#he really just wants to focus on anything but the goddamn tension

[ivycorp]

@paraxodicalundressing I could not resist

[strwberri-milk]

a/n: cue me listening to the same secret time over and over to put me in the right mindframe for this bc I don’t have either of the cards for the AB set for this goddamn FISH – im still learning about him/specifically abysswalker raf as well bc I know nothing outside this audio so there are indeed going to be some growing pains uwu im still learning his voice but im in love w him <3

Wrapped in Moonlight

AO3 || Rafayel x Fem!Reader || Soft Smut, Mild Angst || 3, 503 Words

additional tags: accidental mask kink, fingering, vaginal sex, first time having sex [w/ e/o], first kiss [w/ e/o], rafayels acc so in love with you, i like the moon and havent ever had to write a lot of water motifs before

The dull thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears has never been louder, not until this moment here, with you.

Your eyes look up at him from where you lay on your bed, teeth lightly worrying over your lips as you take a deep breath, shaking your head as though to shake away the words that had his feet planted firmly on the ground. You’d taken to summoning him more often as of late and even if he could, he would never reject your requests. Rafayel knew that it was dangerous but he couldn’t think to care, beginning to crave being by your side in ways that drove him mad.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. Please, just forget I even said anything,” you begin to plead, averting his gaze and retreating further into your lush sheets. Sheets he knows the feeling of, the barely there warmth that his fingertips longed to feel, his resolve cracking every time you sleepily ask him to stay until you fall asleep.

“Your Highness doesn’t think I’d really be able to forget such a request, does she?” he decides to say instead, wanting to lean into a slightly more playful side of his persona to cope with the swell of emotions crashing down into his chest.

You stay silent and he decides to take this opportunity to step closer. His gloved hand parts the beaded curtain, your breath catching in your chest as you see the way the candle’s light faintly illuminating his face. Rafayel’s eyes are intense, something you’ve always noticed when he looks at you. All thoughts begin to cease as soon as his eyes meet yours, leaning in closer to you.

“Did you really think that I’d forget that you asked me to kiss you?”

The words hang heavy between the two of you, an unnamed but not unnoticed tension sitting on your shoulders once again. It felt like the two of you were constantly doing some song and dance, skirting around the way you both felt about each other. He looks like he’s got something more to say, watching you intently before stepping away. The clicking of the curtains gives you something else to focus on as you try to still your erratic heartbeat, hearing him draw the curtains to your room open at the same time as him blowing out the candles.

He stands in your window for a moment, the moon’s light wrapping around him so intimately you can’t help but be jealous. You shift in your bed, unconsciously crawling towards him. The sound makes him turn to look at you, hues coloured with something you can’t quite understand. You think you’ll drown in the depths of them but you can’t be bothered to care. If it meant being able to touch him, even for just a moment then you’d be more than willing to suffer that consequence.

“Rafayel, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just didn’t think before I spoke.”

And you couldn’t, not when he looked at you like he wanted to devour you or whenever he’d touch you gently to reassure you of his presence.

Silence and tension continue to colour the air between the two of you and you have a fleeting thought that this might be the last time you ever see him. You couldn’t ever summon him again, not after leaving things like this. Rafayel can feel your eyes flitting over his figure, imagines that you’re committing his features to memory.

“It’s quite the opposite,” he admits after some time, long strides closing the distance between the two of you in no time.

You find yourself being pushed back against the bed. Slowly, Rafayel pushes you to lay on your pillow, staring up at him in the moon’s light. He looks ethereal like this and you can’t imagine how you’re still capable of any sort of thinking right now.

A slight chuckle leaves his lips at the sight of your eyes widening. His hand goes to cup your face, leaning in so close your noses would be touching were it not for that infuriating piece of leather that keeps your breaths from intermingling. You have half a mind to ask him again, this time in the form of a wish to see if he’ll accept but you feel your mind go blank as you feel him press his face against your neck.

“What are you-”

Your words devolve to gasps, hands going to cling onto his shoulders as you feel him periodically press a little harder against your skin. If you close your eyes and really focus you think you can feel his lips pressing against the leather, kissing you through his mask. His breath rings in your ear, you trying to keep your gasps quiet to avoid drawing attention to your chambers.  

���Fulfilling Your Highness’ wish. Is that not what you wanted?”

You know that even this much is more than you could ever ask for, Rafayel always watching you cautiously whenever your hands would near his mask. You understand that he has his reasons for privacy and you would never ask him why but now, you’re just desperate to feel his lips on your skin, desperate to know if it’s as good as you’ve fantasized about. The only solace you get is the warmth of his body seeping through his clothes, teasing the tips of your fingers as you try not to act desperate for more of his touch.

“I can feel you holding back. Don’t tell me Your Highness is getting greedy?” he laughs breathily, the slight pant in his voice unnoticed by you with how divine it feels to be under him.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” you manage to mumble, biting back a slight moan when you feel his arm creep under your back and push you closer to his face.

“Hate you?”

The words leave his throat almost bloody. Just the sheer thought of hating you made his stomach churn, murky waters of his affection for you maddened that you could ever think such a thing. His hands tighten their grip on your body to a way that’s almost painful, looking up at you with a look that has so much want in it that it steals the breath out of your lungs.

“I could never hate you.”

His hair tickles your throat as you feel him settle against your neck, nuzzling into you and resting his hand on your waist. You try to turn to face him but the weight of his body stops you, Rafayel giving you a sound of disagreement.

“I told you already. It’s quite the opposite.”

You try to ask him to clarify, about to open your mouth when you he quickly gets up. He looks at you quickly before going to look around your room, shaking his head good naturedly at the slight furrow of your brows and parted lips. You watch him rummage through your things, getting even more confused when he returns with a strip of ribbon between his fingers.

He crawls over your body again, tilting your chin with his knuckles. You think you’re imagining it in the low light but the apples of his cheeks seem tinted red. Curious, you bring your hand up to the side of his face. You’re glad that he doesn’t seem to be flinching away from your touch. A smile graces your lips when you feel how warm his face is, Rafayel now pulling away from you slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, a slight pout in his voice.

“You’re warm,” you laugh, bringing your hand closer to his face.

Your fingers brush against his ear, sure with how warm they are that he’s bright red. Your fingers trail down the curves, nail tracing the shape of his jaw down to his collar. He doesn’t shy away. Instead, his hand goes to grab your wrist, the ribbon tickling your skin as he leans in closer.

“This is your fault. You know that, right?” he scolds lightly.

“If it weren’t for you my heart wouldn’t feel like a hurricane over the ocean. Do you feel that?”

He brings your wrist over to rest on his chest, your palm resting over his heart. True to his word you can feel his heart pounding under your fingers. He presses his chest against you, brows furrowing as your fingers press against him.

“You should be more understanding, Your Highness. You can’t just do these things to people and leave them washed up on the beach during low tide. It’s cruel.”

The way he pitches his voice in your ear makes you swoon and you’re glad you’re already laying down. Your knees feel weak and you barely register his thumbs tracing a smooth line across your cheek. You’re both so close to each other that you’re suffocating in his presence.

“Are you willing to face the consequences?” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Weakly, you nod. With this, he brings both his hands to your face and suddenly you have your vision obscured by the ribbon he pulled out earlier. You bring your hands up to reach for it, immediately stopped by his strong grip.

“You said you’d be willing to accept it. You trust me, don’t you?”

His voice is raspy, laced with something more than just the question he’s asked you. There’s a weight to his words, something dragging down the vowels and accentuating the bite of his consonants. Your breath is caught in your throat as you wait for him to finish tying the ribbon behind your head, whimpering softly when he brings his thumb to press against your bottom lip.

Forced to wait, you try to imagine what he might do now. Your mind runs wild, barely listening to the sounds around you when you feel his weight on your body again. You reach out for him but gasp when you feel his lips press against your bare skin. The sound is indecent and you’re embarrassed you were even capable of making it but when you try to hide it you feel him bite you, squeaking in response.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear your voice. Don’t you think I deserve a bit of a reward for this?”

He continues to litter your skin in featherlight kisses, and you realise that his clothes don’t seem as thick as they usually are. You can feel his skin through the thinner layers, about to say something when his lips press against yours. It’s soft, barely there but the contact is enough to make your mind spin. You get the sense that he’s testing your boundaries and before he can pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, kissing him more insistently this time.

“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, but I think it’s more exciting this way, don’t you think? This way, you’re forced to guess what I’m going to do next to you,” he breathes against you when he finally pulls back.

“You just like teasing me,” you mutter, scared to admit just how much you liked this and wanted him to keep going.

“I’m just trying to get revenge on you. You’ve been teasing me too! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this.”

He starts to trail kisses down your neck again, sucking gently against your collar. As much as he would like to, he can’t leave any marks on your skin. Something even semi-permanent like that seems far too cruel for someone like him to leave on someone like you. He reveres you and you can feel it in the way he kisses you, showering your body in an affection he’s never felt for anybody else.

“Rafayel – please –” you whimper, his name coming off your tongue his own siren song.  

“Please what? I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me,” he hums, hand going to play with the fabric beginning to bunch under your waist.

He slots himself between your legs and your knees rest against his hips. You wish you could see him, look at the expression on his face. You wish you could watch him press kisses to your skin, watch his fingers tighten against you the way they are now, the way his nails scratch lightly against your skin between the slits of your nightgown.

“More, please,” he hears you ask weakly. “I need more of you. Rafayel? Please?”

He thinks he should tease you more but considering your current state and his own desperation he decides not to. Instead, he pushes up the fabric on your legs slowly, trying to see if you’ll stop him. When you don’t and instead try to egg him on by making it easier for him, he lets his hands rest on your thighs now laid bare for his hungry gaze.

“Are you sure? This is really something you want?”

The question is desperate, Rafayel not knowing if he wants you to stop him or not. His body longs to be pressed against yours, to make you say his name that prettily over and over again. He thinks he’ll die if he can’t have it, kissing lower and lower over the fabric on your chest to convince you to say yes.

He doesn’t know that he doesn’t have to fight that hard for you.

You clasp your fingers with his, bringing them to rest on the inside of your thighs. He’s glad he can’t see the look in your eyes, knowing that if he did it’d make all of his resolve crack if this is how bold you’re already being without being able to see the effect you have on him.

Tentatively, he brings his fingers closer to the heat burning between your legs. It doesn’t take him long to feel the damp spot between your legs and recognise that it’s getting damper with each kiss he gives you. You start to whine as his fingers tease your slit through your underwear, your body feeling things you didn’t know you could feel just with his touch.

“I didn’t know you were capable of such dirty things Your Highness.”

Despite his teasing words, you can tell he wants it just as much when he slips his fingers between the fabric and your body, fingers haphazardly exploring your body as he kisses your lips again. He swallows each moan you give him desperately, relishing in the whimper you give him when his fingertips start circling your clit.

“You’re the one doing this to me,” you whine, hips bucking against his palm as his fingers slip inside.

“You’re the one who started this. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to,” he mumbles against your neck.

Your moans are louder now and as much as he’d love to have everyone hear how good he makes you feel he also would hate it if your maid came in and saw what was happening. He covers your mouth with his free hand, ignoring the way it feels to have your gasps pressed up against his palm. He wants to ruin you, make you cry and scream from pleasure and have you be his for the rest of time but here, in the quiet of your bedroom he’ll settle for just this for now.

His hand stays focused, letting you moan and gasp into his palm as he fingers you. You feel his palm rest against your body, thumb replacing his finger as he the heel to rest against your core. He can make out gasps of his name when he hits a certain part inside of you and decides it’s too cruel to keep your mouth covered like this. You immediately moan his name, quieter this time to avoid being heard by your staff.

You clench around his fingers, the hand not bracing against his chest going to grab his wrist. Rafayel gives you a breathy laugh and you bury your face against his neck, continuing to moan and plead for him quietly.

“Please – Rafayel – I –“

Your own words are cut off quickly by your impending orgasm, biting into his shoulder to try and hold back your noises as your hips arch into him. The bite of your clothes against your skin as you writhe does nothing to impede the feeling of his hand on your cunt, Rafayel’s voice gently talking you through your orgasm. Stars litter the space of your eyelids, Rafayel’s arm coming to hold you against him.

When you finally come down you find yourself placed carefully in Rafayel’s lap. He’s taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, gently tracing shapes on the skin of your lower back. Your blindfold is still on but you don’t doubt that the hard planes of your bed is Rafayel and when you hear his voice come from just above you you know you’re right.

“You’re awful to me, did you know that?” he muses, groaning slightly when you reposition yourself slightly and brush up against his cock.

“Stop that! I can’t believe you right now.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable! This is just as much your fault as it is mine,” you say hazily.

You sit up on your knees, carefully putting your arms around his shoulders. You reach behind yourself to touch him, shuddering at the gasp he gives you against your arm. You feel his tip prodding gently against your opening, sinking down slightly. When you hear him gasp again you know you have him where you want him.

“You really want this?” you ask him huskily, mirroring his words from before.

Your hand rests on his cheek and you can feel him nod, continuing your slow descent onto his lap. It takes you a second to adjust to his size, hugging his neck tighter as you moan. His hands come to rest on your hips and he shifts slightly to create a better angle for himself. This makes him sink into you just the slightest bit deeper, you whimpering pathetically as he starts a slow, languid pace thrusting into you.

“Rafayel!” you gasp, hands bunching in his hair as you let him dictate the pace.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, Your Highness. I’m here for you. Don’t worry – I’ll make you feel good. You know I will,” he mutters into your ear, continuing his gentle grind into you.

For the umpteenth time you wish that you could see him. For now, you have to sate yourself with his pretty moans and gasps, the way he feels inside of you and the affectionate kisses he peppers across your skin. Thanks to his pace you feel yourself coming to a slow build of your orgasm, his soft words of praise and coaxes going straight to your cunt. He groans every time you clench around him, the feeling of your pussy finally being wrapped around him making it hard for his mind to stop swimming.

He angles his hips to find that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, bringing a hand down to your clit despite how much he loves holding you because he knows he’ll love the feeling of you cumming around him more. When you give him a sharp gasp he knows he’s found it, thrusting more insistently. You grind against his pelvis, not wanting it to be over too quickly but still desperate for your release.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Rafayel asks, pulling you out of the depths of your stupor just barely.

“I can feel it. You’re getting so tight around me – if you squeeze me like this then I’ll cum too. It’s okay, just let go. I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I? You’ve already done so well. Just a little bit more, okay?” he coaxes, the sound of his voice tipping you over the edge.

You cum with a broken cry of his name, holding onto his shoulders tightly. It takes him just a couple more strokes inside of you to cum himself, unable to think of anything but filling you up and claiming you as his in this small way. The two of you sit together, coming down from your shared high. You whine a little about still wearing the blindfold but that’s quickly quieted by him kissing you again, telling you that it’s part of the condition for him kissing you.

Your breathing slows together and after a minute he feels you becoming dead weight. He laughs to himself when he realises that you’ve fallen asleep on him, carefully moving you aside to lay you back down on your bed. After cleaning the two of you up and tucking you into bed he gives you one final kiss to your forehead. You make a small noise of complaint, Rafayel kneeling at the side of your bed to take one last look at you for the night. His hand rests on your cheek softly, pretending that this didn’t drastically change everything.

“I love you. Sleep well, my Princess,” he whispers, the far away sound of waves lapping on a shore the only witness to his words.  

[vivwritesfics]

hi 🥹🥹 idk if this is okay but can i request a os ( or a series if you think it’s worthy, you decide ! ) where lando and yn are exes and they meet during a party after soooo many years and they are still super angry at each other (no cheating because i read your rules but idk, maybe they broke up because of distance?? or lando wanted to focus on his career ??). Despite that, tension builds up and they end up having sex all night and then they confess they never forget each other and idk a lil happy ending?

a right person wrong time ex lovers to enemies to lovers again sort of idk ahahahahahah

love youuuuuu

I've been pretty away from things for the last two days and I'm sorry, but hoping to get back on track real soon

Verstappen reader

Warnings: light smut, fingering

When you break up with someone you're still in love with, it sucks. It really fucking sucks. So much that it's easier to let yourself hate them than miss them.

