#i was going to put it with other scenes but nothing held as much weight as........ this

[lyctorism]

Five + the most dad stance I have ever seen

[sorencd]

EVERYONE ADORES YOU (AT LEAST I DO)

pairing: neil perry x shy!reader

word count: 1k

a/n: here it is! i finally got around with finishing it :) anyways NEILNEILENEILENEMWA

masterlist

the piece of paper you erratically scribbled your poem onto crumpled as you clutched it harder in your clasp, your palms sweaty and jittery. no matter how hard you tried convincing yourself that the other students in your class are all mature, sensible, and rational people, it never ceases the perpetual fickle thumps of your heart.

it annoyed you to no end. how easily it was for situations like this to put you in a wave of emotions. you took a deep breath for the upteempth time before standing up on weakened legs. it always annoyed you, how you’re this impossibly nervous to speak in front of a crowd of people. numerous times has people told you to just ‘tough it out’, but it was never that easy.

you slowly walked to the front on shaky legs and a laser focus on the board, trying to ignore the few stares the others had on you. it felt like a million people had their attention on your every single movement, and amongst the handful of observant stares, lies a worried and concerned one. neil knew how shy you were and it takes a bit of coaxing for you to peek out of your shell. he could already tell that you were having a hard time from the moment he saw you clutch your piece of paper.

you were standing close to the board with your back against it, now everyone was surely looking at you. you couldn’t help but tilt your head downwards and you tried muttering a word out, any word at all. but nothing came out.

"ms. (y/l/n)?"

the invisible weight that rested upon your shoulders made its presence known as you heard your name being called, depriving you of the ability to properly function. the air was acting as if it was non-existent and the atmosphere was suffocating. it made you feel trapped, you hated it. it was hard putting this much pressure on yourself, but you didn't know how to avoid it. no matter how many words of encouragement you mumble out of your lips, it all never seemed to help. tears were starting to prick your eyes as you tried rubbing your hand against your clothes to maybe relieve the stress that had you on a chokehold. it came to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore, and made a beeline for the door to exit the room, ignoring their calls and not hearing the footsteps that came after yours.

standing outside the hall was refreshing. it was empty during these times due to class hours and you were so grateful that no one would see you crying because you were so shaken up by merely presenting to an audience. you slid down and crouched against the wall and held your face, your feeble attempts of wiping the tears away proved useless and you rested a hand atop your chest to atleast give you some purchase from your heaved exhaling.

"(y/n)?"

you quickly lifted your head up at the voice above you, shock filling your veins. it was neil. he must've been so worried because of your sudden departure.

"are you okay?" neil asked in a soft tone, his voice waking you up from the daze you didn’t know you were in, you didn’t notice how tight your chest was. you couldn’t fully focus on the words that came out of his lips and you couldn’t fully process what was going on. you looked so small, keeping your knees close to your chest and beads of sweat continued running down your forehead. he knelt down beside you and sat down on the ground, not wanting to intimidate you if he were to stand up and talk down on you. he wanted you to feel comfortable with him no matter the circumstance.

“i’m-i’m sorry..” you hid your hands, no longer being able to hold back the tears that your eyes desperately wanted to release. you know yourself that it’s no good trying to bottle up your feelings, but you weren’t exactly good at doing that and you had a difficult time expressing your thoughts. what an amazing combo bestowed upon you. “i shouldn’t have made a scene.. i was being overly dramatic.”

neil patiently waited for you to pour everything that was flooding your mind out, not wanting you to get overwhelmed by immediately telling you how to handle things. he didn't want you to pushing down and invalidating your feelings. he gently rubbed your back in circles, his warm touch steadying your ragged breathe and pulling you back from the headspace you threw yourself in.

"they're probably laughing at me right now. i'm not going back in there."

he saw your lips quiver at the thought of possibly returning inside and resuming where you left off. you bet the class paused because of your sudden outburst, you felt ashamed. another batch of fresh tears and a soft sob resounded into the quiet hallway. just the mere scene of you being so vulnerable and your cheeks painted with tears shattered neil's heart into a thousand fragments─ it felt like a knife jagged itself into his heart,

"they're not. you don’t have to talk in front of all of them. i could talk to mr. keating, i'll ask if you can just present in private. just you and him. how does that sound?"

your heart squeezed at each syllable that entered your ears. neil knew just what you needed to hear, you don't know what you'd do without him. he saw you give a weak nod and your nose scrunched up while you wept a little bit more.

"you're doing great, (y/n). you can always try again! don't push yourself too much, my love. if they heard the poem you wrote, i know they'll love it as much as i did! i'm proud of you."

now you were full on sobbing. neil pulled you into his arms and stroked the back of your head and tenderly kissing the spot behind your ear. a gesture that you've grown to love everytime he did it─ he always knew what to do.

"we'll go back in whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[nishiyako]

Iced (NSFW)

Paring : ProHero!Kirishima x Insecure!Reader

Tags : ice play, body worship, vaginal penetration, creampie, mind numbing, panty stealing

Summary : As the wife of pro-hero Red Riot, you try your best to look presentable always. After an anniversary dinner, Ejrio notices you get insecure about your weight very easily, no problem. a bit of Ice and cock will clear your mind perfectly.

Being the wife of such a popular pro-hero, Red Riot wasent always easy. You always tried to look your best when you were out with Ejiro, high heels and dresses that would hug every part of your toned body. You didn't do any hero-work yourself. You always tried to keep your body in perfect shape.

You always looked like a living barbie in public, but in private, that's when you still shined for him.

Your hair would be freshly dried as you walked around wearing nothing but his sweatshirt, snacking on whatever food there was in the house.

The countless times Ejiro fucked you over the kitchen islands always gave your ego a little boost as he knew you were still an insecure girl under all that glamor.

During your anniversary, you wanted to go above and beyond. You wore a fiery red dress to match his signature red hair and eyes. also to show just how much you were his.

"You ready, baby?" He asked as he opened the penthouse door open for you, "born ready." You said with confidence oozing from your voice. As the elevator dropped and you rode in his sports car, you ate at the best restaurant in the city.

As you ate dinner, you noticed Ejiros ruby eyes traced every curve of your body under your dress. Every detail was burned into his brain, like the opening to show off your thighs or the subtle silver jewlery around your wrists or the way your lips wrapped around the straw of your drink.

He was alredy throbing at the sight of you, what if he just started to fuck you right here? In the middle of the restaurant. Letting everyone know you were his. He wanted to embarras you, yes. But he didn't want to cause a scene.

A bit of convincing later, and you found yourself taking off your panties and handing it to him under the table. He held the peice of lingerie in his hands as he stuffed it in his pocket.

He watched you squirm in your seat as your cheeks turned red. The friction of your thighs rubbing together only made you worse, yet you we're so good to watch.

On the way home, Paparazzi was pooling around the both of you as you waited for his car to return from valet parking. He held you close, making sure your dress wouldn't ride up your body. They could stare all they wanted, but that part of you was strictly reserved for him.

Once back at his penthouse Ejiro locked the door behind him as he gave you bedroom eyes, before you knew it you were backed up into his wall as he rubbed you raw under your dress, his lips intertwined with yours. you loved how he was always so straightforward with what he wanted. It made it easier to please him.

You pulled away as you caught your breath, every anniversary it was tradition to indulge in eachother at the end of the day but you wouldn't eat that much during them, but the food was so good you couldn't control yourself.

"Not tonight, honey." You said he looked at you perplexed. You'd always be taking the lead other times, but now you've turned a new angle.

"I ate a lot at the restaurant. Maybe we can do this another night?" You reasoned, yet he didn't really get your point. "You don't want to?" He asked to try to get your perspective."No, I want you too, but I gain weight really quickly..." you said with a silence following your sentenc

His eyebrows raised as he realized you were insecure. A slight laugh escaped his lips as he held you tighter, "I don't care," he said. Okay, rude?

You looked at him confused, "I don't care if you put on a little weight tonight. A man who can't accept his woman for who she really is is an idiot," he reassured. Ejiro loved every single part of you. Sure, you looked like a supermodel most of the time, but he loved every version of you no matter how many there are.

"Now let's get you out of this dress" he said picking you up seamlessly to bring you to the bedroom, he laid you down on the bed as his hands traced down your body, down your hips, down your thighs, then to take off your uncomfortable heels.

He cherished taking off your dress, it was like opening a present just for him, your clothes were thrown to the floor as he left you lying naked on the bed.

He admired you, making sure to memorize every part of you like this. He towered over you as unbuckled his bed, you watched as his hands struggled with his zipper then shorty tugging it down, his pants fell to the floor as you saw his twitching bulge being only slightly covered by thin fabrics.

He started to walk away, and he exited the room, shutting the door. You questioned if you did anything wrong for him to leave so suddenly, or maybe he had a suprise.

In a blink of an eye, he was back, this time holding a cup full of ice. He had a smirk on his face as he knew exactly what to do with them.

He started to strip himself after placing the ice on the bedside table, "what's going on?" You asked. He didn't bother with a proper response. All he did was give you a kiss on the cheek as he took an ice cube and placed it in his mouth.

He kissed you, your lips felt the freezing sensation alredy, numbing them yet making them yearn for more, his lips traveled to your jaw and neck, giving them cold kisses before finding himself in between your chests, gentle sucks and nibbles were placed on your nipples making them perk up from his teasing.

Whines started to creep out of your mouth as his hands teased you. He moved his body lower as his his mouth teasted you with cold sensations, and his hands played with your sopping slit. It sent tingles through your body as the cold drips ran down your body.

He brought the bowl beside him as the ice melted in his mouth. He took a new ice cube as the frozen water dripped down his wrist, he moved his body lower as he started to kiss your sensitive clit, he toyed with you even more.

He rubbed the ice over your belly, you hatted seeing yourself this full but he loved seeing you in everyway. He rubbed the ice kn your clit numbing it only to stimulate and warm it with his tounge.

You started to seep into a fuzzy mindspace. You couldn't think about your insecurities if you couldn't think at all, right? After a few minutes, the ice started to disappear as Ejiro used everything on you, worshiping your body and toying with it to make you feel nice.

"You want it, baby?" He asked slapping his cock on your wet slit, you whined for it practically begging for it. He pressed down on your stomach as he slipped in almost seamlessly, his hand felt how deep he was in you, though it didn't show directly on your skin, it showed in your movements and noises.

Your breath was restless as you clinged on the cold soaked sheets of the bed. His thrusts were slow yet deep. He watched every single movement your body made trying to read your emotions.

Ejiros cock stretched you out so good your brain fogged, he knew he was big so he always tried to be gentle with you not wanting to break you instantly.

The bed started to rock ass his hips, moved back and forth. He was hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you go crazy. Watching you whine and moan for those ice cubes made him want you even more.

He just wanted to turn off that brain of yours so he could pleasure you more. Please you until you go crazy.

Your hands wrapped around him, scratching and etching your nails into his back as he controlled the angle of your hips for more leverage, thrusting into you deeper and quicker.

Your iced body started to warm as the intensity plagued your mind, rendering you useless for the moment. Your only purpose was to make those epretty noises while he stuffed you so good.

All that foreplay paid off, you were close and so sensitive, your body felt sensations every time he thrusted in and out of you, sensations you'd never get tired of.

Your legs started to tremble as his thrusts got lazy. Thank God the walls were thick. Your moans were basicly screams and yearns for him.

Ejiro grabbed you by the hips pulling you down on his cock. He filled you up until the fluids dripped onto the sheets.

You were out of breath, a glisten of sweat on your forehead and a watery shine on your body.

He held you close, cherishing every moment, not wanting to waste a single second.

Note : I noticed a lot of people really enjoyed my "Behind the Scenes" Kirishima fic, so I wanted to write another one! Thank you to everyone who interacted, I've been writing for years, and only now have I convinced myself to start posting.

[natsuphoria]

hello my little friend :) i'll start nice. can i request some fluff with alkaloid? platonic or romantic, up to you <3

hello gayass :) i hope you read these and explode (affectionate) :3 i would say these lean towards romantic but aira’s and mayoi’s could be seen as platonic <3

alkaloid + fluff

reader : gender neutral, no pronouns used, reader bakes in tatsumi's scenario type : scenarios warnings : none word count : 1024... yeah i kinda got carried away

a pleasant shiver runs from the back of your head to the base of your spine as you rouse from your slumber. you yawn softly, nuzzling into the warmth pressed against your cheek, and stilling in surprise when the warmth hugs you back. 

“you’re awake?” you feel the rumble of hiiro’s voice in his chest before you hear it. you make a noncommittal sound – not really saying something or the other, just letting him know you’re awake – and readjust your head, your ear pressed to his chest. hiiro hums and moves a hand to your shoulder, squeezing softly. the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. 

the strong, steady thump of his heart makes you smile, and you close your eyes in an attempt to hear it better. “are you trying to fall asleep again?” hiiro asks, an audible smile in the lilt of his voice. your answering silence has him chuckling, and strong arms pull you to a sitting position beside him. “it’s a new day! you can’t go back to sleep now – we’ve got so much to do!” the sweet smile hiiro gives you makes something burst in your chest, filling it with warmth. maybe waking up isn’t so bad if you get to see that smile. 

maybe waking up isn’t so bad if he’ll be here with you again as you drift off tonight. aira, mayoi and tatsumi below the cut!

“waa~ that was so cool!” you can practically see the sparkles around aira as he wears a content, closed-eye smile. 

he’d been looking forward to this live for weeks, and gushing about it for even longer. it was held by a fairly new unit – he had rambled to you about it once over lunch – but it had become somewhat of an overnight sensation. the day he had gotten the tickets, aira had come running to you, holding out a ticket and asking with wide eyes if you’d like to go with him. you had accepted, so now here you are, linking arms with the boy as you amble along the pavement.

“did you enjoy it?” 

you don’t think it’s possible for him to look any happier, but your assurance that yes, you did enjoy it very much has him clapping his hands and bouncing in glee. the scene makes something soft blossom in your chest, expanding to fill your ribs and escaping you as an amused laugh. 

“you know, i’m glad you don’t comment much on how much i like idols,” he starts, fiddling with the keychains on his bag. “most people are surprised that an idol likes idols so much, and say some weird things about it. but you just accept it as a part of me, a-and let me talk about them… uh, did i say something wrong?” he blinks at your wide-eyed expression as you try not to burst into tears at his admission. or grab him and shake him like a maraca.

the best you can do is aggressively reassure him that you’ll always listen to him talk about his interests. his resulting laugh has your face lighting up as well. “does that mean you’ll come with me to more lives?”

