#i want to squeeze that living pile of salt

[r-aindr0p]

Sorry for the spam I thought I was done with the Rollo shitposts for a few days until I read chapter 4 of the event but no chapter 3 had shitpost material, he’s so salty and just suddenly has a burst of empathy, bro you ok ?

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 7

Velkommen Til Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Loki and Thor take you to see the new King of Asgard in the hopes of finding more answers. Charmed by the quaint village and welcoming Asgardians you dream of a better future there. But not everyone is friendly and they're certainly not safe.

Warnings: mostly fluffy...mind the ending. Family drama, talk of forced marriage/marriage of convenience and Reader's family. Implied sexual content, implied loss of virginity.

A/N: From here on in there's going to be talk of other panethons,specifically from Irish mythology, so I'll put a little info at the bottom of the chapter if you're interested! Other mythologies will be depicted in the same way Loki & the Asgardians are in Marvel and the MCU. This is very much a fictionalised account, although there are, like in the MCU, elements of the original stories. You don't have to read about them, but I've tried hard to embed a lot of mythology into the story so although it's easily readable without it, I think it's more fun if you know!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

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“So you met a woman who can set fire to stuff, makes everyone around her horny and you’ve let him,” the woman pointed at Loki, “teach her to shift and mind read?” She walked around the coffee table in the middle of the cosy living room, keeping her eyes trained on your face as if you might drag the crackling fire out of the hearth and set fire to her sofa.

“Yes - But, in my defence, she could already do a lot of it and it wasn’t my idea.” Thor gave her a massive grin, taking a butter cookie from the plate in front of him while she flopped onto the chair opposite you. 

“I’m -” you paused, unsure of what to call yourself. No one had really addressed you since you arrived at the compound, should you use the name you’d discovered with Loki? When you’d dreamed of Asgard together? Or should you use your old name, the one your Grandfather gave you? 

“This is Estrid.” Loki took the decision out of your hands, and you were grateful for it, leaning into his side a little for reassurance while he patted your knee. 

She took your hand in both of hers and gave them a firm squeeze, her palms were soft, but there were calluses below her fingers that told you there was more to her than the oversized jumper, piles of books and well stocked bar cart could tell you. 

“I’m Brunnhilde,” Brunnhilde gave you a warm smile, far more comforting than you’d expected when Thor had described the warrior on your journey to Tønsberg. He’d described the fights they’d engaged in together, her bravery during Ragnarok and her ability to lead as a fair and firm King for the new Asgardian settlement. He talked about her armour and weapons, whirling his hands around as he acted out his favourite moments from the final battle. Loki had rolled his eyes and told you that she was a skilled and proficient fighter and a sensible leader, despite Thor’s terrible caricature. 

The woman before you looked softer than their stories, she was wearing an oversized knitted sweater that hung down to her thighs over tight black jeans, her hair was styled in long braids that fell over her shoulders and she fiddled with the end of one as she continued to watch you. 

“Valkyrie,” Thor insisted through a mouthful of biscuit. But Brunnhilde, just rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and gave you a knowing smile, as if the antics of gods were commonplace in her life. 

“You can call me Brunnhilde or Valkyrie, Val, if you like,” she had an easy manner of speaking, relaxed and welcoming, in keeping with the homey warmth of her cottage and she pushed the plate of food towards you. “Do you want to tell me about these dreams?”

The hesitancy you felt on arriving in the little fishing village began to melt away. Initially you’d been overwhelmed by the crisp, salt scent of the sea and the shock of the cold. But here, in the stone house nestled in the centre of the village, you felt at ease and allowed yourself to relax into the cushions. The atmosphere that had been so shockingly different on arrival was now settling inside of you, the clean smell sea smell of the harbour mixing with the woodsmoke in the village was familiar somehow. 

You’d arrived in the dead of night while the village was asleep, tucked into the hillside with only a few lights along the dock still bright. The sea had called to you then, a wild thing that beat against the boats and rattled the stones of the shoreline until you were on the edge of the dock, leaning over into the abyss of darkness. 

Loki had pulled you away and wrapped your frozen hands in his own while Thor had looked on, a knowing smile spreading across his face. But you allowed Loki to pull you close, snaking your arms around his waist and tucking yourself half inside his black wool coat. He rubbed his hands up and down your back to warm you, the press of his fingers turning into the weight of your own coat as Loki’s magic flickered over you. 

You’d stood together for what felt like forever and yet not enough time at all, bathing in the darkness and the rhythmic sound of the sea as it crested and crashed on the harbour wall. 

Thor was intrigued by Loki’s behaviour, he’d never seen him act in such a controlled and measured way, nor had he seen him spend more than a few days with any consort since their adolescent years in Asgard. 

He was starting to think this was some sort of elaborate courtship that his brother had thought up, for once he decided he would forgo the teasing, happy to see his brother with a partner he actually approved of, and had left you in the cold air, wrapped together under Loki’s coat. 

Your mind had wandered, rubbing your thumb over Loki’s cool palm, and felt his own relaxed thoughts wash over you, your cheek touched his shoulder and he lifted his arm to tuck you into his side, the movement unconsciously casual and comforting. 

“Are you okay, Estrid?” The Valkyrie’s voice called to you through the memory and you sat upright again with a start. “I think I do remember you - hmm,” she paused and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re Brigid’s daughter? Right? I remember your mother, I was assigned to her guard a few times when she visited Queen Frigga.”

Her words raised goosebumps on your skin, a mother? Without thinking you grabbed at Val’s hands, pulling her to the edge of her own seat so that you could study her face, waiting for her to reveal a lie or a joke. “Show me, can I see? Please,” you begged, eyes filling with tears. 

 Brunnhilde flicked her dark eyes at Thor, hesitating, she had been King of the Asgardians for only a short time and although Thor was more like a brother to her now, she didn’t want to upset either Prince by revealing too many of Asgard’s secrets. 

You hadn’t noticed her hesitation, your only thoughts on seeing your forgotten mother again. “I don’t remember my mother at all. What was she like?” You asked, looking around the room to see if any of them would be willing to share. 

Loki, surprisingly, looked at Thor as well, a silent conversation passing between the two brothers before Thor answered. 

“I don’t see the harm, after all we brought her here to learn, if this is what she requires then she should hear it.” He said, already a little bored and messing with the trinkets on the shelf beside him, hadn’t he differed his responsibilities to Valkyrie for this exact reason?

Brunnhilde leant forward and, with some encouragement from Loki, you met her halfway, your fingers hovering over her temples. “I promise I’ll just look at my mother. Just think about her a lot, when you worked for her, what you saw.”

Loki’s hand found your knee and squeezed, “Remember, Asynja, calm." You concentrated on his breathing, on his scent, on the feel of his trousers below your own hand and closed your eyes. 

She appeared out of the gloom, a tall woman with fiery red hair in a mass of curls flowing down her back. Her clothes reminded you of your dreams, airy and bright. She had a gold crown on her head adorned with gemstone flowers, tulips, daffodils and snowdrops mixed with clover and daisies. On her back a sage green Cape trailed behind her and from one corner peaked a little face. 

“My baby, you stay in there, safe and sound,” her voice was like warm salted caramel, sweet, burning with love and measured by her strength. A fierceness behind it that would surely scald anyone coming too close. Behind her strode the Valkyrie in their armour, as they marched through the corridors of Asgard to Frigga’s chambers.

Once inside the luxurious chambers, a little face peaked out again.

“Mother?”

“It is safe, Estrid. You may come out. This is my friend, Queen Frigga. You are to stay with her a while.” The other woman held out her hand, her fingers adorned with all manner of shining gems and opaque turquoise, her hair flowed from a golden diadem, but she was dressed casually in a sky blue dress, draped around her shoulders and elbows. A Queen, yes, but a mother also. 

“Estrid, you  very welcome here in Asgard. May I present my son, Loki. He has similar talents. Perhaps he could show you the palace.” A shaggy head of black hair peered around Frigga’s legs. “I have another son, Thor, but my dear Brigid tells me that you love to read and walk, rather than fight and wrestle,” she paused, tugging Loki forward, and bent between you both, “my darling Loki can show you his library, he will be sure to share.” She gave Loki a little nudge forward and dipped her chin at him. 

With practised steps he moved towards the little girl, “Princess” he bowed, formally, looking back up at his mother for approval. Frigga patted the boy on the shoulder and he hid behind her skirts again. 

“Prince," you gave a shy curtsy, holding the folds of your elaborate dress as you moved, your memories drifted towards him and away from your parents. Your juvenile conversations floating through lazy mornings within his library, giggling together while you spied on the court from the gallery. The clothes that Loki had created for you with a glimmer of magic so that you could climb the same trees and tumble down the same hills, splashing together in the fountains of the gardens until his governess chased you back into the palace.

Your small hands clasped together as he walked you through the halls of Asgard, the sheen of sweat on his brow when you ran together through the gardens, hazy and warm and glittering with gold it morphed into a lazy dream, full of clouds and the endless sky and…

The dream faded and Val pulled away.

“You’re distracted.” She looked at Loki and narrowed her eyes. “Loki was very important to you back then, and I see that he still is," she gave Loki a sly smile, “but he’s distracting you. Bugger off and annoy someone else please." She waved the two princes away. 

Loki kissed your hand and stood to walk out with Thor. He had the same shy, boyish smile that you'd seen in your memory. The one that had made you feel welcome and at peace. He lingered, unsure about whether he could push his affection further than a kiss on the cheek. You hadn’t discussed your evening together, but he longed to keep you in his arms. Meeting his eyes you allowed your mind to wander to his and he bent over you on the sofa, his hands either side of your head, and lowered his face to yours. Brushing his nose against your cheek he kissed you softly. 

“I’ll come for you? I can show you the people." He suggested, “I’ll meet you at the harbour when you’re finished.”

“They’re my people now, don’t forget!” Brunnhilde called after him.

“How could I!” He bowed low, “my Queen." His tone was filled with sarcasm as well as mirth. With a final wink Thor pulled him out of the door.

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes and then turned her attention back to the tea tray, pouring a cup for you both. She settled back into her chair and tucked her feet up under her. 

“Brigid was a wonderful Goddess, a Queen herself really, but here on Midgard,” Val took a deep breath and sighed it out, “she made the flames dance, brought the spring and the flowers, and protected the land during winter. She took care with all her subjects and friends, her matchmaking skills, in particular,  were something to behold. She helped Frigga and Odin in their early courtship and had many friends across the nine realms and the Otherworld.” Brunnhilde stopped to look at you, your wide eyes glistening as you listened. “Is this bringing any memories back?” She dunked a biscuit into her tea and watched you as she ate. 

“Yes, a little.” A tear started to fall slowly down your cheek, pooling on your lip, a bittersweet taste of a grief and longing you still couldn't truly comprehend, couldn’t even remember. “She had a cloak,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I always felt so safe in there.”

“That’s because it was safe, it created a protection around those who wore it, or who were under it. She used it to protect the land during winter, but when she had to hide you it worked for you too.”

“Did she hide me here? Is that why I don’t remember?” 

“Oh no, she used to hide you on Asgard, mostly, but you visited other realms too.” 

“So is she still hiding in it? Is that why we’re not together?”

Brunnhilde reached out and patted your arm, “no, she’s not hiding in it. I’m sorry to tell you, she died, and she took all of her magic and secrets with her. The cloak was never Asgardian to begin with, so we couldn't have looked for it, though Frigga tried. It's been lost for a long time, but I'd bet if it's anywhere, it's here on Midgard, waiting for you." 

You nodded, contemplating the possibility that it may be out there and, if it was, it was yours now. A Goddess’ cloak. 

Just the thought of it made you feel dizzy. You sipped your tea, allowing the warmth of it to spread through you before you built the courage to ask your next question. 

“How did she die?” The question squeaked out of you, barely a whisper, and you found yourself curling into the cushions of the sofa as you spoke. 

“I wish I knew." Brunnhilde looked sincere and you could feel the sorrow radiating from her as her eyes misted, "she brought you back to Asgard many times, sometimes she would stay and you would holiday around the city, sometimes she would leave you under the Queen’s care. The last time you visited you were just of age, celebrating your birthday and looking forward to your ascension. She left to speak to a potential suitor in Vanaheim, your mother and Frigga had many friends there, and together they sought someone who could match your spirit, but provide you protection, a good match." 

"A good match?" 

"I know it's a lot to take in, but you were, are, a very important child not just to your mother, but to us all. Children are rare in the Nine Realms, especially among the Aesir, skilled children are rarer." 

"Skilled?"

"Your magic. When you first came to Asgard you were wild and untamed. Frigga helped you to channel your energy and taught you alongside her own sons. I believe Loki is helping you again now, but there was a time you trained together. And that kind of magic, in the hands of the wrong realm, the wrong husband. It could've been catastrophic." 

"Husband, why would I have to have a husband?!" You were incensed, "why couldn't I just train and be by myself." 

"It was a difficult time for the Nine Realms, for us all, a time of change. But you were as angry then as you are now, I’m pleased to see you haven’t lost any of your fire.” Angry as you were, you could see that Brunnhilde was telling the truth, and there was no teasing or malice in the way she looked at you. 

The King sat her cup down an came to sit beside you, bringing your hand up to the side of her face, she opened her memories again. 

You were sat in Frigga’s private chambers, a fire glowing in the grate, wine, fruit and bread on the table. Frigga held you close, patting your hair and singing a soft lullaby.

“My dear, you are still so young to lose a mother and we will always be here for you. But you must listen to the wishes of your court, and of your King at least consider his plans. A chaperone and entourage are being sent to take you home.”

“I won’t go with them, I barely know him. Why won’t Odin let me stay?” You sobbed. 

“He will not overrule your father. There will be a ball for you, and then your Father will come and collect you. I imagine you will be introduced to your betrothed and then your ascension will begin, you will be crowned and named to solidify your position."

Brunnhilde pulled away, she was unsure of how the evening played out any further, you had fled the room and not returned. Frigga had asked her to look for you when your maids said you were not in your bed. The Valkyrie had assumed you remained in the castle, but to no avail. To Brunnhilde’s knowledge you had hidden yourself all night, returning in the morning in sodden clothes, covered in soil and grass, and had assumed you’d spent the night in the gardens, perhaps sleeping in one of the follies scattered around the hedges. 

You slid back against the sofa cushions, lost in your own memory, eyes shut but twitching as if in deep sleep. Brunnhilde draped a blanket over your lap and propped your head onto a cushion, leaving you to your memories. 

You stood, tossing aside the blankets and sheets and carefully opened the doors of your balcony. Long since a trellis had been built into the stone wall outside and you used it, as always, to climb down from your rooms into the quiet of the gardens. Out in the night, the lanterns led the way slowly fading as you moved further from the safety of the palace until you were in darkness surrounded by the trees at the edge of the palace land. Above you the forest loomed, foreboding and fascinating all at once. You expected to be alone, out in the night, but as you slowed to a halt, panting breaths that circled you in the midnight air, a voice called to you through the manicured lawns and trained roses, echoing from the mountain behind you, sad and low. 

Loki’s arms found your waist, pulling you back against his chest. Firm and real in the ethereal night, and took your weight as you cried again. 

“My darling, please, you can not leave me here." He begged, nuzzling into your neck and breathing you in. You could smell him too, your memory so vivid that it filled your senses.

“What choice do I have?" You sagged further into his hold, his strong arms keeping you against his chest. 

Together you tumbled to the ground. Loki kept you close in his lap, attempting to stop your skirts from catching in the grass and mud, but you pushed them away, taking his wrists and placing his hands on your waist. With panting breaths you stared at each other, the moonlight glowing in his eyes. Then he kissed you. With no hesitation, no shyness. His tongue licking into your mouth and claiming you. 

You fell into his kisses, the moss below you becoming a blanket as he lay you down. You pulled him closer, sinking into the feeling of his magic as it surrounded you, allowing him to mould himself to your body.

“Your dress, it will be noticed," he mumbled, pulling the silk and chiffon back onto the blanket. 

“If I have to leave in a week, why should I care what anyone thinks? I’ll never be allowed to live again. And I want to live Loki, I want to be free!” Your hands were on his shoulders, in his hair, on his arms pulling him closer, clinging to him as if to life itself. 

“You are still a Princess, soon you'll be a Queen too. I should take you back to the palace.” He propped himself up on his elbow, warring with himself over whether to take you back to your chambers or keep you here forever. Loki was losing his fight, confusion writ across his normally controlled expression. Your kisses tasted like wine and figs, intoxicating and enticing. He had held himself back for so long, kept his feelings deeply hidden for so long he was struggling to keep his hands from you. 

“Is that not enough for you, my Prince? Or is it because you are a God? Am I not Goddess enough?” You started to sit up, confused in the depths of your emotions. If you weren't enough then you wouldn't be humiliated. 

“My darling, my Princess, my Queen, Ásynja. I would worship at your feet." He insisted, cupping your cheeks, his eyes swirling with need, with desire, with something you couldn't name. "But you will have to hold court here, you must be respected as the Goddess of Spring, there is some purity required," he hinted, his hands clenching in the swirling fabric at your waist. 

Loki kissed across your brow, your nose, your cheeks, every kiss more reverent than the last. Filled with the love he was too frightened to name. 

You laughed, a harsh bark compared to the usually tinkling lilt of your joy, “Is that what you think they’ll crown me? Because of my mother?” 

You felt him nod against your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse, enjoying the taste of you while he could, before he let you go. 

“What else could you be? How could you be anything but pure love and joy, there is no other who could replace her, it has to be you,” his hands played with the jewels that seemed to eternally adorn your hair, turning each pink diamond green beneath his touch. 

“Lust. That’s what I've heard I will be, a humiliation, a jest. What do you get when you marry spring and fertility with chaos and brawling? Lust, he said, violent lust. And I shall marry a war lord from Vanaheim too, to confirm my position. He made it clear I wasn’t to fall in love while I was here, I must keep myself pure so that my lord may enjoy his wife to the fullest." You ground your teeth, tearing at the blanket beneath you. "His greatest trick. Naming his own daughter Goddess of Lust as a - as a - as a virgin." Your face screwed up in anger, sobs wracking you as you thought of giving yourself so intimately to your betrothed. But Loki stopped. 

