#i think the gentle pressure of the show ending + the attention focus of new media got into my head a lil bit.

[palismet]

hello i do still be working on my *checks notes* seventeen hunter fics in progress. no i have not finished any of them. yes i am mentally ill ✌️

[elisela]

homecoming stallison, 1.2k, au, future fic, getting together day 9: slippers

“Allison?”

She jerks her head up from the menu she’d been studying, waiting to place her to-go order at 59ers. It’s Sunday morning, cold enough that she’d tossed on an old sweatshirt before leaving her new house, early enough that she’d thought she couldn’t possibly run into anyone she used to know.

Clearly, she was wrong.

There’s a small crowd in the waiting area, absolutely none of them other than herself under the age of sixty, so it’s easy to spot who had called out to her—leaning in the doorway, long-limbed and relaxed, is a face she hasn’t seen since the day they graduated college.

She can feel her mouth parting—partially in surprise, partially because the laugh lines on his face and scruff on his cheeks have caused him to become more handsome than he was when she’d known him, something her twenty-two year old self would have never thought was possible. Stiles then was gorgeous, with skin that seemed to glow under the lights of the lacrosse field and a thrum of energy that felt like a tangible web around him, dragging everyone into his orbit of neverending excitement. Stiles now looks like he walked straight out of her daydreams, solid and dependable, the cut of his uniform highlighting a more solid build than she ever thought was possible.

Heat floods to her cheeks. She’d thought about him a few times as she’d planned her move back to Beacon Hills, never letting herself go too far into the fantasy where they run into each other in town and end up living happily ever after, and now she’s standing in front of him with hair she hasn’t washed in three days thanks to a broken water heater, a BHU sweatshirt with holes on the cuff, and slippers on her feet.

“Stiles,” she says, his name coming out too breathy. One of the ladies waiting for a table looks up at her, lips stretching into a gentle smile, and Allison prays she’s not as obvious as she thinks she is.

He takes a step into the crowded lobby, door swinging shut behind him. She goes to move towards him automatically and startles when someone clears their throat, calling her attention. “Are you ready to order?”

She looks down at the menu in her hands—it may as well be written in another language, because she can’t get her eyes to focus. But Stiles just plucks it from her hands and says, “We’ll take a table, Kathy, thanks.” When she looks up at him, he adds, “You can still order to-go if you need. I just thought—”

“No, that’s good. I’d like to catch up.”

To her surprise, the waitress beckons them to follow her immediately. The irritation Allison expects from the already waiting customers doesn’t come, and she thinks she understands why when Kathy shows them to a table and says, “I’ll be back with coffee in a minute, Sheriff.”

She looks at him in surprise, and Stiles blushes, cheeks growly blotchy red under his slight beard. Allison still finds it just as endearing as she always did. “I still think at least half the town didn’t realize it was a new Stilinski running,” he says. There’s a light pressure on her back as he guides her to a seat, and it runs a familiar thrill through her veins. “But it’s going pretty good, I guess.”

“You’re so young,” she muses, dropping the menu on the table. “I know you had talked about following in your dad’s footsteps, but I figured that’d be later.”

He laughs, foot bumping against hers under the table. “I’m almost forty, I think young is in the past. Come on, tell me about you, though. Are you visiting for homecoming?”

She’d forgotten about how big of a deal homecoming was in Beacon Hills. “No, I just moved back, actually.”

“In your parent’s old place?”

She makes a face. “God, no.” 

Their conversation flows easily; he tells her about his post-college life and how he and his ex are on friendly terms and their kids are all teenagers who are getting ready to go to high school and college themselves, and she tells him about sticking around on the east coast for much longer than she needed to after her divorce but how it ultimately led to an opportunity in Beacon Hills that she couldn’t turn down. 

At the end, when Stiles finally nudges his empty plate towards the center of the table and Allison is wondering how she could possibly extend their time together, he looks across the table at her and smiles, a little softer than the rest of them had been. “You know, I had such a thing for you in college, and you were always so nice about it.”

She sucks in a breath. “I—” she falters, and the smile slips on his face. “I’d hoped,” she admits, reaching for her cup of coffee to give herself something to do with her hands. “I could never tell, but there was a reason I went to all those lacrosse matches and it wasn’t because I loved the game.”

His mouth had parted when she’d started speaking, and he’s looking at her a little wide-eyed, and in it she sees the boy she spent so much time hanging around just to see him smile. “Scott—my buddy, you remember him? He was in some of your classes, also had a total crush on you, so I couldn’t—bros before—I’m not gonna finish that, never mind. I was going to say I was hoping you could overlook the past and we could be friends now that you’re back in town but I think I’d rather take you out on a date, if that’s cool.”

There’s a warmth in her chest that’s spreading outwards and she feels lit up from the inside, more alive than she has been in years. “Homecoming is next week, isn’t it? We could go together if you’re not working.”

Stiles nods, reaching his hand across the table, and she doesn’t hesitate to set her cup down and reach back. “I can make that happen,” he says, “but I’m not sure I want to wait a week to see you again.”

Allison feels as though she might spontaneously combust if she has to go a week without him. “I'm usually done with work around three,” she says, and hopes she doesn’t come off as too desperate when she adds, “and I don’t exactly have a social life here yet, so my nights are pretty much free this week.”

But Stiles just squeezes her hand before pulling back, sliding his wallet out of his pocket and waving her off after setting a handful of bills on the table. “Maybe you could keep them open for me,” he says, sliding out of his seat. “Not all of them, I mean, just—“ he breaks off and shakes his head, laughing a bit when she stands up next to him. “Man, I thought I’d be better at this by now but you’ve got me feeling like I’m right back in college, tongue-tied and starstruck. This breakfast would have been my dream come true back then. Not that it’s not now, I’m not—”

She kisses him. She can’t help it—he’s flushed again, talking with his whole body, and she steps right into his space and lifts herself up just enough to fit their mouths together. “All of them are fine with me,” she says quietly when she pulls away. “Maybe we could start right now?”

also on ao3

[griffin-wood]

title: would you run away with me?

pairing: kaia.

a/n: title from call it what you want by taylor swift <3 also, a birthday fic from myself to myself which is called self indulgence hihi! forgive me for the grammatical errors and enjoy!! 💜 (This concept might be weirdly tad bit confusing, but dkdokd; I'm just going with my gut and I hope I have written Kenzie well here brrrr.)

Being the mayor's son, never really has its perks. It made him numb to stand by his dad's side, and put on a show for the sake of the people. Unfortunately, that's something he can't escape from. Being under the scrutiny of the media his whole life, made him this way. The transformation throughout his life was place under the limelight of being known, and it's exhausting.

He would rather be staying at home, in his own solitude; and the good company of his own. But, duty calls and he couldn't show that he's a weakling; he never does.

However, today is a bit different. He wasn't alone at the back, as his eyes drifted from the podium where his father is speaking towards her standing beside him, listening intently through her expression which Kent finds it quite adorable.

She got her hands clasps together, as she listens. He remembers, she mentions how her focus is one of her greatest traits actually; and here she is doing just that. And on the other hand, he was the one who haven't been focused at all. As the audience applauses, Maia turns to look at him. Her smile somehow is fill with reassurance, and he found it familiarly comforting.

Maia closes the little gap between them, as the sound of his father's voice over the speakers. It gets too loud, somehow it brings him back to the time when he was a little kid. His late mother was holding his hand, as the three of them posed as the happiest family at the time, something within those flashes and sounds brings him to an olden memory he either wants to relive all over again or forget. Something tugged his attention, a movement his way pulled him back out of the reverie of memories, where he was met with audiences voices and a worried looking Maia.

"hey, you okay?" She says quietly, her hands immediately taking his. It's always cold, and there she is warming it up, as glitch would call a thermodynamics state of relations. And it's proven, her warm hands fits within the palm of his cold ones.

He was about to answer, before a sound of looming applause fills the area. But, his gaze only found hers. She hasn't move yet, her eyes laced with worry; terrified of something happening to him. It feels fairly new, to have someone watch over you. Care about you to an extent, because all the affection in his life beforehand only has become a memory. He only has been taking care of himself on his own. He doesn't need to be saved, he can survive on his own. But, as gray irises met; the gentleness in her gaze makes him think. Sometimes the thoughts were incoherent, some were fuzzy but she's always there. Somewhere, looking out for him.

He never tore that gaze away, as the panic filled her eyes still. He lets out a breath, as Maia smiles, before taking his hand squeezing it thrice.

"even the mightiest heroes needs saving sometimes." He recalls a few weeks ago, she told him this as she was cleaning one of his wounds. He groans at the pressure, before eye-ing the statement.

And that's what she thought of him, a hero on its own. A hero for standing here and being here, that's enough for her to trust him. And she did, she always have been. However, the heroes that he is aware of; often end up on his own. But, yeah; he could save himself, but would he want to be alone?

And in the middle of it all, he realizes; Maia walks him off the side of the stage. She sat him down on of the plastic chairs, as she stands by; with a wet towel in hand which he's curious on the origins as Maia damp it over his face.

He stops her for a moment, a deep breath before looking at her. "Let's skip the next one." ‘would you run away with me?’

His words left his mouth, only for her ears only. And that's his way of asking, let's run away somewhere away from here. The only savior he never knew he needed, but one that he never expected to be.

Maia's eyes widen in surprise, before she looks down with a wide smile, as a giggle escapes her lips.

"duh, always. I believe we're gonna have much more fun than this." ‘yes.’

And that's all that's needed for them to be to call it what they want. As the audience disperse through their vision, he got everything he need right here with him; in a form of a red clad human being, the silent gratitude fills within his chest as he pulls her close at the side.

Chest to chest, heart to heart, this time he'll be alright.

THE END.

Tags: @wayhavenots , @kalanevans , @cadetzarneki , @takemyopenheart , @indorilnerevarine , @maeflower

[shadowetienne]

More watching Japanese Nationals. It’s the Men’s Free Skate to wrap things up (may try to watch the gala too though). First two groups have shaken things up!

GROUP 1

Kazuki Kushida (23)

I feel like he lost the vibes needed for a Michael Jackson program a little bit to having to focus so hard on the jumps. He got the 4T, but the jumps as a whole were a bit of a mess, and it kept him from ever quite getting momentum on the program as a whole.

Mitsuki Sumoto (21)

He has an elegance and musical sensitivity that hasn’t really clicked with his technical elements. I really wish that he’d been guided towards ice dance or pairs when he was younger because I think that he could have been good at one of them (with the pressure of the bigger jumps taken off). He’s retiring though, and I hope that he can be happy with the skates he had.

Tsudoi Suto (15 - Juniors)

His balance was fighting him on the landings at the start. He’s got a great foundation, but needs to work on his consistency. I’m looking forward to him developing his skating in juniors and bringing forward the lovely elements of his skating.

Haru Kakiuchi (16 - Juniors)

He showed up with musicality and performance from the very start. 4T+3T combo, nice! Good work getting that out. He’s got nice spin positions. Great commitment to the music and program, it was fun seeing him sing along as he skated. He’s a delight to watch, and he’s got a lot of potential.

Lucas Tsuyoshi Honda (20)

His elegance and gentle musicality have developed in the past few seasons. He had some really nice tech elements, and some big misses on tech elements.

Haruya Sasaki (19 - Junior)

Lovely skating, and I like how connected he seems to his music. The jumps are holding a lot of his attention though, and pull him away from everything else. Good work here, and I see a lot of potential for him, especially because he has great lines already!

GROUP 2

Kazuki Hasegawa (21)

Good speed across the ice. His movements really don’t feel fully finished a lot of the time, and it makes a lot of his movements seem rushed. I want to see him figure that out, work on hands/finishing movements.

Shingo Nishiyama (20)

He also does ice dance, and man does it show. I really think that his strengths end up a little wasted in singles, so I hope that he’s able to develop that ice dance side of his skating. Sounds like he has a partner (new?) but they didn’t make it to nationals? I would love to see how he skates with a partner. He’s so elegant and poised. But the jumps appear to be a struggle. He’s got beautiful spins, and just those edges in the spread eagle are to die for. I want to see him thrive in ice dance because he’s got the skating skills for it.

Kosho Oshiyama (19)

He’s doing a Top Gun program, of course he is! He commits his entire being to his programs, and it’s wonderful. The jumps aren’t quite up to the level of performance, but he’s going for them, and it pays off a lot of the time. He’s so fun and enjoyable to watch. Honestly, I could see him doing incredibly well in pairs if you could find him a partner to match his energy (and who enjoys the same sort of fun offbeat programs).

Seigo Tauchi (14 - Juniors)

He’s got beautiful lines, but he’s clearly still working on developing his jumps. Lovely spins as well. I’m really looking forward to him developing his skating over the next few years in Juniors. There were some moments of excellent musicality that are good to see.

Takeru Amine Kataise (18 - Juniors)

He’s been one of my favorite juniors this season, so I wanted to see him do well. The 3A was not there today at all. He’s got beautiful skating and edges that I love to watch. He’s also got wonderful spins. Jumps are certainly a thing that happen to him though sometimes.

Kao Miura (17)

I was not expecting him to be this low after the SP. It’s certainly a testament to how strong this field is for him to land here after the SP. Kao’s first few jumps were a struggle, but he got his feet under him properly after that. He’s so fast and feels this music so well. I love his spins and his musicality throughout the program!

Let’s see how much placements get shaken up in the next two groups! It’s definitely been a roller coaster already.

[bluecookies02]

Dabi x Reader x Hawks

It was always the three of us-NSFW

summary: DabiHawks is already established and the two of them are dating. You've been their best friend for years and them getting together feels like two heartbreaks at once. But- Take a guess man I dunno...I'm under the impression tht they like you too🤷‍♀️

❗️warnings❗️: slight angst (only the begging, your heart will be fine I promise), eating out, threesome, double penetration, creampie, praise...sex?

word count: 3k

Edited 13. January 2021

You're sick of it.

There's always a bittersweet taste on your tongue when the three of you hang out now.

Nothing really changed if you were trying to look at it objectively.

They still talked to you like before.

Invited you over, chilled with you, fuck even watched movies and cuddled with you.

Yet there was a string being pulled at your heart every time they kissed in front of you, held hands, whispered to each other...

You were watching a stupid comedy, your eyes blankly looking at the screen while you tried not to focus on the way their fingers tangled together, drawing small circles over each other's knuckles as they laughed at the screen.

Their hands were on the pillow that was placed in your lap, your small form in between them.

You try to focus back on the movie, ignoring the sound of cloud nine laughter that filled your ears.

You missed half of the scenes already, you can't make yourself watch it at this point, so you zone out again, falling down the rabbit hole you always find yourself in.

"Songbird, everything alright?" Keigo's worried voice snaps your attention back to reality, his brows furrowed as he stares at your glistening eyes. You don't know how much time passed but you didn't know you were so close to crying until his voice snapped you out of it.

Dabi's hands find purchase of your cheek, turning your face to him so that he could see what made Hawks turn off the TV.

You're met with blue eyes, a look of utter concern causing your skin to crawl, making it hard to fight the urge to punch something, anything.

"Talk to us doll, you know we're here" your heart shatters in pieces, hot tears piling up until they began to freely fall down your face, your fists clutching the pillow, your knuckles turning white.

They've seen you cry many times before, both of their arms flying around you to hold you tight, but your arms pushed and nagged at theirs, your small body shaking and kicking them away.

The fucking nicknames, the closeness of their bodies made you feel like you were suffocating, finally being able the breathe once they let go and you ended up on your feet.

You took a large gulp of air. You've practiced this. Replayed the sentence over and over until you learned how to say it even through tears. At this point, you couldn't keep stitching your heart up every time you spent time with then.

"I can't hang out with you guys anymore" it felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders until you looked back at them. You're gonna do this and then cry when you get back home. You got this.

"What the fuck? Why?" Dabi was the first one to speak, standing up and coming closer to you until you stepped away.

He grits his teeth and stays in place, Keigo's fingers pulling the hem of his sleeves to let you have your space.

"I...I think we at least deserve an explanation...yeah?" Keigo's broken voice surged through the room, Dabi's hand reaching out to his in an act of comfort.

Your eyes burned through their hands but you nodded nonetheless.

"After I say this I don't want to hear a word from any of you. Not a single one of pity or comfort or any of that." they hesitantly agreed, Hawks pulling Dabi back on the couch.

You began nervous laughing ,fighting the new wave of tears as you opened your mouth to speak.

"So. Haha...fuck...I'm in love with you guys. Fucking hilarious right" your forced laughter burned their ears, making them cringe.

"It was a really great time for a long while wasn't it?" you joked, clapping your hands together and squinting your eyes. You have no idea who you'll be without them, but you'll have to find out.

Two pairs of arms tackled you, almost making you fall to the floor, your feet losing balance as they held you up. You want to fight, yet you know you can't win, so your body settles for shutting down, you're ears buzzing and doing their best to cancel out any words they're about to let out.

"You're the dumbest bitch I know" Dabi mumbled into your hair, pulling you into his chest as Keigo's hands stayed on your hips. "You're such an idiot" Dabi lets out again, soothingly petting your back in an effort to calm you down.

You were a mess, mumbling confused nonsense, almost offended until Hawks reached for your chin, turning your head to him and smashing his lips against yours.

"It was always the three of us wasn't it doll?" Dabi questioned, pushing Keigo's face away and kissing you deeply.

Hawks tried to act annoyed for a second, fluffing his feathers and puffing up his cheeks before a smile fought onto his lips.

Your brain was running laps against your skull, everything feeling dizzy as you gripped at the hem of their shirts.

Dabi finally pulled away, his mouth hanging open as he caught his breath.

You thought about this possibility every passing second of your days, a small part of you hoping for something you deemed irrational. Yet it made sense, their hot breaths against your neck and airy laughs against your skin sending goosebumps all over to your tippy toes.

"Be ours, songbird" you only managed to nod, hiding your face in your hands as now happy tears welled up.

Two hot mouths kissed your knuckles, moving your fingers aways and pecking both of your cheeks and eyelids. You open your eyes, blinking the tears away.

A pair of red wings wrapped around all three of you, squeezing and flapping excitedly. They talked about this, dreamed about this, hell they won't go to the extent that they fantasized about you, and they are so mad that you had to go through this before they gathered the balls to do something about it.

You watched the two kiss sweetly, squishing you between them. A quiet moan leaves your lips when you see Dabi reaching a hand around Keigo's neck, his large palm plastered over his throat, his fingertips lightly pressing down when Hawks tried to pull away.

Your body shivered, your arms lending up to tug at the hero's hair, feasting on the small pants that left his lips when you latched onto his neck. He doesn't know whose lips he would rather chase as both of you move away.

Dabi fights against the wings, glaring at Keigo to let both of you go.

When he reluctantly complies, Dabi is quick to pick you up and drape you over his shoulder, smacking your ass and chuckling when he hears your scream. It certainly lightens the mood.

Hawks follows behind the two of you, skipping steps and closing the door behind Dabi when he enters the bedroom. He's like an overgrown puppy, excitedly waiting for a treat.

Your back hits the cushion, the villain's shirt being stripped off him by Keigo's rushing hands.

You're already rubbing your thighs together, mouth-watering as you catch a glimpse of his abs.

You don't have that much time to enjoy the view, since his hands are on you in seconds, gripping at the hem of your sweater. You sit up, raising your arms to help him out, your shirt following suit and flying to the floor carelessly. The blonde kneels on the bed, joining Dabi.

Heated hands cup your breasts kneading at the flesh while his mouth latches onto your nipple.

Hawks scoffs at his greedy boyfriend, lowering himself to your neck, mouthing at the skin as your body jolts after a particularly rough bite to your flesh. Keigo is definitely the gentle one, kissing your skin and humming softly while he takes his sweet time with you.

"He's going too fast isn't he little birdie?"

You're not sure if you can answer it...it's too much of both fast and slow, your nerves getting the best of you as he waits for your response .

Hawks gets it, he does...but he still wants to give an option of slowing down, tangling his fingers in his boyfriends hair and pulling him away only slightly.

Dabi's pierced tongue lolls out, giving a teasing flick at your hardening nub, followed by more as he swirls it around, grinning and looking up at you. The contrast of the hot tip of his tongue and the metal sending your brain into an overdrive.

He's still held back by Keigo, but he doesn't fight the pull, instead he finds himself unbearably hard from being bossed around like this.

You pull him back by the nape of his neck, Hawks' grip loosening so that you can stuff his mouth full of your plump flesh.

That is enough of an answer to him.

Keigo's fingers trail your stomach, ghosting over your belly before going to the buttons of your pants. He waits for a few moments, leaning his forehead against yours, pecking your lips before moving in between your legs.

Once you lightly nod, he unbuttons them with ease, moving down to pull them off your legs.

You look down at Dabi, eyeing the numerous hickeys on your tits. He looks up, darting his tongue out and licking over the bruised marks, smirking when you swallow over the lump in your throat. Your skin there is now mostly purple and red, some patches even grazed with small specks of blood threatening to seep out.

You hear a ruffle of feathers, a blush plastered across Keigo's cheeks as he inches his hand closer to your panties. He can see how wet you are, the material sopping up your arousal. His touch is gentle but heavenly good, his fingers gliding between your clothed folds.

Keigo's free hand grips the bulge in his pants, trying to ease some of the pressure by pressing on it.

Dabi moves to sit behind you, spreading his legs for your tiny form and pulling you against his chest. He had his fill for now and he wants to watch the show. He knows Hawks looks pretty with his mouth full.

He lifts you up so that the hero can slip the panties off, sitting you back down and spreading your legs once the layer isn't in the way anymore.

Cold air hits your exposed heat, your pussy clenching around nothing. You would be ashamed if you didn't hear the low growl coming from Hawks as he settled his face between your thighs. You smell fucking delicious, blood rushing to his ears as he takes a look at your sex.

His wings tighten against his back before spreading  out when he takes the first lick. You lean all of your weight onto Dabi when Keigo's hands dig into the back of your thighs, opening them out as he starts lapping at your cunny.

Dabi's breath hits your ear, a shudder rumbling through his chest when your pliant body humps against the blonde's tongue. His large hands snake up to play with your breasts, kneading the tortured nub between his fingers as he ghosts over the marks he left on you.

Turning your head to him, you pull him in a kiss, moaning when Keigo circles two digits over your sex.

You impatiently wiggle your hips to push them in, combing your fingers into his hair to will him on.

Dabi's arm is now securely wrapped around your belly, holding you tight while he explores your mouth, his piercing clicking against your teeth.

You taste like everything he needs and more, his bulge throbbing in his sweats and against your body, impatient to finally have you.

"Hawks." his voice is stern but begging, urging his boyfriend to stretch you out already.

You're already so wet, and the two digits slip in and out with ease, your juices gushing in Keigo's palm all while his tongue doesn't stop swirling at your clit.