“wh-what are you doing!?” 

mayoi, after much coaxing, has finally agreed to put his head in your lap. even so, he refuses to put his full weight on you – my sins may be too much for you to bear! – choosing instead to hold himself above you, muscles tensed. you had just ghosted your fingers over his hair when he had gasped, pulling his shoulders up to his ears as if trying to hide in his shell. 

i’m playing with your hair, you say matter-of-factly, and he whimpers at the thought of your hand on his scalp. “you can’t!” he protests weakly. “i – you’ll be tainted!” 

by what, mayoi, you ask, before switching tactics. you assure him that it’s alright, that you want to do this. nothing’s gonna happen to you. nothing’s gonna happen to anyone. your determination is rewarded when he eventually relents, his face hidden in his hands as you undo the ribbon holding his braid. 

the first contact of your fingertips against his scalp sends a shudder down his spine, a soft sob escaping him. you smile softly as you continue your ministrations, carding your fingers through his long strands. you admire how well-maintained his hair is… the colour, the texture... and before you know it, he’s completely relaxed, fully resting his head in your lap.

he sighs contentedly, almost nuzzling his head into your hand like a cat. soon enough, his breathing evens out and you know he’s fallen asleep. be sure to savour every moment now – you’d want to be able to assure him that this was nice when he wakes up apologetic, right? 

you feel a warm pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. the sudden contact makes you stiffen a little, but the gentle press of tatsumi’s lips against your cheek has you almost melting in his arms. 

“they look delicious," he says, referring to the sheet of cookies you're about to put in the oven. you laugh – that's uncooked dough, tatsumi, you'll get sick – and he chuckles in response. "my point still stands," he remarks. "i can hardly wait until they're ready to eat."

you feel tatsumi's soft gaze on you as you place the tray in the oven. growing flustered, you buy time by fussing over the temperature, hoping that he'll look away...

...which does not work. when you stand up and turn to face him, tatsumi's right in front of you, his smile so filled with adoration that it makes something twist in your chest. he takes your hands in his, and you slowly begin to dance to a silent song – a song composed just for the two of you, heard only by the two of you.

the aroma of your baked goods wafts through the air. you let out a flustered laugh and for a second he feels as if he’s reverted to a grinning, blushing, lovestruck boy. the lights in the kitchen are far from flattering, but to tatsumi? he swears you have never looked more beautiful than in this moment, right between his arms.

tags : @tokusaatsus @avigenshin @sleepypengwin @cxffeelings

wanna be added to my taglist?

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 22

Fic masterlist

I’m too much of a chicken to experience something remotely close to the game Rowaelin played this chapter, so I’m thanking Reddit for the lended knowledge lol. It’s very quick though I just always over-research

Warnings: brief mention of a cult, moderate alcohol intake

Words: 3,3k

They were gonna die in this hellhole, and Aelin was killing Rowan a second time when they met in the afterlife.

They’ve looked everywhere for clues, tried cracking the puzzles, turned every hint inside out. This was a dead end, and Rowan only had one job: pick the fucking lock.

Just one more lock to open this wooden box, and they’d be free.

Aelin’s heartbeat picked up when she heard voices and steps outside. They were coming back. The members of the cult were coming back.

She met Rowan’s agitated stare from across the room, but he didn’t make a fuss, just frowned at the lock and went back to work, his posture rigid.

They were absolutely going to die in this basement, and Aelin wasn’t a fan of losing.

Aelin eyed the pentagram drawn on the floor, a heavy weight on her chest. She needed to do it. There’s no other choice, she repeated to herself as she laid down on it, a sense of emptiness taking over.

"To thee, O mighty Game Master, I offer myself willingly. May my sacrifice be a beacon, lightning the way for those I leave behind in the form of one more hint.”

She heard Rowan rushing her way, but it was done. Her self-sacrifice would give him one more clue, and he’d win this game for them.

“Take me, Master,” she repeated.

“NO!” Rowan fell to his knees before her, his arms wrapped around her waist. “I can’t bear it, Aelin. I can’t.”

She stroked his cheek, nothing but resignation in her eyes. “I’m doing this for you, babe. I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Let me find another way. I will find another way, Aelin—“

“Do you want me to repeat the three hints?” The escape room’s employee said through the speakers, “I know there’s a pentagram on the floor, but you can’t make a human sacrifice in exchange for another one.”

Aelin sighed, her body relaxing against the floor. Her clothes must be dirty with chalk now, and she didn’t even want to leave the game, but it would be a necessary evil. Rowan held out a hand, helping her get up.

“How’s the lock-picking thing?”

Rowan narrowed his eyes at her, humorless. “Reverse-engineering,” he corrected.

She crossed her arms, silently asking him to just answer her already.

He sighed. “Not great.”

Aelin analyzed the box and the padlock locking it, then looked at the card reader at the door. One card. One card was all they needed to win this.

Without thinking, she violently shook the box between her hands.

“What’re you doing?” Rowan said.

“It’s a wooden box. Maybe there’s a crack the card could slip through.”

Rowan froze for a moment, blinking at the scene. Then he held out his hands, “Gimme that.”

“What?”

“It’s a wooden box,” he repeated, his tone low and astonished.

Next thing she knew, he was pressing all sides of the box against the card reader. When the door unlocked, Aelin’s laugh was nothing short of maniac.

“It’s a proximity card!” she shouted while jumping on him for a hug.

“It’s a proximity card,” he echoed, tugging her impossibly closer and kissing the side of her head.

Outside the escape room, the employee looked pissed. “The combination for the lock was on the back of the blinds.”

Rowan looked completely unaffected by the snarky Game Master. “You should put the card in a metal box if you don’t want people doing it my way.”

They were met by a cool breeze outside, the sidewalk damp in a way that indicated that it must’ve rained while they were playing inside. She turned to take a look at Rowan, and he was already studying her. Despite the cloudy weather, something about him—his features, the way he carried himself, or the frequency in which his lips tugged up today—had a lightness to it, something Aelin didn’t know she longed to see so badly.

She squeezed his hand and instead of going somewhere—doing what they were actually supposed to do on a sidewalk—he leaned down and pecked her lips. It was a quiet mid-afternoon anyway, they weren’t slowing anyone down.

He hummed contently in a way he sometimes did after tasting her, cupping her face as if she was something precious.

She chuckled and checked the time. “We don’t have to pick up Maisie for another hour, so…” Aelin looked around, checking if there was somewhere interesting nearby; they had time to explore, but not too much time. She pointed at a quiet pub, wooden-looking in an old-timey way. “Wanna go there?”

It was nice having the day for themselves, no work to attend after working the graveyard shift. And as much as family time was her favorite, it was refreshing to do some adult stuff other than sneaking out from the five-year-old to get some action with Rowan.

After they woke up late in the morning, they decided their first date should have all the things they wouldn’t be able to do with a kid. So far, it included a fancy lunch somewhere they couldn’t even pronounce, some place they wouldn’t trust Maisie to hold the glasses. Then they went to a horror-themed escape room—not exactly romantic, but why not?—and their last stop was this expensive-looking pub.

They’d be back to princesses and Paw Patrol and nursery rhymes within the hour, but Aelin was excited for that too, to hang out with Maisie again. She got too spoiled with this new thing with Rowan, sleeping at his house during his days of custody. Now that she saw her daughter every day, Aelin was struggling to understand how she spent two, three days in a row without her. One sleepover at Auntie Sellene’s and she already missed Maisie like crazy.

The empty pub’s lights were dim, and the vintage furniture mixed with jazz covers of modern songs made Aelin feel like she was in an old movie. Rowan led her to a booth by the wall, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off the cocktail section of the menu.

“You want a drink,” she pointed out.

He frowned at the menu. “They just have a distinct selection, that’s all.”

Biting back a laugh, she nudged him. “Go on. I’ll drive.”

“Just one.”

She smiled. “I know, Buzzard.”

He seemed reluctant at first, but soon enough he was nursing his one whisky cocktail with a bottle of water while Aelin drank some mango juice.

“I was searching something online these days…” Rowan said, fidgeting with his cup.

“What was it?”

“I asked when I should tell my own child that I’m dating their mother. It was the first time Google completely failed me.”

Aelin snorted at the thought of a distressed Rowan searching this on his phone. She can imagine why there aren’t many online articles about their specific situation.

“Did you have a rule?” Aelin asked. “For how long before you introduce someone to Maisie, I mean.”

“Did you?”

“Six months,” she answered, plain and simple. “I never got that far with someone after Maisie, but I’ve had a bit of a relationship disaster because of this, so having the rule beforehand establishes a boundary, you know? In case somebody feels like rushing things.”

Rowan only stared at her, lips flat, looking sullen. He does know that she wouldn’t apply to him the same rules she did to a stranger, right?

“You’re not just ‘somebody’, though,” she added, “You’re her dad. That changes things.”

“Was it Lieutenant Cortland?” Rowan asked, completely changing the point of the conversation. Of everything she said, this was what he focused on?

Aelin crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed at him. “How do you even know I dated him?”

The faint blush on his cheeks must be because of the whiskey. “You told Elide, who told Lorcan, who told me.”

“Yeah, I was talking about Sam,” she finally answered, her back resting against the cushioned seat. “Single parents abide by different rules when dating, and not everyone understands that. He wanted too much too soon, and I wasn’t ready.” There was also the issue that Aelin wasn’t exactly eager to get serious with Sam, but she didn’t feel like adding this part to the conversation.

Rowan nodded, looking down at his half-empty cocktail. He looked almost crestfallen, and Aelin was struggling to understand why.

“So… six months.” He sipped his drink. “You want to wait six months before we tell people?”

Aelin wanted to argue that, technically, they’ve already told people; their best friends fit into the ‘people’ category, but that’s not what he meant. Rowan wanted to be able to kiss her in front of Maisie, feel his parents’ pride when he told them the news, stop pretending they’re not a couple at Maisie’s school so those fucking moms would stop hitting on him.

Gods, she wanted that so bad. Especially the last part.

Still, Aelin and Rowan carried a lot of responsibility together. This little bubble with no questioning of their relationship or putting more expectations on them wouldn’t last forever, but she felt comfortable in it.

Besides, Aelin didn’t like to even entertain the thought of her relationship with Rowan not working out so soon, but if it didn’t… Well, she’d like to keep a last shred of dignity, if only to attend Yulemas at Uncle Orlon’s.

“Not six months,” she finally replied. “It’s not fair to use the same rules with you as I'd use with a stranger.” Aelin grimaced. “Three? I tried asking Yrene, but she wasn’t really helpful.” Therapists and their maddening non-answer answers.

“Three months.” Rowan slowly nodded, his eyes vacant. “One down, two more to go?”

“Sounds good,” Aelin said, and Rowan agreed, but he didn’t look like it sounded good. With a sigh, she rested her chin on his shoulder and held his hand. “We can talk this over again if you realize it doesn’t sound good to you, okay? We can talk anything over again if you feel like we should.”

His answer was a kiss to her forehead.

˜˜

“Three months?!” Lysandra shrieked after Aelin told her about that conversation, and her loud tone earned a few glares from the ladies at the table near them, not that she cared. Still, she lowered her voice to say, “Honey, if I had a man like that, Timmy would be calling him ‘daddy’ by the third month.

“I mean, you could.” Aelin wiggled her eyebrows before taking another bite of her chocolate cake. Rowan was currently with Maisie, Dorian and Fenrys at the adoption event, and she used this kid-free time to try on this new pastry shop with Lys.

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I could what?”

Aelin stirred her coffee, a Cheshire cat grin on her face. “Hunter told Asterin and Asterin told me that Wesley has a crush on you.” And this is completely reliable gossip because Hunter, Asterin’s husband, is close friends with him.

“Oh.”

She frowned. “You don’t sound excited.” Half of the single moms had a crush on Wesley, the widowed single dad. Aelin was part of the other half who didn’t really care about him, but could understand the appeal. And she heard her friend comment about how ‘fine’ Wesley looks more than once. “I thought you’d like to hear that.”

“Well, obviously, I’m flattered.” Lys took a bite of her lemon pie, her chin in her hand while she clamped her lips shut to hide a smile. “But I kind of just started seeing someone.”

Aelin gaped, surprised. “Tell me.”

She didn’t know who he or she was, but she was happy for her. Mala knows the amount of shit she took from Timmy’s dad, some entitled man from Adarlan she hated just from hearing a few stories here and there.

“So, remember that birthday party we went to last month?” Aelin nodded, so Lys continued, “You posted a picture with me. You tagged me in it.”

“As millennial Instagram etiquette requires me to do.”

“Your cousin Aedion followed me, and—“

“No!” Aelin poured all the disgust she felt into that one word, grimacing. “I mean, ew!”

Lys straightened her posture. “I get it if you're upset.”

“Why would I be upset? Because you’re too good for my idiot cousin?” Aelin schooled her face into neutrality and sighed, trying to look a little more serious so she could give Lys a proper response. “Look, it’s fine. Just spare me from the sordid details, and we’re good.”

“Alright.” She relaxed into her chair, looking pleased with that answer.

“So you two are a thing now?”

“Not exactly. We chatted a lot and he asked me out, but I didn’t want to go without checking with you first. But I also didn’t want to make a fuss because of one date, you know? So I went. It was amazing. I blamed it on the sangria for making me see the date through rose-colored glasses. So I went on another one, completely sober, just to make sure. It was so good that I almost begged him to fuck—“

“Fucking Mala!” Aelin’s face morphed back into disgust. “Okay, I get it, it’s new. Good luck with his pineapple pizza obsession.”

To be honest, she wasn’t all that repulsed, and she totally blamed it on Rowan. It was those near-daily nighttime orgasms and early morning cuddles—sometimes orgasms again—getting to her head. Aelin was so happy she felt delirious; and after all Aed and Lys have been through in the dating scene, if they managed to find that as well, she was happy for them.

Said reason for her incredible mood texted her, asking her to drop by his place to talk. As if she’d go anywhere else, being his day of Maisie’s custody. His tone almost made it feel like old times, but Aelin knew better. They had a child together, they always had something to talk about.

Knowing her daughter, the adoption fair must’ve been a total chaos. Aelin told Dorian it was a bad idea to bring Maisie along, but her friend insisted on playing the cool uncle.

She promised that she wouldn’t ask for a dog at the fair, but it was just to set expectations. Maisie’s a puppy-loving five-year-old, it’d be ridiculous to think that she wouldn’t throw a tantrum when he saw countless puppies for adoption.

On the way home, her chest constricted to think of a distressed Rowan trying to wrangle his daughter. He was probably exhausted.