“You love me?” He asked, suddenly shy, his grasping hands holding you close. 

You met his gaze again, soft and full of admiration. “Endlessly,” you breathed, and he lay you back down among the moss, the growing flowers and new shoots, the warm sun rising and the scent of spring surrounding you. 

You woke to Brunnhilde stoking the fire, the curtains drawn now and the lights low. She smiled as you stirred and came to sit beside you again. 

“Pleasant dreams, were they?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, and you felt hot suddenly, even without the crackling fire. 

“I still have so many questions,” you pondered on what you needed answered first. 

“My father? Was he cruel?” You asked, curling your feet under yourself and tucking one of Brunnhilde's many blankets over your knees. 

"I never met him properly." Brunnhilde admitted, though a little awkwardly. "I know he was a god here on Midgard, and that your mother kept you closely guarded on Asgard while he was holding court here. I believe it was an arranged match, and there was no love between them. It was perhaps why she was so keen to see you well married, in the end. But I haven't seen him, not since he took you back."

Married. You had already found out that you were a Goddess, what would be marriage compared to that? To some unknown war lord no less, perhaps he would already be dead. But it was some comfort to know that, even then, you had given your heart and soul to Loki instead. 

Brunnhilde watched you, waiting for the next question. 

“You said Loki meant a lot to me. Will you show me?” You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your spine, you knew exactly what he meant, but you had to know whether it was a dalliance born of extreme emotion, or something more. 

The King looked awkward for a moment. “I didn’t see a lot of it. You were both private, but also royalty. I wasn’t there, but I do  remember the last ball you attended together, the one in your honour. He danced with you the whole night and refused any other offer, the court was abuzz with whispers of your courtship.  Your father was angry that you'd allowed yourself to become the subject of gossip and he took you early in the morning before anyone else was awake. You had planned a final breakfast on the terrace with the Princes and the Queen, Loki was distraught for a day and then it was as if you were never there. No one spoke of you, and Frigga made it clear your name was never to enter the gossip of court again, for everyone’s safety." 

The whole thing had been so odd, all you wanted to do was speak to Loki and share your new knowledge with him, to see if he could remember it too. Brunnhilde called Thor while you layered your coat and scarf on again, tugging your boots on with one hand on the wall in the small hallway. 

She stood in the doorway as you left, and directed you away from her cosy home, back towards the harbour and to another stone cottage before she closed the door for the night, leaving you to your thoughts. 

You walked slowly across the small village, enjoying the crisp air and the bob of the boats in the harbour. It was calm here, away from the world, and you contemplated asking Loki if you could continue your training here instead of returning to the bustle of the compound. 

"Princess Estrid,” a deep voice said behind you. The title was new and brittle, but you assumed it must be another Asgardian, perhaps someone you once knew and, with a new found excitement, you turned to them with a smile. 

“Yes?"

And then everything went black. 

<<Part 6

Part 8>>

Gods & Goddess' mentioned.

This is just from my own reading, I'm by no means an expert, just a fan, so if you know more and want to talk to me please send me a message/ask!

Brigid - beloved Goddess from the Tuatha Dé Danann. Brigid is often cited as the goddess of spring, the dawn, fertility. Brigid is so popular she was made into a Saint as Christianity became more widespread. She's often linked to a magical cloak which gives protection to those that wear it, you can leave cloth outside of your house on Imbolc for her to bless and in some stories it's her cloak that covers the ground during winter. She's also linked to cattle and craftsmen (including metal work and those that use fire), mothers and children.

Brigid is well loved and celebrated still as a Pagan Goddess and Christian Saint.

[ficnation]

Chapter 3: The Desire She Stirs

Series: “She”

Word count: 2,0k+

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader

 Warnings: 18+; mayans mc typical warnings, a tiny sprinkle of smut if you squint hard enough

A/n: Everything needs to fall apart before it can grow stronger. Angel starts to feel things he’s not comfortable with.

If you enjoyed reading this please reblog and let me know your thoughts!

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Angel Reyes used to think he knew you like the back of his hand. He always thought you were a good friend that didn’t hide stuff from him—that didn’t lie or pretend. Boy, was he wrong.

He first starts to doubt it when you come back home long past midnight with your hair messy and your clothes ruffled, the red lipstick smudged over your mouth and cheek. You aggressively throw your boots into the corner, then press your forehead against the cold wall with a loud, strained groan.

Angel hears how heavy your breaths are and sees the way you flinch when the wooden floor underneath his feet creaks. He calls your name as he walks over, concerned.

“You doin’ alright there?” His voice carries the worry he feels. The question is a soft whisper as it enters your ears.

You take a deep breath, your whole body trembling as you try to force the pent-up rage and tension out of your muscles. When you turn around to face him, you can only shrug pathetically, biting on your lower lip so you don’t burst into tears in front of him.

He reaches your person with knitted brows, taking your face between his large, warm hands. “What happened, querida?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” you refuse, trying to avoid his gaze, but it’s not that easy—his face is barely inches from yours. You can even feel his minty breath brushing over your cheeks. “Tomorrow?”

Angel thinks for a moment but doesn’t push; he knows it wouldn’t be fair if he did. He might be living with you; he might even be sleeping in the same bed from time to time when your nightmares make you cry out at night—but he still has no right to get all up in your business.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” he offers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You respond with a nod, arms circling his waist as you give him an appreciative squeeze.

He lets you go reluctantly before walking away toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. You let out a deep sigh as you press your fingers to your temples, almost as if to calm down your racing mind. You give yourself a moment, then shrug off your leather jacket and hang it over the back of the couch before you follow in Angel’s steps.

As you walk into the bathroom, the inviting and soothing smell of vanilla soap and bath salts fills your senses. The air is humid and the lighting low, creating a relaxing and peaceful environment. The sound of the running bathwater floods the air with its calming sound.

The room is uncluttered for once, and you realize Angel must’ve picked up all of Maverick’s bath toys in the few minutes you spared him. The image of him scrambling around the room as he tries to quickly pick up every single one of the colorful trucks, boats, and squeaking ducks brings a smile to your face.

You approach the steaming bath, its warmth inviting. You manage to shed your blouse and wiggle out of your tight jeans before Angel returns with a bottle of white wine and two whiskey glasses—you never got around to buying the stemmed ones.

The man stares at your half-naked figure as you straighten up and step out of the pile of clothing gracefully. His eyes follow your every move, every curve of your body, every mark that decorates your skin. He feels entranced as he tries to will his gaze away, but he simply can’t, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

What’s even worse, you don’t seem to notice his presence as you unclasp your bra and slide down the matching lace panties. You step into the warm embrace of the bath, the comfort welcoming after a long, tiring day. You settle in with a deep sigh of relief.

Angel can feel the heat enveloping his body, lulling him into slipping into the bath with you. Then suddenly, you notice him in your peripheral vision, and you jump in surprise—the water moving with you. He feels like a fucking pervert.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles out, turning around quickly as if it was going to save him from being caught in the act.

He can’t see you shaking your head, but he definitely hears the snort that follows it. The bottle of wine almost slips from his hand onto the blue tiles below; he grips it a little bit tighter by its neck.

“No worries,” you respond shortly as you fold your arms on the side of the tub, resting your chin in the nook of your elbow. “Are you joining me, or you’re just gonna stand there like a donkey?”

Your words fall on deaf ears as Angel stares into the distance with wide eyes. He’s sure his dirty mind is just playing with him. There was no way those words came out of your pretty lips. He spins to face you, and you meet his gaze, eyes shimmering with playfulness. Are you teasing him? Or are you just amused by his reaction to the question? He has no fucking idea which one it is, and it scares him.

You sigh deeply and decide to spare him the overthinking, “C’mon, hop in.”

“Me?” the man asks, pointing one of his fingers at his chest. He looks around the room as if someone else could’ve hidden in there, but he doesn’t see anyone. It’s only you and him. 

You roll your eyes in disbelief, leaning back and slipping further into the sudsy water. “Well, do you see anyone else here?”

Angel reluctantly sets down the glasses and the bottle of wine on the carpet beside the bathtub. He steps back and searches your face for an explanation. Maybe you’ve been drunk out of your mind since you came home, and he didn’t even notice. The smudged mascara on the apples of your cheeks reminds him that you had a bad night—a shitty night. He’s afraid you’re playing his game and looking for comfort in the wrong places.

“Querida, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Not in a sexual way, you ass,” you explain when your mind catches up to his suspicions. “I just want you to enjoy it with me. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

After the words leave your lips, you don’t have to wait much longer. Angel understands that feeling—the despairing need for the closeness of another human being. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and inches it up slowly, giving you time to chicken out and retract the offer, but you don’t.

Your eyes gaze at the revealed skin and the happy trail of dark curls. You feel your cheeks getting warmer, so you look away—the white tiled walls are suddenly the most interesting thing in your world.

Angel slides his shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor as he pushes the sweatpants down his legs. He stands there in all his naked glory and watches as you toy with your fingers awkwardly. He feels like he will chicken out if he stands there for a minute longer, so he slips into the bath and sits on the opposite side of you. The bathtub is big enough for you two to fit without feeling overly cramped.

You meet his eyes with a shy smile. “Hi, Angel.”

He shakes his head, amused, as he playfully splashes the suds at your face. You giggle quietly—a genuine sound—and he already knows he’s made your night a tiny bit better. He’s surprised this is all it took to calm you down—his company, wine, and a bubble bath.

You lean over the edge of the tub and pour the wine into the whiskey glasses, handing him one as you slump down with a relaxed hum, your leg grazing his underwater. It stirs something inside him, and he can’t help but shiver at the contact of your skin against his. He gulps down a generous mouthful of the alcoholic liquid, begging his body not to betray him.

Almost as if reading his mind, your eyes meet his, and you observe him intently, tapping your nails on the glass between your hands. “You seem nervous,” you state the obvious.

Angel blinks fast and sends you an awkward smile, shrugging his arms. He doesn’t know why he feels so restless and horny at the mere sight of your naked flesh and proximity. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you without clothes before—he did. You’ve been living together for a while—he’s seen it all, but it never made him feel this way.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, querida,” he lies anyway, trying to slide back, so he can put a little more distance between your bodies. The faucet jabs him in the spine, and the man hisses loudly, back arching.

“Shit, Angel, are you okay?!”

You’re now kneeling in the bath, right between his spread legs, as your hands hover over his arms, ready to check over the injury.

You’re too close. You’re far too close. Angel starts panicking; his heart thumps in his chest as your concerned eyes meet his. He’s trying not to look down at your revealed chest, but it’s hard not to. He can feel the warmth spreading through his body as he imagines how it would feel like to let those temptations win—to hear your sweet moans as he pounds you into the mattress. Fuuuuck.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, pushing your hands away gently. His eyes are looking anywhere but at you.

You look at him, utterly confused, as you slide back a little bit away from him. “Are you—”

“I said turn the fuck around!” he sneers loudly, cutting you off, a deep frown etched on his face.

You quickly do what he says, a shiver running down your spine. You have no idea if his sudden outburst is your fault. What did you do wrong? You’ve kept your distance as much as you could—as much as the calling of his muscled body and his charming smile allowed you to. But somehow, you still fucked it all up. That’s what you were best at. Fucking things up for everyone, including yourself.

The sound of splashing and dripping fills the air as Angel steps out of the tub. The bathwater ripples slightly, its bubbly surface glistening in the light. With his movement, some water spills over the edge and splashes out onto the cold tiles.

You sit still, your knees tucked to your body, chin propped up on them as tears well up in your eyes. The sound of trickling water and dripping onto the floor continues, making each of his steps seem slower—spiking up the tension in the air. You hear the rustling of his clothes as he picks them all up and leaves the room, still drenched and naked. He doesn’t bother saying anything else, but his harsh words still echo in your head.

You burst into sobs—let them wreck through your whole body, shaking with their intensity. You didn’t mean to upset him. You just needed someone else’s touch on you, someone else’s presence beside you, to forget the hands that grasped the fabric of your clothes—the hands that grabbed at your flesh harshly, leaving bruises in their wake. God, you just wanted to forget this night.

When you finally manage to step out of the bathtub, the water is cold—it’s been like that for a while already, but you didn’t even notice, too far gone in your thoughts. You put on the first clean clothes you can get your hands on, then fall back on your bed—the mattress creaking slightly.

That night when you thrash around and scream in your nightmares, you don’t wake up to the feel of Angel’s strong arms pulling you into his warm embrace. You wake up to the empty room and the eerie silence swallowing you in. The feeling of safety is gone.

Taglist: @neverland14353 @darklydeliciousdesires​

[lou-struck]

Locked Out

Eijirou Kirishima x reader

25 Days of Ficmas Day 8

W.C: 1.7k

Warnings: Reader accidently gets locked out in below freezing temps. Kiri feels bad, symptoms of being cold.

~After you were accidently locked out of the house in a snowstorm, your boyfriend tries to warm you up.

For as long as you have known him, Eijirou Kirishima's love language has been Acts of Service. This man just loves to do little things for you that you don't like doing for yourself. Whether it's moving your laundry into the dryer on busy mornings or watering your houseplants, Kiri will jump at the chance to help you out and make your life a bit easier.

At first, you weren't used to having someone there who wanted to help you, but now it is safe to say you are just a bit spoiled from the Pro Hero's doting behavior. 

After a long day's work, you came home to darkened skies and your boyfriend shoveling the snow from your driveway- another necessary task that you really didn't want to do. A tall pile of snow rests in the grass, and you see the wet, salt-covered asphalt of your driveway for the first time in days.

You can hardly contain your joy as you turn off your car and run into the Red-headed hero's arms. You press your face into the plush of his padded winter jacket. The surface is cold and silky on your cheeks as he squeezes you tightly. The well-loved shovel clatters onto the ground with a scraping sound, but neither of you really seems to care.

"Did someone order a snow plow service?" he asks, his condensation filling the air as he pants softly from the exertion. 

"Eijirou," you pout, tilting your head to take in his rosy cheeks and snowflake-covered lashes. "You texted me this morning that you picked up a patrol today. Did you really do all of this yourself to surprise me?"

He laughs and looks down at you with a big smile. "Course I did. You hate shoveling the driveway."

You would say something in your defense, but he is absolutely right. "Well thank you. Let's go inside and get you something to eat. You must be starving."

His stomach growls at the very mention of food, and he laughs merrily. "You know me too well. Let's eat."

~

It's amazing to see what a difference an hour inside and a simple meal can do to warm your spirits. 

Your plates have been cleared, and you and Eirjioru have settled into your usual routine of washing and drying the dishes together. Kiri washes the dishes and hands them over to you to dry and put away. 

He lost drying privileges after breaking one too many coffee cups, so this delicate task is all on you.

You place the last few glass plates into the cupboard, and you hear the water shut off.

"Is that it?" you ask as he unrolls his sleeves and steps away from the sink. 

"It sure is, we have gotten good at this whole living together thing."

You laugh and loop your arms around his neck. "I think I like you around."

"You're not too bad yourself." he cheeses, his neck craning downwards to give you a long-awaited welcome home kiss. His slightly chapped lips meet yours tenderly and you feel at ease. Your shoulders slump, and the stress of the holidays seems to disappear momentarily.

He pulls away and says the most attractive sentence known to man. 

"I'll take the recycling out, Baby."

You look over to the overflowing recycling bin in your corner. Crushed cans and boxes pile up past the counter top. He grabs the pile easily and shoves it into the bin, his skin hardens as he aids the process with his quirk. 

As it shuts you realize that he may have missed a partially crushed can that fell off the overflowing pile and onto the floor when the bin used to sit. With a carefree shrug you crouch down to pick it up yourself and toss it into the bin outside. 

As you do, so, you hear the creaky hinges of the back door fly open and the recycle bin frantically slamming onto the ground.

"Eiji?" you call with concern, "Is everything all right?"

"All good," he answers, his voice traveling down the hallway. "Just gotta take a pee."

You laugh as he steps into the bathroom and walk towards the door to take the can out yourself. A pair of fluffy slippers are by the door that you slip on quickly. You spot a few jackets on some hooks but decide to forgo the jacket since you'll only be out for a second. 

AS soon as you step out the door your mostly bare feet land in a pile of snow. The cheap slippers do not protect your poor toes from the elements as you let out a yelp. 

The night air hits you like a ton of bricks. Each step chills you more as you shiver and shake your way to the recycling bin and toss the can in. 

Turning quickly, you run back to the house and reach for the metal door handle.

It doesn't budge.

Letting out an annoyed huff, you twist the knob again.

Still no movement

You push and pull and push some more as you come to a harrowing realization…

Eijirou Kirishima, your super sweet, heroic boyfriend. Has locked you outside in the cold.

You knock frantically on the door as your poor, underdressed body begins to cover itself in goosebumps. But no matter what you do, Eijirou doesn't seem to hear you.

Is he still in the bathroom?

What if he's doing a number 2?

You're running in place now trying to keep yourself warm. Your fuzzy slippers chilling your poor toes from the snow. You know that just waiting here is useless. 

With a huff you begin to walk around to the front of the house so you can punch in the garage code and let yourself in that way. Halfway there, you turn, lose your footing, and fall into one of the many piles of snow on the lawn that Kiri had made from the snow on your driveway. 

Now all of you is freezing.

You make it to the garage and try to punch in the code with shivering hands. But nothing happens. The panel dosent even light up.

The battery must be dead.

Shit. 

You're so cold and miserable. Your wet jeans cling to your skin and begin to partially freeze against your legs. The new frost cracks slightly as you climb the front steps. Your lips tingle and you can hardly feel your face as you rapidly ring the doorbell with a trembling finger. 

The dings and the dongs are so mashed together it creates a whole new sound. Your other hand bangs on the door and every bit of you begs to be let inside. 

The door swings open in a flash, and Eijirou looks at you with a mix of shock and surprise in his features. You were only outside for about eight minutes or so, but to him, it seemed like a lifetime.