Dabi impatiently slips his cock out of his sweats, raising you up to push against Kei's fingers.

Hawks scolds him, but pulls out nonetheless, guiding Dabi's length over your slit, silking him up in his own spit. You mewl when he prodes at your entrance, biting your lip as you wait for the stretch.

It burns, but you feel so heavenly full, His large cock pushing to the hilt in one slow thrust, His tip fitting snuggly against your cervix.

Dabi's breathing is ragged and heavy on your shoulder, his eyes shut tight as he savors the warmth of your cunt.

"Fuck Keigo, you have no idea what you're missing out on."

You look down at the blonde, his tongue darting out to lick along Dabi's base, going between his cock and your pussy, mouthing at where the two of you connect.

Hawks is somewhat keeping his cool but his cock humps against the bed, his whole body swaying as if he's dragging his dick along your skin.

Dabi slowly ruts into you, deep and torturous. Your eyes widen when you feel a finger try to push in, the villains' movement coming to a stop as he tries to comfort you. Tears start pricking in your eyes, your legs trying desperately to close as you urge them to stay open. You want it, you truly fucking do, but when you feel another try to slip past your tight walls you're not sure if you're gonna stay conscious. There's already no place left just from Dabi alone and shit, you feel like screaming.

"Please baby, I promise it'll feel better soon, can you be a good girl for us hmmm?I believe in you..." Keigo's voice rings in your ears, your half-lidded eyes looking at your stretched pussy, watching the fingers pump knuckles deep in and and out, dragging between Dabi's cock and your walls.

You're so fucking wet and covered in slick, your folds glossy in your essence, pooling around Dabi's shaft.

A warm hand rests on your belly, easing your muscles, and relaxing you. There's a third finger pushing against the first two, the stretch surprisingly not as painful as the previous.

Keigo leans over you, kissing away the tears that ran down your cheeks, massaging the ravenette's arousal with the pads of his fingers.

"We're so so proud of you dove...Thank you so much" your chest swells with pride, a wide smile adorning your face. You do feel like you're being tricked with these comments but it doesn't matter, they seem to work.

The blonde pulls the other man in a kiss, slipping his fingers out of your core as he aligns his head with your cunt.

Both of them move to each side of your face, placing their lips at the corners of your mouth. You gulp, filling your lungs and holding your breath.

Your hands fist Keigo's shirt, pulling and almost ripping the poor thing apart when he prods the tight rim. Fuck it's so hard to breathe, air practically knocked out of you, your shaky hands wrapping around Hawks.

Inch by inch, he bottoms out, groaning at the tightness around his dick.

Minutes pass by, your boyfriends lavishing and worshiping your skin with kisses and gentle touches, loving every part of you they could reach.

The hero's wings wrap protectively around both of you when he starts moving, his head pressed against your shoulder.

Dabi seems to pick up the pace too, thrusting in as soon as Keigo almost pulls out. The rhythm isn't rushed at first, both of them moaning with each throb of your walls around their lengths.

They're taking their sweet time, angling their hips experimentally, noting the way your body shakes at each perfect plow into your cunt.

It's too good and too much, the knot in your tummy already threatening to snap loose. And the boys are on the verge of their highs too, gradually becoming more and more greedy, not pulling out almost at all, pounding and rutting against your cervix.

Dabi's grip on you tightens, trying to keep your body in place as he and Hawks rock into your pussy. Keigo moves from the crook of your neck, raising his hand to get a hold of the villain's jaw, smashing their lips together .

You're squished in between them as they moan into each other's mouth groaning when they feel you squeezing around them.

They're gonna cream you so good, pump their seed into your hole and make you so so full...you'll never settle for anything less after them and they fucking know it.

Your eyes swell with tears as you feel the knot finally snapping loose, you don't want it to end, you don't want them to ever move away from you but your body works against you, bringing you to the most powerful orgasm you ever felt, surging through your muscles and making them flex and clench.

Both of them look at eachother, eyes wide and blown with lust as they cum at the same time, hot seed coating your walls and leaking down Dabi's shaft.

They're panting, their foreheads touching as they caress your body all over.

"I love you..." Hawks says breathlessly, his eyes closed and his wings folding against his back, giving you all room to move and breathe.

He slips out, causing the rest of their cum to seep out. Dabi scoffs at the mess smeared over his length and thighs, slowly handling your body and moving you off his lap.

Dabi picks you up and Hawks chuckles. "You like carrying them huh?"

It earns him a glare, placing you in the heroes arms and making his way to the bathroom.

"I.Have.My.Own.Cum...Dripping down my ass" he hisses out making Keigo wheeze, almost tumbling over and dropping you.

You can't help but smile, nuzzling your head into your winged boyfriend's shoulder.

Everything clicked in place finally, your eyes closing in comfort as you let them take care of everything...take care of you.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

been a hot minute since I wrote something a bit longer but here we r.

Please leave a comment and reblog cause I'm a whore for feedback, tnx💕

requests:closed

commissions:open

Ko-Fi | Patreon

[earlgreydream]

force.

| kylo ren x reader | smut |

Kylo helps you seize the power of the force, tipping the balance in favor of the dark side

cw: force-violence, mentions of death (star wars), inappropriate use of the force

“Breathe, Y/N.”

The command grounded you. You felt it, the block inside of you shattering. Everything inside of you reached out, the invisible hand grabbing hold, finding stability in The Force.

Power filled you as you inhaled, flooding like a wave. Your eyes opened, revealing a world of slick black and red. You hovered above the ground, above your prince.

You harnessed The Force, soaking it up and feeling the power surge through your veins. It became your center, your source of life, and the absolute balance. 

There was no longer a wall that kept you from the power, and you were free from the bonds of your mind that held you back. The bonds that had been put into place to keep you from The Force.

The Force was overwhelming. The raw power made your body hum and throb, pulsing deep inside of your soul and pouring out of you. 

And there was Kylo, his dark eyes glittering with a savage hunger, a sick satisfaction. He gazed up at you in all of your glory. The prince was awestruck, his prodigé finally reaching full potential.

The two of you had spent months trying to break the block in your mind. Your screams had echoed off of the walls of the Star Destroyer, white-hot pain searing every corner of your mind as Kylo forced himself in, trying to break through. 

“You’re still holding on! Let go!” 

It had been like you were burning from the inside out. His screams mixed with your own, echoing in your head, through the entire ship, until there was sudden silence. The heat turned to ice when you collapsed on the cold ground, relief washing over you as Kylo let go of your mind. 

Kylo tortured you daily, trying to help you connect with your power. It tortured him as much as it did you, and after months he struggled. Whenever you’d collapse, he heaved out apologies. The Supreme Leader would drag you into him, begging you to open your eyes and let him know you were okay. He always feared that one time you wouldn’t survive it, that his forceful efforts would finally kill you. Even with the risk, you begged him to do it anyway. You wanted the power, you needed it. 

Now, it had worked. 

Your sick, deranged laughter bounced off of the glass, fueled by the euphoric high that spun in your mind. You felt the balance shift, and Kylo felt it too. Everything tipped into darkness, falling.

“You did it.”

“I did it,” you repeated after Kylo. 

You slowly sank to the floor, bare feet connecting with cool, black marble. The heartbeat of the universe was under your feet, and you finally stopped tumbling through nothingness. 

Kylo felt everything shift, your power pouring into the dark side. This was what you wanted, what you worked for, what you almost died for. 

“Supreme Leader.” 

“Empress.”

A grin spread across your face, hearing him call you that. The Knights of Ren all dropped to one knee, bowing to you. You were no longer his prodigé, but his equal. With training, it was likely you would surpass even his own ability. 

You felt it now, the connection. You and Kylo were one. His heartbeat was yours, thrumming in your chest to the same rhythm. 

Your black robes soundlessly brushed the floor as you followed Kylo to the throne room. General Hux stood in your way, as usual.

“Y/N-”

“Empress!” Kylo snapped, correcting him. Ginger eyebrows shot up, and he barked out a laugh of disbelief. 

“Come on, you didn’t manage to open up your broken doll!” He snorted. 

Less than a millisecond passed before Hux’s body cracked against the other end of the hallway. Your fingers squeezed, choking him from meters away. Kylo made no move to stop you, or save his general from your new abilities. 

He choked and struggled against your invisible grip on his throat, sick pleasure twisting in you as you watched the light bleed from his eyes. His fear only fueled you, his terror buzzing like electricity up your spine. 

Just before the loss of oxygen was fatal, you dropped him, releasing your hold. Hux wheezed and gasped, fighting for his life in a squirming pile on the floor. 

“Disrespect me again, General Hux, and I won’t be so gentle,” you warned, your voice dripping with sadistic amusement. His green eyes were wide, and he looked to Kylo for protection, who only smirked at your warning. 

The Knights’ steps echoed after you like thunder, three going to either side of the throne as you took your place beside Kylo, instead of kneeling on the floor beneath him. The First Order was at your fingertips, an army at your command. And soon, the who galaxy. 

Everyone felt it, the shift in The Force. The Jedi filled with dread, feeling your power pull the galaxy like a magnet. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Kylo’s voice echoed Anakin’s. 

“Come with me.”

You obeyed, following Kylo through the dark hallways to his chambers. The door slid shut behind you, securing the two of you in the huge, dark room. Stars glittered outside the wall of glass, planets far-off in the distance. Everything was black and luxurious, all but the red First Order symbol on the back of the door. 

Your black robes slipped from your body, discarded with Kylo’s. He was huge in every respect, towering over you and filling the room with his presence. Before, you had felt small, and powerless under him, but it was different now. It didn’t feel the same, not anymore. He dominated you physically, but your mind and power were just as sharp as his. 

“Please,” you didn’t need to elaborate. Kylo nodded, and you pushed him down against the black silk sheets. He moved easily, his large hands sliding up your waist and steadying you as you straddled his hips. 

“Let me please you,” you whispered, your hot breath stirring Kylo’s dark locks, your lips ghosting his cheekbone. He nodded, and Kylo’s black eyes widened in surprise as his hands were pinned above his head. He tugged at his wrists fruitlessly, unable to move, even when he tried. 

“Y/N?” His deep voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Just lay there and take it, Supreme Leader. Give yourself to me, let go,” you breathed. 

Your lips lightly brushed against his, and he leaned up to really kiss you. It was needy and desperate, his walls crumbling as he submitted to you. Your praises were soft, soothing his desperation to touch you, to flip you over and pound into you like he was so accustomed to doing. 

Your tongue slid along his full lips before gliding against his own, deepening the kiss. You swallowed Kylo’s low whine as your force wrapped around him and began to stroke his cock like an invisible hand. He fought against the restraints, wanting to take control and feel you actually touch him. 

Choked whimpers escaped him as your fingers moved, making the pressure tease him. You smiled, brushing his curls away from his forehead. Your nails lightly dragged down his broad chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake. 

“What is it, love?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head to the side and leaning forward. 

“You’re being a fucking tease,” he snarled. 

Kylo thrashed on the bed, but you couldn’t focus any more strength on restraining him. Maybe with more practice, but you were unsure if Kylo would help after your misuse of power. 

“Oh, Kylo, what would your knights think of you if they saw you like this? The First Order? Their Supreme Leader weak for me.” 

He growled out a threat, cut off sharply with a mewl when your tongue lapped at the head of his cock, making his hips twitch. Your nails dragged over this thighs, moving between his legs to replace The Force with your own touch. Your movements became more focused as you tried to drag him toward an orgasm, finding your efforts quickly successful. 

Kylo came in thick ribbons with a yell, his curls fanning out around him as his head fell back, his hips thrusting up into your hand. You sat on his thighs, pinning him down as you continued to tease him, not letting up. 

“Y/N! Fuck, don’t!” 

“I will fucking tear you apart when you let me go-” he threatened, crying out as you overstimulated him. You had the Supreme Leader whimpering at your little touches.

You were drunk on the power you asserted, seeing him falling apart and begging you to let him go, until his dark eyes were wet and his voice was nothing more than broken whines. 

You were about to sink yourself down on him, using him to get yourself off, when your attention faltered for an instant at the touch to your throbbing sex. Kylo seized the opportunity, tearing free of your hold. 

A frightened scream escaped you as your body was thrown against the mattress, your wrists trapped in First Order binder handcuffs. Your front was pressed against cool sheets, Kylo not bothering to use his power to restrain you, wanting all of it to go into your torture. 

“I hope you enjoyed that, because it was the last time you ever overpower me,” Kylo seethed, biting down into the smooth skin of your shoulder, ripping a yelp from you. 

“Kylo, I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack, but it was too late. 

Kylo gripped your grips and jerked you onto your knees, your face still pressed against the mattress. You squealed as he buried himself inside of your slick cunt in one violent thrust. He stretched you out, forcing your body to accommodate him, not bothering to give you time to adjust. 

His grip was painfully tight on your hips as he slammed into you, fucking you aggressively. The pent-up rage from the way you’d toyed with him came pouring out in the way he tore you up. Painful pleasure blinded you, your body screaming from the stimulation. The invisible touch was stroking your clit and swirling around your nipples, as well as squeezing your throat, reminding you further who was in charge now. 

You writhed beneath Kylo as he used you, going as rough and as hard as he could until you collapsed, limp and weak beneath him. Kylo showed you no mercy, fucking you past three orgasms, until your throat was raw from screaming. Exhaustion got to you before Kylo finished, and you wished you were numb by the time he finally unlocked your wrists and pulled out of your raw sex. You shuddered at every slight brush against your skin, the overstimulation sparking pain through your nerves.

He flipped you onto your back, his massive hand gripping your jaw and making you look him in the eye. 

“I am your Supreme Leader, and you submit to me!” 

“Yes, Kylo,” your breathed weakly, accepting the kiss you were given as solace. 

[mercy-burning]

The 13th Hour

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer conduct a 12-hour sexual experiment Category: SMUT (this isn’t as hardcore as it could have been, but it’s still explicit, so 18+ only) Warnings: Some language, Sex (edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, female receiving oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare) Word Count: 3.8k

Full Request: “...Okay... Spencer running a little experiment on you, seeing how many times he can edge you... and then how many times he can make you cum, being all clinical and scientific about it, I just can’t get the idea out of my head! Congrats on 1k🥰🥰🥰” — @bluesunrise02

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I’ve read something similar to this before, but I can’t for the life of me remember whose post it was, so if any of you remember, or know of another concept like this, please let me know! I hope this isn’t too similar, I did try to make it a little different than what I remember from the other fic. I hope you enjoy it! Also, DISCLAIMER! I’m... not really sure if it’s realistic for this to happen in 12 hours, so excuse me if that’s a little out there. I hope it’s okay!

***

HOUR 1

It was something the two of you had talked about before, but with both your crazy schedules, it was hard to find the time. But once there was a weekend where you and Spencer realized you both had off, there was no question about it. This was your time.

There was a notebook in his hands as he examined your body, laid out perfectly for him to do whatever he wanted. Though, seeing him writing things down now seemed strange considering he wasn't actually doing anything.

"What could you possibly be taking note of right now?" you questioned, verbalizing your minor concern.

He just looked up from his work and smirked at you, only for a few seconds before he went back, jotting something else down.

To experiment on your own, you closed your legs and rubbed your thighs together, hoping he'd get the signal.

The second he put his hands on your knees to spread your legs open again, you almost broke down right there. Because you finally realized why he was talking forever to get started.

He was making you wait for it. Getting you excited and antsy.

"Keep 'em open for me, sweet girl," he said softly as he ran the tip of his pencil over your bare thighs. The sensation admittedly made you clench around nothing, and he smiled, returning to write something down.

But then he was done teasing. He set the notebook and pencil down and sat beside you, making sure you looked him in the eyes before he spoke. "Are you sure you still want to go through with this? You know whenever you feel like it, you just say the safeword and we'll stop."

You smiled up at him with a slight nod and reached out to grab his hand. "I'm ready when you are, Doc."

He squeezed your hand and leaned down to kiss you sweetly. Though, the sweetness didn't last. After you started to get squirmy, his hands gently roaming your bare body as he kissed you for about a half hour—Yes, a half hour—he relented, trailing his kisses down to the insides of your thighs. By the time he actually truly touched you, you were already a whimpering mess.

If that was any indication as to how the rest of the day would go, you were in trouble. Good trouble, sure, but trouble nonetheless.

He took it easy, gently swiping his tongue out to tease your clit as his middle finger slowly—and torturously so—entered in and out of you. Whenever he could tell that you were getting closer to orgasm, he pulled back, pressing gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs again and then returning to his work sometime later.

This was a cycle that kept repeating until about another half hour had passed, and Spencer retreated to take more notes.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, brushing the hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, a little frustrated at not being able to get off, but blissed out nonetheless at all the build-up. "Mhm...

HOUR 5

By now he'd brought out the weakest vibrator you had, keeping it on a low setting as he alternated between pressing it to your clit and pumping it in and out of you. In between hours, you'd been drinking water and eaten a few decent snacks to keep yourself hydrated and fed.

You were nearing the end of the first half of the day, and after this next hour you'd be able to stop for an hour to eat lunch and take a break.

But you couldn't focus on that right now.

No, right now you were too busy gasping and moaning out every time Spencer's tongue flicked and swirled over your clit as his fingers worked the vibrator in and out of your body.

The pressure was building and building, and like it had become second nature at this point, you tapped his head to let him know you were on the brink. So he pulled away completely, leaving you whimpering and sweating.

He turned the vibrator off and came to sit next to you rather than in front of you. His hand grazed your cheek as he looked down at you, his gentle and caring nature instantly calming you down.

"Keep going?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You kissed it and nodded, knowing you could hold out for another forty minutes or so. "I can do it."

"I know you can, sweet girl. Just a little longer, and then we can take a break."

He kissed you sweetly again before returning to his spot in front of you, and the sound of the vibrator turning on immediately set your insides aflame.

This time, he pressed it to your clit, and you jumped at the sensation. And as if that wasn't enough, he leaned forward and added his tongue to the mix, both of them completely overtaking your senses and sending you into a tailspin.

It didn't take very long for you to need to tap his head again, and he chuckled as he pulled away, leaning into your thigh. "So soon already, baby?" he mused.

"I can take it, I just... I need... more frequent breaks," you breathed, trying to look up at him and failing to keep your head up.

"Oh, that's gonna make the second half of this little experiment so much fun," he mused again, and then dove head-first back into said experiment.

HOUR 6

You were sitting at the kitchen table, and your legs felt like they might fall off. When you told Spencer this, he laughed and reassured you that you'd be fine, but let you know kindly that if you didn't want to go through with the rest of this and stop for the day, that was more than okay, too.

He made you toast and cereal for lunch, despite his protests to get you to eat something a bit more sustainable. But you insisted that you had to have Lucky Charms and toast, and really, who was he to say no to you?

It didn't take long for you to eat, so the both of you spent the rest of your hour-long break cuddled on the couch. You were wrapped in a soft new robe he'd just bought you for an anniversary present, snuggled into his side as he rubbed your head, his fingers brushing through your hair and almost making you fall asleep. And you probably would have, too, if not for the fact that you knew what was coming next.

Despite the slight exhaustion that was starting to wash over you, it kept you awake and alive with electricity just thinking about what the next few hours would entail.

HOUR 8

You'd ended up dozing off a little longer than expected, no doubt throwing off your experiment a little bit, but once you woke up on the couch to find Spencer taking more notes in his book, the feeling you had (relaxed and refreshed and ready to go again) let you know it was worth it.

"Can I see what you're writing?" you mumbled, reaching out to pull him closer to you.

"You can tomorrow. I want you to be as unbiased as possible, so you're gonna have to wait."

You kissed his neck and nuzzled into it, already feeling replenished and ready for phase 2. "Whatever you say, Doctor," you hummed into his skin.

About 20 minutes of making out on the couch, some water, and a bathroom break later, you found yourself perched on the bed again, this time leaning against the headboard and toying the hem of your robe, which you'd left on and open, per your boyfriend's request.

He watched you intently as your hands started to roam, slightly pushing the silk aside to expose your breasts and then gently kneading them. Under his intense staring you felt yourself grow wet again already, and it was... well, intense, for lack of a better word.

After being edged for five hours straight, even with a decent break in between, everything that was happening seemed to be amplified, every sense heightened so that with every touch and even every look, it likely wouldn't take long for you to start falling apart again.

And you couldn't wait.

Rather than tell Spencer this, you showed him, spreading your legs wide and pouting, running your hands down your front and then resting your fingers promptly at the crease of your thighs.

"Eager already?" he laughed, writing something down.

"Mhm," you whined in earnest, though you'd have been lying if you said you didn't do it to catch his attention, too.

Whether that's what did it or not, you were excited to see that he set the notebook down and was making his way to nestle between your legs once more. As he kissed the insides of your right thigh you reached out to run your fingers through his hair.

"You remember your safeword if anything gets to be too much?" he asked, pausing his trail of kisses to look you in the eye.

You nodded, repeating the word, "Raven." The day you walked into the BAU for the first time, the first time you met, he was reading The Raven, and the two of you had a decent discussion about it for hours once you'd had some free time.

And even that was before the both of you had realized just how compatible you two were. You shared a lot of the same interests, and where you didn't know about something, he'd teach you, and vice versa.

That philosophy also happened to extend into your sex lives.

You didn't even really know you were into edging and overstimulation until one night Spencer would not stop teasing you, bringing you to the edge just to pull back until you were begging for him to finish the job.

Now look at where you were.

His finger teasing your pussy and gathering the slickness that had unsurprisingly already started to form there brought you out of your fond daydream. You looked down at him, sighing out at the way he looked in that moment and the way he made you feel. And when his middle and ring fingers slowly pushed into you, his mouth dropping open and forming a small 'o' as he worked so curiously, you start to realize just how lucky you'd gotten.

HOUR 10

"Fuck, baby, please!"

Spencer came to a halt then, keeping himself buried deep inside of you as you gasped out for air.

"You wanna cum again, sweet girl?" he cooed, reaching down to cup your cheek.

You looked up at him and nodded, small whines escaping that closely resembled Mhm.

You'd already cum twice per hour since you'd started phase 2 of this experiment, but with only a few left to go, you pushed through the fatigue and focused on everything else. At first you tried to delay yourself again, thinking that maybe the payoff would be better and the overstimulation wouldn't be as bad, but you were sorely mistaken. After the third time you came, it was clear that there wouldn't be anything you could do unless you stopped it altogether, and you didn't want to. You knew your limits, and if there ever did come a time where you knew it was too much, you knew exactly how to stop it.

It also helped that Spencer was n absolute angel about everything. He always asked if you needed any water, if you were okay to keep going, if you wanted him to slow down or let you take a little break.

You had nothing to worry about.

