#i'm kind of scared i admit. to do it without a beta

[littlehaize]

can't believe i'm actually writing a long fic

haven't done that in years

i have no plan, i barely have ideas and clichés

i go with the vibe and feeling

dbh fandom, be scared, i'm arriving

[whackk-kermitt]

Kisses & Bitmarks

Warning: Derek is secretly a softy, obliviously in love, mutual pinning, confessions, Stiles being a horny bitch (only a little), Scott being a dummy, Derek is still an Alpha, everyone is alive Summary: In a series of unfortunate events, Stiles finds himself with the bite of the wolf. After the shift, he needs an Alpha to coach his control. Scott is NO help AT ALL. NOT PROOFREAD

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪ "Derek, I can help."

"No, stay here."

"Derek-" Stiles grumbles as the alpha turns to scowl at him. "Scott, will you tell him I can help?"

Scott squirms where he stands just a few feet away, "I think you should stay here, dude."

"Dude," Stiles gasps hands coming up in his exasperation to slap down on his sides. "Who's side are you on?"

"A feral alpha, who has already killed and eaten four hikers, is not something that involves defenses humans."

"First, ouch. How dare you, I'm not defenseless when all of you are there. Second, I'm the one who tracked his guy down and I want to help."

"First," Derek bites back getting in his face, frustration and annoyance coming off him in waves, making his betas cower a bit. "You are defenseless which is why me, Scott, or someone else is always with you to make sure you get out alive. If you're there, their focus isn't on the extremely dangerous alpha. Second, you've already helped, so shut up, sit in your jeep, and let us kill the damn thing without you being underfoot." Derek growled through fitted teeth.

To anyone who just met Derek, they'd be pissing their pants if they were in his shoes. Derek being angry for receiving lip and getting in his face, primal growls and glowing fire in his eyes. Hell, if this was a few years ago, Stiles would be pissing himself right now.

But this is Derek, and Stiles knows Derek well enough to say that half of Derek's attitude and threats are out of love and worry. As strange as that sounds. And it is probably not any surprise, to the wolves at least, that Stiles isn't scared by his fangs and claws anymore.

His body still reacts to it, just not the way it used to.

It's hot, okay, don't judge him!

Stiles gave in, not in the mood anymore to argue, and grumbled like a pouting child. Not that he wouldn't argue the hell out of Derek, it's his favorite pastime. But he didn't wanna be around Derek when he was just intimated into arousal by him. Kind of embarrassing.

Stiles knew Derek knew, but Derek never said anything, thank god. He'd rather keep what little friendship with Derek he had than ruin it by things getting awkward. If Derek gave him the mercy of pretending he couldn't hear his heartbeat when he came into the room, or smell the on his flesh when Derek gave him the attention that excited him(sexually or otherwise). As long as Derek didn't totally hate him, he was okay.

Without another word, the wolves followed Derek and Scott into the woods to hunt this guy down.

Somehow by the magic of Stile's research skills and limited knowledge about the attacks, Stiles was able to track down the name of the alpha. He was the alpha of a modest pack residing in a town a few counties north of Beacon Hills. The pack mainly consisted of family and close friends, who Stiles found recent death certificates for. Meaning hunters likely track them down, and well. . . you know. Somewhere along the way, the alpha lost his mind, going feral.

Stiles moped in the jeep, feeling useless to the pack. He hated feeling like a damsel that needed to be protected. Derek was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. Everyone always ends up sticking by him to keep him safe when shit hits the fan, always underfoot when pressures are high. He knows it is unnecessary guilt, that he can't help being human, and the others have never really complained. At least not to his face about it.

He still feels like he could be doing more. There are benefits to him being human, pushing mountain ash, and taking care of wolvesbane obstacles the wolves can't. He just had this pit in his stomach that left him wanting to feel a part of something. He's kept around for his useful research and the benefit of his humanity, and Scott. Nothing else, and he knows it. But it’s nice to play pretend every once in a while.

His train of thought was derailed by a nasty howl echoing over the treetops. Stiles, before even thinking about it, stepped out of the jeep onto the pavement. His heart began to pound and he said a silent prayer that nobody was hurt. Although, even in his human ears, that howl didn't sound like any of the pack. They must have caught up to the alpha.

Stiles took a moment to realize that the sun had set completely, meaning he's been sitting here for at least an hour. A second howl sounded, and his head turned towards it. It sounded closer. Way closer.

The alpha was moving, and fast. Probably running away from the pack. Stiles stomach twisted at the fruition that it was coming his way. He climbed back into the jeep and thought about starting it up and moving out of the way of danger.

He struggled to fish his keys out of his pocket, panting in sudden adrenalin.

As the keys set in the transmission and turned, the jeep sputtered to life and a groan reached his ears. That didn't sound like the metallic grind and grown the old girl made when she started up, it sounded animalistic.

Terrified, stiles turned his head. He was frozen, when just outside the driver-side door was a beast that could put Peter’s alpha form to shame. Snarling and drooling at the sight of him.

Its sight is based on movement, no sudden movements.

No wait that's Jurassic Park, shit!

Before Stiles could even think, even hope for a rescue, the door was ripped away, tugging the whole jeep a few inches with it.

Claws and fangs dug into his flesh, pulling him in from the vehicle and onto the hard pavement below. The iron-tight jaw around his leg pulled back and was suddenly ripping into his abdomen.

Stiles let out a blood-curling scream, pushing away at the rabid wolf. He heard a distant howl and prayed they didn't find him in pieces.

His life flashed before his eyes; the face of his mother, father, Scott, Derek, Lydia. He cried out fearing what would happen to them when he was in the alpha's stomach.

Like hell, he was gonna be an easy meal. The bit down on the pain and scratched and punched with all this strength.

The alpha was fed up and lifted Stiles from the ground, shaking him dizzy and tossing him aside. Stiles rolled on the pavement. Landing on his stomach, his head turned to the jeep. He saw the beast standing in a pool of blood, a trail leading the the blood that began to pool under him. His vision began to cloud, and his senses were fading. He heard the alpha sniff and growl, then heavy footsteps coming closer. He couldn't move.

His eyes grew heavy and everything went dark and numb.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Stiles woke up he was in his bed. His mind was foggy from sleep. The only thing he knew was he had to pee. He stumbled out of bed, shuffling to the door and into the hall.

He had only half a mind to notice the voices of this father and Scott downstairs. Groggy and still so unaware of the events last night.

After relieving himself, he turned to wash his hands. He felt his heart jump at the sight of blood under his nails, looking at himself in the mirror it all came flooding bad to him.

The monster alpha, the teeth, the claws.

He lifted his shirt looking down to where his life was bleeding out of him at one point. His eyes found his own again and they glowed a bright gold. He panted and collapsed against the wall.

No, no no no, this can't be happening. He didn't want this.

"Stiles," He heard Scott's voice. He zeroed in on the sounds and smells in the house. The fan in his dad's room buzzing softly, the coffee on the kitchen table where he was sure his father and Scott had just been, the heartbeats standing at the bottom of the stairs, the soft creak in the third step as someone began coming up.

The next thing that assaulted his senses was the revolting smell of Scott.

"Stay away!" Stiles panicked as he felt claws pushing out at his fingertips, and fangs drop into place in his mouth. He felt a wave of uncertainty, displeasure, and fear. The footsteps on the stairs stopped and he sighed looking around in panic.

He felt the instinct to run, run where he didn't know. The animalistic instinct in him told him to run just as it told him to breathe. Something in Scott's scent made him feel unsettled and afraid.

"Stiles, we've been through this before, remember? You taught me to control it." He hears Scott sigh and even his soft nervous gulp. "Find your anchor, tie yourself to it."

Stiles nodded, knowing Scott or his father couldn't see it. He focused on his father, his scent, and his heartbeat. He smelled his aftershave and cologne, the coffee on his breath, the gunpowder and detergent on his hands. He listened to his erratic heart and how it beat quickly with worry and fear.

"Stiles," Scott tested softly, bearly a whisper that Stiles could hear as clear as day. "You need to calm down."

"Not helping!" Stiles snapped, voice slurred through the fangs he wasn't used to having. Something in him pushed a defensive growl from his throat. Realizing what he was doing only a second later he let out an apologetic whimper.

Stiles wondered why it was his body, his wolf, that hated Scott's scent so much, and why it made him feel so sick. Why Scott's comforting voice in his ears made him feel so volatile and angry. He needed to get away from it, it made him feel scared.

He remembered something Derek had said to the others about the instinct of a wolf always being in your best interest. Even if it is something you can't follow through with, acknowledge the instinct and consider it.

If his wolf needed to get away then he will. He stood quickly and dashed to his room, following the wolf's lead. He trusted it entirely.

"Stiles?" Scott cried coming up the stairs.

"Son?" The panic and confusion in his father's voice made him whime, but he couldn't control himself right now. His father's safety was always his top priority.

He let the wolf take him through the window, and jumped down into the side yard, b-linding the woods behind his house. He didn't know where he was going, but just needed to get away from Scott.

Fully shifted, he ran faster than he ever had before. Heart thumping and pounding in his ears. He smelled the woods, the dirt under his bare feet, the pine and oak, the musk of the animals that lingered, and the petricore like never before. He felt the wind on his face and smiled. If this is what he was missing out on this whole time maybe he should've asked for the bite sooner.

His feet slowed on their own, and he realized where he was. A few blocks from Derek's loft! He'd run that far that fast?

He picked his pace back up and ran like hell. If this is where his wolf wanted to be, this is where he would be.

Skipping a step at a time he made his way up, too much energy to sit around waiting for the elevator.

"What do you mean he's gone?" He hears Derek growl. There was a power in the growl that made his wolf purr. "You were supposed to talk to him, coach him through the shift!"

"Derek!" He called.

"He's here." He said, tone as though he didn't believe it. "No, stay there, if he's agitated, I'll deal with it. No one needs to get hurt.

Stiles flung open the door watching Derek strolling down the stairs and putting his phone away in his pocket. Derek slowly and cautiously approached, eyes concerned.

"I hated it." Stiles panted lightly. He felt a need for Derek to understand what was happening, to guide him on what to do.

"Hated what?"

"Scott," Stiles sighed stepping fully into the loft. "His scent, his voice telling me to calm down. It made me afraid and angry. The wolf just wanted to run away, and I tried to fight it and get control like Scott was telling me but it just made it worse. God, I wanted to rip his throat out with my teeth! Huh, I sound like you now. And I- I remembered you telling Erica and the guys about the wolf's instincts and how you should always trust it, so I jumped out of my window. Oh, god, wow, I jumped out a window! I didn't even think, I-nothing broke. Or maybe it healed? I don't know, but I started running, and I ended up here. Derek," He took a breath, eyes glossy. "What do I do?"

Derek just stared at him for a long moment.

"Derek?" Stiles's voice was soft now, his breathing slowing to normal.

Derek's heartbeat was fast, his eyes searched Stiles for a moment before he looked away with a thoughtful expression for a moment.

"I-" He huffed. "I thought Scott would be your alpha."

"He isn't?"

"Not if you wanted to rip his throat out when he asked you to calm down."

"Huh." Stiles nodded. "That makes sense."

Derek chuckled dryly.

"Wow," Stiles sighed taking a deep breath. "You smell good. You always smell this good? Is it the new nose?"

Derek sighed, face falling. Like Stiles had disappointed him somehow. His wolf whined in the back of his mind.

'Please the alpha.'

He gulped and frowned a little.

"Did I do something wrong? You can't get mad at me dude, I'm new to this."

"No, you just-" He cut himself off.

"Come on Derek, I'm kind of relying on you completely here." Stiles stepped closer and Derek stepped back. Stiles's eyes began to water and he didn't know why. He felt alone and pitiful all of a sudden.

Derek watched his reaction curiously.

"What are you feeling?" He asked hesitantly like he didn't really want to know the answer. "Your instincts, what do you want? What is your wolf telling you you need?" He clarified.

"I-" Stiles stubbled back and frowned, a tear running down his cheek. His wolf's howls in the back of his mind made him each with the feeling he just lost something. "To be close to you. But I feel cold, lonely, all of a sudden."

Derek blinked a couple times and tilted his head down, just slightly.

"I feel alone, I feel-" Stiles stopped, not knowing the words that could describe it.

"Stiles," He spoke gently like his voice could crack Stiles into a million pieces if he spoke loud enough. "Don't think about the works, just the feeling. The words will come to you, trust the wolf."

Stiles curled in on himself for a bit before letting his eyes fall to the floor. He stood still, focusing on the cold feeling in his chest. The wolf whined and whimpered like a dying animal in the face of a predator.

'Rejected. Omega.'

"Rejected and omega come to mind." His voice barely broke from his throat.

Derek's breath hitched in his throat, looking at Stiles with an indescribable intensity.

"Please the alpha."

"Stiles," Derek's voice was hoarse as he was willing it to say something it didn't want to. "You-" He stopped himself again.

"Derek, what do I do?" Stiles didn't understand why he started crying, he felt too senseless despite all the new strength in his body.

"I," Derek paused. "I don't want you to think this is anything more than an alpha and beta relationship. I think it's maybe best if you called Sc-"

"What?" Stiles looked up at him. He felt anger and confusion seep into him. "You want to reject me as your beta be-because I like you?"