Aelin parked her car outside. She grabbed her key to his house—which they recently traded for practicality—but before she could get to the porch, Rowan jumped out of Maisie’s bedroom window, his hulking figure swaying a little as he landed. He darted her way before she could enter the house.

She grasped his face with both hands and kissed him, and it lit her up from inside out, waking up the fluttery feeling that kept mostly dormant while she was away. “Was this a throwback?” She gave the window a pointed look. “Because if you’re trying to make me think of our first night together…”

When he jumped her bedroom window because she still lived with Uncle Orlon and Darrow. Aelin had no idea she’d think about that night to this day.

Rowan didn’t look overwhelmed by memories of great sexy times, though. The crease between his eyebrows was deeper than usual, his lips tightly pressed together. He took a glance at the window he came through.

“We need to talk.”

He looked serious. Way too serious. Aelin took a step back, his keys still on her hand while her pulse picked up. “Is Maisie alright?”

“Yes!” He grimaced, realizing that his secretiveness freaked her out. “She’s alright, but I did something…”

Aelin tuned him out, her mom instincts taking over. She hurried to his front door, as fast as her breathing, and opened it without listening to Rowan and whatever made his speech frantic. She’d check on Maisie, then she’d pay attention to him.

And that’s when she saw it.

It looked like a hurricane passed through his living room. His coffee table was a mess, full of papers and unopened shopping bags. Pet shop shopping bags. A small, pink carrier was left on the corner, close to some uncleaned dog poop.

He wouldn’t.

Rowan absolutely wouldn’t. Not without telling her first.

Aelin shot her most menacing look of disbelief at him but, to be fair, Rowan held his ground. Her fury never scared him but, right now, she wished otherwise.

The house was absolutely silent, and he didn’t fight her this time when she marched into Maisie’s bedroom.

When she opened the door, her daughter’s wide grin paused the boiling under her skin.

“Hi, Mommy,” she whisper-yelled. There was a small ball of golden fur asleep on the little girl’s arm, so she couldn’t get up to greet Aelin. It was obnoxiously cute. Like meeting a new mom at a maternity ward, but it’s little girls and puppies. “I’ll tell you when Fleetfoot’s awake, so we can play with her.”

Aelin kissed Maisie’s forehead. “I’d love that.” Then she left as quietly as she came in.

He fucking did it, Aelin realized, heat plummeting through her stiff muscles.

“Seriously, Rowan?” she whisper-yelled back in the living room.

He opened his mouth to speak but Aelin beat him to it.

“Are you kidding me right now?” she pointed at the direction of Maisie’s closed bedroom door. “You gave her a dog? And you didn’t think to consult her own mother first?”

“I’m sorry.” Rowan looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I tried my best bribes—“

She plastered a fake smile on. “Let me guess, they didn’t work.”

Rowan put both hands up, a flicker of relief on his face, like Aelin was finally beginning to understand him. “Yes! And—“

Aelin could only imagine the scene Maisie must’ve caused. Still, she yelled, “And you have no authority over a five-year-old?”

He does. Aelin knows he does, as much as she knows she’s prone to say hurtful things when she’s mad.

“Come on, Aelin, the house is big. It’s staying on my place, I’m taking full financial and caregiving responsibilities—

Aelin tilted her head back, her angry laughter almost berserk. “You fucking bet you are!”

His entire posture deflated, and Rowan had a wounded expression intense enough she looked away.

“Can’t we just talk?” Rowan’s voice was soft in an uneasy way, a mix of hesitancy and vulnerability. “We could go back to Yrene’s pdfs and—“

“Not now.” Aelin crossed her arms. “I’m gonna rage alone at home until I feel empty, and then I’m gonna think about it. Once I’m done thinking about it without wanting to say mean things to you, I’ll let you know.”

“And if you don’t?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Stop feeling angry, I mean.”

She adjusted her purse around her shoulder. “Then I’ll see you in therapy.”

They were still going, though their sessions have been rather uneventful after they got together. Maybe Yrene knew something like this would blow up sometime. Whatever. Aelin’s not the shrink here.

Rowan nodded without meeting her eye, then let her go.

She didn’t even get her car, needing the small trek to her house. Way too small for all the thinking she needed to do, actually.

The chilly wind bit into her bones, and Aelin soon regretted the thin shirt she wore. The street was deserted, the ruffle of the sidewalk trees being the background noise to her thoughts.

Fuck, that dog is cute. No matter how much Aelin raged, how petty she acted, she knew how this would end.

Besides, it wasn’t about the dog. Deep down, Aelin knew why she was upset.

They got together, and when they were starting to feel like an united front, Rowan committed to a decade-long life decision without her. What was up with that?

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[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S1E2: Valiant

Merlin and Arthur (part 2)

The second half of the episode was a beautiful journey for Merlin to slowly see Arthur in a different light, for Arthur too, in a subtler way.

" I want you to swear to me, what you're telling me is true." " I swear it's true." " Then I believe you."

I love that Arthur asked Merlin to swear. Arthur was a knight and a knight's words held weight. It was like he treated Merlin with the same standard. If Merlin was willing to stand by his words, it must be true.

Merlin looked so fascinated and touched. Gaius just told him his words meant nothing to the King, yet here was Arthur, telling Merlin his words did mean something. From the last episode, we were shown over and over that Merlin wished to be recognised, to put his magic to good use, and that he didn't want to be a nobody. It was only a small recognition, but it must mean a lot to Merlin.

***

Sadly it went very wrong, and Merlin was shouted and sacked by Arthur. Interestingly, when he complained to the dragon, what he was questioning was that he couldn't protect someone who hated him. Unlike in the last episode when he expressed his dislike of Arthur.

He knew he had messed up, and although Arthur's behaviour wasn't great, I think Merlin could sense the heavy burden on Arthur's shoulder, as Gaius told him at the beginning of the episode. Not the full picture, but enough for him to make one last effort to find a solution.

***

" How can you go out there and fight like that?" " 'Cause I have to. It's my duty."

Beautiful beautiful scene... Arthur opened up to Merlin with his vulnerability. Merlin finally understood what Arthur did wasn't just to get" all the girls and glory".

To me, this was the moment when Merlin decided he had to protect Arthur, not just for destiny, but for Arthur. Because no one else, even Arthur himself, would protect him.

***

Finally they made up~ One of the most admirable traits Arthur had was his willingness to admit his mistakes (once he acknowledged them) and make amends. And thankfully Merlin was very forgiving.

Their friendship had grown so much in one episode. It's insane. Only when I sat down and wrote the progress that I realise just how many details were there. Love this episode.

<- Prev Next -> [other episodes]

[loosingmoreletters]

for the ask game? your current favorite ship, and meeting on a train ride au

this couldn’t ever be anything but an ORV fic

Kim Dokja didn’t want to feel uncharitable, but the last thing he needed right now was his train getting delayed because someone had decided to end their life in such an inconvenient way. There were neater solutions to it, though he supposed jumping in front of a train was at least more effective than jumping out of a window.

But honestly, Kim Dokja couldn’t care less. He just wanted to go home and, well, figure out what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life. Maybe he should just read Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse again? Even if the novel had disappeared from the website, Kim Dokja had copied and saved a version on it on his laptop at home. He had left the author many comments, been its only true commenter. It was a story written just for him, he could allow himself this indulgence, especially if he would pay for the novel in the future.

And then, finally, an announcement rang out.

Telling all passengers on the train. Telling all passengers on the train. E-Everyone run away… Run…!

What?

The moment the announcement was finished, the inside of the carriage became a mess, people standing up and screaming. Kim Dokja checked his phone, wondering if there was some other news appearing, yet he saw nothing but the usual weather forecast, the random game apps he had downloaded. And then the time switched from 6:59 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.

At once, the darkness grew heavier, oppressing, the weight of the world bearing down on him as slowly a figure emerged.

[The free service of planetary system 8612 has been terminated.]

[The main scenario has started.]

Familiar words rang out and Kim Dokja held his breath as a scene he’d only ever pictured in his head and drawn clumsily in school notebooks blurred into reality. A small fluffy creature floated above their heads and it proclaimed horrors Kim Dokja had seen as his salvation for over a decade. As people needlessly pestered the dokkaebi, Kim Dokja sat still. This was just like his novel. A train, a monster—

Kim Dokja raised his head, searching for the number of the train carriage. Which one had he boarded?

[3707]

Oh.

This story could only have one ending, could it? And it wasn’t one he was meant to see.

The subway became a bloodbath before the main scenario even started. Had Kim Dokja not read this story before, would he have reacted the same way? Would he be smeared against the glass windows now, dead before the story even really began?

Kim Dokja calmly put his phone in his pocket. Only he knew the future and if he was lucky enough, had proven himself faithful enough to his reason for living, then maybe he’d be allowed to live past the prologue.

A small window emerged in front of everyone’s blank eyes.

[The main scenario has arrived!]

The dokkaebi smiled bloodthirstily before it bowed. [I look forward to an interesting story.]

The next moment, the screaming started again. Kim Dokja turned to the left, the very end of the carriage, from where the people were starting to drop like flies. No question then where the protagonist was. Kim Dokja turned to his right. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the person next to him, they hadn’t moved at all either, had they?

There sat a boy, probably not even middle school aged, holding a box of grasshoppers. Wirely, Kim Dokja thought that he’d need the power boost to face the protagonist.

“Let me,” he told the boy and took the box from him. He opened it just so to get a single one out and pressed it into the boy’s hand. “Now squeeze.”

The boy did as told on reflex, his widening a moment later. With that, Kim Dokja had done his part, repaid the debt he owed the kid. Another particularly gruesome scream and a glance towards the left told him he didn’t have much time. Quickly he reached within the box, squishing all the insects and eggs inside.

[You have killed a living thing.]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

Rapidly, the notifications rang out, and just as quickly, Kim Dokja invested them, and that not a moment too late as the last person standing between him and the protagonist was easily tossed aside.

Kim Dokja grimaced and pushed the kid behind him.

Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him with cold narrow eyes, as if searching for something. “Unusual.”

Somehow, Kim Dokja couldn’t keep from grinning. “Did that not happen in your last regression?”

It was only thanks to his added speed that Kim Dokja evaded Yoo Joonghyuk reaching for him. Yoo Joonghyuk might have killed more people than anyone else on this train, but it was Kim Dokja who’d win the trophy for mass murder, having killed the most living beings.

“What do you know?”

“More than you,” Kim Dokja replied. “I can definitely lead you to the end of scenarios. Make me your companion, Yoo Joonghyuk. You won’t regret it.”

The protagonist’s eyes widened.

Yes, Kim Dokja thought. This is what I stayed alive for.

[wannabeschyulersister]

boobies

pairing: steve harrington x bi!reader

warnings: mentions boobs, a little suggestive, no spoilers

*thanks to @dingusteveharrington for the idea!

Movie nights with Steve were your absolute favorite. They were mostly held on Saturday nights after his shift at Family Video. You thought that after spending all day recommending movies and dealing with the store, the last thing that Steve would want to do is watch more movies.

He was very adamant that as long as you were there, he’d do anything. Even watch movies that were very strange.

“Why are we watching this?” You asked him as you grabbed your soda to take a sip.

He shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a new release. Robin recommended it. She said there’s an interesting part in the middle.”

“I’m going to go grab some popcorn.” You started to get up from the couch but he grabbed your arm.

“You can’t leave without giving me a kiss.” He puckered up his lips.

“Steve, really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve gone without kissing those lips all day.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and kissed him softly. He placed his hand at the back of your head to stop you from moving. You laughed and pushed his chest back, “Steve!”

“Go and get your popcorn now. Hurry back, Pretty Girl.” Steve kissed your forehead before you got up from the couch.

Steve’s house was like a second home to you now. You both normally had it to yourselves. His parents were practically MIA most of the time. When they were in town, you spent time with each other at your place.

You knew that it bothered Steve that his parents weren’t around a lot. He never mentioned it but you could tell by the way he observed the way you were with your own. It broke your heart so you tried to give him as much love and affection that he deserved.

With the popcorn popped and in tow, you headed back to the living room. Steve placed his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head, “I’m glad you’re back.”

It made you smile.

The movie went on. You tried to pay attention but it wasn’t very interesting to you. You wondered what Robin liked so much about it.

During the middle, there was a love scene. The male character took off the female character’s shirt revealing her bare chest. Steve grabbed the remote and paused it.

“Uh, why did you pause the movie?”

He gestured to the screen, “Boobies.”

“Steve, really?” You said for the second time that evening.

Your boyfriend chuckled, “What? I like boobies. You like boobies.”

He was correct with both statements. When you told Steve early on in the relationship that you were into both guys and girls, he was very accepting. The possible reaction from him did scare you at first. Would he be confused? Would he not want to date you at all? Would he tell people?

Your worries were completely unnecessary. Steve was very welcoming with you to tell your story. He wanted to hear about your feelings, when you realized certain things about yourself, even wanted to know if you had a type.

Being bi was very important to you. You never wanted to hide that part of yourself. Steve didn’t want that either.

“Yes, we both like boobs but we don’t need to sit here and stare at them on tv.” You laughed, grabbing the remote and resuming the movie.

“I guess you’re right.” Steve mumbled. You caught him glancing at your chest.

“What?”

He looked back at your chest again, “Nothing.”

You already knew what he wanted. He often asked to do it whenever he was having a bad day.

You moved towards the other end of the couch and propped yourself up. You opened your arms, “Come here, lover boy.”

Steve grinned. He moved towards you and positioned himself on top, making sure he wasn’t putting too much weight on you. He rested his head on your chest, “This is my favorite thing to do.”

“Out of all of the stuff we do, this is what you like most?” You asked him.

He paused, “Okay, I take that back. This is one of my favorite things to do with you.”

You started running your fingers through his hair making him moan in delight. The sweatshirt that you were wearing was his from high school but now your scent clung to it. Steve Harrington was in pure bliss.

“Are her boobs better than mine?” You asked him.

Steve quickly shook his head, “Absolutely not! You have the best boobs.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Steve looked at you, “I promise you I’m not.”

“Prove it.” The movie was boring to you and you were ready for some action.

Steve slipped his hands under your sweatshirt, “Oh, I can definitely do that.”

[ghostofaboy]

Kinktober 2023 - October 6th

Day 6: Leash and Collar, Medical Torture, Sacrifice

Marcus Moreno

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1537

Warnings: Medical procedures, anal gaping, orgasm denial

@absurdthirst Kinktober List | Ghost of a Boy Masterlist

The first thing that should have tipped Marcus off about this being a less-than-routine physical was that it wasn’t the regular doctor. He’d been seeing Doctor Cartwright since he came into his powers when he hit puberty. The kindly old man was getting on in years now and Marcus had noticed a few new faces around the practice over the past few years. 