He started drilling into you again, close to his first orgasm of the day, and you were more than willing to embrace it after having nothing but his hands, mouth, and a vibrator the whole time. Which, of course, was still a damn-near magical experience, but nothing ever compared to the way it felt when he straight-up fucked you. Especially now considering you were practically higher than you'd ever been.

When he did cum inside you for the first time that day, you yelled out, moaning obscenely at how... well, just good it felt. You couldn't think of any other words to describe it, especially while you were on the brink of coming undone yourself. Everything was just so high and sharp and good that you couldn't form proper words.

But you didn't need them.

You came shortly after he did, and Spencer still continued to slowly thrust into you. As his movements slowed, he tilted your head up to look at him, and spoke. "I think you can give me one more before our hour is up, yeah? Just one more, baby?"

"Uh... Uh huh," you breathed, giving him the best smile you could.

When he leaned forward to kiss you, his angle deepened, and you gasped out against his lips. He stayed there, taking sharp, staccato thrusts forward that kept his cum planted deep inside you and quickly started to give you another orgasm.

"You got it, baby, you got it. Let go for me, it's okay..."

His words sent you over the edge, your body finally shuddering with the effects of your sixth orgasm of the day. You clung to his neck, squeezing him until you were sure he couldn't breathe, but nonetheless, he kept at it, encouraging you with sweet words and running his hands gently through your hair.

When you were practically writhing around him in uncomfortable pleasure, he pulled out of you.

You breathed out a shaky sigh of relief against his shoulder, taking in all the sweet whispers he sent in your ear. Eventually your breathing slowed, and together you were both harmonious in slow, gentle breathing. You could have fallen asleep right there.

"I'm gonna pull back to look at you, sweet girl, is that okay?" he asked.

"Uh huh," you offered quietly, loosening your grip on him and allowing him to finally meet your eye again.

His gaze was soft, loving, everything that kept you going.

"Let's take a little break before we finish the rest of this, okay?"

HOUR 12

This was it. This was the homestretch.

After a half-hour break during which Spencer cleaned you up a bit, made sure you were rested and hydrated, and set up for this last hour and a half, he had you on your stomach. Your ass was up in the air, your cheek resting on one pillow while another laid under you for support. It was comfortable, and you knew that it was the best way to end off the experiment.

"You ready for me, pretty girl?" You heard Spencer's voice from behind you, and it made you smile.

"Ready whenever you are, baby," you offered back clearly. You were more than ready for this.

You could practically hear his smile when he said, "That's my girl." His hands ran over your bare ass, and to show that you were in good spirits, you wiggled a little, causing him to laugh as he brought his hands down to your pussy.

The contact made you clench, and a small moan left your lips as he ran his fingers through your wetness.

"I love how eager you are, sweet girl," he mused, continuing his slow back and forth motions from your clit to your opening. And you couldn't help it. You begged. You didn't even really know what in particular you were begging for, just that it was setting your soul on fire not being touched to the fullest extent.

"Please," you cried out, relishing in the way his fingers did touch you, and begging for more.

Thankfully he seemed to be merciful, not wasting any time asking questions and simply getting to work. Two of his fingers slid easily into you, and you moaned out at the sensation. Between that and the small praises you could hear falling from his lips, truthfully you could have fallen asleep. Everything was so high-inducing that it felt like you were floating.

But you didn't fall asleep. You made sure to stay fully aware of what was happening, even if it did feel like time and space were coming in and out of focus sometimes. Besides, that fuzzy feeling was how you'd come to know you were close to orgasm.

It rocked through you like water crashing onto the shore, each new wave of pleasure stronger than the next until it subsided altogether, leaving you with a clean slate in the sand. You were moaning out incoherently into the pillow as you tried to catch your breath, but then smaller, yet still prominent waves met your shore and left you humming as his hips stayed pressed into your ass.

You were coherent enough then to realize that he was coming inside you, and the fuzziness of your surroundings cleared enough for you to hear him calling out your name in sweet, blissed-out whispers. Each syllable was like a prayer, desperate and unwavering as your body relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding inside of you.

But you almost didn't even hear the last part.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

Surprisingly to you, you found yourself unable to respond—the words were forming in your head, but your body and your mouth simply refused to do anything to communicate how you were feeling.

What did come out was, "How... much... time?"

By now Spencer had pulled out and away from you, and was now perched on the bed, beside you while his hand stroked the hair from your face. "Time's up now, sweet girl. You did so well."

HOUR 13

Time, as it turns out, had not been up.

In actuality, the last hour only ended up being fifteen minutes, and upon seeing how exhausted and almost incoherent you were, Spencer decided to call it quits. Not to mention he had been tiring, himself. It gave him ample time to clean you up and get you into a nice, warm bath, though. As you waited for the water to run, he jotted some quick things down in the notebook and then tended to you the rest of the evening.

He washed you up, gave your shoulders and head a nice massage while doing so, and after about a half hour, dressed you in your favorite, comfiest pajamas. Your legs were so weak that he half-carried you to the bed, where you almost passed out on the spot. He'd crawled into bed with you immediately after throwing on a pair of boxers and a tee shirt, and took the time to rub your head, your arms, anywhere that comforted you.

You barely registered them because of how weak you felt, but he whispered praises against your temple, alternating between gentle words and even gentler kisses.

And now, you were well into the thirteenth hour of your experiment, sleeping soundly beside Spencer as he wrote a few more things down in the notebook.

THE NEXT MORNING

He wasn't there when you opened your eyes. It worried you at first, but you saw a note on his pillow that read: Left to grab breakfast. Be back soon. I love you. —S

You smiled lazily, stretching out and instantly feeling how sore your muscles were. Through a wince, you stretched out some more before spotting Spencer's notebook on his bedside table.

And... Well, he did say that you could look at it after the experiment was over, didn't he?

So you climbed over, grabbed the notebook, and flipped it open, your stomach fluttering with butterflies at the thought of what he might have written.

Sure enough, the more you read, the stronger the butterflies got. Your eyes skirted over page after page, detailing in bullet points the filthy things he did to you and how you reacted, every hour a highlight reel of all that he tried and even some of the things you'd said. Some of it you didn't really remember at first, but it slowly started to come back to you as you woke up more, the blush on your cheeks deepening immensely as you read on.

You got near the end of the experiment, and that's when you noticed an added 13th hour.

More than curious as to what that could entail, you read a few paragraphs in Spencer's messy handwriting that sent a shot of warmth straight to your heart.

Y/N has finally fallen asleep. This is the 13th hour we've spent together today since the experiment started, and truthfully I think it's my favorite one. I find that even the intense fire I felt burning through me all day could never compare to the warmth I'm feeling right now, as she sleeps beside me, blissfully unaware of what I'm writing while her breathing softly threatens to lull me to sleep. I can't think of a better feeling, to be surrounded by her presence. It's comforting and warm and beautiful, and that's not even the half of it.

No matter what remarkably devious things I do to her body in the name of sexual experiments, what matters most to me is that at the end of the day, Y/N feels just as comforted and warm and beautiful as she makes me feel. Which is why I think I'll bring her blueberry pancakes tomorrow morning— they're her favorite. And while I'm out, I want to pick up some of her favorite snacks, some flowers, and maybe a stuffed animal or two. And... maybe that's a little much...

But as long as she knows how much I adore her, nothing is ever too much.

Your throat was suddenly tight, and tears threatened to escape, every muscle in your body tense as they tried their hardest to prevent you from actually crying. Maybe the physical intensity of yesterday was to blame, but deep down you knew that Spencer's heartfelt words would always be more powerful than any physical toll on your body, heart, and soul.

You hadn't even registered that he'd come home, his voice snapping you out of your little trance.

"You weren't supposed to see that yet," he said softly with an amused laugh. When you looked up, his hands were holding a bouquet of pink carnations, your favorite.

And with the soft, loving look in his eye, a tear managed to fall down your cheek. "I love you," you whispered through a smile, feeling your body start to break down after holding in all the tears.

"I love you too, sweet girl," he replied, striding over to you in a few steps.

When he reached the edge of the bed, you sat up on your knees and grabbed his face with your hands, bringing his lips to meet yours as the flowers tickled your chest over the thin material of your shirt.

"You're going to smush the flowers," he mumbled against your lips, and you laughed, pulling away to take them from him.

"Thank you, they're beautiful," you said, tilting your head down to instinctively smell them.

Spencer smiled back at you, and the sight made your heart beat a little faster as he said, "Just like you."

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[saturnsstufff]

The Empress pt.IX

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, mentions of death.

(So, sorry this is so short)

   After talking with Phil you both decided it would be best to return to the party. Although you weren't looking forward to seeing the lingering looks and stares, you were looking forward to dancing with Techno. Now that you've had a moment to ease your senses, you were able to push away the others and focus on your lover.

   When Techno saw you walk in with Phil, his lips turned into a smile. He offered his arm back to you, of course you took it without hesitation. Phil was happy to see you two having fun together, a lot of the things techno did with you, was what Phil did with his wife. So seeing you two was almost a blast from the past.

   "Feeling better?" He asked softly. His arm rested on your forearm. Wanting to clarify that you were ok. You gave him a nod and smiled.

   "Much better." He gave a reassuring nod and turned to the crowd again. You noticed the lingering eyes had fallen back to you. As much as you wanted to say the two of you looked like a casual couple. Techno was dressed beautifully in his traditional military uniform, truly looking regal and official. Like Sarah, she was also in her traditional uniform as well. Although looking around, most of the attendees were in uniform. This is what Sarah must have meant when she said that most of her friends were within her ranks. Even as Sarah's Maid of Honor, you were dressed very nicely. Purples and reds adorned the dress. Techno's favorite colors. You didn't know it, but Techno had specifically requested that you were dressed as regal as possible. Since this was the first time the public, and court would see you, he wanted to make a lasting impression with you. He knew you weren't the most ladylike, but for what your manners lacked, your personality made up for. You were kind and always willing to correct yourself. He only hoped that the court would see this as well.

   After a while Techno and you had found a comfortable seat to eat a little late dinner. Of course the meal last long as the time came for the brides to have their dance with the fathers. On Sarah's behalf this meant a dance with Techno. You had no problem offering him up to her of course. You knew she had no intention of stealing Techno or anything of the sorts. when they made their way to the ball room floor, the two contrasted greatly. Technoblade was dressed in darks well Seraphina was in whites, It was beautiful to say the least, but then again most things within this palace was.

   Well Techno and Sarah danced, you felt little hands tug at the hem of your dress. Tommy. You looked down at the little boy. Like his brother's he was dressed just as nice. You couldn't help smiling wide, taking him into your arms. When you rested him on your knee he quickly became interested with the items on the table. Of course you didn't mind though. You even offered him the roll from your plate, knowing they were his favorite. When you looked up, you saw Philza give you a gentle nod, and a smile. Acknowledging Tommy was with you.

   Well you watched your lover dance with the bride, a middle-aged man had approached you and Tommy. He was dressed well, but not in uniform. He looked loosely bemused as he offered you a drink. You gave a shy smile but politely declined. "You don't drink?" He inquired. His eyebrow lifting in question. He didn't look kind, but he also didn't look mean.

   "Not particularly, I'm sorry" you said softly. Pulling Tommy closer to you subconsciously. You were unsure of the man as he took Technoblade's chair ever so casually.

   "Oh your alright, give it time. You'll take up drinking" he said too casually, leaning into the chair. You blinked a bit, taken back by his words.

   "I... I beg your pardon?" You asked, wanting to clarify what you herd. He looked at you and raised a semi bushy brow.

   "You'll take up drinking. As long as your with that man there" He pointed to Techno "I bet you'll become an alcoholic even." His eyebrow quirked as a devious smirk formed. His eyes were lingering Technoblade, who unbeknownst to you, had a not so happy look when seeing you and the man. "Or I bet you'll mysteriously go missing, or die" your eyes glanced about, now looking for a familiar face. The longer this man was with you, the more uncomfortable you grew with his presence.

"I.. I’m doubtful that will happen.. Technoblade is a kind man to me..." you said carefully, your eyes flickering to the man well you held Tommy close. Protective of him from the rather rude man In front of you.

   The mans eyes lingered to Tommy and back to you. "We'll see..." he dropped that conversation for a new one. "Where are my manners, my name is Leon Schmidt." He held his hand out for you. Adjusting Tommy you offered your hand and shook his. To your surprise your hand was stronger than his. His hands were not worn and worked with trade, but instead soft, and made for pens and books. With this small note you felt a slight surge of confidence.

   "Nice to meet you... I'm (y/n)-" he cut you off quickly.

   You felt a warm hand rest on your shoulder. The hardened tone of the person ran through. Technoblade. "Schmidt." You could see Leon's Adams apple bob slightly as techno addressed him. "I see you have met (y/n)" Techno's tone wasn't kind, rather harsh to be frank.

   "Oh I know who you are. Your very popular among us court members." He said taking his hand back, almost looking as if he wiped it. He took his drink in his hand and took the one he brought you. "As a sign of friendship and with the hopes the Emperor takes care of you. Lets drink to your health." He offered the drink again. You took it but you were hesitant. You didn't want to drink, but what would happen if you declined? He held his glass out for a toast. You glanced your glass to his and slowly toasted. You looked down to the glass and thought back. You didn't want to disappoint Techno, and have the court pressure him about you. The liquid was rolling with pearlescent Yellow's, orange's and red's. With a glance to Techno you carefully took a sip. Setting it aside after. Having no desire to drink more. You felt the liquid drop down your throat, a slow buildup of warmth filling your body.

Alcohol.

   "That I have... How long until this one ends up bored, or dead, Blood God?" You glanced up to Techno and saw his Jaw lock.

"For your information, Leon... I intend to marry (y/n)..." his hand held firm but kind on your shoulder. Acting almost like a protector of Tommy and you. Your face went red, your heart beating much faster. He Intended to marry you? Well Tommy played with the beads of your dress, your mind raced at the idea of you and him being a official couple. Would you have a wedding like this? Would he actually want that?

   "Marriage? With her?" The man chocked out a loud laugh. This left Techno seething. However, Techno's attention was drawn from Leon's boisterous laugh to you instead. You weren't acting normal. With your hand subconsciously your throat you loosely rubbed. Your breathing began to turn ragged and strained slowly. With a slight blue tinge to your lips Technoblade knew something was horribly wrong.

   "What did you put in her drink." At his his tone was nothing but sharp and demanding. Harshly taking your glass to smell it. With nothing sticking out to the hybrids senses, he set the glass down.

   Well Leon's laughs died down, he no longer found amusement at Techno's cruel tone. Techno took Tommy off your lap, taking your hand in his. The clammy feeling of your hands and your rapid heart rate was enough to tell him the problem.

   Your body was going into shock.

   When you came around the sun was already up. You were in your own bed well Tommy was curled up beside you, peacefully asleep with his teddy bear in arms. You let your head roll as your eyes scanned the room, falling to Technoblade in the end. His back was to you well he faced out the window, you could tell he was deep in thought. He was no longer in his formal attire. Instead he was in casual wear, his hair was in a messy bun, showing whatever he was doing demanded his full attention.

"Te..chno?.." your voice was ragged but he clearly herd it, turning to face you his eyes softened fast.

   "(y/n)..." he quickly walked over and sat beside you on the bed. His hand moved your hair back before he placed a soft kiss to your forehead, happy to see you awake once more. "How do you feel?" His eyes were worried, but gentle.

   "I... think ok?" You asked uncertain. Your body felt tired, but also well rested. You were looking up at him, your eyes dancing between his for how he felt.

   "Do you remember what happened?" His tone was soft and gentle. Rather if that was because of Tommy asleep by you, or because you had gave him a scare, you wouldn't know.

   "I remember... a man, Tommy, and you... then my throat felt weird..." he nodded slowly and cupped your cheek gently.

   "You had a Reaction to your drink... Did you know you are allergic to Blaze powder?..." you nodded slowly. When you lived within your village, your mother found out about the allergy when she gave you a strength potion. Well she intended it to be helpful, instead it was harmful. He tossed a few thoughts around within his head before nodding. "That drink you had with Leon yesterday had Blaze Powder... Your body went into shock love..."

   You thought back about last night and realized. the pearlescent. Then it hit you. The wedding. Your heart sank slowly, you still had wanted a dance with Techno before the night ended. "Wha... I... I'm sorry..." You said slowly, trying to sit up. He shook his head and rested his forehead on yours, easing you back down.

   "You have nothing to be sorry for... Were just reassured your ok..." you nodded, with a little lingering silence you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. He didn't hesitate to wrap his own arms around you. Keeping you close to his body.

   "We didn't even get to dance together..." your voice was soft and saddened, almost like a child that was scolded. You slowly buried your head into his neck for comfort

   "Is that what you wanted?..." you nodded slowly. Taking in his lingering cologne from the night before. He slowly pulled away and moved you. Scooping you up into his arm like you were a bride. You were unsure at first, but wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head resting on his chest. With a slow rocking motion he started to sway with you in his arms. Although you couldn't have a dance with him at the wedding, you actually preferred this. You felt safe and at ease within his arms. "You know I love you..." his voice was soft. Loving. He meant what he was saying.

   "I love you too Techno... With all of my heart..." as if those few words meant the world, techno shed a silent tear. You gave him a serious scare last night. He was glad you couldn't remember past your throat hurting either. He knew the things he said to Leon would have stuck with you a bit. Resting his head on yours, he swore from this day on, he would never let something like that happen again.

   It didn't take long for Sarah and Leon to come back around to the forge. Sarah came first of course. Techno had advised you keep easy on yourself for the day, so that's what you planned. Well you were at your work bench tending to the jewels of Phil's sword, she had wondered in. Mostly she was just worried about your health and whether you were ok. Curiously she inquired if your throat was doing better, and what had caused the reaction. The last she saw of you was when you were in techno's arms, being carried out well you struggled to breathe. Of course you reassured her that you were now fine and just taking the day easy. with a hesitant nod she parted from the forge, seeking her men out for a final training before the Honeymoon.

   When Leon came in that was a different story, unlike the night before he was quiet. His sharp features were now accompanied by a bruise on his cheek. You couldn't recall if he had that yesterday, so you quietly pushed the thought aside. With him in the room it was awkward, although he did try and strike a conversation.

   “Is your throat doing better?” You hummed, nodding. keeping to yourself to your bench, not wanting to be any closer to him then you had to be. You chewed your lip. your eyes glancing to his cheek. His eyes much have picked up on it because he had another remark to fallow. “You best watch yourself around that Blood God, girl.” You furrowed your brow at his words. You herd him mention that name last night when he was talking about Techno, but you paid it no mind.

   “Blood God?” you asked quietly, almost uncertain.

   “Yeah your Lover boy or whatever.” He said scornfully. Technoblade a ‘Blood God’? Whatever he was talking about didn't make sense. Leon must have knew because he have a rouged chuckle. “Ask him about that name. Ask him why his sword hangs heavy with Blood. Just wait. You think he’s all sunshine and shit now- But you wait girl, you wait until you piss him off, and he’s two steps away from snapping your neck-” his little rant didn't last long as he was cut off. Technoblade who towered at the door, stood tall and proud as his face was locked into disgust. His voice dripping with venom for the man.

   “I hope your not talking about me, Schmidt.” 

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[bestiesenpai]

Perfect Student - Geto Suguru

I love slimy Geto :) although i’m not sure how slimy he actually is here lol femme reader, 3k words

TW: manipulation, abuse of power(?), dubcon, biting(not a lot), spanking

You weren’t the best university student, you were willing to admit. A few classes skipped than deemed appropriate, a couple missed assignments you’d rather not think about again, and some test scores that were down right abysmal.

But you shouldn’t be failing your class completely! A string of low grades on your last few assignments was worrying you. You understood the course material just fine, yet your work was apparently not reflecting it. Making an appointment with your professor, you could only hope he’d shed some light onto the situation.

“Mr. Geto?” Knocking on his office door, you found it swung open with ease. It was late afternoon, no need for any lights to be on in his office as the large window to the side got plenty of light from the slowly setting sun.

“Ah, you’re here.” He smiled at you from behind his desk, his hair in that familiar half bun he sports. The sleeves of the button up he’d had on during class are pushed up past his elbows, revealing his taut forearms. “Take a seat.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the swanky brown leather armchair on the other side of the desk.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, stiffly sitting in the chair and avoiding his narrowed eyes looking you over. You weren’t usually so nervous, you talked up a bit in class if you knew the answer, but being here with the warmth of the sun heating half your face and your admittedly very attractive teacher staring at you, it made your heart thump harder.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Geto leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“Well sir, I’ve noticed my grades haven’t been the best recently on some of the work I’ve turned in?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question and it makes your cheeks burn. “A-and I understand the material for this lesson pretty well, so I- so I, uh…” Losing your train of thought, you glance at Geto’s unreadable expression.

“So you came to get a better grade? Let me pull up your grades on the computer and see.” Turning to the monitor sitting on the desk corner, Geto types away. With his focus not on you, you can finally breathe a little easier. “Oh (Y/N)...” Geto tsks and it makes you worry.

“What?” Wide eyed, you lean forward to try and see what he sees.

“I’m just looking at your past grades and you’ve got quite a bit of missing work.”

“Y-yes I know but-”

“But nothing.” He says it softly but it still manages to shut you up. “Care to explain why that happened?”

Truthfully, you had no reason other than laziness. You’d missed one, then it spiraled into two, three- you’d managed to catch up before it got too bad, though, or at least so you thought. You stayed silent, eyes tracing the wood grains in the desk.

“Hm, no answer. That’s a shame.” Clicking a few things, Geto ticked a brow upwards. “Looking at your recent work, I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.”

“What?” That makes your head snap up in fear. It was only the middle of the term, surely your grade wasn’t that far gone? “Mr. Geto, what-”

“Call me Suguru, please. It’s just us here, we aren’t in class.” He cuts you off with a raise of his hand and an easy smile.

“Suguru…” You say it slowly, worrying your lip briefly. “My grade can’t be that bad already that there’s nothing I can do.”

“Take a look for yourself.” Turning the monitor towards you, Suguru’s smile got bigger seeing your devastated face. Your grade was beyond horrible, the number on the top of the screen making your stomach churn.

“But I...I just checked it for myself not too long ago. How could it have changed like that?” Leaning back in your chair in shock, thoughts spiraled in your head. Lost in your own world, you didn’t pay any attention to your teacher.

He stood up slowly, brushing down the front of his shirt as he tucked in his chair. Shuffling a few things on his desk to the side, he smoothed his hand on the empty space he created as he rounded the corner, leaning against it as he stood in front of you.

“What can I do to fix my grade?” Looking up at him, Suguru nearly cooed at the pitiful look in your eyes.