It was years ago, but she still hated him. And seeing him on her television so often made her hate him more. It would have been easier if he hated her too, but he didn't. Her brother made sure she was aware of it.

She'd managed to avoid races, has done for years at this point. But Max was about to win his third championship, and he wanted her there for it.

So, he flew her out to Qatar.

For the entire race weekend, she ignored him. She ignored him with everything she had. Hiding out in the Red Bull garage, walking the other way whenever anybody dressed in orange came towards her.

But then Max won the goddamn championship. That wasn't what she was mad about. She was so fucking happy that her big brother had won the championship. She couldn't say no to going out partying with him.

Neither could Lando, either.

He didn't know she was going to be there, didn't know that she was even in the country. But, the moment his eyes met hers, fuck. He couldn't stop himself from striding over to her, drink in hand.

"Hey," he said, a little breathlessly. Well, she she looked incredibly fucking good.

Her hand reached out and struck his face. Lando held his cheek as he looked down at her. "What was that for?" He asked, but he knew. He knew how he had fucked up and he regretted it so much.

""Fuck you," she spat, stepping closer. But then she backed off to find her brother.

The night kept going on like this. They kept running into each other, dancing together for just a few minutes before she remembered who she was with and backed off.

Lando hadn't kissed her at the end of the night. He hadn't climbed into her lap as she sat in a booth (something she did to her). With her situated in his lap, hands on the back of his neck, she pressed her lips to his own.

"Fuck," he grunted against her lips as he grabbed her waist.

She whimpered and began trailing kisses down his neck. "Take me to your room, Lan," she whispered.

Her voice was so soft, how could he ever say no?

That was how she ended up in his hotel. Lando laid her on his bed, his hands touching her like he hadn't forgotten how. She moaned as he pulled down her underwear, his hands touching her thighs. Even this was better than anything she'd had in the years since they broke up.

"I've missed this," he whispered as his finger ran through her folds. She tossed her head back as he felt just how wet she was.

Fuck, he needed her now.

Lando dropped his trousers. He slowly and gently thrust his fingers into her, opening her up before he entered her.

It was like he was made to fill her. And he did, over and over again, until the sun shone through the window and light filled the room.

The new day came a new sense of clarity. She'd fucked her ex. Who the hell made the mistake of sleeping with their ex? She couldn't help but feel stupid as she looked at him, sleeping in the bed beside her. She'd missed him, so damn much.

But he was the one who didn't want her.

As she slipped out of the bed, a hand reached for her. "Don't go," he said. "Stay with me, please."

She couldn't stop herself from letting a sigh loose from her lips. "Why should I, Lan?" She couldn't stop the nickname from slipping out. "You don't want me, so why should I?"

He couldn't help but groan. "I do want you," he said.

She pulled away from him and gathered her clothes up from the floor. "Then start acting like it."

[zeltqz]

who’s caving first? || haruchiyo sanzu.

S U M M A R Y: When Sanzu only wants to spend time with his sister to get to her best friend .

W A R N I N G S - oral sex (face sitting), haruchiyo is desperate, so is reader, senju is innocent bless her, rough sex, fem!reader, pet names, teasing, sexual tension, slight enemies to lovers —you gotta squint tho—

W O R D C O U N T - 6K YEEAH

N O T E S - im actually really proud of this. HEHEHE HOPE U GUYS LIKE <333333. Also if there’s any typos pls ignore. I’m so tired rn

T A G G I N G - @magentaviolette @gajeelstan @nalyana @luvhaitani @keisaint @imjustaweirdnerd

“…chiyo. Haruchiyo!”

Sanzu snaps his head up to his sister as she’s giving him a confused yet disappointed look. “What?”

“What?” Senju scoffs, “what do you mean what? You asked to come over for ‘bonding time’, now you’re not even paying attention!! What the hell Haruuuu--“

Ugh. She’s whining again. Haruchiyo fights the urge to tell her to shut up, instead he puts on his best poker face. “Sorry, I got a little distracted.” He continues swiping the egg wash on the crust of the pastry. 

“Hm, with what?” Senju rolls the dough between her hands, cringing at the way the flour sticks under her acrylics. It’s going to be a pain to clean that up later. 

“My…thoughts.”

He’s not lying. If his thoughts were a person called Y/N, then he’s on point. It’s hard for him to focus on literally anything from the way at this angle he’s standing at, he has perfect access to Senju’s backyard. By the pool, you’re too engrossed by your phone to notice the way he is staring at you from over the top of Senju’s head.

Ah, great. He’s distracted again, too focused on the way your feet are kicking the water from where you sit at the pool ledge. Each splash generates a ripple that flows for a couple seconds before disbanding. It’s not the water physics he’s distracted by.

It’s what you’re wearing .

Of course it wouldn’t be appropriate to be wearing something baggy and flimsy during summer—especially if you’re by a pool. But you really didn’t have to wear something so revealing. It’s killing him inside knowing that you’re off limits because you’re ‘Senju’s friend’. That stupid rule made by literally nobody but society. He’s not sure if Senju cares or not if he fucks you, but it’s still an awkward thing to ask someone. 

Sanzu looks down at the small bowl where the egg wash is—was. Now empty as he’s been mindlessly brushing the liquid onto each pastry that Senju placed onto the tray.

“Oh, is it finished?” Senju has to place her hands on the counter to lift herself up a little bit to see over the bowl from where its placed by Haruchiyo. The empty carton of eggs next to his hands also  catching her eye.  “We ran out of eggs too… Y/N!”

“What?!” You call from outside, still engrossed in your phone. The slightest faintest smile is on your face as you bite your lip reading your messages. 

Haruchiyo can feel his fingers tighten against the handle of the basting brush. His lips curling downwards into a frown, eyes narrowing when he sees you giggle into your palm.  Who the fuck are you talking to--

“I need you to go to the store for me!” Senju’s loud voice reminds Haruchiyo to keep his poker face back up, masking his true hidden intentions, the real reason why he came here.

No, he doesn’t care about bonding time with his sister, nor does he care for some goddamn pastries. What he does care about, is getting a taste of you, a glimmer of body underneath him, hear your moans as he fucks you slowly—or do you like it rough and hard? He can feel his cock twitch in his pants when you enter through the sliding doors, readjusting your bikini top straps over your shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way the strap exposed a little bit of your right boob from the movement. 

“Store? For what?” You don’t pay Haruchiyo anymind at all, and he doesn’t like it. Maybe because you know what he’s here for or maybe because you just don’t like him. The second option seems more appropriate—the first option would only suffice if you were a mind-reader or psychic (highly unlikely).

It’s safe to say that Haruchiyo isn’t the most approachable person. You initially tried to become his friend now that you were best friends with his sister, but he never showed you any mind. 

Maybe it’s because of the way you dressed? Looking back, three years ago, you weren’t the best dressed… only wearing baggy shirts and trousers to cover up because the boys at your school were complete total perverts. Senju understood, she even joined you in the baggy shirt gang club whatever stupid nickname you both called it.

It was dumb, you looked homeless at times, wearing clothes twice your size with no makeup done because who were you trying to impress? That’s probably the reason you think Haruchiyo doesn’t like you.

According to Haruchiyo’s sources—it was correct. He hated the way you dressed, because you reminded him of his god-awful sister. The two of you would wear the same hideously big clothes and it just looked awful. He hated it. He hated you. He hated his sister.

Hanging out with the Haitani’s (not willingly—it was more mandatory by Manjiro, to get along for the ‘gang’s sake’) altered his taste in women. Haruchiyo was never one to chase after a woman, like Ran’s sorry ass, or go on his knees and propose to a girl like Rindou’s desperate ass. 

But it was quite clearly obvious that the three of them lived very different lifestyles. Haruchiyo had a simple timetable to follow. Fight. Kill (sometimes). Eat. Sleep. Repeat. 

Boring lifestyle—sure. But he was satisfied. 

The Haitani’s, on the other hand. Go out. Party. Clubs. Sleep with a random chick from said club. Sleep (especially Ran). Simp (cough Rindou). Repeat. It was crazy, but they aren’t called the Rulers of Roppongi for no reason.

It was tiring at first, being out with them almost all day until Ran decided it was time for his slumber. But gradually, he started to enjoy it. He even found himself attending a club on his own once. After a lapdance from one girl and a bunch of hickies from another (at the same time), he then came to the realisation that he loves women. 

Loves them so, so much. 

So when he saw you, without that ridiculous outfit, for the first time. His dick twitched, and he knew what time it was. Sadly enough…the damage was already done. You hated his guts and you assumed he still hated yours after three years of slandering you along with his pain in the ass sister.

It was a bit hurtful, to hear those crude comments about your clothes.The only thing keeping you afloat was you knowing that you didn’t actually dress that way--only to keep all the boys staring another direction and not at your body. 

The second you graduated high school, you never wore those hideous outfits again. 

“Eggs. Like two more cartons, I think. No--no scratch that. One carton is fine.” Senju washes her hands under the sink, trying to get all the flour and batter off her hands so she can grab her wallet and give it to you.

“One box, okay…” You’re still on that stupid phone. Put the phone down. “The small box or big box?”

“No. Not box, carton! Don’t come back here with 40 eggs in a big box, we’re not a farm. And put the phone down!”

You sigh and turn off your phone. The click your phone made as the screen went black made Sanzu almost shed tear from sheer joy. He silently thanks Senju for that, because now he gets to see your pretty face not smiling down at whoever the fuck you’re texting.

“Okay! One carton. Six eggs or twelve?” You reach your hand out, grabbing Senju’s contactless card from her grasp. The second that card is in your hands, you’re already pulling your phone back out, distracted by another notification.

Sanzu can never win.

“Six. I’m almost done with these pastries. I’m gonna go pack now.” Senju hurries up the stairs, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. 

You can feel him staring at you, despite your eyes fixated on your phone. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable now, feeling his piercing green eyes burn holes into your skull, as if he’s waiting for you to say something. A puff of air escapes your nose as you look up at him, not noticing the way he flicks his gaze up from your chest to your eyes—trying to seem as respectable as possible.

“Do you want something from the store?” You don’t really care if he does or not--you just felt the need to say something to dispose of the awkward air in the room.

 “Nah.” He’s about to run a hand through his hair, only stopping halfway when he can feel the stickiness of the eggs practically glueing his fingers together. “I’ll just wait till you come back.”

“Yeah… speaking of. How long are you planning to stay here? Because Senju leaves for her trip in three hours.”

He shrugs from the sink. “Dunno. I’ll stay however long I want. I pay for this house.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “Actually, Omi does.”

Omi? Oh--his pain in the ass brother. “I own Takeomi, sweetheart.” 

You can’t help but cringe at the nickname. He’s getting way too comfortable for your own good. Sanzu dries his hands using a paper towel, then makes his way onto the couch. For some reason, your eyes follow him the entire time, even subconsciously walking over to the wall that divides the kitchen and the living room, leaning against it as you watch him kick his feet up onto the glass table in front of him. 

“You’re getting awfully cosy. You staying a while?”

However long it takes until I fuck you. 

“Yeah, think so.” 

There’s a thump on the couch next to him as you plop down, resting Senju’s card on the back of your phone case in your right hand. “Any reason for that?”

Sanzu literally cannot focus, cannot keep his eyes on your face—your pretty face. Not the way you’re body is on display like this. He thanks the world for a little something called peripheral vision, making side eye contact with your tits as he’s looking dead in your eye. 

Fuck, they look so pretty, even from the blurred angle. He wonders how they’d feel in his mouth. Are your nipples hard and perky? Or soft and supple? Wonders how they’d feel in his mouth, wonders how they’d feel pushed up against his cock. 

He’s never been tit-fucked before, but he can picture it now. You, on your knees in front of him as you press your tits  together, sliding them up and down his cock to milk hi cum. Fuck—would you lick the cum off your face, or would you let him cum on your tits. 

He has to calm down, he can literally feel himself getting harder as he loses himself in his thoughts. “Reason for what?”

“Reason for staying as long as you want?” You stop and shift so you’re facing him fully now, your arm resting along the back of the couch. 

This angle is even worse. Now he can see the curve of your body from top to bottom. 

“I mean,” he also shifts so he’s facing you fully, “I could say the same about you. After all, this is Senju’s house. You’re also a visitor.”

“But, I’m her friend .”

“And I’m her brother.” 

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you as he talks to you that has you wanting to rub your thighs together. But you know if you did, he’d catch on rather quickly. The last thing you’d want is for him to have something to taunt you with. 

Those three years were painful enough. 

You glare up at him, fingers tightening against your phone before standing up. “I’m going to change.”

Before he could even protest, he was forcefully silenced as he watched you walk away. The view from the back was even better than the front. “Fuck.” He whispers to himself before sinking back into the leather couch. 

He drags his eyes along his sweats, thanking his past self for choosing black sweats today instead of grey. What’s worse than having a boner in grey sweats is being caught having a boner in grey sweats. 

He’s managed to get rid of his boner by the time you’ve come down the stairs, dressing in a simple black hoodie and some matching joggers. 

He’s missing the sight of your body already. 

“Okay, I’m going now.”

The time it takes you to run to the store and back is enough time for Senju to finish packing her bags, asking her brother to help her carry it outside to her car while she takes the pastries out from the oven. Fresh and hot, she packed them in three big clear containers before shoving them inside a plastic bag. 

By the time you walk in through the door, the smell of fresh break and cookies make your mouth water. Then you frown, realising you went all that way for some eggs just for Senju to finish baking. “What the hell, Senju? What did I buy this for?”

“I’m sorry!! I read the timing wrong, I’m supposed to be there in an hour from now, and--” Sanzu places his hand on her shoulder, calming her down. 

“Relax. Go, take your pastries and have fun with your friends.”

He tries his hardest to sound as caring as possible—in actuality he just wants her out of the house now. He finds you’re much easier to break down and get under your skin when Senju isn’t around. This icy cold exterior you create only when she’s there. 

Typical. Acting big and bad in front of a friend, but crumble the moment they’ve left. 

He can’t wait to push your limits. 

You wave goodbye to Senju and lock the door behind you. Heading straight over to the kitchen, you empty the bag you got from the store, placing the eggs over by the side and taking out your packet of gummies you bought for yourself as a reward for going all that way for Senju. 

She wouldn’t mind if you bought a small treat for yourself. 

You decide to stay in the clothes you went out in, too lazy to go upstairs and change into your pyjamas when what you’re already wearing is comfortable. You manage to watch an entire season of your favourite show, munching on your gummy bears while guessing the flavour as you blindly chew them. A little game you came up with to keep yourself occupied. 

It’s not until it’s dark outside, the flickering lights outside by the pool illuminating to light up the backyard. You notice it’s been fairly quiet around the house—and that’s odd because you have a visitor. 

You haven’t seen him since Senju left, and that was-- you pick up your phone from where it was sitting next to your legs and turn it on to read the time--yeah, it’s been almost 8 hours since she left and there’s been no sign of him. 

That’s odd. 

The flicker from one of the bulbs outside catches your eye, reminding you it’s time to head upstairs. That light always creeps you out whenever you’re over here. Grabbing your blanket and your phone, you start to make your way up the stairs to Senju’s room. 

She allows you to sleep there whenever you’re staying over. Your roommates over at your house are too annoying to deal with, so you come over to hers to lay off steam. You weren’t expecting her older brother to be here though. 

Humming the theme song of the show you were watching, you reach the top of the staircase, only to bump into a hard figure. Your eyes were so fixated on the ground you didn’t notice Sanzu was actually on his way downstairs, preoccupied on his own phone. 

The reason you almost stumbled down the stairs wasn’t because of the contact, but instead the shiver tracing a slow line down the length of your spine as you stared up at him shirtless. The initial shock is what causes you to almost stumble down, but then he reaches out quickly, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you back up to the top.