Derek shuddered for a moment. "I didn't say that, I-"

"Said we're only alpha and beta, yeah I got that," Stiles growled. "I figured you never said anything 'cause you didn't want things to be awkward between us, I get it- I'm not the most appealing candidate, but this is so much fucking worse, Derek. This is fucking petty."

"Stiles." Derek warned.

"I don't know what I'm doing!"Stiles cried. "I'm scared, I need you to guide me-help me! I know you don't care the way I care, I'm fine with that," He ignored the blip in his heart. "I can be just your friend, I have been and it was fine, but I need you-"

"Stiles," Derek's eyes widened as he looked him over, drinking in the confession. "What is it you want from me?"

"Help!" Stiles snapped like it was obvious because he thought it was. "I-"

"No," Derek shook his head, daring a few steps forward. "Not what I meant. Forget the wolves, just you and me. What do you want with me?"

Stiles gulped, nervous and scared of more rejection.

"You." He shrugged, he was tired all of a sudden.

"Stiles," Derek pleased, a look in his eye that made him swoon. "Please, don't beat around the bush."

"I want-" He hesitated, afraid. "I want to be with you."

Derek, stepped closer, a look in his eye that made Stiles twitchy.

"I want to, sit and talk about stupid shit that doesn't matter. I want to argue over Batman versus Superman. I want to argue over what movie to watch. I want you to meet my dad- like actually. Not just talking to him about how to deal with the monster of the week. I want you to hold me as we fall asleep. I want you-"

Derek was kissing him.

His hands cupped his cheeks and drew him closer, breathing him in. Stiles melted into it, calming all his nerves in a single second.

His wolf purred as it took in the scent and feel of his alpha's body against his.

Stiles pawed and his chest and followed his lips and he pulled away.

Derek chuckled, low and happy watching him. Stiles opened his eyes and looked up into Dereks.

"Wh-"

"I thought it was just sexual." Derek frowns for a moment. "If I had known you wanted more I-" He sighed. "Still probably wouldn't have done anything."

"Why not?" Stiles grumbled in slight offense. Although part of him, knowing how Derek had been used in the past, made him feel guilty for it having seemed that way. Even though he thought everything was blatantly obvious and that was never his intention.

" You're seventeen, and your fathers the sheriff." He blinked plainly.

"Oh," Stiles chuckled awkwardly. "Right."

"I'm sorry," Derek wavered.

"So you'll be my alpha?"

"Yeah."

"And. . maybe my mate."

Derek gave him a pointed stare.

"What?" Stiles frowned. "Isn't that just wolfie talk for dating?"

"No," Derek laughed, honest to god laughed. Stile thought he would faint. "No, It's more like marriage- with a lot of sex."

"Well, in that case," Stiles smirked, earning an eye-roll. "All that's can wait a year."

Derek laughed again.

"Yeah, sure." He nodded. "We'll see how it goes."

Stiles broke into a wide grin, jumped up flinging his arms around Derek and breathing in his scent. Stiles took note of the woodsy smell, the lavender, dirt, leather, and rich cologne pressed into his flesh. He decided it was his new favorite, and the wolf agreed.

"You're never getting rid of me now!"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Derek held tighter.

Stiles smelled something sour all of a sudden, "What's wrong?"

"You're quick to pick up on things, aren't you." Derek hummed on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked more firmly as the scent became stronger.

"When I heard you scream, I thought- I found you," Derek paused to take a breath. Move his hand to his shoulder to feel his heart beating. "I thought we were too late."

"You could hear my heart beating though, right?"

"Didn't mean you'd make it through the night. You bled so much." Derek sniffled. "I thought it would be safer for you to stay behind and wait for us, but-"

"You couldn't have known."

"Doesn't matter." He mumbled, "I thought I lost you.

"Der,"

"Safe to say you're sticking with me from now on."

Stiles chuckled at that. He held tighter and literally purred. Which made Derek shudder closer humming in contentment.

"You're a tough son of a bitch though. Even as a human, you made it easy for us to kill the bastard."

"What?" Stiles pulled back to look him in the eye.

"How much do you remember?" Stiles shrugged trying to think, It was all kind of a blur to him now. "You scratched the hell out of his face. Eyes, ears. The only thing that wasn't fucked up by the time we got there was his nose."

"He didn't heal?"

"Didn't have time before I ripped his throat out." Stiles laughed, the irony of it all made his wolf preen for the man who lost his shit to protect him. "You had his eyeball in your hand when we got to you. Scratched it out."

"Holy shit!"

"If you weren't actively dying at the time I would've had time to feel proud," Derek smirked, and Stiles felt weak in the knees.

Derek chuckled pressing closer.

"So no sex obviously no sex for a while- taking things slow and all," He mused. "But, like, how about another smooch?"

Derek grins leaning in to oblige.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"You and Derek what?" Scott cried, eyes wide as if he honestly;y had no fucking clue.

"Finally." The rest of the room groaned in unison.

"I was gonna hit you if you didn't make a move soon." Lydia rolled her eyes at him.

Stiles just smiled, looking over at Derek who smiled back with a wink. ≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[heresathreebee]

Kurt Kunkle | Spree (2020) || Formal Wear // Strap-Ons

Halloween Party; 2k words; NO BETA/ SELF- EDITED, Swearing, Kurt Committed Crimes, Mentions of Medications and Side Effects, NSFW Streamer Reader, Costume Swap, Kissing, Oral (female receiving), Mommy Kink, Pet Names, Domme/Sub Dynamic, Pegging, Cock Ring, Cum Eating

Previous | Masterlist | Next: GOT Koner Body Worship

Influencer Parties always have the same outfits as Frat parties in movies– a dozen playboy bunnies, toga dudes, video game characters, half assed slashers, boring assholes in college-core or quoting movies ('I’m a homicidal maniac, they look just like everybody else'), and party city knock-offs. 

"What the hell are you supposed to be?," you ask from behind the rim of your solo cup. 

Kurt Kunkle brushes some glitter off of his dinner jacket and preens. "Bond. James Bond." 

You roll your eyes and hide a smile by taking a sip of the spiked punch. "Literally cannot believe you went as something other than the Scream killer. And no gun? What kind of spy are you?" 

Kurt shifts his feet uncomfortably. "I'm legally not allowed to hold one– not even a fake one." 

You raise your eyebrows in tandem, "noted." 

"B-but you look amazing," he stutters (and stares at your cleavage). "Let me guess… Catwoman?" 

You raise your cup and reply, "technically it's feline superheroine costume, but yes." 

"It's great, you look super hot," he says and wow he's lame at flirting but he's also super sincere about it and that's kinda doing it for you. "Do you want another drink?" 

You polish off the one in your hand and pull him into the kitchen area, avoiding the makeout sessions and shotgunners. You settle back against the counter and watch Kurt's every move as he fixes you a drink just to be on the safe side. He makes a screwdriver with almost no vodka in it, which is actually adorable. You figure either A) he doesn't want you to think he's trying to get you drunk or B) he made it how he likes it, which is confirmed when he makes one for himself the exact same way. 

“So do you come here often,” Kurt asks as he tries to lean sauvely on the counter (and getting his sleeve wet in the process). “Oh shit…” 

You laugh boisterously. “Did you really ask…? I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Um, kind of? I’ve been to Bobby’s parties before, but this will be my first Halloween party here. I’m surprised to see you without a camera in your hand.” 

This time Kurt sighs mournfully, “Yeah, I’m not allowed to do that either. Kurtsworld96 is officially dead.” 

“Aw, poor baby,” you reply with a mock pouty lip and brush some of the gel from hair slicked back hair off of his forehead. “Actually, I think I like you better without the camera. You have pretty eyes.” 

Kurt blushes and an instagram girl friend ropes you into a game of truth or dare (Kurt follows, naturally). You ignore the game for the most part and keep talking to him, learning that he is intimately familiar with your channel and it's domme content. He has to lean close to you to be heard over the occasional burst of laughter from the people actually playing the game. 

"Yeah, I like the video you did with The_Alpha_Canadian,” he says, referencing a video where you edged a gym bro for over an hour. “I wasn’t as impressed with his performance, like, if it was me, I would have been begging you to peg me.” 

Heat floods through your veins. Guys were all over your stream, accounting for 70% of your revenue– but as soon as it came to admitting they wanted you, or admitting they wanted to be dominated– suddenly the enthusiasm dries up and they all run scared. Kurt did not seem to suffer from at least saying it in confidence. 

You were going to ask him a question, but then half a dozen phone cameras with the flash on were being shoved in your face. “What?!”

“Truth or Dare, bitch!” Someone screamed. 

“Dare,” you growl, and swat at least three cameras out of your face which make the rest of them back up and turn their lights off out of fear respect. 

“Switch costumes with Melli!” 

MasochistMelli, your favorite collaborator (god, she’s a great submissive), was dressed as an angel until she wasn’t, that is. You and her are of similar physical size and you unzip the pleather bodysuit that’s been sticking to your body for hours. She laughs about exchanging sweaty clothes, and just behind her, you catch Kurt’s slack jawed expression as he gazes at your nearly nude forms. It reminds you how much you want to break him (knowing he’s either a total virgin or near enough). 

Once you finished donning the white feathery dress, halo and wings, the group starts seven minutes in heaven (because of course they do, it’s fucking faux high school in this bitch), and you drag the boy into the nearest closet to escape getting stuck with anyone else. 

"Oh hey, I–"  you interrupt him by pulling his lapels and smashing your lips to his. 

Kurt instantly sighs and cups his hands around your waist, pulling you close. He tastes like orange juice and licks what’s left of the flavored lip gloss clinging to your bottom lip. Just to tease, you nip his lip and suck a quick hickey into his neck. 

Kurt swears softly and his grip on your body gets tighter. “This doesn’t have to be just seven minutes, right? I mean, I’m cool with doing this the entire night if you are…” 

Chuckling, you lean back so you can look at his face. “Did you like that little show earlier? Basically got to see me naked. Did that make you hard, Kurt?” 

The man kisses you again and hides his face in your neck and you can barely understand his words in between the hundreds of desperate kisses he peppers on your neck and chest. “Actually… I mean it would have… definitely… normally I’d be rock hard by now… if I wasn’t, you know…” 

You hold still and wait for an answer. “If you weren’t what? Gay?” 

“No,” he sighs through his nose and the air cools the tracks of saliva he’s leaving all over your skin. “It’s these stupid meds I’m on now, they kind of, I don’t know… make it hard to get hard...” 

“Oh,” you nod in understanding. “Yeah, I’ve heard of that. My condolences.” You wrap your arm around his neck and let him grope your thighs and continue to kiss every part of you he can reach. “That’s too bad, I was thinking about seeing if you wanted to do a little video together.” 

Kurt lifts his head so fast he almost hits you. “Are you for real right now? I-I… that would literally be a dream come true for me, I don’t think you understand how big I fan I am of yours!” 

“Oh, but babe, what about…?” 

Kurt’s arms encircle you almost lovingly. “If anybody can make me come, it’s going to be you.” 

Challenge accepted. 

A flight of stairs and a few irate obstacles– sorry, partiers– later, you open the trunk of your car and set up your phone’s camcorder with Kurt in tow. “Hey party people and a late happy Halloween! I hope you’re up to some very naughty things tonight. For my part, I have a very special boy here looking for a good time, which I intend to give him full force, no holds bars. Sound good, Mr. Bond?” 

Kurt’s face lights up adorably and he nods so fast he becomes a blur. “Oh me! Yes! Oh god, yes.” 

Getting Kurt hard was easy because he didn’t seem to have hard limits. Degrade him, praise him, manhandle him, finger him– he really did beg for more at every turn. He’s just the perfect little sub. 

You’ve got him on his knees and ride the flat of his tongue against your clit. “Fuck, Kurt, such a good boy. And you learn so fast, baby. Can you guys believe it?” 

You talk to your recording, still unsure if you’re going to upload this or maybe keep it for yourself. Just when you need it, Kurt slips a few of his fingers into your warm channel and he fucks you at the same rate you hump his tongue. Your orgasm approaches fast, he can hear it coming and he groans at your taste, wanting to make it come faster and succeeding. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” your voice crescendoes until you softly keen and drench Kurt’s fingers in more slick. “That’s good, that’s good, Kurt. Stop now, baby, give me a minute.” 

Kurt rests his sweat slick forehead on your bare hip, his warm breath making you shiver in the night air. “Mommy. Please… I need you to fuck me. Please fuck me, mommy…” 

You can feel his erection brush against your calf and let him rub himself on your leg only because you know he can’t come with such little stimulation. “Okay pet. Can you stretch yourself out for me?” 

Kurt whimpers. “I’ve never done it by myself before…” 

You pet his hair back soothingly. “It’s okay baby. It’s okay…” 

…

You are strapped, camcorder propped up, car trunk open to give Kurt somewhere to bend over, and his ass thoroughly stretched and lubed. His legs are shaking from the effort not to spear himself onto the thick silicone you have been teasing his hole with. 

“Are you sure you’re ready, baby?,” you say just to be a dick. 

Kurt growls and answers you by arching his back more (but not begging, he’s been whimpering and begging for so long now, of course he’s ready!). 