Glancing around, Marcus could see the other members of the Heroics, both team members and behind-the-scenes staff, all talking or filling out forms. So far, so normal for the annual Heroic’s physicals. Every year, they would come in groups to this practice, who had been serving the Heroics for all their medical needs for years. 

But he’d never met this doctor before. The man currently chatting to one of the admin members of the Heroics was much younger, closer in age to Marcus, and quite handsome. His dark curly hair was short and he sported a hint of stubble along his jawline. Finally, their conversation ended and the doctor looked over towards Marcus.

“Marcus Moreno?”

“Yes.” Marcus smiled politely as he stood, following the new doctor out of the reception area and through a couple of narrow corridors to the examination room. “You’re new?”

“I suppose I am.” The doctor laughed, his face lighting up as he closed the door behind them. “I’m Doctor Cartwright, but you can call me Stuart. I started a few months ago. My dad was your primary physician.”

Marcus nodded and started to head toward one of the two chairs next to the doctor's desk. But Stuart held a hand up.

“As this is my first time seeing you, I’m going to be a little more thorough. Can you change into a gown, please?” He gestured to Marcus’ clothes and then to a small screen set up in the corner of the room. “This might take a little longer than you’re used to, but I want to cover everything.”

“All right”. Marcus smiled, heading behind the screen and quickly changing into the gown provided. Once he was done, he stepped out and found Stuart waiting by the exam table, ready for him.

“Just hop up on here and we can get started.” Stuart patted the thin paper sheet.

The first part of the physical went much the same as many other Marcus had attended. His blood pressure, weight, and breathing were all checked. The whole time Stuart chatting to Marcus about his medical history, and everything seemed exactly the same as when the senior Doctor Cartwright had examined him. Then, the next part started.

“Can you take your underwear off, please?” Stuart asked pleasantly as he jotted down a few notes.

“My underwear?” Marcus hesitated. “Why do you need-?”

“Just a few more tests.” Stuart cut him off, smiling. “Prostate exam, to check your testicles for any abnormalities, that sort of thing. Nothing to worry about, I’m just being thorough.”

His explanation seemed reasonable, so Marcus removed his briefs, placing them behind the screen with the rest of his clothes before returning to the table.

“Now, you can either lay on your back and I can put your legs in the stirrups.” Stuart gestured to them at the end of the exam table. “Or you can get on all fours for me. Whichever is most comfortable for you.”

“I’ll lay down.” Marcus climbed up onto the bed and, after getting comfortable, lifted each leg into a stirrup. “My back isn’t as good as it once was, so any chance to lay down.” He laughed.

Stuart nodded and chuckled. “All right, just shift your bottom towards me a little more… perfect. Now, I’m going to lift these up and apart so I can get a good view of you.”

Marcus nodded, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks as his legs were spread, bearing his cock, balls and ass to the doctor. Stuart wasted no time in checking Marcus’ balls, rolling them gently in his hands and slowly taking in every detail with his fingertips. Marcus knew this was a medical exam, but all the same, he felt his cock twitch with the touch. Mortified by his body’s reaction, Marcus attempted to focus on something else, anything else, but just as he thought he’d be able to push down his building, aching desire, he felt Stuart’s breath against his cock and balls.

Straining his head up to look, Marcus could see the top of Stuart’s head, the rest blocked from view by his gown, as the doctor bent down to peer at Marcus’ genitals. The blood rushed to his dick as the other man’s breath tickled his balls and Marcus pinched his eyes shut in embarrassment. 

“Everything looks good there.” Stuart updated him as though nothing was wrong. “Now, I’m going to check your prostate. This might be a little odd. My apologies.”

Marcus opened his mouth to answer but was immediately silenced by Stuart’s finger easing its way into his ass. The digit pumped in and out a couple of times, working him open before probing deeper. All Marcus could do was lay there and try to ignore the growing heat in his groin. He was fully erect now, goosebumps dancing over his skin as his face burnt with shame. Then Stuart found his prostate.

A shock of pleasure jolted through him and Marcus instinctually bucked his hips off the table, barely able to stifle a moan. Over and over, Stuart rubbed the tip of his finger against the sensitive spot, sending pulses of pleasure rippling through Marcus. The pleasure built steadily, filling Marcus’ body and flooding him with heat. Then, it was over. Marcus sagged against the exam table as the doctor withdrew his finger and made some notes.

"I just want to get a better look in there." Stuart spoke calming, with no acknowledgment of Marcus' straining erection that was now peeking out from under his gown.

Marcus wasn't sure what Stuart had planned until he felt the cold metal against his skin as the speculum gently slid into him. With his powers, he could feel the size and weight of the metal instrument, perfectly capable of opening his hole far more than any finger or cock. His cock gave another throb, a bead of precum sliding down the shaft. 

Then the doctor began to open the speculum, slowly and methodically opening Marcus up. Forgetting himself for a moment, Marcus let out a low soft moan, feeling his dick twitch and ache with the new stimulation. He’d be lying if he said he’d never fantasized about something like this. About being on display for a man to use as he wanted. The clicks of the speculum seemed to go on forever as Marcus was stretched slowly until his hole gaped for the doctor. 

Then nothing. Marcus could feel the cool air of the exam room caressing his entrance. He could feel the throb of his cock, longing to be touched as precum flowed from him at an obscene rate. He had never felt so utterly exposed, and he loved it. His head was already foggy with arousal, and Marcus was barely aware of Stuart returning to rub and fondle his balls once more. 

Something was inserted into him, but Marcus could neither see nor did he care at this point. He needed to come. His balls had never felt heavier as the air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation. The doctor was making notes again, and with a few more clicks of the speculum, Marcus' hole was spread even wider.

What he looked like at this moment, he had no idea, as Marcus lay on the table, his ass gaping. It felt wide enough to take a fist, perhaps even an arm, but Marcus wasn't sure if that was just how he felt or if that truly was how wide he'd be made to stretch. 

"How are you feeling, Marcus?" He was barely able to comprehend Stuart's words as the doctor stood beside him.

"I..." Marcus was shocked to hear his voice come out almost like a whine. A needy whimper as he gazed up at the doctor beside him. "I need..."

"Interesting." Stuart noted something down before pulling up Marcus' gown to reveal his glistening thick cock and engorged balls. Both looked red, almost purple, as though he'd been edging himself with a cock ring for hours. 

"How..." Marcus shook his head, trying to focus.

"There have been theories about powered people and erotic stimuli." Stuart gently reached over to Marcus' flushed dick, stroking up with a feather-light touch of his fingers. Marcus bucked upwards, letting out a throaty gasp. "I've never seen it in action, but it seems you are able to withstand much more than the average person before orgasming. Look, after minimal stimulation, your testicles are almost five percent larger. I'm curious to see if this will equate to an increase in semen volume."

"Please, I need..." Marcus' head rolled back onto the table, dizzy and almost drunk with arousal. "I need to come."

"All in good time." Stuart reached over to a tray, pulling out a long, thin metal rod. "Let's see just how much more you can take. Hmm?”

[wonusite]

Absolutely no one asked but here's my headcannon for nerd!shua x cheerleader!yn's first I love you to each other:

You and Josh have had a fight, the biggest one you've had since you started officially dating, though you had been seeing and getting to know each other for a good while before then under the pretense of being a casual hook up. Maybe it started off as something small, but whatever it was that started the fight, it escalated and words were thrown, feelings were hurt and you stormed out of his appartment that you were steadily becoming more and more familiar with.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad had you run off, slamming the front door in your wake (Mingyu had always said that you had a terrible temper), but after chasing the nerd of your dreams and finally getting him where you want him, maybe you were feeling a little tired of the constant chasing. Maybe, for once, you wanted him to be the one that chased you, wanted him to make you feel special, feel wanted, feel like you were worth being more than a good fuck or a pretty face. Sure, there was no reason for you to be insecure, especially when Josh has done nothing but shown you that he's very much attracted to you, but there's still that little voice in the back of your head that says he's just like everyone else, that he doesn't see past the external beauty, that he doesn't actually care for who you are beyond the hot cheerleader with a hot body, that maybe, just maybe, if he actually gave a damn about you and your relationship that he wouldn't have given up so easily, that he'd fight to keep you around. But he didn't. So here you are. And that's where you guys are at the moment.

It's almost like a scene from a movie, it's absolutely pouring outside, the air is chilly, it's a dark winter evening. Nothing in the day has gone right and it seems like the weather is reflecting that. At first, you're bitter. You're angry that even after everything, Josh still maintains his cold and stoic persona. You thought that maybe you had started to chip away at the cold exterior he always puts up, but the second things started going south, it was like all the work you had done to get Josh to open up to you was undone in an instant. Your first instinct is to be angry and lash out. Despite having left his appartment hours ago, it's like you can't get the fight out of your system, throwing (soft!! And non breakable let's be responsible guys) things around and screaming into your empty apartment, doing anything you can get rid yourself of that burning, that itch that seems to fill your entire being.

After the anger comes the sadness, the loneliness. You begin to doubt, yet again. Was it your fault? Was there something that you did to cause it? Were you just not good enough? The self-loathing, the self-deprication, it all fills you up all at once and you cry. You begin to spiral, wondering why every one of your relationships seems to end in a similar fashion, why no one has ever cared enough to stay. Josh certainly isn't your first boyfriend, and though you'd never admit it (not in that moment at least) there's a part of you that wished he would've been the last. You wallow in self pity for a bit, finally getting all the pent up emotions from the day's events out of your body, finally waiting for the release of acceptance and you to finally start moving on.

Except you never get there. Try as you might, you can't stop the gnawing feeling at your chest, the weight your feel on your shoulders, the way your left hand twitches, longing for something that feels suspiciously like Joshua's right one. Unlike past relationships, you're not able to move on, put on a brave face, keep your head held high and move on like you never even hurt in the first place. At first, you're confused. You've never had a problem moving on quickly and efficiently before, there's no reason for there to be a problem now. You try to convince yourself that this is just the same as it's always been, and that maybe you just need a bit more time this time. But not, there's that annoying little voice in the back of your head, saying 3 little words that absolutely terrifies you, telling you that you can't shake Joshua because he means more to you than the guys in the past, that your affections for him are no longer just teetering into unknown territory, that you've already jumped into the deep end.

You know yourself better than anyone, and that's precisely why you know the budding feelings you have for your the cute nerd from your calculus class are more than just a simple crush. You know what you're feeling goes beyond that, that once you started dating and he started playing the part of the doting boyfriend, that you were a goner, completely at his mercy. You knew, and despite all of it, you were okay with it. You were okay with being vulnerable, with being weak, with having all your cards on the table because for him, you'd do just about anything.

It hits you that the morning might've been your last time to ever hug Joshua, to ever kiss him, to see that brilliant smile of his directed at you. You swallow, a lump in your throat that never seems to get any better no matter how much water or tea you've had. There's a heaviness that weighs down on you, and you know it's not just the blanket you have wrapped around you. It's the inexplicable feeling of a loss that makes the room heavy, makes your head hurt and makes you feel like you're drowning. You've lost the person that's made you the happiest you've ever been, and for what? Because of some stupid fight that you can't even remember the cause of?

With that, you stand because no, you won't let this be the end of things and no, for once, you're not going to just move on and let go. Joshua means something to you dammit, and you're going to make sure that if this is really the end, you've done everything in your power to at least try to fix things and make things better.

Marching your way to the door, you pull it open just to find the exact person you were looking to hunt down, a raised fist to knock and a shocked expression on his face. He's soaked, seeming to not care about bringing an umbrella on his walk from his appartment. Even in the dim light of your appartment hallway, you can see that his face is blotchy and red, his eyes swollen and irritated. Whatever turmoil you've put yourself through, he seems to have had a similar experience. Wordlessly, you open the door just a bit wider, stepping back to let him in. He walks in, but doesn't walk far, opting to simply turn and look at you, a desperate pleading look in his eyes.

There's silence for a moment, nothing but the weight of the tension between you. He takes a shaky breath and you can barely hear the words "I'm sorry" and "I love you" leave his lips before you're pouncing on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips together in a desperate attempt to convey all your feelings into on action. He kisses you back with the same ferocity, pulling you tight against his body as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go for just a second.

When you break for air, he rests his forehead on yours, taking your presence in. You manage to choke out an "I love you too" in the middle of your crying, clinging to him tightly, loving the familiarity and comfort that comes with his scent, his touch. He hushes you, pulling you into another kiss again. You still have a lot to talk about and work through, but you suddenly feel a million times lighter, knowing that everything is gonna be okay again.

Oops I realize I kinda just ,,, threw this at you but this idea has been kind of eating away at my brain for a while and I feel like I needed to just get it out of my brain LOOOL

[milyki]

A Small Whisper of Salvation

Kamado Tanjiro/Shinazugawa Genya

Tags: Hashira | Pillars Training Arc (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Falling In Love, pining shinazugawa genya, Shinazugawa Genya is Whipped, but he doesn’t really realize it, Not Beta Read, Fluff and Angst, Denial of Feelings, First Crush, Shinazugawa Genya-Centric, Overthinking, Fist Fights, Tried to be as accurate to the scene as I could

Summary:

He’s thought about that moment more times than he could count. His words, that of his brother, the heartless assault whirling towards his eyes. Not a second has past since then that it hasn’t tortured him. An inferno blazed in his conscious, the clear disownment taunting Genya ruthlessly.

But his words challenged his own internal ones. The memory of those burly arms hitched protectively in front of him.. the shouts coming from his lips, speaking in defense of Genya.. the compassionate look he was given, burning right into his skull.

Why had Tanjiro put himself in danger for him? What’s the point of protecting him? Why can’t Genya forget about the words serenading his mind?

Or, Genya reflects on Tanjiro saving him from Sanemi, and can’t decide how to feel about it.

Word count: 2,107

Ao3 Link Here

It took a few beats to pass before the colors around him began to melt into place. The vivid flash of the sun’s rays beaming down onto his scarred flesh blinded him before his sense of recognition could clear. Last thing Genya could picture was the way he disappeared.. his brother’s frame vanishing to dust, a hazy blur of movement, a gust of wind funneling towards his eyes.

After that, the mess splattered everywhere. Pain surged up through his gut, the impact of the fall tanked by his untensed back. Nothing that couldn’t be brushed off after a moment — and for some reason, he felt as if that fall prevented a far worse pain he was milliseconds away from enduring.