“Y’alright?” It’s a simple question that deserves a simple answer. It’s a shame your brain isn’t functioning at the moment, eyes too focused on the way the water from the shower he just took drips down his chest, tracing over the very faint lines of his abs. To be honest--you were not expecting this. He never seemed like the type to work out, a very lanky individual, but the physique he wears is almost perfect.

His body is nothing too flashy, yet you can already imagine placing your hands on his chest, running your fingers through the indents of his faint ab outline. The water drops just make it even hotter aswell—your dirty brain replaces that with the moisture coming from your tongue as you mark up his chest with kisses.

You shake your head. No, this is wrong. This is your best friend's brother, but he’s so hot— “No.”

“What?”

You snap your mouth shut, realising you spoke out loud. Sanzu looks down at you, a confused glimmer in his eye as he tightens his hold on your wrist, repeating his question. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Oh.” Yeah, m’alright. You forget to voice the words outloud, only realising you spoke in your head when Sanzu doesn’t let go of your wrist, actively seeking your answer. “Fuck--sorry I gotta go.” His grip on your wrist slips rather easily as you slide your body past his to get past the stairs, heading straight towards Senju’s room. 

Your body makes contact with the door as you lock it from behind you and slide down the door onto the floor. You fight the urge to scream into your hands. You’re a sick human being. Thinking about kissing your best friend’s brother’s chest? Do you have no shame?

It’s embarrassing. Senju’s been such a great person to you throughout your entire friendship, and to think this is how you repay her. You slide into her bed, hoping and praying that these thoughts were a one-time thing. When you wake up tomorrow, he will be ugly Sanzu again--the one that makes your blood boil just hearing his name, the one who’s so hideously attractive it makes your thighs rub together to stop that tingle from reaching your pussy.

That Sanzu .

Morning comes and you’re eager to go downstairs, hoping that your prayers have been answered. Sanzu would be back to being hideous and you could spend your week here in peace with 0 dirty thoughts. Easier said than done right?

He’s still shirtless. All morning. Afternoon too. And evening. 

This is getting ridiculous at this point. Like it is hot outside, but to be shirtless all fucking day? C’mon. He has to be doing this on purpose. He must’ve seen the way your brain short circuited last night on the staircase with just a glimpse of his chest that was even barely visible due to the darkness from the lack of lightbulbs in the hallway. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. 

You disregard everything your brain was convincing you not to do yesterday, and chose to walk around the next day in just a t-shirt and panties. Is this a little weird? Yes. Are you going to stop? No. You could feel his gaze on you—well on your ass and thighs, the t-shirt riding up your thighs with every movement you made, exposing more of your skin to him.

Sanzu couldn’t help but think you had beaten him at his own game. It’s no secret he did walk around shirtless to try and fluster you, but you managed to compose yourself. But him right now? Seeing you in just a tight shirt with straight up panties underneath—fuck they were black too. His weakness.

He can’t take it anymore. It’s only been a couple hours and he’s already giving up on the imaginary game you both created. 

“Turn around.” 

You pause your movements, hand frozen over the freezer door. Over the curve of your shoulder, you can see him standing behind you, wearing a shirt this time. It’s a shame honestly, but you’re not complaining. No more temptation.

“What do you want?” You choose to ignore him, bending down to the bottom shelf of the freezer to pull out a popsicle. It was extra hot today, you needed something cold to suck on. You know he’s staring at your shirt as it lifts up over your ass, exposing your panties on full display. You know the popsicles are in the top drawer--but that doesn’t stop you.

By the time you grab the one you wanted, you take a stand up and take a step back to close the freezer door only to walk right into his chest. You’re about to make a witty smark remark about how he needs to learn personal space, when he leans forward, his chest pressing against your back. The words die down in your throat as he practically pushes you up against the freezer. His hands slide down your body slowly, too slow for your liking. His fingers slide down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up slightly before sliding his fingers up your stomach. You can’t breathe like this, breaths come out heavy as you try to focus on the feeling of his hands tracing onto your stomach. They leave your stomach, sliding down to your hips where he dips a finger underneath the fabric, lightly touching your skin with soft touches that have you burning up with heat. 

His fingers feel so… you can’t even describe it. It’s only a couple touches and you already feel your panties getting damper with every lingering touch he gives you. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as he begins to press kisses down your neck. From this angle, it’s a little uncomfortable having to strain your neck all the way back to give him more access--but it’s worth it. It’s so worth it. His soft lips feel 100x better than the simple touches of his fingers.

You swear the heat radiating off your body is enough to match the weather outside, you feel the packet of your popsicle start to drip as it starts melting.

You bite back a moan as his fingers slide down to your panties, about to press onto your clit before the heat suddenly disappears and it’s now you can feel the cold press of the popsicle packet digging into the skin of your fingers. Coming back to your senses, you lift your head back from his shoulder and open your eyes. You didn’t even realise you had closed them. Fucking Haruchiyo .

“Excuse me,” he says, opening the freezer door. You stand there, jaw dropped to the ground as you watch him pull out a packet of frozen peas from the drawer. 

“Are you—are you kidding me?” 

“What?” He asks almost like he’s genuinely confused as to why you’re reacting this way. 

“Why did you-- you kissed me!”

“I needed to get past the freezer.” He laughs, biting his bottom lip as he watches your whole world unravel and fall apart. It’s working. Ran’s advice is working. Get her needy and desperate for you, then she’ll come begging to you for more. He can see it in your eyes if your voice wasn’t enough evidence as is. The way it wavers ever so lightly, voice a tad bit higher than your normal pitch, the way your chest is still rising and falling faster than usual. This was so brilliant. 

“You don’t s-seduce people into moving out of the way, Sanzu.” 

The stutter? God, you were easier to break apart than he thought. “Yeah?” He steps closer to you, towering over you as he watches you try your best to keep a decent poker face on, meeting him head on with a stern expression, only to fail the moment his hands land on your hips. “Who said I was seducing you? That sounds like a you problem right there.”

Oh this fucker . You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s met his match alright, thinking he can play you, then get you to question whether or not your feelings are real or not from his actions.

“It’s not?” You alter your voice slightly, getting on your tiptoes to make your move—or better yet leave your mark. You brush your lips against his neck ever so slightly, feeling him tense up as the hot air from your nose tickled his skin. Holding the popsicle in one hand, you use the other to run your fingers through his long hair, kissing the smooth skin on his neck ever so lightly. Using the same feather light he kisses he littered all over your body.

Sanzu bit his lip, grip on your hips tightening as he felt your lips move across the sensitive skin on his neck with his ease. He almost moans when you kiss up to his jaw, tongue licking a stripe up his skin before tracing the length of his jawline with kisses. 

The moment you reached his chin, you pulled back slightly, looking him eye to eye as your lips practically brushed against his own. “Hi.” You whisper, dropping your eyes from his own down to his lips, those same ones that were on your body not that long ago.

His eyes scan over your face, lingering a little too long on your own lips. It makes you feel naked and vulnerable under his stare. It’s overwhelming, yet you find yourself leaning closer, and closer. Your lips touch, but it’s not a kiss. 

You almost have him. So close.

The moment he’s leaning forward, you’re pulling back, arms stretched out as you yawn loudly. “Fuck, I’m so tired.” 

You don’t even get the opportunity to walk away, leaving your plan ticked off with 100% completion, because his fingers are grabbing onto your chin, forcing you to face him as he presses his lips against your own.

In case you tried some slick shit again, he locks you in with a huge hand on your hip as he works his mouth against yours. You drop your popsicle, it lands on the floor with a squelch next to the frozen peas. 

The second it hit the floor, your hands were on him, grabbing onto his hair to scratch at his scalp as he kissed you feverishly. “Fuck…I’ve wanted this—f-for so long.” He pants against your lips, not even giving you a second to respond as his lips are back on your own in a heated makeout. 

Your response is faint whimpers and moans as he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, licking and sucking his way into your greedy mouth. He has an iron grip on your hips as he lifts you up and off the ground, your legs immediately wrap around his waist for support.

You’re being placed onto the couch, back hitting the soft cushions as you scramble up on your elbows to watch as he strips his shirt off. You don’t get time to look at his chest properly this time when his hands wrap around your ankles, tugging you closer to him. You slide off your elbows, back onto your back as he’s hovering over you.

“I wanna get this done quickly--” he’s unbuckling his pants and you watch as he can’t even be bothered to pull them down all the way down and off his legs, reaching inside his back pocket to pull out a condom. “Wanna do the honours?”

You frown, puffing out your upper lip as you grab the condom from his hands, sitting upright as you pull his boxers down. His fingers find themselves on your face, cupping your cheek as he looks down at you, “Why’re poutin’?”

“Because…I expected—y’know…”

“I don’t know.”

You rub your thighs together and watch as his eyebrows raise. “Ah, I get it now.” He takes the condom from your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he pushes you back down onto your back. “You one of those, right?”

“One of what?”

“Foreplay bitches, always want to be carressed and shit, ‘m I right?”

Isn’t that the bare minimum..?? You slowly nod your head and watch him chuckle, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute Y/N. I’ve never done foreplay before, but I’ll try it, for you. Kay?”

“Okay…”

You let him kiss you again, and you can tell he’s genuinely trying this time, his lips feel more tender as they slide against yours. The hairs on his neck stand up when he hears the deep satisfied sigh you let out, hands climbing up his face to cup at his cheeks.

He has a hand sliding down your body to your panties, hooking a finger underneath, pulling back just as fast as it snaps against your skin. You squeal into the kiss, his tongue easily sliding in the moment your mouth opens.

You eagerly suck on his tongue as his fingers slide up your shirt, resting directly atop your boob. He pulls away with a satisfied smirk on his face, “No bra?”

“It’s hot.” You feel him squeeze your boob, moulding it in his hands as he half heartedly listens to what your excuse is. 

“If it’s that hot, you shoulda jus’ walked ‘round shirtless.” He’s sliding your shirt up and over, your arms lift up to allow him to fully remove it. “Fuck—knew you had nice tits.”

“I do?”

“Um, yah.” His chuckle is breathless, seeing you splayed out beneath him…so lewd,so sexy. Just like he’d pictured. Your breasts on full display,all for him. He latches and sucks on your nipple a bit too rough from what you’re used to, but you strangely like it. Liking the way his teeth scrape against your skin, the way his flicks your nipple with his tongue at a pace that shouldn’t even be possible. 

“Oh my god—haru..” You breathe, scowling when he laughs against your nipples. The hot air from his nostrils doing nothing but adding more sensation to your sensitive buds, muscles flexing causing your breast to twitch inside his mouth. 

He continues his ministrations, sliding a hand down past your panties, pressing up against your slit. You can feel him barely digging into your folds, only a light press, can feel the slick sticking to his finger as he drags his hand away from your cunt. You watch with open eyes as he puts it in his mouth---a taste test. 

Something changes inside him. He’s sitting up, dragging you along with him roughly. He’s positioning himself to lay down and you think you can tell what’s about to go down. 

“No.”

“Don’t be a pussy.” He grabs at your hips and pulls you towards him. There’s enough of a gap between your pussy and his face, sliding through that said gap so he’s looking directly up at your clothed pussy. 

“Sit on my face.”

“N-no.”

“Why not.” You gasp when he peels your panties aside, a soft gasp leaving his mouth when he sees just how wet you are. 

“I-it’s embarrassing ..”

He looks around the room dramatically, fingers still digging through your folds carelessly. “Nobody’s here but us princess, now--” He grabs your hips, ignoring your yelp in favour of tugging you flush against his face, “Fuck—that’s it.” 

He begins to eat you out, tongue sliding up and down your folds, loud moans leaving both your mouths; yours are almost sobs, the way he’s fucking into your cunt with his tongue, lips circling around your clit. 

“Fuck—you taste, s’good—s’amazin’ for me.”

“H-haru! Ohmy--“ you’re fighting the urge to rut your hips down, not wanting to suffocate him. Hell, he’d probably like that---the sick bastard. “Yes, yes yes.” You chant over and over again, shamelessly rutting your cunt harder onto his face, to get the feeling of his nose brushing against your clit. “Shit! I’m close—Haru—I’m--“

He moans as he feels your walls clench around his tongue, briefly pulling out to stuff a finger inside, moving at the same pace his tongue was. You moan out his name as you cum on his face, riding out your orgasm as he suctions around your clit, lapping up your juices from your cunt. 

“That was so hot.” He lifts you up and over him, resting you beneath him. He grabs the condom where it dropped on the couch and rips it open, rolling it down his length. He hooks his arms under your thighs to spread you out more, enjoying the view of you spread out, cunt wet and pulsating with the need to be filled. 

“Ready?”

“Yes. Put it in please--“

You scream when he slams himself inside with a simple thrust, his cock curving in all the right directions, tears pool in your eyes as you’re unable to adjust to the stretch of his cock. 

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare yourself, time was already ticking with all that foreplay. He needs to feel you cum around his cock now. His speed is fast, calculated, each slap of his hips against yours reaching directly into your cervix. 

You’re loud. Louder than you’ve ever been before. 

“God—so hot, think I’m gonna cum soon--“ his voice is strained as he fixes his gaze on his cock as it slides in and out of you. He’s holding your legs apart by the ankle, spreading you out in the way he seeks fit. 

You’re not prepared for when he suddenly pressed downwards, folding you in two as he continues his hard thrusts. The couch is shaking as you moan his name out, over and over, the power behind each thrust is harder than the last. 

His rhythm is getting sloppier, you can feel his cock twitching inside you that you know he’s close. What’s his next move--? Will he come inside you? Or pull out and cum on your face? He seems like the type to enjoy facials. 

“S-sanzu--“ you whimper when he looks down at you, “cum on me… please.” You don’t care where at this point--as long as it’s not inside. You’re not ready for that yet.

“Fuck,” he grunts, throwing his head back and repositioning his hips to slam harder into you. You grip onto the nearest cushion, grip so tight you swear you can rip the fabric off if you tried hard enough. “That’s it—cum around my cock, sexy.”

You can’t help it, body spazzing violently as you hide your face with the cushion, muffling out your moans as you cum on his cock. 

His movements still and he’s quick to pull out of you, ripping the condom off and tossing it somewhere across the room. His hands are fast, jerking himself off before he throws his head back, moaning quite loudly as he splashes ropes of cum on your chest, aiming for your nipples but some lands on your stomach. 

“Oh my god.” He watches with wide eyes and heavy breaths as you dip your fingers onto the pool of cum on your chest, scooping some up with two fingers, stuffing them into your mouth, moaning obscenely around your fingers as you suck the residue off.

“Next time,” you take another scoop, but instead of eating it, you play with it, stretching your fingers far apart to see how far it stretches before it eventually snaps, “next time cum inside me.”

“Next time?” He leans forward to kiss you, groaning a bit at the salty taste of his cum, but it fades away with the way you’re licking into his mouth. You hum and nod into the kiss, fingers sliding behind his back to leave scratch marks that have him shuddering.

 You break the kiss to bite at his bottom lip, “Yeah, next time.”

Sanzu thought this would be a one time thing—hit and dip—as the old saying goes. But seeing you there, looking up at him so deviously—he doesn’t think he can fuck another woman that’s not you again. 

[bengiyo]

5 moments from 2023 BL that felt new or different?

I feel so much pressure to do a good job with this one. You're an OG. You've been in this game longer than me. I'm pretty sure you've actually seen more than me.

La Pluie Episode 6

Sure, we've had a lot of sex in BL in recent years. What's special about La Pluie is its willingness to release the sexual tension and explore the emotional space on the other side of that. Tai and Phat actually started making out on the goddamned floor, we got a sneak peak of Saengtai's bulge, and we mentioned that he was still aroused while they were sitting on the couch later. They also talked about what was going on between them and some of Tai's hangups. Usually these shows love to interrupt these moments because they don't know what to do with the characters once they bone. Not this show!

Jong Chan Adapting to Seung Hyun in The New Employee

This wasn't my favorite show of the year, but my man Jon Chan is one of my favorites of the year! I like that he was solidly in his 30s and looking for a partner. I like that he didn't exactly understand all of Seung Hyun's hang-ups about the ex, but decided to let that go and focus on building their future. His exasperation about this felt distinctly gay.