He takes in your frozen, unredressed appearance and you see his heart sink. "Oh my god, did I lock you out?"

"Y-yeah." you shiver as he pulls you inside. You filing off your now ruined slippers and they hit the wall with a splat. "W-was c-cold."

"I'm so sorry," he sputters. "After I went to the bathroom, I realized it was more of a Number 2 thing, and I went to grab my phone to scroll. You know how that is." He feels himself going off-topic and brings himself back to the issue. "Anyways, I saw the door wasn't locked, so I locked it on my way back in."

You know he is beating himself up over this, but if you weren't so damn cold you would laugh about this. 

"If I knew you were out there I never would've locked you out in the cold."

"It's okay." you shiver as he leads you into the house to warm you up. He leaves you by the heating vent as he runs around like a chicken with his head cut off, frantically grabbing you new clothes, helping you out of your wet ones, and tossing them in the wash. 

With you all dressed in clothes that are not covered in snow, he settles you on the couch. You try to keep your shivers to yourself but it takes more than new dry clothes to warm you up. 

Your body betrays you, and your heart feels like a guilt-impacted stress ball every time you see the weariness on your ball of sunshine features. 

"Come sit," Kiri gently directs you to the couch and takes the plaid checkered blanket draped aesthetically over it's back and wraps it around you. He tucks you into the cushions in your upright position, "How does that feel?"

"Better," you mumbled. It may have not been a lie, but you certainly could get warmer. 

His crimson gaze bores into you and he runs a hand through his long hair. He sighs and walks off. "You need more." 

And more you get. Eijirou tosses every blanket in sight over you and you feel yourself becoming one with the leather seats. 

You can't stop him, not when you see how guilty he looks for unintentionally putting you in this situation in the first place. But his efforts are working. The shivering ceases and the biting cold outside feels like a distant memory. 

After you can't think you can hold the weight of any more blankets he comes back into the room. He looks over you carefully and finally meets your gaze. "Do you need anything else?"

Wordlessly, you wiggle your arms out from under the mountain of blankets and hold them out to him. Your eyes are half-lidded as the exhaustion for the day hits you. As a silent invitation for cuddles that he never wants to reject. 

He blinks in surprise, "Are you sure you want me in there with you."

He is too good, "Eiji," you say firmly, yet lovingly, "if you don't get under here I swear I'll lock you outside myself."

Your good-humored threat works wonders. The tone in the room shifts and he smiles for the first time since dinner. "Then let me just dive right in." he chuckles, slipping under the mountain so you can cling to him like the koala bear you are. 

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[lil-spider]

So Damn Pretty

Chapter 6

Part 5 : Part 7 :

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter X Female Reader

Summary: Johnny is sex starved and you’re very attractive, so attractive that he doesn’t want to kill you. Instead he finds ways to keep you around longer.

Note: How was this chapter? Sorry it took so long been busy lol. Also I have like 18 story ideas for Johnny and some of them will be super freaky/fucked up but I’m not sure if that will be liked or not.

Warning: This is 18+ and please do not read if your sensitive to heavy descriptions of non/con and violence. Including bondage, blood, gore, assault, objectification and unsafe sex. For those who don’t mind, I hope you enjoy.

Johnny and I enter the house together. He returns me back to Sissy, who is working diligently on the washing. Just before Johnny leaves, he discreetly grabs my buttcheek really hard, making me embarrassingly squeak. He laughs out while walking away after seeing my red face. Now that Johnny is gone, I calm down, fix my appearance, and proceed to help Sissy with the laundry.

She notices me walking towards her and smiles. "Heya pumpkin, mind hanging out these for me?" She says this while soaking the clothes in a tub of clean water, twisting out the dirt, and scrubbing them. I grab the clean pile and place the damp laundry into a nearby basket. I go out to the backyard to hang them on this flimsy line. Though I'm extra careful when I come across Johnny's clothes, I display them more neatly than the rest.

While the washing dries, Sissy and I get to the dishes. We converse as we work. "Your help has been so wonderful, sugar." She claps her hands happily. "Hopefully I'll get to show my music collection later on." She makes It seems like something is going to happen to me. "Why are you hopeful, Sissy?" I ask. 

She's developing a wide, devious grin. "Tonight is the night you're finally going to eat your' little blonde friends, and if ya' eat em’, ya' get to live with us!" Her smile drops when she sees my disturbed face. She grabs my hands and brings herself into my personal space. Making me uncomfortable.

"Promise me ya' eat the food, sug? I really like ya' and I'll hate for ya' to get killed like ya’ friends." She frowns, squeezing my hands hard and awaiting my answer.

"I promise." I tell her quietly, not really having a choice. I'm scared of how quickly Sissy can get upset. I can’t forget who she is underneath all that sweetness.

I don't want to eat humans, no less my friends, but what other options do I have?

"Johnny wants ya' to eat too, ya' know?" She slyly says stepping back, sprinkling more salt to my wound. "Ya' don't wanna disappoint him now." My heart squeezes at the thought of upsetting him.

"I'll do it; I'll eat." I tell her more confidently. She smiles joyfully. "That's a good girl!" After that, we return to work. I grimace, feeling emotionally overwhelmed and sticky. My thighs are covered in a mix of Johnny's dried cum and saliva. He just had to fuck me right after a lovely shower. Now I have to wait until tonight to have another one. That's if I survive tonight...

No backing out; I'll eat the food and earn my keep. I want to stay alive. I want to be with Johnny.

“We gotta feed Grandpa.” Sissy mentions interrupting my train of thought. She points to a bucket across the room that’s got a bloodied sack hanging over it, draining blood into the tub. It was not a very pleasant sight or smell. She grabs two vials from the kitchen sink, bringing them to the tub. Filling them up.

"We will feed him together and then make lunch; Pa’s here, so he’s making dinner tonight. You're going to love it! He's an award-winning cook, ya know." She tells me cheerfully as she finishes filling the vials.

We go to the living room, where her grandpa is. He appears to be on his deathbed. I grimace a little as I look him over. Is he even alive? Sissy informs me that he's incredibly over one hundred years old, and his secret is fresh blood. “The fresher the better!” She exclaims. “Especially from the pretty ones, it keeps him going."

 

She gives me a vial, pushing me forward. “This is Y/N grandpa; she is our little maid, and she's going to feed you' today.” Sissy giggles, grabbing my reluctant hand and bringing it up so the vial touches his dry lips, forcefully moving my wrist so the red liquid pours into his mouth.

I cringe from disgust as the blood slides into his mouth. He lets out these gleeful groans, sucking up the blood.

 

“There you go, grandpa, isn’t she lovely?" Sissy pulls me aside to give her veil of blood to him. "Grandpa has always loved pretty gals. Y/N, you've made him very happy." I sigh at her words, hoping I don’t have to do this every day. It's too gross.

 

By the time we finish up with Grandpa and fold the laundry, the afternoon slowly starts rolling into the night, and soon so will dinner.

Sissy and I are currently watering the flowers around the house, trimming the dead branches, and tidying up their appearance. While I finish the last rose bush, the smell of what’s being cooked for dinner makes its way to my nose. And shit, it smells amazing. "Ooh, I’m so excited for dinner, sugar; I know it’s going to be a treat!” Sissy exclaims. Opposite to her, I’m absolutely wrecked with anxiety. I’m going to be a different person after tonight.

 

The next thing you know, we hear that familiar bell ring. “Come on, sug, first ones in, first one served.” She skips over, grabbing my hand and pulling me along. She’s very forceful today.

I feel a lot tenser than usual; my stomach is hallow as I sit down at my usual spot with Sissy. This time, Bubba is helping Drayton with dinner. Dishing up everything, he’s wearing a feminine-looking mask while in a purple suit. I guess he dressed up for the occasion.

Nubbins and Johnny walk in, taking their usual spots, with Johnny right in front of me. Looking at me with his typical grin. I look down into my lap, unable to hold eye contact with him; he leaves me feeling so flustered.

Bubba comes behind me and places down what looks like a normal bowl of chilli, which I know is something much more sinister. Don’t think about it; if I start acting up, it will be the end. Take a deep breath and calm down; it’s just normal chilli.

 

Drayton, last to arrive, sits down with Bubba. All eyes are on me, like hawks waiting for me to take the first bite. I shut my eyes. It’s not a big deal; just imagine you with normal people eating a normal dinner. I shakily grab a spoon and scoop a sample of the food into my mouth. It’s tragically delicious.

Tears roll down my face as I hungrily eat seconds, and cheers and laughter roar around at me, Johnny and Sissy especially. Shining their pearly whites ear to ear. The rest of the family starts to dig in. Devouring their food down greedily—it's all just white noise to me.

 

Same as yesterday, Sissy, and I clean up after everyone. I’m silent while I clean the dishes, unlike Sissy, who is joyfully singing around the kitchen. I feel queasy, but I got to get over it. It doesn’t matter now; what’s done is done.

It’s late. After having another shower, I hoped to get some sleep, but it’s impossible, so now I'm just lying on my bed in just some panties and a shirt, staring up at the ceiling and watching the shadows move from the strong wind.

 

I hear creaking from the stairway as familiar, heavy footsteps come to my door. I sit up, waiting as the door opens. Johnny walks in quietly, closing the door behind him.

He turns around and, of course, grins. He checks out my appearance, his gaze heavy on my chest, nipples poking out of the cold, looking down to my bare legs on display.

 

He glides over to me and sits on the bed, making it creek. He takes off his shoes and climbs further up. Sitting next to me, he places his large hand on my thigh, squeezing it.

Johnny looks me in the eyes with lust and something new. “I’m proud of you.” He says softly, grabbing my chin for a kiss. My heart flutters and pounds. The love I have for him deepens. I kiss back at him, and soon our tongues meet and fight. He tastes like cigarettes and mint. I lightly moan into his mouth as he inches closer to me and grips my shoulders.

He pushes back against the bed, climbing over me and sliding his hands down my body, feeling me up. I spread my legs when I feel his hands on them. He rubs my clit through my panties. “This pussy always so wet for me.” He admires rubbing his thumb down on the wet patch. I gasp and move my hips against his thumb.

“Johnny, please, I want you.” I beg him. I want his fat cock in me already. I bite my lip, thinking about it. The girth and veins. The way it bounces against his stomach when he pulls it out makes my pussy clench. My cunt throbs the more I imagine it. Fuck, I’m so horny for him.

“Just take my cock, sweetheart; don’t worry bout’ a thing.” He gets off the bed and begins to undress himself. Pulling off his black shirt, revealing his deliciously scarred body and thick muscles. His jeans come down, letting his swollen cock spring out. I don’t take my eyes off him; he’s so handsome it’s mesmerizing.

Johnny grins, noticing my staring, but unlike before, I don't feel shy. It's different this time. I want this; I want him. I take off my clothes, starting with my shirt. I sit up and slowly peel it off, showing him my chest. I play with my tits, pressing my fingers into my nipples. giving him a little show.

"Look who’s enjoying herself now.” Johnny speaks as he comes up to me, pulling my hands away from my chest. He climbs back over me. I lay down while he sits between my legs.

He places his hot mouth on my hard nipple, sucking it. while his free hand pinches and twists the other. I pant while gripping his hair tightly.

He pulls back up, grabbing my underwear and sliding it off. I spread my legs further for him, giving a full view of my drenched pussy to his appreciative eyes.

"Fuck, darlin' I’m so glad I kept you.” His words shoot electricity down to my cunt. I'm feeling so hot under his stare. I need him to touch me.

"Johnny, I need you inside me, please." I beg him. Johnny hums, still staring at my bare body. He grasps my knees, spreading my legs painfully further. He smiles at seeing my clit twitch.

"Here, darlin' does this feel good?" Johnny rubs his thick shaft against my clit, giving me a smidge of relief. I reply back with breathy moans. He slips further between my legs, getting into a comfortable position.

“You did so good today, sweetheart.” He whispers as he moves further up, kissing me from my chest to my neck. I hold onto his wide shoulders while he teases me.

He's being surprisingly gentle. I must have really made him happy during dinner. He's so handsome, and he's being so sweet. I feel safe with him. I want more of this. I want to be his forever.

His knees sit on the edge of the bed as my legs sit on his hips. Johnny places his hands next to my head for balance while he slowly slides his throbbing cock into my pussy. We both groan at the sensation. I dig my nails into his shoulder hard, still feeling tender from our last fucking.

He’s moving very slowly, taking his cock in for only a few inches and moving it back out. Fucking me softly in missionary, he continues his gentle thrusts while looking down at my face. I keep clenching around his cock, wanting more, now feeling dissatisfied. I move my hips against him, wanting him to speed up, but he continues to be gentle, smirking as he patiently sits his cock still in me.

I whine as fat tears fall out, frustrated with a pulsing cunt and clit. I need more of for him. I whine as Johnny chuckles licking up the tears falling down across my face.

“So needy.” He groans, speeding up, getting a steady rhythm. I nod my head in agreement, moving up to kiss him deeply.

He groans and kisses me back, now getting rougher while shoving his tongue in my mouth. I moan in enjoyment, wrapping my arms around his neck as I finally get more of his cock. It’s hitting that perfect spot, making me break away from the kiss and throw my head back, crying out loudly.

His hair is falling out of place as his thrusts get harder, dark locks framing his face while he bites his bottom lip. My hands grip his wrists to steady myself. God, he is a sight.

I wiggle my hips into his thrusts, grinding on him. He groans and lowers himself, putting his head into my neck. I can hear his heavy breathing and low moans; it sends shocks to my pussy. My clit pulse is now hungry for attention.

“You’re such a slut for my cock, sweetheart.” He groans into my neck, and my clit twitchs in agreement. “Yes!” I moan while my hand slides down between us, rubbing at my clit. "Yeah, darlin, rub your little clit.” He moans, licking his hot tongue along my neck as he keeps hitting my sweet spot.

"You're going to cum with me.” He decides, speeding up his thrusts and making the bed creek loudly. He pounds into me faster, working us both closer. My free hand grips his shoulder as I feel that familiar sensation. I rub my clit faster almost there. “I’m about to cum Johnny.” I whine to him, my pussy tightening around his cock, making him grunt.

"Oh, good girl.” He grunts out while I cum on his cock. My cunt constricts his shaft as I orgasm. Johnny’s cock twitches, and with one final hard thrust, he finishes deep inside me. Drowning my pussy with his seed.

He pulls out his wet cock and rolls over next to me. He's running his hands back through his hair, catching his breath. “Johnny?” I say his name softly, turning my head to look at him.

 “Yeah doll?” He asks as he sits up, stretching. “Could you please stay the night?” I ask with hopefulness. 

 

"Sure, doll, after one cig.” He smiles at my request. I feel the butterflies again in my stomach as I witness a softer side of him.

I clean myself up as he has his post-sex cigarette. I get under the cool bedsheets. Feeling fucked out and tired, soon he slides into the bed next to me, warping an arm tightly around my chest as we fall asleep.

[machihunnicutt]

HELLO!!! 14 or 21, if either of those speak to you???

HELLO!!! Loved both of these...tried to incorporate both:

14. being calmed by the familiar feeling of the other's body molding into theirs & 21. cuddles without doing anything else even though they have a bunch of things to do

“Are you hiding out in here?” BJ said. 

Hawkeye was sprawled, arms and legs out like a starfish, on their bed. He was wearing a pair of borrowed (stolen) running shorts, a sweaty t-shirt, and his tennis shoes, which were hanging off of the mattress. 

He poked his head up to look at BJ, standing in the doorway. 

“I don’t know where she gets all that energy from,” Hawkeye said: hushed, as if Erin could hear downstairs. 

She had the radio on, full blast, and just before BJ wandered off in search of Hawk, she’d been reorganizing the piles of toys she was keeping and the toys she was labeling with a rainbow assortment of price stickers, for the garage sale.

“She’s 13,” BJ said. 

“She accused me of being a hoarder,” Hawkeye said. 

“She’s going through a minimalist phase. It’ll pass,” BJ said.

Peg had enlisted Erin’s help in her spring cleaning endeavors, which had culminated in Erin’s first Mill Valley garage sale. Erin was always eager to assist, particularly with projects that allowed her to organize things or order people around. She liked taking money and making change. She liked selling fresh squeezed, super sour, best in town (her words) lemonade and making bargains and trades with her old baby dolls and jump ropes and clothes she’d outgrown. 

When they’d picked her up at the airport, for her summer visit, she’d recounted her escapades as a young entrepreneur and organizational savant with such animation, that BJ had agreed to let her host another sale at their house in Maine. He hadn’t thought about how much stuff they had and how many boxes and trash bags and superfluous pieces of furniture Erin would want to drag out onto the lawn and pepper with price tags.

Hawk wiggled to the right and patted the space beside him.

“You don’t think I’m a hoarder, do you?” Hawkeye said, as BJ stretched out beside him.

Hawkeye rolled on his side and pressed up against him, slinging one arm over BJ’s chest. He was warm, and still a little breathless. They fit together the way they always did: Hawkeye’s stomach flush with BJ’s ribs, his ankle hooked around BJ’s, his chin tucked over BJ’s shoulder, his eyes closed, and his nose pressed to the side of BJ’s neck. 

“I think you—have an exceptional eye for knick knacks,” BJ said.

“Useless knick knacks, that I hoard,” Hawkeye said.

“Don’t blame yourself. Knick knacks aren’t known for their utility,” BJ said.

Hawkeye laughed. This, too, was familiar: the buzzing, exultant, vibration of the sound. BJ laughed too, at his own joke. It was a chain reaction. It always was, when they were lying like this.

“Those salt and pepper shakers shaped like teddy bears are useful, and charming,” Hawkeye said.

They’d found them antiquing. Hawk said they reminded him of Radar. He’d carried them around the shop for half an hour, while they’d browsed. 

“Don’t tell me she wants to get rid of those,” BJ said.

Hawkeye pressed closer and kissed the underside of BJ’s jaw.

“She’s still working on the living room. I steered her away from the kitchen while you were going through all the crap in the garage,” he said.