“Here it comes.” You push the curved tip of the dildo passed his muscled ring and switch the vibration on. As soon as he relaxed just a tiny bit, you shoved the rest of it in fast, all six inches of it until the harness is right up against his cheeks and he’s nearly fallen to his face. Kurt yelps at the sudden movement, but as soon as he finds his footing again, he pushes back just to get it as deep as it can go. “Oh good fucking boy, Kurt! Look at you! You’re doing so well baby.” 

You can’t see his face from behind but you can imagine his jaw hanging open and the silent scream plastered on his face. “Do you want it fast and hard–” 

“Yes!” Kurt’s voice is shrill– “mommy, yes, don’t hold back…” 

As he wishes, you smirk slyly to your camera.

His back arches further when you take up a handful of his hair, the dry gel rehydrating and caking between your fingers. You use it to hold on to him as you start to thrust, keeping an even and quick tempo to ease yourself into the motion. It's not a position you are given often and it feels like such a treat and an honor to give Kurt what he wants– what he needs. 

And god, he's so vocal! You can see in the view window of your recording how red and shiny his cock and balls are, trapped to fullness by the black ring you cinched around it earlier. And when you thrust deep and smack your hips audibly against his, it twitches and begs for release. 

"Fuck baby," you reach around his hip and rip the ring off, "come if you can. I wanna see you. Will you make a mess for me, good boy?" 

Kurt whines his unintelligible answer and fucks himself back on your cock until his whole body siezes and his legs buckle under him. You quickly fist his spurting cock and milk as much white cum out of him as you can, even so far as to pinch the skin of his sack when he seems to be empty and you are instantly rewarded with a full, final jet that hits right into your front facing camera lens. 

Your laughter rings out high and satisfied as you pull your cock out and guide Kurt to rest halfway into the trunk. He's shaking like a leaf in the autumn air but so are you, so exhausted from the sex and in need of a nice warm bed. You pick up your phone and wipe the salty cum off with your tongue, getting enough to stop the video. 

"You okay there, Mr. Bond? I'm not going to have to stuff the rest of you into the trunk and dump your body somewhere, am I?" 

The man lifts his head weakly, looking like he's been through a hurricane. "Do I get the full domme experience? With the whole aftercare and cuddling?" 

You chuckle and stroke some of his hair out of his eyes. "Absolutely."

Previous | Masterlist | Next: GOT Koner Body Worship

I got trapped in a 5 hour game of Aggravation (a real board game by the way lol) it was a lot if fun but it was midnight before I was freed from it lol) thats why this was late

[animatedrapture]

"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

[actualbird]

alpha/alpha couple marluke and omega/omega couple vynartem <3

n/s//f///w text in response also why is this answer 1.5k words oh my god

okay for this answer im going to skip over omega couple vynartem (i'll get back to them eventually) because alpha couple marluke FRITZED MY BRAIN WITH A VERY SPECIFIC SMUT SCENARIO AND I NEED TO TELL U ABOUT IT

yes, YES absolutely yes to alpha!luke and alpha!marius im frothing at the mouth. in my ideal omegaverse au setting, it's totally fucking impossible to for sure certainly clock what another person's a/b/o biology without them telling you outright or if u take a gander at their medical files. like somebody Could make assumptions, but it's considered a jerk move, assuming that biology and personality have some kind of intrinsic link. still, after that first tense meeting where luke comes into the nxx all angry tense, after marius gets to know luke a bit more, marius privately has luke pegged as a beta. yeah yeah, it's a jerk move, marius knows, but hes already made peace with the fact thats hes kind of a jerk sometimes, so he lets himself have his assumption.

anyway marius and luke fall in love and get together, it's awesome, and they eventually start sleeping with each other, and they both tell the other that theyre an alpha. not a problem for either of them, but marius is a bit worried and asks luke about their sex life.

up until this point, it's been marius who's been taking the lead, being the more dominating one, topping and all that jazz. it had started like this because luke was a virgin prior to this relationship and he didnt know how to Do Things, he was more comfortable with marius showing him the ropes and marius obviously Loved That A Lot. he loved it because hell yeah, fucking luke pearce, but also hell yeah because it satisfied the alpha brain in him, to claim his partner, to take care of his partner.

but theyre at a point in their relationship now that like, luke has already been Shown The Ropes, luke damn well knows how sex works, how marius works, and marius is worried that luke is doing his self sacrificial bullshit in regards to his own dick, putting marius' desires over his own. luke is an alpha, marius is sure that luke has an instinct deep in his mind to take the reins as well, is luke repressing that part of his desires to make marius happy? is marius...making luke do this?

so marius confronts luke about it in the most I'm So Totally Not Stressed, Dude, I'm Not Stressed At All way possible. like "hey, you know, im like, a switch through and through, i'd be down if you wanted to fuck me."

and luke is just like. blinking. confused. bc theyre currently in an IKEA shopping for a new coat rack and marius brings this up outta nowhere. "HUH?"

"I'M JUST SAYING, I'D LOVE TO TAKE YOUR DICK."

"MARIUS," luke covers marius' mouth as an elderly lady passes by. "CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS WHEN NOT SURROUNDED BY SWEDISH FURNITURE AND OTHER PEOPLE???"

so they talk about it when not surrounded by swedish furniture and other people. and the conversation goes something like luke very much reassuring marius that he isnt forcing luke to repress anything. luke quite likes their sex life right now. luke admits that alpha brain is starting to get a liiiiittle bit antsy, it's Definitely giving luke the same desires marius has, in terms of power n control in bed, but also luke isnt...quite ready to indulge that side of him yet. hes...

"dont laugh, but im a bit scared," luke says. hes trying to play his words off as chill, but marius can see him fidgeting nervously with his fingers.

"scared?" marius presses.

"im---marius, you know what my background is. im not just any alpha. i might get rough."

and hooooo boy, does marius know what luke's background is. the government agency training is very obvious to marius whenever luke is naked, luke could easily lift marius over his shoulder, luke could easily overpower marius in every way. additionally, across the cases that the team has tackled together, marius has seen luke's mean side. he's seen how luke can be absolutely ruthless and thinking about that paired with luke's strength makes marius realize that luke, if he let himself, would easily be able to pin marius down, to make marius helpless to him and only him, to make marius take everything luke wants to give and

UH

HM.

MARIUS, NOW THAT HE'S THOUGHT ABOUT IT, REALLY REALLY WANTS THAT NOW.

which marius makes VERY CLEAR IMMEDIATELY but also he backs off when luke voices that hes still not completely comfortable indulging that part of himself. so they put a pin on it for a while, their sex life continues as normal.

until luke gets his rut triggered for some reason.

for those who dont know, a rut in omegaverse is basically like the classic omega heat but it's for alphas and instead of "i need my hole fucked NOW" it's "i need to fuck a hole NOW." lemme just skim over all the worldbuilding of heat/rut, it's a natural thing but also theres meds i guess to delay it or whatever but also strenuous activity or high stress emotions can trigger it nonetheless.

ANYWAY, BACK TO THE HORNY, luke hasnt had a rut in a long time, he was single for a long time and didnt wanna waste time dealing with it himself if he was just gonna be miserable the whole time, so he took suppressants, but something something high stress situation happens that pushes past those meds and luke's brain knows he isnt single anymore, that hes got somebody he trusts that can help him, somebody who had told luke that he wants this and---

"are you sure?" luke says, his words shaky, his voice breathy. marius came over to his place the moment luke called and explained the situation, and luke stands in front of him. he looks wrecked, marius thinks. his skin is flushed, his hands twitch as if he wants so desperately to touch marius, but he doesnt let himself.

"im sure," marius walks forward, looking luke in the eyes. in luke's gaze, theres an intense hunger that marius has never seen before and marius wants to be devoured. "take me, luke."

marius doesnt have to convince luke anymore than that because luke replies by grabbing marius by the collar of his shirt, pushing him against the wall violently, his lips pressed to marius' in a frenzied kiss that takes marius' breath away.

luke fucks marius that night SO MUCH. MARATHON SEX, FELLAS. INSANE AMOUNTS OF COME.

first time right up against the wall because luke is so on edge that he cant even wait for a horizontal surface. the prep is fast, just on the edge of being cruel, and marius is dizzy at how luke fucks him with his fingers to stretch him, at how luke litters marks all over marius' neck the entire time until marius whines for his cock and the sound luke makes at that...a dark growl, hungry and dangerous. marius cant think much about how hot that was because luke lines his cock up with marius' hole and fucks him mercilessly, fucks him until marius' legs go weak after marius comes, until marius cant brace himself against the wall anymore and luke has to hold him up as he thrusts into marius' heat hard.

second time they make it to the bed because after the first time, marius quite literally slides down the wall, his hole leaking luke's first load of come. luke's protective care instincts briefly trump his horny instincts and he carries marius to somewhere softer. this round is a bit more gentle, since the first one took the edge off. marius cries. marius totally cries. how could he not? luke fucks him that time with long, languid thrusts, as if hes trying to carve a space inside marius made just for him. marius comes again and, deliriously, he tells luke to keep going, please dont stop, please. and luke hooks marius legs over his shoulders, practically bends marius in half, and buries his cock deep, releases inside marius so thick and hot that even though marius isnt going through a rut of his own, his own cock gives another feeble twitch.

all the times after that are kindaaaaa a blur for both of them HAHA.

the morning after though, marius wakes up. hes cuddled up against luke and he is no longer covered in come and the thought that luke had cleaned him up after makes marius' heart go all warm. luke totally has a whole "IM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO ROUGH LAST NIGHT" and marius has to shush that bullshit with "dude shut up i loved it, chill" and they eventually go make breakfast

or well, they try. the moment marius tries to get out of the bed and walk his legs are just

not working all that well

luke: IM. SO SORRY

marius, genuinely feeling proud about how much dickings he went thru last night: im not ;)

luke: //buries his face in his pillow to hide his blush

[dapandapod]

Hehe I'm gonna spam you

33 with lambden? 🥺 Lambert being hugged for the first time ever, or the first time in a very long while (since he last saw Aiden)

33. the hug from that one person who is allowed to hug you

Feel free my sweet! This accidently got a bit sad, with all the canon pains I could fit into it, but not as sad as it could have gotten. But there be hug!! And thank you @kuripon for doing a beta read for me, you are the best! Enjoy <3

Warnings: Canon typical violence and swearing, implied loss of Aiden but not to worry, no permanent harm will come to my boy. Take care!

Send me a hug prompt! On Ao3! Hug collection here

Lambert doesn’t have a good relationship with skin to skin contact. One way or another, it has always connected to pain.

Be it in a past life, where his father took out his rage and disappointment in the world on those he was supposed to love the most.

Be it the place that didn’t let him protect his family and put him through torture he barely survived.

Be it by the hand of a lover, who would accept coin to carve another mark into his skin.

There is no logical reason to let anybody close enough, not for a quick fuck or even a brotherly clasp of arms. There is nothing to gain from another body against his, except for the most temporary of sensations.

Lambert always took pride in his honesty. He doesn’t fear voicing his thoughts, the feelings he is told he doesn’t have. There is no point in softening his words. The one thing that Lambert appreciates most from others is their respect and their truth.

Many people don’t like Lambert. Too many sharp edges and blunt words. But someone he could never get rid of was Aiden. He is a Cat witcher, and there are enough jokes about cats and dogs to understand where this is going.

Aiden isn’t scared off. Aiden doesn’t leave. Aiden doesn’t take it personally when Lambert is fed up with all the bullshit around him.

It is… odd, and strangely comforting. The one person that can match him step for bloody step, the one man who can turn a prank into a crime.

Lambert isn’t shy with admitting his thoughts. Maybe he doesn’t tell Aiden to his face that he is the best man he has ever met, but it’s a near thing.

But not as near as Aiden keeps standing, sitting, sleeping next to him. Young witchers could fall asleep mid wrestle and still not be as close as Aiden is at all times.

At first, Lambert loathes it. Skin on skin contact, then you have let them too close, and by then, you are already dead. A hand on the back of his neck, by his elbow. Shoulder bumps, knees pressing together, clapping on the back.. it never ends.

They spend a lot of time together, however, and Lambert more or less gets used to it. He allows it, sometimes even initiating the touch.

But winter comes and Aiden is called away. It is too late in the year to make it to Kaer Morhen, so he is stuck. He finds a town big enough to flit between taverns and inns without raising too much suspicion, but he hates it.

Some people fancy a taste of danger and more than once, Lambert has to fend off people approaching him for a quick roll in the hay.

This is when he realizes he has changed. Their hands stray, yes, more than he has ever allowed hands to stray without a reason before. But it doesn’t feel right, and he doesn’t want them in his bed, or himself in theirs.

Come spring, Aiden’s hand on his shoulder is a relief, his shoulder against his back as he laughs too loudly.

Come spring, Lambert learns a new way to show affection. The word in itself makes him shiver in distaste, but he can’t find any other word that fits well enough.

Come spring, Lambert is crawling out from some mines infested with Endrega warriors with a big gash in his leg. When he wobbles, he thinks Aiden means to catch him, but instead of steadying him and then letting go, Aiden steps into his space.