Jim and Li Ming's Relationship in Moonlight Chicken

I like calling Moonlight Chicken a gay family drama more than a BL because I don't think romance is the central driving factor of the show, but it feels like splitting hairs. What is my favorite part of this show is that the only "I love you" said in the show is between Jim and Li Ming. I love that the relationship between a gay man and his gay nephew feels like the heart of the show.

Seo Lee Joon being a Terrible Gay in Love Mate

I know a lot of y'all got your knickers in a knot over the way Ha Ram determinedly pursued Lee Joon, but I feel like we ignored how fucking rude Lee Joon was in this show. This man goes on the apps to flirt with people without making it clear he's only going to date them once before abruptly cutting them off and blocking them. This is mean! We are fucking gay! We have a hookup culture with its own language! This thing where he wants the flavor of first dates and sets up his dates for extreme disappointment is so mean. He was going to make a whole dating app about how bitter he was about his own breakup. This man needed to face his own issues, and I'm glad a stern dicking turned him around.

The Sex Scene in Candy Color Paradox

This is a show that tried and failed to punch above its weight. The leads were too inexperienced to carry a kinda dense script, and they got blown out of the water by the talented Izuka Kenta for about three episodes. It's really unfortunate because I think Kimura Keito and Yamanaka Jyutaro put in real work in this show. Their bed scene was probably the most stylish of the entire year. It is worth watching just that scene because it really stands out. Also, they discuss m/m acts the morning after in a way that felt refreshing.

Ask me Top 5 BL 2023 Anything

[midnightdevotion]

Hard Days

Request: "Come here and let me hold you"

Pairings: Hangman x reader

Tag list is open

Requests are open

a/n: this is really just cutesy fluff of a new relationship, I hope you guys like it!

It was one of those goddamn days. You knew it would be from the moment you woke up, your phone didn't charge so your alarm didn't go off and that left you scrambling to get to work on time.

You didn't have time to pack a lunch and definitely didn't get a good breakfast unless a stale protein bar that your boyfriend left on the coffee table counts as good. On top of that, you had a stressful day at work, constantly rushing to put out the next fire, you seriously could not catch a single break today.

You sigh in relief when you see the clock hit 5:00, shoulders sagging and a slight throb in your temple, a forewarning of the tension headache that's been impending all day. You're on autopilot when you leave the building and make your way home. In fact, you are so out of it that you pull into the driveway of your cute little house you don't even notice that your boyfriend's car is there too. So when you walk in and you hear some song by Dan and Shay playing, you almost panic.

Wracking your brain to remember if you had plans tonight or not and not coming up with anything.

"Babe that you?" you hear none other than the devastatingly handsome Jake Seresin yell from the kitchen.

"Uh- yeah did we.. did we have plans tonight?" you furrowed your brow. The ever adorable pilot sticks his head around the corner grinning. "Nope we didn't but one of your coworkers... uh charlotte I think called this afternoon and said you were having a rough day, so I figured I'd treat my girl"

Maybe it's the way he's grinning at you, or maybe it's the overwhelming amount of love you are feeling for this absolute perfect man, or maybe it's just everything from the day hitting you at once but you start crying. You can see the panic in Jake's eyes when he registers what is happening, and if you weren't in the midst of a break down it would probably make you laugh. You watched as his head disappeared for a moment before his whole body emerged around the corner, as he makes his way to you.

"babygirl what's wrong" his hands are cupping your cheeks and his green eyes are staring into your red tearful ones. You don't really know how to answer, embarrassed that you are crying at all. So you just focus on his thumbs that are wiping away tears so gently on your face.

"How bout this, I will finish cooking dinner, and you can just come hang out with me then after we eat I will draw you a nice bath and we can relax that sound good?" and you are so grateful that this man knows when you arent ready to talk about things and doesn't push the subject. So you nod at his suggestion and he grins and picks you up.

"Jake what!-" his laughter cuts you off

"what part of my girl is going to relax tonight made you think I will allow you to lift a single finger... or foot for that matter" you shake your head as he sets you on the counter, continuing to make what looks like lasagne.

You two fall into a comfortable silence, you watching the way his muscles move as he moves around the kitchen making dinner and the way his tongue pokes out as he's laying the noodles in the casserole dish. It takes about an hour for dinner to be done and another twenty for you two to finish eating. Jake true to his word, cleans up dinner and carries you up the stairs so you can go to your tub.

You watch as he diligently fills the tub, you know he tried to hide it but you counted him checking the temperature four times. He must've really thought ahead because he pulls out a grocery bag from under the sink and starts pouring in some bubble bath and a lovely coconut scent fills the room.

"Okay love, your relaxing bath is ready, let me know when you are done and I'll carry you downstairs and we can cuddle on the couch and watch whatever movie you want-- yes even that one about the town that doesn't dance" you laugh at his words but your heart is just filled with so much love.

"Jake... will you get in with me?" your voice is fairly quiet and you watch his expression go from focused to one that you could only refer to as adoration.

"Of course sweetheart" and jake helps you down from the bathroom counter, even helping you get undressed and helping you into the tub. You watch him get undressed, and he definitely throws a wink your way. He climbs in behind you and for the first time all day, you feel yourself relax when your back hits his chest.

"I-I'm sorry for crying earlier, it was just a really overwhelming day and then I came home and you were being so sweet and it just... happened" you can feel the blood heat up your face because that was the first time you cried in front of your boyfriend of 4 months.

"Darling, you never need to apologize for crying, while everything in me screams to protect you from anything that can hurt you, crying is human nature and I'll always be here to wipe away the tears." and what you say next isn't planned at all, in fact if you had absolutely any critical thinking skills left you probably wouldn't have said it.

"I love you so much Jake Seresin" and once they are actually out of your mouth you freeze, and you can't see his face but you definitely feel him tense up.

"Rooster is going to give me so much shit that you said it first" and it takes you a second to process what he means, laying your head back on his chest so you can look up at him. He's already grinning down at you, eyes shining so bright.

"y/n I love you so much more" he finally says the words back and you can't help but feel giddy inside.

You guys are in the bath for another hour, till the water starts to get cold. He wraps you up in a big fluffy robe before keeping his promise from before and he carries you back down the stairs to watch "that dancing movie".

When you see an array of your favorite snacks on the coffee table you grin up at him. "Who knew big bad hangman was such a softie" He has the faintest smile on his face, just glad you are feeling better and back to being yourself.

"Oh shut up, just come here and let me hold you dammit" and you laugh but you do just that and crawl on top of the muscled aviator. You two snuggle for hours, staying up watching movies you know jake isn't crazy about, and sure, maybe before your day wasn't so great, but if every bad day ended like this, you'd sign up for it every day.

Taglist: @alanadetigy

[riellewashere]

'She's trying to kill me.'

Eren sat down, sighing. He loosened his tie, manspreading on the velvet couch. He closed his eyes, arm over them, his man-bun, a complete mess. He pictured you in that dress again. It was all he could ever think of. It hugged your figure perfectly. Every curve defined. The way your cleavage was showing perfectly, drove Eren crazy. Eren was positive you were trying to kill him. The  perfume you wore, clouded his senses. He had to remember where he was. Sure it was his office, but his boss would kill him if he got no work done.

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'You started this. You'd better finish it.' It was only a matter of time before you walked in again. He didn't care at this point. He would take you on the goddamn desk if he had to. Anything to get rid of the frustration. For now all he could do was wait. He walked over to his desk, to at least try and be productive. That one didn't work at all. He couldn't take it anymore. He shifted uncomfortably in his office chair. This was hell. And the fire was burning him.

He couldn't focus that day. Every time you passed by him, his breath you get caught in his throat, heart pounding like a drum. You knew the effects you had on him. He took out a cigarette and lit the end. Puffing out the smoke, he closed his eyes again picturing you in nothing but your skin. You were like a piece of art. He wanted you. He needed you.

He was hard by just the thought of you. It was like e was being tested. Would he give in to the temptation? It was a difficult choice. You were irresistible. You tempted him like a drug. Your sex was a blessing. Nobody took him like you. Nobody could ever do the things you did to him. 'The little seductress.' He thought, blowing smoke from his lips.

"Fuck." He whispered. He reached down. All the way down to his throbbing member. He took it in his hands and tried to relieve the tension. He tried to conceal his grunts, and groans as he worked his way up and down his member. This was filthy and sinful. He was enjoying himself. You were so perfect to him. Carved and shaped by a God. He let out a breathy groan. Precum leaked from his tip. You were driving him crazy. You probably wore that dress on purpose. Just to frustrate him. He moaned again.

He was about to reach his high, then a knock came from the door. He quickly zipped his trousers up, squashed the cigarette into his ash tray, and called, "C-come in!" His heart pounded. "Sir! I brought the file you as- Eren?" It was you. Dress and all. "You ok? Your face looks red. It is really hot in here." How dare you act so innocent. "You think you can just bat your eyelashes and act like your not at fault?"

You continued to act. You slowly walked over to him. "What ever do you mean, sir?" You said the word slowly. He couldn't take it anymore. In a flash, he slammed you against the desk, breathing down your neck like an animal. "You're gonna regret messing with me like this, darling." He inhaled you like a drug. "Eren.." You whined. "Shh. You started it. You're going to finish it." He whispered sweetly. He kissed you slowly, and hungrily. His tongue danced with yours, as you let out a moan. "Shh. Don't want anyone hearing you now, darling." He chuckled like a sadist, at your impatience. His hand muffled your cries. 

"Get on your knees."

"Yes sir."

He unzipped his trousers. Your mouth watered at his size. It never failed to leave you in awe. It was veiny and thick. "Well?" He sneered. "Learned your lesson yet, darling?" You shook your head. He grabbed the back of your head and forced his member down your throat. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes. Your tongue encircled his veiny length. He groaned, pulling your hair. "Always so good for me.." He groaned, smirking down at you. You continued to pleasure his aching member. "Fu-fuck I'm close." He hissed.  He pulled on your hair harder as he reached his high again. 

Hot ropes of his seed coated your throat. You made sure to swallow every bit of it. You slowly took your mouth off of him. "Please" Eren lifts you onto the table, kissing you. "Please what? Be specific now." You whined. "Please! Fuck me! Take me!"  He put a finger on his chin, as if to think. You whined again. "Erenn.." You looked up at him, in frustration. He chuckled, slithering his hands down your waist.

"Who am I to deny you? You've been such a good girl for me." You lit up at the praise. He reached his hands under your skirt, shoving his fingers into the pool of heat between your thighs. You moaned, throwing your head back. He fingered you at a pace that made you see stars. "E-Eren!" You whimpered. Your moans were music to his ears. He took his fingers out and sucked on them. You whined at the loss of contact.

He positioned himself at your entrance. He eased you onto him slowly. You would never get used to this. "You ok?" He whispered. You nodded. After that you rode him. His pace quickened with every passing minute. You were close. "E-Eren! I'm-" He cut you off with a thrust. His member hit all the right spots, making your eyes roll back. "I'm gonna- gonna cum!" His thrusts somehow got quicker. You moaned again and again, as you released. "Always so good for me." Eren groaned. He continued to thrust , eventually releasing again. He let out a breathy moan. "S-so good.." His seed felt heavy between your hips. You rested your head on his shoulder. "This dress looks nice. You should wear it more often, you little temptress." He whispered to you, his breath tickling your ear.

A knock came from the door. "You two better be dressed." It was the boss himself. Levi.

You two were in deep shit.

[astridthevalkyrie]

From one south asian sister to another….. oh no :( have you been telling them you’re wearing the hijaab but not actually wearing it? I can definitely just TELL the absolute awkward tension though of them finding out.

Luckily enough my parents haven’t really forced it onto to me and respect my own boundary of when I want to wear it, I can wear it.

thank you for checking in! i'm gonna use this ask to explain what exactly happened. i'll put most of it under a cut since this got really long. at a cliffhanger too, click read more to see the story.

so my first day of work was yesterday, i started at a store in our local mall. i knew my parents were the type to drop in without warning and i did expect them to do it eventually, but not on the first goddamn day. i had my phone on me tucked under my clothes even though technically i should have left it in my bag, just so i could check their location, but obviously i was training and couldn't just pop it out and look at it whenever. so when they came and saw me, without my hijaab on, i never saw them.

my youngest sister texted me saying that my mom had come home, said they went to the mall, and said they "needed to talk to me." she said my mom didn't seem too mad, but obviously i got nauseous pretty much right away, i could barely focus in the last hour i was there. it was better that i knew before they could ambush me, though, so thank god for my sister.

i get home and immediately play off that i'm sleepy, and crash onto the bed for a "nap." i heard my mom say something like "so why weren't you wearing your scarf" but i was pretend half-asleep so it got brushed off. then i pretty much just laid there for a couple hours.

we were supposed to go to my aunt't house, but my mother didn't want to go anyway, and she told my sister that since i wasn't feeling well, she would just use me as an excuse to stay. and, y'know, fuck that. i have a ten page paper due today that i have written half a page of that i need to get done and submit in eight hours today. and i should have worked on that yesterday instead of going to my aunt's house, but the idea of being alone in the house with my mother after that revelation actually makes me wanna drive a knife into myself.

so anyway, i "wake up" and tell my dad i'll go, he just quietly nods along and whatever. so i go up, and now everyone's upstairs, and as i'm drinking water my mom asks, "why did you have your scarf off while working?"

and while i was asleep, i considered three options: a, i could tell her that i decided to do it for job hunting and work because of discriminatory reasons. b, i could tell her that i started doing it a few months ago when law school started. or c, i could i tell her the truth, that i've been doing it consistently for two years and even before that whenever i wanted since i was 13.

i went with option b. so i told her no one made me, or anything, i just didn't want to wear the hijaab anymore. and that went about as well as you would imagine it to. here are some of the things i heard last night (not capitalizing, but most of these things were yelled, not spoken calmly):

"You're so spoiled. I allowed you to stop reading Quran, but this is too much." - not true, I stopped reading Quran everyday and she has continuously pestered me about it since, she hasn't allowed me jack shit.

"What's next, you stop praying, and then you're not even Muslim anymore!" - haven't prayed in years, but she doesn't need to know that. also, never wanna hear anyone say to my face again that all muslim women choose to wear the hijaab and no one ever forces them, or at least not in the precious western world.

"I always thought cousin x was like this because of the way she was raised, but now my daughter with MY raising has turned out like this." - the cousin of hers she was comparing me to hit her while she was pregnant with my sister. lovely comparison. also way to make it about yourself.

"It's because you watched too many movies and listen to too many songs." - a classic. check out all those things i participated in that hurt so many people. listening to music? what a horrible sin.

"It's because you hang out with friend x and friend y, they've filled your head with these thoughts" - the friends she named were my two closest friends, both of whom are black women. mind you she followed up with "i don't want you hanging out with black or white or non muslim friends anymore" but she also reemed into friend y, who mind you, has always greeted her politely and dressed appropriately if she was visiting my house. the other girl? more religious than i am (though she's christian) and neither of them drink or smoke or anything like that. meanwhile a muslim girl i hang out with wears a hijaab on her head for sure, but she vapes, drinks, goes on dates, but sure. muslim girls are the fuckin role models for this generation, definitely.

(she also took this opportunity to walk into my sisters' room and scream that she doesn't want them hanging out with their nonmuslim friends either. we live in a very white area—they don't have muslim friends. i only started to make them in college because my high school didn't have any but me. so.....total isolation except from their family! how healthy i'm sure my sisters will be fine.)