Shouting buzzed in his eardrums, the easy tide of the mansion turned to a violent hurricane. Other slayers quickly recoiled from the door he had landed on, their eyes turned not to him, but to another force drawing near, looming above Genya and cackling incomprehensible threats. A weight pressed on Genya’s stomach, hands gripped his sides in a protective stance. Warmth boiled in the touch, and subtle squeeze of assurance rocketing across his nerves and turning them to jelly.. it all felt so foreign, how long had it been since he’s been held like that?

The mixture of aghast faces blurred together, the abundance of thoughts whirling through his head became too much to focus on — the weight pressing on his chest lifted off, and a single, serene voice drilled apparent in his ears.

If you say you’re not his brother, then I won’t let you get in Genya’s way! If he wasn’t around, then we wouldn’t have beat the upper moon!

A beaten, bruised body lay planted in front of him, arms stretched out to block anything except the sun’s light from peering behind. Rays glistened onto the figure, a mesmerizing aura radiating from tan, calloused skin, leaving Genya’s mouth agape and eyes enamored with scene playing out in front of him. Another phrase spat from the boy’s mouth like it was sworn to his core.

I won’t let you harm him in any way!

Tanjiro..

What are you doing? He wanted to ask, you’re only going to get yourself hurt, I’m not worth it, stay stuck in his throat. Thoughts raged like an uncontrolled flame, challenging the lit passion of the one shouting back at his brother in Genya’s defense.

For just one moment, the gash on Genya’s cheek didn’t hurt, the look of hatred from his brother didn’t burn in his memory, the chain clamped to his foot from the moment his mother left for work that day didn’t feel so heavy. Nothing was clear, everything in vision resembled a discarded canvas: A painter’s mistake that needed to be thrown out and redone. Colors mixed together, dripping down the sides and creating an ugly mush of a piece, an ugly mush of a life that lacked purpose of where to go. Himejima was too busy with training, his family’s home had been cold for years, his brother — no, the Wind Pillar, just tried to blind him.

Tanjiro had saved him.

And this sight — protected behind a thick wall of fury and compassion, someone willing to defend, cherish, and want him, might just be, dare he say, beautiful. Supple lips spoke with passion, coaxed with sweat and affection that burned right through Genya’s skin. Had those moments before meant more than just climbing to the top? The way Tanjiro stared back at him, not a trace of malice or alterier motive in his eyes, that was all real. Shimmering with respect, a color so deep that Genya found himself stammering with his words and meeting a fond gaze that still gave him goosebumps even now.

Thank you, Tanjiro.

The moments that passed seconds after were hazy. Aniki hurt Tanjiro in his place, scarring his sun kissed skin and causing a violent commotion. All Genya could do was shout and plead for mercy on his friend before being pulled away, his voice ignored and discarded.

Last Genya heard about Tanjiro was a ban on continuing training with the Wind Hashira, as well as approaching him at all. Of course, he only got that out of Himejima after enduring a harsh scolding and a prohibit on speaking to his brother ever again.

Great.

Tanjiro sent letters, many, actually. Before the incident, they were actively in contact, speaking through writing nearly everyday since Tanjiro had woken up. However after the incident, the letters of worry and concern sat cold on Genya’s desk. Read, obviously, but whenever his pen hit the paper, all the words whirling in his gut cast out like a breath he couldn’t suck back in. Even with no reply, the letters didn’t stop.

Normally, Genya’d brush it off as the dumb redhead being an insistent brat, but the image danced in his mind with each line he read from the page. Genya could picture the boy’s face in each word, his eyes drenched in concern, worry dripping from his lips in a pout, anxiously hoping for the sqwack of his crow to bring forth a response. Shit. Any idea of Tanjiro waiting to hear from him made Genya feel ill.

The knots in his stomach provoked gags feeling as if he was going to vomit. At first it raised concerns regarding his demon-eating habits, but was quickly dispelled when it got worse upon rereading the letters. It wasn’t like the redhead had a way with words. Cheeky kid, when finished with his barrels of questions of Genya’s wellbeing, talked about his day, the days of his friends, the days of training, hell, one page consisted fully about his curiosities on how Genya keeps his hair so spiked.

It made him sick.

Boulder training was starting up, and Genya struggled to get a hand on it. Repetitive Action made it flow smoother, but the nagging distraction leeching off his body wasn’t helpful. Tanjiro had told him before in his letters that “confiding in others can help you more than you realize!!", but it’s hard to do so when they flinch or scurry away when you get too close.

In the past, he used to pride himself on his scary exposition. But now, it’s just a nuisance. It got worse when Sanemi let people who witnessed the event move on to Himejima’s training. Combined with his other problems, now they were giving him pitiful stares.

He doesn’t need pity.

Prayers left the boy’s lips, his conscious focused on funneling it into his strength. The boulder was only a few centimeters shorter, yet intimidating nonetheless. It possessed strength that Genya couldn’t imagine coming half as close to, techniques he would never be able to learn, an ability to fight without residing in demon-eating.

Shit, he grumbled, bringing his mind back to the physical boulder. This isn’t the time.

Then when else was the time to think? His thoughts have been plagued by constant flashbacks to those few minutes, constant reminders at his failure to reconcile, CONSTANT images of Tanjiro leaping to protect him at a moments notice. He outsped a Hashira to protect Genya.

Why would he throw himself in danger for me?

A question he pondered more times than he could count. Sure, Tanjiro’s nice to everyone. Kid didn’t even think to scold the crazy boar guy for smashing right through his recovery window. When his face was being gnawed on, he just continued smiling and thanked the yellow-boy for something unrelated right after. Genya just tucked himself into his blankets and acted like he didn’t witness it.

To protect him so quickly whilst tackling the advances of a Hashira, his focus was on getting Genya out of there and to safety.

God.

Genya’s mind flashed through the moments.. when they bathed together, when he overheard Tanjiro worried about his meals, when he ended up bringing one to Genya’s room to share, when he protected Genya in battle countless times, when he let him atleast try to behead the demon when Genya’d been so nasty moments prior.

Why? He choked, hands on the boulder trembling, why go through all that trouble?

Genya felt like vomiting again.

Pants left his lips, his face blazing hot red from the violent sun. He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead, a foreign quiver in his hands. Was he sick? His chest isn’t suppose to be this tight, he wasn’t burning up moments ago, he wasn’t trembling since the heat of battle. Why did all these thoughts turn him so brittle? What about being safely protected hurt so badly? Tanjiro. Of course it’s Tanjiro that tortures his mind when he’s not even present.

“Tanjiro has this weird affect on others”, he remembered Zenitsu snarling as he led Genya away from the scene after things got more calmer. “He lures you in with flattery words then suffocates you with kindness and compassion until you die.”

Genya wouldn’t really put it like that. The way Zenitsu chose to describe it was more .. violent than it felt. Zenitsu complained about his “choking smile, torturous positivity, assault of concern and care”, but just as quickly would do a full switch to gushing about how amazing and lovely he was.

Sure, Genya could relate to the turmoil, never knowing how exactly to feel towards the redhead, especially after recent events. Though, nothing particularly aggressive came with his meetings with the kid. If he had to pick words, he’d describe it as resting your head right under a blossoming tree, mind taken away from the world crumbling back at home. Those moments they had back when they shared a room, talking and conversing freely, sent him right back to the rare peaceful hours, blissfully ignorant of the hell his father raged in the house.

A warm, aching sensation jabbed at his gut, spreading to his hands pushing desperately at the boulder. Shit. Part of him missed Tanjiro, eager to see him again once he climbs up the mountain to join Himejima’s training. Genya hated it. Long ago he had pushed away every feeling of mourning and longing, the nights sobbing about his family too much to bare. Who was Tanjiro? He’s just another slayer, a slayer who’s gotten too close to his heart. Genya shouldn’t miss him, he can’t miss him. That means he’s attached.

Who is he kidding? Of course he is. Every waking moment since Tanjiro tackled Genya out of the way has been filled with him. Genya’s been stuck in the eye, a blissful silence while the hurricane rages around them. He feels needed, important, useful—

If he wasn’t around, then we wouldn’t have beaten the Upper Moon!

“but Tanjiro”, he wants to say. “I couldn’t even protect myself from my brother. You had to do it for me.”

Is it so bad to rely on Tanjiro though? The butterfly sensation he felt in that moment still marinates in his gut. Does thinking about Tanjiro really make Genya feel sick? The feeling isn’t exactly unpleasant. It leeches onto his heart, his skin burning up at the memory. Tanjiro protected him, defended him, worried at his lack of response. Is Tanjiro thinking of him right now? Has he also been teased just like Genya has? The thought makes the raven groan.

Tanjiro..

Genya mumbles beneath his breath, the name pulling up a tiny smile. If his thanks can’t be written down, perhaps he’d find the words in person. Should he offer a meal? No, he can’t cook for shit. A gift? There’s nothing he can scrape up soon enough. Tanjiro deserves far more than whatever junk Genya has laying around. It’d just have to be himself. But strangely, Genya figured Tanjiro’d be satisfied with that.

He drew back the hands pressed against the boulder left the surface, sitting at his sides as he stepped back. The watercolored horizon lost its illumination, slowly darkening to a night sky. All of the other slayers had already turned in, eager for dinner and a break from their torturous labor. Maybe it was time for Genya to give himself a break too. He’s done enough thinking for one day.

One final time (or atleast, for now), Genya pictured that moment. That beautiful sight in front of him. He felt safe, wanted, protected, important..

Thank you, Tanjiro, he thought. I’ll see you soon, okay? I’m eternally grateful for all you’ve helped me.

He stepped towards the hut, navigating through the halls and to his own room. Before Genya’s realizes, he’s flopped onto bed, exhausted, a smile plastered on his face.

Perhaps, after Kibutsuji’s been defeated, we could become closer friends.

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday (but late again)

I'm not entirely sure how two days have passed since Wednesday, when I planned to post this. But anyway, here's an excerpt from the missing scene chapter of my ongoing superbat identity porn fic Love Triangles. No context really needed, except for that Bruce has picked Clark up in a bar, but neither of them know the other's identity. (FYI there's nothing explicit here yet!)

Wayne, unsurprisingly, had a driver.

“Well, I was hardly going to drive myself back from a bar, was I?” was all he said when Clark blinked at it dumbfoundedly. Wayne sent him a wink and added, “I’m a responsible citizen, after all.”

Wayne held open the door for him and gestured with a little flourish, as if Clark were a debutante heading off to her first ball and Wayne her gallant escort. As befit a proper young lady, Clark politely refrained from mentioning either of Wayne’s very public DUI charges and climbed in. The interior was predictably luxurious, plush leather and what was, unbelievably, real mahogany paneling. In a car.

How the other half lived, huh?

Wayne slid in after him and relaxed back into his own seat, loosened his tie, undid the top two buttons with a flick of his wrist. The effortless elegance in the gesture was almost more distracting than the inches of revealed skin around his collar bones.

“Just so we’re on the same page going into this,” Wayne was saying while Clark was still staring, “I have no expectations of you beyond tonight. I hope you don’t have any of me. Otherwise, I’d be happy to drop you off anywhere you’d like. Just say the word.”

Clark shook his head. “No. I, ah. I kind of assumed this was a…one night stand. That’s fine.” The words felt awkward on his tongue like this, as a thing happening to him and not to someone else. But Wayne seemed pleased enough with the response and gave the driver an address in central Metropolis.

Part of Clark had nervously expected Wayne to inch closer then, drape himself over Clark like he had at the bar; to crawl into his lap and whisper filthy promises into his ear. But Wayne remained a perfect gentleman, making polite conversation and all the right interested noises.

Clark couldn’t entirely tell whether he was disappointed or relieved.

It all felt so normal that Clark made it through the rest of the car ride, through the opulent lobby of the hotel, and all the way up to the entrance of Wayne’s suite before what he was about to do really hit him.

It was one thing to say, in theory, that he was going to have sex with someone he just met; it was a whole other thing to actually do it. Doing it meant actually doing it, kissing and touching, figuring out how much tongue was too much tongue and where to put his hands. What if he did it wrong? Not that he’d had any complaints before, but…but what if his ex-girlfriends were just being polite, for the several years they were together? Or what if he’d somehow forgotten how do this in the year plus since the last time he’d dated anyone?

He was distracted enough by the thought that he almost didn’t register Wayne taking his hand and tugging him into the elevator for the penthouse suite. But then the doors were sliding shut and Wayne was pressing him gently into the wall of the elevator, a hand cupping his jaw. He was close, close enough that Clark could see the gray flecks in his irises and faded scars along his jaw.

His breath caught in his throat. Wayne was watching him from beneath thick, dark eyelashes, his stare oddly penetrating.

“You seem nervous. Is this okay?” he asked softly.

Clark nodded. Wayne smiled. And then he was being kissed, a soft slide of lips and the gentle scrape of 5 o’clock stubble along his jaw.

It turned out that Clark didn’t need to worry about forgetting how to do this. His groan felt like a sigh of relief, a weight lifted, all that lingering anxiety dissipating with the simplicity of it all. He easily pulled Wayne closer, hands settling around his waist; angled his head to make the slide sweeter. Wayne chuckled against his lips and pressed closer, his free hand sliding up Clark’s back and gripping the fabric of his suit.

Distantly he heard the ding of the elevator arriving and Wayne was pulling away. Clark finally drew another breath. Wayne’s eyes were a touch darker than they had been.

“C’mon,” Wayne murmured and led him out of the elevator by the hand.

[acotar-thirst]

Tired of waiting (part 2)

Azriel x reader (3108 words)

Summary: You and Azriel found out you’re mates right before he had to go on an important mission. Now, he’s back and things got really really serious… 

Warnings: SMUT 

A/N: Well, I got carried away….. but no regrets. Let me know your opinions, please. Maybe part three??? Who knows.

Part One Here

Requests open

_________________________________________________

    Azriel didn't need to look where he was going, because he knew every detail of the townhouse by heart, so he didn't take his face off (Y/N) while taking them to his bedroom. Using his shadows to open the door, still refusing to take her hands off her and he laid her on the bed.

    (Y/N)'s hair fanned out around her head and her eyes glared at Azriel with a gleam that made his heart rumble in his chest. The Shadowsinger still had trouble believing she was real, that she was right there in front of him and wanting him as much as he wanted her.

    Her hand pulled him by his shirt, making him closer to her. Azriel held himself above her on the bed, without his weight bothering her and the two looked at each other for a while, savoring the emotions of that moment.

    "I hope you know that you're the best thing that ever happened to me," if Azriel's husky voice didn’t show how tremulant he was, then the shaky hand he placed on (Y/N's) face sure did the job. "I will protect and take care of you for the rest of my existence."