He is too tired to protest, the toxins clouding his mind and adrenaline making his hands shake. Aiden drops his sword and then guides Lambert's head to lay on his shoulder. Gently, he pries Lambert’s own sword out of his white knuckled grip, and he arranges them around his own hips.

Aiden puts his arms around Lambert's shoulders and back, pulling him close to take most of his weight.

“Neat, huh?” Aiden says, voice low and calm. “A trick I learned from a prostitute in Vizima a few years back. She called it an embrace.”

“I know what a hug is, Aiden,” Lambert snarks, heart doing all kinds of acrobatics in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s all the potions, Aiden's proximity or if he is just dying, but something is up.

“Have you ever had one?” Aiden asks knowingly, and that shuts Lambert up. “I find it calms you down a bit after you get used to it.”

“Hmm.” Oh no, he sounds like Geralt. “Fuck.” Better.

“I know, right? I didn’t trust her at all, and rightly so it would turn out, as she sent the witch hunters on me after I paid, but that embrace really did wonders for my blood pressure.”

“You have perfect control of your blood pressure.”

“Exactly.”

Eventually, they have to let go. There are unnerving sounds of movement still in the mines, so Lambert decides to drop a bomb on their asses, and hopefully close the entrance well behind them.

After that they have to go collect payment, find a room, or at least a place to camp for the night. The innkeeper claps his hand on Lambert's shoulder, and it is not only because of the bruise that he makes a face and pulls away.

They do manage to get a room, just the one, but with two beds at least, not the kind they have to share with four others.

With no more potions clouding his mind, and no more enrega warriors crawling about, Lambert sits on the edge of his bed, fiddling with one of his daggers. He feels restless, even a little nervous, and he can’t stop thinking how for the first time ever, being close to someone made him feel safe.

“Hey, Aiden?”

Aiden turns around, his face cleaner now but his hair still standing in every direction. When their eyes meet and Aiden smiles, Lambert knows he is fucked.

“Yes, Lambchops?”

“Could you show me that hug-thing again?”

Aiden’s smile widens, but he doesn’t tease, doesn’t say anything, just stands in the middle of the room, arms open and leaves it to Lambert to come to him.

So he does. Lambert uses the exact same pose as hours before, letting his head drop to Aiden’s shoulder again.

They stand in silence for a long time, and Lambert’s body starts to settle. He realizes he wouldn’t let anyone this close. There are people he trusts with his life that he wouldn’t let hold him like this.

Just like everything else with Aiden, the Cat witcher has to push it. The hands on Lambert's back and shoulders start to move. Small circles, little squeezes. It feels nice.

“You know, this works lying down too. We can sleep like this,” Aiden offers.

“Flirt,” Lambert mutters, but doesn’t let go.

It is hard for Lambert to disassociate skin to skin contact with pain. If a witcher lets his guard down too much, that witcher will be no more.

Hugs, or as Aiden insists on calling them, embraces, are rare, often after a rough contract or a near death experience.

The worst part is not having to endure the pain to get that one rare treat.

The worst part is losing it.

The first time Lambert ever initiates a hug is when he finds Aiden again, after many long, cold, and lonely years. He is a different person, a little broken and rough around the edges.

Lambert has never loved him more.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 17

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: Feelings! PTSD! Anxiety! Clint! Team bonding! Reader is a badass 😍 And comic book medical accuracy .

Un-beta-ed.

"It smells like a liquor factory in here," Bucky's voice came from the kitchenside, followed by noises of the team's arrival. Via portal, because the elevator made zero noise.

"I suggest you avoid the area around me and Clint. It might be contaminated." My voice sounded sharp to my own ears. I sat in silence for several hours, waiting for the team's return, while Clint restlessly dozed next to me.

My words caused the team to freeze in their tracks, owlishly blinking at me and at Clint laying sprawled on the floor, surrounded by plastic bags and biological hazard containment units. Tony's helmet swiftly covered his face - I heard muffled sounds coming from within, probably Friday's explanations. In seconds, the helmet retracted, showing an extremely worried Tony.

"How do you feel, Princess? Any weakness, any pain?"

"No symptoms, Tony. Just a fuckton of anxiety," I admitted, avoiding the concerned looks of Tony's teammates. "I almost drowned the room in alcohol but warned you just to be safe. Also, your alien pathogen protocol sucks."

"We made it so unauthorized personnel wouldn't get their hands on Thor's or Loki's blood samples," Bruce supplied meekly from where he was leaning against Steve, wearing a tattered hoodie and his hulk-out pants. "Off to decon we go," The scientist sighed. "Friday, code seven-zero-three-five-five. Pull up the data you gathered. In the shower." The man was exhausted, yet the call of science seemed to give Bruce a tiny energy boost. With newfound determination, he waddled to the communal showers, the rest of the team in tow.

Natasha's stare was truly unnerving. I was fully aware she and Barton had long history; the fact that I had to respond to one of the deadliest assassins if I had made even the slightest mistake - anxiety mixed with blind terror in me. I fought the nausea and the headache, focusing on Clint's hair between my fingers. His steady breathing.

He'd be okay. He had to be okay.

"You did great, Princess," The time passed in a blink. Bruce's warm hands were encompassing mine - gently pulling me away from Clint. I looked at Banner's face with unseeing eyes.

"I heard what Friday said and I can only applaud your quick thinking. You saved his life," Strange, sounding uncharacteristically quiet and bashful, parroted Bruce, hovering behind the scientist. His angular face was contorted in sorrow. "I believe I should apologize for dropping Barton onto you like that. I underestimated the extent of his injuries." The man sounded so, so guilty.

"I saved his life," I repeated in disbelief. Surely they were exaggerating.

"You did, malysh. For that, I am grateful," Natasha's hand found my own, squeezing briefly, before following Steve that had picked up a still-sleeping Clint, to, presumably, carry him to medical. "Come on, Banner, we need you."

Banner gave me a brief squeeze of his own, taking his leave, scurrying after Romanoff. I was left awkwardly standing in front of Strange, both of us disheveled and dazed.

"I ordered pizza," I said, just to fill the grim silence.

"Okay," Just like that, he snapped out of his trance, sitting down on the couch and picking up his food.

The others trickled in, Bucky, Pete, Thor, Loki, Sam, Wanda, Pietro. I saw it all like it was tinted by a thick fog. Their words made a jumbled cacophony when they reached my ears. Tony's arm around me - that woke me up, slightly. I focused on my favourite thing in the world - the faint smell of him, a mix of soap, machine oil and expensive cologne.

"She's shellshocked," Bucky suddenly said, pointing at me.

"No," I frowned. "No. I may be a fumbling idiot but I don't have PTSD."

Tony's breath stuttered in his chest. Promptly, I was turned around, a pair of intelligent brown orbs sharply gazing into my eyes. "Princess?"

"I'm so glad y'all are alright," I choked out, fisting the cotton of his shirt in my palm. "Even Stephen the asshole. Team bonding wouldn't be the same without his sarcasm," Hurrying to hide the fact that I was scared shitless, I did what I do best. I joked.

"Gods, you two are really a match made in heaven," Wanda's tired voice had 110% eye-roll in it. "So much self-deprication, almost as much as brilliance." The witch usually refrained from commenting on people's private thoughts. Usually, but not that day.

"I am relieved to know you hold me in high regards," Stephen's sarcastic remark made it's way around a mouthful of pizza.

Bucky's phone beeped. "They're saying Clint will be out in a few hours. No permanent damage, the gash on his leg won't scar and he's demanding Tony buy his saviour a cake," With a smile, the soldier read the text's contents out loud. "Also, the resident doc wants to hire you." Bucky pointed at me with a teasing grin.

"I, umm, I," Stammering, way to go. "I just - uh, I googled and I improvised? I'm not a doctor or a scientist, I'm a high school student," I replied, voice raising half an octave higher.

"Told you Tony, she's a friggin' genius," Peter sounded way too smug for someone who had a bruise half the size of his head.

"That she is," Tony's voice... Was different. It was honeyed and warm, blanketing me, surrounding me with safety. His arms tightened around me - not uncomfortably so, just enough to ground his presence in my personal space. I snuggled into him happily - he didn't mind at all. The cold glow and faint humming of his arc reactor calmed me. "Friday, cake. Princess cake from the bakery on Seventeenth."

Wow, Tony knew my favourite kind of cake. That was amazing.

"On it, boss." The AI immediately replied. "Well done, Miss." Friday addressed me with the same tone I heard in the lab. Gentle and understanding. It was so very strange.

We mulled around the living room until the pizza was gone and half the occupants were snoring away, dead where they sat. It was an unanimous decision to pull out the unfolding couch and form a cuddle pile of sorts - after such a long and grueling mission with one of their own facing the brink of death, all the superheroes were more than a little unsettled. I didn't exactly know where I fit in that. Obviously, all of them were close in one way or another. Even Loki and Stephen, seeing them get cussed out by Thor for attempting to leave was kind of amusing.

But it got me wondering. Maybe they felt like imposters, too? After all, I wasn't special. Loki wasn't considered a good guy. And Stephen was too much of a lone wolf. All three of us were comfortable alone, used to dealing on our own.

One look from Tony, Stark-patented puppy eyes, and I was making space for myself and for Stephen. Even if Loki insisted on grumbling all the way through, his exhaustion showed in the way he leaned on Thor's arm, using a weakly glimmering spell to summon himself a book and then closing his eyes for a moment.

Muted cheering broke out the moment elevator doors opened, showcasing a pale but smiling Clint held up on both sides by Natasha and Steve, Bruce half asleep on the blonde's other side.

"Looking pretty good for a dead bitch," Clint grinned in my direction.

I couldn't resist the bait. The boomer knew his memes, after all. "She's alive!"

He patted my leg, making his way to a free spot on the ginormous sofa bed. "Aw, pizza," He groused, spying the empty boxes.

"Should arrive in ten minutes," Bucky quipped, waving his phone. Then, the brunette super-soldier looked at me pointedly. "We usually order double after long missions."

"Duly noted, y'all hungry peoples." I said, filing it away for later. Thinking about more missions, more near-death experiences wasn't something I wanted to handle that very moment.

"So, uh, what exactly happened? My memory is pretty spotty," Clint demanded once he got his hands on some food.

"I also need to know. You're going to have to sign a statement and a mission report," Natasha stated apologetically.

I looked at her, confused. "Like... How many details do you need?"

Tony shifted beside me uncomfortably. I put a steadying hand on his leg - my palm was immediately dwarfed by his own. Natasha gave him a Look. "Fury's eyes only, but SHIELD needs to know how you figured out to neutralise a potential alien threat. Bruce ran some tests and this pathogen is... Pretty nasty, to say the least. It has the survivability to be classified as a potential weapon." Natasha's voice was apologetic, once more.

What have I gotten myself into? I was just trying to save a friend. "First of all, I'm not working for Men in Black, like, ever," I made the point to look her in the eyes. A brief moment later, she nodded. Tony relaxed, exhaling soundly. "Okay, get your reading glasses on. It went like this..." I retold the story, taking careful note to voice my thought processes as much as I remembered them. Save for a few surprised gasps and Tony haphazardly kissing the top of my head, the team gave me no interruptions.

Bruce was the first one to react once I was done. "But... How did you think of bloodletting? It's such an unusual solution," He mumbled more to himself.

"I've watched enough horror movies to know better than to introduce a foreign bacteria, such as antibiotics, to a person with an alien infection," I deadpanned, spying a satisfied smile on Stephen's face. "Worst case scenario, the substitution of infected blood with healthy would have diluted the amount of parasites or deflected their attention from eating away Clint's nerve endings. Him going bazinga from pain was my main concern," I admitted, the archer's pained cries once again filling my ears. The memory was still fresh.

"That makes sense," Bruce nodded.

"And what would you have done?" I asked, unable to withhold my curiosity.

"Sedated Clint while I examine the specimens," Banner replied with the obvious. "Then figure out how to cure the infection."

I nodded along slowly. "I considered that option but ultimately, I was too chicken to entertain the possibility of the parasites interacting with heavy sedatives. Fentanyl affects some of the blood components the parasites eat so only God knows how it might have ended."

Banner was impressed, that much was obvious. Tony's lips once again landed on the crown of my head, gentle and warm. More and more people in the room were giving me impressed, happy, grateful looks. It was strange and I squirmed in my spot, putting the half-eaten pizza slice back in the box, Steve immediately eyeing it in contemplation.

"Have at it, you human garbage disposal," I muttered, laying down comfortably. I was still shivering from the adrenaline rush and the soft blanket cocoon I shared with Tony and Stephen - their combined body heat under it - called to me like a siren.

"Are you well?" Loki noticed my state, casting a dark look over the edge of his book.

"Yeah, just cold. Us humans shiver when coming off an adrenaline rush," I remarked absently, pressing myself closer to Tony.

The engineer laid down, spooning me, tangling our legs together. We slept like that, all over each other, every time I stayed in his bed. It felt comfortable, like home, and nobody seemed to mind. Peter and Wanda, already snoozing away, were in a similarly indisposed state, octopus-ing their nearest teammates. Friends. Family.

My eyes drooped. My chest was about to burst with an odd sort of content - quiet, steady and welcoming. Tony's beard tickled my neck, breaths coming in soft puffs against my nape, spreading warmth all over me.

