#ignore the fact that the word twink also has no “end”

[queerslurheritageposts]

Twinks Temporary

Faggots Forever

(im kidding i love both those words)

[ID: a screenshot of a meme which starts with a list of words- friend, girlfriend, boy friend, and best friend, each with the END part of the word underlined. beneath the list it reads "only FAGGOT has no end". end ID.]

[galacticgraffiti]

❁ Sugar (I've developed a taste for you) ❁

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: Astarion asks for a favour and ends up getting more than what he bargained for (or: I'm a lesbian but this fictional little vampire twink can get it)

Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut) Wordcount: 2.4k Descriptors: I try to keep my reader-inserts fairly neutral, but let me know if anything slips through the cracks! Astarion is his usual self, pathetic and awful yet somehow also lovable as fuck. CW: bad flirting, friends with benefits (and the benefit is bloodsucking lol), blood, blood drinking, biting, hint of praise kink, eventual proper smut, nicknames, so much innuendo

✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

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Chapter 1: My my, those eyes like fire

He could be lovely if he wasn’t so self-involved.

That is the first thought you have when you meet Astarion. He is not downright mean, but something about him just bugs you. He flirts with every creature on two legs (sometimes even those with more), but that’s not it.

Something about all his honeyed words just feels so… insincere. 

You think Astarion has something to hide, and you desperately want to know what it is. So far, he has shown no signs of weakness, and he is as much as self-entitled twat as when you first met him. And this continues to be your opinion of him… up until today.

The day has been hard. Your feet hurt, your hands have blisters, and you are smeared with blood pretty much all over. Your shirt has been ripped and frankly, you don’t know when you might find the time to mend it. There is a giant bloodstain on the thigh of your trousers, and you are pretty sure your hair has become completely encrusted in blood quite some time ago.

But you have made it back to camp and that is all that counts.

As you shake out your bedroll and try to ignore the fact that this is the seventh night in a row that you’ll have had bland stew for dinner, you catch Astarion’s eyes across the fire.

His gaze is… odd.

You have seen him in the heat of battle, you’ve seen the glint in his eye when he comes up with another of his devious plans. You’ve even seen him amused, shaking with laughter when Gale recited an - admittedly very ambiguous - poem to you.

But you have never seen him like this. It’s not affection, nor is it desire that lights up his delicate features. He almost looks… desperate. Like he is starving for something, and you can’t place your finger on what it is.

As soon as Astarion notices that you have caught him, his eyes flick away. He saunters off, way too casual to not be obvious about it.

You stare after him, vaguely confused. But then, Karlach makes her way over to ask for more stew, and you forget all about it. For the moment.

Her smile makes your belly flutter, and you wish you knew more about her, and so you do your best to make conversation, joking and asking shallow questions.

Astarion’s eyes haunt you through dinner.

Even though the day was exhausting, the nights in your little camp are starting to grow on you. Gale is funny in his own, book-wormish way. You have learned that Karlach is downright hilarious in her joy about the world outside of Avernus, and Wyll is always scandalised by her, which is admittedly quite fun to watch. Lae’zel and Shadowheart keep to themselves a bit more, but even they share the meals with the rest of you.

You laugh when Karlach imitates Wyll’s horrified expression, but in spite of yourself. your eyes keep wandering to the silver hair of your elven companion who is sitting across from you.

Astarion is staring at you again, his eyes focused on some point below your jaw. He is watching you intently, seemingly unaware you have caught him. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away - he just stares at you as your spoon scrapes along the bottom of your bowl.

Only when you get up to wash off before you go to bed does he move again.

Sometimes, Astarion reminds you of a scared animal in the way he moves, his eyes flicking back and forth, his hands trembling slightly whenever he is not in battle. He hides right out in the open, behind his swagger and his dirty jokes and innuendos, behind his beautiful face and his beautiful body.

Tonight, though, even in all his desperation, Astarion is not prey. He is a predator. And like any talented predator, he has managed to get his prey away from the protection of the group.

You are kneeling in the small stream that runs by the camp, washing your bowl, your clothes, yourself - everything is dirty and soaked in mud, sweat and blood. You are barely wearing anything, but your companions have seen you in much more precarious situations at this point.

Astarion approaches quietly, sneaking up on you in that manner where you can never tell whether it is intentional or not. He is just… there, suddenly, shedding his clothes next to you, blood still smeared on his pale skin.

He stops short of the water, watching you from the riverbank. You try not to gawk as he undresses, but something about him seems unusually anxious. The way he pushes hit foot forward so slowly, testing the water, makes you wonder if he might not know how to swim.

Astarion smiles suddenly, taking a step into the stream and towards you, then another, his smile growing the deeper he wades into the water. Dark red streaks appear in the water where the blood is washed from his pale skin.

He clears his throat and raises a sharp brow.

“And how are you feeling tonight, sweet thing?” he inquires. His eyes flick over your body, focusing on a point below your ear for a moment before he rips his gaze away again.

“‘M alright,” you answer, brow furrowed as you scrub your shirt a little harder than you actually need to. Why he has to be so infuriating with his nicknames, you’ll never know. “Today was… a lot. I wanted to have a quiet moment.”

“Ah.”

He doesn’t seem to get the hint. He merely wades further into the stream, shimmering pearls of water running down his back. When you don’t say anything else, he turns to face you once again.

“Are you not going to ask me how I am, darling?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you mumble, throwing your shirt to the side, Clearly, you’re not getting anywhere with it tonight.

“Tsk, so rude. Somebody should really teach you some manners.” He clicks his tongue at you like you are an insubordinate child, shaking his head until droplets hit you.

You press your lips together. If he wasn’t so beautiful, he wouldn’t get away with half the things he does, and it frustrates you to no end. You catch yourself forgiving him on occasions where you don’t mean to, simply because his face is the prettiest things you have ever seen, and you hate it.

Astarion watches you carefully, gauging your mood. You stare back at him defiantly. What the hell could he want from you, anyway?

The hunger in his eyes is back, you notice - that desperation that you can’t quite place. There is a pained expression around his mouth, and despite all his cockiness, he is clearly not doing entirely well - his skin even paler than usual, his hands shaking a little when he crosses his arms.

Astarion yawns, his gaze raking over you in a way that makes you shiver. You tell yourself it’s just the cold of the water.

“Well, I was going to ask you for your help, but you are in a terrible mood.” He inspects his fingernails, and even though you know exactly that he is baiting you, you can’t help yourself.

“You? Need my help? Never thought the day would come.” Your voice is biting, but you can’t hide the note of curiosity that sneaks in.

“Don’t make me out to be such a horrible companion.” Astarion takes a step closer to you through the water. You take a step back. He laughs, but his eyes catch on your neck again. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

You shrug.

“Sometimes you are.”

“Hm.” He raises his brows, and takes another step towards you. This time, you don’t step back. “Well, I suppose that can’t be helped, my love. We all have good and bad days, don’t we?” He cocks his head. “And today has been quite hard for me.”

You make a non-committal noise, staring him down. What in the hells is he trying to do? Seduce you?

Your body likes that thought much more than your mind does.

Astarion is watching you intently. He stretches out his hand to take yours, and in your surprise, you don’t even pull back. His thumb rests right against the delicate inside of your wrist, and he closes his eyes.

You wait for him to drone on about how he carried your group on the battlefield, to gloat that you now owe him your life seven times over, but he doesn’t. Astarion stays eerily still, breathing deeply as his thumb strokes your wrist, pressing against your pulse point.

You can’t keep quiet any longer, not with the odd way he is behaving. Maybe he got hit by a spell, or…

“Any reason today was particularly hard for you?” You meant to sound sarcastic, but the question comes out sounding sincere. You scold yourself for caring so much.

Your skin burns like fire where he is touching you. Astarion’s eyes open, and he looks at you like he was a million miles away. He is so close now - much closer than you realised. You can see the fiery ring around his irises.

“I…” To your surprise, his voice is hesitant and quiet. “It’s easier to just… show you. You see, I need something from you, my darling.”

You frown.

“Why ask me? You could ask any of us, and most of them would be more inclined to help than I am. I’ve seen the way that Gale watches you at the fire-”

“Gale?” Astarion sounds genuinely amused. “Darling, do you think I’m asking you for sexual favours right now?”

“I- yes?” Your voice is full of uncertainty. “I mean… is that not what you were going to say?”

Astarion smiles, small and sharp.

“No.” He is even closer to you now, his thumb still caressing the skin of your wrist. “Even though I would not be disinclined if you offered… you are quite beautiful, you know?”

“Mh. Thank you?” You wish your heart would not beat faster at the way he looks at you. It’s a look that doesn’t fit the words that fall from his lips, a look that betrays the desperation with which he needs this favour. “What-”

“What I am asking for is simple.” He is so close now he could kiss you if you leaned in. “All I want is… a taste.”

“I- what?”

His lips are on your neck, his hand in your hair. You are not quite sure when that happened.

“Say yes, sweet thing,” he breathes. “Just a taste of your blood and-”

“My blood?” You sound more distraught than you actually feel. You are… oddly resigned. You should have seen this coming - you knew something was up with him, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

And now, here you are. With a fucking vampire. His lips graze your pulse point, and your heart beats faster. You can feel the heat of his breath when he utters a single word.

“Please.”

It’s that one word that changes everything. Just like that, he has you. All the arrogance, all the superiority is gone from his voice, and what is left is just hunger and the fear that you might reject him. For a moment, you are sure you must have imagined it, but then, Astarion repeats himself.

“Please.” His hand tightens around your wrist, though he is trembling more than you are. “Just a taste, no more.”

Your lips are numb when you answer, your mind screaming at you not to let him- this is dangerous, this is stupid- you have already lost so much blood in the fight today and-

“Yes.” Your hands are on his shoulders, then in his silver hair. He smells so good; even after this horrid day. Your voice is softer than you intend for it to be, but his desperation makes you weak. “If you need it, it’s yours.”

Astarion makes a sound that shatters you, and before you can think too much about your own colossal stupidity, his fangs sink into your neck. 

It’s not painful.

It’s uncomfortable, but the fear that bites into your heart ebbs after mere seconds. Astarion’s hands are surprisingly warm against you, keeping you upright. Your head falls to the side, granting him easier access and - oh.

Why does it feel so good?

You become acutely aware of your blood flowing from the small puncture wounds in your neck, and for a moment, you panic, stiffening in Astarion’s arms.

“There, there, sweet thing.” His lips don’t raise an inch from your neck. “It’s alright, just trust me. Just a taste, all I want is a taste…”

Your head is swimming.

“You have tasted me,” you whisper, trying to pull away. When you look into Astarion’s eyes, there is a red glint in them - and a sadness that overwhelms you.

“No taste of you will ever be enough.” Astarion looks up at you from beneath long lashes. “You are divine, my love.”

The tip of his tongue wets his lips, licking up the small droplets of blood that linger.

You stare at him, trying with all your might to focus.

“You said… just a taste. No more than you need.”

His finger traces your jaw, down your neck, and your whole body is on fire.