    A few tears streamed from (Y/N's) eyes, wetting the hair near her pointed ears. Azriel ran his thumb over the wet trail, wiping the face of the female he loved. She smiled at him, her eyes still watery, her hands playing with the hairs on the back of his neck.

    The bond flashed in their minds, still a little fragile, but there, present and throbbing, as if asking to finally be completed. Their foreheads met and Azriel took a deep breath in the scent of his mate. (Y/N) had never seen him like that… almost nervous.

    “Hey,” (Y/N) murmured against his mouth, her deep voice sending shivers down the male's body. He opened his eyes, pressing his body even closer to hers. “Do you…”

    “No!” he saw the doubt in her eyes before the words were out. Azriel knew she sensed his nervousness and probably thought he didn't want it. “I’m just taking my time to remember every detail of this moment…”

    Her hand trailed across his neck to his face, as if she too wanted to decorate his features there. (Y/N)'s fingers slipped from his chin to the line that began the shirt Azriel was wearing. Grabbing the fabric, the female pulled him back, this time firmly for a kiss.

    "Now, Shadowsinger," she was smiling against his mouth, her tone as if she were purring. “It’s time to make me officially yours”.

    Azriel's nervousness was completely forgotten after a wave of desire filled him when he heard her, his eyes darkening. Supporting himself only with his legs, he released both hands from the mattress and put them into action all over (Y/N)'s body, earning a heavy sigh during the urgent kiss they shared.

    (Y/N) helped Azriel take off the pajama top she was wearing, desperate to give him more access. As soon as the fabric passed over the female's face, he had his mouth glued to her neck.

    With her head thrown back, (Y/N)'s fingers clung to Azriel's hair as if it was the only way she'd found to keep her own lucidity as she felt herself melting under his touches. More and more frequent and loud moans came out of her as the male's hands made first contact with her breasts.

    She risked opening her eyes, and the scene before her had her pressing her hips into his, to ease the sensation between her legs at the sight of Azriel completely focused on devouring her breast. One of his hands massaged the other and (Y/N) couldn't tell which of his two actions were making her that way.

    She'd had lovers before, but nothing compared to the sensations Azriel was causing her. His devotion to caresses was making her lose her mind, no coherent thoughts forming in (Y/N)'s head.

    “Shirt”.

    That's what she managed to mutter between moans, after a tug at the fabric he was still wearing. She was tired of not feeling him. With a 'pop' sound, Azriel removed his mouth from her breast, already red-skinned.

    He practically ripped the shirt off his body, barely bothering to be careful with his wings. Azriel dropped on top of (Y/N) and the two of them groaned in unison as they felt the skin-to-skin contact.

    His hands never stopped roaming her body, positioning himself on her ass and squeezing like he always wanted to do. The breath came out of (Y/N)'s lungs and he smiled against her mouth.

    (Y/N) took her mouth from his, seeing that smug smile she loved, and followed a trail of kisses up the male's muscular neck. Azriel's hips pressed against hers as she licked his skin, savoring the male's taste. Her hands also explored his body, making him shiver.

    With one swift movement, Azriel hooked his thumbs into the elastic band of (Y/N)'s pajama bottoms and pulled the fabric down. He stopped her attacks on his neck reluctantly, earning a grunt of complaint from her.

    Smiling at her, he rose again from under his knees and pulled her pants completely down. Seconds later, she was only in her underwear in front of him. His cock throbbed at the sight.

    "Fuck, love...", he muttered, running his hands over her soft thighs and letting himself close to her again. The sparkle in (Y/N)'s eyes drove him crazy as their gazes met. “I bet you’re absolutely delicious”.

    Something stirred in (Y/N)'s belly and she didn't have much time to think, as he was already kissing her torso, kissing her lower and lower. The hot sensation between her legs grew fierce, begging to be touched there.

    Azriel placed a kiss below (Y/N)'s belly button and lowered himself further, trying to keep control of the trembling hands that were still roaming her body. He spread her legs, giving him more access and rubbed his nose through the fabric of the female's underwear.

    The scent of her lust caused a primal sound to come out of the back of his throat, beyond Azriel's control. The fabric was dark red and still he could see the moisture through it.

    He lowered his face even further, teasing (Y/N) and taking his time, enjoying every inch of her. Leaving light bites on her inner thighs, Azriel looked at her, checking to see if there was any kind of discomfort in the female he loved.

    What he saw made his dick throb in the leather trousers he wore. (Y/N) was struggling to keep her eyes open, completely intoxicated with the sensations he was making her feel. Pride shimmered inside him at the sight of that.

    Unable to wait any longer, Azriel lightly ran his fingers over the fabric of her underwear, going to the elastic band and pulling the material down. (Y/N) let out a moan as she suddenly felt the air in the area of ​​her body that she knew was completely wet. The male took a few seconds to look at her, so perfectly lying on his bed. Ready for him.

    He approached, spreading her legs a little more and breathed in that scent that he knew was completely addicted. Her lubricating liquid, living proof of how horny (Y/N) was feeling, glistened on her skin, making the scene even more beautiful in his eyes.

    In one long movement, unable to hold it any longer, Azriel ran his tongue up and down. From her entrance to her clit, causing her to make a sound that vibrated right into his cock.

    The Shadowsinger was mesmerized and speechless. The taste of her took over his mouth, citrus touches and at the same time, a sweetness he had never known, making him let out another growl. He would never take his mouth away, he thought.

    (Y/N) spread her legs to give him more access, as a silent request for him to feast on her. Azriel did what she was asking without batting an eye. His tongue took control and he devoted himself to savoring every inch of her.

    The sounds coming out of her would be embarrassing if she cared about that. (Y/N) sent the rest of the shyness to hell, giving herself to Azriel completely. He licked, kissed, sucked and even blew on the sensitive tissues of her pussy, eliciting sighs, moans and all sorts of noises possible from her.

    The sensation started to get unbearable for (Y/N), she felt the climax coming and with that, her hips started to get desperate, rubbing involuntarily against Azriel's face. He pinned her firmly to the bed and continued his work.

    His tongue penetrated her, the walls of her entrance twitching in response, causing a groan to come out of him and rumble through her. (Y/N)'s hands tangled in his hair and the moans became louder and louder.

    Realizing she was close, he intensified his movements, tasting her and dedicating himself to her clit. With a long moan of his name, (Y/N) came straight into his mouth, wetting even more with the lubrication.

    As she calmed down, still clinging to his hair, Azriel drank all the liquid that came out of her. He went up the kisses again, taking as long as he wanted on each part, determined to worship every inch of that beautiful body.

    With rosy cheeks and a little sweat, (Y/N) completely out of breath and looking wild was the best sight Azriel had ever seen. He smirked at her, proud to be responsible for that.

    To Shadowsinger's surprise, (Y/N) grabbed him by the neck and placed their mouths together in a messy kiss, desperate for more. Something boiled inside her as she tasted herself on his tongue, causing her to moan once more.

    His hand passed over her, pausing again between her legs, exploring her outer and inner lips, lingering on the clit area. She released his mouth to breathe, already feeling that burning inside her again.

    "Azriel, please...", her tone was almost desperate, with a hint of indignation, making him look at her. “You’ll have all the time you want to tease me later.”

    He chuckled softly, making her shiver. With his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes were dark and his handsome face made it seem like a dream. Azriel's index finger stopped at her entrance and made a circular motion around it.

    “I'm not teasing you, love”, another shudder took over (Y/N) as he heard the low tone of his voice. Azriel shifted just enough to lightly bite her ear before sliding his finger slowly inside her, earning a loud groan in response. “I just need to make sure I’ll fit inside of you…”

    After moving his single finger inside her a few times, Azriel added another. (Y/N)'s back arched and he almost came in his pants when he heard her moan in his ear. With shaking hands, as if she hadn't really thought about what she was doing, her hands reached for the zip of his pants and unzipped it.

    Placing a quick kiss on her mouth, Azriel got the message. She couldn't wait any longer and to be honest, neither could he. Hating having to get off (Y/N), the male jumped out of bed just to take off the last piece of clothing.

    The sight of (Y/N) completely naked and panting, looking at him with a hungry gaze, made Azriel's cock quiver. His hand rubbed the precum around the base of his cock as he knelt on the bed, smiling as he noticed her gaze following his movement.

    At that moment, (Y/N) understood why he was trying to enlarge her seconds before. She knew Azriel was big… she had felt it through his pants several times as they kissed and touched each other on several occasions in the last few weeks before he left for the mission, but seeing him… Her mouth went dry and the female didn't repress the urge to run her tongue around her dry lips with so much desire.

    He positioned himself above her again, his arms outstretched supporting him on the mattress around her head. His completely hard and heavy cock rested in the lower region of her abdomen, making that closeness make her even hotter.

    The two looked at each other for a few moments and then kissed again. The smells of the two of them, the sensation of that moment and the feelings that shimmered through the connection took their breath away.

    The kiss became urgent and Azriel lowered one hand, wrapping it around his cock and making the tip pass all over her pussy. (Y/N) moaned into his mouth, opening her legs even wider and trapping them on his hips.

    When she hooked her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, Azriel positioned himself at (Y/N's) hot and wet entrance. The female shifted her hips, impatient with his delay, causing him to smile against her.

    (Y/N)'s body tensed from the discomfort she felt when he penetrated the tip of his penis. Azriel's kisses were distracting enough that it didn't feel too bad.

(Y/N) had felt that feeling when she was losing her virginity during her teens and realizing it made her realize just how big and thick he really was. That thought brought the burning through her body again, making her want more of him.

    Azriel refused to move for a few minutes, even as she tried to move her hips into his, showing that she was ready for more. He took out the small part of his cock that was inside her and penetrated again, adding millimeters more with each thrust.

    The way he was being careful warmed her heart and made her even wetter. No one had taken care of her the way Azriel had. (Y/N) ran his tongue along his jaw to Azriel's neck, causing him to squeeze the hand that held her by the waist.

    When he had half of his cock in and she was almost used to it, (Y/N) lifted her hips quickly, signaling to him that she was ready. Azriel laughed at her impatience.

    Slowly, almost excruciatingly, he entered her completely. His cock throbbed inside her and he went completely still, trying to maintain control. Azriel's face was completely pressed against her neck and he held her hip firmly, immobilizing (Y/N) so that she wouldn't move.

    It would only take one roll of her against him to make him come, as if Azriel were a puppy losing its virginity. Gradually, when he felt the control come back to him, he looked up and found (Y/N) looking at him.

    Her expression wasn't one of pain. She was biting her lower lip, as if that alone was stopping her from moving her hip. He knew she understood his lack of movement.

    Taking her by surprise, Azriel shifted his hips. The moan that left her lips felt like a sound coming straight from the gods, made especially for him. The male could feel her getting even more lubricated as he thrust again and again into her.

    The inner walls of (Y/N)’s pussy hugged Azriel's cock perfectly, making the hot sensation spread through him completely. It was so tight he had to bite her shoulder to keep it from spilling inside her completely. Not yet, he thought...

    Her moans increased with their rhythm. (Y/N)'s hips meeting him, as his fingers gripped them so tightly that he was sure to have fingerprints there when they were done. Azriel felt himself vibrating, as if every cell in his body responded to his mate.

    He let out low groans in her neck. (Y/N)'s hands clinging to every part of his body, her nails scratching the skin of his shoulder as she moaned his name.

    (Y/N) clasped her hands in Azriel's hair and pulled his face in front of hers. Their kiss was wild, full of biting and licking, as if none of it was enough.

    “Az… Say it.”

Azriel knew what she wanted to hear, what they had waited so long to tell each other. Waiting for that moment.

    "You're mine."

    The bond trembled harder and they both groaned as they felt the emotions the two of them were sending each other through the connection. Her inner walls shook around his cock, a sign that she was close…

    “I'm yours,” his lips never left hers as he spoke. His thrusts completely messed up, their hips meeting in a desperate way. "I'm only yours...forever".

    The bond's glow exploded within them, keeping it completely solid and strong. The feeling of it was too much… Their movements became even faster, their frantic hands passing through their bodies, trying to grab and bring closer and closer and closer…

    "I'm yours, Azriel".

    How she had found the breath to moan those words was a miracle. However, as soon as they left her mouth, climax came for both of them. (Y/N) met Azriel's hip midway. His hands gripped each of her buttocks, squeezing tightly as he drove deep inside her.

(Y/N) felt his liquid pouring into her, while her head was in the clouds in the midst of her own orgasm. The sensation made everything even more intense and the two remained in motion for a while.

    Gradually, needing air in their lungs, they calmed down. The beats of the two hearts were in the same rhythm and they could hear them clearly, strong in their chests. So fast that it would be scary if they weren’t doing that… 

    Not daring to leave her, Azriel kissed (Y/N)'s neck and heard her purr at his gesture. The two trembled when they looked at each other, their eyes shining with happiness, love and oddly enough, even more desire. They kissed, sweetly and affectionately, enjoying the moment.

    “I hope you know we’re not leaving this bed for a while”.

She chuckled as she heard him, glad he had the same idea as her. Azriel felt his cock fully ready again, still inside her, as he felt her satisfaction at his statement.

    “I'm glad we agree.”

    Azriel just snarled in response, moving his hips against hers again. His cock filling her, while a hoarse moan left (Y/N)’s lips.

    Well, he thought, they were both ready for round two then.

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

I’m writing a longer fic about Ascended Astarion and an evil Durge, and this flash of a scene came to me for their redemption and spawn counterparts. The corresponding moment in the other fic is all angst, so I let the muse go when it wandered the other way and this fell out.

Durge and Astarion are cuddling in the Elfsong post-game, chatting about garlic and redemption. There’s some dissociation but they’re helping each other. That’s it. A moment of grace.

———

“Rise and shine, love.”

The last light of dusk glowed beyond the heavy curtains at the window. It was nearly time for Astarion to rise, and Killian was already at his side, ready to entice him back to the world of the living. When Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, Killian straddled him.

“Fancy a little breakfast?” he asked, a wistful sort of grin on his lips as he threw his head back, preening, exposing his neck. “I promise I haven’t eaten any garlic. Or shallots. No alliums at all, to be safe. A terribly flavourless diet. But worth it, for you.”

Astarion’s smile was also lazy, hands rested at Kill’s hips. The weight might have felt oppressive, but his solidness and body heat instead felt… more than warm. Comforting. Like when he was caught beneath him, he would always be safe.

“I don’t have to feed from you every night, you know,” Astarion said, thoughtful. It wasn’t an unfamiliar or unpleasant way to be woken up, but recently it had been accompanied by a bothersome pang in the back of his mind. “You can take a break. Have a meal you’ll really enjoy for once.”