"I don't want you around my other daughters, i don't want you influencing them." - probably the one that stung the most, but also hilarious. HILARIOUS that she thinks i need to influence them. my middle sister hates my mother at the age of 15 far more than i did in my teen years. she's had trichotillomania for years and my mother has consistently told her to: just stop, that she's doing it for attention, that she must like doing it, etc.. so, yeah, my influence? definitely not needed. it's not like my sisters come to me to talk about things they can't talk to our parents about. i'm not worried about the day i have to move out and leave them, not at all! i'm sure they're in such good hands!!!

oh, fun fact also! my mother got married at like 25? 26? and only started wearing her hijaab like a few years after that. i wonder how she was raised! if me having been forced to wear it at 8 is bad parenting, i wonder what this says about my grandmother.

and here and there my dad being the coward he is interjected with "i don't understand why it's so hard" to which i answered that i didn't expect him to. when she screamed at my sisters i told him to stop her and he just said "she's in shock." like okay??? so come scream at me you fucking bitch???? i also had to play pretend that my sisters didn't already know i did this.

my brilliant father also said that while i was living with them, i need to wear it, but after marriage it was on me. oh RIIIIIGHT. marriage! after i belong to a man instead of my parents! the marriage that could very well be to a man who requires a hijaabi wife! why didn't I think of that??? and when i told them as much my mom cut in before my dad could and said "so what if he wants a hijaabi wife? is it a bad thing for him to be religious? better than being a degenerate!" am i actually. here? is this real life? is this fantasy? i mean same woman who told me she hopes my husband beats me if i continue to do theater so not surprising, but i'm sure my spoiled little brat self just doesn't understad.

then my mother goes and sobs in her room for a couple minutes. my dad gives her: reassuring words, hugs, back rubs, comfort. i got a head pat. i mean i was crying too but not loud heaving sobs like someone just shot my cat, so what did i expect, right?

he tells me to start wearing it at work. i say no. he tells me to quit, then. okay. four interviews, four job offers—i got every. single. job. i. interviewed. for.—and i walk away with nothing. nothing! side note, will probably be opening commissions soon, because i'm not in a hurry to take up another customer service job and deal with this again. i quit this morning. the manager was understanding even though i worked all of one day and black friday is coming up. this one's genuinely on me. i could just work with my hijaab on. but i won't. and again, not the reason i did it, but something just tells me in the area we live in, i was not getting four job offers with a hijaab on my head.

anyway, i just ask him if we're going to my aunt's house, and we are.

in the car, with just him and my sisters, i talk openly. he knows that i don't wear my scarf when i don't have to. he doesn't care. supposedly he understands (how interesting that he understands when my mother isn't there to hear it.) his advice? "just tell her you will, and then don't." oh.......so what i've been doing! lying! fantastic, brilliant, inspired. and he's very sure that a, she will believe me when i do this now, b, i'll "definitely" be married within two years, and c, that she won't stop me from hanging out with my friends or sisters.

like, in the nicest way possible, i wasn't worried about that in the slightest. i pay for my car. i'm in law school—LAW SCHOOL!—on FULL ACADEMIC SCHOLARSHIP. and i'm bragging. i am. the year's tuition could have been more or around 50,000. my parents aren't paying a dime to send me here. if i'm gonna go get lunch with my friend after class, there's quite literally nothing she can do to stop me. my sister and i just will not stop talking and if she ever tries like locking my sister in her room it's fuck around and find out at this point. what does she hold over my head? a toxic home environment. it's definitely exhausting to study for LAW SCHOOL and do LAW SCHOOL reading and then come home to utter bullshit, whether that's more yelling or the silent treatment or whatever. she also cooks for me. again, nicest way possible, i can cook for myself. i can buy my own ingredients if i need to. i can eat out. i don't need my father's money to do it either. not that i have enough saved that i could live on my own, but my father isn't kicking me out of the house, and i worked hard and saved enough that i can very much afford to make meals for myself, thanks.

where my mom has me, and where she doesn't even know she has me, is that i'm not as batshit as her. sorry to seem ableist, but she gave me most of my mental issues, so. i care about my sisters. i do not want them dealing with her and her abusive ass everyday. i care about my pussy ass father. he's already in a marriage with her and works full time, he's got enough on his plate to have to deal with her ranting his ear off about it everyday. and i care about her. can you believe that? i don't. i care about this bitchy ass woman and how she's a victim, how she had to move to a new country after marriage and how her in laws don't always treat her well. how she's schizophrenic and how terrifying that must be. so after all that, do i have any choice but to play nice? i quit my job, i'll tell her what she wants to hear. i'm not going to wear my hijaab at school but i'll still let her think i do. if she wants to watch me pray, she can.

so at the end, i am still the only one compromising. and all this because i don't want to wear the hijaab. which is supposedly as so many stupid fucking people have told me, is my choice, it's up to me! i live in a western country! but it's okay because once a man owns me i will maybe be able to make my own choices. yay!

yeah. sorry for this, it's super long—thanks to anyone who read it. i now have to get this ten page paper out, because it's definitely too late to ask for an extension and professors don't really care about minor religious complications. hope everyone has a good day, love you guys <3

[plethora-of-imagines]

God of Healing

AN: So this past week @how-masterful wasn't feeling well at points so I wanted to write some hurt/comfort for her to help her feel better as I always love to read sick fics when I'm not feeling well. Then the short drabble I had planned spiraled out of control and became a much larger fic.

Funny story, I have not yet watched Moon Knight.... Once again Masterful has gotten me addicted to characters from a show I have not seen. So they will all likely be out of character but I tried my best.

Word Count: 3153

Warnings: hurt/comfort, likely inaccurate depictions of DID, sick!reader, implied platonic (or romantic if you squint) relationship between Khonshu/Reader

Description: Marc and Steven return from a night as Moon Knight/Mr. Knight that didn't have their god hovering over their shoulder. They wonder what could have kept him from bothering them and find out once they return home.

"Bit odd ain't it?"

Marc didn't bother to answer Steven, it would only be a few moments before he would speak up again telling him exactly what was odd. Besides, asking him - no matter how curious Marc really was- would only encourage Steven to chip in with all sorts of observations all night. It would be a distraction. The giant bird that only he could see was already enough of a distraction every night. He didn’t need to be distracted in his own head too.

"All night we've fought, mate,” ah good, here was Steven proving Marc right once again. “Doling out his justice and all. Yet not a word from the bloody pigeon. Most nights he wouldn't leave us alone even if we begged him.... What do you think he's up to?"

"It's probably nothing. You worry too much Steven," Marc dismissed as he focused on quietly opening the flat's window.

You could be asleep and he didn't want to wake you. Why the hell was the window giving him so much trouble!  Of all things to trip up the protector of the travelers of the night- that’s a mouthful ain’t it- it had to be their own goddamn window.  Slowly dragging his hand down his face, Marc tried to release the tension that still held his body tightly wound. Tonight had been rougher than normal. He didn’t want to admit it but without Khonshu acting as an early warning system for ambushes the body had taken more of a beating than normal. Not that anything really hurt- the healing armor stopped that- but it did mean that Marc was emotionally and physically sore. He pointedly avoided looking into the window’s reflection. Steven could fuck off, he wasn’t in the mood to be teased tonight about how he should have listened to their girl. She had been begging them to take a night off for a month now.

He just. Couldn’t bring himself to take time for himself. Not when there were people to protect that deserved protection. He just knew that the moment he stopped moving he would break under your care. Oh, sure it would be healthy and good for him. But he had no idea if he would be able to recover in time to get back to protecting people like he needed to. 

Marc forced himself to focus back on the task at hand. No point having a breakdown outside of their own flat when he could silently have it while tightly gripping onto you.

One of them should oil the window soon, it was starting to stick. Ironic really. Marc has assumed that windows would only stick if they were being left unused. Moon Knight or Mr.Knight went out almost every single night. So there was no reason for the window to be giving him any trouble.

The window finally opened enough for them to get inside. Honestly, Marc couldn’t believe that they had a flat with windows big enough for them to use as a way in and out of the flat. It was convenient though. Marc refused to have you leave the door unlocked while he was out, and carrying a key would just be inviting trouble. Without the window to distract him, Marc was left alone with his thoughts about what Steven had said... 

One of the few times that Marc would have welcomed Steven’s rambling to distract himself was  of course the one time he decided to be quiet. Even though he didn’t want to admit it to Steven, he had also been a little worried about the startling absence of Khonshu. But, well it probably wasn’t anything. Steven was just being paranoid... Khonshu would end up telling the two of them if it ended up being important.

Slipping into the flat, Marc stayed light on his feet. You could be a light sleeper when you had just fallen asleep. No point stomping around and waking you before he could join you wherever you were.

"Where's our girl, Marc? She's probably still half awake, it’s cute how she always waits up for us. We need to make sure she gets some sleep though. Her poor eyes have started to get bags under them as bad as ours! Course, she would probably say she needs to stay up to make sure we get some sleep."

"Shut up Steven, I'm sure she's sleeping like a baby," he whispered back as he made sure the window was secure.

Flicking a glance across the room their eyes instantly found you in bed by glancing to see your hair spread out against the sheets. Taking less than a moment to see you were there before starting his nightly ritual. He would join you soon enough so all that mattered was that you were in bed.

It was good that you hadn't waited up for him. Well, that's what he tried to convince himself but he could feel deep inside of him some minor disappointment that you hadn't tried to stay awake to welcome him home. Shoving the feeling down guiltily, he let the suit dissolve. Vanishing around him. Ever so thankful that under the suit he wore the sweatpants and t-shirt he would be wearing to bed he walked away from you. A quick restroom stop to brush his teeth and he would be pulling you into his arms.

Marc instinctively kicked the door shut as he flicked the light on. At the very last moment, Steven took over for just a second to stop the door from slamming with their hand.

Ah, shit! That hurt! Shaking out the pain in their hand Marc scowled at the mirror. 

“Leaving the pain for me, gee thanks Steven.”

“Well it could have been avoided if you didn’t try and slam the door like a right bastard.”

Leaving the mirror cabinet open just to annoy Steven as he grabbed a toothbrush, Marc began to aggressively brush his teeth. The sooner this was done the sooner he could get some sleep. God he just needed to hold you close and breathe in your scent.

"Marc, Marc!” Steven was being an annoyance again, yelling for his attention. “Bloody hell, and you claim you're normally the more observant of the two of us! She was right, you do need more sleep."

Throwing the mirror back into place so that he could see Steven in the reflection Marc hissed in irritation at the constant badgering, "What the hell is it now Steven!"

Mentally he apologized for the angry hiss he had made at Steven. He didn't deserve that.

"Surprised you haven't noticed the dozens of medications on the sink yet, mate. I think she might be asleep in bed for once cause she's sick or somethin’..."

Toothbrush still in his mouth Marc took stock of the about 20 pill bottles across the sink and bathroom. Huh. How did he miss all of those? It was a mess in here! Sure with all of Steven’s books spread all over the place the flat was always a general mess but normally the bathroom was more tame. Steven did have a few books in the bathroom, too however. More trashy novels that didn't matter if they got wet. Heaven forbid one of his precious tomes got even a drop of rain on them.

Rushing through the rest of the body's before bed routine, Marc was buzzing with nervous energy. He needed to check on you, to stay close and keep watch over you. Nothing was allowed to harm you, not even your own body. Speculating if summoning the suit would help, Marc spat out the froth of toothpaste filling his mouth. Would the healing cape aid in ridding your sickness? You weren’t the avatar but the cape had still protected others from harm. Did being sick count as harm? 

Marc skipped the skin care routine that you had made for them. The lack of protest from Steven proved that he was just as concerned about you as he was. Normally Steven would insist on doing at least part of the skin care routine that you have so lovingly made for them. But tonight neither of them wanted to waste a moment of time that could be spent making sure you were okay.

Skidding out of the bathroom, their eyes immediately jumped to lock onto you. To ensure you were still in bed, still breathing. Why hadn’t Marc given you even just one once over before starting his nightly routine? He surely would have noticed if you were sick if he had. If anything had happened to you and he had wasted time brushing his teeth Marc was ready to yank them out himself.

The body froze as Marc and Steven processed what they were seeing.

The fucking bird was holding you. 

In. His. Arms. 

Petting your hair gently with his other hand as you struggled to breath through your nose. Khonshu’s fucking beak hovering over your head in mock protection.

"Are you fucking stealing my girl, Khonshu! Get your hands off of her!"

Marc's yell echoed through the flat, echoing in the silence. Steven winced at how loud it was. The neighbors were sure to hear if he stayed that loud and then rumors could spread, and then it would become an even bigger mess than what it already was! How would they compete with a god even if it was just the bloody pidgeon? This was it, the end of your lovely relationship. The panic was in full control now.

Steven hadn’t even noticed that he had taken over the body. Marc’s anger and desire to punch the god in his face- skull, whatever- burning in his chest.

Oh, god. Marc's yelling has woken you up. You were stirring. What would you do when you woke up? Did you know that Khonshu was holding you as you slept? Or did you think in your sleep that it was his arms around you? Steven couldn’t decide which would be worse.

"I have no desire to steal this mortal from you Marc Spector."

Oh, well that was good. No need to compete with the god of the moon for you then. That was a minor relief. Wait-

"Oi! The way you said that implies that you would steal her from me but not Marc!"

Khonshu groaned the moment Steven spoke. Rude of him! And here he thought that the grumpy god had finally warmed up to him, began to accept him as another avatar.

“What are you doing then you big bird?” Now that he had been reassured that your relationship was safe, Steven felt confident enough to bully the god a little bit. “I can’t really think of a reason for you to be feeling up our girl when she’s unconscious. Can you Marc? Seems a bit inappropriate if you ask me.”

"Steven," you croaked out.

Oh, right. You had woken up. Maybe should prioritize that over annoying the bird. Gosh, your voice sounded all rough and scratchy. It has to be aching. You would definitely benefit from a nice, warm cup of tea. Maybe some soup. They should have something suitable in the flat to soothe your throat.

Lurching out of Khonshu’s grasp, you reached out for him. Oh, you were just lovely. Steven didn’t exactly want to get sick but he was determined to cuddle you. Just as he was stepping towards you to take you into his arms Khonshu flicked out his staff.

The crescent moon grabbing hold of you like a lasso and throwing you back into the god’s arms. The staff was dismissed as soon as it had been summoned. Khonshu keeping a tighter grip on your body as he forced you to rest back against his chest again.

“What the fuck does he think he is doing to them,” Marc screamed in his ear.

“You are to stay put, little priestess,” the rumbling growl of his stern voice was making you tremble. You had the most upset and sorrowful look on your face. Like you knew that you had done something wrong but hadn’t meant to. “Or I will make use of the bug’s restraints to keep you here.”

That threat was the last straw for keeping Marc from fronting. He would protect you no matter what it cost.

"If she wants to leave your grasp and come to me you better let go of her, Khonshu," Marc threatened.

Inside Steven was panicking about how they could possibly get you safely away from the god. You had wanted to come to them and he had stopped you. You weren’t safe and you were sick, this was officially the nightmare scenario. How could they protect you against a god without Khonshu’s suit, without his help? Oh god, they had never thought to come up with a plan for this. Even with Marc’s protective paranoia tendencies to plan for any danger that could threaten you he had never even considered their god turning against them!

"Hmm is that anyway to thank me, my avatar, for keeping her sickness diminished. Without my aid by now she would surely be in one of those inadequate human hospitals. If she had managed to survive long enough to call for such aid..."

"WhAt," Marc and Steven both stumbled over each other to speak. The word barely comprehensible with the vocal breaks as their accent rapidly changed.

Frozen they both mentally retreated to talk to the other. They needed to think this through, to not rush into assumptions. To consider all the facts they had and plan their next action if any were even needed.

Steven came to the conclusion first.

"Oh, bloody hell. Marc, he's the god of healing too. He's saved her life when we didn't even notice she was ill! This is why he left us alone all night, he’s been healing her. Oh bollocks, we’re bloody awful boyfriends aren’t we..."

“Do you need to be holding her to heal her?”

Marc was still a bit on edge, but now he could admit his curiosity.

“Yes. She is not my avatar, close contact is the best way to eradicate her sickness. I cannot have my most devout worshiper fall to illness due to her refusal to pray for her own health.”

“Devout worshiper? But she doesn’t even pray...” Steven mumbled.