And there was something - someone warm in front of me, too, I could smell the sandalwood and spices of his cologne. Abandoning all reservations, I shamelessly wrapped both of my arms around a larger, more muscular one, taking note to avoid Stephen's scarred, sensitive hands. The flat of his tummy under my palm was rising and falling steadily, his breathing almost in sync with Tony's and mine.

All of us were safe and alive. It mattered to me, perhaps, more than I'd ever cared to admit out loud. As much as I refused to let them all in, for real and beyond silly gimmicks, they still wormed their way inside my heart, inside my brain. Not with long discussions and talking feelings - hell no, that's the hard and the boring shit, but with simply their presence.

Hugs. Mario Kart tournaments. Cake after I'd done good at something. Sunday morning pancakes for all. Homework. Sciencing together. Catching up on memes and just watching funny YouTube videos together. Playing Twister and Monopoly.

For the first time in my life, I had a stable presence. I belonged somwhere. It felt too good to deny, so once again, I allowed myself to be selfish.

✨ Taglist of my lovelies ✨ still open.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading

[artificialqueens]

Cause After All This Time, I'm Still Into You (Taywhora) - Winter

a/n: it’s been a lil while but i decided to start posting here again, i put this up on ao3 and my blog but i figure i’d cross post for the anons i saw wanting taywhora, hope y'all enjoy <3

thanks to pink-grapefruit-cafe for betaing :)

Before they were living together, A’whora thought Tayce to be flawless. Literally, where were the flaws? It wasn’t that she had any issues, far from it, but she had one vulnerability and she rarely showed it.

She was terrified of bugs. More specifically, spiders but any insect around her and A’whora could see the sense of unease in her eyes.

It took a screaming Tayce bolting into her room to take her eyes off her sewing machine. The noise made her jump, messing up a stitch in the action. Her roommate stared at her, eyes wide with a mix of fear and shock.

“A’whora! I went to get in the shower but there’s a spider in there, can you please get rid of it.”

A’whora stared back blankly, shrugging before returning her attention to her work. As much as she wanted to help Tayce at any opportunity, her work held most of her attention at this time of day.

“Don’t ignore me, lass! Please, Aurora.” The pleading tone in her voice caught her off guard. A’whora frowned, she wasn’t keen on bugs but she could throw a shoe at a spider if it pleased Tayce. It helped that she was utterly adorable, nervously staying behind her as they walked to the bathroom to get rid of it.

“Fucking hell! It’s huge.” A’whora recoiled, she’d expected something stupid like a daddy -ong-legs but this spider was around the size of her hand. Staring it down made her feel nervous but the terrified Tayce muttering words of encouragement made her remembered what she was doing this for.

She held the shoe in her hand, whacking the creature with all the pent-up fury she had from years of repressed lesbianism. She hit it repeatedly for good measure, glancing over at Tayce to gauge her reaction before erupting in giggles at the shock on her face.

“Fuck, you look like you need therapy.”

“Don’t we all?”

A’whora glanced back at the mangled corpse of the bug, she cleared it up with some toilet roll to her disgust. Picking pieces of dead spider wasn’t her ideal Thursday afternoon activity but seeing the gratefulness of Tayce’s face made it worth it.

“Oh, you’re such a doll. Thanks ‘Rory you’re a lifesaver.” With the affectionate nickname, Tayce pressed her lips to A’whora’s cheek before heading off to prepare for her shower.

Oh. She enjoyed that a little too much.

—

Tayce was a private person by nature. She was fine with being expressive, it was something she couldn’t control. But she didn’t let people push past her boundaries. It had worked for a long time until A’whora came around and melted everything with a flutter of her lashes.

She’d never admit it, and risk boosting such an ego, but Tayce’s weakness was the rude blonde she lived with. Something about her felt comfortable. She was home, someone Tayce never felt a need to fake things around. If she wasn’t into a conversation or just wanted to be alone, A’whora understood. Sometimes she got lonely, it was something that went unspoken for months. Just the occasional day where Tayce was all over A’whora much to the latters annoyance.

For her part, A’whora never pushed her away. She’d whine a bit about not being able to do her work before returning the attention and trying to keep down a smile when Tayce would lay her head on her shoulder, quietly making her desires known before wrapping her arms around her waist to pull her into a long embrace.

You know. Normal friend stuff.

It happened to be one of those days, Tayce could feel herself going too far into her head. She needed someone next to her to take those thoughts away, but A’whora had been complaining about how busy she was for days. Tayce had barely seen her, and it hurt to think that she would shake her off if she went to find her.

She tried to reassure herself, this was ridiculous. She wasn’t dependent on her roommate. She had a life and friends, but something about being with A’whora soothed her to her core. The internal debate kept on, though her feet decided for her as Tayce realised she was stood outside the door of A’whora’s sewing room

She opened the door to see her roommate hunched over her sewing machine, brows furrowed as she concentrated hard on constructing the outfit. The creek of the door caught her attention, her eyes flying to Tayce stood in the doorway.

“You alright there lass?” A’whora looked the woman in front of her up and down. Something felt different but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Tayce walked over silently, perching her head on A’whora’s shoulder as her arms wrapped around her waist. They sat there, soundlessly embracing without much care for the world. A’whora was vaguely aware of the work in front of her but the warmth that Tayce radiated was intoxicating. She could never fight being held by her arms.

“Is today one of those days where you need attention?” Tayce let out a hum of agreement, not quite able to find the words to describe her feelings. A’whora understood enough, lightly pulling at her wrist and leading them to the couch. Her instinct was to reach for a comfort snack, grabbing the jar they kept of Percy Pigs for things like this.

Though she tried to ignore the growing feelings, she wasn’t against something happening between them.

That was an understatement, her heart stammered when A’whora turned to her with a small smile and shining eyes. The smaller girl had a resting bitch face, her natural state was sourer than most people could handle but Tayce never found her looking like that unless she was annoyed. When they were alone she was a different person, so much more sweet and loving than anyone else could know.

She envied how easily A’whora opened up to her, it took some time but she’d fully let Tayce in within a few months of living together. It’d been almost a year and a half and that was still something the brunette struggled with. She wanted to tell A’whora everything, about the loneliness and the way she felt unfulfilled despite her cool demeanour.

“Rory, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, you can tell me, anything babe.”

“You’re the only person who doesn’t make me feel alone.“ Tayce tried not to show hesitation in speaking her feelings, instead, leaning her head into A’whora’s shoulder. The warmth of her roommate was enough to distract from most things going on in her head. Though she loved the affection, A’whora realised it was a defence mechanism. If she couldn’t see a reaction then she wouldn’t have to deal with it. That was an interesting way to think but she wasn’t really in a position to judge.

“Tayce, if you ever feel alone, I’m here alright? We get each other better than anyone else. I’d never let someone I genuinely love feel like shit if I could help.”

Tayce let out a muffled sigh, moving her head to still lean into the blonde’s shoulder but be able to speak clearly.

“Someone you genuinely love huh?” Despite clearly being meant as a quip, Tayce’s voice was far too fond, dripping with so much affection it made A’whora’s heart swell. She was thankful Tayce couldn’t see her reaction from where her head was, she wouldn’t live down the blush that took over her face from the comment.

“I love you too, don’t think too hard about it. I can feel you blushing.” Tayce laughed, poking her in the ribs to a delightful giggle from the smaller girl.

It amused her how they’d occasionally get like this, separate from the world stuck in the bliss of each other and yet not wanting to speak a word of their actual feelings. It was painfully obvious there was something between them. Lawrence loved to comment on the sexual tension but Tayce thought it ran deeper than that. There was so much comfort in their relationship, it didn’t make sense to most people.

From how flustered she got, A’whora had to have some kind of feelings for her. Tayce never wanted to pry, she liked where they were at.

Or she was scared to lose it and didn’t want to risk it on the off chance she read it all wrong.

A’whora saw the thoughtful look on Tayce’s face and wanted nothing more than to kiss it off. The timing felt wrong, another day they may have closed the gap but the emotions were too raw. It felt like she would take advantage of her roommate finally letting her feelings out.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. It was late by the time A’whora realised Tayce had fallen asleep, arms still tightly holding her. Moving would be cruel, seeing the taller woman so peaceful was rare. She enjoyed the warmth that Tayce always emitted, it always put her in a near euphoric, calm state. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep with her, content to cuddle like this for a long time.

—

Tayce felt groggy, noting where she was situated on the couch with A’whora in her arms before anything else. She realised they must have fallen asleep at some point, cuddled together in something heart-achingly domestic.

She grabbed her phone, realising it was almost 3 am and that her body would kill if she slept the night on a couch that was too small for her. It could just about fit A’whora when she reclined on it but Tayce’s feet always dangled over the edge uncomfortably.

She lightly tapped A’whora, who let out a sleepy murmur before placing her head back onto Tayce’s chest.

“Get up A’whora, we need to go to bed.”

The smaller girl hummed, finally sitting up. The sight of her rubbing her sleepy eyes was enough to make Tayce want to squeal. Maybe it was the tiredness but she just wanted to hold A’whora close to her until the end of time and hear her let out her little sleepy noises and cuddle into her chest.

The blonde stood up, about to walk to her room before Tayce tugged at her hand.

“No, with me.” Her words came out softer than she meant, her voice tender and tired. A’whora just nodded, letting Tayce lead them to her room and nestle into her bed.

The smaller girl poked her leg with a small laugh, eyes lighting up in amusement at the jeans still on her.

“Are you really going to sleep in jeans?” It took Tayce that long to realise she still had denim clung to her legs. The fatigue had gotten to her, brain too fuzzy to process it. Begrudgingly she got up, throwing some pajamas on, glad the darkness masked her body. She threw a shirt and short A’whora, muttering that she should get changed too.

The darkness wasn’t only hiding Tayce, her roommate held the clothes, sleepily blinking at them before she realised what was happening. She felt grateful that the blush on her face wasn’t visible, the feeling of Tayce’s clothes on her made A’whora’s heart tighten. Soft, little domestic moments that her roommate wouldn’t think about in a few minutes. They were what she cherished most.

The brunette made her way back to the bed, pulling the smaller girl into a tight hug before letting her head settle back onto her chest. She was slipping from consciousness but quietly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened. She’d like to sleep next to A’whora more often.

The morning came quicker than either would have liked, wanting nothing more than to stay cuddled up but not ready for the implications that came with that. Tayce woke up first, nestling herself back into the warmth of her bed after attempting to move only to find a sleeping A’whora curled into her.

The blonde didn’t wake up as gracefully, she stirred shortly after but bolted up at the realisation of what had happened. Tayce wanted to put her head back down and cuddle more but the blush that erupted on the other woman’s face told her all she needed to know.

“I asked you to, don’t start freaking out and apologising. It’s fine.”

A’whora shrugged, hiding her face in Tayce’s shoulder with a slight grumble. She wasn’t ready to deal with the day and gave in to the warmth the brunette provided.

They got up later, not thrilled to separate but knowing they needed to. The previous night left unspoken. Maybe that was better for now.

—

Though she was just as bad, Tayce found it hilarious how long A’whora took to get ready. It wasn’t because she took a long time doing everything. She just faffed around while getting ready and ended up taking an hour longer than she meant to.

The time wasn’t for nothing, A’whora finally came out of her room looking so beautiful it left Tayce speechless. Her outfit was nice, a black blazer and trousers. It wouldn’t be that amazing on anyone else but the way it fit around her curves made Tayce’s heart speed up. She looked hot, blonde hair in its natural wavy state that looked like it would be euphoric to run her hands through.

“Tayce? You’re awfully quiet there.”

“You look ethereal.”

A’whora looked taken aback by how sincere Tayce sounded. She would tell the smaller woman if something was off but seeing her speechless was something new. She must have done a damn good job.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, when aren’t you breathtaking though.”

“Little old me? Breathtaking? You’re too kind, Aurora.” Tayce played coy, batting her lashes with fake innocence as her roommate let out a soft laugh at the act. It was something she’d do all the time, but that never meant A’whora’s heart would stop fluttering every time she did it.

Taking another glance at her as they prepared to leave, Tayce wondered how she was going to get through a dinner with her notoriously teasing friends and A’whora looking like that. She could hear the remark Lawrence would make about their sexual tension, maybe a small comment from Tia about how, for her namesake, A’whora didn’t look like a whore. The usual fun things.

She’d make it through, somehow.

—

“Christ, Bims, I’ve never seen you so covered up.”

Tayce was greeted by the sight of a modest-looking Bimini sitting with a few of their other friends as she and A’whora made their way to the table. A modest outfit for them was just not having much skin out, though their legs were still out it was something different.

“Tayce, you look like a rich bitch who’s about to go kill her husband and run off with her new girlfriend. Speaking of the new girlfriend, hey A’whora.” Bimini shot back, the table erupting into laughter at the quip. Tayce glanced at the girl next to her, whose eyes had fallen to the floor trying to hide the blush quickly forming on her cheeks.

“Who me? That’s quite a high compliment. Though I wouldn’t trust this bitch to keep a secret like a murder plot when she can barely keep her mouth shut when someone wears something ugly.”