He didn’t think it was guilt, really— Killian offered his blood up freely, had changed his diet of his own volition to better suit Astarion’s needs. It was… perplexing. Confounding. Exhilarating. It was the feeling of being taken care of, and after centuries of nothing but suffering, it was a feeling he had for a long time clung to selfishly. But now… now, he found himself wishing for more. To be able to take care of Killian, too.

Kill shifted, not the delicious roll of his hips Astarion might have expected, but something more demure. His eyes flicked away, focusing on something just beyond Astarion. “I probably wouldn’t eat them anyway. Shouldn’t. I shouldn’t really eat anything more than I need to survive, with food so scarce still, I don’t deserve…”

Astarion ran his hands up Killian’s sides, took grip just below his shoulders and pulled him a fraction closer, so he would put his attention back on him. Their eyes met, Astarion’s gaze fierce. “You deserve pleasure, my love. You deserve to enjoy your life. How can you keep punishing yourself? You saved the city, the world— what more can anyone ask of you, as far as redemption goes?”

Killian blinked, as if holding Astarion’s gaze was almost painful, then hung his head so he didn’t have to. “I saved the world from a threat I created. That’s not heroic, it’s— it’s worse than evil. Manipulative, for me to expect anything from anyone for something like that. Like if Cazador had demanded you thank him for deciding not to torture you—”

“He did do that. All the time,” Astarion said, teeth clenched. “Don’t you ever compare yourself to Cazador. You’re nothing alike.”

Killian was far away. He went somewhere else, sometimes, either when he was trying to remember who he had been, or when he was trying to forget. Astarion liked to think it was the same place he went sometimes, or if not the same place, at least a neighbouring one.

“I don’t know,” Killian whispered. “We have so much in common. Killed so many people, and expected glory and reward for it. Enjoyed it. Did he enjoy it, do you think?”

Astarion sucked in a deep breath and held onto it. Killian wasn’t really thinking, wasn’t really asking, he knew — wherever he was it was beyond them both. That was the point. But it still picked at Astarion and twinged with the pain of a fresh scab thoughtlessly disturbed.

“He didn’t lose any rest over it the way you have, I promise you,” Astarion said. The weight above him was starting to bear down, even though Killian had not moved a muscle. His fingers twitched with the impulse to push.

Killian drew back and rolled off of him, coming to rest at Astarion’s side. Astarion felt better instantly, the air cool around them, but his chest tightened. Killian was back now, this version of him always so attentive to his needs, and he hummed with anxiety beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Bad example.”

“Cazador never loved anyone but himself,” Astarion said. “He saved my life when he turned me, and demanded an eternity of torment as payment. You couldn’t be more different.”

Killian wondered at that, thinking of Vellioth’s rules— of a young Cazador, impaled for eleven years for the crime of having a friend. He wondered if Cazador had been capable of love once, before it had been stamped out of him. He wondered what punishments Bhaal had inflicted on him to mould him into his chosen. Perhaps there had been none. He was a piece of Bhaal’s own flesh after all. Maybe he had taken to it naturally.

His skin crawled, goose flesh prickling on his arms, and somehow he knew it wasn’t quite like that. He looked sidelong at Astarion, his heart aching as he recalled that night tied up and writhing in the shadow-cursed lands, and somehow he knew— knew that Bhaal must have been an even crueller master than Vellioth. More insidious, because he was also sure that eventually he had been eager to please.

Astarion propped himself up on one arm and reached out, a gentle brush of fingertips to Kill’s jaw. “You’re thinking about it. Stop. It doesn’t matter who you were before, or what you did. All that matters is now. And now, you are impossibly, frustratingly good. And I love you.”

“Not good,” Killian said, turning to look at Astarion, miserable. “Just trying.”

“Trying is even better,” Astarion said with the confidence of a student reciting a lesson recently learned. “You’re no Wyll or Karlach, bounding off to naively save orphans because you were born some kind of damn hero. You know more about what they’re up against— how seductive it all can be— than they ever could. And you choose to help anyway. That has to count for something.”

Kill smiled thinly. He wasn’t so convinced that guilt was a worthy motivator for good deeds, but perhaps it was something he could learn to believe for Astarion’s sake too. He reached up to take hold of Astarion’s hand and leaned into the touch. “I love you, too.”

“Good,” Astarion said. “Now, I think they’ve just started dinner service downstairs. Steamed mussels in butter and wine sauce. Toasted bread. Lots of garlic. Go. Enjoy yourself.”

Killian squeezed Astarion’s fingers then reached up to cup his neck and pull him into a kiss. Chaste, but firm, a simple and sweet gesture that left Astarion’s lips tingling when Killian pulled away.

“Thank you.”

Astarion smirked. “You’re welcome. You deserve it. Just… remember to brush your teeth after. I might want to do that a bit more when you’re done.”

[munsonsreputation]

congrats on 500! can I get 🧣? I’m feeling eddie and sweet nothing 🥹

hi jillian!!!! i think sweet nothing is one of the most underrated songs on midnights!!! i think it's so sweet and sappy and just a bunch of love!!! i absolutely loved writing this (eddie is such a soft boi) and i hope i did it justice!!! if you want to check out the sweet nothing fic i did for steve then you can find it here &lt;3

again, thank you so much for you request and your support...it means the world to me!!!! 💘💫🧸

Love.

A simply complicated four letter word.

Something that holds so much weight with its spoken message.

Eddie Munson always thought he wasn’t destined for love, at least romantically. He was always flawed in some way or the other, or at least that was just how it seemed.

In hindsight, he always thought it was some sort of blessing that he didn’t have any romantic partners. He didn’t have to worry about lavish dates. Impressing someone’s parents. Worry about someone else’s safety other than his own. Buying expensive gifts for stupid anniversaries. Get mad at someone for stealing all the blankets.

All of those ridiculous things that people had to put up with—something that he couldn’t imagine himself going through, but that was until he met you.

Weirdly enough, the second he met you, it felt like all of the stars in the universe aligned in some magical and creepy way. He knew that there was no one in the world that he wanted to do all that relationship shit with except with you.

And so now, even three years later, it still seems so surreal to him to walk up the front porch steps of your shared apartment, unlocking it and seeing you dancing in the middle of the kitchen as he watched in the doorway.

You were always dressed in the comfiest clothing—his to be exact. An oversized and faded Metallica tee paired with his boxers that you rolled up to fit snug over your hips. Your hair was either always clipped back or pulled into a messy bun and most times you wouldn’t even hear him come through the door because the music was so loud.

Every day at seven-thirty p.m. this would be his scene back at home. His favorite of all time. The one he would never get tired of coming home to. Even when he was covered in grease and sweat after a long day of work, all of that exhaustion just seemed to seep out of him the moment he saw you.

He smiled, chucking to himself as he watched you bring the end of the wooden spoon closer to your lips, belting out the lyrics to the Madonna song that ringing out through his record player in the center of the living room.

“Hey popstar!” He whistled, locking the front door as he undid the laces of his work-boots.

You jumped, startled at first, something you always did no matter if you knew it was Eddie, “You could at least knock, Eds!” you joked, putting down the spoon onto a plate and turning down the heat of the stove before skipping over to him.

“It’s our place baby, I’m sure I don’t need to knock.” He laughed, making you roll your eyes as you embraced him the moment he got his shoes off and placed them on the little rack near the front door.

He groaned, pushing his brows together while he wiggled in your hold. “m’all sweaty and dirty, babe.”

You shrugged, refusing to let go as held him tighter, “I don’t care. I missed you all day.”

He missed you more.

Not waiting another second, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close as he could feel the warmth of your bodies tangling together after a long day apart. “I missed you too.”

“Not so bad, right?” You couldn’t help but smile up at him with your doey eyes, getting your way once again, but Eddie loved it like that.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, nodding his head before lowering his head to meet your lips with a soft kiss, “The best. But now you’re gonna be all greasy.”

He scrunched his face, looking down to see the deep oil stains in his overalls, hoping they didn’t get onto you.

“S’ok, we can just shower after dinner.” You ran your fingers over his sides, up and down in comforting motions.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one always running up the water bill with your long ass showers,” he quipped.

You snorted, swatting him playfully on the arm. “How about tonight we kill two birds with one stone and shower together,” you suggested, grinning mischievously, “Save some money and the planet.”

His eyes widened only for a second before a sly grin came over his features. “I might need to hug you after work every day if this is gonna keep happening.”

You both laughed before Eddie leaned in to give you another kiss. You melted into him, feeling grateful that this is the man that came home to you every day.

“Come on chef, I think our dinner might be burning.” He wrapped his arms around your body, trapping you in his cages, while walked the both of you into the kitchen.

Thankfully, it wasn’t burning, just coming to a little simmer with a bit too much steam. He rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as you stirred the pasta and the sauce together.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you dance while cooking.” Eddie announced, a playful grin on his face that you could feel in his voice.

“Oh, stop it,” you replied, but the smile on your face betrayed your attempt at seriousness.

You cut the heat, removing the pan from the burner and placing it off the side while you reached up slightly to grab two plates for you and Eddie.

He kept his arms around you, only loosening them enough to let you move freely as you plated the meal. “I mean it,” he mumbled. “I love watching you move. It’s like everything just falls into place when you’re in the kitchen.”

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling sappy and loved. “You know,” you said, “I never thought I’d find someone who appreciates my cooking and my dancing in the kitchen.”

Eddie chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Well, you found him,” he said. “And you’re also a killer singer… you should ask Madonna to take you with her on tour!”

You laughed, placing down the plates, as you finally turned around and faced him once more, “I think I’ll stick to staying here with you.”

“Well, I feel lucky to be your only audience then,” he said, smiling at you, sharing the third of many kisses tonight.

Eddie took the plates from you and set them on the table, while you quickly turned down the music so that you and Eddie could talk about each of your days over dinner.

“So, how was work today?” you asked, taking a bite of your food.

Eddie sighed, pushing his food around with his fork, “It was a long day, bunch of bullshit at work that’s throwing the whole team off.”

“What kinds of bullshit?”

He grunted, finally telling you all the details about the stupidity going on at the goddamn auto-shop of all places.

“One of the guys are hogging customers and it’s throwing all of us under the bus. We had a meeting today, so I’m crossing my fingers that whatever bullshit he’s pulling is done and we can all just focus on getting our money.”

You were great at listening to him. Hearing him out and trying to access the situation and give him the best advice you could. A trait that Eddie was more than grateful for, someone who not only validated his feelings but wanted to find ways to make him feel better.

When everyone on the outside was up to some crap, he knew he could come to you, the person who was his home and find the comfort that he needed. That everything was going to be ok as long as you were around.

You reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry that’s happening, baby,” you said sincerely. “But I’m sure everything will get figured out and if not, then your boss should fire him. You and the rest of the workers deserve better than to put up with that crap.”

Eddie’s tense hand relaxed under your hold as you spoke. “Thanks for that sweets,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “You’re my rock, y’know that?”

Your heart swelled with joy and pride because he was all you ever wanted. You didn’t care about what people thought about him and the way he was viewed by everyone else. The only thing that mattered to you was that he had a good heart and an even kinder one when it came to you.

“You’re my rock too.” You whispered, patting the top of his hands before he turned yours over and intertwined your fingers together.

It was moments like these that made the two of you appreciate each other a little more. To know that you two had each other no matter. That sure, even if the outside world was filled with the cruelest and harshest of circumstances and people, that you two would always be able to fall back into each other.

“I love you.” He smiled, watching as you got out of your chair and walked over to him.

His arms already held out as you sat in his lap and cuddled into his embrace, “I love you more.”

This was everything.

Your silly banter.

Your teasing smiles.

Your warm hugs.

Your soft kisses.

You and him.

All the sweet nothings that life could offer the two of you.

This was true love.

I hope you liked this jillian!!! from one swiftie to another, I LOVE YOU!!!

reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

(comment if you would like to be added!) taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @fckthtgetmoney @loving-and-dreaming

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 12 )

SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Five's physically aged up). Obvious smut warning but there's plot too, I swear!

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

FINAL chapter: As the days draw on, Five becomes more desperate. Even his powers can't save you from a long, protracted death.

No smut below but proceed at your own risk anyway...because I said so, ok?!

You drift. Consciousness is misty and fleeting. You don’t know where you are, you only know pain. Your head throbs like an infected tooth. It hurts to breathe.

You don’t mean to open your eyes, yet three figures come into sort-of focus. The seated man wears black, the indistinct shape of his face turned to you.

“Hey,” it’s Five’s voice, gentle.

One of the other figures, huge and hulking, puts a misty hand on Five’s shoulder.

“Is she-?”

The scene changes.

"We've been friends since middle school! You've known her for all of ten minutes!"

Ellie. Her hand on yours.

"And is that going to save her if she takes a turn?"

"What?"

"Five..." says an admonitory voice. One of his siblings.

"If she takes a turn, can you turn back time and save her?"

You can hear rain on a window.

Your hand is held by someone below the level of the bed. His thumb caresses your pinkie finger. It’s silent but for his quiet baritone.

“I can't stop wanting you…it's useless to say...”

You sink again.

Daytime or night time. Maybe neither. Maybe dreaming

“Well, are they keeping it under control?”

“Fuckers won’t let me get at her charts” he exhales angrily, “and all the time she's in pain .”

“Hey, Five- it’s ok”

“I hate this Viktor, I can’t-”

Day time? Bustle: Beeps, footsteps, ringing phones. Hot pain in your abdomen.

“-Modafinil is ideal. Maybe Adderall. Hell, find me cocaine- any stimulant.”

“Buddy, I’m not sure…”

“Coffee is fine for now but it won’t be enough.”

You sense Five perching beside you. You open your eyes a slit. Klaus sits in a chair with his feet up on your bed, rolling a cigarette.

“Hey you,” he smiles.

As Five calls your name, disbelieving, the world heaves away again.

Now quiet again. His warmth against you. He whisper-sings more Ray Charles, his mouth against your ear. It's low tempo, his voice frayed.

"I said I made up my mind, to live in memories..."

“-brought you some more clothes.”

“Thanks.”

“You need a shower, you smell like shit.”

“…No.”

His voice drags like a sack of rocks along a stone floor.

“You need to stop this and sleep .”

“I’ll be fine.” 

He doesn't sound fine.

“Five-”

“I can only jump back a couple of minutes Diego.”

“How much are you taking?”

“It’s temporary.”

Quiet.

Five mutters and laughs to himself.

"I can't stop..."  

Barely singing now. Voice slurry, 

"Those h-happy hours...hours...happy hours...we once knew..."

Hot, moist breath on your cheek.

Beeps again.

“-on the mend. Come on man, you know it won’t be long now.”