“If it were up to me, I would need all of you,” Astarion sighs, his lips on your neck again, his tongue lapping at the blood that flows from the wound he has given you. “I would take and take, and give you so much in return. I would have you in ways you did not even know you wanted. Taste everything you have to offer.”

You shiver when he raises your wrist to his mouth, soft lips pressing to delicate skin.

“I would cherish you, keep you. My little pet, so perfect, so beautiful in every way. So eager to give what I need. Would you give me more if I asked?”

“Of course,” your lips say even though those were not the words you were planning to utter. But how could you ever say no to him? “If that’s what you need.”

Astarion’s sigh is one of rapture and delight.

“So obedient for me… You know, all these days I thought you hated me.” He chuckles to himself. “I suppose even I can be wrong sometimes.”

His teeth sink back into your neck, and the world goes dark.

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>> Next Chapter

HELLO MY DOVES i finally found time to format this for tumblr so here you go, for those who are not in love with the bear, you can get the twink, as a treat.

@deewithani @ficsbynight @kote-wan @ariadnes-red-thread @rescuethewretched @twistedstitcher27 @kakashibabe02 @writingbylee @purgetrooperfox @basilbumble @witchklng @lackofhonor @ashotofspotchka @sailor-blossom @misogirl828 @amyroswell @darkjedipoptarts @pinkiemme @sleepingsun501 @fett-djarin @samanthacookieone @tortor-mcgee @corrabell @queen--kenobi @elegantduckturtle @felinaone @palpipeen @wild-karrde @obeydontstray @nomercyforthewarrior @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @thefact0rygirl @everythingyouwanted @equalityforcats @cagrame @ladykatakuri @snakerune @shadesofshatteredblue @100lxtters @damerondala @tachyon-girl @rintheemolion @pickleprickle @mando-amando @certified-anakinfucker @baba-fett @ulchabhangorm

[feralkwe]

I- 4; II- 5; III- 12

8D well then let's go shall we? lucky you, you get kit/elidibus. feel free to ignore any links. they're only there if anyone feels like having the context.

I - 4: did either of them try to resist their feelings?

they both did! out of a sense of obligation to their respective duties.

obviously kit went to elpis for pandaemonium with all the knowledge of the future and was understandably wary of elidibus. he was not what she expected, to say the least, even if she saw many parallels between him and the ascian she knew. his words to her before sos in shb finally made sense, as much as she did not want to believe them. but she was in a closed relationship back in the present, and knew that this affair was only ever going to end one way, so she resisted. that willpower quickly crumbled in the face of how enchanted they were with one another, and she did a lot of mental gymnastics to rationalize pursuing it.

without the context of the future, elidibus himself made... let's say a good college try of not acting on his quickly developing crush. he also knew it was only going to end in heartache. all the logic and reason at his disposal was not enough.

they were both aware of the consequences, but it did not stop them.

II - 5: what is their height difference? age difference? do either matter to them?

lmao kit is a full height female viera. elidibus is... not.

sometimes you're a gorgeous six foot two bun and you see a cute lil twink and ask "should i hit that?" and don't wait for an answer.

kit's actual age is young enough to get me canceled in some corners of the internet for her relationship with thancred and urianger, and the actual number is between me and my bun. that said, elidibus is noted to be young comparative to his peers, and i put them about the same relative age, given the near immortality of the ancients. both of them old enough to know better, but young enough to be inexperienced in love and any common sense regarding it.

i don't feel like either of these things matter to them. it sure didn't dissuade them in any part of their brief time together.

III - 12: who remembers the little things?

the thing about this ship that dug its claws into me and really keeps me in a choke hold is... neither. i'm a monster. i am absolutely feral over the fact that save that whirlwind affair between them, neither of them remembers at the same time. when he remembers, it hasn't actually happened yet in her life. When she finally knows, none of their tangled time as foes has happened to him yet. their knowledge of being in love marches off in separate directions. god i need to chew on something. get me a kong full of peanut butter, please.

however, after he returned to the aetherial sea, kit made it her duty to remember everything they had, good and bad, however short their joy was. she considers it part of the responsibility with which emet-selch charged her.

thanks so much for the ask! i know i promised you a full accounting of my shipping woes, so consider this installment the first!

ship meme here.

[xxwhiskeyxx]

Love Trope February!  Destined to be Together: Rain x Dewdrop

When Rain was first summoned, Dew had been assisting after he had been forcefully changed from Water to Fire and then they have the gaul to replace him with some tall twink (we ignore Sodo is in fact a twink) Rain tries to be nice to him, he feels a bond with the Gremlin and Sodo does too but he pushes away because he’s scared of the feeling. Sodo basically avoids Rain at all costs except for when he can’t like at practise and on tour. One day Rain corners him on the tour bus, he was tired of Sodo avoiding him for no reason when he knows he can feel the mate bond. What happens next?

3.9K words

Welcome back to the angst! Feel free to sob when you first start reading but it gets better, it's not too bad but Dew has intense feelings and they made me sad, no TWs in this once only implied smut at the end and some making out!

This one made me happy, but I had started it at midnight cause I spent 3 hours doing English homework and taking a test, so we dead.

The transformation forced onto Dew basically forced his Water side away almost completely, he only has retained a small bite in traits and he can still slightly control water if he really focuses.

Also Ifrit went back to the Pit in this fic, not for all, why? I don't know, Whiskey is tired and Whiskey wants bed

-Love Whiskey

When Sister Imperator had announced that they were summoning another Water ghoul tp replace Dewdrop, he was understandably pissed right the fuck off, “How fucking dare they? I am still right here, right after they forced me through that fucking ritual!” Dew snarls, pacing through the commons. Aether sighs as he watches his friend rant about how pissed off he is and how he’s gonna rip Nihil a new asshole when suddenly Mountain comes through the door.

“They said they want us to report to the summoning room within the next hour. They want to summon the new Water ghoul as soon as possible,” he says, glancing between the Quintessence and newly transformed Fire ghoul, he and Aether had taken it horribly when they learned that the Clergy had essentially kidnapped the little ghoul and forced Dew to basically reduce his Waterside to almost gone. When they learned about what had happened, Alpha and Omega were forced to lock the pair in one of the cells beneath the church that was typically reserved for feral newly summoned ghouls who haven’t had a chance to acclimate to the surface, otherwise, Sister and Nihil probably would have been torn to shred for hurting their packmate.

Dew huffs a big cloud of steam from his nose and his former gills; the vapor floats above his head before slowly disappearing. “Why the fuck do they need me? Why not have Alpha, an actual fucking Fire ghoul.” he snarls, crossing his arms, “They said that since your Water has been suppressed…you’re Fire is now strong enough to participate in a summoning.” Mountain says slowly, carefully approaching the angry Fire ghoul, “Oh, so they think because they forced a change on me that I’d be fucking willing to help them summon my replacement?!” Dew screams, steam now leaking from the slits of the former gills, “Calm down, Droplet, you know you can’t argue with Sister Imperator unless you want to be sent back, come here.” Aether says, beckoning the smaller male to come sit in his lap. “Fuck you, and I am perfectly calm.” Dew hisses, and Mountain sighs as he scoops up the hissing ghoul and carries him over to the couch, setting him in the largely built ghoul's lap, who quickly wraps his arms around the smaller to prevent him from squirming away as both he and Mountain fill him with calming energy.

It doesn’t take long for the fight to leave Dewdrop, slumping against Aether as tears take over for the anger. “Why do they have to do it today..it hasn’t even been a week since I recovered…” he sniffles, tears dripping down his face. Mountain and Aether feel their hearts break, “Oh, Little Comet, we’re not happy about it either. As much as we’d love to have another pack member, you’re still not completely healed, and we aren’t ready to welcome another ghoul in yet.” Aether says softly, rocking the little ghoul in his arms,  “I tried to reason with Sister by telling her that, but she just said that you would be fine, that we need to get another Water ghoul so we can have a bassist.” Mountain adds, holding a Dew's hand. “I just…their replacing me so fucking easily; you guys will probably forget about me since you’re going to have a new Water Lily..” Dew whispers, choking down a sob as he admits the thing that has been bugging him the most.

The two larger ghouls gasp lightly, looking at one another in shock before back at the crying male; Aether’s arm subconsciously tightens around him as Mountain kneels in front of the pair, “Dewdrop, look at me.” he says softly, gently coaxing the little ghoul to look at him as he grabs both of his hands, watery two-toned eyes meeting green, “We will never forget about you, you’re still our little Spitfire and you may not have as much Water anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were our first Water Lily, we might not even call them that anyways.” Mountain says, pressing a kiss to the bruised knuckles, Dew had been punching the walls of his room before Aether had found him and drug him to the common room. “You’re our little Gremlin no matter which element is strongest.” Aether whispers, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “We will never forget you, we love you, Dew, so fucking much.” he finishes.

Dew can’t help the sob that escapes his throat, tugging his hands from Mountain’s to cling to the Earth ghoul's uniform button-up, burying his face into his shoulder as he cries. The gentle giant simply wraps his arms around the ghoul, who feels somehow impossibly tiny, pressed between him and Aether, who follows suit and tightens his hold on Dew. They sit there for a long time, gently soothing the Fire ghoul until there is a knock on the door, Copia pokes his head in. They may not know the awkward Cardinal much, but they learned quickly that he truly was a kind soul, he had been furious when he learned what had happened with Dewdrop, even going as far as to scream at Sister Imperator for “How dare you to change one of my ghouls without my permission!”, this had earned the respect of the remaining band members, especially of the little now turned Fire ghoul who had surprised the Cardinal with a hug, to be fair he was slightly loopy on pain drugs but it was still a hug.

“Hello mio tesoros, it is time. I am truly sorry, Dewdrop. I’m sure Mountain told you how he tried to reason with Sister, I did as well, but she is insistent. If you wish, I can ask Alpha to participate instead.” he offers, wringing his hands nervously. “Th-” Dew cuts off Aether, “I’ll be okay. I wanna see who is gonna take over for me, gotta see if they’re gonna be good enough,” he says, a smirk on his face despite the tear tracks and red-rimmed eyes. Copia’s eyes soften at the sight, “Oh course, mio dolce ragazzo, I just thought to extend the offer. Now come along boys, we must welcome your new band member.” he says, smiling at the ghouls. Mountain stands and offers a hand to Dew, who takes it, tugging him from Aether who follows the pair as they leave the ghoul den.

The Summoning room is near the chapel where they hold Mass, about a 5-minute walk from the dens. The ghouls quietly make their way with Copia, Dew subtly hanging behind a bit to be able to hold Aether’s tail with his. Once they reach the door that leads to the small chamber, Copia holds the door open to allow the ghouls to enter first. Inside are Sister, Papa Primo, as he is the best when it comes to summonings, along with Mist and Zephyr, “Finally, I was about to send Omega to come to retrieve you, ghouls.” Sister tuts, a glare directed at the 4 newly joined members, “Apologies, Sister, we got caught up.” Mountain says, it’s not a lie, but Sister clicks her tongue, “Papa, are we ready to begin now.” she asks, Primo nods, “Yes, ghouls, please stand around in your spots, Dewdrop by Mountain, please.” he directs, the tallest ghoul shows the smaller where to stand around the chalked circle. Dew looks up at the Earth ghoul, who gives him a reassuring smile, ‘It’s going to be okay, this is the easiest type of summoning, and we don’t have to really do anything but stand here. Aether and Mist will take care of the Water ghoul.’ Mountain says in his mind through the link. Dew nods. Clenching his fists as Primo begins to chant.