“She has called upon me to protect you enough times to be considered a priestess of my temple.”

Marc could feel his chest aching. A tightness making him want nothing more than to assure you that he would keep himself and Steven safe. Just for your sake.

Sniffling you managed to get out a few words. “I want our Marc and my Steven, Khonshu.” 

There were tears on your cheeks. You had been crying silently while they bickered over meaningless things...

“Your Steven,” the god teased. “I do believe that they are both my Moon Knight, little priestess.”

Khonshu was... oddly affectionate with you. And far nicer to you than he was Marc or Steven. Well, not that he could blame the god for growing fond of you. Even Marc could admit it was impossible to avoid the desire to please you, to protect you. He had tried to keep Steven and himself away from you for so long to no avail. You drew them in to orbit you, as the moon does the Earth.

“You’re too mean to Steven so he’s all mine,” you muttered in a sleepy haze. “M’ gonna take Marc from you too if you don’t start being nicer to him so you better watch out.”

Marc chuckled at your empty threat.

“Hmm, then I shall have to keep a close eye on you, little one. I cannot have a priestess of mine stealing from me, after all. Perhaps I shall give the tireless task of keeping you out of mischief to my Moon Knight.”

Slowly making his way to the bed, both boys realized the issue at the same time. They wanted-no needed to hold you. But to do that while Khonshu was healing you would force them to lay practically in the god’s lap.

The moment they were in reach you extended your hands out with the most adorable grabby motions. Silently begging them to cuddle you close. 

Steven gave in first while Marc was still debating how to hold you without touching Khonshu.

“Steven, no. Please, just- no.”

“Mate, if there was a way to do this that wasn’t bloody ridiculous I am more than willing to move. But I am not about to risk that sad little face she likes to give us to get her way while we debate on how to avoid touching the almost 2 meter tall vulture that needs to be touching her.”

Admitting defeat Marc let Steven shuffle the body closer to yours. Keeping as much skin contact as possible with you while maintaining as little contact between them and Khonshu. Marc mentally sighed when you purposely sniffled to show that you knew it was just Steven who had moved the body to lay against yours. He pressed a kiss to your forehead to indulge you. The happy little squirm against him was worth any embarrassment that the situation gave them.

Laying in silence as he rubbed circles against your skin until you fell back asleep. Trying his damn hardest to ignore the giant mummified bird in the room.

"Well this is awkward, innit?"

"Steven please," Marc begged. "I'm trying very hard not to think about how while cuddling our sick girlfriend we basically have to cuddle Khonshu too!"

"Bit too late for that now..." he trailed off with a nervous laugh.

Marc purposely avoided looking at Khonshu. Or any mirrors. Finally settling his wandering eyes on your peaceful face. He could suffer the discomfort of being pressed slightly against Khonshu’s body, for you.

“We never talk about this. Ever.”

“Agreed,” Khonshu was quick to answer. Seems the god found this as unsettling as he did. 

If it wouldn’t involve bringing this situation up, Marc would pester the god about how he seemed to have no awkward feelings about cuddling his girlfriend. But he just knew that Khonshu would get his revenge by distracting him during his time as Moon Knight by mentioning that he was also the god of fertility. Steven was already going to be enough of a mess worrying over being Khonshu’s avatar and you apparently being considered a priestess by the god making the both of you more fertile, now that the idea was there...

Silently they both agreed to push the thought from their minds for now. They could freak out together later.

At least you were soundly sleeping. And your nose was less stuffy, so Khonshu’s healing was helping. With any luck- which god were they due for some good luck- you would be better by tomorrow and this bizarre cuddle pile wouldn’t be needed again.

[callmearcturus]

@thatscarletflycatcher replied to your post “@malewifebillcage replied to your post “I CANNOT...”:

I don't hate MI3 (tbh, I don't hate ANY of the MI movies) but it is the one I like the less. I think it is overall a better movie than MI2 simply by reigning in the nonsense, reigning in the masks, understanding that Ethan does not work as a playboybond type character, going back to female characters being more than sexy lamp love interests… PSH elevates the movie, the introduction of Benji was a good choice… but it isn't FUN. MI2 is FUNTM. Taken in and of itself, the writing goes from blah to bad, it's formulaic (even for this type of movie), and introduces certain dark, desperate, cliched tensions that don't fit with the tone of the MI movies as a whole. Not even MI1 is this tense… and for what? But also I understand how retrospectively MI4-6 elevated several of its mediocrities.

cw for full negativity mode here, sorry MI3 fans

I mean, I was very hyped for PSH and I do think he's one of the best parts of the movie for sure, but there is literally no writing there. that's what I mean about the script, like, Cruise and Hoffman and Rhames and Monaghan are giving it their all but there's so little to work with. like, PSH is... he's giving 100% but like Owen Davian is a void of motivation. He has none, there's no reason he's such a motherfucker, his entire character is "I'm the bad guy" which just... is really hard to swallow when compared to Phelps and Claire, Solomon, even Colbalt has purpose behind his shit when he was so not the focus of the movie. Davian just.....

I only think one of Benji's scenes is good, like the antigod speech made me want to claw my eyes out, it's so bad. But when Ethan and Benji have back and forth over the phone, that had charm and chemistry.

And there's multiple points where, as a writer, I can see the strain of the script. I make fun of the inexplicable IMF-Issued Unsexy Bondage Mask but I know why it's there, because if Ethan could say anything the whole plot would unravel. And when Ethan is alone with Musgrave in Shanghai and he just..... spills the entire plot to Ethan and lays out his motivations, like that's another function of the weakness of the story.

AND THEN ON TOP OF ALL THAT is the atrocious moment to moment writing. all those lines like the weird incest joke. AND THEN the complete lack of establishment of the team. I remember when Maggie Q had that nice little moment about the prayer to bring her cat back. I literally said to my friends "that would be a nice character beat if I remembered her fucking character's name."

I'm not even touching on cinematography/lighting here because that's a WHOLE other post but my point is that all the good character moments are completely thanks to the cast bringing their A game to a Z tier script and it drives me up the fucking wall.

SLAMS FISTS ON THE TABLE

I COULD RUN A CLINIC ON THIS GODDAMN SCRIPT OKAY

sorry that's it i've exorcised my emotions now

[the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis]

me? writing fanfic about the host? it’s more likely than you think! check out:

like a memory lost

for a post-canon pov from a minor character, poking at the holes in the worldbuilding stephenie meyer doesn’t want to acknowledge, the tragedy of alien infestation and what it does to consent, and my experience of the host being inescapably informed by reading too much animorphs as a child!

as always, text below the read-more.

Jodi isn’t tired. Not exactly.

She isn’t sure there’s enough of her left to be tired, really.

To be…

She doesn’t know what happened.

There’s one clear thing. One last clear memory, oddly doubled: she was going back to her parents’ for a week.

Just to do laundry without having to count quarters for the shitty basement washing machine in her college apartment. Just to spend a little time in the desert sun, far from Portland and whining traffic and heavy clouds over the slow brown river. Far from the stacks of biology textbooks and scribbled MCAT study guides that were swallowing her bedroom whole.

Just to eat her dad’s mac-n-cheese, the special recipe that he made every time she came to visit, just because it had been her favorite for so long when she was a kid, and he still winked and pretended there was a secret ingredient even though he’d sent the recipe along with her to college, no daughter of mine’ll eat Kraft, even if you are one of those poor premed students—and she rolled her eyes but ate every bite anyways.

Just to hug her mom. She’d been imagining that, somewhere in the back of her mind, aching for it even as she strained onto her tiptoes to kiss Kyle goodbye at the airport doors and tried not to blush at his brother whistling from the driver’s seat of their car.

Imagining breathing in her mom’s favorite bergamot perfume, sharp and citrusy, that she always wore just the tiniest bit of because there’s always such a thing as too much of a good thing, dear. The way one firm hand would cradle the back of her neck the same way it had since she was a kid, pressing months of tension out of her shoulders.

And then she’d been on the front porch, the Mojave sun warm on her back, relaxing into that hug—and the hand on her neck had turned implacable, a thumb digging into her windpipe and the world going slowly black.

And then—and then—

And then she doesn’t know.

The loop. The airport, the porch. The world going black.

Waking up...here. Wherever that is.

A room without light, without windows, without a door.

Maybe not waking up at all.

There are flashes, every once in a while.

Her body, moving without her say. Like she’s watching through glass, not quite distant enough to really be third-person but too blurred to be anything else. Her lips shaping words that she can’t decipher, because it’s too loud in her brain to focus that hard.

The first bite of mac-n-cheese, burning the roof of her mouth, and her dad doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t wink and he doesn’t say secret ingredient he says Sunlight-Passing-Through-Ice are you well? His smile is glass, fragile and clouded, and she thrashes, even though her body doesn’t flinch, just smiles and fills another fork. She tries to scream, even though she doesn’t know why—

Her mother’s hug. Citrus. Bergamot. Too much of it, thick and heavy on her tongue. A firm hand on the back of her neck, and a spike of terror, a phantom ache in her throat—

Devastation.

Despair, so complete and utter she fell to her knees and felt every one of the bruises blooming as they cracked against the shitty linoleum flooring of the old apartment she’d shared with—Kyle, Kyle, he’s gone, he’s GONE, no no no no!

She felt the tears flooding her eyes. The tang as her teeth bit into her cheek and blood swirled across her tongue.

I NEED HIM, a voice was wailing, and the despair was sharp and razor-edged enough for Jodi to realize it wasn’t her own. Words echoed, so goddamn loud, through the skull she was suddenly stumbling back into, and they weren’t hers either. THIS BODY NEEDS HIM, IT’S NOT FAIR, THEY HAVE TO CATCH HIM—

And she couldn’t move any of the limbs she could feel stinging against the dusty floor. Couldn’t unclench the fingers that were digging nails into her palms.

But Jodi knew.

She couldn’t put it into words. Words were beyond her, floating somewhere distant, in a thick-gray cloud that stung when she reached into it like it was swallowing her whole. She had none of the why of this sudden conviction—

But she was glad. Deliriously, viciously glad that Kyle wasn’t here.

The dim apartment smelled stale, almost mildewy, covered in a fine layer of dust. The rubber mat by the door was missing both brothers’ well-worn boots. (Hers were still there, flaking off the mud from their last hike.) Kitchen cabinets gaped open, hinges crooked, shelves swept bare like someone had scooped everything out in a single rush—the counters below them strewn with crumbs and scraps of newspaper and a smashed jar of molding spaghetti sauce.

You’ll never have him, she laughed, sharp and stinging as the blood on her teeth. He got away and he’s still himself, and you’ll NEVER HAVE HIM.

Which was when that presence, that shriek in her head, had, had, had—

What?

Had stiffened, had gone silent. Had shoved—

And now she’s…here.

She’s not tired.

She’s…she’s…

She’s in a room. It’s a room without light. Without windows. Without a door. She’s lying flat on her back staring at the ceiling—except that’s not it at all, because if she really focuses she can tell she doesn’t have a back to lie on. Doesn’t have any body at all. She’s just, just…

Fog. The heavy gray fog that descends over Portland, clings to asphalt and beads on grass and curls hazily in the wake of hissing tires. That rips apart and then knits back together, presses down heavy-heavy-heavy until all of a sudden it…disappears…

Something happens. Outside the room, outside the fog. The whole world trembles, and for a moment there’s—a window? Light seeping in, blinding, stinging, and there’s a deep voice, a familiar voice, bone-deep familiar, whispering Jodi, Jodi, Jodi, wake up—

Fog writhes. Flails. Melts, racing and scattering as the light crashes through the window, and she—she? is she...what is she…

Light keeps coming through the window. She doesn’t like it. She tries to close her eyes—aren’t they already closed? Her head aches.

She’s so tired…

The window goes away again, after a while.

She wants to sleep…

But she’s dreaming again.

(She has to be dreaming. Because it doesn’t make any sense otherwise.)

It’s just flashes. Just for brief snatches of time where—she isn’t in the room. The friendly foggy little room with just barely enough room between its cinderblock walls for her to lie still, still, still…

She’s in a desert. The icy air sucks moisture off the roof of her mouth, and her tongue darts across her lips. Her legs burn, but they keep moving, churning through the sand, grains of it slipping down the back of her sneakers, grinding against her heels.

She wants to stop, to catch her breath, to set down the pack with the heavy straps cutting into her shoulders. She can’t. She can’t stop moving.

The stars drape across the whole sky, packed so densely they’ll bring the purple fabric down on top of them, any second now surely—

A soccer ball slams into the side of her head, and pain firecrackers down her neck, spins dizzily through her skull. 

The slap of the fabric against her sweaty skin echoes, just like the yelp forced from her lungs. Fireworks burst in front of her eyes—the whole world spins—it almost hides the familiar face sprinting toward her, half-laughing half-apologetic. Kyle. Except wait, god, he looks so much older, there’s a rough stubbly beard on his cheeks, how—

She’s in a grocery store, her cheeks pulled into a smile as an old woman hands her a heavy silver package she doesn’t recognize, stale air-conditioner smell climbing acridly up her nostrils. Her lips curl into a smile, her tongue presses against her teeth to start shaping thank you as her feet lift—

She’s lying on her back in a dark room, and for a second she doesn’t realize she isn’t drifting.

Except rocks grind against her back through the thin mattress. The pillow smells like dirt and sweat, and when her head twists restlessly against it, the stuffing shifts into odd clumps. Her tongue darts out across her lips, and licks up the salt from—tears, pouring down her cheeks, burning the corners of her eyes.

The shadows are gray and purple instead of pitch-black, and as she tosses and turns she makes out oddly familiar shapes peeking through their depths. Cardboard boxes, stacked to make a dresser. A little pile of magazines. A couch cushion and the unmistakable twisted shape of a dirty pair of jeans tossed casually on top of it.

I miss them, her lips mouth, twisting her sore cheeks—

She’s so tired.

 Jodi?

She’s awake again, or asleep without dreaming, lying so still her heart isn’t beating, all the flashes banished to the comfortable darkness of the fog.

Except—

 Jodiiiiiiiiiii!

Someone’s outside, knocking on the walls.

That can’t be right, can it? There’s nothing outside the walls for her to listen to. The walls are too thick to hear through. She doesn’t have ears to hear with. Why can she hear that?

She’s so tired. There’s no windows, no light, not yet, but…

 Joooodiiiii? Hello?

This is so stupid. Wanderer says I have to keep looking if I’m going to stay but how would she even know if I wasn’t, ugh, I wish she’d stop WATCHING me like this, it’s my stupid body, you’d think she would KNOW how that works if she’d really been to that many stupid planets—

Be quiet, Jodi mumbles, and the knocking—

Jodi?  the voice says. Oh. Oh NO. And the knocking—

Stops.

Thanks, Jodi says, and rolls over to try to get back to sleep.

But there’s a window. She can see it, even with her eyes closed, silver light flooding through.

Wait.

Her eyes are open.

Her eyes.

She isn’t fog. She isn’t sleeping. She isn’t on her back in a lightless room, barely breathing between the weight of cinderblocks, an unfathomable distance away from thoughts or heartbeats or one consistent body, she is—

She is.

Oh.

Jodi tries to blink.

Her eyes—don’t move. Terror claws at her throat, except—except it’s not her feeling that, is it? Her terror is a dry prickling thing, just behind her eyes, and there’s something else trembling with terror that’s sharp and bright as a razor laid between her lungs—

She tries to move, to raise a hand to press against her aching chest.

Her hands don’t twitch.

They stay exactly where they are, resting lightly on her knees, one finger idly tracing a pockmarked little scar on her right kneecap. She doesn’t recognize that scar. When did she get that scar?

She tries to blink again, but she’s still staring at that brown scar on her knee, her loosely-curled fingers, odd purplish-red dirt underneath her—

What’s going on, she thinks, why can’t I move, and—

NO! someone wails. Except. Inside her head. It’s not FAIR!!!

It sounds…it sounds a little bit like her. Too young, though, too shrill.