“What’re you willing to do?” His voice is staggeringly low, a mere rumble in his chest and throat. He barely speaks them properly, they just tumble forth and into your lap. You take a pause, sizing up the way your teacher takes up so much space in front of you, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“What do you mean?” You know exactly what he means, you can see the slightest bulge forming in the front of his pants.

“I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.” Suguru chuckles, letting his hair out of it’s bun and draping it across his shoulders. Licking your lips nervously you stare at him, throat tightening the longer you look at the sunkissed beauty.

“Okay.” Whispering quietly, you shuffle your bag out of your lap, you begin to fiddle with your bottoms.

“Hold on, where’s the rush? We should savor this moment, hm?” Grabbing your hands, Suguru pulls you up to standing. Wrapping an arm around your waist he grabs your chin and tilts your face toward him.

He kisses you gently, getting a feel for your demeanor. The hand around your waist grips you tighter, his fingers digging in painfully and making you squirm closer to him to try and get away. Your hands clamp down onto his shoulders to steady yourself, a muffled whimper coming from you.

Suguru slips his tongue into your mouth with ease, slotting his mouth together with yours and overtaking your senses. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you’re surrounded by his presence and overwhelmed with the energy he has just below the surface.

“S-sugu-” Your voice breaks when he leaves the kiss and moves onto your neck, nipping at the column of your throat and behind your ear.

“Sugu? That’s cute.” He chuckles while tugging the collar of your shirt down. Kissing the new skin before him, Suguru wastes no time in biting down. A sharp cry leaves you at the sudden pain, hands flying to try and push him away. “Calm down.” It’s all the warning Suguru gives you and then he’s biting you again, higher up on your neck.

Suguru sucks harshly on your neck, his teeth digging into the flesh with no remorse. Tugging on his hair, you’re worried about the marks that’ll be left behind, the ones you’ll have to explain to your friends after this meeting with your teacher.

“Take this off.” Tugging at the bottom of your top, Suguru releases you from his hold. “That too.” He mumbles when you make no move to take your bra off as well.

“Sir…” Crossing your arms over your chest, embarrassment washes over you. It was fine when you were just kissing him, but now clothes were coming off and- and did you really want to do this? Taking a look back at the monitor however, you knew this was the only option. There wasn’t any other teacher for this subject, and if you backed out now there would only be more headaches later.

“No need to be shy, little one.” Suguru chuckles and pushes away from the desk. Putting his hands on your shoulders, he guides you to take his spot, pushing you to sit on the empty space he made. Curling his fingers around your wrist, Suguru is gentle as he holds both your arms away from you.

Craning your head away, you can’t stand to see the lustful look in his eyes as they roam over your topless body. Suguru bites his lip, letting out a low whistle as he lets go of one of your arms to cup your breast.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, eyes focused on the way your nipple pebbles under his thumb. Tugging on it, Suguru chuckles when you whimper and his eyes dart up to your face. “What a nice little noise.” Standing between your legs, Suguru puts your arm around his shoulders and leans in, kissing your neck on the other side while he plays with your breasts.

Twirling the ends of his hair with your fingers, the feeling of his fingers going over your nipples makes an ashamed heat settle between your legs. Unable to clench your thighs together to relieve the building pressure, you settle for squirming on his desk.

Pushing you back to lean on your hand, Suguru takes a nipple into his mouth. He flicks it a few times with his tongue before nibbling softly, scraping his teeth against the bud as his other hands makes work with the neglected breast.

“S-sugu, please-” Vocalizing what you wanted was near impossible, especially since you shouldn’t be wanting it in the first place. But the heat between your legs was killing you, and a few tugs to the ends of his hair wrapped between your fingers got him to stand up a little straighter.

“Getting antsy?” Suguru teases with a light pink flush on his cheeks. You nod, lip caught between your teeth as your eyes go down to his now prominent bulge.

“I want it.”

“Show me what you want.” He challenges immediately, a sick grin on his face. Nodding again, the hand on his shoulder drops down to run along his chest and down to it. As you work on unbuttoning his slacks, Suguru undoes a few buttons on his shirt, exposing smooth skin that’s slightly damp with sweat.

Pulling his hard cock out, it’s hot and heavy in your palm. Pumping it slowly, the veins that run up and down the length pulse beneath your fingertips, blood rushing straight to the head of his cock where it leaks precum straight onto the floor.

Suguru is pulling your bottoms and underwear down as you stroke his cock, his nails scraping against your skin from his eagerness to have you completely bare before him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him pocket your underwear, but you don’t bring it up. You know you won’t be getting it back anyway.

“Look at this pretty fucking pussy.” Spreading your legs wide, Suguru practically salivates at the sight of your glistening cunt. “What a shame my pretty little student was hiding this from me for so long! I should mark you down just for that!”

“Sorry.” Chuckling bashfully, you let his cock go as Suguru tugs you closer to him, your ass beginning to hang off the edge of the desk.

“You’ll make it up to me, right?” He laughs lightly as well, grabbing your legs and putting them around his waist. “Good girl.” He hums when you nod obediently, head clouded with lust and a desire to please him.

The tip of his cock presses into you with ease, the smear of his precum and your arousal making an easy entrance. Your arms wrap around his shoulders to keep you steady as he bottoms out, a shiver running up both of your spines at the feeling.

“Fuck-” Suguru barks suddenly, drawing his hips back. “You’re milking me already, I can barely pull out.” Snapping his hips forward again, Suguru delights in the wet slap that comes from it. Beginning to rock into you, he can see the fabric of his pants staining darker from your juices, a wet patch surely forming on his desk under you as well.

Planting a hand next to you, Suguru’s back curves against his shirt as he fucks you. He had wanted to take it slow, this was only the thing he’d been working towards since classes started, but the drag of his cock against your walls was demolishing that plan.

“Sugu!” You cried, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath fanning over him added to the heat washing over him, more sweat accumulating under his clothes and sticking to your face.

Hearing you moan and whine beneath him drove Suguru wild and he couldn’t help the way his other hand pulled up from your thigh and slapped back down, making you jump and tighten around him.

“My slutty little student- how naughty you are.” Slapping your thigh a few more times, Suguru pushes his hand between you and finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it in tight circles. Choked moans came from your lips and you squeezed him tighter.

“Sugu- sir- ah, fuck-” The wet slapping sound gets louder, your slick gushing out of you at this point and coating Suguru. Lifting your heavy head, you kiss him, teeth knocking together and accidentally biting his lip as you try to slide your tongue into his mouth.

Suguru leans forward to kiss you harder, nearly making you fall over from the weight. His finger moves faster on your clit, desperate to have you cum on his cock. His orgasm is coming faster than he would have liked and he doesn’t want to cum without feeling you fall apart around him.

He ends up leaning so far forward, you really do fall back, lips breaking apart as you crumple onto the desk. Suguru pulls you forward by your hips, your ass now nearly completely off the desk as he fucks you.

“Fucking little slut- gonna make me cum-” His bottom lip is between his teeth, clamping down so hard it just might draw blood if he keeps going. Suguru’s hair tickles your skin as he moves, cascading down around you and sticking briefly to your skin.

“Please, please-” Your voice catches in your throat as you cum. No sound comes out of you, your back arching high off the desk as the pleasure finally comes to a peak.

“Fucking beautiful!” Suguru smiles like a madman, his fingers moving even faster on your clit as you rhythmically tighten around him. He kisses your slack mouth, swallows the forced gasps and moans that come from yours chest as your lungs burn for oxygen.

Slapping your ass a few times, Suguru cums inside you. Pushing his cock in as deep as possible he grinds himself against you, pushing a long, low groan into your mouth as he does. The hand on your cunt drops away, wrapping wet and sticky fingers around your thigh as he moves away from your mouth to breathe.

“What a...what a good student I have.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he catches his breath. Letting your legs fall slack, Suguru pushes a hand on your bladder to feel himself slide out of you.

As his cock leaves you, there’s a dribble of his cum that follows, staining your cunt white and dripping down between the crack of your ass and to the floor. Rubbing a hand on your thigh, Suguru gathers the cum dripping out and pushes it back in.

“Shouldn’t waste any now.” He hums, tracing his fingers up and down your cunt.

“T-too much.” You whine pathetically, trying in vain to grab his hand and stop him. Catching your hand in his, Suguru relents and threads his fingers through yours. The gesture is sweet, even more so when he kisses the back of your hand.

“Such a sweet student I have, wanting to hold my hand.” You giggle at the sentiment, cheeks getting warmer the longer he looks at you with that smile on his face. “Let’s hope you can keep this up for the rest of the term, and maybe I won’t fail you.”

Of course this wouldn’t be a one time thing. Suguru intended to milk this opportunity for all he could, already planning on having you stay after his lesson so he can play with your cunt before his next class.

“Go ahead and get dressed.” Helping you sit up, Suguru untangled himself from you and grabbed a few tissues, putting them in your hand as he started fixing himself up. The sun had gone down even farther during your little escapade, no longer baking the room in warm orange light. It left only a dim, cool glow now, and the heat it provided you was quickly leaving your body along with the sweat evaporating on your skin.

“If you want to keep your grade up, I think we should keep meeting regularly to discuss your progress.” Suguru had his teaching voice on now that he was leading you out of his office ten minutes later, your panties stuffed into his back pocket. There were a few other people passing by in the hall, some giving quick waves to the two of you as they saw you.

“Okay, Mr. Geto.” You knew to play the part well, not wanting to arouse suspicion by calling him by his first name. No one in your class called him Suguru, and especially not Sugu.

“Glad you understand.” He patted your shoulder quickly, giving you a cheeky wink when no one was looking. “I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, (Y/N).” Giving your arm a brief squeeze, he sent you on your way. Turning back to his office, he closed the door and locked it, going back to his desk and laying your panties across his lap.

Pulling out his phone, he snapped a few pictures of your underwear, sniffing it briefly before putting it back in his pocket.

“Professor Satoru is gonna love this.”

[writefightandflightclub]

Somebody to love (PART 1/2): Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader

Summary: Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY): swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

You had been thinking about the small gesture all day. You had been distracted all the way through your shift, and then all through dinner with a friend.

Richard -your neighbour to the right- had turned-up at your door that morning, before setting off on his way to work. His visit had been unexpected, and you had opened the door in a fluster, seeing him greet you with a characteristically soft smile - just visible from beneath the thick brush of his bold, impressive moustache.

He had held them out to you - in between his index and middle finger. A small book of postage stamps.

You had simply looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“For your letters,” he had stated, in his soft-spoken voice. “You said last night you didn’t have any stamps, and I found these in my drawer, so...”

It was true. You had said that. Had forgotten you’d said it. Had barely registered running into him, since it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Your routine overlapped minimally with Richard’s -though more so since his new role in the letter room had him working days exclusively- but sometimes, you would meet serendipitously, as neighbours tend to do. Last night, in the liminal space between your work day ending and your home life beginning, you had stopped to chat with him, and -you remembered now- had made some offhand comment about needing some stamps.

The topic of letters had come up; naturally, given his new position. It caused you to mention having written some letters to your nieces -packaged up with little illustrated portraits you’d gotten commissioned for their new bedrooms. Letters which you hadn’t gotten around to posting.

And so, here Richard was. On your doorstep. With stamps.

It was a little thing. So little, it didn’t even register at the time. In fact, you had bundled him off your porch with a quick, cursory “Thanks, Richard!”, prioritising finishing your morning scramble and making it out of the door on time.

It didn’t register in the moment, no; but you were noticing it now, alright.

“-so, this morning,” you explain to your friend opposite you in the pizza parlour, as she absent-mindedly dips her crusts in some hot sauce, “there he is on my doorstep, and he’d brought me some stamps.”

Your friend, Jaz, dips her chin and slowly raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her glossed lips curling in an amused, incredulous smile. “So, let me get this straight. He brought you some... stamps, which he already had, from his house next door,” she recaps, her smile inching wider by the second, “and now you want to fuck him?!”. Her eyebrows knit together in faux concern and she clamps a hand over yours where it rests on the table. “Sweetie, we need to talk. How low is your bar these days? Exactly how dick-starved are you?”

Ordinarily you’d be more than game for the light fun she pokes at you. Would even have a smart riposte ready. This time, though, you simply huff, your jaw twitching in minor irritation at how flippant she is being. So, shaking your head gently, you pull your hand away from hers, folding your jacket around yourself, suddenly feeling exceedingly self-conscious.

“Never mind. I’m obviously not telling it right. And, wait - hold up- who in the hell said I wanted to...” you look around the parlour, voice dropping to an indignant whisper as if anyone around you would hear or care about your hypothetical sexploits “...fuck him?” Your tone is defensive, and you shift to take a masking nibble on your straw, slurping the dregs of your soda and bouncing your leg nervously under the table.

Your friend merely raises an eyebrow, with a healthy -and not entirely unfounded- scepticism, and so, you try to rein your protestations in, lest you get slammed with a “methinks you doth protest too much”.

“Okay, okay,” Jaz concedes, holding up her hands and leaning back in her chair. “All I’m saying is, it seems like you have a hard-on for him all of a sudden. You’ve lived by him for years and you’ve never noticed the guy! It’s just stamps, baby cakes. It’s just your paunchy, kindly neighbour, who gets milkshake stuck in his moustache.”

At least he’s not afraid to make a mess of himself when he’s slurping, you think idly, your eyebrow ticking up - the thought leading you in a very particular direction and sending a sudden scorching heat to your cheeks. Also - paunchy? I like a beautiful soft tummy to rest my head on, thank you very much.

Yeesh. You are not okay. Still, before you go full feral, you shrug your shoulders in partial concession, widening your eyes in innocence. “Uh huh. Sure. Yeah.” 

“Seriously?” Jaz continues, shaking her head in good-natured disbelief - blatantly seeing right through you. “Are stamps your love language now, or what the fuck?”

She’s not wrong. It is very… sudden. You’ve never felt that way about Richard before. But is it so preposterous to think you might begin to?

“Jeez! Who said anything about love?!” You swirl your straw in your cup, concentrating on puncturing the remaining bubbles and ignoring your friend’s peals of bemused laughter. “Look, okay? I guess you’re right, Jaz. Maybe I’m just dick-starved,” you suggest, a smile finally claiming your lips. “It has been… a little while. And the last encounter was not very... inspiring.” You wiggle your eyebrows at her and your shared laughter mingles in the space between you. Still, you’re more than a little keen to deflect, and you bounce your foot more furiously under the table in your haste to change the subject. “I just thought it was sweet of him, that’s all, but… forget it, okay? Tell me everything about your hot date with Jackson.”

As soon as the invitation is given, Jaz jumps on it. And, as you listen to her spill the tea on her latest hook-ups with her fancy man, you try really hard to focus - but you can’t help that your thoughts keep wandering time and again to a certain man. A man with the kindest, most soulful cola-coloured eyes. Your neighbour to the right.  

You’re unsure why, but you feel a little bent out of shape - a little annoyed, even- that Jaz was so quick to dismiss Richard. Particularly that she had seemed to miss the whole meaning behind his small gesture. He was listening to you. He was thinking about you. And, as you dwell further on it, you realise that maybe -just maybe- you want the kind of guy who brings you stamps, goddammit.

Shit - maybe Jaz wasn’t too far off when she said stamps were your love language after all.

And, true, maybe you hadn’t paid the faintest bit of romantic attention to Richard -for the most part- in the years you’d lived side-by-side with him... but maybe it was time to start. Maybe, in fact, it was well overdue.

***

Granted, it hadn’t struck you right away how sweet Richard’s gesture was, but as soon as it had, you started to notice everything. To remember everything.

You remembered how he pushed a flyer through your door one evening, just in case you might be interested in the latest art exhibit going on at the local rec centre. You recalled how he had duct-taped the handle of your garbage can back together after it spectacularly broke one morning, causing your trash to spill over the sidewalk. It hadn’t seemed like a huge thing at the time, but now, as you imagine him painstakingly unfurling the roll and passing it around and around the broken piece, entirely on his own steam, it takes on a new meaning.

You have begun to notice - really notice- how he always smiles and stops to chat to you, his face lighting up as if he is genuinely pleased to see you. You have begun to notice everything he has done for you, over the years, a deluge of kindness flooding your heart. Details -little things- which seemed insignificant at the time, but which weigh heavier than gold now that you reflect on them.

And, most of all, you have noticed him.

Richard.

You have noticed his positivity. That bounce he gets in his step when he’s enthusiastic about something (which is always). The way his expressive, long-lashed eyes reveal everything he’s feeling whenever he talks or listens - his emotions and his compassionate heart pinned firmly on his sleeve, as prominent as his Corrections Officer badge. You notice how handsome he is; a fact which has inexplicably passed you by for the longest time. Perhaps, because of how understated he is? Not cocky and assured and alpha like the guys you’re usually drawn to.

Tonight, though, most of all, you are noticing that he’s not home, as you sit on your front porch steps, entirely locked out of your own house. You know for a fact that a couple of neighbours have spotted you there - you’ve observed pairs of curtains twitching- and yet no-one has come to your aid so far, mean bastards. You know, in contrast, that Richard would help anyone who needed it, without hesitation. And, it’s fair to say that sitting here, waiting for him to return and help you out, is certainly providing you plenty of opportunity to dwell on thoughts of him. In fact, you can’t wait for him to get home; not only because you wish for relief from the elements, no. But because the thought of seeing him actually excites you. You are looking forward to it.

Finally, thankfully, after the evening chill has long begun to bite at your extremities, you see Richard approaching. He whistles a jaunty tune as he comes up his drive, happy as usual. From his silhouette, you note that he’s dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and his usual ill-fitting jeans, his keys already jangling in his hand, and he stops abruptly when he sees you sat out front as though his feet are glued to the floor.

You can just about make out the smile which tugs at his lips, moments before his words do. He always seems happy to see you, and, on this occasion, you echo that feeling too, more so than ever. “Locked out?” he calls, and at the sound of his voice you stand, hopefully, clasping your purse on your shoulder, your own feet glued to the floor too.

“Yeah,” you call, throwing your voice over to him. “Waiting for the locksmith.”

You grip the strap of your purse a little tighter, as Richard takes a few steps closer, a polite but cautious smile lighting his face. “Want to wait inside?”

“Hell yes,” you gush with a relieved exhale of breath, gratefully trotting around to meet him on his porch where the security light bathes him in a halo of orange. “You’re a babe. Thank you, Richard.” You allow your eyes to gently rove over him as you approach. He’s wearing a turquoise bowling shirt, you realise. A bowling shirt with “Alonso Muñoz” stitched in an adorable flourish of red embroidery above the left shirt pocket. What’s more, he looks cute as all hell in it too. You seem to recall he’s in a casual league with some buddies.

“It’s no trouble,” he says with a warm, disarming smile, deep, pleasing creases radiating from around his eyes – and, even though you aren’t usually one to be lost for words, it is all you can do to smile back at him vacantly, clutching your purse strap tight enough that your knuckles strain.

Richard pauses too, seemingly taking a moment to remember the keys bunched and readied in his hand - as though your presence has pushed all other thoughts out of his head. “You must be cold. Let’s get you warmed up,” he says finally, snapping himself out of his stupor.

Yes please.

And so, with a bashful flutter of his long lashes as you shuffle even closer to him, Richard opens the door and guides you inside, hover-handing his palm at the small of your back.

He smiles widely as he is welcomed by his little fur ball, Lady, the white dog yipping and wagging and jumping up at his shins. Richard stoops to bundle her into his arms, the animal rasping its tongue over his shapely jaw, which he raises as he squirms away from the wet, eager kisses.

“Aw, you’re so precious, Lady,” you baby-talk, reaching out to apply fond scritches to the mop of her head. “I forget how cute you are, little bean!”

Richard chuckles with mirth, seemingly warmed by your sweet interaction with his pupper, and only when Lady gets restless in his arms does he set about plopping her down and refilling her food bowl.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Richard offers, before he briefly excuses himself, dipping away into another room and signalling he’ll be right back.

With Richard gone and Lady chowing down on her dried food, you take the opportunity to glance around the place, surprised by how at home you do feel, already, even though you’ve never set foot in here before. You’ve been in his yard before; for example, when he’s hosted block barbeques, or, when the summer sun has withered from your yard, you’ve sometimes shimmied your deck chair to be side by side with his as you languished together in the remaining patch of sun. But you’ve never been inside his home. Now that you are, you drink in the details of him, eager for any new information you can glean, and scanning over the books and paintings and photographs with particular interest. You smile as your eyes fall upon Lady’s bed, filled with a procession of carefully arranged stuffed animals and chew toys.  You are warmed by the painting of a beachy, mountain-edged, palm-fronded sunset, propped against the ‘sill.

You note that his place is homely and well-tended, and you also can’t help but notice that the place signals a rather solitary existence. One plate and one fork drying on the dish rack. A perfectly placed easy chair -for one- in front of the TV, the small couch to its side covered with stacks of books and papers, as if it has been a while since he entertained a guest. In fact, you would take a seat -make yourself at home- but you don’t want to intrude on His Seat, and nor do you wish to disturb his personal papers to clear the couch.

As you ponder this, Richard re-enters, extending a soft, flannel shirt towards you. “Here. In case you’re cold.”

You smile your thanks to him (grinning like a dumbass, actually) and you gratefully slip the garment over your shoulders, feeling instantly warmed. As you wrap it around yourself, you get a waft of fresh-scented detergent. You would never have guessed that you’d be able to recognise any particular Richard-y scent, but as the shirt’s pleasant odour engulfs you, you realise it is infinitely familiar. That it is wildly comforting.

You watch, a brief moment of awkwardness as Richard self-consciously combs his fingers through his thick moustache; sweeps a hand over his already immaculate, plastered-down curls. He looks so... neat. Controlled. Restrained. It crosses your mind that you’d like to mess him up a bit, see him come undone - of course, if he wanted.

Then, noticing your seating predicament, Richard surges over to gather up the strewn piles of mess, shifting them on to the coffee table instead. “Here, take a seat,” he indicates. “Sorry for the mess- I emptied the bureau looking for the stamps. Please. Every time I think to put it back I get distracted.”

His comment is nonchalant, but for the second time since he arrived home, you are at a loss for words, and you can only stare at him as you sink your ass down, gratefully, on to the now emptied couch. He’d gone to that effort for you? And now he’s apologising right to your face for the mess of it?

“That was kind of you, Richard,” you state, finding words again, and he shuffles nervously from shoe to shoe in response. You note that his brown skin grows increasingly flushed, with a deepening undertone of crimson as his eyes skim cautiously over you. “And thank you for letting me hang here. Promise I’ll be out of your hair soon. The locksmith should only be...” You suck in air through your teeth as you un-pocket your cell and glance at the time. “Yikes. Another hour. I’m so sorry to get in the way.”