Dew has never taken part in a summoning, only heard stories from Aether and Mountain, who had been there for him and a few others, usually Alpha stands in for the Fire element or Ifrit before he is sent back. Hence, as the circle begins to glow as Primo continues chanting, his eyes widen. He feels his hands heat up slightly, and he spots the other’s eyes glowing through their masks, Mountain said they don’t do anything, but it seems that the ritual uses their elements to aid in the summoning. Mist’s eyes are glowing so brightly that it almost lights up the room, possibly because they’re summoning a Water ghoul.

After a few more minutes, a lanky, thin body suddenly materializes into view. The smell of Petrichor, Summer Thunderstorms, Lotus, and Morning Dew fills Dew’s nose, it makes him feel dizzy but not enough to knock him off his feet, for some reason, just the smell of this new ghoul makes all of the anxiety and stress he had been feeling fade from his body. There is a low groan from the body in the middle of the circle; Aether and Mist slowly approach, the latter holding a thin blanket to cover the ghoul’s body until they can get them clothed. But before they can get too close, the ghoul’s eyes seem to focus on the two approaching figures, and they whimper, scrambling backward on shaky limbs. Their head whips around trying to find an escape when suddenly sharp sapphire meets burning magma and piercing ice, and it feels like something snaps into place. A knot forms in Dew’s belly, and all of sudden, all he can think of is protecting this new ghoul, who whimpers and scurries to the Fire ghoul, hiding behind him. Mountain stumbles back as the ghoul darts past him, partially because they scare him and also because he can tell they’re heading toward the hybrid.

Dew freezes when cold hands cling to his tail; everyone is staring at him, “D..do you know him, Dewdrop?” Mist asks; even though you can’t see her mouth, it’s clear it’s hanging open, “N…no, I’ve never seen him before.” Dew stammers, “Well, he seems to trust you for some reason. Can you please cover him and help Aether so he can check him.” Sister huffs, clearly pissed that the newly summoned ghoul seems to be so attached to the hot-headed hybrid as she turns and leaves, Primo and Copia following suit; the Cardinal will officially meet the new ghoul later. “Yes, Sister.” Dew mutters before carefully turning so he doesn’t startle the still frightened ghoul; kneeling down so their level and despite how he promised himself that he’d avoid this new ghoul at all costs, he speaks softly and calmly, “Hey, I’m Dewdrop, what’s your name huh?” he asks, the other ghoul is still clinging to his tail, big blue eyes staring up at him, “M..my name is Ra..Rain..” he stutters slightly, eyes darting behind Dew where he’s sure the other’s are hovering, though a few feet back, “These guys aren’t gonna hurt you, they just wanna make sure you’re okay.” he says, trying to soothe the shaking ghoul, who with a quick glance down, confirms that he is indeed a he, or at least appears to be. “The big guy is named Aether; he’s a Quintessence ghoul, he just wants to make sure you’re not injured or anything from the summoning or from the Pit.” he says as he beckons Aether to come closer.

Rain stares at the large male, fear in his eyes, but he seems to trust Dew enough that he believes he won’t hurt him, “Hi, I’m Aether, is it okay if I check you with my magick, please, I won’t touch you, and it might feel a little weird if you’re not used to Quintessence, but it won’t hurt.” he says as he crouches next to Dew, Rain’s eyes flick between the pair before nodding. Aether quickly scans him with his magic, seemingly healing a few cuts and scrapes from when he had been trying to scramble away, but other than that, he’s fine. Mist hands the blanket to Dew, who wraps it around the lithe ghoul, “It’s to keep you warm and covered till we get some clothes on you.” he mutters, wanting to get away from the ghoul so he can try and escape the weird feeling that’s filled his chest and belly.

As soon as Rain gets to his feet and seems to trust Aether enough to hold onto, Dew darts away, running out the door and back to his room. Throwing open the door and clamoring onto his bed, burying his face in the pillows and letting out a muffled yell, “What the actual fuck?!” he screams, punching the pillow. As much as he hated it, the feeling of being away from the new Water ghoul had made his stomach tie into a knot, and it felt like.. there was a part of him missing. After a few minutes, there’s a sudden knock on his door, but he doesn’t bother to answer, hoping whoever it is will go away, but the door opens anyway. “Dude, what the fuck? Why did you run like that?” Mountain asks, ducking under the threshold and coming to stand in the middle of the room, “I..I don’t fucking know man, it was too overwhelming, I don’t know what it is about that Water ghoul, but he’s got my fucking chest and stomach feeling all weird.” Dew says, muffled by the pillow his face is pressed against. Mountain is shocked, but now everything made sense, the way Rain had seemed to immediately trust Dew enough to hide behind him, the way Dew was immediately so soft with him, and the way Dew just described feeling; ‘Their fucking destined mates…’ he thinks, he internally groans as he sits next to the Fire ghoul, he knows it's too soon to tell Dew otherwise he’ll freak out, but they have to know soon or they’ll get sick.

“Dew, look at me please.” Mountain asks, smoothing a hand through silvery strands of hair. Dew stays still for a moment but begrudgingly rolls onto his side to look up at the Earth ghoul, “Rain seemed really upset with the way you ran, I don’t know what is going on with you two, but you need to say you’re sorry.” he states, giving the ghoul a look when he sneers. “I really don’t want to be near that little Water nymph anytime soon.” Dew snarks, Mountain growls, tugging his ear and earning a yelp from the hybrid, “Do not call him that; you’ll apologize and be civil with him, or you’ll not like what I do.” he says, tone deadly serious. Even though he hasn’t known the Water ghoul long, Earth and Water tend to go together like, well mud, an elemental match typically, and Mountain already feels protective over the new lanky ghoul. Dew gives a half-hearted snarl, but the serious look on the Earth ghoul's face makes it drop, “Fine, I’ll say sorry.” he mutters, “You can go back to him now, I’m sure you can’t wait to be with your new Water Lily.” Dew mumbles the last part, but Mountain still hears it.

Despite being a little irked at the hybrid's behavior, the words make his heartache, despite what had happened between the two in the summoning room, Dew’s earlier feelings are still prominent. With a sigh, he picks up the lithe male, who yelps, before laying down on the soft sheets and curling around him, “No, Aether and Mist are with him. I wanted to make sure you were okay, my Heliconia, I promised I would still look after you didn’t I?” he whispers into Dew’s ear, nipping at the pointed tip, earning a whimper. Mountain wraps his long arms around his packmate, who leans back into him.

The next day Dew apologizes to Rain, who had smiled brightly when he noticed the Fire ghoul approaching and accepted, saying he understood that it had been an awkward situation. But after that, Dew avoided the Water ghoul like he was the plague, only staying in the same room as him whenever they had practice and during meals. Despite the other two ghouls trying to make them talk, it was to no avail, the longest time they spent together besides during practice is when they summoned two new Air ghoulettes and a Multi named Swiss. Besides that, Dew was always quick to slip out of a room whenever Rain entered, this both made the Water ghoul sad and irritated the shit out of him, what the hell did he do? He had been nothing but kind to the hybrid, and yet he’s treated like shit, not to mention, he knows that their fated mates and he knows, or at least he thinks he does, that Dew does too. He has caught the Fire hybrid staring at him with an intense longing in his eyes; he’s even woken up on the couch, not enough to open his eyes yet, with the feeling of lips on his forehead, warm hands smoothing back his dark curls, and surrounded by the ghoul's scent of Burning Wood, Cinnamon, Moonshine Cherries, and just the slightest hint of the ocean, salty and like home.

Now they had been on tour for the last 2 weeks, Dew could not avoid Rain, but he did it the best he could, zooming off the bus whenever possible, hanging out with Swiss post Rituals, always coming back to the bus reeking of weed and booze, and simply staying in his bunk if he notices Rain come out. The Water ghoul had had enough, they had just finished tonight's Ritual, and he had heard Dew say something to Swiss about staying back tonight because he was tired, this was his chance. Declining Mountain and Aether’s offer to come to the bar with the rest of them, he waits until he hears the Fire ghoul leave his dressing room and exit the building before following him. Dew doesn’t seem to notice him as he makes his way onto the bus, Rain waits a minute before also entering.

He can hear the hybrid in the back, probably getting ready for a shower, tossing his mask on the couch, and walking towards the noise. Finding an unglamored and unmasked Dew with his back to him, he takes the chance and stalks toward him. Quickly whirling the smaller ghoul around and pushing him against the wall, hands pinning fragile wrists against the fake wood that houses their duffles and other items. “What the fuck, Rain? Let me the hell go!” Dew snarls, squirming, but the Water ghoul has a surprisingly tight grip, “No, you’re staying here until you tell me what the hell I ever did to you; why the fuck do you avoid me like I fucking killed your dog!” Rain spits, blue eyes staring holes through the smaller male, it makes the feeling from when they had first locked eyes reignite in Dew’s stomach. Trying to look anywhere except the Water ghoul, “I don’t have to tell you anything, let me go, Rain, or you’re going to fucking regret it.” he hisses, trying to seem tough and make him let go. But the lanky ghoul holds fast, serious expression unchanging.

Eventually, Dew folds, unable to handle those sapphire eyes staring into him any longer, “I..I don’t fucking know, you make this weird feeling happen in my stomach, and I don’t fucking like it or know what it is. I felt it when we first met, and it makes me uncomfortable.” he says, eyes shut tightly to try and avoid the stare. Rain’s face softens, ‘He doesn’t know..’ he thinks, “You really don’t know?” he asks softly, grip loosening slightly. Dew shakes his head, eyes still closed. “Do you know what destined mates are?” Rain asks, again with another shake of his head, the Water ghoul sighs, “Destined mates are basically ghoul soulmates, we were made for each other by Lord Lucifer.” he explains, “And we are each other’s destined mates.” he says.

Two-toned eyes shoot open, mouth gaping as he looks up at the taller male, “Ar..are you fucking with me?” he stutters, it’s Rain’s turn to shake his head, “I…this can’t be real..Swiss fucking put you up to this.” he babbles on as he tries to reason with himself. Rain sighs, slipping his hands from Dew’s wrists to his hands, intertwining their fingers, this makes the hybrids mouth snap shut, glancing at their hands, “When I first saw you, I felt safe, at home, and like I found a piece of myself that I didn’t even realize was missing. Did you feel that to Dewdrop?” Rain asks, a serious tone in his voice. Dew stares at him, “I..how the hell did you know that?” he questions, brows furrowing because how the fuck did he know exactly how he felt, there’s no way this is fucking true..is it. “Because we are each other’s missing piece. Every time I see you, I feel like I’m missing a piece of me because you’re not in my arm. Every time you run away, I feel like a chip of my being is being yanked away from me.” Rain explains, “Dew, I know you know it’s true. I see how you look at me when you think I’m not looking; it’s the same way I look at you.” he confesses, a blue flush coming to his cheeks as his confidence is starting to wear off, “Please believe me, I need to have you Dewdrop, I can’t stand watching you run away from me one more time..please…” he begs, eyes filled with desperation.

