and we haven’t held a session together in nearly five weeks. Would it pain you to call me Laszlo? Are we not…friends?”

You gaped at him, but his face remained unreadable.

  You shake your head. “Yes, it…it would pain me. It would pain me a great deal, Doctor – it does pain me a great deal to hear you call me a friend when…”

“When what?” he prompts you sharply, and you inhale quickly.

“When I feel I’ve been dishonest with you, unkind to you…” had the room not been dead still, Laszlo might have missed the next words you whispered. “I feel I’ve been perverse to you.”

 If he was confused, he didn’t show it. And you were talking now, the words spilling out, a cascade unable to end.

“I feel as though…had Marcus not…died…tonight, I might never have done this. But then my mind, it began spinning so quickly I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t help but imagine countless scenarios in which Libby, in which the Dusters, in which…well, in which any number of causes might take your life as well. In which you might die before…before I can confess…” You huff, your words getting caught once again. With a determined move, your arm shot out to pass your journal to him, and Kreizler takes note of a particular page being creased.

 He looks up at you, but you don’t meet his eye.

“I’ve marked where I want you to start reading. Just…go from there. Inform me when you’re finished.”

You walk over to the window, desperate to be distracted, as Doctor Kreizler opens the book and reads at your request.

           He can’t comprehend what he’s reading at first.

           While he had grown accustomed to your twisted perception of yourself, he hadn’t realized just how ruthless the self-loathing could take you. Endless doubt of your friendships with the team, with your position as a caretaker, in your abilities to be a friend.            And as words continue, he realizes your doubts in being a partner, a lover.

           If he grows flustered at the words he reads, he’s determined not to show it to you.

           He reads your envy of women like Sara Howard, able to move forward with such strength and certainty, and of Karen Stratton, so brash, so forward. Your envy is strong towards her, in her abilities to understand sexuality, passion, human desire, and in…

           In her connection to himself.

           His eyes widen as your own ramblings seem to uncover a truth you hadn’t explored before – your attraction to the Doctor that had aided you, offered you employment. The pure taboo of such affections, yet your inability to stop it. Your adoration, your admiration for the intimidating, raw man that he was. How you felt unworthy, that you would hold him back, that he deserved a woman as delightful as Doctor Stratton, a woman who could stimulate him academically, that could pleasure him physically. How you felt so deeply ashamed of harbouring such elicit fantasies of the man that had been nothing but kind to you. How you loved him so deeply it made you want to die, because you would never be deserving –

           You heard the journal snapping shut, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face the Doctor, knowing what he must’ve read, dreading what he must now be thinking.

           The silence lasted far longer than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

           “I find myself taken aback more often than I like,” Kreizler’s voice shatters the still air. “I believe myself to be so wise, so understanding of the mind, and yet I come across a mind such as yours that I…I truly cannot fathom how you think what you think.”

           “I’m sorry,” you start, voice breaking as tears begin to flow again.

           You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your own. You don’t dare to turn around, frozen like a rabbit having been sniffed out by a hound.

           “You think me to be attracted to Doctor Stratton, am I correct?”

           You nod. Of course, he was. Was it not obvious?

           “Karen and I are colleagues, and friends, should I be too bold to assume so. I can recognize that she is a physically beautiful woman, yes, and I’m sure some day she will make a man a very happy husband, should she wish. But her and I have a kinship, a partnership, not unlike what I believe you and Marcus might have had, that I too misinterpreted as love.”

           You sniff, closing your eyes tightly. What was he trying to tell you?

           Doctor Kreizler spins you around slowly, leading you to face him.

           “I do not harbour half the affection in my heart for Doctor Stratton as I do for you.”

           You freeze. “Doctor-“

           “Please,” he reaches up to cup your face, wiping away several of the tears that had fallen. “Please call me Laszlo. You are not the only one to have an epiphany after the loss of our friend, my dear. If you are being so honest with me, I feel it only right to offer you the same.”

           “Laszlo…” you whisper, meeting his eyes for the first time since he read your words. His heart breaks with the pain within them. “How can you do this? Look at me, hold me, when you see how broken I am? I’m undeserving-“

           “You would choose to love, to care for a cripple, a shell of a man in the eyes of society. A man who has too often neglected the children he cares for, often spat in the face of those he dares to call his friends. If either of us is undeserving of the other’s love, my dear, it’s me.”

           Your brows furrow angrily, reaching up to mirror him, cupping his own face with both of yours. “Laszlo Kreizler you stop that right now, I won’t hear any more of…you’re smiling. How could you be smiling?”

           He leans into one of your hands affectionately, a rare, dashing smile lighting up his features in a way you cherished to see, despite the circumstances. “Perhaps we are both wrong. Perhaps…perhaps we need each other, to use each other’s eyes and hearts to understand who we truly are. We both have such lowly opinions of ourselves but…perhaps it was meant to be.”

           Your own smile was beginning to form, despite your best efforts, as your brain’s screaming of all that could go wrong began to quieten.