His moustache twitches with a shy smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes all big and pretty. He certainly doesn’t look put-out, at least. “Not at all - it’s… really nice to have you here,” Richard insists, polite and sincere as ever. You are the one to feel bashful now, and you tug his shirt more firmly around your shoulders for comfort, the act serving to further fluster you and entrance him, it seems. He seems frozen to the spot again, and meanwhile, you’re now feeling overly warmed.

He looks a little lost, for a moment, as though it’s been so long since he had a visitor that he doesn’t quite know what to do with you. In the next second though, his practiced hospitality kicks in, his warm and affable nature shining through as he determines a course of action. “Have you eaten? I could fix you some dinner.”

You are hungry, you think, your tongue darting out along your bottom lip at the thought of food. Well, if he’s going to feed you, you’re not letting him do all the work -you decide- so you tentatively rise from your seat, clapping your palms together, signifying action. “Only if I can help you?”

“O- okay. Yeah. Thank you,” he nods; then, he comes to stand with his hands on his hips, thumbs to the front, causing his soft, rounded belly to protrude exaggeratedly from under his shirt. You’re not sure why that sends a very subtle flare of heat down between your legs, but it does all the same.

Meanwhile, oblivious to your thirsty inner monologue, Richard looks at you reservedly, until you smile and cross together to the humble kitchen, where, with another bashful flutter of his lashes he begins grabbing out utensils and ingredients. All the while, he moves seamlessly around you, so careful never to touch or to invade your personal space. The pronounced and careful lack of contact makes you realise, however -as he skims his body so close yet so far from yours in the compact space- that maybe you desperately want him to touch you. That you wouldn’t mind if his hand brushed your back, or lower. That maybe having him envelop his arms around you would feel as warm and comforting as his shirt – or even more so. That even, perhaps, if he pressed you from behind into the counter, his soft stomach leading, followed by his wide hips pinning you in place, his moustache grazing up the column of your neck, that you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, the thought of his touch, and even the mere potential of it, fills you with an excited buzz deep in your belly. A thrill that you haven’t felt for a long time – at least, not quite like this.

Right now, though, you set these thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. You move around each other a little awkwardly, but thankfully, the conversation flows far more easily than your bodies. Richard’s shy and gentle, but he’s friendly. Inquisitive and interesting, and he keeps you chatting. And, so, you converse and cook together, until the resulting, homely odours waft into your nose, keeping your mind firmly on your much more literal hunger; at least, for the most part.

When the steaming food is plated up, Richard invites you to take a seat on the couch and you oblige, watching him fondly and with interest as he produces various condiments, a bottle of Mr. Chimi’s Churri sauce taking pride of place on the surface in front of you. You add a healthy dollop.

“Mmm, this is so good, thank you,” you say approvingly when he invites you to dig in, eagerly wolfing down forkfuls.

As soon as Richard has plonked himself down in his chair and balanced his own plate on his lap, he flicks on the TV – likely, more out of habit than anything. A vibrant telenovela sparks to life in the background, a particularly melodramatic scene in full swing. You smile to yourself. You recognise the show - you’ve heard him talk about it too. Even get the impression he watches religiously.

Richard’s eyes fix on the screen for a moment, and he is visibly suckered-in by the unfolding plot, his food disappearing at an impressive rate as he scoops it up to his mouth while he watches. Still, he doesn’t forget you’re there. Quite the contrary.

“It’s so sad,” he explains for your benefit, between his mouthfuls of dinner, his eyes overflowing with warmth as he turns to you. “Carlos and Adela are so in love, but they can’t be together. She’s engaged to Luis. She has to stay with him to save the family home because she already signed some papers.”

You smile, Richard’s heartfelt summary filling you with warmth. He cares about people. It’s what he does. Apparently, he’s even invested in the fictional ones. You try hard to supress your good-natured amusement at quite how invested he is; however, when his gaze meets yours once again, flicking back and forth between you and the screen, he must catch a hint of it in your expression. “Sorry,” he flusters. “I can turn this off, if you like?” he offers gently, eyes apologetic.

“Are you kidding?” you respond, with a warm smile. You’re no stranger to becoming over-invested in fiction, you suppose, and besides - you like the prospect of sharing this with him. “Catch me up some more,” you encourage. “So, we’re rooting for Carlos?”

Richard smiles gratefully, nodding vigorously in response. You like seeing him like this. In his own element, his own environment, doing things he typically enjoys. It’s nice to see him living his best life, thriving on the drama of the trope-laden plot. “I hope Carlos crashes the wedding. Luis doesn’t deserve her.”

“Yikes. You’re brutal, Alonso Muñoz,” you tease, a musical laugh lilting out of you.

You chat back and forth, an amused smile twitching at the corner of your mouth for the duration, and although Richard seems somewhat entranced by the developing storyline, he seems even more invested in you. He makes sure to listen to you, even when you’re sure you must be talking over an important detail. He ensures he fills you in on any prior plot point you may need for context.

And, while his eyes do intermittently flick back toward the screen, your eyes, however, remain firmly fixed on him. On the singular swoop of his meticulously parted, grizzled curls. On his long lashes blinking, his deep eyes shining beneath them, glinting in tandem with the light from the screen. His warm, brown skin and the lines etched in it when he smiles cast with a bluish hue, flickering light and shadow ghosting over the contours of his strong nose and chin and his heavy brow. The soft, inviting rolls of his stomach as he relaxes into his chair, and the way his belly shakes when he laughs. Of course, his glorious moustache, positively flourishing on his upper lip. Last but not least, what most gets you though, are his eyes. Eyes as kind and expressive and open as this sweet man’s heart is.

You laugh alongside him, hoping he is enjoying the company as much as you are. You could get used to this, you think; used to him. Indeed, you have no idea how you have managed to overlook this man, beautiful inside and out, until now. You resolve though, that you won’t make that same mistake again.

Eventually, the credits roll, and you thank Richard once more for the food. He carries your plate over to the sink, insisting -when you offer- that the dishes can languish there for one night. And so, instead of rising, you pat the couch cushion beside you invitingly. His throat bobs around a hard swallow as he stands before you, his feet momentarily glued to the floor; yet again. When Richard finally musters movement and takes a seat next to you, he places himself as far away from you as he possibly can on the small two-seater; out of respect rather than repulsion, you are more than sure. However, the compact space affords him little chance to keep his distance, and his clothed thigh presses warm against your own. He doesn’t make any attempt to move away though, and, equally, nor do you.

“Thank you, Richard,” you say, your voice softer and far more breathy than you intended, now that he is so close to you.

He clears his throat self-consciously, before his eyes crease with a sincere smile. “It’s no trouble. Anytime.” He sounds like he means it too.

You lean back, settling yourself deeper into the worn and slightly lumpy couch cushions. His posture, meanwhile, is still alarmingly stiff beside you, his torso upright and his hands folded formally in his lap. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say that, perhaps, you made him nervous.

“Richard, I don’t bite,” you soothe. “Sit back. Relax. It’s your home.”

He nods in concession, exhaling his tensely held breath. “Yes, Ma’am,” he sounds obediently. You don’t think you’ve ever had anyone call you Ma’am before; but you note that you don’t entirely mind it, out of Richard’s mouth. You maybe even… like it?

Anyway, outside of your increasingly feral internal monologue, Richard reaches over to flick on the soft, ambient lamp to his side -the room having grown thick with shadows- and then he is sinking back, resting his head against the couch cushions alongside you.

You turn your head and tilt your torso a little towards him. When Richard does the same, it evokes a sense of intimacy that you weren’t all the way prepared for; the rest of the room seems to disappear as you are both held in a close circle of oranged light, the TV nothing but a lulling, background hum now. “I mean it... I... I wanted to thank you properly. For the stamps.”

“It’s no trouble,” he repeats, his voice deep and resonant and close now, catching you off-guard. No trouble? Sure. Despite the fact he’d clearly emptied-out everything in his living room to find them. “Did you send your letters?” he enquires softly, his eyebrows jumping up a little.

You can’t supress the bittersweet smile which inches over your face as you respond. “I did, and I got the cutest video call from my nieces when their mail arrived.” That wouldn’t have happened. Not without him being so thoughtful. You’d have put it off and put it off. The letters would still be sat on your dresser.  

Richard’s eyes light, and he looks genuinely pleased for you, his face glowing. “I’m glad.” He smiles, revealing a flash of his cute, ever so slightly imperfect (and therefore entirely perfect) teeth. Finally beginning to relax again, his hands rest flat astride his sturdy thighs and his head lolls towards you. With his next words, his voice becomes even softer. “I can tell you miss them since they moved away. Portland, right? I, uh. I really hoped you would send those letters. I know how much they can mean to people.”

“Portland. Yeah. Wow, you remember that?” You have to admit that you are a little shocked. Richard listened to you. Really listened to you. And, not only that, but he clearly read between the lines, connecting the dots between each one of your ad hoc interactions in a way which you -apparently- had failed to do thus far.

Jaz would scoff at you right now, you know it, if she could see you becoming all shy and flustered for him.

And now you want to fuck him?

But it wasn’t only that he brought you the stamps, okay? It was why he did it. He did it, because he knew what it might mean for you. Because, evidently, not only did he notice that you were sad -about something you barely let yourself acknowledge, by the way- but he also cared enough to try to make you happy instead.

The realisation that he cares is an emotional thing, causing a slight lump to rise in your throat. It should probably make you happy, but in fact, it saddens you. It saddens you because -you realise now- you have taken for granted all this time how easy Richard is to talk to. Have taken for granted the way he has been privy to so many candid details about your life.

Richard has often been the first person you’ve spoken to when you arrived home -sometimes the only person- and you have never hesitated to share your good news and triumphs with him. Nor have you hesitated to vent, sharing the more difficult details of your bad days. You’ve taken for granted just how much of yourself you’ve cumulatively shared with him; in a way you don’t often share with anyone else. Richard has been an important part of your life all these years, without you truly realising it. Perhaps because your interactions with him have tended to exist in such a liminal, peculiar space in your day. Perhaps because you were too close to see the big picture, instead of this collection of valuable, little things.

You hug your arms around yourself. You can merely repeat it again. “Thank you. For real.”

“It’s just a little thing,” he dismisses, modestly, and you are very suddenly tired of him dismissing himself. You want him to know how appreciated he is. Embodying this, your hand darts out to grip his where it rests on his thigh, and Richard looks down at this small spectacle in mild shock; and yet, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“It’s not. It’s a lot of things, Richard. I want you to know I appreciate everything you do. It has... It has been a long time since anyone was so sweet to me.”

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, following your outburst of affection, you inch your hand away from his; retreating, and reining yourself back in. For a moment, Richard’s fingers twitch up from his pant leg as though they might chase yours; but then, his hand stills, settled on his thigh just as before.

Then, a crease appears at his brow. “None of your Adonises are sweet to you?”

Your nose crinkles in confusion. “My... Adonises?”

“The... your... gentlemen visitors.”

Your brow creases, as you try to detect whether there is any judgement or malice in his observation, but, knowing him, you are not inclined to think there is. Still, you feel there is more to uncover. He’s noticed your dates coming and going then? He thinks they’re… Adonises? He’s surprised they aren’t sweet to you?

Still, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, perhaps realising how they might be misinterpreted, that crimson undertone to his skin flares again, this time reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks like he wants the couch to swallow him up, and you can’t help but feel for him. “I just meant...”

“-It’s okay,” you say, swooping in to rescue him before he can start helplessly blabbering. He keenly takes the invitation to stop, his mouth suddenly clamping shut, ready to listen. And you? You are ready to talk. The words seem to come so easily around him. “I guess... you’re right. I’ve been on some dates but they...” you sigh, furrowing your brow as you try to find the words. “That’s all fine. Most of the time it’s really fun. Or it was. But... lately...”

“Lately?” Richard encourages, when you don’t go on, his voice barely above a whisper as he hangs on your every word.

“Lately, I think… That maybe it would be nice to have somebody who doesn’t just come and go. To have… somebody to love, I guess?”

“Somebody to love,” Richard ponders, his expression becoming wistful. His head begins moving up and down ever so slowly, gradually building to a more adamant nod. He smiles, but his eyes don’t crease at the corners this time. “That really does sound nice.”

It shocks you, but seeing him even a little sad, like that, has your hands fisting in the material of your skirt, as you resist the urge to reach out for him and offer comfort. You want to cup his face in your hand and kiss him senseless, until his eyes glow once more, imbued with his characteristic positivity. You want to care for him and protect him and make him laugh and spend time with him and…

Fuck.

You want to love him, you realise, and the thought scares you down to your bones. It scares you enough that you sit forwards, breaking this most peculiar tension. Changing the topic. And, abrupt as it may be, at least it works.

“What are you reading?” you ask, shrugging his shirt from your shoulders as a hot, cloying flush creeps along your skin and up your neck, prickly enough that it feels like fingertips. As you imagine Richard’s fingers dancing the same path over your bare shoulder blade, slipping beneath the spaghetti strap of your top, peeling it down, you hurriedly pick up the first book you can put your hands on, turning it in your palms without taking in a word written on it.

Poor Richard. You must be giving the sweet man whiplash.

Still, he leans forward in his seat too, sombrely taking the book from your hands and gazing down at the cover.

“Ah. It’s a bleak topic,” he warns. A deep crease appears in his brow. “It’s Night, by Elie Wiesel – a survivor’s account of his experiences during the Holocaust.”

Your expression turns grave and pinched and you nod, listening carefully as Richard recounts some of the key details. Then, together, you continue to pore through the pile, tackling each book in turn. You listen intently to Richard recount the various synopses, passionate and precise and sensitive in his summaries. It seems he reads a lot of non-fiction. Heavy reading, with many titles about the prison system, and atrocities - often both. But, you understand why it’s important to him. You are grateful to understand how his empathetic nature begets yet more empathy, as he seeks to expand his knowledge of experiences and histories different to his own. 

At first sight, you think it’s seemingly at odds that such a positive man seeks out such dark accounts, but it makes sense to you, in a strange way. After all, he wants to understand how things can be better. He believes they can be. You don’t know anything more Richard-y than that.

Reaching for the next title, you find it is a little different to the rest. You are reluctant to segue too abruptly from such heavy topics, keen to give them the merit they deserve, but at the same time you are grateful for a little lightness as you pick-up what appears to be a slightly trashy romance novel. You smile fondly, connecting the dots between this and the telenovela plotlines that seem to grab his attention; the way he seems so in love with love. Again, you consider how the two sides of him -the more serious and seemingly more trivial - may seem at odds, but that actually, they each reveal what is at the core of him. He is interested in people. He’s invested.

“And this book?” you ask tentatively, not even trying to stifle your smile as your eyes wander over the cover, two half-dressed people locked in an erotic, sordid embrace. You are especially keen to hear what he has to say about this one too.

“Well… Like you said. Somebody to love - right? Don’t we all need those kinds of stories?”

Your eyes glow with admiration. Whilst he’s not cocky or overly assured, no, you are coming to admire Richard’s quiet confidence in who he is and what he cares about. His integrity and his lack of embarrassment in the things he chooses to value. His delight and lack of shame in the things that he enjoys. He’s not afraid to be who he is. You think that’s wonderful.

Next, your eyes flick back to the final book on the pile, partly for completeness but also out of curiosity. You feel with each title you pick-up, you are learning something about him; and, frankly, you want to know everything there is to find out. You look at it with a start however, when you realise what the final book in the pile is.

It’s your book. It’s the anthology of poetry you’d self-published around a year ago, and sold at your local readings. You reach for it instantly, almost cradling it in your hands like a precious object. Not because it’s yours - not exactly- but because it’s his. His copy looks eminently different to the spares you still have boxed-up in your house, all fresh and crisp, spines unbroken. This one looks a little worn around the edges - well-thumbed, spine broken-in. Some of the pages are dog-eared, and various makeshift bookmarks are sticking out of it. You’ve never seen one of your publications looking so… beautiful. So treasured.

“You actually read this?” you ask, a little overwhelmed, your heart hammering, and tears spiking in your eyes.

“I read it often. I told you, I really like it!”

You stroke the cover with your palm. “Honestly? I thought you were just being polite.”

When you’d mentioned to him for the first time that you wrote poetry -specifically erotic poetry- and had invited him to the reading, Richard had looked, at first, as though he was ready to die of embarrassment. Regardless, he’d still come along - your only neighbour to have done so. You vaguely remember having spoken to him the day afterward about it, but when you think of the show itself, you can’t picture him there. Now, you desperately wrack your memory of the event, searching for him. Wishing you could recall him showing-up for you in such an important way. 

It had been such a blur, though. You’d had a lot of friends there. You’d had a date there, who, at the time, you’d thought was the be all and end all. Now, however, you curse yourself for overlooking Richard. You wish you could go back and root through the crowd for him. You wish you could bring him into the spotlight. Bring him into your arms. And yet, while you ponder all of this, Richard reaches for the book and gently lifts it from your hands, with a gentle hum. It practically falls open on one particular page.

“This one is my favourite,” he admits bashfully. “Salted Peach. I must have it almost memorised by now.” You turn to him, studying his face. His expressive eyes are full of a heat gentler and more nuanced than your words could ever hope to be, you think, as he pores over the page. Over your words.

“No way. Prove it, Alonso Muñoz,” you challenge, exhaling a laugh that is surprised and disbelieving and utterly delighted all at once.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it, but the man sets his face, both more determined and more playful than you think you have seen him so far, as he hands the book back to you. “Okay,” he smiles, softly. “I’ll give it a go.”

You hold your breath as his eyes flutter closed -so that you know he has zero chance of cheating- his long lashes fanning-out beautifully over his cheek. You take the chance to look over his handsome features, while he can’t interrupt your surreptitious study.

Then, he begins. His voice is hushed and unsure, yet the richness of it washes over you, right from the first line.

“Like salt kept on the lips,

To resist is to rust,” he begins, and your breath catches in your chest.

“Let me be an oiled thing under you, all fluid and opening smoothly

With keen, slick hinges.”

First, you are struck that he really does know it. That he really does remember it, almost word perfect. You exhale a breath in disbelief, your chest filling with butterflies.

“A ruined peach

Spilling nectar over your thumb,” he continues, and desire knots deep in your belly.

It’s not that the words are explicit – they aren’t. But something about the way he recites them -recounts your desire- makes them feel positively sinful, his voice quietly confident and subtly erotic as he recites your words. You don’t only hear the words, but you feel them, almost as if his thumb really has punctured you.

You are becoming slick already, feeling like a ruined, grateful fruit. You want to be his fruit, you think. His salted peach.

“You can be my stiffness

My joints

My... (my stone heart? Is that right?)” he interjects.

“It’s perfect,” you encourage, your voice trembling slightly, even as his grows ever more robust, and, as you bolster him, he sits a little taller in his seat, his posture proud and the new confidence reflected in his voice as he proceeds. As he grows, stiffer, taller, you become liquid, and you writhe your heat subtly against your seat. You press your thighs closer together.

Enraptured, you watch his lips and tongue move seamlessly around the words. The micro-expressions on his face, revealing how tenderly he wishes to portray them, every word imbued with care. With expression, and feeling.  

“(Got it...) My stone heart

And I, boneless;

Bodiless flesh.”

As he continues, you close your eyes too. You stop checking the words against the book and you let yourself feel them. You let them wash over you. You let his voice wash over you; to sink and curl into the pit of you. You squirm in place, and yet this shifting makes you all too aware of your stillness – this fixed position and distance from him, when surely you should be moving and surging and undulating on him? Surely you should be leaning in and hearing the deep yet gentle timbre of his words waft into the shell of your ear, or fanning over your skin?

Surely, he should be touching you?

Your heart is racing.

“Salt me, then.

Lick your lips and taste me; sweetly.”

You want to taste him. Be tasted.

“Only on your tongue, do I exist.

Only in your hand, do I perish.”

You want to exist and perish on his hand.  

“Do not keep me on your lips.

Oil me with your writhing”

You want to be swallowed by him. Oiled by him. Made slick.

“Or else I rust.”

You are rapt. His words -no, your words, spoken by him- melting you.

His voice. So rich, and so sensual, and you could swear, as you listen to him, that your words have never sounded so erotic. That you have never felt them as deeply as you do now, hearing them fall from his tongue and his lips. Hearing them flow from his heart, as he recites them in a way you’ve never heard them; an interpretation entirely unique to him.

In fact, listening to him, like this, lights a flame in the pit of you, a heat suffusing through you, warming everywhere. He warms you, even from this distance, and you can feel how much heat he has to give. And, on boy. You want to lap it up. Every. Last. Drop.

“I... I forgot the next part,” he adds, shyly, his confidence wavering, and you open your eyes, beginning to recite the rest for him.

“Oh, love,

I long to be a fluid thing;

Under you.”

It sounds… true. It feels right. It feels so right to say those words to him. So right that it knocks the air from out of you.

At the sound of your voice, you watch a soft, unfiltered smile appear on Richard’s face, his still-closed eyes creasing deliciously at the corners, his moustache animating with it.

“And yet you resist me; rust me,” you continue, voice full of fissures, and Richard’s eyes slowly peel open, pooling with heat. This time, unlike the other times his eyes have met yours, he holds your gaze - doesn’t drop his eyes from yours in a flurry of bashfulness and fluttered lashes. He holds your gaze and he holds you, in this moment. In this little circle of intimacy, his eyes glowing, all for you. Pooling with that heat, so nuanced and gentle, but every bit as hot as anything you’ve ever touched.

Your voice and your smile and your heart crack wide open as you continue.

“You are salt kept on my lips;”

You complete the last lines at the same time, eyes locked. 

“Always tempting.

I seize up.”

Of all the swimming emotions rising at that moment, gratitude balls in your heart most intensely, and yet again, it is all you can do to thrust it towards him, your humble offering.

“Thank you,” you say, for the nth time that evening, a smile of the purest joy still splitting your face. “That was really beautiful.”  

It’s hard to comprehend how moved you are by what just happened. You are shocked. Flattered. That someone appreciates your words, that they resonate at all, makes you feel so seen. That the person is Richard is more of a treasure than you can fathom, and it causes a flood of raw, reckless emotion, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

In return, Richard’s eyes shine as he regards you, with an admiration so deep and yet prominent that you almost shrink back from it. “They’re your words,” he impresses, aiming, as ever, to shrink himself instead.

You shake your head. You won’t have that. “No, Richard - it’s the way you recited them. I swear you should do my next reading for me. You’re so…” You search desperately for the right words, and you can’t find ones any more fitting. “…So fucking beautiful.”

And you call yourself a poet?

Your eyes well up.

You feel entirely caught off guard and just a little silly that you are getting yourself upset in front of him, and yet Richard’s eyes narrow kindly as you try to scrub a stray tear away from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soothing, and in the next breath he reaches out to touch you, his hand settling over the top of yours. The gesture is a little awkward, unsure, but only until his hand is in place. After that it simply feels... right. Perfect, in fact.