Dew is staring up at the Water ghoul, and he has described everything he has felt these last few months of knowing him. Every time he runs, it feels like he’s leaving a piece of himself away. The constant longing and the lonely feeling that fills his chest whenever he’s away from Rain. It all makes sense, instead of answering, he leans up on his toes and presses his mouth to the other ghouls. Rain is frozen for a moment, in shock at the soft lips pressed against his own, but he quickly drops Dew’s hands in favor of wrapping one arm around a thin waist and coming to cup his cheek, Dew’s coming up to fist into his shoulder-length hair. The kiss is filled with longing, need, and a hint of teeth, a sharp fang nips at Rain’s lower lip, earning a groan.

The ghouls returned to their tour bus reeking of sex, Petrichor, Cinnamon, and two content ghouls. “They finally fucking did it?!” Swiss gapes, catching sight of a long blue-grey leg dangling from Dew’s bunk, “Guess so, was wondering when they’d finally confess to each other.” Aether agrees, “10 bucks says Rain fucked the Gremlin.” Swiss smirks when suddenly a pillow comes flying from the bunk area, nailing the Multi in the head. The boys turn and see Dew glaring at them, hanging off the side of his bunk, “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I will maul you in your sleep.” he growls. An arm that belongs to the dangling drags the Gremlin back into the bunk, “Shush Dewy, leave them alone.” comes Rain’s muffled voice. “Dewy?” Aether asks, “Only Mountain and Cumulus can call him that without getting their face eaten?” he says, “I mean, it’s his destined mate, I don’t think he minds what he calls him.” Mountain chuckles, “Shut the fuck up, Mount, I will set fire to your greenhouse!” is heard from the back, followed by a sudden loud whine that clearly belonged to the hybrid, “Wanna go to that diner we saw before they fuck again?” Swiss suggests, “Right behind you!” Aether says, Mountain silently following as a string of whimpers and soft moans come from the bunk area.

[mikuni14]

Playboyy Ep 3

"Does sex have to be violent, Dad?" "Can't we just have normal sex?"

These two sentences brought me back to Playboyy after a rather weak episode 2 🥳

The series still has the same flaws for me, that is, it's not hot at all, the plot is all over the place, there are a lot of scenes I don't know where they came from, but I decided to change my perspective and look at this series differently.

Perhaps due to my age, my approach to Playboyy was, um, less favorable, but hearing these two sentences and especially watching the scenes with Soong made me realize that maybe I do not understand this series, because it is a series not "about me", but about young people living in the modern world and that it's a bit like Euphoria, which I watched with curiosity, a bit like a nature program about some exotic spieces 😃 with a mix of horror and compassion.

And I decided to look at Playboyy in the same way, I started analyzing this series ignoring let's call it "shockness" of the sex scenes and focusing on something else.

And what is it? The fact that these kids (sorry, for me they are kids, especially the rich twinks) are modern, well-educated sexually, know the appropriate vocabulary, are familiar with trends, freely navigate the Internet, social media and everything related to it, but THEIR EDUCATION AND KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT TRANSLATE TO REAL LIFE. Their professional sex vocabulary does not translate into COMMUNICATION. They are so free in their approach to sex that they are unable to create any real relationship with another person, because each of them is acually blocked in some way, the declared sexual freedom does not translate into freedom IN actual sex. Sex is treated nonchalantly, as something obvious, which results in tension, expectations that "you have to do it", that "everyone does it and they do it WELL", being "boyfriend ready" means being "sex ready", that good sex is kinky sex and necessarily penetration. They study sex and vocabulary diligently to be good at it and they think that all this is enough, that using the "safe word", "consent" will replace… the trust that should be simply developed. They do all this to avoid problems in sex and relationships, and it turns out that knowing all trends and professional vocabulary and behavior actually leads to disaster. What else catches my eye is that almost no one starts "vanilla", everyone immediately jumps into the deep end of the pool 😃 Not only that, no one is dating. I've already seen this in Only Friends, where dating, once it appeared, was also kind of "task-oriented" and had to be "perfect". In fact, everything has to be perfect and if it isn't, everyone, especially rich kids, folds like origami. In my opinion, Zouey should first go to a therapist, because his visible from space physical recoil from touch, combined with a relatively relaxed approach to other sexual behaviors, indicate something and it would be good for him to calmly deal with it before starting a new relationship and get himself hurt. (I hope that Zouey's approach to sex will be more understandable than Mew's, who considered himself a virgin until anal sex) Again, what I see in young people today, and what TV series are starting to show: recording, taking photos, using it to humiliate others, living on social media… tbh, I feel very sorry for young people. And finally, the rich kids and their complete detachment from reality, living in a sparkly world of illusions and fantasies. Watching Soong and First was painful.

For me, this series is an insight into the world of a group of young people. This reality is, of course, exaggerated, but it shows how much everything has changed. We were also lost because we lacked proper education and had to cope by "trial and error". We simply had no idea about many things because we didn't even know about them! Now young people are also lost, only this time they have ALL the knowledge at their disposal, they are held accountable for this knowledge, they have access to the most hardcore porn. Maybe I'm wrong, but maybe that's what this series is trying to show us? Or am I looking into it too much? 😊 Anyway, after episode 3, this is how I decided to approach it (it can of course change, for now my opinion about Playboyy changes after each ep, it's wild)

Just like in Euphoria and Only Friends, here too, it's difficult to really like any of the characters...🤔

[wintersmitth]

1, 3, 4, 7, 8, 13, 14, 16, 18, 22

Thank you!!

So since you didn't specify the fandom, I'll reply with a bunch of them!

the character everyone gets wrong

Bilbo fucking Baggins. He's a scrungly bitchy bachelor who likes his life to be just as he likes. He is in a petty warfare with Lobelia Sackville Baggins. He adopts his weirdest cousin. He talks Thorin off. He faces a dragon. He's grumpy at Gandalf and is in fact a bestie with him. He is not a soft hobbit flower!!!

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Already answered

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

So I usually I only block people on political grounds. Say, Russia bootlicker, commie truthers, terfs and such. But I recently blocked a person who is being annoying about their fanfique.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

So I started resenting Captain America after Civil War. Not because I don;t like, but because how fucked the fandom acted. And instead I became die hard Tony Stark fan, even though I never cared about him before.

Also I almost started hating Ferdie Kingsley for fandom reasons, but I won't elaborate on that.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Again, Hob's existence doesn't revolve around Dream. I so so hate the trope where once they get together Hob gets stripped of, I don't know, half his agency, and his defining personality becomes loving and being devoted to Dream.

13. worst blorboficiation

Will Graham. I said what I said.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

Gender norms 2.0 but for gays! Oh this guy is a bottom, he is weak and a twink and cries and is basically a girl. Miss me with that.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I don't see any appeal in the priest AUs. This is some kind of specifically Catholic experience I could never get behind. Also, cowards for only writing Catholic priests. Make it a priest kink with Паша Мерседес.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

Sam Vimes and Sybil Ramkin. Maybe not sleeping sleeping, but THEY DON'T GET ENOUGH LOVE. Ultimate power couple. The way Sam becomes a putty in Sybil's hands. The way she is loved by him. The way they are so fucking perfect to each other!!!!

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Again, Orpheus!! Orphy boy needs much more love!!

Sorry it got less and less words by the end of it, I hope I answered at least something you were interested in!!

Ask me Choose Violence Asks!

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry radiates sex appeal. We hope you enjoy this fics! If you find our rec lists useful, please support them by liking the post and reblogging it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Gimme Gimme | Mature | 5957 words

He dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down face-first onto the bed, groaning, and started thinking about that new neighbor. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe this was the time for him to actually try and find a love interest that lasted longer than 2 weeks. He rolled over and sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window.

And what he saw was probably the most amazing thing on the planet.

Walking into his new neighbor’s house was a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase while his Porsche sat in the driveway.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht?  That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on.  He also thinks he'd like to get closer.  Just to see what's under those aviators.  Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet.  Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life.  On a yacht.  In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.  

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

3) Sweet Like Cherry Vodka | Not Rated | 8039 words

When he exits the building he instantly sees him. He’s leaning against his white Mercedes Benz convertible. The car makes him look more expensive. Of course, the navy blue suit that fits tightly around his broad shoulders — making Louis want to fall to his knees, mind you — also helps to get the message across. He looks up from his phone, his sleek black aviators block Louis from seeing his dark eyes.

When Louis knows Harry's watching him he smiles. A grin grows on Harry’s mouth, his strong jaw moves cockily while he chews his gum. How does someone make chewing gum so hot?

“Need a ride sweetheart?” Harry calls to him, the statement adds to his cocky demeanor.

“You know I do, silly.” Louis laughs at how ridiculous the older man can be.

4) You And I ‘Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

5) Guns N Roses | Mature | 14069 words

Harry's an assassin, Louis is a government agent. They hate each other but not really.

6) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

7) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

8) Even The Best Laid Plans | Explicit | 25190 words

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

9) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

10) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he's ever seen.

11) Take My Pure (And Wash It All Away ‘Til I’m Cured) | Explicit | 40629 words

They're all 19. Louis is a twink, Harry is a frat boy hunk. Harry for some reason wants his makeup done for pride, and Louis is just trying so very hard to stay clear of all alleged fuckboys this year.

12) In The Still Of The Night | Explicit | 68568 words

The Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

13) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76576 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

14) Your Name is Tattooed on My Heart | Explicit | 86809 words

Note: This fic has mentions of top Louis.

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

15) Beyond The Point Of Weird | Mature | 108331 words

Louis meets Harry one night and well... Of course things lead from one thing to another. How could Louis not be interested in having a go at the ex-Rockstar who'd starred in his first wet dream?

When Harry asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend to help him clear up his image, Louis agrees because why the fuck not. Yet it kind of feels like the only 'fake' part of their relationship is the title they chose for it... And then it gets confusing.

Louis' pretty sure he walked right into a trap - one he's not quite sure he wants to escape.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[fizzychocolatemilk]

You've Got a Friend in Me (You've Got Troubles. I've Got 'em too.) (A Bakudeku Tropetember Fic)

Another Tropetember thingy (this one is a little late though...oops). I classify this one as a fic because it surpassed 1K. This one is for day eight:  5+1 / 3+1 (Five Times + One Time). AO3 link is here. It’s slightly angsty...so beware of feels.

tw: use of the f slur, homophobia, unsupportive parents, bullying

(1.)

“You’ll always be nothing but some dumbass, lightning-bolt faggot! You should just pack up and quit the hero course now. You’re too stupid to ever make it further than some lowly sidekick position,” the boy finished his abuse before dissolving into obnoxious laughter. 