“Oh, so the kitchen’s got all the treasures and the garage is full of my crap?” BJ said.

“Our crap,” Hawkeye said.

“Our crap,” BJ said, grinning. 

He could hear Erin downstairs, singing along to a Buddy Holly song at the top of her lungs. She’d wear herself out soon, he knew, and ask if they could go out for ice cream.

“I can talk to her, get her to tone it down a little. She gets very passionate about her projects,” BJ said.

“I love that about her. She gets that from you,” Hawkeye muttered: drowsy, muffled against BJ’s collarbone.

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t let her talk you into parting with things you don’t want to part with. She’s a reasonable kid,” BJ said.

A long pause. 

“Hawk? You awake?”

Hawkeye hummed. BJ looked down at the top of his head. He studied the sweat-damp tangle of his dark hair, streaked with silver. 

“A little decluttering is probably a good thing. I don’t have to hang onto everything for dear life anymore,” Hawkeye said. He relaxed his grip around BJ’s middle.

“That’s true. We’re sticking together, you and I. So’s our stuff,” BJ said.

“Our stuff,” Hawkeye said. He tipped his head back and looked up at BJ. “I like that it’s our stuff,” he said, voice soft.

There had been a time when there were very few objects by which BJ could remember Hawkeye. There had been a time when they were across the country from each other, and everything that belonged to the both of them, together, was stuffed in BJ’s old army trunk, under his bed, collecting dust. There had been a time when Hawk had very little of him: a shoebox full of letters, a couple fading photos, mismatched socks that had never been traded back. 

“So do I,” BJ said.

“Maybe we can introduce Erin to the joys of patronizing other people’s garage sales,” Hawkeye said.

“Peg will have my head if we send her home with an extra bag of nonsense,” BJ said.

“She can keep it here,” Hawkeye said.

“What about decluttering?” BJ said.

Hawkeye exhaled, with extra drama. “Everyone’s a critic,” he said.

“We should get up. We’ve got things to do,” BJ said.

Hawkeye kissed him, long and lazy.

“I’m plenty busy,” he said.

The volume of the music downstairs lowered, fractionally.

“Dad?” Erin called.

“Yeah, bug?” BJ said.

“I’m out of orange stickers,” she said.

“She’s out of orange stickers, Beej,” Hawkeye repeated, gravely.

“Maybe it’s time for an ice cream break,” BJ said.

Hawkeye sat up. His hair was mussed and his face was pink. He stretched, languidly, and yawned. BJ missed the sensation of Hawk’s skin against his.

He pressed his palm to BJ’s knee and squeezed. Sometimes BJ thought Hawk could read his mind. Maybe the feeling went both ways.

“Inspired idea,” Hawk said.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Abyss  - for seal girl

This accidentally wound up being the prequel to a thing I wrote last night???? So I'll probably cross-post them as a set later

“You do not talk about yourself much during our dinners.” Queen Alicent’s words were casual, a simple, almost inflectionless observation.

“Not much to talk about.”

“That isn't what you make it sound like.” She looked pointedly at her over the rim of her goblet. The two weeks following their discussion about Aldreda’s conduct had seen the dowager queen growing more comfortable. Comfortable enough, apparently, to imply a request for the impossible.

Aldreda’s self was an abyss, deep and dark and unknowable. What it contained beyond forty dead, black eyes staring up from the bottom wasn't for anyone to see.

“I am The Farwynd’s tenth child, and the heir to The Lonely Light.” Others would contest that second part, regardless of how wrong it made them. But still, her dead brothers blinked their lifeless black eyes at her. She would not be heir if even one of them had lived.

 “Tenth?” She adjusted how she sat, no doubt feeling almost physical sympathy for the hypothetical woman who'd squeezed out that many children.

“He has four salt wives.”

The dowager queen's posture relaxed, but only slightly, as a soft little hm came from behind her tightly closed lips. After a moment, she nodded, a silent instruction for Aldreda to continue.

“I am the best, most skilled raider of House Farwynd in my generation.” Her oldest brothers would have been approaching their fifth decade at this point. Regardless of that putting truth to her boast, four sets of eyes blinked up at her from the bottom of the abyss in her chest. You'll never replace us in his eyes. Try the others.

“I have the most loyal crew.” Three sets this time. Your crew has not died with you. Yours did not try to go further west with you. Yours would not follow you to the smoking ruins of Valyria. Try replacing the others.

“I've never lost the finger dance.” Alwin's big, black seal eyes blinked back at her from the pile of dead brothers she hid her self under. I did, and you still have not replaced me. The Farwynd wants me more than you.

“When The Sunderly hosted me, he said he'd never received tribute so nice from a raid that was not carried out on his order.” All forty eyes blinked up at her from the bottom of the abyss. Flattery for a woman his son wanted. You cannot be us.

“If I'd been born a boy, I'd have seven salt wives by now.” That made her brothers still and lifeless again. The ones who'd taken one only had one before they died. They could not balk at accomplishments no one had, and could not make her guilty over something that had not taken any of them.

“Mhmm.” The dowager queen set her cup down. There was silence between them, and she worked her jaw as her big, brown eyes focused on some point on the wall.

“You asked,” Aldreda said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, “it is not my fault if you find the customs of the old ways distasteful.”

“They have no say in it, Lady Farwynd.”

She snorted. “I've never fucked someone who didn't want it. I would not force any woman.” Aldreda was better than all of them: the dead men in the abyss where the girl she'd been before they started dropping like flies hid, the living men in her House's castles, half her crew before she'd gotten her teeth in them and whipped them into shape.

“How kind of you.” Her tone was flat, but a softness entered her eyes again. The dowager queen's hand went to her goblet again, but she did not pick it up, instead drumming the tips of her fingers against the gold. The soft tapping of her nails against the cup could be heard in the silence until she stopped abruptly.

“Your care towards at least that is the only thing of substance you've actually said about yourself,” Queen Alicent’s words were soft as she finally looked Aldreda in the face again, “have we not grown close enough in these weeks for you to tell me more than your list of accomplishments?”

“I do not understand, Your Grace.”

The dowager queen leaned forward, and placed her fingers gently over top of Aldreda’s. “I hold little curiosity for your boasts, you make most of them clear to everyone. I would know the woman underneath them.”

“I hide nothing. What you see when you look at me is what you get, there is nothing to be curious about.” The deep abyss in her chest was filled with her boasts. Her victories, her plunder, her indulged whims, her conquests, her twenty dead brothers. That was her. Anything at the bottom was not important enough to know.

“And what if what I see is a woman who has more to her than she shows off?”

“It could be shown off. If you want.” A wide, easy grin spread across Aldreda's face, and the flush from drink on the dowager queen's cheeks deepened as more blood rushed there. Queen Alicent swallowed before her lips parted, her gaze fixed on Aldreda’s.

“I do.”

Aldreda stood from the small, circular table and walked around to the other side. Queen Alicent had half risen from her chair by the time she came to her, and as Aldreda placed the tips of her fingers under her chin she finished standing up, their contact never breaking. She fully lifted the smaller woman's chin, and lowered her head down to brush her lips against hers.

The dowager queen's eyes fluttered shut, and she pressed her mouth into Aldreda’s, reciprocating for only a moment. Just before she could swipe her tongue across Queen's Alicent's lips, she stepped back, freeing herself from the kiss before it could go any further. Aldreda looked down at her, dumbfounded, as the dowager queen, red faced and stiff postured, awkwardly smoothed her dark green gown. Half her movements seemed nothing more than a way to busy herself, doing nothing to actually straighten or adjust anything.

“You-you should leave, Lady Farwynd.”

“What?”

“To your apartments. The, ah, the hour grows late.”

“But we–”

“I will have Ser Criston escort you.”

“What about you seeing all of me, I thought you said you wanted to know all there was to the master of ships.”

“I changed my mind, Lady Farwynd. Good night.”

Aldreda stood in stunned silence as Queen Alicent called for her damned knight, the white cloak appearing through some door only a moment later. She barely registered the other woman giving him his instructions, but she did not wait for his following of them.

“Good night, Your Grace.” With that, Aldreda crossed to the door and went out into the hall. The door closed behind her harder than she meant.

[quillsareswords]

hii, for #QFWW could you do a romantic ghost hunting with the demonologist!reader and damian bc i miss those freaks

A/N: thank you sm for requesting them I love them so fucking much

WARNINGS: language, ghost, mentions of eating/drinking

MASTER LIST in BIO

"You can hold my hand if you get scared."

   Damian snorts. "You watched me punch an eight foot lizard monster in the face on Friday night. I think I'll be alright." He accepts the maglight you hold out and shoves it into the backpack you handed him first.

   You bend at the waist and dive back into your arsenal-slash-trunk of your car. It's a glorified pile of miscellaneous weapons, tools, and occult paraphernalia, and he has no idea how you find anything as quickly as you do.

   "Okay, firstly," you start, rifling through another bag you've dredged up from the back, "Croc is nine feet tall. Easy. Secondly, you screamed like a nine year old when we watched Insidious." You produce an unopened canister of iodized salt and blindly extend it toward him.

   He drops it into the bag with a scowl. "Okay, fine, he's technically eight and a half. And I did not scream."

   You turn over your shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Oh? No? Timestamp forty-six minutes, five seconds. The Red Faced Demon is standing behind the husband–"

   "It was the sound effects–"

   "–in seven years I have never heard you make that noise–"

   "If you wouldn't have cranked the volume up–"

   "–you made me stop the movie–"

   "Okay! Yes, I was startled. It was a jumpscare. And I live with someone who fights them for a living—I'm one of the few people to watch that movie and actually know how dangerous a demon attachment can be." He huffs.

   You roll your eyes, but you go back to digging around your stash. "I didn't scream. Do you want a knife?"

   "You summon a few to play poker bi-weekly. And yes."

   You slide a bowie knife into the sheath on the back of your belt, pull out another, and stand up and slam your trunk closed. You trade him the knife for the backpack. "Constantine plays poker, I play Uno. I hate poker."

   He looks down at the knife in his hand, weighs it absently. He's seen it around before, somewhere in your office, maybe in your glove box, probably on the floor at some point. "Of course you do."

   You sling your bag over your shoulder and grab the bolt cutters from the roof of the car.

   He cocks an eyebrow and follows you toward the door. "I thought you said we had permission to be here? Why do you need those?"

   "We do," you assure him. "The owner paid me to come. He wants me to prove it's haunted so he can rent it out to shows and internet personalities." You lead him around the front of the building, out of the last strips of dusk and into the shadow the beast of brick casts. "Unfortunately, he couldn't fine the key to the chain on the door, so, you know. Bolt cutters."

   There's another door waiting for you between some overgrown hedges. He focuses mostly on his footing and allows your footsteps ahead to guide him. Between the debris and the vanishing concrete, it'd be too easy to trip.

   You clip the blades onto one link of the chain looped through the door handles and start squeezing. He stands at your back, subconsciously keeping watch while you're busy. The chain hits the cement, and you wedge the blades between the doors to help wrench them open.

   The interior is in much better shape than the exterior. Where outside, it's easy to see that all four stories of the office has been empty for several years, inside, the only thing to suggest its vacancy is the film of dust covering everything and the lack of electricity.

   You pull the first maglight put and click it on while Damian hauls the door mostly shut. The side entrance opens into a hallway that probably leads back around to the front door and the security desk.

   Damian's tiny flashlight beams cleaner and whiter beside yours, skimming down the doors lining the corridor. "What are we looking for, again?"

   "We hate-watch Ghost Adventures; it's just like that but without Zac fuckface Bagans. And, you know. We aren’t huge babies and this isn’t staged.”

   “Of course not. You’d never be satisfied with a safe, staged film set.”

   You nudge a door open and shine your light inside. An empty room with one, very depressing desk. “No, absolutely not. I had to go and solve a paranormal murder at age twelve and here we are.”

   He chuckles.

   The first floor is as barren as it can be. It looks like it was cleaned out pretty efficiently when the doors finally closed. The only interesting thing to be found is a heavy pen with the name of some paper company printed in sharp gold letters. The second floor is more of the same, save for a conference room with a projector and screen left behind. Damian talks you out of going back to the car for your computer to find out if it works.

   “If we don’t see an activity up here, I’ll just run through the next two with the K2 and call it.” You use your shoulder to convince the stair access to the third floor to open. “If it spikes, I’ll just send Jerry over tomorrow or something.” It squeals open easily once the latch is unstuck.

   He follows you into the main room. There are still some desks scattered around, and one of the fluorescent light covers is hanging open from the ceiling. “This entire endeavor seemed like more of an assistant’s errand. Why didn’t you send him to begin with?”

   There’s no bite to the question. He’s not accusing you or insinuating anything–he’s just curious. You look away guiltily anyway, because in your mind, you hear, why, this week of all weeks, did you have to do this?

   Valentine’s Day is only in a few days, and he blocked out almost his whole week to spend with you. You’d try to do the same, bumping clients around and turning phone calls into emails until you were nearly free. Unfortunately, it’s just not enough. You’ve had somewhere to be every day. He claims he isn’t irritated, that he understands, but you know it isn’t fair. 

   “I wasn’t sure if the place was haunted or not, and Jerry hasn’t exactly gotten the whole some spirits want to eat your eyeballs thing through his head yet. I didn’t want to risk him coming face to face with a poltergeist without me around,” you explain, the beam of your light sweeping across the personal offices on the farthest wall. “I’m sorry, again.”

   He nudges an old, empty file box with his shoe. “For what?”

   You sneak a glance over your shoulder at him as he wanders toward an alcove boxed in by an extra wall. “I feel bad I had to work, I guess. I know you’d rather be at home, enjoying your time off for once.” You move forward, checking between the abandoned desks for any crouching figures or lucky finds. “You really didn’t have to come.”

   You can hear him turning around, and the beam of his light reaches toward your feet. “I wanted to come,” he corrects you quickly. “And you don’t have to apologize, my love. You made as much time as you could. I know your career isn’t exactly the most forgiving. Speaking from experience.”

   You snort. “Well, sure, but–”

   “Don’t. How many dates or events have I missed?” His long legs carry him across the room a little quicker than you anticipate. “We’ve been able to spend more time together in the last few days than we have in weeks. I’m more than content with that.” His palm is warm, flattened in the small of your back. “Besides, I enjoy accompanying you. Especially when there aren’t any demons flying around swinging swords or firing flaming arrows at us.”

   “Don’t jinx it, you ass,” you swat jokingly at him with a smile. “But thank you. I like it when you come with me. Makes it a lot less boring," you chuckle. "And–"

   Bang!

   You whip around toward the sound, dominant hand curling around the handle of your knife while your light finds the source.

   Nothing's seems to have been touched except for–

   "The stairs," Damian whispers. Sure enough, the door you just had to ram open is now firmly closed. 

   You take a step closer to Damian. "Somebody there?" you call. You trade your grip on your knife to unclip the K2 meter from your belt. It ticks quietly at the lowest level.

   You didn't feel any wind that might've closed it. You don't smell sulfur or smoke. The air still feels light, if dusty, and not as oppressive as the atmosphere would be with something evil in the building. You aren't necessarily surprised by that, though. The buildings history was clean as a whistle when you looked into it—which was surprising, considering it stands in Gotham City, murder capital of the world.

   By process of elimination and lack of evidence, you're confident that any entity living here is probably a human spirit that's either wandering in from the metaphorical street, or someone who worked here for so long that it was more familiar than home was when they died.

   There's always a chance you're wrong, though. Definitely wouldn't be the first time.

   Beside you, Damian is keeping an eye on the rest of the room so you can focus on your senses. You're better at picking up on things than he is in these situations.

   "If you want to talk, we'd really like to hear what you've got to say," you announce. "Might even be able to offer you something."

   The meter ticks up a level. You slowly move it side-to-side, checking for an environmental interference. It stays steady.

   "Do you think you can talk to me? That door was really heavy, and you closed it by yourself, so you must be pretty strong."

   Damian bumps his elbow into yours. You turn to see him, hoping you aren't about to find something that will haunt your dreams for the next few months. He points his flashlight at a puddle of papers on the floor between two desks. The edges of two of them are lifting and falling like they're being caught by a breeze. There aren't any open windows, no holes in the ceiling. None of the other papers move.

   You bump his shoulder and smile proudly. "Okay, I'll tell you what." You sling your backpack on top of one of the empty desks and jerk the zipper open. You dig past the short-nose shotgun with its rock salt rounds, the box of banishing bullets, your demonic identifier keys. Out comes the spirit box. "I'm gonna set this on the table and turn it on. It's gonna flip through a ton of radio stations really fast. You just need to focus on the word you want to say, and the radio will say it for you."

   Damian watches you set it out on the table. His eyebrows furrow. It looks…familiar. "Is that the old police scanner from the Cave?"

   You pause. You look over at him sheepishly. "Tim said I could have it. He helped me rework it."

   He closes his eyes. "You took a four thousand dollar piece of equipment that could scan any radio frequency in a twenty mile radius and made it into a ghost translator?"

   You pull out the antenna and shrug. "Technically, your brother made it into a ghost translator. And it's called a spirit box, thank you very much." You flick the switch for emphasis.

   It crackles static for a moment, sputters broken words from different shows and songs, and then some talk show somewhere says, "Asshole," clear as a bell.

   You burst into laughter. Damian's eyes narrow. "Even the ghost thinks you're a dick," you wheeze. A woman's laughter coughs through the continuous static.

   "Don't you have a proposition for it, oh great and powerful sorcerer?" He rolls his eyes.

   "She," the radio corrects.

   You get a grip on your composure, tucking away comments you're definitely going to make about this later. Damian Wayne, trans-dimensional asshole. Damian Wayne: even the afterlife hates him! You fake wiping a tear away just to annoy him a little more.

   "Yeah, actually, I do." You straighten yourself back out. "I'm gonna talk to the box since I don't know where you are, okay?"

   "Sure."

   Damian leans against the desk behind the one you're using, just within your line of sight. He's naturally very quiet, and he knows it makes you uneasy when you don't know exactly where he is in places like this.