He strokes you, his thumb ghosting slowly, minutely over your pulse point, sending a delicious shiver along your spine. His eyes search yours, and you become thoroughly lost in the intensity of them. Lost in a way that you don’t ever wish to find yourself again. Lost in a way that turns everything on its head - has you finally feeling found.

“I loved hearing you read. It was so wonderful. You should definitely do another event,” Richard gushes. “I’m sure I could listen to you read from this all night.” With that, and the scenario it conjures, perhaps, he looks down at his hand on yours. Maybe growing self-conscious, or worried that he is overstepping; that he has lingered there too long. Suddenly, though, you don’t think any length of time could be too long for him to be touching you.

When your gaze drops to his lips, however, his moustache bristles, and he quickly snatches his hand back to his lap. “Have you written anything lately?” he asks hurriedly, scooping up the book again, his topic change giving off the same energy as yours did previously.

You wonder if he is imagining your fingers trailing over his bare flesh now too. You hope so. Oh how you hope.

At his question, though, you exhale a small laugh, pumping your eyebrows once as your face splits in a smile. You shake your head gently. “I haven’t been... it’s a while since I was, let’s say, properly inspired by an encounter,” you explain, looking down at your hands in your lap, missing his contact already. “I’m just... Hmmph. I don’t know. It’s just... missing something. Guess they don’t make Adonises like they used to,” you add flippantly, poking light fun, partly at yourself.

Contrary to your flippancy, Richard becomes more serious. A gulp trails down his throat, and he seems suddenly frozen in place; seized up. As if he needs you to oil him so that he doesn’t rust. “W-What are you missing?” he asks, his voice lower than you’ve heard it, slightly more grit to it. His chest visibly rising, breaths slightly quickened; just like yours.

You look into his deep, cola-coloured eyes.

You?

What are you missing? You’re not sure, but somehow you feel that whatever it is, Richard could give it to you in moments.

Still, you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, you ask him a question in return. You ask him a question feeling that, somehow, in a roundabout way, both of your questions may arrive at precisely the same answer.

“Why that poem?” you question, softly, lifting your eyes to him. “Why is that one your favourite?”

“I... I think...” he swallows again, then he whets his plush lips with a flick of his pink tongue. “It’s about longing, isn’t it? About being... lonely? About... wanting... someone in particular.” He fixes his expressive eyes on a point on the table, unable to look at you, it seems, in that moment. Still, his words are telling enough alone, you think, even without you seeing that same sentiment mirrored in his eyes too.

Now, you have another question. “Do you ever... get lonely? Are you? Lonely?”

It’s not even an assumption about him, you vaguely realise. It’s a projection. A projection of how you feel, and how you never realised you felt. It’s a desperate plea for affinity. For that longing to be understood, finally.

You are the one who is rusted. Seized up.

However, as soon as the question is out of your mouth you wish you could retract it. Loneliness is a solitary thing, after all, and you have no business, you suppose, wading into anyone else’s.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t answer that,” you mutter quickly, your fingers darting out to ghost along his forearm in apology, your naturally tactile nature coming through.

He drops his gaze towards your fingers there, watching them skimming his warm skin and the soft, dark hairs on his arms. He doesn’t inch away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to you, and you know the answer before he says it aloud. You know the answer as his emotions are written clearly in his eyes. Worn on his sleeve, like his badge.

The weight of his loneliness crushes you as if it was your own.

“Me too,” you admit, nodding softly, and his mouth curls briefly into a small, sad smile as your fingers continue their slow inch across his skin.

He sits in that sadness for a moment, and then, tentatively, as a thought flashes across his eyes, he brightens, just a little – looking mildly more hopeful. “Well,” he suggests, bravely. “Maybe we can… keep each other company?”

That really does sound nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Richard reaches out to fumble away the single tear ever so suddenly coursing down your face, swiping a line on your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so tender as his touch in that moment. It is yet another little thing; like the graze of a match head along its box. A little act, charged, with all this dangerous potential for a much larger, blazing thing to ignite.

You nod, the corners of your mouth trembling. “I would like that.” You would like that a lot.

Richard searches your eyes, and, ever so slowly - always slowly- as if you don’t wish to scare him away, you dare to hook your arm into his at the elbow, and you lower your head until it is resting on top of his shoulder.

“Is – Is this okay, Richard?” you ask in a small voice, pleading inwardly with the universe that he will say yes. That it is.

“This is... perfect,” he responds, even as he remains stiff against you, and, given his affirmation, you curl and scooch your body, shuffling a little closer to him. Bolstered too, with seeming new-found confidence, Richard raises him arm over you, and he nestles you safely against him where you can better feel his warmth. Where, with your knees drawing up on to his lap and your ear coming to rest on his chest, you can feel and hear the quickened thud of his racing heart as he holds you. His beautiful, kind, open heart.

Your mouth extends in a watery smile as you are held by him. He’s right. It’s a little thing, but it is perfect, isn’t it?

Still, again, although you should feel light, you feel heavy. With emotion. With longing. And so, you reach for another topic change. You reach for lightness. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly impressive moustache?” you enquire into his shirt, another solitary tear slipping over the bridge of your nose and wetting the flourish of red stitching.

Giving yourself whiplash now, you smile, as Richard’s chest shakes beneath you with gentle, easy laughter.

“Well, not everybody is a fan.”

“Who would actually dare?” you exclaim, as if thoroughly scandalised. “Fuck them, Richard. I like it. I like it a lot.”

His fingers trace shapes on your back. “Thank you.”

You are pleased to feel him gradually relax against you, his form melding with yours, his body becoming less stiff. Less rusted; more of a fluid thing.

“Do you… do you have a little moustache comb?”

Another chuckle. “I do,” he confirms, and you don’t know why on earth that detail settles it, but you think that he must certainly be the most perfect man on earth.

You go silent for a moment, but Richard prompts you gently - “No more questions for me?”- as if he was enjoying your mood-lightening segue. You are more than happy to oblige the sweet man by continuing, and you chew on your lip as you come up with something.

“Are you on Tinder?” A cheeky smile claims your mouth again - you’d kill to see his profile.

You’d think about the fact he’d probably never send unsolicited dick pics, but… then you’d be thinking about dick pics, and that’s one dangerous road towards Feral Town.

While you ponder this, Richard laughs again, but it’s a little self-deprecating this time. “No... I... I was for a while, but I...”

“What?”

He inhales and sighs his whole breath out again - a sad sound. His tone when he speaks is equally morose. “I’m… not sure people are looking for someone like me.”

At that, you abruptly sit up, narrowing your eyes and fixing a determined, earnest stare on him. You reach up, gingerly, moved to cup his cheek with your palm, his groomed sideburn and the plume of his moustache pleasantly rough under your fingers. You make sure he is looking you in the eyes. “Richard,” you contest, with every scrap of sincerity you can muster; and then some. “I think everybody must be looking for somebody like you.” 

His eyes are pierced by a peculiar emotion you haven’t seen there yet. At first it looks like pain, but then it levels off until his eyes are shining, with something resembling pride or gratitude. When a smile finally twitches his moustache, your gaze drops to his lips again, and you are no longer surprised by how easy it is to think about kissing him, desire unfurling in your belly at an alarming rate. A palpable, mutual longing eddies in the space between you.

You surprise yourself though, by dipping to press a sweet, chaste kiss into his cheek, rather than sinking towards his lips as you so wish to do. When you perform this gesture, his eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft, involuntary hum, the sound gathering in your very bones and setting up camp there. As you dip back from him, the edge of his moustache grazes your cheek, and you have to admit it’s sort of electrifying. You imagine how it would tickle if you were kissed by him. How it would tickle wherever you were kissed.

The lines of poetry, so to speak, are writing themselves in your mind, already. You haven’t felt this inspired in a long time, and yet, on this occasion, you want to wait. You don’t want to rush it - even though you’ve never felt the need to quell your desires on many occasions before. Life is short, after all – too short to waste. However, something tells you that Richard is the type of man you should savour. Something tells you, that you may have found somebody to love, and, you may not love often; but when you do, you love slow.

So, you pull away from Richard, and you note that his eyes have fluttered closed. When he opens them again, you know that this kiss on the cheek was the right thing to do. You see subtle tears shining in his eyes. Again, he looks pained -with first appearances- but these tears, on second examination you think, are joyful. His heart joyful yet heavy, exactly like yours. After all, when you are overwhelmed with joy all at once, with a flood of little, happy things, it can weigh you down, at first, if the measure of joy is not one which you are quite accustomed to. If you are not practised at carrying it.

At that point, contemplating joy, you are ripped cruelly from the moment, as, with the worst and best possible timing, your phone buzzes to life, vibrating against your hip until you reach to fish out the insistent device.

“The locksmith is here, Richard. I have to go.”

“Y- yeah. Okay,” he nods, despite the fact everything about him is conveying the opposite sentiment.

I don’t want to go.

“Thank you so much.” 

He nods again, and, wanting to leave him with a parting thought (or, not wanting to leave him at all, but needs must), you have the bright idea to pick up your book from the table, thumbing through it quickly to find the page you want. A poem called The Flood.

“Recommended bedtime reading,” you wink, thrusting the book towards his chest and standing, grabbing your purse and making your way towards the door. “I can give you back your shirt tomorrow, right?” you say cheekily. “Maybe after dinner?” 

Richard stands too, following you towards the door like he’s magnetised to you, Lady trotting along too, inquisitively, her little black nose snuffling at the air.

“A-after dinner?” he enquires, confused, as you sweep out in a little bit of a whirlwind.

“Yeah, Richard,” you smile coyly from beneath your lashes, injecting some flirtation into your tone. “I owe you dinner. To make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to make it up to...”

You arch an eyebrow at him, looking at him pointedly and smoothing your hand over his upper arm until he gets the gist. When your meaning dawns on him, he gets that adorable, excited little spring in his step. You revel in his bright toothy smile, striking and pearly from beneath the thick brush of his moustache. “I know a nice little pasta place. And there’s a great documentary playing at the Coolidge if you want to catch it?”

“Sure,” you agree, dipping forward to plant another lingering kiss on his cheek in the doorway, relishing the feel of that moustache all over again. “It’s a date.” 

Evidently flustered, and in no bad way, Richard fumbles for words and finds none, omitting a mere collection of stunted syllables and unfinished sounds in response.

You wink at him, and before swooping off, you add one final thing. “Feel free to consider the bedtime reading a preview, okay? If you’d like.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief. You get the feeling he already knows exactly what that particular poem is about. “Yes, ma’am.” he nods, looking sweetly and longingly and adoringly after you as you sashay away.

“Goodnight, neighbour to the right.”

“Goodnight, neighbour to the left.”

You allow yourself one last long look at him before you retreat, an unstoppable smile splitting your face, and, seeing him stood in the doorway, smiling after you, only cements everything you have come to learn this evening.

From now on, neither of you will be lonely anymore. There will be no more longing. Instead, there will be a flood, you think.

THE END

PART TWO IS HERE

[authoressofdarkness]

I saw that you're taking prompts, from the dialogue list. Can I get number 20? “I’ve never had someone taking care of me before.” for starker obviously. I'm excited, I love reading your works. Thank you in advance!

Hi anon! That means so much to me and I’m v glad to be taking this as my first prompt. Thank you 💙

I kinda want to try some new things with some of these prompts, so I’m gonna go at this with omega Tony and alpha Peter and see where it goes. I hope that’s okay with you anon and that everyone likes it 😘

Same age college AU, omegaverse, alpha Peter Parker, omega Tony Stark, some angst and some fluff at the end.

—

It’s a well known fact that Tony Stark has a shitty family.

Well, at least to anyone who knows him, it is. They know how he’ll do anything to not be at home when his father is around, to get out of the endless pressures of social events and promotional things and questions of mating and management and all of the things that he hated about being born an omega and being attached to the last name Stark to top it all off—

For years, it was just him. Some flings, mainly to piss his father off, but he never had his attention for longer than the time it took to scold him or order him around, and his mother was never much help, either. He had precious few friends growing up, never really made any real ones until college when he met Rhodey and Pepper — an alpha and a beta respectively that helped him manage things there and that were the first people to truly understand the depths of struggles he had going on at home.

And they were great friends, still are, but there was never anything more there between them. They helped him float through the first year of school, and then—

And then came Peter Parker.

Tony doesn’t hate all alphas on principle, although he is often rather tempted to try to, what with how they were shoved in his face most of his life. They were great for a good fling but most of them were meatheads. As horny as Tony was, he couldn’t allow just anyone to be close to him, nothing too get to serious, because he’s got a lot of responsibility coming down to him and he needs the right partner — alpha or otherwise — to be willing to deal with that. Not that he’s particularly interested in mating right now but he also isn’t going to allow someone close enough to potentially mark him knowing the repercussions of that.

He’s the heir to Stark Industries, sure, but he’s still an omega. An alpha will have significant legal power over him once they’re mated. And he wants to be the one to run SI, to take on his legacy, to build, to create, and to run his business, and he’s not going to let anyone stop him, even if that means flings forever.

(Not that that’s legally going to fly because he can’t take over until he’s considered qualified which implies a certain amount of stability that translates into having an alpha that’s more than just a fuck buddy but—)

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters after he meets Peter.

Peter is a year younger than him in school, technically, but biologically they’re the same age. Peter just started a bit later than most — and for good reasons, as Tony comes to find out.

He’s in one of Tony’s engineering classes and his organic chemistry class and the omega would be lying if he said he wasn’t immediately taken with him.

He can’t help it. Peter is cute, with his overgrown curls and slim form and silky skin and shy little smile and—

The other man is all alpha, there’s no doubt about it. He exudes it without even trying, but there’s a shyness to him, too. He’s not a meathead; he’s a sweetheart. From day one he’s respectful of Tony in class, kind when he sees him around campus, and that makes them the perfect lab partners in chemistry, and after knowing that, it’s just the natural choice for them to partner for the project in engineering and then—

Then things spiral, and Tony doesn’t even care.

He’s seeking the alpha’s attention, and Peter, the innocent, shy thing he is, is happy to give, to dote on Tony in ways that he would resist if they were coming from anyone else.

They’re not even fucking, but it’s intimate, so intimate that he can’t even explain it, and he loves it, scarily so. It both soothes and sets all his instincts on edge at the same time.

By mid semester they both have keys to come and go freely from each other’s rooms. It’s more common to see them together than it is to ever spot one of them out alone. The whole school probably thinks they’re a couple, and even though they’ve never made it official — and he’s never allowed himself to even come close to considering it before — Tony can’t bring himself to mind.

As midterms approach, though, Tony locks himself in to focus on his work. He doesn’t mean to, really; it’s just that hours studying slip into full nights and then he hasn’t eaten and he hasn’t left the room, even missing one of his classes because he doesn’t realize the time.

Peter hasn’t come by in days and except for the occasional check in text, Tony hasn’t heard from him, either. But they’re both busy with midterms so he really isn’t surprised. In fact he barely has time to eat, let alone check his phone, so even if he was texting him regularly Tony probably wouldn’t be answering.

Except mid terms or no, of course Peter notices when Tony misses class. And when his texts go unanswered by the absorbed omega, he doesn’t hesitate to show up and let himself in.

Tony doesn’t even realize anyone is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps so hard he nearly knocks the chair back, and when he turns around he sees Peter, stepping back and holding his hands up in the universal “I surrender” gesture, clearly not having meant to startle him.

“I’m sorry, I knocked but you didn’t answer so I let myself in. I just— you weren’t in class, and I was worried… are you okay? When was the last time you ate?” It takes all of two seconds for Peter’s sheepishness to melt into concern, and he steps forward again, closing the distance between them to tilt Tony’s chin up, looking at the shadow stretching across his jaw where he hasn’t shaved in a few days. “You’ve lost weight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over Tony’s cheekbone tenderly — which, yeah, is definitely more prominent than it was at the beginning of the week.

Tony’s eyes flutter and he leans into the touch for a moment before refocusing and shaking it off. “I’m fine. This is normal, Peter. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Peter raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know what day it is?”

“It’s Saturday—“

“It’s Monday, Tony. 1pm on Monday, at that. You missed engineering this morning and you haven’t answered my texts all weekend.” Surprise flits across Tony’s face at that, because — yeah, last time he checked it was Saturday, and he had no new texts from Peter, so— “When was the last time you ate?” Peter continues to prod, voice gentle but insistent.

Both aspects only serve to spark irritation in him, though. Tony bats Peter’s hand away from his face, frowning. He doesn’t need to be treated with kid gloves. “I ate a little while ago. I’m fine.”

“You don’t even know what day it is—“

“It all kind of blurs together when you’re not doing anything besides working, okay—“

“Two days is a lot of blur, Tony—“

“And just because I need a shave doesn’t mean I haven’t left my desk or that this isn’t totally normal for midterms—“

“You’re the one saying you haven’t left your desk, not me—“

“That’s not what I meant! I’m just saying—“

“I’m just saying you need to take a short break, it’s not that big of a deal—“

“I don’t need a break, I know my limits—“

“Tony, I really don’t think—“

“Jesus fucking— You’re not my alpha, Parker, would you fuck off?”

The words come out before he can stop them, and he flinched himself at the hurt on Peter’s face, the way the alpha physically recoils, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not— god, I know that, okay? I’m just trying to help you, Tony. Please, this isn’t sustainable. You need to eat. Just— let me find you something, and then I’ll leave, okay?”

Leave? No, he doesn’t want him to leave. But the only thing that comes out is a quiet “whatever,” and he watches Peter escape to the kitchen with a ball of guilt growing in his chest.

Peter is just trying to help. He likes Peter and he doesn’t want him to leave, he just— he panics, and then he snaps.

Because what if Peter wants more? What if he really likes him? And Tony is a fuck up that does shit like this when he feels emotions and has so much baggage attached to being with him and—

And Peter knows that, at least some of it. It’s been a few months of seeing each other nearly every day, now, and his family situation was never a secret.

So why is he still here? Oh god, did Tony just ruin it?

The thought, for reasons that he’s refusing to immediately think about, is almost too much to bear. He stands up, fumbling his way out of the chair and into the kitchen.

The smell hits him almost as soon as he enters, and he sucks in a deep breath. His traitorous stomach growls, loud and demanding.

Soup bubbles on the stove as Peter works at the counter, chopping up some fruits and vegetables. He’s already managed to put a few little storage containers of food together for him, and something in Tony’s gut feels warm at the sight. But it also drops — preparing premade meals most certainly means that Peter isn’t intending to come back.

He looks up when Tony enters, expression wary. “The soup was the quickest thing you had, and since I had to be here for as long as it takes to boil anyway I thought I would just—“

“Peter.” His own voice sounds remarkable calm for how shaky he suddenly feels, lurching towards the alpha at the countertop. “It’s okay. I… thank you, for this. I’m sorry.”

Peter looks taken aback by the apology. “Tony, you don’t have to apologize. You’re right; I’m not your alpha and it’s not my place to give you orders. I just… I care about you, okay? I just want to help. I know you don’t think about me that way, and I’m sorry I overstepped, but—“

“You’re wrong.”

“What?” The words draw Peter up short.

Tony takes a breath, looking down. He focuses on the alpha’s hands, watching him chop instead of looking at his face. It’s easier. “You’re wrong. It’s not that I don’t think of you that way. The problem is… that I do. And I… I’m not used to this. I’ve never had someone take care of me before. Not really, not in any way that mattered. And what I feel for you… it scares me.” He takes a little breath again, looking down at his own hands. “I want you to be my alpha, Peter. But I’m not really a good omega, and I just have so much shit that comes along with being with me. The thought of asking you to do that… what that could do to us… I just don’t think I could handle that.”

He hears the knife ting against the countertop as Peter sets it down, and the pitter patter of footsteps as the alpha crosses the room. He’s suddenly being drawn into a pair of lanky but surprisingly strong arms, surrounded by the musky, relaxing scent of alpha, and he practically melts into it, nestling his nose into the spot between the collar of Peter’s sweatshirt and his throat almost automatically.

Peter’s hand running up and down his back is soothing, relaxing him the rest of the way, and the press of the alpha’s chin against his head is just the perfect weight to be comfortable, reassuring.

“Tony… I’m not an idiot,” he says gently. “I know who you are. What you’ve done, where you came from, what’s expected of you — and yeah, I’m sure there’s more that you haven’t told me and that’s not public, but— I get why this is a struggle for you, and why you feel the need to put so much pressure on yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you for that and it is most definitely not your own fault that you’re not used to being taken care of. And you’ve no idea how badly or how long I’ve wanted to be your alpha.” He pulls back a little to look down at him, fingers scratching Tony’s scalp gently as he works his fingers through his hair. “But that doesn’t mean that this kind of behavior — towards yourself or others — is good or acceptable. It’s okay to let me take care of you — at least in small ways. I know you’re scared of losing your independence, but that’s not what I want for you, either. I just want to help.”

“Help,” Tony echoes, eyes drifting to the pan on the stove and then back to Peter. “I… I think I’d like that.” He bites his lip, looking up at him. They’re about the same size and height, but this close, wrapped in the alpha’s arms and scent, with his steady gaze on him, he can’t help but feel small by comparison. “You really want to be my alpha?”

“Only if you want me to be, but…” Peter looks down at him and cracks his shy little smile. “I’d like to try, if you’d let me.”

“I’d like that,” Tony admits. He shifts to press up against him, putting a hand on his chest. “I’d also really like it if you’d kiss me.”

Peter looks a little surprised, but not unpleasantly. Still, he shakes his head, giving him a little push back. “Tony, you didn’t even know what day it was. God knows when the last time you brushed your teeth is. No offense, but… ew.”

Tony just laughs a little, unable to help himself. “If I brush my teeth…?”

“Maybe. If you eat your food as well.” Peter moves back to the counter, finishing up the container he was working on. “We can’t be doing anything that’s going to burn you extra calories when you don’t have enough to begin with, hm?”

Tony finds himself grinning. “That’s an argument I can get behind. Literally and metaphorically.”

Peter flashes a grin in return, voice back to that gentle but insistent tone that he knows so well when he says, “Go, Tony.”

And for once, Tony is all too happy to obey.

[voidcat]

– rushed whispers

wc: 1.3k + 0.4k ; warnings: (implied) smut, so,, suggestive at best ig

a/n: ik thats not what the anon wanted w I Bet On Losing Dogs but it was nice to put it on repeat while writing this.

It begins like a faint melody, soft and gentle.

A tone of sadness always lingers, a possibility of what could’ve been and the ‘what-if’s; though it never leaves a bad taste, just… distinct.

Like swaying to an old tune, his breath dances on your skin, your hands fumbling with his vest.

Little words spoken, sounds filling the air, the specifics always blur by the time you cut to the chase. The locations do not matter, neither is picky. It’s spontaneous, exciting, the risks keep it going and making your chest race with the possibilities.