 Said boy was one of Denki’s middle school classmates. Denki had accidentally run into him because he was texting Eijirou. The boy had looked over his shoulder and seen Eiji’s name (along with a heart) and started making fun of him for being “a faggot”. Denki knew he shouldn’t take what some asshole said to heart, but the things that he said reminded Denki of other times when he had been put down similarly. Lots of people seemed to think he was an incompetent dumbass who could never do anything right unless he had help, and, while sure, he was a little slow in academics...he definitely had other skill sets that made him a kick-ass hero! That didn’t mean that it was easy to convince himself of that.

 “Denki-kun! Hi!” a voice broke Denki out of his spiral.

 Denki turned toward the voice and, low and behold, it was Izu-kun. Denki gave Izuku a weak smile and a wave as he stood tensely next to the bully.

 “Denki! Who’s this? A friend?” Izuku asked as he walked up to the two. His voice sounded dangerous, and Denki could hear the “or foe?” that came after his words. At 17, Class 3-A knew that Izuku was dangerously protective of his friends, and they all did their best not to provoke his fury in any way. Because a feral Izuku was terrifying. 

 The bully didn’t know this though, and he simply laughed before “greeting” Izuku, “Ah, guess we’ve got another faggot. Or did you not know that Lightning Dolt here was a twink?”

 Izuku’s aura darkened several degrees at the boy's statement but still he shot the boy a bright (but fake) smile, “I’ll give you three seconds to run before I fucking destroy you.”

 The boy’s face dropped and he blinked, “Uhhh...what?”

 Izuku continued to smile, “One.”

 The boy’s eyes widened in panic, “Wait, man!”

 “Two.”

 The boy started running, “We can talk about this!”

 “Three,” Izuku immediately gave chase—or he would have if Denki hadn’t given him a small shock and held him back. Izuku struggled for a second before sighing and turning to Denki, “Denki-kun, you are more than just a brainless idiot and more than just a...a...you know. You’re amazing and talented in your own right and I’m proud to call you my friend.”

 Denki blinked in surprise before blushing lightly, “Thanks, Izu. I really appreciate it.” He smiled genuinely at Izuku.

 (2.)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Momo,” the dark-haired woman stared harshly down at her daughter, “You may feel like this now, but one day you’ll find a nice, upstanding gentleman that captures your heart. Not some...punk-rock freak-girl.”

 Momo stared down at her feet and sighed softly before replying, “Yes, mother.”

 However, as she turned to make her way into the dorms, and her mother turned to meet with the chauffeur, she heard a very familiar voice. “Excuse me, ma’am! Yaoyorozu-san! May I have a word with you?” Momo turned to see Izuku-kun coming down the dorm steps and speed walking down the lawn to meet with the two women. He had a slightly dangerous aura (someone outside of Class A wouldn’t even notice), but Momo stood rigid as her friend stood up to her mother, “Yaoyorozu-san. I think you should consider taking your daughter more seriously. 

 “You might not know me well personally, but Yaomomo-chan and I know each other very well and I would consider us good friends. She’s smart, resourceful, and talented, and I think we can both agree that she will make a fantastic hero. But Yaomomo-chan is also responsible and mature, definitely mature enough to make her own decisions about her relationship choices. 

 “My own mother is very protective of me too, but I think that part of being a parent means accepting and supporting children through their choices and the consequences of those choices (good or bad), even if they aren’t choices that you, yourself, would make. I hope that you can come to respect Yaomomo-chan’s decisions about her own future, and find comfort in the fact that I, and everyone else in Class A, will always offer her our full support. Thank you for your time.” Izuku bowed politely before turning to Momo. “Kacchan made dinner. You should come eat it before it gets cold,” he smiled before heading back inside.

 Momo’s mother looked surprised for a second before saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. Momo smiled after her before whispering under her breath, “You are a marvelous friend, Izuku-kun.”

 (3.)

Hanta was in a rush to get to class. Usually he was pretty punctual, but today he missed his alarm so he wasn’t feeling the best. Anxious and rushed, he accidentally ran into the worst person reasonably possible.

 “Ahah, if it isn’t the plain-faced tape dispenser from Class A!” Monoma laughed, “Late to class, I see! Tsk, tsk, yet another reason Class B is superior! At the very least we’re punctual!”

 Hanta deadpanned at the slate-eyed boy, “You know you’re late too, right?”

 Monoma’s jaw dropped for a second before he regained his composure. He huffed and took another angle, “Well, at least I have a personality! You’re so boring that it’s a wonder anyone pays attention to you at all. You’re almost more invisible than the invisible girl in your class! Not to mention that you’ll probably never get a girlfriend, hah!”

 Hanta rolled his eyes, despite the pang in his heart, before maneuvering himself to speed-walk past Monoma. “I’m literally dating Shou. It’s been the hot gossip for the past few days, and you’re definitely shallow enough to keep up with the gossip mill.”

 Monoma guffawed, “How did a plain-faced peasant like you end up with someone as high class as Todoroki? It’s a wonder, isn’t it? But, of course, I’m sure you’ve been hearing that for the past few days, haven’t you?”

 Hanta knew that he shouldn’t take anything that Monoma says seriously, but he’d been hearing how “unworthy” he was of Shouto for the past few days (since their relationship became public knowledge). The scathing words got to him and it made him doubt himself a little. He sped off towards his classroom, ignoring Monoma’s jeers in the background.

 That day, during a joint training session, Izuku requested to be paired with Monoma...and maybe Izuku went a little harder than he usually did. Maybe Monoma ended up in the infirmary before class ended, but it was training so Izuku couldn’t really be blamed for accidentally injuring his classmate, could he?

 Hanta smiled as he now had an explanation for the flash of green he swore he saw out of the corner of his eye as he was rushing to class after the encounter.

 (+1.) 

Katsuki slapped Deku on the back after training. “What the fuck was that, nerd?! You fucking beat the hell outta the Copycat Freak! Why can’t you ever go that hard when we train?”

 Deku’s face flushed as he turned a blinding smile at Katsuki. Cute. Katsuki shook himself from his thoughts as Deku started talking to him. “I guess I just got really into the exercise, Kacchan!”

 Katsuki could tell that Izuku’s words weren’t the whole truth but he decided to gloss over it for now in favor of focusing on a topic that had been bugging him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Mochi Head lately. Skimping on our training. Any specific reason, Deku?”

 Katsuki watched as Deku’s face flushed again, but this time it made a pit grow in his stomach. The pit grew as Deku stumbled over his words for a few minutes before answering, “We’ve just been helping each other study, Kacchan.” 

 “You’re fucking lying, stupid Deku,” Katsuki scoffed as his heart started cracking, tiny pieces falling into the void. “But it’s fucking fine. If you’d rather waste time with your girlfriend like a dumbass then I’ll take the number one spot all the more easily,” he said, but the words felt ashy in his mouth, empty and non-fulfilling.

 He started walking away when there was a sharp tug on his wrist. “Kacchan!” It was Deku. It was always Deku. Katsuki stopped trying to pull away, but he didn’t turn around yet. “I love you! No one else! Ochako-chan has just been helping me work through my feelings for you! She has feelings for someone else!” Katsuki turned sharply to see Deku staring intensely at him. “You are my symbol of victory. My hero. My Kacchan. It’s only ever been you, so please. Please allow me to stand by your side!”

 Katsuki sniffled before completely breaking down in tears from the emotional taxation of the last few minutes. Being the empathetic crier he is, Deku broke down with him and they held each other and sobbed. After a couple more minutes, Katsuki had pulled himself together enough to respond, “Y-yeah, dumb Deku. Keep your eyes on me.”

 Katsuki stood and extended a hand to Izuku to help him up. Izuku stared at him fondly for a split second before taking his offer. They walked back to the dorms side-by-side and hand-in-hand.

[ginazmemeoir]

Mmkay so this is just a fic idea that was swirling in my head, based off the tale of Kacha and Devayani. hope you like it :D

tagging some : @gopikanyari @momo-all-the-way @carmen-riddle @taareginn @reddish-green-personality

@holding-infinity-and-a-book @aadyeah @weird-u @the-fault-in-our-inquilab @dragonfairy1231 @allegoriesinmediasres @mango-pickle

The afternoon sun poured through the trees. A breeze flowed through the forest, picking up pace and then lazing back, like a cat trying to chase bees. Kacha, Sharmishtha, Prabha and I had gathered near a brook. It was our favourite spot in Vrishaparva. There were no prying eyes, and devas did not interfere in asura territory so we were safe from them as well. Everything seemed a bit too bright and colourful whenever Kacha was around. He chalked it up to the fact that his mother was a yaksha, so he had a connection with the forests. I sighed as I admired him – his flowing shoulder length locks, his wide nose and high cheekbones, his smile, the way he talked with the cows, his biceps as he whirled around his lathi. “Quit ogling him and just go up to him already or you’re gonna end up alone in a pit” said Sharmishtha, elbowing me. “I don’t even know what you see in him. I hear the other asuras call him a ‘deva bastard’ and a ‘twink’.” “That’s because they’re jealous of him. No asura could match the way he looks, or the way he behaves” I reply, cutting off Prabha’s useless critiques.

The wind picks up pace once again, and Sharmishtha gets up chasing her dupatta. A blue lotus flutters and drops near my feet, and I pick it up. It shimmers as if dusted with moonshine, and its scent made the fullest of roses in bloom in spring smell like stale bread. Prabha put it along with the other flowers in my gajra, and said “Even Lakshmi wouldn’t look half as beautiful as you when she sees you like this” she laughs merrily. I push at her playfully, and that is when Kacha arrives there. He was mostly silent, listening, observing, so it made me feel as if the lotus was a drug when he said, “Devayani, can I have that lotus?”

I hastily pluck it from my hair and give it to him. Sharmishtha returned by then, leaves in her hair, and her torn dupatta in her hand. “It was stuck in a branch and I had to climb 6 feet to retrieve it.” Kacha was oblivious to her rant, and he kept looking at the flower, as if studying a complex problem. “Do you like it Devayani?” he asks. I stare at him, slack jawed, dumbfounded to reply for a minute. “Yes she does. Now Kacha why don’t you get her those flowers?” “After all aren’t you the one who brings flowers for her priceless gajras?” say Prabha and Sharmishtha in order, teasing Kacha. A blush creeps up his cheeks, as he replies, “Lady Devyani is my guru’s daughter, it is my duty to serve her.” What I wouldn’t give to hear those words, but spoken with love instead of reverence. “They grow near the river’s source, in a lake nearby. That is the only place you can find these blue lotuses.” Sharmishtha says. Determination fills Kacha’s eyes. Sometimes I do wonder if he lies about his half yaksha parentage, for there is certainly something… different about his eyes. “I will return by dusk with your cattle Lady Devyani.” He assures me, and leaves for the lotuses, getting his lathi for the trek up ahead. I don’t believe his promise at all. Twice he’s promised me before, and twice before have the other jealous asuras murdered him, and twice before has father resurrected him through the mrita-sanjeevani on my plea. I look behind him, hopeful for the love budding in his heart, and dreading for his safety.