 What—

Shut UP!!! The twisted version of her screams, so loudly Jodi winces. For a second she can feel herself slipping back towards the dark room, just to get away from the noise—

“Sunny?” someone asks. “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

Jodi doesn’t recognize this voice either—but at least it’s coming from outside of her head, brushing her eardrums. Soft and high-pitched and weirdly hesitant.

Finally, her eyes move. Which would be good except she’s not the one moving them—

“Fine, Wanda,” her lips say, and Jodi is officially freaking the fuck out. That’s not what she sounds like, is it? It sounds—it sounds—it sounds a little like hearing a recording of her voice, just a little bit off, too high-pitched. Except it also sounds like her mom. Like she’s...older?

WHAT THE FUCK, Jodi tries to scream, but what comes out of her lips is a nervous little laugh, and: “I thought I heard something, for a second, but then it ended up just being a memory.”

“Hmm,” the other person—Wanda?—says. Now that Jodi’s eyes are looking that direction, instead of boring a hole into her knee, she can tell she doesn’t recognize her at all. 

Wanda’s a young woman—if Jodi had to guess, she’d say early twenties, though it’s made harder to tell by the fact that she’s shorter than her even sitting down. (Having been the short one ever since elementary school, Jodi feels both immediate empathy and slightly petty satisfaction). She has dusty blonde hair woven into two tight braids, pale skin with a smattering of freckles, a round face with a dimpled chin—it’s a kind face, even if her eyebrows are currently furrowed over eyes that rake a little too sharply over Jodi.

Which is probably a good thing, actually, Jodi thinks, because there’s something else moving her fucking body—

It’s MY body, the voice hisses. Jodi, like the extremely mature twenty-one year old she is, (27, the voice corrects her, and she ignores that weirdness), tries to force her mouth open so she can start screaming about whatever the fuck this is.

Nothing happens.

“Was it a bad memory?” Wanda asks. “You had a very...intense...expression for a moment there.”

“Yeah,” Jodi’s lips say, sheepishly, as her shoulders flutter up and down. “I was calling Jodi’s name, and all of a sudden I was remembering, um, Kyle doing it one time.”

Wanda doesn’t seem entirely convinced—good, Jodi thinks viciously, she shouldn’t be.

The second voice moans. No, you don’t understand, if she finds out about you she’ll send me away…

“I see,” Wanda says quietly, finally looking away—she looks very tired, all of a sudden. Too tired for how young that face is, and unbearably fragile. “I just keep hoping...I haven’t heard anything from this body either, but Jodi was so much older when you took her…”

Jodi—has no idea what that means. Taken? She was taken? Where? How? Wait—the voice. She was taken by the voice, that’s right. It was, it was, god, what did it call itself?

A flash of memory, disjointed, her mother’s thumb digging into her windpipe—

STOP IT!!! The voice screams, and this time it grates into Jodi, down to the bone, and she’s whirling backwards, backwards, backwards—

No, she tries to yell, but nothing comes out. The other voice is so loud, so much, shoving against her like something solid, pushing her back, cutting off the light—

She’s back in the cinderblock room. No windows. No door.

But she’s not tired.

She’s furious.

“Let me out,” she says—here under the cinderblocks, with the darkness pressing all around her, her voice sounds real. Feels like a rasp, in the throat she can’t see. Feels like her hot breath bouncing back against her face, echoing oddly in the tight stone. “Let me out.”

And she doesn’t really have anything but a voice, doesn’t have fists to raise or legs to kick with, but it feels like she’s battering against the walls anyways—

A crack. Light, odd and silvery, bleeding through it.

She shoves toward it harder—

“—a while since we made any Phoenix raids. What d’you think, Sunny?”

“As long as I get grocery duty!” Jodi’s lips say, without her moving them—but this time she can’t even be terrified, because she recognizes the first voice.

Deep. Warm. Laughing just a little bit, like there’s a joke no one else is in on…

Kyle.

Memory again—her knees hitting dusty linoleum. Mildewed air. Empty cabinets. Blood rusting on her tongue. Despair—NO, no, you can’t have him—

Oh no, the voice that isn’t Jodi, the voice that took her, says. Not again—

“Sunny?” Kyle says, and Jodi’s body is whirling away from Kyle before she even has the chance to realize she was looking at him. Just a glimpse before it’s snatched away...he does have a beard, she thinks dizzily. And his nose is crooked now, bumpy in two different places, like bad breaks. Like someone hit him in the face.

She thinks about the uncertain kid in the ceramics class she’d taken just to get the elective requirement out of the way, with his big gentle hands and his tentative smile, I think we’re s’posed to score the pieces before we stick them together…

“Sorry,” Jodi’s stupid traitorous mouth says, “I thought I heard someone behind us.”

Kyle, Jodi thinks, dazed. They found him. He’s, he’s—

Is he stuck inside his head too? Screaming and flailing? Or is he like her, sleeping so deeply in the fog there’s nothing left of him at all…

He doesn’t have a soul, the voice in her head snaps at her, he’s just human. Stop being so dramatic.

He doesn’t have a soul?  Why would you—

Not like that! The voice groans, and again Jodi’s struck by how young it sounds. Ugh, I forgot you fell asleep in here before we took over publicly. It’s—I’m a soul, okay? I got inserted into this body . But nobody ever found Kyle to do that. He’s just human.

Hope surges through Jodi—Kyle’s human, he’s himself, maybe he’ll get her out—

He steps up next to her, looking cautiously concerned in the dim light of—where are they? Is this a tunnel? Why are they in a tunnel?

Jodi tries to shake her head, is thrown off again when nothing happens.

It’s because it’s my body now, okay?  the voice says.

It’s definitely fucking not, Jodi responds automatically—

And then Kyle speaks, and Jodi’s jolted straight back into despair, because—he’s looking at her, softly, tenderly, but the name he says isn’t hers.

“I don’t hear anything, Sunny,” he says, warm and deep and just a little bit of laughter. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been kinda jumpy today.”

Oh, Jodi thinks, blankly.  Oh, he knows it’s not me.

Take that, the voice—Sunny—says. You’ve been gone. He’s my—friend now.

Oh, Jodi thinks.

And lets herself slip backward.

[ladyshandioftheendless]

Shandi’s Writer’s Month Prompts!

Day 27: Word: Silk | Setting: Car Shop

The long awaited continuation of Day 17! It’s so goddamn cheesy but I kinda love it and I hope you do too! =3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Over the next few days Eric was finding it difficult to focus. His exciting night with Vinnie was all he could think about. Even in his dreams he'd have vivid memories of Vinnie lacing their fingers together and holding his hands tightly as he rode him. He remembered every word from those gorgeous lips.

“Ohhh god, Foxy you feel so fucking good~!!”

He was moaning blissfully and thrusting down so hard the bed was shaking. His eyes were rolling back and his mouth hung open. So perfect~

“Fuuuck…I'm gonna cum, Foxy…I'm gonna cum~!!”

“Show it to me..let me see..!”  

He watched Vinnie lean back and grasp onto his thighs, shouting out loudly and gloriously as he climaxed. It was a beautiful sight~

Shit.

He was daydreaming again.

And now he was hard as a rock.

He groaned and asked his boss if he could be excused for the day. With his jacket tied around his waist.

Of course the dirty thoughts didn’t stop on the drive home, or after rubbing one out in the shower. He needed the real thing. He needed to see Vinnie again.

~*~

On his next night off he went back to the Firehouse, only to find Vinnie standing in front of the bar smiling at him as though he were waiting for him. “Welcome back, Foxy..I missed you~”

“You..were expecting me..?”

“I knew you’d come back for more eventually~”

“I’m..that obvious huh?”

“I think it’s adorable~ Just to let you know..I will have to charge you this time.”

Eric sighed and nodded. “Yes, I know. I brought money with me but I don’t know how mu–” Vinnie pressed a finger to his lips to hush him. “You let me worry about the money. Let’s just have some fun~”

“O-okay~”

~*~

Once they were back in Vinnie’s room, Eric took off his heavy boots. Why did he even wear those in the first place? He rolled his eyes. Guess he was too busy thinking about Vinnie to even put on sensible shoes. He felt Vinnie’s hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing away the tension. “Been working hard, Foxy~?”

“Only so I could come here.”

Vinnie’s laugh was music to his ears. “Did you really miss me that much~?”

“I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve been having dirty thoughts about you all week.”

“Ohhh really~? Did you touch yourself when you thought about me~?”

“Every time.”

“Mmm..I love the thought of you screaming my name while you cum~”

“I can give you a demonstration~”

“Would you~?”

“I kinda wanna do things a little differently this time.”

“You’re the customer after all~ We can do anything you want~”

“Then you don’t mind me taking charge?”

“Honey..I’m flexible. I can be whatever you want me to be~”

“Take off your clothes then.” He smiled when he felt Vinnie shudder against him. “Is that an order, sir~?”

“It’s definitely an order. Stand in front of me. Let me watch you do it.”

“Take a seat then~”

Eric smiled and made himself comfortable in a nearby lounge chair. He watched Vinnie move his body slowly and sensually as he undressed. Soon he could feel his own face starting to heat up. “I..I’ve never had anyone..do a strip tease for me before..”

“Don’t worry..it’ll be our little secret~” He moved closer as he tossed away the last of his clothes, leaning down to position himself between Eric’s open legs. “I bet somebody else is very excited too~”

“Y-yes..very..”

“How about we let him out to play~?”

“Not..quite yet.”

Vinnie pouted. “Why nooot?”

“I told you. I wanna do things differently.”

“How do I fit in~?”

“We’ll find a good..fit for you~” Spotting a black silk scarf draped over the headboard, Eric went over to the bed and grabbed it, winding the ends around his palms. “I think this will do nicely. Stand up for me..and turn around.”

“Oh, yes sir~” Vinnie trembled in anticipation as Eric approached, the floorboards creaking under his feet. The scarf was wrapped around Vinnie’s eyes and tied against the back of his head. “W-what’s this..?”

“A blindfold, what else?”

“You do know I have actual blindfolds right?”

“Shh..I know you have them. I told you I’m doing this my way.”

“Consider me intrigued, Foxy~ What now?”

“Now..turn around..and get on your knees.”

“Y-yes sir~” He enjoyed Vinnie’s eagerness to obey. Maybe there was a small part of him that enjoyed being a Sub as well? “What do you think I’m gonna do to you now, Vin~?”

“Please, sir..” Vinnie leaned forward with his mouth open. “..let me..let me taste your cock~”

“I thought you said you couldn’t fit me in your mouth~?”

“I’ll never know if I don’t try.. Please..?”

“Beg for it.”

“Oh sir, you’re so mean to me~ You have no idea how much I’ve thought about your cock inside me. You felt so good..so so good~ You can get just as much pleasure out of fucking my mouth..I promise you~”

Eric stroked Vinnie’s hair. “I should’ve expected you to be so good with your words~”

“Did I make you hard, sir~?”

“That’s for you to decide~” He guided Vinnie’s hands to his fly, helping him pull down the zipper. “I think you can figure out the rest from here~”

“Thank you..for keeping my hands free, sir~” Vinnie sounded absolutely delighted as he pulled Eric’s cock free, circling the head with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it. “..mmmmm~” His moan sent shivers up Eric’s spine. “F-fuck…maybe you can’t..get it all in but..you make a damn good effort~”

~END~

[crystalelemental]

We have now concluded the sixth entry in the Villain Arc, and oh man.   Oh man, is this my favorite?  I dunno!  I think I just have to continue coming to terms with the fact I really like Lysandre.

I talked about the first half already, but to recap, I really like the setup.  I like that we get some interesting Malva and Looker dynamics, with Malva actually being threatening and a bit of a problem.  I love Looker, I'm so glad Emma's here, and if you can't focus on the villain team doing their villain thing, then focusing on Looker Fam is a spectacular pivot, and I'm all for this continuing to be a focus in the Alola VA, provided it doesn't detract from Alolan units getting alts.   Though if they wanted to give me Looker fam Sygna Suits with Ultra Beasts...

Anyway, I really like the decision to focus on Looker and his group.  I’m kinda hoping that continues going forward, because to be honest, the Villain Arcs have a lot of issues that mostly center on this whole endeavor being The Giovanni Show, starring Giovanni.  Team Rocket is behind literally everything, because this series cannot get Gen 1′s dick out of its mouth for one goddamned minute.  Even the ones that are still fairly separated wind up involving them to some degree.  And it’s cutting into time that could be spent elsewhere.  I recognize that some antagonists like Lysandre here cannot go full villain again and still stick around.  I don’t begrudge them that.  But I also feel like this VA shows exactly where the problem is.

The protagonists are 100% pointless.  It was like this with Hoenn.  And frankly with Unova.  They don’t matter.  What did Brendan and May actually accomplish in Hoenn?  Nothing.  The story was centered on Maxie and Archie and how they’ve steered away from their villainy, and how Giovanni played everyone with this distraction.  Great, cool.  Unova?  Focused more on N and Hugh, which was cool, but also has literally nothing to do with Hilda or Hilbert, to say nothing of how completely irrelevant Rosa and Nate were.  Calem and Serena continue this trend.  They collectively accomplish jack-all.  It’s amazing how unimportant they are.  And trying to emphasize the protagonists in these stories?  Frankly is dragging them down.

The best part of this, bar nothing, is Malva and Looker’s dynamic in the first half.  The tension is divine, and the development for Malva is really nice.  But the second half, when Looker’s in action, isn’t strictly terrible, but gets a little choppy because it’s interspersed with “And let’s check in on the gang and Lysandre.”  Pick one.  There’s no reason Lysandre can’t be present in the hideout Looker is infiltrating, and strike a deal that way.  There’s no reason Sycamore couldn’t have gone with Looker to find Lysandre, and made this whole segment more cohesive.  The separation of these two bits really doesn’t do anything to help the narrative flow.  Which is a shame, because by separate parts, this rules!

Looker, Anabel, and Emma teaming up to track down and put a stop to Team Rocket, who have been the major masterminds behind the last five catastrophes?  Fantastic.  This is exactly the direction I want that to go, and I live for Looker segments, I am desperately hoping for more with Alola.

Lysandre getting focus as an antagonist that has completely separate views that puts him wildly at odds with the major antagonists?  Great!  I like that!  It’s a way to not have to get into the moral standing of Lysandre broadly, but you can still paint him as an evil dude by having him murder grunts.  Which he does, by the way.  It’s not hard confirmed or anything, but there is no other way to interpret that scene.  Lysandre murdered people, and it’s rad.

But I feel like we’re spending too much time with Lysandre justifying that he’s not actively hostile, and that he hasn’t broken Sycamore’s promise, and that we’re reaffirming that he’s on standby to see if everyone can make a better world, and not enough time on him doing anything.  This could’ve been a lot more dynamic if he were battling against Team Rocket as well, even momentarily to end the battle between Looker Fam and the admins, and getting Looker to let them take the grunts by force rather than the sudden “Surprise, we called dibs!” we get.

The only thing I did like about the gang’s inclusion is that it’s Shauna who sets up Lysandre’s re-affirmation.  I have this whole thing about how Lysandre’s mentality being about “chosen ones” and those who have the right to rule etc etc is basically just another fascist talking point, and that the antithesis of that is your friend group.  They may not be as talented as the central protagonist, but their presence and importance still exists, and keeps you on the ground, recognizing the importance of everyone’s involvement.  I dunno, I just liked how it tied in.

I also admittedly love the clownshoes of Lysandre not being evil, but also going on repeatedly about how Volcanion’s steam bursts can level mountains, and can create a new nation of beauty that he wants.  Like, dude is taking about wild amount of ecological destruction and the displacement of people and Pokemon alike with such a project, and they’re all like “Oh thank god, it’s not genocide again.  We were worried.”  Like it’s so funny.

That said, this whole event is very much setup for the next, and given Lusamine is in a similar boat of “We don’t really want to acknowledge the full extent of their villainy,” I’m willing to bet that this will primarily focus on Looker Fam once again.  Which is great.  I just also hope we can kinda get away from the protagonists needing to be there at all.  Just let Aether Fam and Looker Fam do their thing, which hopefully involves someone punching Giovanni.