“No. It’s nothing like a halo.”

“Huh?"

Five doesn't elaborate.

"Look, if I stay and promise to stay awake, will you sleep? I can wake you if she takes a turn.”

He doesn’t respond; silence is more sinister than nonsense. You feel weight shift on your bed. 

“Five?”

“We’ll sort it right here and be happy. And you can be satisfied with that.”

“Five…" Klaus's usually carefree voice is laced with worry. "You’re talking to the chair buddy."

“I forgot to carry the one and that’s what people see, but it’s not the same,” he laughs deliriously, blurrily. 

“Okay old timer. Just put your head down here and-”

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the gloom. Breathing’s easier now but you still wheeze. You can hear slow, deep breathing to your right. With effort, you turn your head.

“Five?” your voice barely sounds. It catches and squalls in your throat.

“Shhh,” a large hand on yours and a low, urgent whisper, “glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Luther’s face materializes out of the dark.

“Five?” you repeat.

"He’s here, right here. But please, let him sleep for now. He’s not been well.”

Sat on a chair beside Luther, Five is slumped forwards, his head a few inches from your shoulder. His face is gaunt and unshaven, hair dirty. Even in repose, he looks worried, yet he sleeps like the dead.

“How long?” you manage.

“Since you’ve been here? Eight days. You’ve got broken ribs, a punctured lung and some head trauma. But you’ve had an infection too and that’s what had us really worried.”

“Better now?”

“Yeah. They say the antibiotics are working now. It’s a good sign you’re awake enough to talk.”

You indicate Five, “Why?”

“He was awake for over four days. Since your infection got bad,” he pauses, “it wasn’t pretty. Klaus finally got him to sleep this morning and he’s been like this since. We didn’t want to move him.”

“Be ok?”

“Yeah. It gave him a touch of psychosis but it should have gone when he wakes up.”

Your eyes are heavy, “Tired.”

“I’ll be here." says Luther.

As your eyes close, he wakes you again.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“Huh?”

“When you wake up and he’s awake, will you pretend it’s the first time?”

“Ok.”

It’s easy to fall back under the veil of exhaustion and pain. You let the sound of Five’s deep breathing lull you.

When your eyes open again, the light tells you it’s afternoon. Luther sits in the same position by your bed while Five sits with his head back against the window pane. He’s leaning so that two of his chair legs are off the floor. He looks up at the ceiling, scrutinizing it as if the pattern on the tiles might hold the answer to life, the universe and everything: as if they're the mad calculations on his bedroom walls.

“Five?”

He jumps violently, his chair tipping back onto all four legs. His shocked face breaks into disbelief, into joy and then, like the sun going in, his face crumples.

“Oh God.” he blinks to the side of the bed, unable to waste even the seconds it would take to walk. He rematerializes wiping his eyes. Quietly, Luther excuses himself, giving you privacy, the door clicks closed.

Five kisses, first your head, then your face, then each of your eyes and finally buries his face in your hair.

“You're awake! Oh God. I love you. I can’t, I'm sorry- it was my-”

He mouths silently for a couple of seconds, words not coming. You lift a heavy arm, placing it on his back and guiding him onto the bed.

Carefully, he lies beside you, as close to the edge of the bed as he can without falling off. He nuzzles into your cheek, hiding his face. After a few minutes pretending he's not crying, his tears subside enough to trust himself to speak.

“I didn’t leave you.”

“I know.”

“It’s all my fault. I didn’t think, I didn’t plan well enough. He was after me and I led him straight to you. I’m an idiot, a fucking idiot.” 

Suddenly, violently, he slams the heel of his hand into his cheekbone.

“Five, stop," you reach feebly for his wrist but your arm feels too heavy, "you didn’t ask for this to happen.”

“I put you at risk, I hurt you again.”

“You can’t control everything. You can’t live the rest of your life imagining every contingency. You can never be happy like that.”

He pushes his balled fist hard into one eye, as if he could push his tears back into the ducts.

“This time, I’m done with it. No more Commission, no more saving the world, no more anything.”

Somehow, you know this is a promise to himself that he can’t fully keep. It's who he is.

As night falls, Five settles on the low cot next to your bed. You reach your hand down towards his and he takes it willingly. 

“Promise me you’ll sleep tonight?”

“I think I can promise you that.”

“Why didn’t you before?”

He pauses, uncomfortably.

“In case you needed me.”

For a little while, you just hold hands.

“Five?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.” 

Over the next week, you’re visited by the entire Academy crowd. Five stays protectively by your shoulder throughout these visits, though you’re not sure why precisely. It’s as if he thinks they’ll wear you out. The hypocrisy of this is stark: if anybody’s worn out, it’s him. 

Despite his promise, In your first few days of consciousness, he slept in only tiny snatches, always waking with a start and a frantic glance in your direction. Though he’s relaxed about this since you’ve been able to leave the bed for a couple of hours each day, you know he still isn’t sleeping well.

A few days after Christmas, Lila brings Santi to visit. On arriving, she took one look at Five and grimaced but made no other comment. 

Santi is still nervous of you: only having briefly met you once before you were bedridden, injured and delicate. Though most of your bruises and facial swelling have gone down, there’s still enough evidence of them to make you appear slightly scary to a six year old.

For most of the visit, he hides behind Lila, but you smile at him when you catch him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking. 

“So, Santi, what did you get for Christmas?” 

He mumbles into the back of Lila’s chair. 

“What was that, honey?”

“Lego,” supplied Lila, “an absolute buttload of lego.”

“Cool!” you say, enthusiastically, “so what are you gonna build?”

Santi eyes you before beckoning his mother. Lila, rolling her eyes, bends so that he can whisper in her ear.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she says, “I’m not your messenger, darling.”

Reluctantly, giving the bed a wide berth, Santi edges around the room until he’s beside Five. 

“When are you coming home?” he says, in a small voice.

“Soon, I hope,” says Five, glancing over at you, “the doctors think it’ll be around New Year.”

“When’s that?” Santi asks.

“A few days,” Five reassures him. There’s a short pause as Santi computes this: first taking it in and then finding it acceptable.

“Will you play with robots good?”

“Huh? Sure, we’ll play robots.”

“But will you play them good? Or will you still be all dumb?”

Lila snorts.

“Gee, thanks kid. I guess I’ll try not to be dumb, but what makes you think that?”

“Because…because…” he beckons Five in the same way he did Lila and Five lowers his ear. You don’t hear exactly what he whispers, but the words: ‘kissing’ and ‘girlfriend’ are clearly audible. 

Lila catches your eye, tries to suppress a laugh, but cackles. You can’t help joining in.

Amused, Five answers.

“Well, while I intend to be very busy kissing my girlfriend-” 

Santi flaps his hands, trying to stop Five from divulging this top secret communication.

“-I promise I’ll play robots better than ever when I get home."

Five tends to skulk outside in the hallway when Ellie visits. Clearly, they’ve had disagreements.Today is no different: he greets Ellie politely, holding the door open for her, but nevertheless excuses himself quickly.

After he leaves, it takes a few minutes for conversation between you and Ellie to flow properly. 

“So, what do you think of him now?”

Ellie sucks at her cheek.

"He clearly cares a lot about you,” she pauses before finishing in a rush, “but when you were really ill he seemed…I don’t know, possessive?” 

"He was just worried,” you sigh, “He thought it was his fault."

"But why?"

You don’t want to lie to her but you want her to like him too.

"There are bad people after him. That guy. The one who…” 

She nods her understanding, waving away any need for elaboration and allowing you to avoid talking about Micheal Monroe any more.

“They're all...superheroes, I guess, and I got caught up in it. He feels responsible."

She pulls a concerned face, "I guess I understand that. He's just very…intense."

You squeeze her hand.

"He is. But he's been through a lot, more than you or I could imagine. He's got his own shit to work out. But he's worth it.”

You pause, looking up from your clasped hands and into her eyes.

“I love him, Els."

She smiles and squeezes your hand in return, the worry not quite leaving her eyes.

The physical therapists having apparently decided they’d tortured you enough, it was decided that you should be transferred to outpatient care on New Year’s day. By this time, you were able to move around unaided (though not without pain) and the dressings had been removed from your head. Five could sense your nerves.

“Do you want me to move in for a while?” 

“No," your eyes prickle, "I don’t ever want to go back there.”

“Then you never have to." he soothed, placing one hand on your cheek and kissing your trembling upper lip, "I can keep sleeping on the floor at home until we can work out your next steps.”

You wondered afterwards why you didn't stay with Ellie again until you got back on your feet. The truth was, the idea of sleeping every night with him nearby and protecting you was comforting in a way you wouldn't have been able to articulate. His attic was the only place you could imagine recovery. 

You don't need his help to climb the Academy steps, but he doesn't feel comfortable without taking your arm. He leads you through the entrance hall and into the living room, where Lila stands behind the bar.

“I think this calls for margaritas!”

With some misgivings about leaving you in such dubious company, Five nevertheless blinks upstairs to drop off your bags in his room. 

To his surprise, the room is already full.

The unexpected entrance causes Luther to hit his head on the sloping ceiling, dropping the new bed he was maneuvering into position. Cursing softly, he puts out a hand to still the swinging lampshade. Diego stops in the act of moving the battered old slipper chair.

“Shit, you’re early!”

The room smells of fresh paint, Sloane is unfolding bedsheets while Klaus and Viktor slide Five’s desk back against a newly-dried blue-black trimmed wall. They’ve added a rug and another bookcase, already half full of books that had before been leaning in a precarious stack. Five looks around, placing the bags on the floor.

“You need room for two,” Diego says, in answer to Five’s dumbstruck look, placing the chair in his new reading nook. “Plus you’re overdue to redecorate.”

Santi stands on the desk chair, dragged to the opposite wall. He’s drawing on the upper portion of the wall with a marker; a lumpy, smiling figure with wiggly lines all around him.

“It’s all dry erase,” says Luther. "Just in case. For doomsday math.”

“We moved the old toys to one of the empty rooms.” says Viktor, “Figured Santi needs a playroom and you need your space.”

“Yeah…” says Five, “you guys-”

Klaus cuts him off, “And your other toys are in the bedside cabinet. I’ve seen things I can’t unsee.”

Five, torn between mortification and a strong emotion he can’t quite place, says nothing for the moment. He stares around. All their work. All their care. 

And there, on the new bookshelf, Anna Karenina. It’s like Dolores is there, giving him a little wave.

“Thank you. I'm truly touched.” 

It’s not much, but his face speaks volumes. He’s home: safe and loved.

“You deserve it, old man” Diego thumps him on the shoulder.

Trying to throw off some of the emotional intensity, Five turns his attention to his nephew.

“Is that me Santi?" he takes in the squiggly lines around the figure, "Why do I smell?”

“Not smell. You’re blinking ”

“Oh, sure.”

“You do smell though. Smell of poop.”

Five picks him up, swings him round and kisses his head. Then, turning to the rest of his family. “Really. This is…amazing.”

“Come on, bring it in! I need a full group hug.” Klaus sweeps everyone together. It’s awkward, but nice. 

As they break apart and head downstairs together, Santi scampering ahead with Diego, Klaus steers Five to the back of the group.

“That playboy has gotta be an antique...and where did you get that teeny pink buttplug?”

“Klaus, really?”

“And, I have to know, do you wear that pair of panties or is it a, you know, a sniffin’ thang?"

Five blinks downstairs.

“So it’s both?” Klaus shouts over the banister.

Everyone except you has had at least three of Lila’s deadly margaritas. After one, you become nervous about mixing them with your pain meds.

The evening has devolved into karaoke, a sure sign that things are getting messy. Five, in particularly high spirits and particularly drunk, is singing the worst tribute to Celine Dion you’ve ever heard. He's trying to sing much higher than he is at all capable of. Lila and Viktor sit either side of you, all three of you cringing at every horribly-off key note.

Luther, Sloane and Klaus sway together, laughing and wincing as Five misses notes screechily. Diego hadn't descended the stairs after putting Santi to bed, having already had far too many drinks.

“CAUSE I AM YOUR LADY-”

“Y’know, says Viktor, “I don't think I've seen him this happy since we were kids.”

“-AND YOU ARE MY MAAAAN-”

“God, maybe it would have been easier on us all if you had died!” Lila covers her ears with two throw pillows.

Viktor smiles in your direction, “I’ve noticed he likes to sing worse the happier he’s feeling.” 

You laugh, “I hope so.”

“WHENEVER YOU REACH FOR ME-”

Viktor continues, “He’s never known how to love halfway. He dedicated his entire life to getting back to us. Never stopped, never gave up-”

“-I’LL DO ALL THAT I CAAAAN”

“-and now he loves you like that, he’ll never stop that either.”

You take Viktor’s hand and listen to Five finish.

“-SOMETIMES I AM FRIGHTENED BUT I’M READY TO LEARN THE POWER OF LOOOOOOOOVE”

With the end of the song still playing, Five throws down the microphone with a squall of feedback and bows, leaving all three of you on the sofa grimacing intensely. Only Lila claps. 

Luther takes up the mic as Five walks over to you, leading from the head with hands in his jacket pockets; his characteristic pose.

“I was amazing, wasn’t I?”

“I think I prefer your Ray Charles.”

His face lights up.

"You remember that?"

As you nod, his drunken smile turns sentimental. He holds out a hand to you.

“Dance with me?”

You squeeze his hand and he pulls you carefully to your feet and towards the edge of the room.

As Luther begins to murder I Wanna Know What Love Is , Five pulls you close. You revolve on the spot and he lays his forehead against yours. His face, though happy, is careworn. For the first two verses, you just dance. Five is surprisingly graceful for someone with this much tequila in him.

“You know,” you whisper,  “you won’t always be able to keep me safe.”

“I can try,” and then, “I’m a dangerous man to know.”

“And if that’s part of being in your life, then that’s the price I pay. It’s a good trade-off from where I’m standing.”

As the chorus swells and the others sing along with Luther, Five raises his hands to cup your face,

“I can teach you to defend yourself. I could start training you as soon as you’re fully better.”

You laugh, “That sounds like it would be a huge turn-on for you."

“It's a coincidence of which I intend to take full advantage.”

“Then we’re on.”

With the others occupied, he leans you against a pillar and gives you a lingering kiss, tenderness giving way to lust the longer he goes. You break away from him,

“Take me to bed, Five."

And he does.

End of Part 1

Tag list: (lmk if you want to join) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

PART 2 >> HERE

For a preview of things to come, check out the series masterpost Alternatively, join me on A03 where it's already posted.  Here is a link to the whole series

I would really appreciate any comments before you go: what did you enjoy, what could I have done better?