Dusk creeps its way into the ashram. I stand at the gate, looking anxiously for any sign of Kacha, when the asuras, led by Atibala, arrive at the gates. They were clearly coming after making merry, and I could smell the scent of honey wine on them. “Guru Shukracharya, please come accept our obeisance” says an asura, slurring his words and giggling half way through. Father arrives, in his flowing white dhoti and beard, annoyed at the disturbance in his prayers to Shambhu. “Who is it at this late – oh Atibala! Come, it is always great to see an old student!” says father, as he invited Atibala and his companions. Maybe he wouldn’t greet them the same way if he knew they were the ones who had murdered his favourite disciple in cold blood twice. Or maybe he did know, but chose to ignore it. Atibala brings a pitcher and a goblet towards father and offers him wine. Father took the goblet and greedily inhaled the scent, swirling the vessel. An enthusiastic wine connoisseur, father downed the goblet in one gulp, remarking afterwards that it tasted different. Atibala attributed it to fanciful terms like the right serving temperature, touched father’s feet and left. Father soon after retired to his chambers, leaving me alone.

The sky is now dotted by stars, illuminated by the first rays of moonlight, and I start panicking. There is still no sign of Kacha. I rush towards father’s chambers and wake him up. “Father, Kacha hasn’t returned yet. Please do something!” I cry. Father immediately gets up, all hints of the sluggishness from the wine gone. He instructs me to light a lamp, and to wait outside. After what feels like eternity, but would have been a blink of an eye for him, he calls me in. His expression is gaunt, and his hands are trembling. “What happened father?” I ask, warily. “Kacha is no more.” he says, as if tired. “What?” I reply, shocked. “I SAID HE IS DEAD. HE WAS CUT DOWN BY ATIBALA AND HIS PARTY, AND THEN THE SON OF A BITCH BURNT HIM.” “Father, you are the only person in this universe who can revive the dead. Twice you have revived him at my behest, I vow father this is the last time I ask of you, please bring Kacha back.” I plead again, trying to calm father’s rage. He goes into a meditative trance again, but returns back quickly, this time even more shocked than last time. “Kacha is in me.” I am too stunned to even comprehend what he means. “Atibala mixed his ashes in my wine.” Father says, disgusted and horrified at himself, his students, and fate’s cruel turn.

Dread floods me. I cannot choose the man I love, about whose love I’m not even sure, over my father. Father, as if sensing my thoughts, says in a resigned tone, “Devyani, I can only resurrect Kacha on one condition. I will have to teach him the mrita-sanjeevani, which Kacha will then use to resurrect me back once he comes out of my body.” Father sounds like a defeated man. Obviously, such a heinous act by ones students was bound to leave a teacher like this. I kneel beside father’s bed, holding his hand, calming and healing him through my powers, as he starts chanting the mantra. Slowly, a faint light starts emitting from him. Kacha then emerges, making a sickening sound as he tore through father’s abdomen. Immediately he kneels down beside father, laying his hand on his chest, and utters the mantra. Father’s stomach seals up, and his breath returns to him as he opens his eyes. He still has that odd look of resignation on his face, and looks at me with – pity?

Today has been a lesson to me, a lesson that matters of the heart while shouldn’t be rushed, should certainly not be stayed, lest the heart’s wish never take wings. I can’t even bear the thought of losing Kacha again, not without telling him how I felt about him. “Kacha,” I start, as I move towards him “, I am in love with you. I love you like the dawn loves the sun, like the river loves the sea, like the clouds love-“ “Stop Devyani.” Kacha says, interrupting me midway. I fear what’s going to happen. Is he offended? Or does he not love me? “Devyani, I must return back.” Kacha says. “Where?” I ask him. Kacha had showed up on our door once, and each time I asked about his origin or parentage, he shied away. “Back to Amravati.” he replies. The deva capital? I look at father, who has instead chosen to look at the floor. I look back at Kacha.

I now realize the heartbreak that poets so fondly mention, as if stating the weather. How idiotic they are. Heartbreak wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t even painful. It was draining. Everything I thought I knew was a lie. The man I had fallen for saw me as nothing more than a tool. All those times I caught him looking at me, or when he caught I, was a performance. His demeanour? What about his silent laugh? Was the way he blushed earlier today also a performance, part of an elaborate use to manipulate me? A thousand questions flood me, but only one sentence makes it out of my mouth – “You lied to me. You-you used me?” Tears blur my vision as I take a step back. “You are just a deva spy, and you used me.” Kacha stays silent, his shoulders hunched and head bent. “And you knew – you knew and you kept this a secret from me!” I whirl at father. He looks at me with tear stained eyes. “Devayani I-“ “Don’t you dare even take my name out of your filthy impure tongue!” I shout as I turn back to Kacha. He flinches at my tone, and I see the glistening tears on his face as well.

“You knew how I felt about you. You knew I loved you, and you knew I would get father to resurrect you each time you died. Had you told me your truth, I would’ve kept my distance, I would’ve stayed out of your way, I would’ve respected you for fighting for your faction, and yet. Yet you chose to manipulate me and my love, you conniving betraying lying cheating deva bastard!” Kacha looks taken aback at my words. I can feel my features contorting from my rage and pain. I can feel the hurt I’m causing, the way my tongue bleeds Kacha’s heart like he bled mine. I muster all my powers, and then I utter words that would cause Kacha the most suffering – “Kacha. You have seen my love so far, but now you will see the power of my hatred and my wrath. Kacha, I curse you to never be able to use the mrit-sanjeevani. I curse you to forget the knowledge to use the same mantra for which you have died and returned to the world thrice. Let the devas know that their spy failed.”

Kacha’s expression turns to stone. He bows to my father and touches his feet, and my father, the chivalrous, honourable man he is, blessed the man who almost killed him and broke his only child’s heart with a curt “May you emerge victorious in all future missions.”. Kacha then flies out of my house, and a blue lotus, with petals that shone like moonshine and fragrance that made the fullest of roses blooming in spring smell like stale bread, falls at my feet.

[vbee-miya]

[So You Do Love Me]

✥︎ gwess x gn! reader || m.list

type: drabble

synopsis: y/n had an unexpected pleasant visit by an old friend of theirs. and talking to them with very little knowledge about the situation, nothing makes sense.

w/c: 701

a/n: because i was originally going to write this for reiner, but like head empty gwess. i guess. rereading this was crack what was I even on. warnings: pg13 swearing but like nothing too bad seriously

It was nothing out of the blue really.

You both had known each other a while back. It was nothing really. However, now seeing her in person after who knows how many years; not one bit has changed about her.

“Well?” She looks over to you getting closer to your face in an almost mocking way. “How’ve you been?”

You stood in front of the ledge overlooking the beach. Taking one more bite of the food you had brought from the beach shop; you shrugged. If you were honest you didn’t know what to say. I mean you were just minding your business until you saw a glimpse of her.

You almost completely forgot about her given how many years it’s been since her imprisonment. Hell was she even supposed to be out? Was her term over?

You shook your head no, it definitely hasn’t been 12 years. So what happened? Why was she out all of a sudden? Did she get years off by doing extra work? It didn’t seem like her, but who knows maybe she might’ve.

“[name] are you ignoring me?” She stood arms folded across her chest. You stared at her for some answer to your question, but it was hopeless.

Gasping dramatically at your silence she was quick to jump at you. “So you are ignoring me?”

Before you could speak she spoke first, “let me guess, you’re thinking that I should still be in prison because of the number of charges and felonies held against me. You also think that I reduced my imprisonment years by helping out. Or rather you think I escaped.” She leaned closer to your eyes, “Yeah~ that’s it. You do think I’m a jail escapee. Geez, some friend you are.”

“Listen, how would I know what happened in jail or not. I just so happened to be shocked at how you’re here without prior knowledge to you not being in jail anymore. I mean don’t get me wrong -”

“No, I did escape. Alongside a cellmate of mine.”

You were about to yell at her however you felt your mouth fall shut. You were muffling words now. She couldn’t stand the sound of you struggling. It bothered her actually. However, you were a dear friend to her. So she didn’t care for what you were trying to say. In fact, your eyes said everything she needed to know.

“[name], how about we both walk around the beach together?” She spoke over your muffing voice and dragged you down the stone stairs leading to the beach.

“Oh ~ [name] let's sit down on this stone ledge. The view would be quite nice from up there.”

It took no longer than ten passing minutes that the heavy burden that was previously placed on top of your lips had gone away. You touched your lips and they felt normal even with that heavy burden.

You looked over to her in confusion, anger, fear. “Why? GWESS WHY? HOW -” You felt her finger shush you.

“I would tell you why, but you’re too loud. Keep talking like that and our friendship is going to break apart.” She gave a mocking frown. “Now i don’t twink yew would wike that wright?”

You looked at her in bafflement, “Gwess what the hell? W-What? Since when did you -” You gave a sigh of defeat. Unable to explain what you wanted to say. This definitely wasn't the Gwess you knew once upon a time.

“Say [name], you love me right?”

Shocked yet again by her words you couldn’t form an answer right away. “I mean, sure I care about you, but nothing is connecting in my head. It doesn't make any sense.” You exhaled and turned towards her, “Gwess you’re not making any sense. And I mean I’m worried about you about the sudden confession of breaking out of jail also the number of years you’ll end up being held for. As a close friend of yours, I can’t keep trying to defend you like this.”

She looked at you batting her eyes as if she were in awe. Hands folded together in delight as she brought them up to her face. “So you do love me!”

[thejollywriter]

The Reformationist

Delilah Jones has done many things to try and help folks. But when she’s approached by the descendant of Irene Adler to try and catch a serial killer no one else wants to hunt, she gets the impression she’d been missing her truest calling. She finds herself apprenticed to the the descendant of one of the cleverest hustlers to ever turn a trick, and hunting a killer without conscience or hesitation. 

It’s a hard day to be Delilah Jones. (Chapter One is below, I hope you enjoy)

***

“You still working security?” I asked Kaye as I approached the front door to Lexi’s. It was an erotic club near the middle of Redwood, a good place for a good time if that’s what you wanted. Lots of talented dancers and performers, lots of beautiful people for most attractions, too.

“Personal security to the boss, but given your shared history, I figured I better be the one to meet you at the door, lest someone else catch your ire.” Kaye said.

She had a sawn-off shotgun in her hands, a strap anchored to the base of the pistol grip. She kept both hands on it, finger off the triggers. Kaye was tall, leggy, skinny, smoked a lot, and had a prickly hair that tended to change color as her moods did. She was also ferociously capable as a fighter, and loyal to boot.

“Way to make me sound unhinged. Like I shouldn’t have good reason to hold a grudge.”

“They do business. That you didn’t catch that isn’t their fault.”

“You weren’t in my bedroom,” I met Kaye’s eyes. “And you don’t get to pass judgment on me from your place of reverence.”

“Leave your piece.”

“Didn’t carry.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

“I don’t. But if you search me, I won’t react violently.”

“Good. Julian?”