[damienthepious]

oh oh oh I always forget to ask for commentaries!! But please, if you have literally anything to share about your thought process/feelings for the Relentless fics I have not stopped thinking about them since Tuesday and would love love love to hear

I GOT REALLY DISTRACTED AND FORGOT ABOUT THIS ASK BECAUSE I SAW IT ON MOBILE FIRST, ONE THOUSAND APOLOGIES!!!! SORRYYYYY

i tend to have a little trouble with compiling general thoughts, but as for Relentless.... it's interesting to me the focus the series is trying to take, and I say "trying to take" specifically because i did not EXPECT for Rilla's emotional state to have such a huge impact on this first section of the series?

It's one of those things where the writing kinda gets away from me. Rilla's defensiveness and isolation was something i was considering from the first moment i considered writing any of this out, and I knew that Damien was going to be a factor in tempering her, in giving her a place of solace, where she doesn't HAVE to have her armor up, metaphor or no.

And, heartbreakingly, she can't be that person around her brothers in this 'verse? Not at the start, at least. The fact that she made it to knighthood and Marc is still being gatekept is kind of a point of contention with them, at the moment. Marc does not, at all, hold it against her, because he knows that it's the fault of the knights in charge of testing, AND he knows fully well, FULLY well, that they gave Rilla an impossible gauntlet before they let her in too, but- Rilla does kind of blame herself.

She feels like a sellout. Tal refused to keep going any further with his own attempts at knighthood without Marc at his side, but when Rilla was in a similar position a few years later (after Marc and Tal had decided to take a break from the trials and try to find a different path to knighthood with just kinda... going out and ACTING like knights to try to prove themselves), she just. Took the thing in her teeth. She wasn't gonna let the gatekeepers hold her back, the INSTANT she saw her opening she took it. And then she felt guilty about Marc later. And it isn't like she hasn't tried to get Marc further along, too, but-

Marc knows that Rilla's position is extremely tenuous, as a former Exile and as the first "lady knight" by a couple months, much to Caroline's irritation, and he doesn't want her to stick her neck out for him. And also. He wants to EARN it. he doesn't want to lever Rilla's position for himself. He wants to look the Queen in the eye on his own goddamn merit.

so there's some Tension, there, honestly. Though they do absolutely still all love each other, and they do still all travel and quest together most of the time! For Rilla, it's EXTREMELY convenient to have a pair of highly skilled almost-knights around when she needs someone to do something that might technically be treason, or at least deeply frowned upon. Plausible deniability is a valuable asset, when you're a knight but also a contrarian and a rebel.

[flowersdaggersviolasandblood]

Assassin with a Heart of Gold

Name: Admaer Daeneiros (He/Him)

Race: High Elf

Class: Rogue (Assassin)

Background: Criminal

WARNING, SPOILERS AHEAD

While it was fun playing the Dark Urge, we're gonna put Torments' story on hold and focus on our other worthy heroes. Starting with Admaer. To catch everyone up since the last time I spoke of my bombastic side-eye Rogue, Admaer was in Baldur's Gate looking to assassinate Lord Enver Gortash, one of the few individuals who enslaved him in his past. He got snatched up by the mindflayers, had a parasite placed in his skull, and now we're here.

His main party, thus far, seems to be Shadowheart, Astarion, and Lae'zel. Wyll is at camp and Gale was completely ignored (maybe we'll meet him again in the future). He and the gang went to Emerald Grove in search for healing. They were able to interrogate the Tiefling, Zorru, about where the Githyanki Creche is, which Admear allowed Lae'zel to do her thang. This is where I was so much on Lae'zel's good side that she got hot and bothered. Admaer politely refused (this is a Astarion romance run).

With the Creche revealed, Admaer is most likely going to go in the direction of that quest than anything else. Until then, Admaer is still willing to take Shadowhearts advice and at least see if there's anyone within the Grove that can help.

Admaer entered the inner grove, really looking to talk with Nettie and not involve himself in the tension between the Tieflings and the Druids. But he would happen upon a scene of Kagha threatening to imprison a Tiefling child for stealing the holy idol of Silvanus. Initially, Admaer mostly stood and watch, but he decided to peer within Kagha's mind, learning that she's power hungry and exerting that power upon the weak. Now, this doesn't make Admaer do a 180 and decide to save the Tieflings, but seeing the poor kid frightened, and being reminded of his own troubled past, he extends an olive branch and asks that Kagha let the girl go.

He does talk with Kagha for a brief minute, but he goes straight to Nettie. Being a Rogue (and a Criminal/Spy one at that), I was putting heavy emphasis on sneaking around and touching things I shouldn't, so Admear was able to get his hands on the antidote book you can find before going deeper into Halsin's study room.

Admaer saw that Nettie was holding a poisonous branch of Kelemvor's Kiss (didn't know what it was initially) and saw that Nettie was being shifty, so he wasn't completely honest with her. This resulted in him getting nearly poisoned and locked in the room with her. Admaer was able to steal away the antidote and he "promised" to take the wyvern poison should he turn. To Admaer, this was a near waste of time and only pushed his resolve to reach the Gith Creche.

However, Nettie did provide another alternative. Halsin, the original First Druid of Emerald Grove, has been studying up on the infected people who got the parasite and he knows more about this than anyone else within 100 miles from here. Admaer still isn't hopeful about this, especially since he's currently either imprisoned or dead, but if push comes to shove; Admear will consider looking for the First Druid.

Before leaving the Grove, Admaer noticed that Shadowheart made a pained noise and her hand started to make a strange glow. Admaer didn't really "ask" about it, I more like to see it that Shadowheart just decided to come forth about it, because after she explained what that supposedly was, Admaer left it alone. Did a few side quests and events at the grove and we're on our way to the Gith Creche! (Here's a alive Afira for those traumatized by the last post involving her and Torment ;A;)

Also I finally learned how to dye my characters clothes. The original color of the +1 padded armor didn't really fit Admaer, and this new color still doesn't (he's a Rogue goddamn it, he needs dark and edgy clothing!), but this look is slowly growing on me. Now I want to buy or craft all the dyes!

You may have noticed in the previous pic that Raphael is in that scene. Yep, same place, same time too! To be honest, I prefer finding him while trying to sleep in for the night, the lighting does not do him wonders in this scene. Regardless, homie snatches Admaer and the game into the House of Hope, offering a easy fix to remove the parasite.

Although Admaer refused the offer, that doesn't mean he completely disregarded it in his heart. Admaer will most likely keep this in the furthest backburner of his mind, but it will sit there if there truly is no other way. All the more reason to hope that the Lae'zel is right or Halsin is alive.

While traveling, Admaer and the gang ran into Edowin, Andrick, and Brynna. This would be the first time Admaer decides to fully call upon his Illithid and enforce his will upon the two apprentices and gain information about the Absolute.

After learning what he needed from this, he told them to leave. Seeing how this power could be useful in case they need a bit of mind probing influence, Admaer agrees with Astarion that they should utilize this power. Though, he does also agree that there should be some caution on using this power too much.

As Admaer was searching the dead Edowin, he has a moment

Admaer had this strange compulsion to remove Edowin's parasite from within. Try as he might to block out this influence, he would obtain a tadpole in a jar. Now, I know that you could eat this to gain more powers from your tadpole, but I was refused this offer, told that my Guardian will give more insight on this later.

[touyasdoll]

Bakugo+🚬+smut

Frustrated

NSFW, Minors DNI

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: smoking, exhibitionism, public sex, biting, unprotected sex

The cool breeze of the evening air hit you as you stepped outside, letting the employee entrance door of the agency swing shut behind you. You sucked in a breath of fresh air, wrinkling your nose at the smell of smoke permeating your nostrils.

Glancing over, you saw your patrol partner inhaling the cigarette that he held between his lips. He was hunched over, sitting on a bench with his elbows resting on top of his knees, looking about as approachable as he usually did.

"Didn't realize you were a smoker," you took a step closer, dipping a toe into the water to gage his mood, "Wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

He spared a glance in return, staring back down at the ground as he took another drag, "Something to take the edge off." He paused before scooting over on the bench and nodding to the seat beside him, "Sit, if you want."

"Oh, thanks," you offered a small smile, which went unnoticed as you smoothed your skirt and sat down beside him, "Would you mind if I bummed one off ya?"

He scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk, "And here I thought that you were judging me, Princess," he reached into his pocket, flicking his wrist to flip open the pack in your direction.

"You say that like I have room to judge," you scoffed back, picking a cigarette out and tucking it between your teeth as you held your hand out for a light.

The corners of his lips upturned in an amused grin as he held a single finger up and leaned in. You followed his lead, bringing your face closer to his as he pressed the pad of his finger to the end of the cigarette. You held his ruby red gaze as you hollowed your cheeks, breathing life into the rolled tobacco when his finger sparked against it.

It was hard to tell if it was the rush of nicotine, that you were so unaccustomed to, or the proximity of your face to his that had your head spinning. You broke first, eyes darting away as you leaned back, exhaling the smoke you'd held in your lungs.

He kept his eyes trained on you, watching the way your lips pursed together as the puff left them, letting his eyes wander lower, casting them over your torso, along the length of your short skirt, which fanned out over just enough of your thighs to be considered decent.

He whipped his head away, hoping to make the motion look casual as you turned your attention back to him, "What're you still doing here so late?"

"Put off a little too much paperwork last week, so I had to play catch up," he settled his elbows back on his knees. "I could ask you the same thing, you're hardly ever here past quittin' time."

You shrugged, exhaling decisively as you leaned back on your hand, crossing one leg over your knee, feeling your skirt fall a little higher on your thigh. He seemed to take notice, his eyes following the fabric and yours following his stare as you smiled to no one but yourself.

"Been feeling a little frustrated lately. A little, pent up, you know?" You tilted your head slightly to the side, exposing your neck as you arched your back, the motion exaggerating the way your chest heaved as you took another slow drag. “Trying to put some of that energy into work.”

He stole a glance at your chest, clearing his throat as he caught himself, trying to pass it off as a cough, a symptom of the white stick burning between his fingers, but you knew better. He rubbed his thigh, inhaling another puff as he sat up straighter.

"I getcha," he nodded, speaking as he held the smoke in his lungs, "What's got you fucked up?"

"If I'm being honest?" You tilted your head in thought, staring straight ahead, "I could really use a good fuck."

You had to focus to keep your poker face on as you watched his reaction from the corner of your eye. His eyebrows raised, head whipping towards you, trying to confirm if his ears had deceived him.

"You really down that bad? I find that hard to believe,” he chuckled, flicking away the stub of his worn cigarette. “Lookin’ the way you do, you could walk into any bar you wanted and find someone to take you home.”

“Maybe I could,” you ran a hand up your thigh, playing with the hem of you skirt, tugging it up just a bit higher, nearly enough for him to have a peek at what was beneath it. “But there’s this guy I’ve been trying to get at for a while now. Little dense though. Real shame he can’t see how hard I’ve been trying to fuck him.”

“Huh,” his eyes alight, moving from your bared thigh to meet your gaze, a playful smirk on his lips. “Guy sounds like a real asshole. What do you see in him?”

“Eh, he has his moments,” You smiled, tilting your head and turning your torso in his direction, “He is a bit of an asshole. Helps that he’s hot.”

“Well at least this dumb bastard’s got that goin’ for him.” He kicked a leg over the bench, straddling it as he faced you and smirked, “I’d be kicking myself if I were him.”

“Oh, would you?” You mirrored his actions, pressing your skirt against the bench as you kicked your leg over it, “what else might you do if you were him?”

“Well now, that really depends on you,” he shifts forward, weight resting on his hands, sitting just between your spread thighs, “what are you into, baby?”

“How ‘bout I show you? Mind holdin’ this for me?” You smile, keeping your eyes on him as you pull the cigarette from your mouth, blowing the smoke off to the side. Carefully, you place it between his lips, resting your hands on his shoulders as you stand and straddle him.

“Not at all,” it wiggles between his lips as he cups your ass, bringing your hips against his as he rocks forward, grinding his erection against your barely clothed pussy.

You moan, a soft, breathy noise into his ear as you catch the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging to tilt his head to the side. He echoes the noise as you kiss and suck at the skin of his neck.

“You sure you wanna do this here?” He pants, slipping a hand between your thighs and pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric.

“Yes,” you breathe, wrapping an arm around his neck as you trap the cigarette in his mouth between two fingers.

He sucks in, eyes locked with yours as you pull it from his lips and flick it away. His hand comes behind your head to pull you in, your mouth hovering just in front of his as he breathes the smoke out, brushing your lips together. You inhale it, hungry for anything he’s willing to give you, mewling as two fingers slip past your panties, sinking into your core slowly.

“This all for me?” He smirks, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your lip, before kissing along your jaw as both of your arms wrap around him, your hips shifting to meet the gentle thrust of his fingers.

“Yes, Sir,” you moan, a little too loudly as his thumb circles your clit, and bury your face in his shoulder, “oh, fuck.”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he picks up the pace, leaning back to watch your expressions. Your mouth falling open, your eyes rolling back as you groan. He smirks, eyes falling over the rest of your body, his cock twitches as the sight of you writhing on top of him. “Least I can do is give you that after makin’ you wait so goddamn long.”

“Fuck me,” it’s a whisper, a plea against his lips as you press your forehead to his.

He captures your lips in the first proper kiss that you share and it’s everything that he is; rough, fiery, and passionate. His lips vibrate against yours as he groans in anticipation, lifting the both of you off the bench enough to wriggle his pants down, his aching cock springing free.

You put your weight on your feet as he lines himself up with your entrance, panting impatiently in his ear while two fingers hook into your panties, pulling them aside. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you let him guide your hips back on top of his, impaling yourself onto his thick cock.

He grunts, squeezing your ass with one hand as you roll your hips, biting your lip to suppress the strangled cry of pleasure in your throat. Another hand travels up your shirt, exploring your chest and pulling the front of your top up. He pulls the cup of your bra down, pinching your nipple between his fingers as his face settled between the valley of your breasts, littering them with kisses and kitten licks.

“Katsuki,” your head rolls back as you thrust your hips in tandem with him, moaning at the delirious amount of bliss you’ve found yourself drowning in.

Every part of you feels like it’s on fire. All thanks to the thrill of the moment, the heat of his hands on your body. The months of built-up sexual tension finally giving way to something even better than you’d fantasized.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he’s breathless, kissing a trail between your breasts, beneath your chin, all the way to your lips as his hands seized your hips, “gonna look so pretty when you cream all over this cock. You’re close aren’t you, baby?”

He smirked as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, kissing you deeply when he relinquished it. His hand rested on your inner thigh, thumbing your clit. Your mouth dropped open, ushering moan and moan against the triumphant grin that he wore.

“Gonna cum, oh shit, I’m gonna cum,” you tucked yourself into the crook of his shoulder, biting down as you let go. Your walls spasmed around him, clenching tight enough to bid him to follow you off the cliff. He growled, his eyes falling shut as his feral noises met your breathless whines.

You kept your arms around him, one hand holding the back of his neck as you laid there against him, his arms encircling your waist. The pair of you sat there for a suspended moment, coming down from your highs together as your fingers continued exploring each other’s bodies. Gentle, soothing motions against overly sensitive skin in the afterglow of the act.

“How ya feelin’, sweetheart? Still frustrated?” You felt his lips curl into a proud smile as he kissed your cheek, making his way to your lips.

“Mm,” you kissed him slowly, resting your forehead against his as you both pulled away. “I might need another round, if you’re up for it.”

“You kiddin’ me?” He chuckled deviously, “Better prepare yourself, baby. I’m gonna ruin you if you let me take you home.” His hands trailed over your sides, dragging down your thighs as he squeezed, pulling a quiet groan from your lips as you smiled back.

“I think I can handle you,” you ran a hand down his chest, all the way down, letting your fingers ghost along his already semi-hard-again member, as you whispered with a smirk against his lips, “Dynamight.”