           “I hesitate to believe in fate, Doctor…” you trail off, taking a step closer, your heart filled with hope and eyes filled with wonder. “I hesitate further to admit to needing someone, and yet…my brain is only ever kind and quiet when I’m around you.”

           Laszlo’s weaker arm rests on your hip, while the thumb of the hand caressing your face moves to trace your chin. “My language is not as…poetic, as yours, my dear,” he confesses, and you both chuckle, “but I very much would like to kiss you, with your permission.”

           “Laszlo, you could do anything to me,” you confess, reaching forward to finally meet his lips.

           It’s messy, and uncoordinated, but any lack of experience the pair of you may have is made up for by the pure, electric eagerness that overtakes the both of you. You’re both exploring, testing each other, in some give and take dance that does not seem to quell any emotions within you, instead quite the opposite.

           You could kiss him forever, you quickly realize.

           But by some cruel twist of fate, you have to pull away, air taking priority.

           You stare wildly at him as he breathes heavily, eyes darker than you had ever seen, with a sense of uncertainty that you hadn’t ever seen about him before.

           A teasing smile finds its way onto your face, as you can’t help but test your luck.

           “How far, exactly, did you read in my book?”

           He blinks at you a couple of times, uncertain of your line of questioning. “I read of your jealousy, of your shame, I don’t…I don’t believe I finished it all, I found I had to address the issue before I continued –“

           “Would you like to know what else was in there?”

           Laszlo appeared flustered as you led him back to his plush chair, and you knelt down between his legs to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground. You don’t offer it to him, however, instead putting it aside.

           “My dear, I don’t –“

           “I ask you to stop me, if my advances are too…forward to you, Laszlo.”

           You slowly rise from your place, moving to lift your skirts so you might position yourself above the Doctor, straddling him in his chair. As if on its own accord, his good hand rises to situate on your waist tightly. You gently grasp his weaker hand, his “broken wing”, and lift it to your mouth, delicately kissing the palm, each finger.

           Laszlo mutters your name, transfixed by your mouth’s movements.

           “I would love every part of you,” you begin, continuing your assault of affection as you whisper against the part of him, he views as most broken. “I would care for you in every capacity in which I’m capable. I would strive to be deserving of you in every which way.” You drop his hand and lean forward, hands grasping the back of the chair as you hold his gaze. “I would have you claim every part of me, I would have your marks for the world to see, if you wished. I’ve dreamt of you and I in the most compromising positions that I dare not say, on nearly every surface of your study, my bedroom, the Institute. I would give you every single piece of me, Laszlo, every ounce of my attraction. I would give you my darkest sins and my deepest pleasure, if you would allow me too. Please, Doctor Kreizler, let me please you.”

           You didn’t know what you were expecting from your confession.

           Perhaps you wondered if he would push you away, exclaiming that your desires were too much, your words too sinful, and that he would cease associations with you immediately. Perhaps you thought he would scold you for being too wanton, too unbecoming of a woman of your standing. Perhaps you hoped the worst that would happen is he would kiss you softly and instruct that you both go to bed in separate rooms, that more carnal needs could be discussed at a later date.

           Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to feel Laszlo shift and harden beneath you, eyes growing so dark they were nearly completely black, and have him reach his hand to curl around the back of your neck.

           And you certainly didn’t expect the deep growl that escaped him as his lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with yours frantically, animalistically.

           Neither of you had experience, you both knew this.

           But you both knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that would be enough to motivate you.

           You both took what you could, Laszlo leaving your lips to reach what he could of your neck, lavishing it with lips and tongue. He explored expertly, quickly learning what you liked based upon the quickening of your breath, of your pulse. What was left of his analytical mind was fascinated by the chain reaction of events, how you spurred each other on.

           When he nipped at your ear, your hips rolled uncontrollably, and a rough groan escaped him unconsciously.

           Fascinating indeed.

           He panicked slightly when you stood, wondering if he had stepped too far. The panic raised as you strode across his study, heading quickly to the door.

           “Wait, my dear, I-“

           “Calm down, Laszlo,” you hushed him, and he heard a loud click of the door locking from where he sat. “I merely don’t wish to be interrupted. If this is still what you wish.”

           He leans back in his chair, breathing heavily, observing you as you stand once again before him. “I should be asking you what you want, my darling.”

           You grin, shaking your head. “Was my speech before not enough for you to know what I want, Doctor Kreizler? Can you not infer exactly what I want from you from the writings in my journal? It’s your turn to share, else I might just leave you like this.”

           His good hand involuntarily juts forward, grasping yours desperately.

           “Don’t you dare.”

           You giggle, and he smiles at the sound.

           “Then, tell me what you wish, Doctor.”

           “I wish…” he trails off, watching as your hands move upward to begin slowly undressing yourself.

           “Yes?” You prompt him teasingly, continuing your motions. “Don’t mind me.”