Standing near Kaye was a twink with a mechanized crossbow. He lowered the crossbow to the end of the strap, and approached me. I held my arms out, and his hands moved swiftly over my body.

“No gun.” He said. “But I still feel like she’s armed.”

“Rigged.” I winked at him. “Don’t find out how extensively.”

“Remember your manners,” Kaye said. “I’ll be nearby.”

“Ain’t my manners you gotta worry about.” I said, and walked through the front door.

Light tubes shimmered over the entrance, the gamut of color rotated overhead as I passed through the entryway onto the dance floor.

It sloped, gently, from the front door, urged you down and to the right, towards the stage.

Most nights, it worked.

There was a bar along the left wall, but no one served drinks right now. The lights were on, the dance floor deserted, and cartons of liquor were stacked in the middle of the floor to be distributed to the bars throughout the club.

I found the stairs that led to the upper office, and climbed them. The office looked down on the club through one-way glass. And inside, I found them standing by their desk with their arms crossed.

Andy was a handsome butch, a looker under any circumstance. I’d met them a couple of years ago, when I was but a lowly freelancer and they, I thought, were just a waiter in the club. Dancer, too, and I’d paid for their attention.

Management changed, and rules of contact, and we started to share as much as could be shared with limited time in a rented booth in a strip club.

I loved them, full stop and without compromise. I still couldn’t tell you if they loved me too, or if it was just business.

The cynic’s answer is what I’m leaning towards, these days. It wasn’t always.

“Andy,” I said by way of greeting. I managed not to bark their name, which surprised me. They were tall, strong in the shoulders, with scruffy black hair and bright eyes.

“Delilah,” they stood up straight. “Good to see you.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“This is--”

“Oh you’re a specimen, aren’t you?” The other lady asked. She was British, built finer’n fine, with strong cheekbones and a mischievous smile and quick eyes that missed nothing. “You’ll do nicely.”

“Irene, this is Delilah Jones. Freelancer.”

“I was told that you’re something of a private detective.” The lady said.

“On occasion.” I said. “Who are you?”

“Delilah, please--”

“You’re a blunt one, aren’t you?” The lady faced me, hands in her slacks pockets. They were black linen, with a sharp crease, she wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a maroon vest.

She was, in fact, stylish, and if I was in a better mood, I’d probably be attracted to her.

“It’s been a day already,” I said. “I was asleep when I got the call, so, that’s put me on the wrong foot.”

“The day’s not likely to get any shorter,” the lady said. “So if you need coffee or liquor, now’s the time to fill up.”

“You know where the bar is,” Andy said, and didn’t look at me.

“I’m good.” I said. “What’s the gig?”

“Not to pivot unexpectedly, but what is the tension?” She looked back and forth between Andy and I. “There’s history, that’s evident for sure, but what was the nature? Base guess is romantic but one can’t always rely on the basest of deductions when you meet people, can you?”

“Certainly not.” I crossed my arms. “It was nothing. What’s the gig?”

“Come now, we love a good story, don’t we, and I’m absolutely dying for clarification--”

“I didn’t stutter,” I said, harder than I needed to. “And if you want my help, you better offer some clarity as to why I’m here.”

“I wanna catch a killer!” She took a few steps towards me. “He is cunning, violent, malicious, and methodical. The FBI called me crazy and said he wasn’t a serial murderer. The LAPD ignored my requests for help, and marked the internal files on the homicides as ‘nhi.’”

“NHI?” Andy asked.

“No human involved,” I said. “It’s what they say when sex workers get killed, or gang members, or homeless folks are involved in a crime. Shorthand so they can write the cases off, and the details don’t make it into the national registry for crime statistics.”

“A disgusting practice,” the lady said. “But one I can’t seem to circumvent with the powers I possess.”

“You still haven’t introduced yourself,” I said. “Andy used a name for you, but is it yours?”

“Hardly mine, it was my great-grandmother’s, but it’s got a certain poetry and I rather enjoy the beauty of poetry, you know?”

“Her name was Irene?”

“It certainly was, and her last name changed as her interests did, but she was known, professionally, as Adler for quite a while.” Irene grinned at me. “You’re not crazy, and yes, that’s my name.”

“Irene goddamn Adler.” I said, and couldn’t hide my awe. “Holy shit. Your ancestor’s exploits are legendary. The work she did in Milan during World War One is still talked about in the circles I’ve moved through.”

“That’d make her intensely happy, it surely would. It was in Milan that she met my great grandmother, the partner who helped her author the generations of Adlers to come.”

“The great Irene Adler was married to a trans woman?” I whispered. “You’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t be so crass.” She was within arm’s reach now and she grinned at me with ruby lips. “Irene was a freelancer, contracted by MI5 to help with weapons smuggling. Her handler was a closeted woman, a Navy Commander, and to say they fell in love at first sight is to understate it. Irene loved her, intensely, and was immensely protective of her wife.”

“I can only imagine. And given the thoroughness with which she hustled that detective, I can imagine the lengths she’d go to protect her wife.”

“Just so.” She offered me her hand. “That marks me Irene, and you Delilah Jones, trans woman and a freelancer of some renown. What say you, Miss Jones? Will you help me catch a killer?”

“I certainly will, Miss Adler.” I grinned, shook her hand.

“Then the first order of business is coffee, while we get up to speed.”

“We have space here,” Andy said.

“No,” I said. “I’ve got a place. Thanks for the call.”

I tried not to savor the look of jealousy on Andy’s face as we walked out.

(End Chapter)

More will be shared on Patreon! Coming Soon!

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[spooky-ghost-boi]

Damn shawty, you definitely thicc.

A ReddNook weight gain fic.

Words: 2306

Description: Tom gets injured and has to sit on his ass for a couple months and work from home and Redd is making sure Tom doesn’t “Starve”

Warnings: people with climacophobia/traumatophobia this is definitely not your jam, mentions of a blowjob (I’m too unsure to actually write it out, I’m sorry), weight gain (duh), Tom Nook vs Ladder, prOfAniTieS, Redd AND Isabelle enjoy groping Tom’s fat don’t @ me on that.

A/N: depending on how well this does, I might write a part two. Also I had help brainstorming!

Ps: Imagine how good my grades would be if I wrote my assignments this quick and handed them in before the deadline.

_

Tom had rushed out of the door, realizing he was about to be too late if he didn’t hurry up to the Resident Services. His large breakfast still sat rather heavy in his stomach which made his stomach hurt slightly as he speed walked but he had a lot to get done today.

He was a little surprised to see that Isabelle hadn’t arrived yet, in the meantime he walked to the backroom so he could brew himself some coffee. He heard a dripping noise, thanks to his enhanced hearing. Looking up he noticed a hole in one of the pipes and sighed to himself.

Tom still felt rather tired and his movements were rather slow and sluggish as he made his way to the basement to get a ladder. He put the ladder against the wall and climbed it up, surprised by how.. Exhausting it seemed now.

Meanwhile Isabelle came in and smiled softly to herself when she saw Tom’s stuff already on his desk.

Crash!

A slight groan in both pain and annoyance.

Her smile faded immediately and she rushed into the backroom, she noticed the chunky Tanuki lying on the floor under a leaking pipe and a broken ladder.

“Tom! Are you alright?!” Isabelle asked in shock.

“I’m doing splendid! It’s not like my leg is twisted at an unnatural angle, hm?.. Couldn’t be me! Yes, yes.” Tom said in slight annoyance.

_._._.

After a couple nights in the hospital Tom was back home, his leg was broken.. Which obviously wasn’t ideal. He had to work from home and either Redd, Timmy or Tommy had to deliver his paperwork to Isabelle every evening.

He’d been spending roughly a week at home and it had been rather peaceful to his surprise, Redd was distracting him sometimes for.. Other things or he was making Tom food. Good food, a lot of food and of course Tom lacked self-restraint so he often just ended up accidentally stuffing himself when he was working. Sometimes to the point he had to unbutton his progressively tighter pants.

“Hey, Nookie~ I got you your favorite coffee and doughnuts, they’re still warm.” Redd said to his quite chunky boyfriend.

“I told you to not call me that! But, thank you, hm.” He said, as he filed papers. Eyeing the mess on the desk.

“Enjoy your doughnuts, I’ll be in the kitchen making lunch for you.” Redd said, smirking to himself before leaving the room. His plan was working.

After a couple of minutes of diligently working, Tom grabbed a donut and ate it. He moaned as the incredible flavor hit him. He had a huge sweet tooth, especially when it came to pastries.

Therefore he devoured those 6 doughnuts within 30 minutes, feeling quite stuffed. His pants were uncomfortable and he just unbuttoned them. The coffee gave him a boost of energy which is something he desperately needed as the huge snack he just had seemed to make him tired. He groaned and rubbed his stomach.

He took a breather. Then returned to filing papers and making the occasional call.

He wasn’t even hungry before Redd barged in with a nice and full plate of pasta and tomato sauce.. With loads of cheese on it.

“Redd.. I’m actually still quite stuffed.” Tom said as he shifted his weight in his chair, it creaked slightly and he didn’t actually pay attention to it.

“Awe, come on Tom. You wouldn’t want to eat cold pasta now, do you? You don’t have to eat all of it, just eat as much as you can! ” Redd told him.

“Fine! Just put it on the table.. I’ll eat it. Thank you, yes, yes.” Tom said and continued with his work. He somehow felt hungry again.. Or did he just feel the need to eat? Or was it boredom.

Redd smiled at the Tanuki, “I’ll pick up Timmy and Tommy later, but I’ll tell you before I leave. “ Redd said.

“That’s splendid..” Tom said as he grabbed the plate of pasta and began to eat. He was eating out of stress and boredom more than anything else. He failed to notice how much his belly was pushing out, making the fact evident he unbuttoned his pants.

“You need some bigger pants, Nookie~?” Redd said in a slightly teasing tone.

“No.. I’m just bloated. I guess it’s the lack of movement, hm?” Tom said, he ACTUALLY was convinced that was the reason and Redd found it cute.

“I see.. You don’t have that much to do right now, do you?” Redd asked and winked slightly at his boyfriend.

“That depends on what you mean.. Hm.?” Tom asked as he put a few papers aside. He totally understood what Redd meant but he wanted him to be more direct. For his entertainment of course.

“I could suck your dick.” Redd said, not really embarrassed because he’s.. Well, Redd.

“Why don’t you just say so?” Tom asked as he somehow managed to pull down his pants.

_._._

After giving Tom a decent blowjob, Redd had gotten him another snack.

“Have this while I’m gone, so you don’t waste away.” Redd chuckled as he said that to Tom, which just earned him a scoff.

“-And don’t miss me too much.” Redd promptly added before walking away.

“Trust me, I most definitely won’t!” Tom yelled after him.

Tom finished off all calls and paperwork he had to do for the day and leaned back in his chair, rather satisfied with himself as he ate the big slice of cheesecake and coffee Redd had gotten him.