A’whora laughed at the comment, despite being unable to manage a reply. She huffed a bit, lightly jabbing Tayce with her elbow and praying it came across that she just didn’t care for the joke.

“Oh lord, we can’t go out for anything with these two without the sexual tension following them. How’s that been going for you ladies?” Lawrence interjected, getting another round of laughter from their friends.

“I’m just trying to look at this menu, you all are hounds, get your minds out of the gutter.”

“The only sexual tension Lawrence knows is watching Ellie with her Monster can,” A’whora paused, “and being jealous of the monster can.”

Tayce let out a howl of laughter that caught the attention of their table and the other people surrounding them. She didn’t care for the eyes on them. Her attention was on the blonde looking proud at her joke. There was something about the way A’whora would puff out her chest when she made someone laugh like that, she couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Ellie arrived soon after, utterly bewildered by the taken aback look on Lawrence’s face and the giggles coming from the rest of the table.

“What happened here?”

That was a hard question to answer. No one wanted to out Lawrence’s feelings, though there was nothing else to explain it. Bimini just shrugged, saying something about A’whora being surprisingly funny. Tayce didn’t pay them much attention, she felt a hand make its way onto her thigh. A’whora wasn’t looking at her but she could see the small smile creep its way onto her face as a hand came to rest on top of her own.

The night went pretty easy after that, jokes aplenty but no one paying too much attention to the way Tayce kept sneaking glances at A’whora or the way their hands hadn’t moved until they’d gotten their food and found their way back after.

Bimini had given her a curious look at some point, they clearly knew something but left it unspoken. Tayce didn’t know if she could handle another comment about them looking like a couple and the utterly flustered A’whora that would look to her to throw something back.

She’d have to get A’whora better at handling comments when she was flustered. It was cute how she lost the ability to speak if it was particularly bad, but the brunette hated to always be the one to deny things and keep the banter going.

—

Tayce felt light as A’whora leant against her, sat on a bench in the station waiting for the last train to bring them home. They’d both drunk a little too much, sober enough to walk and talk but minds fuzzy with the wine and a light fog of tiredness. The blonde had her head leant on her shoulder, trying to let her brain rest from attempting to stay social while progressively getting more drunk.

The wine did interesting things to her, it didn’t taste as bad as most alcohol though she still didn’t like it. Drinking enough left her floating, consciousness a little fuzzy but still attentive enough to navigate herself home. Her reaction times slowed, Tayce found this very amusing as she took a second to blink and realise she’d been tapped on the shoulder. It was cute to see the cogs whirring in her brain as things happened around her.

Tayce herself wasn’t near sober either. She could hold herself together better than A’whora but a much softer side of her came out with the wine they’d had with their meals. She wasn’t acting on it but seeing the fuzzy state of her roommate made her want to squeeze her into her arms and protect her from the world. A’whora was always cute but the curious glances she gave everything was enough to make anyone love her.

A’whora felt another poke on her shoulder, turning to see a laughing Tayce mimicking her confused expression before laughing harder.

“Bitch!” The smaller girl shoved her lightly, making Tayce fall into the arm of her chair mid laughter.

They progressively got a little more aggressive with their game. It started with Tayce pushing A'whora back, the latter scurrying off to avoid it before lightly shoving Tayce as she stood up to chase after her. Pushes were punctuated by uncontrolled giggles from the pair as they continued.

Tayce saw a chance to win, shoving A’whora into the wall behind them, leaving her pinned to it with Tayce in her face. She realised the implications of this but the pure look in A’whora’s eyes was enough to sway any doubt. She really was adorable.

Though it took a second to realise exactly where Tayce was and how close their faces were, A’whora moved her hand, running it through Tayce’s hair with a loving smile adorning her face. She leant into Tayce’s hand as it cupped her face, lightly inching their faces closer together until she could the warmth of her breath on her face. There was a slight smell of wine on Tayce’s breath but A’whora knew she had the same. It didn’t dissuade her as Tayce closed the gap, pressing their lips together in a kiss that had been a long time coming.

Things moved, they deepened the kiss, ignoring the world around them. The only thing that A’whora saw was Tayce, her beauty effortless and the loving side spilling out of her the longer they stayed that close.

Tayce jolted out of the kiss eventually, leaving a shocked A’whora frozen to her spot. Tayce grumbled something, whipping around to the train behind them and pulling A’whora in before she had time to blink.

The taller woman let out a sigh of relief as they managed to board just before the train left the station. She turned to the blonde to see her still staring at the door of the train, confused about how quickly everything had transpired.

Tayce pulled her to the seats on the train, sliding into the window seat to let A’whora lean on her. It was then she realised her hair had stayed soft and wavy, and finally listened to her heart and started running her hands through it. A giddy feeling built up as the smaller girl leant into it, such a soft smile on her face that Tayce just wanted to kiss her and get her to grin more and more.

So she did.

Tayce took her face up from its resting place on her shoulder to let them have another go at a long kiss without being interrupted by transport. A’whora leant into it, kissing Tayce back with her heart pounding in her chest.

They broke apart for breath, A’whora’s face in a smitten smile. Something in her eyes was the most tender thing Tayce had ever seen and it made her pull the girl into a tight hug.

“You’re so cute,” She mumbled into the top of A’whora’s head as she cuddled into Tayce.

They stayed entangled together until they had to get off, Tayce peppering A’whora with kisses as she smiled giddily and giggled at the rush of compliments Tayce would spout when they broke apart. It was messy and drunk but that made the feeling feel more sincere. It didn’t have to be perfect, to be kissing A’whora was enough for Tayce to feel like she was levitating.

A’whora was too distracted by the warmth of the taller woman to realise when they pulled into their stop. It took a light tug at her hand for them to get off, though A’whora wrapped her fingers around Tayce’s hand, refusing to let it go. They stayed hand in hand for the short walk home, the blonde was surprised she was walking fine but the cold evening air started to sober her enough to walk straight and navigate with Tayce rather than being pulled along.

Getting in was another matter, the door opened fine but the minute she walked through the door Tayce felt A’whora’s hand leave hers. She wanted to go tug on her hand once more, cuddling into each other in the warmth of her bed but something left her rooted to the floor, staring helplessly as her roommate walked into her room.

Or she would have, had she not noticed Tayce still stood in the doorway staring at her.

“Tayce? You just gonna stand there? At least make sure you take your makeup off.”

The sudden words made her jolt up, realising she was still fully dressed with a full face of makeup planning to faceplant into her bed. A’whora took the initiative to take the lead for once, leading the taller girl by hand into their bathroom and handing her some makeup wipes before getting to work on her face.

It proved to be a difficult task, Tayce leaning over to kiss her as she took it off and getting her lipstick on her cheek every time.

“Tayce! If you want to kiss me at least take your lipstick off first.”

“Oh so if I take it off I can kiss you as much as I want?”

“Yes just stop leaving lipstick on my face.”

Tayce turned to her with a sly grin, pressing her lips to her cheek once more but making sure to make a mess of it, placing softer kisses across her face with a giggle. The annoyance A’whora felt subsided with the quiet laughter that bubbled out of Tayce. She couldn’t be mad at anyone that cute.

Thankfully the brunette began to take off her makeup, focusing on that rather than pestering her roommate. It didn’t take long for the tables to turn, as A’whora turned to her after finishing with an unreadable expression.

“You’re so pretty. You’re so fucking pretty.” Her words sounded completely smitten, something Tayce was sober enough to notice but nowhere near brave enough to address.

“You think so? Like this? I wouldn’t call sitting in the bathroom tipsy with no makeup on my best moment” Tayce let out a soft hum, she felt pretty all of the time but of all the times to comment on it why now? Why while they were still tipsy and with her freshly taken off makeup, she didn’t feel particularly pretty, but the look in A’whora’s eyes said everything she needed to know.

“Yeah, I like your freckles,” A’whora said quietly, moving to place a soft kiss on Tayce’s cheek before making a daring dart for her lips.

It was different from before, they were both sober enough to know exactly what they were doing but neither wanted to stop it. Tayce wrapped her arms around A’whora’s shoulders to steady them as they deepened the kiss.

When they parted, A’whora let out a soft yawn, reminding Tayce of the time, and the fact they were both tired from everything. She picked up the smaller woman, carrying her over to her bed, throwing some pajamas at her, and cuddling into her when they both were changed out of their smart clothes.

Lying there with A’whora curled into her side was when she realised something. She’d avoided her feelings for this long, not reading into things. But being here with her felt so right. All the kisses and little compliments they’d thrown at each other over the night making them both feel warm and fuzzy inside.

She wanted this, to fall asleep next to the blonde and wake up to her, groggy with sleep and not wanting to get up just yet. She wanted them to stay in bed, cuddle up and maybe doze off and sleep more if the day allowed it.

She wanted A’whora. That was all Tayce needed.

The smaller girl hadn’t spoken a word since they cuddled up together, her breathing was quiet and rhythmic, she looked to be sleeping, so Tayce didn’t mind speaking her thoughts.

“I love you.”

A’whora didn’t respond at first, continuing to stay put in her spot in Tayce’s arm before she got a muffled reply.

“I love you too.”

—

Tayce felt her heart flutter at the sight before her when she awoke. A’whora was cuddled into her side, head laid on her chest with an arm flung over her stomach. Her leg followed suit, flopped over Tayce’s, locking her into a close position that she didn’t have the heart to disturb.

She wanted to soak in the warmth of the person cuddled with her but the sharp headache became more obvious the more she sat there. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to get pretty drunk on wine but it ended well enough. Her memories were fuzzy but she could make sense of it all. They’d kissed. A lot. Tayce wished she could feel the sensation sober but that carried too many implications for her hungover brain to handle.

There was one downside to sleeping next to A’whora, she was a light sleeper. Tayce knew the minute she tried to get up no matter how careful she was, the smaller woman would groan about it being too early and proceed to notice what had happened. She couldn’t find it in herself to deal with that right then and there but the throbbing in her head demanded her attention anyway.

Sliding her way out of A’whora’s grasp hurt. She wanted nothing more than to pull her in further, pepper her with soft kisses to wake her up, and stare at her adorable sleepy face.

Somehow Tayce had avoided waking her up, maybe the alcohol had taken a toll on her too. Whatever happened she’d complain about it soon enough, it would be for her own benefit if Tayce grabbed her a bottle of water with the painkillers she was getting.

A’whora started to wake up with Tayce out of the room. She felt like something was missing. Someone. Her tired mind couldn’t quite figure it out but the sound of someone walking into the room was enough to satisfy her, grabbing for the person as she sat on the bed.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Tayce murmured as A’whora leant over to go back to cuddling into her. She assumed the smaller girl was still asleep but the way she nuzzled into her chest and let out a muffled yawn.

“Rory?” Tayce felt her heart start to race. She was awake, she’d heard Tayce calling her cute and was making the conscious decision to stay cuddled into her.

Looks like she’d have to deal with this, no matter how prepared she was.

A’whora let out a hum of acknowledgement that Tayce felt vibrate into her chest. Her position was going to make any attempts at conversation a lot harder.

“Tayce? Cuddle me.” Finally letting out some words, the blonde curled up closer to her. Tayce felt her heart skip a beat as it came out as a muffled whine. Not a question, not the demand she might have meant it as, a quiet question that pulled at her heart that was followed with a sleepy sigh that melted it.

“I will, but you need to take these pain killers for me, this hangover will kill you when you wake up properly.”

Tayce laughed at the face A’whora pulled as she begrudgingly moved from her position to take them. She grumbled something incoherent before looking at Tayce with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

She leant over, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before going back to her place on Tayce’s chest.

A’whora kissed her like it was nothing. Was it something? Was Tayce overthinking it? Absolutely, but that wasn’t the point.

A’whora kissed her. Her roommate. The adorable little blonde was cuddled into her, having kissed her cheek like they were dating. It was too perfect, so domestic it was all she ever needed.

It only took a few more minutes for a soft grunt to come from her chest. A slight pout formed on A’whora’s lips and she muttered about a headache and lifted herself from the comfort of Tayce’s chest.

“Hey, Tayce?”

The brunette turned her attention at the call of her name, staring at A’whora who sat there silently. She stared back for some time before doing something a lot more daring than Tayce ever thought her capable of.

She kissed her again, this time on the lips. Tayce deepened it, one arm falling around A’whora’s waist while the other fell through her soft hair, keeping her close.

Her theory was right. Sober kisses were just as incredible as the drunk ones. The perk was that she’d remember this one.

“Good to know you like that, helpful information.” A’whora giggled, she delighted in the way Tayce’s eyes widened as she pressed another light kiss to her cheek. Her head felt fuzzy, whether that was from the hangover, the tiredness, or Tayce she couldn’t quite tell.

“You hound, You’re going to be chasing me for kisses every hour of every day now I just know it.” Tayce felt lightheaded at the affections. Something about the ease of it all made her stomach go fluttery with feelings she wouldn’t be too quick to disclose.

“That’s your fault for being so kissable. Not my fault.”

The cheek of her roommate was amusing, the brunette held back a snicker. She wanted to laugh it off, the flirting was fairly common between them. The kisses threw her. She just wanted to take a second, process everything that was happening before continuing but a certain blonde loved to keep her on her toes.