           Laszlo shifts in his chair, erection clearly visible by the bulge in his slacks. “I…I wish…” his voice trails off again as his eyes take in every inch of your skin that’s uncovered. “I wish to be with you in every manner. Intellectually, spiritually, physically. I wish to connect with you in a way I never will with any other living creature on this Earth. I wish to feel you around me, to bring you to climax. I wish to fill you, to be yours, to fuck you, to make you Mrs. Kreizler…”

           He stops at that, only becoming aware of his own ramblings you straddled him once again, completely nude.

           The faintest voice in his head wondered if you made him stupid, but it was silence as his eyes took you in completely.

           “You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever been graced with seeing, my love.”

           You pull him in to a languid kiss, gently tasting each other as your hand travels down his chest.

           “You speak of love, of my being Mrs. Kreizler…” you start, almost losing your train of thought as you feel him twitch beneath you, your hips rolling to meet his. “Another day I’ll ask you to remind me of those words. But for now…” you lean forward, mouth grazing his ear, causing him to shiver. “I need you to fuck me, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.”

           For all of your faith in him, you don’t expect the next feat of strength.

           With only his good arm he manages to lift the pair of you from the chair, quickly placing you upwards and onto the desk of his own study, mindless of the papers underneath you, of any others that might be in the building as you shriek in surprise.

           He captures your mouth with his, more forceful, captivating, as his good hand explores your form, grasping both of your breasts before heading downwards to the warmth between your thighs. His fingers collect some of the wetness that had escaped your folds and examines it with an almost mocking scientific fascination.

           “Is this all for me, my darling?” he questions, and you find yourself at a loss for words as he curiously lifts his fingers to his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting you off of them.

           “Fuck, Laszlo,” you whisper, reaching forward to pull him in for a kiss again as he chuckles darkly against you.

           His teasing ends when your hands wander downward, now working at the buttons of his slacks frantically, your palm grazing across his length through his pants, causing him to gasp.

           “My God,” he pants out, and you pull him out of his slacks. He’s hard, warm, rigid in your palm, with veins and girth that you hadn’t imagined in any of your fantasies, but was now all you could imagine filling you, ending that emptiness that you felt.

           “Please,” you whimper, and he gently removes your hand, before lining his cock up with your entrance.

           He meets your eyes, checking one last time to ensure this was what you wanted.

           “Laszlo, please –“your begging is cut short as he breaches you slowly, pushing his full weight forward as the pair of you connect.

           It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

           A tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, your mind repeating an endless mantra of “Laszlo”, which you realize, when he’s fully inside, flush against you, that you’re muttering out loud.

           “Oh, my love,” he breathes, his damaged arm lightly resting on your thigh, his other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be marks.

           “You feel so right,” you mindlessly breathe, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you at the comment. You would remember that he likes praise, but…

“I don’t know that I will last long, my love,” Laszlo warns, his voice low, gravely, warm against your neck as he buries his face into it, pressing kisses into the skin of your shoulder.

It crosses your mind that you’re completely nude and he’s fully clothed, but the thought fills you with warmth rather than disappointment.

“Nor will I, but this will happen again, won’t it?” you question, a hint of doubt crossing your voice.

The Doctor silences it immediately, kissing you deeply. “Every night, every hour if you would let me, my darling. You are so wonderful…”

“Then please, fuck me Laszlo. I want to cum, I want you to fill me, I – oh!”

The first snap of his hips was relentless, and it was only more intense from there.

He was strong, sure of his movements, chasing his own pleasure and encouraging yours as much as he could, pressing kisses into your neck, your breasts, your lips, his good hand finding your hair tightly. Broken moans left you as dark, rasping breaths escaped him, and it was all too soon before you felt your peak approaching, familiar with the sensation from lonely nights with your own hand curiously working against yourself.

“Laszlo, Doctor Kreizler, I-“ at your moaning of his title, something in him snapped, and his teeth sunk into where your neck met your shoulder.

A deep cry left you as you reached your climax, a white-hot rush waving over you.

As your cunt clenched around him, Laszlo lost himself, growling his native German tongue as he lost his rhythm, heat filling you as he came.

You two didn’t have much time to come down from your highs, as the door to his home could be heard opening and closing from the floors below.

“Doctor Kreizler?” Sara Howard could be heard calling.

Your eyes wide, you rushed to put yourself back together, close wrinkled, roughly thrown back on and your hair being a wreck. You hoped you could pass it off as merely the result of a rough day, an intense mental break.

You turned to Kreizler, who was a picture of perfection, seeming to not be rattled by the events before…almost.

           “Back to the case…?” he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty, and you smiled fondly at the terribly awkward, intelligent man before you.

           You step forward and kiss him softly, the warmth between your legs and bruises on your thigh a reminder of what had just occurred.

           “Back to the case. We can continue our escapades when it’s all over, Doctor.”

           He chuckles, confidence returning to him as he nods. “I look forward to it.”