   "Great. Well, we should start by introducing ourselves." You give it your nickname freely (you never use your real name—something about how names have powers and a bunch of other magical nonsense that went over his head. He gets the gist, at least. She tells you her name is Bethany. "Well, Bethany, it's nice to meet you. Do another spirits live here?"

   "A few," she crackles. "They're—nice."

   You explain the situation to her and trust that she'll relay the information on to the others. You tell her about the landlord wanting to rent the place out, that he'd be willing to trade favors for a good show. Things like leaving a television or two on to chase off the boredom of being stuck in an office building as a weak human spirit. She thinks it's funny, but she likes the idea. She tells you that she used to watch ghost hunting shows all the time when she was alive.

   Damian keeps an eye out for any other activity, but for the most part, he just wants to watch you. You sit on the desk with the box, negotiating casually with a dead woman like it's just some other Sunday night.

   He knows better. As sick of your career as you get some days, for as many problems it's caused you over the years, despite all the things it's taken from you and held you back from—you love these parts. Even though this is just another Sunday night for you, you're still fascinated by the afterlife, by how thin the veil between worlds is.

   It's what you were born to do. You're in your element in this empty building, laughing at a bad joke told by someone you can't see. This is your purpose. Bridging the wide gap between the living and the dead; protecting people from things they never even knew existed. 

   Your job is trying at best, for both of you. It strains your relationship at times, just the same as his heroic duties. His opinion of your work is best described as a love-hate relationship. He hates it for what it does to you, for the trials it puts you through; but he loves it for what it does for you, the purpose it gives you. 

   His opinion doesn't matter there, though. It's your passion, and he'll support you in that until the day finally comes that you turn your back on it. He'll be here to pick you up when it knocks you down. He'll be waiting at home when you drag yourself through the door. He'll go ghost hunting with you for Valentine's Day.

   "Hey, Dams?"

   "Hm? Yes?"

   You're already looking at him, gently packing the spirit box back into your bag. "Ready to go?"

   "Of course." He picks himself up from the desk and waits for you to reach him. "Does this mean we're going home?"

   You fall in step with him back toward the stairs. Hopefully the door wasn't jammed by your new friend. "Oh, I don't know. I thought we might stop for food. Usually we're covered in dirt or worse when we finish up, but we're clean this time. Might as well take advantage of it."

   He grabs the door's handle and yanks it open for you with relative ease. "What did you have in mind, Love?"

   You cock a shoulder. "Insomnia Cookies is open. That tea house on Ballet Street is, too. I don't care, you pick. My treat." You step out to the stairs.

   He follows you with a scoff. "That's hilarious. I pay."

   You chuckle, "Sweetheart, you just helped me make two grand. I'm paying."

   You stop abruptly, turn, grab him by the collar, and pull him down to meet you halfway. You kiss him there, on the stairs of an abandoned office building, where three or more ghosts are probably watching. "Happy Valentine's Day, by the way."

[brainrattlers]

Play It Cool (What We Didn't See The First Time) - Tyson Jost (1/n)

Author's Notes: Welcome for my first bit of Play It Cool (But Didn't See The First Time) - these are bits and pieces I wrote that just weren't long enough for a chapter, or didn't fit what I was going for, but I love anyway and wanted to at least get out there. Some are going to be a few paragraphs, some will be a couple pages. I'm hoping to sprinkle a few of these in here and there, not on Tyson Tuesdays as that's typically when new chapters of Play It Cool come out, but when I can anyway. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Language, sometimes there's a little naughtiness (18+ type, you know the drill if you're under 18) - but not today. Just some curse words because Tyson has a mouth on him when he's not on camera, and AJ works in IT, so she's DEFINITELY got a mouth on her. (I don't know a single person in IT that hasn't uttered some four letter words.. or worse.) Today's installment other than language... it's fluff. I think with Tyson scratched a second game in a row, and seemingly now getting the Avs treatment from the Wild, we could use some fluff with the man.

“Hey babe?” Tyson hollered from the kitchen to the living room where AJ was folding her laundry as he grabbed a snack, “How come you never come to family skates with the team?”

AJ stayed silent as she continued folding the laundry in the basket in front of her, avoiding the question.

Tyson furrowed his brow, poking his head out of the doorway, looking at the back of AJ’s head. Wondering if she’d heard him or not, he ventured back to AJ’s sofa, bowl of popcorn in hand. Grabbing a kernel, he trailed it around in front of AJ’s mouth before she snatched it from his fingers with her lips. 

“You always know the perfect amount of butter and salt to put on it.” AJ smiled and chewed, hoping the previous question would be dropped.

It wasn’t.

Tyson looked at AJ as she paired up some socks of his and tossed them to his side of the basket. She grabbed a tee shirt, when his hand gently pushed her’s, guiding the shirt back to the pile of laundry. AJ looked at him, questioning what he was doing.

“Why do you not come to the family skates? I’d really like for you to come to one with me so I have someone to skate with. The guys even questioned it the last one that you weren’t at.”

AJ was cornered. There was not an excuse in the world that could save her, and the look on Tyson’s face was killing her. He was getting far too good at the kicked puppy look. She looked down, still trying to figure out how to get out of what she was going to have to confess at some point, but coming up empty. Nervous to make eye contact, she kept her eyes downward, and barely whispered her response.

“I don’t know how.”

She continued reaching for the shirt again and folded it quickly, trying to not see what she figured was a look of disgust and disapproval on Tyson’s face. Tyson was trying to process what she had just said, wondering how she managed to have never ice skated before, yet he was skating at the age of 2.

“Hold up, you’ve never? Really?”

AJ continued looking at the laundry, sorting through more socks to find the right pair, shaking her head no. Honestly she just wanted the conversation to stop. The only thought running through her mind was, “He’s not going to love me anymore, what hockey player in their right mind would pick a significant other that can’t skate?” Her anxiety was through the roof.

Tyson reached out and squeezed AJ’s hand. “Hey, it’s okay, I was just curious.” He let his fingers run up AJ’s arm and tickled her neck, causing her to scrunch up and giggle a bit. Seeing her get out from the wall she put up made him feel better.

“I just…” AJ inhaled slowly, trying to figure out what to say. “Where I grew up just wasn’t much of a skating area. Hell, they finally got a (air quotes) rink a couple years ago, and it’s not even with ice, it’s the fake stuff.”

Tyson listened intently, nodding and smiling at the mention of the fake ice. 

“I could teach you, if you want. There’s nothing like it, I swear. The feeling of the air rushing by you as you just glide around...” 

Clearly Tyson was ecstatic about the idea of teaching AJ, this was something he grew up doing, and wanted to be able to share that excitement with her. Unsure of it all, but seeing the look on his face, AJ hesitantly said she would try, with one rather large caveat.

“I don’t want to do this in front of the guys. I don’t want to make you look bad.”

Tyson started giggling. “You won’t make me look bad, you’ll make me look like an AWESOME skater in comparison!”

AJ glared, raising an eyebrow, then smiled back.

The day finally arrived that Tyson was able to convince AJ to come to the rink during an open skate.

“My insurance card is in my wallet,” AJ was only half-joking.

“It’s going to be FINE, you got this. And even if you don’t, I’m not letting you fall.”

Finding a pair of skates for AJ, Tyson tutted at how bad the rental skates were, but helped her lace them up properly and tie them tight. Holding her hand, AJ wobbled, walking to the edge of the boards. Tyson stepped backward onto the ice, letting her have a moment to gather up some courage.

“Tyson, I’m… I’m scared. You know I just had knee surgery earlier this year, right?”

“And I know you were medically cleared, you can’t bowl on a bad knee… you got this. I got you.”

AJ gingerly put her right foot blade onto the ice, and let it slip back and forth. It really did scare her how easily it shifted around. Tyson made grabby hands toward AJ’s, hoping it would help her feel more confident. He scooted back slightly, making her lean forward more and get both feet onto the ice. 

She wobbled like a baby deer.  Tyson found it adorable, until she was white-knuckle squeezing his hands.Shaking them slightly, he did get AJ to loosen her grip.

“Okay, I’m just going to pull you slowly,” Tyson shifted his feet around and started his backward movement, “Just feel the ice under your skates. Slow lap, just stay upright, ‘kay?”

Tyson made it look so easy, just effortlessly moving around, when AJ was trying to just stay up, not lean in any given direction too much. He’d start going a little faster, and could feel AJ start to squeeze his hands again, so he’d slow back down. There were a few corners he took a little faster than AJ wanted and she almost toppled, but keeping his promise, Tyson kept her on her feet.

After a few laps like that, Tyson noticed AJ shuffling her skates a bit more, and felt that he wasn’t pulling on her as much as he was. As a test, he held her right hand only and skated beside her, and while she was still slightly wobbling, she was pretty much skating the straightaways on her own, albeit slowly. She wasn’t loving the feeling yet, still quite nervous about how slick the ice was, but she was getting it. After another lap around the rink, Tyson let go of AJ’s hand completely.

“TYSON I’M DOING IT! HOLY FUCK!” 

Tyson beamed at his wobbly girlfriend sliding slowly across the ice without help, gradually building up speed, until the corner was rapidly approaching… and AJ didn’t know how to slow down, and was not quite prepared to do a crossover step to steer. AJ knew it. Tyson very quickly figured it out, trying to get in front of her so he could take the brunt of the impending crash and to keep her upright.

WIth the whoosh of air that went past her as he skated by to get in front, AJ leaned too much and her foot went out from under her. Instead of crashing into Tyson at the boards, he leapt toward her, reaching out for her midsection. AJ slipped right through his hands and awkwardly fell like a sack of potatoes. Terrified, Tyson looked down at AJ to gauge the damage, afraid to see the look on her face after he had promised to keep her safe.

AJ looked up, oddly enough, laughing.

Tyson crouched down quickly, making sure AJ truly wasn’t hurt. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know. I think the look on your face, it went from pride to OH SHIT in like half a second.” She continued giggling. “I think I’m going to hurt tomorrow though.” AJ attempted to sit up, with Tyson assisting her back to her feet.

The couple skated another couple laps, but AJ had to throw in the towel. Her legs were tired, and her knee a little stiff. Tyson pulled her to the edge of the ice, and helped her untie the skates to get back onto solid, non-slippery ground.

With skates returned, Tyson grabbed his bag, and the two headed to his car. Tossing his gear in the back, he started the vehicle, heading for home. 

“Did you have a good time?” Tyson put his hand on AJ’s in her lap, shaking it a little.

“It was alright up until I wasn’t upright.” AJ burst out laughing. “I think I get what you were saying though, it is a different feeling. I’d probably try again, get some practice.”

Tyson’s heart skipped a beat, knowing that she was understanding why he loves being on the ice so much, the fact he got to share that experience with her. 

But in true Tyson and AJ fashion, that cocky smirk took over his face.

“Awesome, next week we’re working on stopping.”

[dannythedog]

Autumn Nights - Jake Kiszka x Reader

Synopsis: The fall weather has Jake feeling extra lovey

Warnings: None

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my tag list!

~

The chill outdoors managed to sink it’s way into the house, making me pull my cardigan close. I looked out the window, observing the orange hue that was cast over the world. Fall was beautiful. Arguably my favorite season. Leaves twirled to the ground, the sickly sweet smell of rot wafted through as soon as any door opened, and adorable decorations were up all over the neighborhood. Jake and I had recently put up our fall decorations, not quite ready to break out the Halloween box. Hands made their way around my waist, but it didn’t break my concentration. It only made my chest feel fuller.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, beautiful?” he mumbled, putting his chin on my shoulder. I let out a dreamy sigh and watched our little neighbors jump into a pile of leaves. “Just admiring quite literally everything. I love this time of year.” Jake pulled on my wrist, forcing my gaze away. “Come sit,” he ordered, bringing me over to the couch.

He held up a finger as I got cozy. He flitted about the house, lighting our fall scented candles, bringing out a plate of pumpkin cookies, setting down two mugs of hot cocoa, and finally dropping a pile of blankets on my lap. I raised my eyebrow at him as he turned out the lights and settled in next to me. “What’s all this?” He smiled and covered himself up, making sure that at least our thighs were touching. “We’re gonna have a movie night!”

I smiled and grabbed his hand. His attentiveness never failed to amaze me. Jake always knew how I was feeling. He knew my smallest mannerisms, my little quirks, and even my hopes and dreams. Tonight was just the icing on the cake.

“Figured we could watch some kiddy Halloween movies and some horror. Which one do you want to start with?” I opted for horror. The kiddy stuff would make me feel less scared afterwards. He picked some random one on Netflix and hit play, giving me a small smile. “Ya know, if you get too scared, you can hide on my chest.”

A little laugh bubbled from my throat and I gave him a playful squeeze on his bicep. “Right, cause you totally won’t be scared.”

“Please, I’m THE Jake Kiszka. I won’t get scared.” I rubbed his arm in mock assurance. His gray sweater was soft under my fingers, it made me feel warm. The movie played on as we clung to each other. It actually wasn’t bad. It had plenty of jump scares and just enough of a psychological twist to make me afraid.

I stole little glances at Jake. His eyes were glued to the screen, his jaw slightly clenched. His body tensed at the next jump scare and his eyes darted to me. “Scared yet?” he asked a little breathlessly. “Kind of, and I think you are too.” He puffed his chest up some and adjusted the blanket. “No way, I’m here to protect you.”

I grabbed the remote and turned on Hocus Pocus. “I think this’ll be better.” He leaned over and gave me a soft kiss. His hand slipped under my cardigan to rub arm. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so happy we live together. I’m happiest when we’re doing things like this.”

My heart swelled at his tender words. I rubbed my thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you. So much. Being here with you feels like home.” His brown eyes filled with emotion I didn’t get to see too often and I could guarantee it was the same expression I wore when I looked at him.

He held out my mug of cocoa, filled to the brim. “I added extra marshmallows. I know how much you love them.”

For the rest of the movie we sat in silence, soaking in each other’s presence and love. Sure, fall was beautiful because of the scenery and ambiance, but moments like this made it my favorite. Jake’s warmth and devotion came out a little bit more with the autumn weather and I never felt more content.

~

Tag list: @tripthelight-fanfic @always-crushin @ageofsewingmachine @theweightofstardust @edgeofcaravel @ageoffeet @the-salt-is-in-chelsea @tellmama-allaboutit @thefleetofdreams @greta-van-yeet @way-to-go-lad

[mmvalentine]

Hey. Can you write a canon divergence where feyre runs into Issac when she visits her family in acomf and jealous Rhys👀

A little 'fresh mating bond' feysand? Oh yes. Yes I can.

We're All Just Animals

We arrived in the human world a day before the meeting with the mortal queens. Now that we were mated, Rhys was voicing a new interest in the village where I grew up, and wanted to spend a day walking around my old town. More importantly, we wanted time to walk around with each other in a place where we didn't get stopped every other minute to be congratulated by doting citizens. With the bond so fresh we... weren't always up for being around other people for extended periods of time and avoided being caught in casual conversations.

So there we were, wandering the market place like newlyweds. At home, I had put a stop to Rhys buying me lavish gowns and precious jewels. Leave the hoarding to Amren, I always said. But here I let him spoil me with trinkets from local vendors: wooden rings, pressed flowers, and spun sugar in the shapes of birds.

To our great satisfaction, no one approached us. No one knew who we were or wanted to make small talk. I supposed I looked very different now to what I used to- where I had been a pale, dirty starveling last I lived here, I was now fae with decadent meals every day and months of Illyrain training. If I walked past nineteen year old me, I'm sure she wouldn't recognise me.

But Isaac Hale did.

"Feyre?" he called.

"Isaac!" I beamed. Since Rhys and I had been mated, it felt like everything delighted me. Despite the looming tensions with Hybern, I was just so deliriously happy, and the feeling was as intoxicating as it was unfamiliar.

Isaac? Rhys echoed in my mind. He knew exactly who Isaac was.

"How are you?" I asked him. "Where's your lovely wife?"

"I'm good. She's at home," Isaac said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to not stare too hard at me. I remembered how it felt to be dazzled by the beauty of the fae, and I felt a little sorry for him.

"I'm supposed to be bringing home a bag of salt and a few other spices," Isaac said. "Should we walk together?"

Ice crackled into my veins, starting where Rhys's hand held mine and shooting through my arm to my heart. I glanced at him, and if his grip hadn't turned vice-like, you couldn't tell that he was bothered at all.

The mating bond was a strange thing. The ever calm, ever suave Rhys I knew was consumed by the possessive instincts of evolutions past, and I wondered in the last few days where his reasonable self had gone to. I was all too aware of his absolute intolerance of males around me- even his own brothers, sometimes.

"Sure," I said, smiling beatifically at Isaac.

Then again, maybe the mating bond did strange things to me, too.

We turned and strolled down the street together, and as we did, Rhys's hand slipped from mind and slid round my waist instead. Tugged me into his side, and dug a little too hard into my flesh.

"So," he said, his voice perfectly light. "Isaac is it?"

"Yes," Isaac blinked, as if only now becoming aware of Rhys. My smile grew slightly wider, while Rhys beside me only got colder. I couldn't deny the rush I felt when Rhys got like this. When I could make Rhys like this. "I'm an... old friend of Feyre's."

"Funny," Rhys said casually. "I'd never heard of you."

Liar, I shot at Rhys. His talons scraped against the shield of my mind, found purchase and latched on. I shivered.

Isaac chuckled good-naturedly. "Ah, well, I suppose that makes sense, given... ah, our relationship." Wrong answer.

The talons twitched tighter, and the edges of my vision blurred for a second. I swatted at them, and they loosened again.

"It's been a long time," Isaac said quickly, noting the way Rhys and I walked together, the way Rhys was holding on to me.

"Too long," I purred. "We were going to stop by the tavern for a drink, if you'd like to join us." Rhys stopped dead in his tracks.

Feyre, he murmured, dangerously low.

"That would be lovely," Isaac said, and only noticed a second too late that Rhys's expression had lost all pretense at civility and was now openly hostile.

Rhys, I mimicked.