“You’re so dumb.”

Tayce could hear the tenderness in her tone, painfully loving and sappy. It would disgust her if she saw it in anyone else, that level of lovey was not something she wanted to hear. But it was A’whora. The little idiot who could brighten her day with a smile, the one who she bounced off of better than anyone. The person she would trust with her life. She couldn’t stop the way her heart pounded at the littlest affections between them.

So why should she?

“Cool it, lass, I know you love me.”

“Maybe so, wouldn’t you like that”

“Yeah. I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Aurora…” Tayce melted at the hopeful eyes staring at her. They broke through any walls she had left. She couldn’t find the words. She loved A’whora but saying it was something else entirely. So she showed it, pulling her in for a longer kiss.

A’whora felt all her feelings without the need for words. It was told through actions, the way Tayce’s hand ran through her hair, before circling to her jaw to stroke it softly, angling her into a deeper kiss. Her love was in the way their foreheads stayed pressed together as they fell apart. The shine in her eyes as her face lit up in an unconscious smile.

The way she let go, letting her love flow into everything and not trying to hide it.

“I love you too, Tayce.”

That was it, those were the words she’d wanted to hear for so long. It was a wave of warmth and euphoria that she never wanted to stop feeling.

“Come on, I love sitting here with you but I’m hungry and I think it’s time for beans on toast.”

Tayce finally moved, hanging her legs over the edge of the bed. If she didn’t attempt to move now they never would. Though she would come back later to cuddle up with A’whora for as long as she could, eating was important too.

“You’re insatiable! It’s always beans on toast with you.”

“If you act like that you won’t be getting any.”

With that, Tayce stood up and started walking to the kitchen only to be stopped by a sudden weight leant onto her back. A’whora laid her head on her shoulder with a content sigh.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The quick response surprised both of them. Tayce hadn’t expected it to come out so soon, it would still be time until she could say it with the ease A’whora did, but that was fine.

A’whora loved her, that was all she ever needed.

[mami-koppe]

Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

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

It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

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

He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

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

Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

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

He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

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

This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

[thehollowprince]

Context is Everything, Pt. 2

Or... "Have You Actually Watched The Show?"

Pt. 1, with excellent additions by @camelotpark and @princeescaluswords can be found here.

As anyone who follows me knows, I've been particularly active when it comes to defending Scott McCall on Teen Wolf recently, because we've had a lot of anons (one anon on repeat) harassing us. It made me more familiar with those who are just hellbent on taking Scott and casting him in the absolute worst possible light at every opportunity.

As such, occasionally, I'll find myself venturing behind enemy lines to see what nonsense they're spouting now out of a sense of morbid curiosity.

And boy did I find some doozies this time around.

For example:

This is why this post is titled Context, because its something that these people conveniently leave out when they try to woobify certain characters and demonize others.

Take this one - every line written down there is taken out-of-context. If people actually watched the show, they'd know that Derek was living in the burned out shell of his family home by his own choice. We found out later that he had a hell of a lot of money, enough to by entire building. Hell, there were even clues before that, in the fact that he drove around in an expensive muscle car and clearly had enough cash to replace a shattered window on said car in a relatively short period of time. Derek lived in squalor (first the mansion and then the train station) by choice, which is entirely apparent if one would just watch the show.

And then there's the attempt to deflect by bringing up Derek's trauma, hoping that people won't pay attention to all the horrible things Derek did in the first two seasons. These people straight up switch the definitions of Excuse and Explain in an attempt to make Derek's actions, particularly toward Scott and Stiles seem either not that bad, or weirdly enough, romantic (in the case of Stiles). They like to pretend that the horrible things that Derek went through (which explain his behavior) give him free reign to do whatever he wants, particularly when it comes to assaulting Scott (them trying to excuse his behavior.)

They wave Derek's trauma, being sexually assaulted and manipulated by Kate Argent who used him so that she could murder his family as an excuse for him to assault teenagers new to this world, breaking-and-entering, attempted murder (more than once) and actual murder. This is even more disturbing when you remember that the same people who love to troy out what Kate did to him when he was a teenager love to ship Derek as an adult with Stiles, who is a teenager. The irony is so thick you could choke on it.

Derek may have had one of the most fulfilling arcs on this show, but just because he finally stopped trying so hard to be something he wasn't and learned to let go, doesn't absolve him of the things he did in earlier seasons. Was he a hero by the end of the show? Yes, but he wasn't always. His first two seasons were him being one of the antagonists to being more akin to an actual villain (not the main villain, but still a villain - or anti-villain) in the second season.

And then we have this gem:

Once again, every aspect of context from the show is removed from these sentences to make Scott look like the worst thing since the plague.

Without context this just paints Scott as some warmongering asshole who goes around picking up random teenager shapeshifters and inducting them into his personal war.

With context, we know that Scott saved that kid, Alec, from Tamora and her hunters after they'd already killed all of his friends/pack. Scott didn't just pick Alec and say "hey, you're a werewolf and these hunters are after you so you have to join me or else." He invited Alec to join them in stopping the hunters with full knowledge of what he would be getting into. Not at all Derek's recruitment of Isaac, Erica and Boyd, where he preyed on them at their most vulnerable and gave them the most vague idea of what they'd be getting into. You need further proof of that? How about the fact that Derek's whole pack left him because they didn't sign up to be foot soldiers in his personal vendetta. Erica and Boyd straight up left after saying that Derek lied to them about what they'd be getting into and Isaac went and joined Scott's pack, because Scott actually cared about those in his pack.

Scott never asked any of his friends, his pack, to fight for him. Hell, in season four, during the whole deadpool hitlist plot, when Liam was too scared to get involved any more, Scott reassured him that it was okay and that he didn't think any less of him. And when Liam did get involved, that's because it was his choice. Scott didn't order him to fight, Liam chose to because it was the right thing to do. This is in direct contrast to Derek ordering his betas to kill Lydia on nothing more than his own suspicions and lack of knowledge about his own world.

Its also another blatant use of their double-standards when it comes to Scott. For the entire run of the show, these people have complained ad nauseum about how Scott didn't do anything. He was too nice and let the villains off without any consequences (he didn't, but they don't care about that), and yet here, in the finale, we have him finally taking the fight to the people coming after him, and suddenly its a bad thing.

Am I the only one that's confused by that logic?

What makes it worse is the fact that they're comparing Scott and Derek at two very different points in their lives and trying to paint Scott as comparable to Derek at his worst (kudos to them for admitting Derek was bad). Once again, with context, we know that the two situations are completely different, no matter how similar they may look. Derek went actively recruiting child soldiers, turning them into werewolves to fight in his war against Gerard and the hunters. Scott only ever bit two people, and one of them was an accident. Everyone that joined his fight was already a werewolf (or shapeshifter of some kind). Scott didn't turn any of them. He found Alec (and I'm assuming others) and offered him the chance to fight back against people who were actively hunting him. Isaac, Erica and Boyd weren't in any danger from the hunters until after Derek recruited them. On the surface, these two situations look very similar, but with context, they're not even remotely the same.

Context is everything. Without it, people can make whatever statement they like, but it doesn't change the truth of what actually happened. All it takes is for someone to actually watch the show to see how things actually went down.

[monochrome-monarch]

I made a promise that I intend to keep

Okay, so my friend @flamingkingoftheskies and I were discussing some good angst for Atlantis Days (fun fact: it was the first thing we discussed lol) and well, it's Rodorah-centric because clearly the ship doesn't have enough angst in it lol (but don't worry, we have also discussed some fluff and shitposts for it, which I'll spill in a future post).

You know how I mentioned that the Triplets remembered that they were planet conquerors and that they decided to go back to being conquerers, starting with Earth? Well, They also decided 'Hey, before we kill our now ex-friend Gojira and be the new alpha, why don't we ask Rodan to be our Beta?' Because, well, Rodan and Ghidorah are mates at this point and have children of their own. So yeah, makes sense to them that their beautiful and wonderful mate would be their Beta.

Except the thing is is that Rodan is definitely not up for murdering his best friend and Alpha and taking over the Earth for obvious reasons. Hell, he's pretty disgusted that Ghids is totally on board with murdering their best friend ("Did he mean nothing to you three!?"). Rodan tries to talk them out of it but the triplets are also trying to talk him into joining them. It goes downhill from there. Like, really downhill from there.

Okay, so basing the next scene off of these two posts by @ckret2, one of the things Ghidorah has remembered from their past is that they can apparently control people using their voice. Well, in the past, mostly roars but they can use it with their regular(?) voice. Sure, it's been a long, long time since they have used it but when dealing with Rodan, who is getting more and more agitated (and scared? They hope he isn't), it's worth the shot, right?

So, Ichi decides to use it on Rodan, Ni and San deciding to butt out for now unless Ichi could use some help. It goes smoothly, sure Rodan was getting a feeling that something was off but he starting to agree with Ichi. Yeah, taking over Earth sounds like a great idea. Yeah, he'll definitely be their Beta and they can rule together. Yeah, he's definitely up for killing Gojira and - Wait, what?

So yeah, Rodan suceeds in a wisdom saving throw or something and snaps out of it. Maybe mentioning on murdering the Alpha aka your mate's best friend wasn't such a good idea when you're trying to get your mate to join you at the Dark Side. And now said mate knows that not only do you conquer, and sometimes destroy but that doesn't happen that much, planets and want to murder his best friend but you and your brothers can apparently also mind control him and you did just that. It is certainly not helping your case.

When Rodan snapped out of it, he made a nearby volcano erupt out of sheer rage and fear which did get a lot of attention from humans and neighboring titans. So yeah, everyone's wondering what the hell is going on but well, seeing as Rodan is a disaster, they all collectively thought, "Oh, what did he do this time?" All except his friends, most especially Goji who is considering on going to check on Rodan, and Ghidorah by extension, since, clearly, something ain't right. And well, yeah, by the time Goji got to Isla de Mara, the argument had evolved into an aerial brawl, and not the fun kind, since the triplets had given up on convincing Rodan to join them but Rodan wasn't going to let them go off and kill Goji so cue Rodan attacking them.

To an outsider, they just look like they're rough housing but to someone that knows them well like Goji, it's clearly a serious fight and Goji rushes in to mediate, totally oblivious to the fact that the triplets want him dead. So, imagine the look on Goji's face when the triplets suddenly attack him, murderous looks on their faces. Luckily, Rodan is quick and immediately defends his Alpha so he can get over the shock and fight back. I'm not sure if sensing dumbassery is her sixth sense or Goji called her before confronting them but Mothra arrives to help. Rodan also fills them in on what's going on and yeah, Goji coming over was a terrible idea. Also, now it's 3 against 3 but it's still difficult as the Triplets had many years of asskicking and planet destroying experience.

So, shit gets so bad that a retreat was needed, hell Mosu had the most injuries. To buy them time to escape, Rodan stays behind and continues to fight his mates despite being clearly outmatched. It ends in Rodan losing horribly via getting shot down with a gravity blast from all three of them. Like, so bad his wings got badly damaged and maybe his volcanic armor is cracked and bleeding. If you're wondering how bad, we made some guesses as to how bad:

The orange/yellow marks are former holes and tears that got repaired by the magma

You're probably wondering: "Oh come on, Rodan and Goji were fine in the film when they got blasted" and I will say

1) Meh, just for angst

2) Goji and Rodan are two different species but I will admit that, yes, Rodan would've been able to deal with it better because he's made of volcanic rock but see number 1

3) In the film, Rodan was only hit by one blast. Here, it's three. Both at point blank.

But mostly, it's option one. Oh, don't give me that look.

So yeah, after having defeated their mate and thought to have killed him, the Triplets push back their pain and regret and set off to find Goji and Mosu, who are at Atlantis and trying to get the Atlanteans to evacuate with Anguirus helping them. Ghidorah attacks, Atlantis sinks with Anguirus dying there (maybe) and fight ends up being taken to Antartica. The triplets end up getting sealed and trapped under the ice and I'm considering having Mothra die, which explains her first appearance in KOTM. Either way, Goji is able to secure his position as Alpha but ends up losing four friends and a mate except mate will come back who knows when and three of said friends aren't exactly his friends anymore. Still really devastated, though

He goes back to Isla de Mara, hoping that Rodan is still alive and yeah, he is but seriously wounded. They chat for a bit as Goji carries Rodan up the volcano, he also tells him what happened, especially to Mothra, Anguirus and Ghidorah. Rodan is of course upset but knows it had to be done however, he still feels guilty about Mothra and Anguirus. They arrive at the peak, Rodan's children running up to him and Goji. They saw the fight. They watched their sires blast their carrier out of the sky. They thought he was dead - Rodan and Gojira try their best to calm the children. He'll be fine. He just needs to rest and recover and everything will be alright. They promise to the little ones.

Before Goji puts him inside his volcano to heal, Rodan tells him where Dagon's egg is located since he and the former Alpha had hidden the egg somewhere secret before Dagon died from his injuries.

"Promise me that you'll take good care of the kid?"

"I promise."

And Godzilla carefully places Rodan in the magma to heal. Rodan then goes into hibernation. After bidding the children goodbye, Goji then goes off to find the egg and does find it. He tries raising it alongside his son and tries his best before the Mass Hibernation started.