So little spoken out loud when there is much to be said and discussed.

In its entirety, it’s just the noises that fill the air, fingers working ever so quickly; skins touching, tracing, nails sinking and marking. It’s just his breath fawning over your ear and your lips on his neck, words have long lost their meanings, as always.

A wordless agreement of sorts. It’s never discussed, nor planned. One seeks out the other and you begin tiptoeing around each other again. Almost like a dance in the dark, that’s how it feels, with your eyes barely open but never off each other, relishing in the pleasure, it ends as it begins.

And Dazai, he never takes his eyes off you. Yet there’s so little light, so little spark in them. Hints and traces of various degrees of emotions flow endlessly but they look exactly as you feel in such escapes, like a veil pulled over, no room for a source of light. Sometimes you wonder if he even possesses a heart.

It’s silly, how on one hand your minds hazy and on the other you think such things. He might think of the same things for you, for all you know.

But you never will, and that’s exactly the point.

Dazai is good at many things and keeping this strictly as intended is one of these.

Grab the bolo tie and pull him in, he’ll be latching on to you instantly. Teeth and skin, he is everywhere. It’s rushed, it’s deep, there’ll be marks in the evening and neither ever really cares.

Isn’t this the point? To not care, to not be attached. Simply a business affair on pleasure. What better way to ensure your colleague will be on his top performance than to make sure of it yourself?

No feelings or strings, they say, but none of it was ever discussed since the beginning. How could any of it work if feelings weren’t a part of it? Every time a new surprise, be it rough, gentle, attentive or selfish. You suppose it’d never be what they call “love making” but then again, that’s not what either of you are craving.

Love isn’t needed when you get to feel every other emotion to feel there is.

“Hey, would you come out for a sec?” It’s as easy like this to get you outside. And next your back will be pressed against the cold surface. He’s onto you in an instant, his warmth making up for the cold that’s growing. While he is busy with your neck, your hands start with the practiced routine.

By the time the buttons come undone, he moves on from your neck, impatient as ever. Still, he often holds the back of your neck during these, and he is careful with the pressure he is applying, making sure your head never hits against the wall, tilting your head while considering the angles to your comfort.

Your mind grows foggy, such is the effect of Dazai, and despite it, you cannot stop thinking. Of all the small details, gestures, what goes on and doesn’t, focusing on the pleasure is one but this? It’s another.

And he knows, that your mind is elsewhere – you know it too. Again, shouldn’t that be a part of it? To take each other’s minds off of things?

Even when your attention is rarely on him, he doesn’t say much of it, doesn’t demand your attention or care, biting on your neck and sucking on it afterwards, he moves up again.

It’s a way to escape for him too, doesn’t care how much of yourself you’ll give to him. Though this doesn’t change the fact that he likes it when your focus is solely on him.

So you do, one hand to stroke his neck and soon moving to the nape of it, up and grabbing his hair, pulling at the moments you know he’ll like, deepening his biting, the movement of his body, pressed against yours until the both oh you are molded in the shape of one another.

There is roughness and gentleness when it calls for it, but all in all, there is passion in his actions. Knowing your body and his, watching every move and reaction, drinking in the sounds the two of you make, as nothing else matters in that moment.

Until it shatters and the unspoken agreement is back in action. It’s never spoken of until it happens again. The again always comes sooner than expected. He is impatient as he is passionate.

Playing each other like instruments, you like to hear him moan the most. Pulling his hair to make room for yourself and leaving marks on him. Dazai claims he hates pain but loves to chase after it like hungry.

It is a good agreement, though nonexistent.

All the marks remain to remind of the pleasures of the previous encounters. It comes as a bonus, to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, seeing marks of red and purple bloom everywhere, every square of your bodies. Satisfactory, although a little scary, showing how much you the other has seen.

No rules to abide, no strings to get caught in, and another thing you realize is that you never kiss.

Lips have touched everywhere but the faces, those remain clean, undisturbed. Maybe neither of you got a taste for masks, maybe you fear the implications of kissing one’s face.

But as clear as the sky and bright as the sun, this is one of the things that always remain unchanged.

Then Dazai kisses you. His teeth tugs at your bottom lip, pulling it down, he must be aiming to make it bleed there, you surmise.

He has kissed every corner of your body but your face and now here he stands, body against yours again, one hand to hold your neck, other to pull you by the waist, tugging on your lip as if he always does this.

No word was ever spoken yet it was always in the open. It should be your earlobe he’s tugging right now, what is he doing?,you think and ask yourself, until you find yourself kissing him back.

As always, it’s these moments of indulgence and pleasure where your mind is running fast. His skin looks barer than ever, he seems vulnerable. With how his bandages have come undone, how he lets you every time, never once hands holding yours in an attempt to stop. Layer upon layer, tightened straps of gauze and fabric to hide away everything underneath, every piece of him; and they come undone like nothing.

It becomes too loud in an instant.

Then again, hasn’t this always been the case? Weren’t all the choices and gestures you made, all the touches and caressing louder than words could ever be? Doing what words could never achieve, setting rules in untouchable air, to surround and entail you, claim your spirit and mind.

Perhaps he just knew you’d never ask the questions he won’t answer, or he simply trusts you, to an extent, as you do him.

It’s loud, with all the mixed noises, actions and hushed whispers – his eyes on yours as always, you give in and let the moment take in, your focus only on Dazai in this corner of time, as no one else exists.

Eyes like a hawk’s, it’s the moments when he gets to see you without nothing but bliss in mind that he cherishes the most. This time, it’s different and he is aware the reason behind is his actions. Unlike any other time, it’s not mere minutes where he gets to have you completely, a shift of something in you and until the high of it rises and dies down, you’re his, and all of him is yours.

For now, Dazai ignores the consequences of his actions and lives through what little you get to share until it ends.

‘La petite mort’, what a fitting name, he thinks, and how expected of him to enjoy it.

The clock starts ticking again, your pupils are narrowing.

“We’re down for this time, for sure.” You speak out as your breathing returns to normal, voice a still raspy.

“How so?” Dazai asks in return, his usual smile appearing back on his face, his composure looks far better than yours, in which you poke him for.

“Kunikida was right besides us!” you keep whispering the words, trying not to raise your voice. To anyone else, you’d come off agitated however Dazai knows you by now, just a tad worried, that’s all it is. “Even if he didn’t have suspicions before, he does now. We practically handed him over the proof.”

With a sigh, you lean back and run your hands to check your clothes for any fix-ups.

In return, Dazai leans over and rests his forehead by your face. Nobody pays much attention to the tidiness of his bandages so he leaves them be.

Turning his face to yours, the smile you’ve grown to hate never falters. It’s easier to relax somehow, and if he concentrates he can smell the scent of his skin on you. “Well, it’s not like Kunikida gets a say in who we get to see off the clock,” letting out a breath, his smile softens, “does he now?”

Fumbling with your bracelet as you listen, you perk up at his words. “Dazai, these are the work hours, we are on the job right now.” He can hear the confusion in your voice, he can’t blame you for that.

You never talk about any of these, let alone further implications of whatever this is.

You just assumed it’d end as always, going back to your divided lives, pretending nothing happened.

Up until now, nothing ever happened.

For the moment, he lets you ignore his implications.

There’ll be time to talk about these later.

[raindrops-and-tubestops]

Random prompts - KyaLin: 14.  “Okay, so maybe I didn’t see that coming.”

Here you go Nonnie, I hope you enjoy! 💕

“Where is she?” Kya wasn’t wasting time.

The words were out of her mouth as soon as she ducked around the corner of the building. She crouched in front of the younger detective, waiting patiently for his his answer. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Mako looked up in surprise, trying to find a frequency but getting only static from the radio on his hip. He had been pinned down at this corner for the better part of fifteen minutes.

How in the hell had Kya managed to get through?

As if wanting to answer his question, the Master Healer leant around the wall drawing water from the pouch at her hip. With a flick of her hands, that was probably more complicated than he was able to see, she sent a torrent of water out into the skirmish. He grinned as he heard screams and what sounded like bodies thudding against the stone of the street.

Looking back at him, she winked conspiratorially.

“Mako, honey,” she tried again, her voice softer, “where is she?”

He didn’t have to question who she was talking about. He could see the worry behind the blue eyes, all though anyone else only would have seen the determination. Kya needed to get to the Chief, Mako had a bad feeling about all this.

This whole debacle started twenty minutes before the end of shift. A call came over the emergency radio at the precinct that there was an attack on the new clinic just west of the new spirit portal. The Triads were trying to make a statement to the Chief of Police as well as the rest of the city.

They were able to establish a blockade before the fighting reached the inside of the clinic. The doors, front and back were barricaded. The patients and healers inside were safe, some were out here on the front lines working to heal the fallen officers, Kya included.

Mako swallowed, his throat dry and sticky, “The last I saw her, she was swinging on her cables in that direction.”

Kya followed his finger as it pointed across the street, landing on the roof tops of the alley way directly across from them. He watched her run through some things in her mind, maybe calculating the risks of crossing through the battle raging in the street.

As they peeked around the corner, it was clear there were no signs of either side stopping. There was fire flying through the air only to be intercepted by water from an unknown source, pieces of the street and the buildings rippled as they were manipulated by earthbenders from both sides.

Metal from nearby stalls and storefronts groaned as it was manipulated by officers, quickly shaping into flat sheets, encasing the wounded or protecting those volleying off counter attacks.

If she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed the shink of cables being released from their casing and subsequently Lin swinging across the street. She came to rest on the side of the clinic, one hand wrapped around the cables imbedded in the wall and the other gripping the hand hold she created on the brick.

Kya had a momentary flashback of when they were younger and Lin used to grip the walls of the Air Temple Island dormitories in the same manner…it never failed to freak her mother out. She chuckled quietly to herself, feeling the exact moment that Mako spied the Chief as well. The metalbender seemed to be looking for something, she was scanning the foray, clearly thinking she was up high enough to not be noticed.

But someone had noticed her…someone was silently curling a water tendril along the wall, not quite touching the stone. She wouldn’t be able to feel it.

Before Kya could call out, she watched as the tendril wrapped around Lin’s ankle, the look of shock on her face would have been comical in any other circumstance. The Chief was ripped from the side of the wall, disappearing from view behind a large pile of wreckage, her cables hanging lifeless, still attached to the wall.

The next thing Mako knew Kya was running, and then he was too, trying desperately to keep up with her impressive pace. He guessed it was the adrenaline and worry that made her so reckless, but at least he was there. The waterbender was able to doge most of the attacks flung her way as she rushed towards where the Chief was last seen, but Mako did fling the occasional blast of fire, he had to make sure she stayed safe at least.

Kya rounded the side of the wreckage where they had seen Lin disappear, tripping and landing in the water spread across the ground. She managed to keep her footing and pushed off the ground with the palm of her hands. She stopped short and if he hadn’t been paying attention, Mako would have slammed into the back of her.

The Chief was on the ground, lying extremely still..too still, the only thing that kept Kya from dropping to her knees was that she could see her chest rising and falling. Slowly, but it was a win nonetheless. Next to her, with a metal spike sticking out of their chest, was the waterbender Kya assumed had ambushed Lin. They weren’t moving, not even their chest.

Mako gripped her shoulder and brought her back to herself, the surroundings coming back into focus. They sprinted the rest of the way, Kya dropping to her knees next to Lin, barely registering the sting of her battered skin or the sound of Mako dragging the body away from them.

She pulled water from the flask at her hip and began to assess the younger woman’s injuries. A dislocated shoulder, a bruise on her right cheek discoloring the skin around her scars, a possible concussion…not sure how bad that was and two cracked ribs. She would be ok.

“Thank the spirits,” Kya mumbled, hanging her head in relief,

Mako was now crouched beside her, the blue glow of the healing water casting shows on all their faces. He would scan the surrounding area and then return his gaze to Kya and the Chief every so often.

Kya released the catches of Lin’s uniform, knowing just how unamused her wife was going to be when she regained consciousness and found herself in just her uniform pants and under tank. Kya stifled the absurd laugh that bubbled up, practically choking on it.

As the water was concentrated on her left side, the ribs, Kya could feel the awareness returning to her partner, her heartbeat picking up slightly. That was all the warning she got before Lin sat up, her forehead barely missing Kya’s.

“Whoa,” Kya intoned softly, Mako behind Lin instantly, offering her support, “take it easy Chief.”

Lin winced and moved to grab her head, her shoulder and ribs protesting violently.

“What the hell happened,” she groaned.

Kya was now focused on Lin’s head, trying to relive the pressure that was causing her partner to be slightly nauseous. The healer glared at the metalbender, Mako cowered in sympathy.

“Lin, what was Aunt Suki’s main rule in combat?”

The Chief looked at Kya in confusion, whether from the change in topic or from the head injury, Mako wasn’t sure.

The glare deepened, “What was it Lin?”

The anger in Kya’s voice immediately snapped the metalbender out of her daze. They connected eyes, snapping blue to sheepish green, and Lin was reminded of all the times she had seen those eyes. Most notably when they were caught sneaking back onto the island as children and when she did something particularly stupid. Kya may have taken after Uncle Aang in the Air Nomad sense, but her temper was all Aunt Katara.

“Keep track of your surroundings,” Lin sighed as the pressure in her head finally lifted.

“Yes Lin,” Kya continued, voice hard as she moved to the shoulder, “and what didn’t you do?”

Lin followed the movements and relented, “Keep track of my surroundings.”

Mako stifled a chuckled at the clearly admonished Chief…they needed to bring in Master Kya more often he thought.

Kya huffed, “Exactly, now this is going to hurt.”

As soon as she gave the warning Lin grit her teeth, sucking in a breath as Kya quickly reset the joint. The pop making Lin sick to her stomach, the searing pain keeping her from losing it completely. The ache was soon replaced by the cool feel of the healing water, a relief that Lin didn’t know she needed.

“I had the situation under control,” she bit out.

Kya went still, eyebrow raised in a challenge, and Lin had the good sense to back down slightly.

“Before or after that waterbender plucked you off the side of the building like a ripe moon peach?”

The Chief’s cheeks colored slightly, as she looked down at her lap. She started when she realized she was no longer wearing her uniform. The glare directed towards Kya was one for the books, she was not pleased.

Kya huffed indignantly, she could really give a shit right now.

Lin leant forward, taking some of her weight off Mako as the detective went to stand. She nodded towards the boy, a quiet thanks that he returned as he settled into a cautious stance.

“Okay, so maybe I didn’t see that coming,” Lin relented.

Kya didn’t respond, just kept to her task, working to heal her wife. She was furious…and scared, Lin could sense the residual adrenaline in Kya’s system.

She inclined her head, trying to catch her wife’s eyes as she worked on the shoulder joint. When Kya finally gave in and looked up, Lin could see the sheen of tears just along the water line of her lashes. She cursed herself.

Lin leant forward and cupped the back of Kya’s head, their foreheads connecting, the air between them charged with emotion. She could feel Kya shaking, everything in the last hour finally catching up with her.

“I’m ok,” she reassured the healer, her voice gentle, “I’m sorry and I’m ok.”

Their lips met tentatively, soft at first but slowly growing desperate. The need to feel, to know that each other was alright, winning out over decorum. Mako turned slightly, giving them as much privacy as their situation could allow.

New Prompt List 💜

PS: the prompts can be original too 😊

[camslightstories]

It’s not that easy

Alex Danvers x Reader, Maggie Sawyer x Reader, Sanvers x Reader

Notes: Hey guys! How are you doing? I finally finish this request which took a lot of me but here it is. I really hope you guys like it and I’m sorry for being so inactive lately!

My inbox and messages are always welcome for everyone so just text me to chat anytime! I wanna heart your requests, opinions, theories, questions and more!

Request- anonymous

Taglist: @captain-josslett​ @aznblossom @multi-images

The Department of Extranormal Operations was often overwhelmed by silence, people knew what they had to do and they did. No one in the right mind wanted to deal with the director, Alex Danvers in any type of situation. The black lead walls made the building feel safer even though there were at least a hundred elite trained agents walking around it.

The long led lights on the roof illuminated the room. A three target sheets at the other end of the roof. Various pads around your body protect you in the training. A table in front of you with different sharp objects of all sizes.

The difficulty you had as you started to concentrate on the training after your new powers started to show up. Your mind now was invaded by thoughts that took control of you. Pressure in your mind as your telekinesis started to show up in the most unexpected moments and unfavorable moments.

Sometimes the things you wanted or thought about would land in your head or back, leaving marks or pain around your body, you remembered how you got some of them but not the others. And as one of the new recruits on the DEO instead of being on the field regularly, you were on the tech and backup side beside Winn earning the trust of the group.

Most of the time your moves were uncoordinated and clumsy and it got worse every time you would catch the side of a certain director or detective. Your focus was lost completely when you realize the couple entering the room hand by hand with Supergirl and Winn, not so long behind.

Failing to begin obviously you caught both of their glances making them smile, and when you were about to return a smile when a cup flew straight into your nose. The red liquid dripping from your nose and upper lip was now covering your hand as you clutched it in your face trying to relieve some of the pain, only making it worse as it stung.

You were so distant in what was happening in front of you, that you didn't notice when the couple ran in front of you with concerned looks on their faces. Until a soft hand caught your jaw tilting it up carefully as they watched the wound. You stood in shock as you felt the closeness with the director’s girlfriend, observing every small detail of the Latina.

Her brown eyes squinted in concentration, you couldn't really compare them chocolate, or your favorite espresso shot, they were hypnotizing without any other thought. She was biting the inside of her cheek, as her eyebrows came together when she focused her attention on you. Small dimple in her cheek as she focused on you, her hair dropped from her shoulders with small highlighters at the end of it. The small little freckles around her nose popped out every time she would scrunch her face in concentration. And every little detail was there, and you couldn't help but memorize them.

Your eyes turned away when you felt the first burn in your face, immediately crunching your nose as a reaction to the discomfort making the couple laugh softly. Your face had moved so fast as you heard the laugh of Alex Danvers for the first time, it was soft, addicting, and combined with her girlfriend’s laugh unforgettable.

Maggie claimed as she kept holding your face with the stuffed alcohol cotton in her hand. Her tone with gentleness and a hint of control, you didn't even protest since your focus was on hoping there was not an evident blush on your cheeks.“Y/N, you need to stop doing that adorable thing while I clean the wound up, okay?”

“Sorry” You murmured under your breath as you felt a stare, looking to your side to find the DEO director watching you intensely with a spark in her eyes. A spark you couldn't identify even if you tried, there was something odd about it. It did not hold anger, jealousy, or any negative feeling but uncertain like if she was wearing her feelings on them. You didn't even think twice before apologizing looking up to the ceiling immediately, hoping for the moment to end.

The redhead director asked when her girlfriend finished helping you. “That's it, agent Y/L/N. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, good- great. Thank you” You rambled out immediately standing straight up in front of her with difficulty as you did thanks to the various pads around you. Averting our eyes from them, only to find the superheroine and her friend containing their smiles.

Alex and Maggie looked at each other as you ran out of the situation the moment your name came out of Winn's mouth. Your blushed cheeks never disappeared as you helped the brunette man and neither did the small smile in their faces when you subconsciously would steal glances from them immediately looking down when they caught your glance.

——

The tension of the room was thick as you and the rest of the new recruits stood listening to the Director Danvers orders. Your undivided attention was on the redhead woman as she spoke, only shifting your glance when the redhead stared back at you discreetly.

Even when you tried to now lose focus when she spoke, you found yourself zoning out as you stared at her. Some of the important details remained in your head as for the rest, like when people say it ‘in one ear, and out the other’.

You found yourself being called out by the director before the rest of the recruit walked out of the briefing room, your hands fidget with themselves as you stared unsubconsciously at the redhead while she did the same. Quickly noticing the director started, your eyes widened in embarrassment for a second making her tilt her head questionably.

Adorable.

You thought and before realizing it she smiled blushing furiously at you. You started to shift in your feet when she started speaking. Her voice sounded different, it wasn't the same tone she would usually use in the agents, it had a hidden sense of corner and care and you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach as she spoke.

“I will like for you to be with me and the rest of the Supergirl team during this mission”

You stared at her wide-eyed as the words fell out of her mouth. You nodded quietly as you felt your mouth go dry, the anxiety creeping inside of you as she dismissed you. You couldn't help but deliberate on the fact that your boss and the NCPD detective are well aware of your immense crush on both of them.

Your thinking of the different excuses you could make up when they would ask about your attraction, or your falling for them was interrupted when you ended up crashing into something harshly in the training room, falling face-first into the floor. Groaning at the throb of your head, you murmured harshly to yourself. “What is next to a fucking mat?”

The moment you realized the words fell out of your lips, it was already too late. The blue mat had already hit your side. You kept silent before getting up, throwing the training mat directly into the wall in annoyance. Cursing your powers as the pain inflicted by your misunderstood words and thoughts was now getting irritating.

And certainly didn't help that you couldn't get out of your head, certain couple. Their smiles, their laughs, their little details on their expression or attitude when they are focused on something, or the way their eyes light up at the mention of motorcycles, guns, or pool.

You couldn't get enough of them. And as much as you tried and tried, falling every single time, you couldn't get them out of your head. You knew the moment they found out about your attraction to them was going to be just like the rejection in movies, you begin rejected, and get heartbroken once again.

——

Kara stood beside her sister, hands-on her belt, biting her lip in a way to suppress her smile as she looked at Winn. Winn looked at the Danvers Sisters before speaking, explaining the options for the mission without letting go the teasingly open remarks to the redhead and the Latina, every time your name would come up.

Alex would immediately blush and tell the brunette to shut up, while the Latina kept quiet, shaking her head at the group antics. Every once in a while the couple shared a knowing look with a small smile, and when they did Kara would make a teasing remark to them.

“Golly, you guys got to get your crush under control” Kara claimed quietly so only the couple could hear, ignoring the blonde both of them turned to glance at you when the Brunette technician had called you.

“It’s not that easy” both of them murmured staring at you.

You stood beside Winn as he gave you various things for the mission, a mind control shield that for you helped control somewhat your powers, which he called the ‘de-tel control’

And as the brunette technician talked to you, you felt a glance on your back. Turning around you saw the Latina and the redhead snapping their heads immediately to their side with blushed cheeks. You looked at them questionably before turning back, and as you did the faint whispered from Kara caught your attention “And you say I'm the oblivious one”

Ignoring it, you kept your attention on the technician explaining what you were going to have during the mission. But a certain gut feeling didn't let you understand half of what Winn had said.

——

You stood beside Kara in front of the warehouse door, your hand reaching for the alien gun, Winn had given you under restricted rules. The heroine scanned the place only to shake her head because of the lead walls, while you stood at her side listening to Winn through the comms explaining what the scans signals were giving out.