"Fantastic," Rhys said, eyes sparking. "Lead the way then." He gestured dramatically out in front and Isaac, now wildly uncertain, glanced at me before walking ahead of us.

What are you doing? I asked Rhys.

Going for a drink with your ex-lover, apparently, Rhys replied. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

He's an old friend, I reasoned. Don't kill him.

Rhys's eyes slid sideways to mine. Feyre I know you what you're doing.

I blinked innocently back at him. I don't know what you're talking about.

I pried his talons off my mind primly, and they sulked away.

I hadn't been to the local tavern since leaving the human world. It was dark and dingy just like I remembered- although my fae nose now picked up scents that I really didn't need amplified.

There were tall barrels dotted around the room that stood in as tables, and in the centre of the space were a couple of worn couches. We picked up our mugs of ale and sat down on one of the latter. I had Rhys on my left, and I leaned my back against his shoulder as I turned to Isaac. Isaac set his drink on the low table, and sat down on my other side. Moved a little further away when a low warning growl emanating from Rhys as soon as his backside hit the cushion.

"How are your sisters?" Isaac asked, now clearly uncomfortable. Rhys's arms slid around my middle, and his chin rested on my shoulder.

"They're doing well," I told him. "They're much more comfortable since my father's trade has picked up."

"Yes, I've been glad to see your family's good fortune return," Isaac said. He reached for his mug, which happened to be near my knee. Rhys's teeth snapped loudly next to my ear, and I slapped his thigh lightly.

"Behave," I said mildly. I reached up and stroked his hair without looking at him, and he moved his head to touch his nose to my palm.

Isaac, on the other hand, was looking at Rhys with wide eyes and had snatched his hand back so fast you'd think the tankard was on fire. Without a drink, he rubbed his hands together awkwardly. I picked up my own mug, and slid Isaac's across to him at the same time. The taste was sawdust on my lips now, but Isaac drank his down quickly.

"See the Archerons often, do you Isaac?" Rhys asked lightly. He was now circling his nails on my knee, and they were just a bit too sharp. I could feel it all the way up my legs. A craving for more, more, more of Rhys's touch stoked in my belly. Isaac blanched a little at how Rhys's mood seemed to be lurching.

"Uh, no, but the family is well known around town, of course."

Dear gods, I thought. His hands are actually shaking around his ale.

Rhys saw this too, and his gaze went straight to them.

"I see," was all he said, and then he pulled me right into his lap. I would have objected, it was far too intimate for this public setting. But then his hands squeezed on my hips and I realised he was hard beneath me, and all thoughts emptied out of my head. I shifted my hips automatically.

Isaac tipped back the rest of his ale, and stood hurriedly.

"Well," he said. "It has been a pleasure seeing you again, Feyre."

I held out my hand and he touched my fingers. Rhys went deathly still around me, and as soon as Isaac turned to leave Rhys was up and walking me roughly across the floor. Down the hall toward the staircase that led up to the rooms, where the shadows were dense and we were away from the main room. Then he spun me roughly and pushed me toward the wall, where my hands caught me and my breath came fast. Rhys threw up a shield so hard it cracked the beam on the ceiling, and then he had his lips on the back of my neck and his hands pushing up my skirts.

"Mine," Rhys snarled in my ear. His nails raked up the backs of my thighs and I gasped at the sensation. "You're fucking mine." And then with no further preamble he yanked my hips back toward him and sank himself inside me.

I cried out with the sudden movement, and then a wild little laugh escaped me.

"Oh so you think it's funny, do you?" Rhys asked, and started fucking me with his hands tight on my hips.

"A little," I said breathlessly. "Are you jealous of a young mortal man?"

"No," Rhys growled, and one of his hands landed on the wall next to mine, bracing as his pace increased. "No I'm not jealous of that boy."

"Then what's- oh, mmm what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is you're my mate and no one, fucking no one gets to touch you but me." He punctuated his sentence with sharp thrusts of his hips. I arched my back to get him deeper, and his teeth gripped my neck at the junction of my shoulder.

"Well make me yours then," I said, and the words set Rhys off into a frenzy. His hands slid over my chest and squeezed my breasts on top my clothes, and he was fucking me so hard I could barely breathe.

"You wanna be mine?" Rhys panted. "Fuck me back." I moaned and tried to keep up with the hurtling pace he had set. "That's it," Rhys said. "Fuck me back and come on my cock."

Indeed the pleasure was piling fast now, and I gloried in this unhinged, savage version of Rhys that so rarely got let out. Now, mating bond in hand, I had its collar on the end of my leash and I loved it.

My head fell back against Rhys's shoulder and caught my ear lobe between his teeth. My hand reached for my clit, but Rhys stopped me and put both my hands firmly on the wall in front of me. Then his own fingers slid between my thighs and his tongue continued under my ear in time with his hand.

"Come on my cock Feyre," he said roughly. "Do it. Do it now."

And my body knew who it was answering to. My climax stuttered out of me and I spasmed in the cage of his arms. Rhys tightened around me as he fell into release too, and we were shaking and shuddering and coming apart against the dull wood of the tavern.

Rhys rested his forehead on the top of my shoulder while we caught our breath, and then he cleaned us up with a wave. The sounds of the crowd floated back in as the shield protecting us dissolved, and Rhys grinned against my beck as he hugged me once more into his chest.

"Such a wicked, cruel mate," he purred. I turned my head to kiss him, far too pleased with myself, before walking back out in front of him.

I ran straight into a man with as much ale on his breath as was left in his mug.

"Oh hello sweetheart," he said.

And Rhys stepped up behind me and gave such a feral growl that the man backed away very fast.

"Home," he gritted out, and I kissed him hard on the mouth as he winnowed.

****

It occurs to me that I could also have done a whole bit about Rhys reading Isaac's memories of Feyre in the barn, but also it's 11.24pm you get what you get 😂

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

[raphaelsrightarm]

Warmth

So I’ve been having a pretty rough week and I’ve been a bit sad and so I just wanted to write something with sweet boy Mikey and his S/O to help lift my spirits. I hope you guys like it too.

Living in New York meant you had to be okay with the cold, especially when January hit. Those days would usually involve you walking around your own home in multiple layers of clothing, all with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to give you some comfort. But nothing could ever feel as warm as the mornings when you would wake up next Michelangelo. His powerful arms wrapped around you, keeping you close to his plated chest, acting as you own fortress. 

The warmth that came from waking up next to him was more than physical. Seeing him asleep next to you, looking so content and carefree never failed to make your heart melt. They would remind you of how he trusted you. To truly let himself be in such a vulnerable state and not having to think twice about it because it was with you. In those moments you knew you were in deep. You both were. 

Mikey loved being touched. That wasn’t something he was very good at hiding. But growing up isolated from the world, around his brothers who weren’t really the hugging type unless under certain circumstances didn’t really provide him with a lot of options when it came to physical contact. So you made a promise to yourself to make up for lost time. The effects that a simple touch could have on him were surprising. Even so much as a hand brushing over his firm shoulders as you walked by him was enough to set his heart on fire. Ever since you two began dating, when it came to touch he was spoiled. And you planned on keeping him that way.

You tried to think about Mikey rather than the brisk wind whipping across your face, causing tears to gather in your eyes from the sting. Each streetlight causing the small pieces of salt that were currently crunching under your shoes to look like shattered glass covering the side walk. The edges of the street were lined with piles of snow from the plows going by every few hours to prevent the streets from unusable. Each step you took was bringing you closer to home, where Mikey would meet you no doubt, as he always loved  being able to greet you as soon as the door shut behind you. Doing his usual of pulling you into a bear hug, peppering your face with kisses until he would reluctantly let you go. 

Walking home with nothing but street lights to illuminate your vision used to feel like a complete nightmare, but now you felt a sense of security knowing that he was never far. Especially on nights when you worked late like this. You know he’s only a rooftop away as he made sure with his own eyes that you got home safe. Mikey did this in secret for a bit, scared you would be mad if you found out. But the both of you knew (him more than you) how dangerous the city could be, and you knew how capable he is to keep you safe. So him staying a bit of a distance away made you feel safer on these walks. 

As you turned to climb up the stoop to your building, you glanced over your shoulder. There you see a silhouette that is all too familiar on a rooftop across the street. A smile spread across your face as you stepped through the doors, feeling the gust of warm air against your face as you made your way up the elevator, then heading towards your door. It was almost impossible to hide your excitement to see him, to wrap your arms around his neck and play with the tails of his mask. 

Your door of the older building creaked as you pushed it open and stepped inside. As the door shut behind you, you felt two big arms wrap around your waist. You couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on your face as you twisted around in his arms so you could see him, he had a smile on his face to match yours. You looked into his eyes, swimming in the waves electric blue were threads of gold that no matter how many times you stared at you could never get tired of. Every time you had moments like this with him you took your time to memorize every detail of his face, so you could recreate him in your mind whenever the two of you were apart. From the scar on his chin to the crinkles by his eyes whenever he smiled. 

Mikey leaned in to press his lips against yours, wrapping his hand around your back as he pulled you flush against him. The kiss was brief, only because he wanted to help you get comfortable after being at work all day. He pulled away from you, taking your bag off your shoulder, gently placing it on the table next to your door. You began to take off your protective layers, handing each item to him as he hung it up on the coat rack for you. Soon enough you were left in just your sweater in jeans. Mikey then lifted you bridal style and carried you to the couch. He sat down with you straddling his lap, as he wrapped his arms around you once again, pulling your chest against his. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, your fingers fiddling with his chain.

Mikey’s beak nuzzled against the side of your head, just above your ear. “I missed you, sunshine.” He whispered, before pressing kissing against your temple. You smiled at the name. He usually picked a different one depending on how he was feeling that day. You’ve just gotten used to answering to the millions of pet names that he loved to use. 

“I missed you, too.” You whispered against his skin, reveling in the slight shiver that went through his shoulders when you did. “It’s too cold outside.” You muttered, your lips forming to a pout as you remembered that you had to go back outside the next morning. Mikey chuckled, running the tips of his fingers up and down your back. “It’s not so bad, angel. It’ll only be a little while longer before it starts warming up.” He reassured you, your only response was a groan as you got bored of messing with the chain, and went to the mask tails that were hanging against his plastron. 

“Don’t worry, angelcakes. I’ll be here to warm you up.” he teased, before slipping his hands up the back of your sweater. Your back arched in an attempt to escape the icy palms, which were most likely caused by him having been outside as well. “Mikey!” You whined as he ran his hands up and down your spine. He laughed in response as he held you close to him. You sighed in defeat before resting against his chest once again. 

Soon enough his hands had warmed up, stealing the body heat away from the skin on your back. But you couldn’t be mad at him for wanting to be close. His body was enough to warm you up in time anyway. Every so often he would pepper kisses against the side of your head. You two stayed like this for a bit, enjoying the feeling of being together. Having alone time like this didn’t happen as much as you wished it would. Which was Probably why these moments meant so much to the both of you. Each touch sending sparks over your skin.

There was nobody else who could have this effect on you. Absolutely no one. No one could take all of your stress away through an embrace, or know exactly what your feeling just by the look in your eyes. There was no one else for you, he had made that clear. He had began to feel like a home. As you held him in your arms, you thanked whoever was responsible for guiding you towards him. Mikey tightened his hold on you, never wanting to squeeze too hard, but wanting you as close as possible. That's when that familiar feeling spread through your chest once again. 

Warmth.

[beauregardlionett]

hands and tears and bedsheet fears

AO3 Link

Yasha wasn’t sure why she was leading the way to Beau’s room, but it felt right. Beau was so clearly eager to keep going, to lie in bed with Yasha and find infinity. But there also remained a quiet hesitance to everything Beau said and did around her.

Especially tonight.

Yasha knew Beau didn’t want to push her too far too fast—which was sweet—but Yasha was in the mood to be a little dangerous. She was in the mood to press Beau into the mattress with her body weight alone, to taste the salt on Beau’s skin, to chase the pleasure of her tongue. Call her reckless, but Yasha sometimes did better that way.

Besides, they had the whole tower to themselves. Yasha figured they could afford to be a little stupid for one night.

She turned to glance over her shoulder at Beau, a giddy grin tugging the corners of her lips upward. Beau looked somehow soft and wild all at once, her visage sending a shock of thrill through Yasha’s veins. There was a flush high on Beau’s cheekbones, her bright blue eyes glinting with unshielded desire. But Beau was also drowning in Yasha’s tunic, her bare legs only visible from just above her kneecaps down. Her hair fell loose and damp, leaving dark patches of water against Yasha’s shirt.

Yasha squeezed Beau’s hand where their fingers wove together, chest full of indescribable emotion.

They pushed open the door to Beau’s room at long last, Yasha tossing aside the bundle of their mismatched clothing. Beau barely stepped through the door before Yasha had her pushed up against it.

Without hesitation, Yasha’s lips pressed against Beau’s, kissing her with the same fervor as before. Months of repressed feelings and desires that she had attempted to funnel through stunted conversation and longing glances poured out of Yasha. Her lips were the floodgates and Beau’s the receiving river.

Yasha eventually came up for air, forehead pressed to Beau’s as they gasped in each other’s space.

“Bed?” Yasha asked, breathless.

“Bed. Definitely,” Beau agreed, giddy and hoarse.

Yasha laughed, soft and clear, as she ducked in to seal her lips against Beau’s neck. A low noise of pleasure slipped past Beau’s lips as her fingers sunk into Yasha’s messy, damp hair. Fingernails scraped lightly at Yasha’s scalp and she doubled her efforts, hands moving to hold the underside of Beau’s thighs. She straightened up, bringing Beau with her. Beau yelped at the sudden shift before hooking her ankles together around Yasha’s waist and leaning her weight into Yasha’s mouth so she didn’t fall backward.

Yasha turned and carried Beau further into the room, humming her approval against Beau’s carotid she had captured between her teeth.

Her bare feet against the cool stone of the bedroom floor echoed dimly against Beau’s quiet sounds of approval. The fabric of Yasha’s tunic clung almost uncomfortably between their damp and sweaty chests, the only barrier to them being skin to skin. But Yasha found she didn’t mind so much since Beau was wearing her shirt.

Yasha’s knees eventually knocked against the edge of Beau’s bed. She took a moment to firm up her grip on Beau’s thighs before tipping them both onto the mattress. Beau’s breath huffed from her upon impact, dissolving into a moan when the jarring motion caused Yasha to bite at the spot on Beau’s neck she had been attending to. Her fingers tugged at Yasha’s hair with unsteady desire—an encouragement.

Yasha kept at her task of pressing the most obvious hickey into Beau’s neck for another handful of moments before pulling away. She deemed her work satisfactory and grinned down at Beau’s flushed countenance, inordinately pleased with herself. The color in Beau’s cheeks and the dazed but excited light in her eyes gave Yasha all the reassurance she needed. Teasing her fingers against the hem of the tunic, she pushed the garment up and off Beau’s chest.

Beau’s hands moved faster, circling Yasha’s wrists with gentle pressure, but enough to halt the movement.

“Wait,” Beau’s hoarse voice stopped Yasha.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Yasha’s instinct was to fret, to worry that she had made a mistake. The hesitation that had so quickly overcome Beau’s expression left a terrifying chill that settled like a rock in Yasha’s gut.

“Yeah, I just…” Beau rolled her head to the side as she looked away. Her hair—loose and damp—splayed out on the pillow like a halo, her skin still glowing with a light shine from the hot tub. For all that Yasha bore the blood of angelic ancestry, Beau was a celestial vision. (Perhaps her bias was glaringly obvious, but what did that matter when your lives were at risk in a frozen wasteland?)

Yasha slid careful fingers against the sharp line of Beau’s jaw and cupped her cheek, drawing Beau’s attention back to her. All the confidence and bravado that Beau usually wore was absent; left in its place sat everything tender and vulnerable that she kept secret and safe behind the innumerable walls of her daily facade. Yasha knew it was an honor to be privy to Beau’s honesty, one she refused to take for granted.

“What is it, Beau?” Yasha murmured. “Talk to me.”

“This date has been…incredible,” Beau whispered after a moment, tone awed as much as it was hesitant. “And I know this is what others might think is the natural conclusion to a date they have a good time on. But I don’t…want you to think this is an expectation. I meant what I said earlier about no expectations, no matter what we confessed earlier.”

Yasha blinked down at Beau, stunned. They truly must be the biggest fools in all of Exandria. She could see it all now, in hindsight. The glances, the lingering touches, the blatant concern for each other piled and slid between healing hands and violent acts of protection. They had been pining after one another for months. The tension reached a breaking point ages ago, but they somehow stalled the shattering until now. And here Beau was, keeping their fragile composure held together with her bare hands. The jagged edges digging into her palms from the desire to transform into something new, but held back just in case.

All for Yasha’s sake.

Beau seemed to take Yasha’s stunned silence as some kind of confirmation because she started babbling reassurances.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to do this if you want to, but I don’t want you doing it because you think I expect it. And if you don’t want to, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. We also don’t even have to sleep in the same bed—or even the same room. Hell, we can sleep on different sides of the tower if that would make you feel more secure. I mean—”

Yasha scooped her hands beneath Beau’s back and lifted her up, holding her close as she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Beau’s legs straddled Yasha’s, her knees either side of Yasha’s hips. The movement silenced Beau, her lips clamped shut, eyes upset and guarded all at once as her fingers clung to the damp skin of Yasha’s shoulders. She looked down at Yasha before her gaze flicked to the side, looking almost ashamed.

“Beau,” Yasha murmured, her hands settled on Beau’s hips. “I want this. To be specific, I want this with you. There is no more hesitation on my end—I am all in. But if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I meant it too when I said no expectations.”

Beau seemed to deflate under Yasha’s hands, breath gusting out of her chest with a mighty exhale.

“I know that, and I want this, but—” Beau looked a little reluctant here, but she pushed on, gesturing to the bed over Yasha’s shoulder. “I’ve done this part before—quite often—and I know you’re aware that. There is the logical part of me that knows that you understand you aren’t just another one-night stand to feel something. But the other part of me is terrified of the morning.”