Millions of years later, Goji wakes up to a bunch of shattered eggshells and faded footprints indicating that the egg had hatched while he slept, his son, now full grown, still sleeping and also, the humans are noisy but also advanced. Still annoying, though. Oh, and they blow things up now. . . Great. Years later, he has to deal but eventually kill two rivals, descendents of his predecessor's killer. Five years later, his three former friends come back and well,

Millions of years later, Mothra hatches to, instead of adoring and loyal followers, strangely armored humans pointing weapons at her. One fires at her and well, just because Mothra is a child at the moment doesn't mean she can't kick ass. Sure, she does calm down upon hearing her mate's ever so familiar and comforting call but she ends up escaping when shit goes down, when dangerous humans enter and begin to kill everyone around her. Then when shit gets even worse when her three former friends come back and well, it's definitely ass-kicking time. Well, she needs to lay an egg first and then it's ass-kicking time.

Millions of years later, the triplets are rudely awaken to an explosion that frees them and the pests wearing weird armor and wielding weird weapons (San wants one of those rifle things though). It's a shame those weapons don't work on them but even then again, What is a human weapon to a gravity beam? Then their archenemy appears and well, while they manage to overpower him, which honestly proves their point on how weak he is, they decide to escape. Then as they fly away from their prison, they hear a roar, a familiar roar that they thought they will never hear again. Maybe. . . Maybe they can try again. They can be together again. They can rule this planet together, as Alpha and Beta. Hopefully. . . Then their beloved mate attacks them.

Millions of years later, Rodan wakes up to what sounds like an Alpha call, his now adult children still asleep and his volcano modified with metal and advanced technology. Not that he cares on the latter part. He wants out. And so he does and he's greeted by his patron city now looking very different and strange birds flying and blasting at him. Rodan isn't pleased with the things hitting him and reopening some minor wounds on his recently healed wings so, Rodan decides to teach some pests a lesson on how aggravating a titan is a terrible idea - Then he sees them. Deep inside, he wants to be happy to see them. It's been so long after all. But he remembers what happened. He remembers the fight. He remembers how they just attempted to murder their friends without a care about their history. He remembers the pain. Then with an enraged roar, he forgets his prey and lunges at his traitorous mates.

---

Okay, I just finally finished writing this and holy shit, this was longer and way more than I expected. Like, I was just going to tell you guys some Rodorah angst but well, never dang. Here's some more stuff about Atlantis Days, I guess.

Also, pretty sure I didnt do a good job explaining but meh.

Though, I might edit this in the future, in case I get more ideas or change my mind or something.

Edit: Wording

[bestwishes86]

One step back - Wolf Creek Snippet

“David I need you now. Meet me at the beach” the text had read.  

David steps out onto the gray sand of Wolf Creek beach with his gun at the ready. After everything he had seen and been through this year he rarely left the house without it.  The darkness of the night made the quiet beach feel menacing. He looked left and then right, his flannel shirt and hooded blue denim jacket kept the frigid breezes at bay. He continues off to the left feeling and smelling the acrid fear and nervousness.  His senses led him to a man fidgeting and looking at the waves that churned off the beach. 

Lowering his gun as he recognizes Jon's broad shoulders, his wild dark hair, the curve of his ass in a pair of cargo shorts.  His own anxiety was spiking at the sight of his usually concealed tattoos that ran the length of his body out for anyone to see. A breeze caused the unbuttoned crisp collared shirt to flap in the wind and he saw there was nothing beneath but more pale skin and those tattoos. 

Jon turned and smiled at him, David tilted his head as he holstered his gun.  Jon's smile was a sad one, his beard thicker than usual. He saw the bags under those ocean blue eyes. David felt his own heart beat with concern as he spoke.

"What are you afraid of? Are you in some kind of trouble?" David asked, his voice soft as he took a step toward Jon who took a step back in the same moment. David realized the person Jon is afraid of is him. 

"I want to say something and if I don't say it now I never will." Jon said slowly, his eyes on his bare feet. David waited, his own fears bashing against his feelings but he refused to give in to his own mounting tension.  They had met secretly for four months. Hooking up anywhere they could find, which in a small town didn't leave that many options. David admitted he was the one at fault, he'd never been with a man before Jon. His anxiety over anyone knowing what he was up to had caused Jon to change how he did things. Were they ending this, whatever this is?

"I know we aren't dating, we argue constantly, we pick at each other. But when you needed me I was there for you. I'm always here for you. And you…you saved my life twice. Can you tell me, do I matter to you at all?" Jon asked in a small voice that if David didn't have werewolf hearing he would of missed it to the wind. David took another step forward and Jon backed away from him again. 

"I'm sorry. I should of …" David started and Jon's head snapped up then. 

"You're always sorry David! I get it. You're the town's watchdog you and the other wolves go out and risk your lives. But they go home to their wives, hell Prem has Vincent. But you, you meet me at a hotel. We meet here, you fuck me, then you leave. When do I get to be home to you?" Jon shouted and his tears fell into a breeze that whipped past them.  David struggled to find the words to express the mess inside his head. He knew he was fucking this up, he knew Jon was slipping through his hands. 

He remembered the day his father had caught him with Harry Jenkins. The way his father had slammed his face into a wall, the unbuckling of his belt, and the stinging pain of the leather cracking across his skin over and over. He had buried Charlie Donnelly two years ago now. But it felt like Charlie was there beside him calling him a queer, a fag.  They stood staring at one another, Jon searching David's face for any sign of something positive. David looked away from him in shame.

"Its fine, I get it now. You answered my question," Jon spoke as he wiped his eyes and David made a face, he bit his lip and closed and opened his hands. Inside him his wolf was growling, his hackles up not at Jon but at him. It was his fear that caused him to hold back. To hide what he was feeling, every time Jon left first he had to fight himself not to pull him back. To say "I love you".

David took a step towards Jon and Jon took a step back. A low growl rumbled through David. It was the wolf, it was him. They were angry at the distance. The gold glow of the Beta Wolf in David caused Jon's eyes to widen in confusion and fear. 

"Stop...running from me. Now," David growled out and Jon saw the fangs jutting between his teeth. 

"I know, this is all my fault. I'm the scared one, not you. I've never done any of what we do with another man and it terrifies me. But right now all I want is for you to give me a chance to show you, that I...that you matter to me." David growled out, grateful to the wolf inside him for giving him the courage to speak. He almost said he loved Jon and he knew he did but he was afraid, that Jon didn't feel that strongly about him. Baby steps, he told himself he could feel Jon's feelings from having stabbed him with his claws before to allow Jon to use the wolf magic. But he didn't feel love now though their bond. Just sadness and fear and something that hadn't been there before.

Jon felt hope, and David felt it to.

"Can I hug you, I'm sorry I know you hate sappy shit like that but i," whatever else Jon was going to say was lost in David's chest as David moved so fast Jon missed it til he was in David's arms. They stayed like that for a while, feeling each other's warmth. David breathing in Jon's scent. Until Jon felt wetness on his cheek and in his hair. He pulled back a bit and saw that David was silently sobbing. Jon didn't speak but hugged David tighter and tried to take in whatever had caused those tears, whatever sadness existed inside David. Jon wanted to take it away. 

This was inspired by the Sufjan Steven's songs

-mystery of love

-futile devices

-vision of gideon

[peachblossomss]

Hearth— a Naruto fanfic

Link to FF.net:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13035782/1/Hearth

Post-war SasuSaku /short story/ a way to get me back into writing

I don't own Naruto

rated M most likely

One- Introduction

Saku

"Sasuke...?!"

"Sakura. I need a place to stay." was certainly not what I expected Sasuke Uchiha to say when I opened the door this bright, Sunday morning. Alas, he surprised me. Sasuke Uchiha, at my door...after all this time? I couldn't breathe. My voice didn't work properly, and I couldn't help but get ensnared by the way the sun illuminated him, almost like he was a saint. As if. His surprisingly timid, yet annoyed voice snapped me out of my trance. In flesh and blood, standing on my front steps, was Sasuke Uchiha- and he had something to ask me. "Sakura…? I need a place to stay. Can I stay here? Naruto mentioned once that you have an extra room for guests…" Sasuke trailed off, sounding unsure and with a slight blush darkening his cheeks. There was no way he could avoid the look of disbelief on my face. What. The. Fuck. What I thought would be a calm, semi-lazy (as I had training and a lunch date with Naruto in the afternoon) Sunday, was certainly going to be a bit more...interesting.

"Hello to you too, Sasuke. I've been fine! Thank you so much for asking." I snapped. He had been gone for months on his journey. Granted, it was his journey of redemption, which I completely 100% understand his need to go on. My only issue is that he never sent me a message. Not once. And he has the NERVE to show up on my doorstep at 8am on a Sunday, the ONLY Sunday I have off from work this month? The only Sunday I can sleep in on. "I mean, you've been gone for what, 5 months without contacting me, and show up on my doorstep asking for a place to crash?! Why don't you go stay with Naruto, or Kakashi even? You clearly kept in contact with them more than me, despite...despite…"/Before he left on his journey the two grew close to one another. He would randomly pick her up from her graveyard shifts at the hospital, or he would show up unannounced at her small and homey apartment with her favorite foods, somehow knowing when she'd have had a bad day. Sasuke admitted that she is his most precious person. They spent the night before he left together. Not sexually, though. They stayed up late- laughing, crying (mostly only Sakura, but Sasuke let tears form in his eyes, and that was him crying in her book), and talking about everything and nothing... soaking each other in, almost like they were lovers and best friends. Sakura had known something was going to change./ I couldn't say it. I didn't want to throw his uncharacteristic vulnerability back in his face, months after the fact.

"Despite what, Sakura? Do you care to elaborate?" he asked sharply, that earlier apprehensiveness and embarrassment long gone.

"Well, despite the fact that we uh, you know, spentalotoftimetogetheranditmeantalot to me…" I whispered embarrassedly. I could feel the blush heating my cheeks. I couldn't look him in the eyes. Although I am usually extremely open with my feelings, I've learned it's best to keep my love for Sasuke to myself. He never was quite comfortable with my outright confessions.

/Sakura would keep her deep love for Sasuke hidden, as to not scare him away. She knew he had to atone for his sins, make his path pure once again, and also keep his precious people and all of Konoha safe. She knew she would be nothing more than a friend. She was simply one of his only family members, just like Naruto, Kakashi, and even Sai. She would support him on his voyage of redemption./

"Sakura," He sighed, running his hand down his face, covering a slight smirk "I only sent Kakashi messages, Naruto somehow coaxed Kakashi into telling him my whereabouts, I assume he used the Icha Icha books as leverage...although the dobe isn't that cunning alone...anyway, he sent me letters. Kakashi doesn't even know I'm home yet."

Without listening, I protested. "You knew where I liv-" I stopped short. Home...he said he's home. He said he's home and I'm the first person he's seen. Out of everyone, even our Hokage and former Sensei, Kakashi. I tried to fight the shy smile that was threatening to dissipate my angry demeanor. After months of being away, my house is the first place he's visited. I know I'm reading into things, since he appears in need of a shower or two, a hot meal, and a good nights sleep on a cozy bed. He knows I have it all on hand. He also knows I would never turn him down. It doesn't matter, though. He's using me, and I'll let him, as long as I get to spend time with him. It's worth it, and it always is. Anyway, he is my teammate, and that’s what friends are for, right? To help one another in times of need. I sighed, rolling my eyes. "You can stay, I guess. Let me show you to your room."

Sasu

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, what am I doing? It was too late to back out, I already knocked on her door. Fuck. She's home, and she's going to answer the door. It's been 156 days since I left Konoha. 156 days since I've seen her weightless pink hair and her kind, yet determined green eyes. 156 days since I've used an actual shower...fuck me. It has also been 156 days since I left Sakura at the gates to Konoha with a poke on her forehead and a promise. A promise I have no clue how to keep. A promise i will try to keep. I need to make everything right. /Sasuke left her with a promise. He said he'd be back, and next time he left, she would leave with him. She asked if she could come with, she wanted to be there for him, frustratingly enough, she somehow knew he needed assurance that he never had to be alone again. He declined her, saying his sins had nothing to do with her...at this time. Afterall, he did try to kill her./ First, though, I need a goddamn shower, and I need to see her. Why do I need to see her? Why is it that this annoyingly stubborn, smart, brave, eternally kind, girl, no...woman, is constantly on my mind? I can't stop pacing the porch as I wait for her to answer the door. What is taking so long? I knocked a whole 46 seconds ago, a kunoichi should be to the door within 20 seconds, 35 if she is sleeping. Maybe she IS sleeping…

"Sasuke…?!"

"Sakura.” I let out a breath I wasn’t even aware I was holding. “I need a place to stay."

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AN:

Hello all! It’s me, Peach! Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I’m kinda a lazy p.o.s sometimes. I’ve been having major writers block. This lol story is a way to get my creative juices flowing..I have no outline or anything, so this story is just coming out as I come up with it. I don’t have a beta or anyone to read over my work, so I’m sorry if it’s confusing. Don’t worry! There will be more of Sasukes views in the upcoming chapters. ;) please review!

As always, much love!!

-peach