The moment the blonde gave you the first sign to move inside with her you activated the ‘de-tel control’ at the side of your head. A small beeping sound invaded your ear, coming directly from the shield, ignoring it you kept registering the place with precaution. When the couple announced in your ear that they had arrived you couldn’t help but smile as the two sisters annoyed each other.

Neither of you guys could find something in the Warehouse after checking the place. The Director of the DEO looked annoyed as she spoke in her earpiece directly to the technician while Kara and Maggie wandered around checking everything again. You stood at the side scratching your head as the throbbing pain in your head began to fill in.

You kept quiet as the frustration began to fill you, with the pain in your head it felt almost impossible to concentrate on the mission. Walking to one of the sides of the warehouse where lines of shelves were, you stared at a solemnly black box on the first shelf, and as you did the pain on your head increased.

The pressure of the shield didn’t really help, it felt like someone was pressing a gun to your head and the frustration didn’t really help. You were about to take the thing off when the red-headed Danvers appeared at your side, a hidden smile in her face as she talked to you, rambled to you specifically.

“Y/N, how are you feeling? It seems as we arrived too late, but Winn is running more scanners to determine if there is something we missed, it's really nice-...great for you to work with us, Agent Y/L/N”

Kara and Maggie staring at the two of you curiously with a small smirk and a beaming smile. Both of them frowning seconds after as they stared at you worriedly. You were about to ask for the sudden change when the racking pain overwhelmed your head, you didn’t register the moment you felt into your knees crying at the ripping pain.

You felt as if you were underwater as the oxygen inside of you started to leave your system. You hear the familiar voices distantly, so far away to reach for help. Your vision went blurry as you felt your body giving in.

Alex had knelt down next to you, calling your name out various times. Her hands went to grab yours as you gripped tightly your hair, crying out of pain.

The redhead didn’t register the moment her girlfriend and sister stood beside her with the same worried expressions. Kara stared at your hands carefully as Maggie and Alex tried to make you let you as you hurled yourself unconsciously. Noticing the beeping light at the side of the device on your temple, she didn’t hesitate to take it out as fast as she could without hurting you further.

The pain had slowly calmed down, the beeping sound on your ear now stronger than ever made you turn to where the black box stood. Your mind seemed to concentrate on the box and the sound, you couldn’t hear what they were saying, somehow the pain had gone away but the feeling of being underwater stood stronger than ever.

The black box flight directly into the wall cracking it open revealing the items inside, the heroine immediately determined the same beeping sound before yelling into her comms. “We have a bomb, Winn!”

The blurred voice through the comms invaded your ears “That’s what triggered the device and Y/N pain! You guys need to get Y/N out of there now!”

“I can turn it off, get Y/N out of here” Kara claimed to look at the couple.

You felt two arms lifting you up in bride style before you felt the exhausting feeling gaining over you, everything seemed to barge in your senses before your blurred vision became black.

——

Alex and Maggie sat at the chairs beside your bed. Worry expressions on their faces as they did. The med bay had been cleared out by the Director the moment they arrived, the redhead with you unconscious in her arms walked in, immediately checking you herself. Kara had arrived shortly after, stopping Winn from coming into the room and explaining what had happened to you.

The blonde knew the moment her friend would walk in saying he may have not tested your shield and didn’t think of protection against bombs, the least he was going to receive from the couple was a punch or maybe two.

And even after all she couldn’t help but smile at the crushing of the couple, it had been a few weeks since they had revealed it to her and she has been teasing them nonstop. With their nonstop talking about you, the social media stalking, the long looks, and the special caring treatment they would give you every time you were around.

Alex and Maggie both looked like kicked puppies staring at you with worry and nervousness as laid on the hospital bed wired into various machines. Neither of them had left your side after 36 hours of you being out.

The first thing you registered as you slowly opened your eyes was the bright white light on top of you, and the thirstiness on your throat. Sitting up still adjusting to your surroundings you reached for a table, wanting to drink water.

You didn’t register the couple on the chairs until the cup of water on the table was brought out without the right instruction, showering all of your head with it.

You cursed without thinking when you started to rub your eyes only to be cut off when a teasing voice made you know you had actually said it. “Fucking-”

“I had no idea someone could sound so adorable cursing” The Latina woman claimed with Alex by her side.

You blushed before clearing your throat trying to hide your embarrassment as you spoke. “Hey”

“How are you feeling? We have been worried sick” The redhead said as she grabbed your hand carefully, scared of you pulling away.

“I’m...” You started only to stop when the Latina grabbed your left hand, in the same way, her girlfriend had done.

“Great, good, amazing” You stumbled in your words as the butterflies in your stomach began to move rapidly, so fast you felt your heart on your ear, and by the looks, on their faces, they had registered by the rapid beeping of the monitor.

——

You walked down the hallway a few hours later with the basic sweats from the DEO. The butterflies in your stomach hadn’t left since the bed moment with your crushes and certainly didn’t help the fact that every time you would look at them, they seem to increase.

The loose grey sweatshirt helped you hide your hands in the long sleeves, as you walked anxiously out of the med bay. But before you could go downstairs to grab your things and go home for the ‘rest’ you needed which Alex had ordered. Two voices behind you made you turn out as fast as you could.

“Y/N!”

With your heart in your sleeve, and the anxiety in your chest you gave the couple a small smile before speaking, a tone higher than your regular voice. “Hey guys”

The two of them furrowed their eyes before shaking their heads simultaneously, you looked at them worriedly only for them to reassure you with smiles. Before anything else could happen Maggie spoke up, fidgeting with her hands as she did.

“Y/N, we like you… like a lot and we were wondering if-”

Finished Director Danvers “You would let us take you on a date?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and your cheeks blushed completely as you stared at them lost of words. The couple shifted in their feet awkwardly waiting for your response, as you kept quiet the Danvers woman started to speak again nervously looking at you.

“And if you don’t, then that's completely fine. We understand and we never wished-”

Cutting the redhead speech you beamingly smile at them. “YES!”

You cleared your throat as you watched them giggled at your response before straightening your back before responding again. “I would love to, I mean”

They nodded and told you, they would pick you up by 7 at your apartment. You walked away almost bouncing in your with butterflies moving incredibly fast in your stomach and your ears full of your beating heartbeat.

And without any surprise, months after you couldn’t help but fall more in love with your girlfriends. And somehow the strong ear-filling heartbeat and the butterflies on your stomach never left.

[helloprettybb]

first

I feel like I start every fic that I make after a long break the same way. But, I’m back for now. I’m always active on Tumblr, but I never have the motivation to write a full fic. This is Peter Parker x reader and both of them are 18. This may or may not be “inspired by true events.” Also, I apologize for anytime I wrote, “fighting for dominance,” during a kissing scene.

warnings- first kiss awkwardness, cursing, low-key smut, hickey, intense kissing lol, feeling and stuff, choking, CHOKE ME LIKE YOU HATE ME

summary- when peter finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet, he decides to help out... as a friend, of course.

word count- 1.8k

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, not even looking up from his computer. After your second dramatic sigh, Peter finally spared you his attention. 

“Just thinking,” you respond vaguely. You’re laying on Peter’s bed, staring at his ceiling.

“Thinking about what?” you tilt your head to see that Peter is still typing on his computer. You roll your eyes at his absentmindedness.

“How in a couple of months I’ll be in college and still haven’t had my first kiss yet.” you admit. At eighteen years old, you’ve never kissed anyone. Unlike everyone else who had their first kiss in middle school, you missed out on that. Granted, you were never asked out or invited to any parties, but you should have kissed someone by now.

This new information finally makes Peter close his laptop. “You haven’t had your first kiss?”

You sit up so you can face him. “I know it’s embarrassing. But no, I’ve never had my first kiss.”

Peter wheels his chair toward you. “Well, I promise you it’s not embarrassing.” he assures. “Some people might find it adorable.” 

You laugh, “Adorable? I think it’s stupid.” you flop onto his bed again, “I’m just a pathetic virgin.”

“Hey, you’re not a pathetic virgin.” Peter responds. You sit up on your elbows to glare at him. “You just don’t have much experience. That’s fine. Cool even.” he adds awkwardly.

“It’s not cool or adorable. It’s so lame. At this point, I just want to get it over with.” you confess. 

Peter furrows his eyebrows, “Get it over with?”

“Yeah, I don’t want it to mean anything. I’ve waited this long and the longer I wait, the more anticipation will build up. I just need to do it so I won’t have to think about it anymore.” You ramble. Peter looks confused, so you ask, “What?”

“You uh, want to get it over with?” he asks. Peter moves from his desk chair to sit beside you on the bed.

“Yes?” you reply, wondering where he’s going with this.

“What if...” Peter looks away like he’s trying to find the right words. His voice drops and he mumbles, “I kiss you so you can get it over with.” Luckily, you’ve dealt with Peter and his mumbling for years so you heard what he said.

“You’ll kiss me?” you ask, disbelief laced in your voice.  Peter Parker, your best friend of seven years, is willing to kiss you just because. 

“Yeah, I mean if you want. We don’t have to. It’s just that you said you wanted to get it over with and that it’s been on your mind. So if we kissed, you wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. But I also get how you’d want to have your first kiss with someone you like,” Peter rambles. He averts his eyes as he rambles, having them go everywhere but meet your face.

“Peter,” you say to interrupt his muttering. “That’s fine.”

“It is?” he asks, still nervous.

“Yeah. I trust you and we’re friends, so it won’t be weird.” you reason.

“Okay, okay.” Peter nods. After his agreement, the room fills with awkwardness. Neither of you knows what to do or how to start. The two of you avoid eye contact with each other for almost a minute. You’re about to say something when you look up and see that Peter is moving in.

You have barely enough time to prepare before his lips are meeting yours. Internally, you scream seeing as you’re having your first kiss with Peter Parker and it’s good! You were so caught off guard that your arms are frozen to your sides. You pull away a little and ask Peter, “Uh, what do I do with my hands?”

“Just put them anywhere,” he replies. You awkwardly place your left arm around his shoulder and your right hand lands at the base of his neck. Peter leans in again and this time you’re more ready. This time when your lips meet, it feels like heaven. Peter’s slow and sweet given that it’s your first kiss. He doesn’t go too fast, only occasionally sucking at your lip. He slowly incorporates his tongue and you let out a moan. You would be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so perfect.

Peter’s left hand, which was previously resting on your cheek, moves to lightly trace your chin. You feel him increase the speed and pressure subtly. You don’t mind as you try to keep up, but concede and let him guide you. Before you could lean more into the kiss, he pulls away. He looks at you like he’s expecting you to say something.

“Thanks?” you state almost like a question. 

Peter chuckles awkwardly and asks, “Thanks? That’s it?” You lightly slap his arm as he laughs at your embarrassment. 

“You know I’m terrible at reacting!” you exclaim. Never have you been so annoyed at your inability to give reactions. 

As if he could sense your embarrassment, Peter adds, “Well, you’re actually better than most people.” Surprisingly, you have a reaction at that.

“Really?” you ask incredulously.

“Yeah. The first time I kissed MJ, she ran into me and we hit teeth.” Peter admits and you laugh. He joins in and the lust almost leaves the atmosphere. Then the laughter dies down and an air of confusion fills the room. 

You want to ask if you can kiss again, but Peter answers your question when he leans in. You have barely enough time to resume the awkward hand position before you meet his lips. He starts off a little more passionately than before and you wonder if he’s enjoying it as much as you. Peter’s hand moves to the back of your neck. He parts slightly, but still close enough where you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“I want to try something,” he whispers. Before you could ask, his mouth trails down your cheek and to the side of your neck. He plants light kisses on your neck and you remember your cousin’s wedding is tomorrow.

“You know, I have to show my neck tomorrow,” you let out breathily. Trying to prevent your worries from overshadowing the moment. 

“No marks,” Peter whispers against your neck. He gives a couple of light kisses before adding, “Unless you want one.” You’re not going to have your first kiss and not get a hickey.

“Okay, just under my shirt,” you reply. Peter doesn’t say anything, but you feel him play with the collar of your shirt. You didn’t choose the most flexible shirt to wear, but then again, you didn’t plan on kissing Peter Parker when you woke up today. 

You feel him gently tug your collar down before placing lips below your collarbone. He begins to suck and you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You try to card your fingers through his hair, but it’s too short so you settle with caressing the back of his head. Peter doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to give you a hickey.

Once he finishes, Peter pulls away slightly to look at you. Not wanting to be trapped in a weird conversation, you take initiative and put him towards you. Peter’s lips meet yours and you passionately make out. His right hand moves from your chin to the back of your head. He moves his fingers into your hair and gently tugs. To your disappointment, he only does that once before moving back to cup your chin. His left hand lightly trails the side of your neck. You continue to kiss as you feel his hand slowly make its way around your neck. He gives a tentative squeeze and you sigh lightly. You never thought you’d be into choking, but today you were learning wildly new things about yourself.

Peter tries again, but for a couple more seconds and you let out another breathy sigh. He releases his grip before tightening around your neck. This time, Peter keeps his hand there until you feel a euphoric lightheadedness. Peter chokes you a couple more times, with you moaning loudly frequently. You begin to worry that you’re the only one making noise, but Peter starts groaning against your lips. 

You feel your nerves building and insecurities piling so you focus on Peter and his essence. His faint cologne and the light taste of coffee distract you from any concerns you previously had. You think that you have the lead so you pull him closer to you. But once he feels your eagerness, Peter responds quickly by pinning you to the wall. You tilt your head back as he passionately kisses you with a couple of bites in between. Your lip is probably fucked, but you love it. 

You feel Peter’s right hand travel down while his left remains under your chin. It rests at your lower back for a moment before going beneath your shirt. His gentle touch sends a chill down your spine as he rubs circles on your lower back.  He stays there for seconds or maybe minutes. Ever since the first kiss, you have had a skewed sense of time.

Peter’s hand moves from your back to the front of your body. It snakes under your bra and you feel him flick your nipple. You gasp at the feeling and he continues to play with your tit. You’ve never been so relieved that May is away as the room fills with lewd sounds from both of you. 

Peter retracts his hand from underneath your shirt and returns to your lower back. You think he’s going to move back to your neck, but his hand goes down to your ass. He cups it and you both moan. 

You think he’s going to stop at your ass, but you feel his hand smooth over your jeans and end at your inner thigh. He gives a light squeeze before pulling apart and asking, “Do you want me to?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out, sounding and looking like a mess, but you don’t care. Peter Parker wanted you and right now, you wanted him, too. After you gave him the word, Peter quickly undid your jeans and dipped his hands until his fingers met your clit. You gasped when he started rubbing gentle circles. 

Peter cupped your face with his other hand as he continues to play with your clit.  You felt him pull away and open your eyes. You make eye contact with Peter and he starts rubbing your clit faster. Before you could moan too loud, you pull him back to your lips to quiet yourself. 

Peter and your groans fill the room as you feel your climax growing. Your head falls onto his left shoulder as you grip Peter’s bicep. Sensing your desperation, he whispers, “I know you’re close, baby. Cum for me.” 

“Fuck,” you gasp when you cum. Peter rides you through your orgasm, before pulling his hands out of your pants. 

As you zip your jeans, Peter asks, “Was that okay?”

[kazuhasbunny]

Giiiirl, imagine you are on Baal's side, you are a general and commanding an army against the rebels' own general, Gorou.

You are all cocky and confident, your years of experience just keeping you aware enough so you won't be consumed by your pride. But oh, your face, when after all of those carefully thought out strategies and intensive training, you end up losing to that mutt.

He is insufferable. Even though his face and body is caked in a mixture only war can give-- blood, sweat and dirt, his smile is the biggest, smuggest thing you have ever seen in your life as a warrior. It does not help that you are on your knees, back stretching forward as the grip he has on your jaw tugs you up with such a force you won't ever believe an archer, a long distance fighter, would posses. The bodies of both sides lay scattered on the defiled land, but the purple spots decorate the most, as his last men stand straight and proud behind him, just as yours do, but the lack the attentiveness. Their tired and bored countenance ticks you in a wrong way. Why they don't look happy by this result?

Does your failure was already predicted? As if this end was something that was already calculated. Taken in account.

The man holding your jaw in a bruising grip let go of you, a mere blink of respite as the next second your left cheek explodes in pain, your vision swaggers for a second as you fall on your right side from the streght of that blow. You shut your eyes and concentrate on your breathing; the fight left you completely drained, as much as your brain screamed at you to stand up and attack that man, your bones and muscles protested as you tensed in hopes of getting up, but ultimately you only made yourself look pitiful.

Gorou turns to were his men are, his gaze lingering for a second on your laughable attempt. His focus switches to the army as he starts to pace from one side to the other, the victory was already decided, but the energy from the feat itself brought a surge of emotions within him.

Another quick glance at you, and something on his mind switched. He was wondering what to do with you; killing you off felt as a meaningless action, as the Shogun won't care for someone as low as yourself. You only were deployed to fight against them to gain time for the real force, to prepare and learn how strong the rebels actually are. With how confident you looked hours ago, it seems that your benevolent Shogun forgot to grace you with such knowledge before sending you off with a bunch of newly trainees.

"First of all, congratulations, my friends, for this well earned victory" Gorou began. The group of men on front of him quickly acknowledge his words, paying attention to what he had to say.

"Even if the outcome resulted as to what we--" He turns around, your eyes opened when he began speaking. You both made eye contact, and Gorou's smirk transformed into a full smile. Was it okay for him to fill such giddiness at the sight of your equally wounded pride and body? After all, he was the one to bring you into that state, he was the one to put you in your rightful place with just one arrow, kneeling on the dirty battlefield as the geo power incased on the arrowhead did its job in petrify you.

The glint of defeat on, dare he say, those gorgeous eyes of yours really made them stand out. Actually, as he approaches your form, he's starting to see some other appealing features he couldn't notice from a longer distance. What was the Shogun thinking, in even allowing you a spot within her number when you clearly weren't made for war?

"--Expected" his pause brought your attention to what he was actually saying. So they had all of this calculated...

"But now, all that is left to do, is tend to the wounded and take care of the dead. Yours and their sacrifice will bring an end to this stupid decree in no time. We need to prepare for tougher, real..." He gives you a glance "...battles from now on. Don't let this win get in your head"

The crowd quietly cheers between them, some of them patting each other on the shoulder for a job well done. All of that camaraderie made your stomach hollow, as you recognise the same speech you have told to your former men after a battle well fought. Those piercing blue eyes of his made you painfully aware of the consecutive part of giving a victory speech, about what is waiting for the losing side, the pit in your stomach grew in size and you really wished that it could swallow you whole before the man in front of you does.

Gorou thrills in your despair. That pretty face of yours plunging into dark dephts, your mind weaving one horrifying destiny after other speaks a lot of your character, as only those who have layed a cruel end to those before them can conceive. He knows what kind of thoughts those are, but as much of a monster as you are viewing him now, he won't do such a thing. He was quite merciful while deciding what your fate will be, even if he didn't pondered a lot in the few minutes after your fall, you are but only a child with a weapon, sent to die by that horrible woman.

And something he prides himself of, is learning from mistakes. He won't throw away something that can fulfill very well other duties than warfare ones.

"Sir! If I may--" a voice spoke between the masses of helms and spears.

"I know, I know. The general" Gorou waves off his hand, his eyes never stranding away from your form for far too long.

A groan escapes your body as his foot steps on your ribcage, not too hard but your weak body sense as if he had nails attached to the sole, your skin felt cold and as if it was being prickled by a ton of needles. He pushes your your body with a gentleness unexpected from an enemy, until you were lying on your back. The new position put pressure in the arrow wound on your right/left shoulder, your dominant arm, and for a second you were grateful of the rigidness granted by the geo element yet covering half of your arm or else you are sure you would have cried in pain, the last thing you want now is to show more weakness that what you are displaying.

"What I am going to do with her... I didn't know myself when we first begun this battle" Gorou continued. He removed his shoe from your chest to your side on the floor, so you'll be cage between his legs while he looks down on you. His arms crossed across his chest and he tilted his head to the side, as in assessing you, taking on your face just as covered in grime as his but not diminish your beauty in the slightest. He really made a good decision in regard of your fate.

The soldiers stood still, the atmosphere felt heavy like the air on a hot summer afternoon that feels stuffy on your lungs as your breath in. Their general had an unseen aura surrounding him, his usual careless actitud makes everyone forget that there's an animal side to him, although they aren't sure they will presence it for the first time, their captain is definitely switching towards that side... they even feel a little bit of pity for the woman under him.

"But as I see her like this, beaten, it makes me remember something of old, that the victorous usually sow. Can you guys guess what it is?" He squats over you, sweetly combing a couple of strands of hair out of your face.

Whispers break among the army after the question. One of them raised his hand, no barely 18 years old as he was one of the shortest in comparison to his bigger and wider shouldered comrades. The young recruit promptly lowered his arm as the general wasn't looking at their direction but that didn't stopped him from answering, eyes shining with excitement:

"They take something as a token of their victory, sir!"

Gorou hummed in affirmation. "Yes, they did. A spoil of war, if you may"

Dread washed over you. He wasn't going to kill you, as a way to demonstrate their superiority? To be taken as a trophy, a possession... He surely won't mean that, right? They are going to torture you and extract every drop of information that you have, until the last thing left in you is blood to shed on their hands as your usefulness is cut short like your troath.

You needed to say something. Anything, as long as it would arise anger within the young male, anything as long as you aren't degrade far from what you have been.

Gorou raised his eyebrows as you coughed. He wasn't expecting a monologue from you but neither silence. Your sudden wish of speaking made the men jump into action, their spears pointing at you with such terrifying speed made you realise furthermore that this battle was destined to end like this, another stripe to the tiger just like a new blow to your pride.

"Just kill me already. I won't say anything, and if given the opportunity, I will end it myself" you spat. You tried to transmit all of your pain, hate and shame in one stare, you won't go happy until you make that man see what you feel, how big your abhorrence is to his being.

All the males stare in silence, until the general himself chuckled. Your cheeks burn with rage, your teeth clenched together as you tried yo surf this flare of emotions. How dare he laugh like that! He already won and you won't speak a thing about the Shogun, why acting like that? Isn't the rebels supposed to act with nobility and fairness?

Gorou took a breath in. He's happy he didn't went for the traditional route and killed you.

"Aw, now you just proved me correct, sweetheart. I'll enjoy making you into a proper wife"

All of that just to say "Imagine being taken as Gorou's prize and he makes you his whore wife" LMAO

(Also? In the part that reader coughs? I wanted to put that Gorou spits on your lips because you looked thirsty AODJFJDC)

THIS 🙏 yes i’d love to be gorou’s housewife he should really take me in and train me to obey him . please i’d do anything for him

AND pleasee omg ... if u actually put that in i’d die on my chair it’s too hot i can’t hjnhnggrh