The pieces fell into place for Yasha. She firmed up her hold on Beau’s hips in response. Yasha leaned in, pressed her forehead to Beau’s jaw, and left a chaste kiss against her neck.

“It’s okay, Beau,” Yasha murmured with her lips against Beau’s neck. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

She thought she said the wrong thing when Beau choked on a sob above her. But before Yasha could pull back or say anything else, Beau wrapped her arms around Yasha’s shoulders and hugged her fiercely.

Yasha wound her arms around Beau’s waist and held her, let her cry into Yasha’s hair for as long as she needed. At some point, Yasha started rubbing a hand up and down Beau’s back over the tunic in soothing, even strokes. She kept up a steady litany of reassuring murmurs, hoping Beau would understand.

Yasha would not so easily leave again, not if she could help it.

Eventually, Beau’s tears subsided and Yasha got her to pull away so that she could thumb away the tears from Beau’s cheeks. Beau sniffled softly and murmured an apology that Yasha immediately dismissed.

“You do not have to apologize, Beau,” Yasha said as she brushed away another stray tear. “I want every part of you that you are willing to share with me. And that includes this.”

Beau looked like she might cry again, but there was also something lighter to the sheen in her eyes Yasha hadn’t seen before.

“I would like to kiss you again,” Yasha confessed as she continued to hold Beau’s face between her palms. “But only if that is okay with you.”

For all that she looked a mess and her voice croaked from crying, Beau’s answer was eager and immediate.

“Please. Please kiss me.”

They met in the middle, Yasha tipping her head to one side and Beau the other. It was easy and gentle, unassuming. They were content to linger on the other’s lips for as long as they both needed.

Yasha provided the inertia, however, when she moved her hands. Her fingers had gone a little numb where they rested against Beau’s hips. She slid her hands up Beau’s back, just to get her limbs moving, and her hands caught under the hem of the now dry tunic. The pads of her calloused fingers were a warm contrast against the small of Beau’s back, a comfortable heat.

Beau gasped into Yasha’s mouth at the touch, back arching slightly and fingers tightening on Yasha’s shoulders.

Yasha grinned up at Beau’s flushed face, amused and endeared. Perhaps a little reckless again as she put more pressure through her hands to Beau’s back.

Beau would never admit to pouting in that moment, but her lower lip stuck out as Yasha teased her gently.

The tunic didn’t stay on much longer.

[melismaticmadness]

TOILET PAPER

Owen Joyner Imagine 

(ITS A LONG ONE BUT ITS DEFINITELY SMUTTY)

Y/n has been dating Owen for a little over a month, and he’s invited her over for the first night in his new, empty apartment. 

3700 Words

Warnings: Contains Smut (18+), language 

Hope you enjoy!

****************************

Oklahoma City is nothing like LA, I don’t know what possessed Owen to buy a place here when his parents' house is 25 minutes away. Most of his time is spent in LA anyway, but he’s Owen and he wants home to be Oklahoma.

We haven’t been together long but it was nice that he invited me over for the first night in his apartment, sitting on the floor unpacking the last few boxes with some trashy tv on and drinks. What could be better? It’s always nice to just be with him - no matter how boring we are.

As I jumped into my too-tight jeans and put on the button-up crop top I planned to wear, I was a little nervous for tonight. He’s taking a huge step in life, and I’m stuck. My acting career isn’t taking off, college is sucking the life out of me, and I hate my job. Now wasn’t the time to worry about my life though, so I put a little makeup on and turned the music up.

Owen picked me up around 6pm and we stopped to grab burgers for dinner. Eventually, we started making the drive through the city to his apartment. It was so weird knowing that when he’s going home now he’s going home to an empty place. He could do whatever he wanted now, he was finally free. Girls could come and go and no one would know. Girls who are not me could come and go...not that I think he would ever do that. Owen is well known though. He could have any girl he wanted, so I’m sure the temptation has been there. Especially since I won’t put out, not yet. We talked about it and I just have to feel like the moment is right. It’s a big deal for a girl to have sex for the first time.

The apartment is so nice. It somehow feels warm and industrial at the same time. All the paintings he ordered are resting on the wall by the big window, and his tv is of course set up already. Owen takes me by the hand and leads me to his room, abandoning our food on the living room floor.

“Cute. A mattress on the floor, O” I snickered.

“Shut the hell up. I ordered my bed too late and it won't be here for another three days. My mom made me take the mattress from my room at home until it’s here since I wanted to move out now.”

“In a hurry to get out?”

“You have no idea…” he smirked. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“Owen, you better get used to starving because you still can’t cook.”

“Maybe one day you can teach me.”

***********************

Burgers were great as usual, and we put The Music Man on at Owen’s request. He must have just tossed things from his house into random boxes on his way out. I started unpacking and found two hats, a drum pad, hangers, dress pants, and salt and pepper shakers.

I started roasting him for his packing skills and before I knew it he was using the pile of hats as a weapon and was attacking me with them.

“I HAVE NO WEAPONS THIS IS UNFAIR!”

“FIND SOMETHING OR SURRENDER!”

“Never lover boy. You’re going down,” and with that, I found a wooden spoon and started whacking the hats away and eventually swatting him with it.

“I tap out. I TAP OUT!” he yelled in between laughs. I was pinned underneath him on the hardwood floor still playfully hitting him on the butt with my weapon of choice.  

“Ha! You’re no match for me.”

“I think I can win in other ways..” he said, lowering his lips to mine.

I slowly put my arms around his neck and pulled him to lay on top of me. As I was running my hands from the back of his neck down his shoulders, he slid his leg up ever so slightly in between mine. He had gotten so strong in quarantine, not that he wasn’t before, but I could tell he was working out more to keep himself busy. I wasn’t complaining about it though. It felt nice to be held in strong arms.

It felt like we were making out on the floor for hours and we finally came up for some air. It was getting hard laying on the hardwood with this 5’10 blonde on top of me, but I knew he wouldn’t make a move because of our conversation a few weeks ago about me not being ready. That could change now.

“O, since you don’t have a couch yet...can we like to switch or something? You’re cute and all but the floor isn’t.”

“I think my floor is sexy,” he whispered. “Wanna go to my room?”

“Lead the way..”

We were hardly up off the floor before Owen picked me up and carried me to his room and tossed me on the bed. This time our kiss was different. My hands wandered up and down the sides of his body as his tongue traced the depths of my mouth. I returned his edginess by running my hands under his shirt and pressing him closer to me. My hands came around the front to feel the edges of his bare chest and waist. Ungluing my mouth from his for a moment for a gasp of air, I tugged his shirt up.

“You sure?”

“Mmhmm. Take the damn shirt off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He removed the shirt in one quick motion and I propped myself up on my elbows to get a good view. As he tossed the shirt off to the side we both were sitting up and I was grazing my hands over his arms.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked.

Instead of responding, I inched forward and kissed right above his waistband and traveled all the way up to his lips leaving kisses as I went. He let out a strangled breath as I made the journey and stopped me before I planted my last kiss on his lips.

“You’re gonna have to calm down a little if you don’t want me to have a situation to take care of…”

“Who said I didn’t want to help you take care of it…” His eyes were looking down at me and straight through me.

“I was- Y/n, you don’t have to - I was just kidding,” he said running his hands through his hair and looking away from me.

I had to prove that I was okay with taking things up a notch, so I grabbed his hips and started massaging him over his pants. Owen grabbed my face and kissed me, sucking all the air out of me as I kept kneading his hips and thighs. Slowly my hand moved to palm his dick through his pants.

I could feel his chest tense up and he sat up a little straighter.

“I think it’s time I lose some clothing too.. What do you think?”

Before even answering he was reaching for the buttons on the front of my shirt.

He was struggling with so many buttons. I knew they were too small for him to get so I stopped what I was doing and had to pull the shirt over my head.

Owen immediately told me I was gorgeous and I could tell he was trying to look me in the eyes versus at my boobs.

“You can touch me, ya know..” I whispered, almost as if I was scared of someone hearing me, but no one would. We were finally alone. It was just us at this moment. No thought of parents or siblings coming home. No worry about roommates hearing, or puppies crying from outside the door to kill the mood. This was it. I was ready. Tonight, I am going to christen this apartment with him.

Owen’s hands were shaking ever so slightly as he rubbed my arms and made his way to my chest. He placed a kiss right where my cleavage met and I could’ve died. His hands were huge and looking at my breasts in them made me worry that he had seen bigger.

He was kissing my collarbones and tracing every inch of exposed skin with his tongue. He slowly laid me down and said, “You’re perfect. This is perfect. We can stop, just tell me-” His voice was so low and raspy, but I cut him off with a kiss before he could keep talking.

Owen continued licking and petting my boobs, so I decided to be daring. I was dragging my fingers down his abs when I hit the little trail that led into his pants. Instead of reversing my course like I did before, this time my hand wandered lower into his boxers.

Gently, my hand explored the warm skin and curly hair before grabbing hold of his dick and giving it a squeeze.

“Woah,” he grunted, “Can't do that, you’re gonna kill me.”

“I’m still winning then, see?” I said teasingly.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, O. Why?”

“Let me try something. Tell me to stop if you need me to.” He said planting a kiss on my lips after I nodded.

He readjusted himself in his pants and then started attending to me. Sliding my bra straps off my shoulders he lifted me up and reached behind me to unhook it. My breath caught in my throat when I felt the clasp fall open. He pulled it away and I reacted by covering myself up.

“It’s just me. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, just go slow.” Now I was shaking. I want this, but I’m still scared.

“I won’t do anything without asking.” He’s being such a gentleman and I was the one teasing him first.

He pulled my arms down and took a nipple in his mouth. He twirled his tongue around and sucked while playing with the other. My stomach was flopping around and the feeling of butterflies was traveling down between my legs. Owen started giving my other nipple attention with his mouth as his hand traveled down my torso.

His hand stopped when he hit the button of my jeans and just started playing with it. He looked up at me with his green eyes asking if he should keep going.

I took his hand and shoved it into my pants. He was definitely surprised but he found the top of my folds while still staying over my thong.

“Babe, your jeans are too tight my hand is losing circulation in there.” He said pulling his hand out.

“I can fix that,” and off my pants went.

Now we were both doing this dance in our underwear of making out and dipping our fingers into uncharted territory.

Owen suddenly pulled me to the edge of his bed and was kneeling on the floor, nudging my legs open.

“What are you-“

“You still trust me right?”

“Owen, I-

“Do you want me to stop?”

“...No. But I haven’t done anything yet-“

“Let me keep going then you can help me with my… situation,” he smirked. “Close your eyes. Relax.”

I did as I was told and felt Owen reach for the elastic waistband of my thong and pull it down. Oh my god. My cunt was throbbing at this point. I was dying for him to touch me again, but he was teasing me.

His hands started massaging my feet and up my calves and legs. He got to my thighs and kept his hands low. Then I felt him lay next to me on the bed as his lips met mine and his hands rubbed my stomach and fingers inched back down to my cunt.

His dick was pressed against the outside of my body and I could tell he was rock solid. How he was still in his pants, I will never know.

“Y/n, do you want me to stop?” I shook my head no and his finger gently parted my folds. I was holding his shoulder so tight, partly because of nerves and partly because I had never felt this way before.

“Have you touched yourself before? Like we talked about...” He whispered as his finger slid past my clit agonizingly slow.

“Yes,” I gasped, “just a few times.”

“What do you think about?”

I couldn’t answer him. My mind was racing and my heart was beating too fast.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself, y/n?” This time he asked through gritted teeth.

“You...I think about you…”

“Show me how you did it”

“No!” He took his hand out from between my legs, grabbed my hand, and led it down my body to the place he just left.

“Show me.” Owen sat up and slid back to the floor to watch what I was doing.

I lightly dipped one finger down to my vagina and back up to my nub. I started alternating between rubbing circles around my clit and the opening of my vagina. My legs were still moderately closed so Owen wasn’t happy with his view.

He pushed my knees apart and now my pink folds were on display.

“Keep your eyes closed, y/n.”

Owen used one hand to spread my lips wide open and the other to trace my wetness up to my clit. With his thumb, he applied pressure and moved in circles painfully slowly over my most sensitive spot.

Soon his hand left my clit and started poking my entrance ever so slightly. The next thing I knew, his tongue was on my clit picking up the pace and his finger was two knuckles deep inside me.  

His tongue was working even faster now and I was so wet I could feel it dripping down to my ass cheeks.

Suddenly, there was a lot of pressure down there and I opened my eyes to see him two fingers deep in my pussy and his nose hurried in my folds. I was panting and he was giggling at the noises I was making because of him.

His hand never stopped moving but he looked up at me and said, “You’re unbelievably tight. Have you touched yourself like this?”

Truth be told, nothing had ever been inside me until now. Not even a tampon. I never had a reason to use one.

Inside of me, his fingers curled and hit a spot that made me jump.

“You still good?” He asked, stopping everything.

“Don’t stop,” I panted, “please, faster...harder.” I was squirming now with his hand stationary inside me.

“What exactly do you want me to do for you?”

“Keep touching me god, Owen. Lick me again.”

With that, he was pumping his fingers harder and faster than ever and his tongue was flicking my clit. I started feeling like I was hyperventilating and like I was going to pee. The butterflies and pressure building inside of me were intense but the moans coming out of my mouth told Owen he was doing a great job.

“Owen, I’m gonna pee! O, I’m gonna-“ He took his mouth away and replaced it with his hands to watch me finish for the first time. He continued to pump his two fingers and started rolling my clit between his thumb and index finger with his other hand. I was lifting my hips to meet his hand and he was trying to push me back down to the bed. My whole body was starting to spasm and I was a little scared. I was losing control of my body and had no idea what was happening. His hands were like magic. Owen spread my legs even wider and continued his rhythm. His fingers curled into me even further and it sent shockwaves through my body and I was lost in a frenzy. To his surprise and mine, I squirted all over his hands. He didn’t stop pumping and circling my clit until I was squeezing my legs together and pushing his hands away. Owen kissed me as I came down from my high and I caught my breath.

“Oh my god. Owen, I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t know I would pee. Oh my god.”

“Babe, you didn’t pee. That’s just what happens when you get off really well. It’s all good; no worries.”

“I never felt that way before. I felt like I never wanted you to stop but I also felt like I was exploding”

“Well, I don’t have to stop,” he said laughing and fake spreading my knees again.

“Hey, lover boy it’s your turn,” I said pushing him to the bed now.

“Wait, you don’t have-“ I was too quick. I already had his pants down by his knees and was fighting to get them off. After some help from Owen, and him removing his boxers, we were both completely naked together for the first time. He was much bigger than I anticipated with my hand down his pants. That was not going to fit inside me. There was just no way. He could barely get two fingers in me.

I looked him up and down and was taking it all in when he just blurted out, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“Maybe next time, blondie,” I said as I traced through his neatly trimmed hair and all the way down his length to his tip. He closed his eyes and shivered, so I stuck the tip in my mouth.

His eyes opened and bulged out of his head at the sudden sucking I was doing. My tongue swirled around his most sensitive part as my hands played with him at the base and his balls.

Owen tucked my hair behind my ear as I looked up at him. I slid more of his member into my mouth taking almost all of it without gagging. As I slid back to the tip, I let my teeth drag just a bit.

“Jesus Christ, y/n. You gotta go easy on me or I won’t last long.”

With a pop, I released him from my mouth and his dick was flushed and the veins were purple. Twitching as I slowly pumped it with my hands, his dick was releasing a tiny bit of clear liquid. I used my hands to spread it all over him which made my job even easier.

I had an idea, so now it was his turn to trust me.

“O, help me. I need you inside me.”

“Are you sure?” He was breathing heavy and I knew he didn’t want to stop, but would if I asked him to. I wanted this though.

“Yes. Tell me what to do.”

“No, let me take care of you.”

He flipped us over and began rubbing me again while kissing my neck.

“I love you. You know that?” Owen said in between kisses.

“I love you too.”

“Let me just- fuck!”

“What? What’s wrong?” I was startled by how mad he suddenly got.

“I don’t have anything. We can’t.”

“I have an IUD. It’s ok.”

“You wanna- No. Let me go run and see if I have something in my wallet. It’s your first time I don’t want you to worry.”

“Owen, I want to feel all of you since it’s my first time,” I said reaching down and grabbing his dick and lining it up with my heat.

“Babe, it might hurt. I’m so sorry, I’ll stop if you need me to.”

“Just do it, I’ll be ok.” With that, he pushed himself right up to my entrance and I already could tell this wasn’t going to work.

“It’s not gonna fit, Owen. Oh god.”

“Hey, relax. I know you’re nervous but it really won’t fit if you’re not relaxed.” He laughed.

“I’m gonna kiss you as I go in, okay? You can still tell me to stop.”

He went in for the kiss and slowly pushed the tip inside me. It was uncomfortable but bearable.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better, I think. I’m going to keep going.” He was holding his breath at this point as he slid about three inches further inside of me. He didn’t want to rush me but he wanted to fuck my brains out at the same time.

He hit something inside of me and I yelled.

“Ah! Stop! Wait!”

“Okay, Okay. Do you want me to stay or pull out?”

“Stay, stay...okay. Just do it fast.”

He pressed his forehead to mine and broke the barrier. I grit my teeth and cursed, and tried to close my legs. He held me close and wiped a tear as it escaped. We didn’t move for a solid minute as I waited for my vagina to get used to his size.

“Move. You can move.” I whispered.

He gave a little grunt in response and started pumping in and out of me slowly.

After a few minutes of Owen going painfully slow, he lifted my knees up higher and started going faster. I grabbed his butt and started pressing him into me.

“Harder. Please.”

He listened and started pounding me. I didn’t know anything could feel this good.

“Babe, I’m close.” He panted.

“I think I am too.” At that point, he picked up the pace again. Now I was bucking my hips up to meet his thrusts. I could feel him throbbing inside of me trying to hold back. I clenched my muscles a little and heard him let out a high pitched little yell.

I pulled his chain and we were pressed chest to chest, covered in sweat, and fucking like bunnies.

“Do you want me to pull out?”

“No!”

“Then I won’t last much longer,” he slid a hand between us and started rubbing my clit as fast as he was pounding me.

“Me neither.” I spread my legs wider and he finally hit the spot.

My walls tightened and as soon as they did I felt him release inside of me. His moans were intoxicating and I came undone.

“O, O, I’m cumming. Don’t stop.”

He did a few more hard strokes and we both were too sensitive to keep going.

Owen pulled out after a few minutes and I missed him inside me. We were naked, facing each other after being as close as two people could be.

“Thank you for that,” I said.

“Glad to be of service,” he joked.

“I’m gonna go grab things to clean up. Be right back.”

“Mm ‘kay,” I responded, almost drifting to sleep.

“Fuck me.” I heard Owen say from the bathroom.

“What’s wrong, hun?”

“I forgot to buy toilet paper..”

“Guess that means we both need a shower..”

[mimisempai]

Let the magic of my love take care of you

Summary :

Five times where Loki takes care of Mobius with the help of magic and once where he doesn't need it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32777188

2311 words - Rating G

1.

"Hey here!" Loki said softly as he entered Mobius' office.

"Loki!"

"I've come to give you my report on the mission with the new recruits." continued Loki as he came to sit across from Mobius.

"I'm listening."

If anyone entered the office at this moment, there would be no indication that the two men were a couple.

But if one stayed, he would see the way their fingers brushed against each other as Loki gave Mobius the file he held in his hands, the way Mobius moved his chair closer so their knees touched, or the closer than necessary distance between their heads when Loki pointed out a detail on the papers spread out before them.

All these small gestures were evidence of their relationship, but only visible to those who knew them.

Once he finished his report, Loki stood up. His gaze fell on Josta's open can on a corner of Mobius' desk.

"How long ago did you open it?"Loki asked him.

"This morning," Mobius answered before shrugging his shoulders.

Loki took the can in his hand, which gradually turned blue, the color of his Jotun skin.

He kept it for a few seconds and then put it back under Mobius' curious look. On the can you could see the droplets of steam caused by the drink, which was now cold.

He leaned towards Mobius and said softly, "I know you prefer to drink it cold..."

Then as he got up he winked at him before turning and heading for the door.

He turned around one last time, and said, "See you later." Before closing the door behind him under the amazed look of Mobius.

2.

"Papers, papers, always papers! I can't take paperwork anymore!" Mobius threw his pen towards the door, but he didn't hear the sound it should have made as it smashed against it. He looked up to see Loki had just entered his office and caught the pen in mid-air.

"Are you tired of me already that you want to eliminate me?" asked Loki with a teasing smile on his face.

"Aaah Loki... shit, lunch! The cafeteria! I forgot about it! I'm sor-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay Mobius, Casey told me you probably wouldn't show up, seeing as how the last time he saw you the files were piling up on your desk." replied Loki as he walked over to him.

"That doesn't stop me from being sorry."

Loki shook his head, "It's not like we'll never get another chance, and honestly what worries me the most is not that you didn't come, but the fact that you're missing out on a meal again."

Mobius protested, "It's okay I-"

Loki stopped him with a hand, "But as a devoted companion, I thought of you and... tada...!"

Loki twirled his hand and amidst the green swirls appeared... a bowl of salad, which he placed on Mobius' desk after making room.

Mobius couldn't help but laugh as he recognized the bowl of salad.

"What are you doing?"

"...your salad is Asgard in this scenario."

"No, it's not Asgard, that's my lunch."

"It's a metaphor. Just hang in there."

" I want that salad."

"I understood that this dish was your preference."

Mobius replied, raising an eyebrow, "Last time, that didn't stop you from adding salt, pepper and whatever else to it to prove your theory. With a metaphor that by the way was at least as bad as the dagger one..."

"Hey, I was right anyway, well about the salad not the dagger..."

Mobius gave him a knowing smile. He had seen the conversation between Loki and Sylvie.

"Love is a dagger." Loki made appear a dagger before continuing, "It's a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It's beautiful. Until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it…"

Loki offers the hilt to Sylvie. She reaches to take it, but the dagger disappears.

"It isn't real."

"It's real."

"It is, yes," Loki replied, then kissed him tenderly before walking away. As he closed the door, however, he threw out in a serious tone, "Don't forget to eat your salad."

Mobius smiled at his words, who would have thought his lover had a mother-hen side?

3.

"A planet where it rains all the time! Guys... remind me to put this on the checklists of things to verify before teleporting to a planet: 'Check the weather.'"

Mobius had just passed the time-door, soaked like a drowned rat. They had been on a mission to search for someone on an unknown planet where apparently there was only one sort of weather :  rain.

He hated it, his suit was sticking to his skin and he was starting to feel the wetness and cold penetrate his bones. He could not hold back a shiver.

Suddenly he saw a green light enveloping him from head to toe.

Little by little the feeling of cold and dampness disappeared and was replaced by a feeling of warmth and comfort. He was now dry.

He looked up to see Loki coming towards him, as a last green swirl faded from his hands.

Loki stopped in front of him, "I have a feeling that this mission was a pain in the ass, right?"

Mobius replied, "You know my love of rain."

Then he stopped, waved his hand to show himself, and added, "Thanks for that."

Mobius was always pleasantly surprised by Loki's little attention, but even more so by the fact that it showed how well he knew and cared about Mobius.

Unfortunately they were in one of the most crowded hallways of the TVA so Mobius couldn't show his appreciation as he would have if they were in the privacy of their apartment. However, he couldn't help but touch Loki and put his hand on his arm, squeezing lightly and said again in a gentle tone, "Thank you, really."

Loki replied with the same smile by simply nodding and placing his hand on Mobius’ hand, he said gently, "My pleasure, for you, always."

4.

Mobius was staring at the papers in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was about to do something, to write something, but he couldn't remember.

"Mobius? Since when do you bring home work."

Loki's voice as he entered their living room pulled Mobius from his thoughts. He blinked his eyes. "I have to finish this, and I'd rather finish it here." He mumbled, his voice hoarser than usual.

Loki said to him in a slightly annoyed tone, "Did you hear your raspy voice? Did you see your face? You better get some rest."

"I absolutely must finish this."

"Really? When you seem to be having trouble even keeping your eyes open?", Loki insisted.

"I'm fine," Mobius replied.

Exasperation was now evident in Loki's voice, "Only you believe it. Even your colleagues have noticed!"

"I'm fine!"

"Mobius," Loki sighed.

"I'm fine," Mobius repeated. "Just let me fin-..."

A coughing fit interrupted him. He coughed so hard it felt like his lungs were being torn apart.

"That's enough," Loki said in a voice that had no return.

Loki took his file out of his hands, grabbed Mobius' hands, made him stand up and pulled him behind him.

"Hey! Loki!"

Loki ignored him and pulled him towards their room.

"Loki!" Mobius coughed violently again. He felt exhausted all of a sudden and feeling himself spinning, he clung to Loki's hand.

"Mobius, you're burning up!" exclaimed Loki in a panicked tone.

Mobius shivered, as if to confirm what Loki had just noticed. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, and warm."

Loki carefully sat him down on their bed. "The important thing is to get your love fever down, okay?"

He helped him put on his pajamas with gentle touches and carefully laid him down under the blanket.

Mobius' eyes were still open and he suddenly saw Loki in his Jotun form.

"Loki? Did you just transform or am I having a gorgeous hallucination."

Loki chuckled affectionately, "Oh love, only you would call me a gorgeous hallucination when I have this form. But no, it's real. Do you trust me?"

"Even with a raging fever, yes and even unconditionally."

Loki smiled again, and went to join him. He laid behind Mobius, and wrapped his arms around him, without putting too much strength into it, and put one of his cool hands on his forehead.

Mobius breathed a sigh of relief, "Ahhh that feels good. Thank you my love." then he felt himself being swept away by exhaustion, only aware of the cool sensation around him

He woke up a few hours later, much better than before. Loki was still wrapped around him. He turned around and noticed that Loki had returned to his normal appearance.

"You've joined the living world?" asked Loki with a smile.

"Thanks to you," Mobius replied in a still hoarse voice, running a finger over Loki's face before continuing, " No longer blue?"

Loki was surprised at Mobius' almost disappointed expression. He was still a little unsettled by the fact that Mobius loved his Jotun appearance as much as his current one.

"The fever has dropped enough."

Mobius moved a little closer and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

"Thank you for having taken care of me, Sweetheart."

Loki put a kiss on his nose before replying, "I assure you that the pleasure was all mine love."

5.

Mobius dreamed of Ravonna, of her face at the moment she said, "Prune him" without hesitation and he disappeared.

That's when he woke up as he often does, sweating and gasping for breath. He ran his hands over his body, just to make sure he was there and alive. His chest ached under the rapid beating of his heart.

Mobius, still in his nightmare, struggled at first against Loki's comforting hands and warm voice, unable to calm his breathing that threatened to cause panic. He made a move to escape, but Loki's fingers caught his wrist before he could go anywhere.

Once Mobius let go, Loki brought their heads together, cradling him, their noses almost touching until Mobius' breathing slowly returned to normal

Mobius kept repeating, "I don't want to disappear, I want to live." and Loki would nod and whisper words of comfort and reassurance in return.

After a few minutes, Loki asked softly, "Mobius, do you want me to erase these images from your mind? I wouldn't erase the memory, only the residue of your nightmare."

Mobius tightened his arms around Loki and nodded, "Yes... please..."

He put his fingers on Mobius' temple and closed his eyes, concentrating on the images he was sending into Mobius' mind, images of beaches, jet skis, sun and warmth.

Then Loki squeezed him and Mobius buried his head further into Loki's chest and, in a hushed tone, he heard Loki suggest that he concentrate on the slow, loud sound of his heartbeat.

Mobius let himself be lulled by the soft beat as Loki's hands now caressed his hair. He vaguely heard Loki's voice whisper something, "It only beats for you."

Before he could respond, sleep claimed him, and this time filled with dreams of warmth and love

+1

"Oh Mobius, you're bleeding," Loki said, taking a deep breath as the wizard entered the living room. It was late at night, Mobius had been on a mission that had lasted much longer than expected.

Loki approached him, "Let me see."

Mobius turned away and protested, "No, I'm going to put on a little bandage in the bathroom and I'll be fine.."

Loki replied, "Don't be stupid, let me take care of you before you spill your blood all over the apartment."

"What a drama queen!"

"Hey!"

Mobius, obediently sat down on the couch. With calm and sure hands, Loki carefully turned Mobius' arms from side to side and was relieved to find only a superficial cut. A moment later, he returned with compresses, disinfectant and a bandage.

Sitting down next to Mobius, he took the arm in one hand and began to clean the cut with the disinfectant.

Mobius hummed at the relief the treatment brought him, after enduring the rubbing of his shirt all day. He closed his eyes under the pleasant sensation.

"My poor love," Loki said in a low voice, "does it hurt?"

"I've had worse," Mobius replied. He heard Loki soak another compress, then felt it on his arm again, Loki methodically cleaning the cut again.

"I know that, but that doesn't mean you don't have the right to talk about your pain."

A moment later, Mobius felt Loki's fingers on his face, his thumb gently caressing his cheek. His lover's face was so close that he could feel his breath on his lips.

As his fingers left his face, Mobius opened his eyes again.

He watched as Loki grabbed the bandage and began to wrap it around his arm. When he finished, Loki set everything aside on the coffee table and pulled Mobius with him to the couch.

They sat in silence for a while, one against the other with Mobius' injured arm around Loki's shoulders after Loki made sure it didn't hurt.

"Do you know what my mother used to do when I got hurt as a child?" he asked Mobius, and without waiting for an answer continued, "she would kiss on my wound and tell me it would help the healing."

Mobius could hear the tender, wistful tone as he did every time Loki spoke of his mother.

"My wound is well treated now, but I wouldn't mind a kiss." replied Mobius with a teasing tone.

"You know I would do anything to make you feel better, my love." With that Loki turned to him, "Let me kiss it better." Then he leaned over Mobius and kissed him gently.

And not surprisingly, Mobius felt much better.

_______

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[evera6234]

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter I

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY: 

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely.                ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3. 

Lemme know if ya wanna be tagged

OK. Umm.. First fic on AO3. K. We doin this, and we starting with this god awful piece of trash. Yes. Life. Fuck. 

Things ur signing up for:

Big boi Mari & Chloe Friendship Good Vibes TM

My ass shitting on Adrien bc im a salty bitch (and if u aint about that life, its ok. U can leave bc im not interested in fighting with people. No offence or disrespect to adrien stans but yea)

And Adrien stalker moments

Lila and Alya salt (plz see “im a salty bitch”)

Shitty update schedule, if any. I’m counting on yall to harass me to write.

Marinette & Jason “sibling-esque” relationship bc we all need that

An obscene amount of cursing (as you can already tell)

The class will not be  “Our singular communal brain-cell is fucking dead, help.” levels of dumb, but still “I have the IQ of a wet potato sack” levels of dumb.

Eventual negation of canon bc we live that life

“Espresso with a dash of Depresso” Moments TM

I'm originally an MLB fan. So do what you will with that info.

The good old “Ozmav AU” but with some lime and spice

As slow burn as I can

Mental Health stuff and the repercussions of having multiple identities treated completely differently

And the crown jewel of this entire fic… Auntie Harley and Ivy.

And….. sorry…. Ppl will kinda be OOC but im trying my very best. 

Tbh I have no idea where this going rn but... i mean… it going somewhere (specifically hell) because everything does. Leave ideas plz, don’t kill me. Just bully me. 

So yea. Lemme know what u want and if I want to, I might just squeeze it into the fic (if it fit ofc, im not just gonna add random 50 year time-lapses). I'll try my best ;)))) (<-- my quadruple chin)

~

Chloe’s head hangs heavy on Mari’s shoulder as the pressurised air surrounding them vibrates with the sounds… of well… a plane. Chloe had a tough couple weeks; late night combat practises with the new team (LB, Hornet, Viperion and Ryuuko) has obviously taken a toll on her partner. Both wrapped in a thick velvet blanket that Chloe remembered to pack (thank kwami) sharing a pair of headphones, both were lulled into a peaceful slumber.

Alya laughs as Lila tips her small glass of diet coke (that a flight attendant painstakingly poured for her) on a sleeping Marinette’s side of Chloe’s blanket, effectively waking her up. “Oopsies! Sorry Marinette! You see, the cabin air has really been worsening my arthritis. I didn’t mean it! I swear! Cross my heart!” apologized Lila with fake concern as Alya giggles beside her. 

Marinette, literally seeing Lila’s crossed figures behind her back says “At least Chloe is still sleeping, she needs the rest.” Alya, Lila and her empty cup saunter beck to their seats nearby. 

~

Mari and her class finally land in Gotham’s cold December night. Freshly hushed into a private shuttle, the class are driven to their hotel. It is late: around 3:30 AM. With heavy eyelids the class gazed out the bus’s windows in awe. The merging view of traffic and Christmas lights chase them to their residence. No one really remembers or knows what happened that night. Just the feeling of falling, be it into a white fluffy hotel comforter or into the crisp Gotham air. 

~

“Oh! My! Gosh!!!” hears Marinette as Lila on the bus to Wayne Enterprise. “I feel so. At. Home!” In Marinette’s tired ears, there were more exclamation marks. 

“Of course… The only thing that can inhabit Gotham alleyways are cockroaches and villains,” Chloe grumbles beneath her breath, looking out the window.

“What have I ever done to you Chloe?” Lila cries, “I understand why Marinette bullies me, she is a jealous and vile girl. But I thought you, Chloe, want to be a better person, not a bully like that bitch, Marinette!”

“How dare you. How dare you. HOW DARE YOU!” Chloe yells as the recent words loop in her mind, 

“Not gonna call your daddy, huh?” Alya taunts. 

Chloe, with tears in her eyes begins, but is quickly interrupted by Marinette, “No she will not. She doesn’t need to. Chloe grew a lot over the last couple months, I’m so proud of her. She doesn’t need your bitch-ass approval.” Marinette grasps Chloe’s hand which previously wrapped itself around the fabric of Chloe’s heavy caramel winter coat.

“Quiet on the bus!”, A yell came from the front.

“But, Mr. Bus Driver… Marinette is being a…”

“Shut it! Y’all want me to kamikaze this shit into a building? I’m guessing y’all value your lives so shut it!” 

“Ms.Guardian, can I please have a cookie?” Pollen softly asks from the inside of Chloe’s giant white faux leather handbag.

“Shh… Pollen! Now’s not the time!!!” stresses Tikki.

“Please Ms. Guardian!!! I’m so so so hungry. This bag isn’t very warm and it’s taking all my energy to keep warm. A lil blubber wouldn’t hurt…. please!!”.

“Of course Pollen,” quietly respond Mari with a grin, “Here you go.” She pulls out a couple cookies from a Tupperware and hands them to Pollen. “Please share them with Tikki,” whispers Marinette into the bag. 

Marinette and Chloe then hears two tiny “thank you”s followed by the sound that can only be described increasingly aggressive chomping. Both girls giggle quietly.

~

“Welcome to Gotham,” says an unenthusiastic man at the front desk. “Congratulations, you are…” He checks his computer. “On time? Interesting.”

“Yes, we are aware,” grumbles Mrs. Bustier, already done with the man’s attitude.

“Okay so before the tour starts I’m doing to need the student who set-up this field trip to sign a couple forms and stuff. Here ya go.” The man pushed a thicc pile of paper into the teachers hand. 

“Oooh! That would be me sir!” Lila chirped, intercepting the papers before skipping back to her posse of her’s. A few seconds after beginning to fill out paperwork Lila cries “Ouch! My wrist! My arthritis! Can someone help me filling out all these form.” 

“I’ll fill them out, I’m only going to need your signatures,” offered Max.

“Thank you Max, you are so sweet!” Lila complements. 

“Of course, your arthritis was badly affected by the altitude yesterday, you shouldn’t be staining your wrist so early!” Max blushed. 

“Maribug, you gonna to say something?” 

“Nah, just watch. Entertainment without a Netflix membership.”