He sighed softly and put a paw on his already pretty chubby belly, he felt bloated and honestly a little heavier than he was used to but he didn’t mind. It was probably the lack of movement as he didn’t walk to work or play with the boys. He had to rely on Redd to help him around the house, which seemed awkward since Redd was such a twink and he himself was probably almost twice as heavy as the Kitsune.

He actually hated being dependent on Redd, however he couldn’t do much.

After a little while Redd came back with the boys who rushed to the kitchen to eat dinner and Redd walked to Tom’s office.

“Hiya, Nookie! You wanna eat dinner on the kitchen? Need help to get there?” Redd asked.

“I would..” Tom said as he leaned onto the table for some support to get up, then leaned onto Redd. They both managed to make it to the kitchen and Tom plopped onto a chair opposing Timmy.

“How was work for you two?” Tom asked softly. Tom usually disliked showing vulnerability to other people, even Redd at times but that was slightly different with the boys, he wanted to be the best father figure for them, despite them being his employees. Afterall they were still kids and needed guidance in their life.

“Good! We’ve had lots of customers.. Customers.” They both said in unison.

“I’m glad.” Tom said as he ate his dinner, trying his best to ignore the Kitsune.

“You two want to watch a movie later?” Tom asked his boys. He felt guilty for being unable to play with them so he hoped watching a movie would make both of them and himself happier.

“Sure!” They replied.

_

After a couple of months he finally could walk again and go back to work, he wasn’t supposed to lift up heavy things still.

He took a shower the day prior and was getting ready for work, feeling good about himself again.

Redd watched his chonky boyfriend put on his khaki shorts, he noticed Tom struggle getting them over his hips. Oh shit, there was no way Tom was gonna get them buttoned.

“.. Redd? They don’t fit.” Tom said, deciding that maybe He’d have more luck with his work shirt.

He managed to get the two upper buttons buttoned but not the rest.

He looked a little panicked at Redd, who didn’t know what to do either. “.. What if you wore a sweater? It’s not that warm yet-“ Redd suggested.

“I guess that could work..” Tom said as he looked through his closet to get a sweater with the Nook Inc logo on it.

Redd despised the logo at this point, really.

The sweater fit, but it was really tight and giving Tom a muffin top along with the pants he was wearing. He didn’t have much time to worry about that right now as he had to head to work. Pretty ironic that this happened to the man making people wear their work uniforms because “clothes are a big part of business.”

In the mean time Redd headed to the Sable Sisters to make sure to get Tom some bigger clothes.

Tom was a little out of breath when he walked to the Residential Services, he opened the door and just sighed. He pulled down his sweater and walked into the backroom where Isabelle was waiting for him.

“Good morning, Tom!” She said as she handed him his coffee.

���Good morning and thanks for the coffee! Yes, yes.” Tom said, his stomach growled again and it also hurt.

“Seems like somebody is hungry! I made you some “welcome back ”cookies!” Isabelle said as she handed him a plate.

“That’s splendid, thank you.” Tom replied, before blushing a little. “Do you know whether we still have.. Err, bigger sized work uniforms?” Tom asked.

“For what?” Isabelle asked, pretending to be oblivious. She of course noticed how much bigger the Tanuki looked, he was so chunky and it surprised her.

“I put on a few and this.. Isn’t exactly the most comfortable outfit.” Tom said as he tried to pull his sweater down again.

“See for yourself! I’m pretty sure there is something at least.” Isabelle said and smiled at Tom.

Tom sighed as he went to the work uniform shelf and looked through various shirts, to his luck he found the exact same shirt he owned just a couple sizes bigger. He immediately slipped it on along with a pair of khaki shorts he had found.

To his surprise the shirt was a little loose on him.

Isabelle was already at the desk, working.

He walked to his own desk and plopped on the chair, which creaked under all the new weight. While doing his usual work he ate the cookies Isabelle had made for him and downed several cups of coffee. Occasionally He’d get snacks from the vending machine but he was still so oddly hungry.

He felt a little exhausted at the end of the day and especially after his walk home. Getting pampered by like everyone really affected his already in first place wide waistline, but now he was getting lazier too.

“Good evening, Nookie!” Redd said as Tom came home, he obviously noticed the change in attire and how bloated Tom looked. Despite being so bloated, Tom’s stomach growled.

“You sure you want dinner? You look like you just feasted. My, my, Nookie~” Redd teased, he just really wanted to unbutton Tom’s shirt and feel how much Tom let himself go.

“Busy and stressing day at work to be honest.. Isabelle made a lot of cookies for me as welcome back gift or something. I’m actually quite hungry though.” Tom said as he patted his belly.

“I’m not surprised.” Redd said as he practically shoved Tom into the kitchen. “It’s still a bit until dinner but I made you some cake.” He told him.

Tom lazily sat on a chair, “thanks, hmm.” He said as he ate a slice and then another.

“Do you want some coffee?” Redd asked.

“Sure.” Tom said and leaned back into his chair.

Redd put the coffee onto the table and smiled at his boyfriend. “There you go, Nookie~” He said.

Tom grumbled but drank his coffee.

What he didn’t know was that Redd had put some melted butter along with the milk and sugar in there, so he’d have a bigger boyfriend much faster.

Eventually the kids arrived and they all ate dinner together. After that they played with Tom and Redd, it made Tom happy that he could be there for the kids again.

Tom had brought them to bed at around 21 pm and then made his way to Redd’s and his bedroom. Tom’s stomach growled and he sighed softly as he sat on the bed, which creaked slightly under his weight.

“I got you doughnuts~” Redd mused, as he handed Tom the box.

“Thank you, yes.. Ye-“ Tom yawned and began eating a couple of doughnuts.

“Can’t stop eating lately, am I right, Nookie?” Redd teased as he unbuttoned Tom’s shorts and shirt and began rubbing his belly.

“I told you to stop calling me that since months now.. “ Tom complained and he would’ve pushed Redd away if he weren’t so godforsaken tired.

“Too tired to properly move?” Redd teased.

“Just.. Shut up for once, hm.” Tom huffed, as he closed the empty doughnut box. He then also drifted off to sleep, with Redd rubbing his belly gently.

After a couple months the Tanuki had to size up. . Again. It seemed that both Isabelle and Redd loved to pamper him.

His gut was well hanging over his waistband and he was way lazier and more easily exhausted.

Isabelle was closing off the shop and then walked over to Tom, playing with his hefty and bloated belly. Earning several moans in pleasure from him, he was so stuffed that it felt good to have somebody with his belly.

“It’s softer than I expected!” Isabelle said, smiling at the Tanuki.

“Yeah.. Everyone says that, hm.” He just replied, making no effort to fight her as it felt good.

Isabelle chuckled and patted the Tanuki’s soft tummy.

[twokinkybeans]

Popsicle [Starker]

Summary:  Tony sees Peter at a kink club; bound, blindfolded, gagged and whipped and Tony... God, it messes with his head. It sure makes working in the lab with Peter a whole lot more difficult.

Prompt: Written for the following prompt by @Kaydu on AO3/Discord (so all credits for this amazing idea go to her)! Post resurrection Tony runs into Peter at night unintentionally. At a kink club. Blindfolded and gagged and being whipped across the back while mounted on a St Andrews cross and then forced in his knees to suck off the Dom where he is humiliated by slurs and insults and Peter doesn’t know at first that Tony saw him there doing that until after a few weeks of Tony acting particularly odd in the lab working together.

Warnings: Nff, kink, bdsm-themes. Mostly Peter and Tony just really like each other. Peter Parker is depicted as an adult.

Find on AO3 here!

-

Popsicle: Tony knows this is probably not one of his brightest ideas but he really needs to blow off some steam. He’s not here looking for a hook-up; not that he’d decline if someone were to offer it of course. He just needs a change of scenery. And this, well, this is his favorite scenery. When Tony walks into the club an instant smile works its way onto his face. The familiar sounds surround him. The slow, sensual beat of the music playing in the background, but also the moans, the happy chatter, the whips cracking in the distance. It’s home to Tony.

He heads straight for the bar and orders a strawberry daiquiri like he always does. It’s nice, the sweet sting of the fruit mixed with the bitterness of the alcohol. He doesn’t want to start on the club’s fine selection of whiskey right away.

Tony ignores the way the bartender looks at him when he orders. He’s used to the stares by now. People don’t know how to treat him anymore. After almost dying to save the world, they simply are too impressed or scared or weirded out by him. He doesn’t like the godlike devotion some people have decided to give him, doesn’t like how he makes conversations fall silent where he passes. But, he decided a couple of months ago, he won’t allow himself to succumb to the feeling. He’s got his little Avengers family to keep him company. If this is the price he has to pay for saving the world, he’ll happily endure it. He has the idle hope that things might return to their previous way of being, and until then, he’ll try to pretend they are. One of the things he used to do was residing at the bar in this particular club and enjoy the scenes unfold in front of him. So that’s exactly what he’ll do today.

There’s actually quite the number of scenes going on right now - the biggest one happening on the stage in the middle of the room. A familiar-faced Domme, a regular probably, is teaching a shibari workshop. Her sub, a sweet-looking young woman is definitely enjoying both the ropes and the public’s attention. They even let some of the folks in the audience try their way around the knots as well. Then, in the back and the sides of the room, there are some smaller scenes taking place. Wax play, not one of Tony’s favorites, and some bootlicking, also not one of his favorites. No. Tony’s attention is drawn by the scene taking place almost in front of him. A cute, young twink is bound to the St. Andrew’s cross. The sub’s back showing angry lines of where the heavy flogger had kissed the skin. The boy is shivering, moaning, pleading for more through the gag that’s in his mouth. He’s blindfolded, too. The Dom, a tall, muscular blonde grins as he gives into the subs pleas more than happily and lowers the flogger once more. Tony shifts on the barstool to give his already growing erection a little more space while he keeps watching. God, the sub… He looks amazing. Not too tall, strong muscles gliding underneath the smooth skin every time he arches his back. Tony loves the cute, firm little butt too. If he were the one holding the flogger he’d definitely redden the pale cheeks some more. As would he give special attention to those probably very sensitive thighs. With his legs spread in the cross like that, Tony doesn’t even need a lot of imagination to see how pretty his legs would shake. The twink sure reminds him of… No.

Tony’s nostrils flare slightly and he sips at his drink in an attempt to cool himself down just a little. Ever since defeating Thanos a little over a year ago, he hadn’t gotten laid once. With people being squeamish around him he had no chance, and even if people weren’t weirded out by him, they were by the fact that he had a fully operative, natural-looking prosthetic arm. The neurofeedback allowed it to work as a regular arm- so much even Tony tends to forget it’s a fake one. He sighs. He hasn’t even shared a simple kiss with someone since it happened. His body doesn’t like it. It’s starting to protest the lack of touch. Maybe he should find himself someone tonight after all. Get it out of his system. He knows it’s idle hope, but the thought is nice.

Tony finishes his drink and is just about to make his way into the more crowded area, when the Dom in front of him unties his sub. The boy turns around, and-

Tony blinks. Once. Twice. A third time. He can feel the blood drain from his face and somehow simultaneously rush south. There, right there, is no one other than Peter fucking Parker. His friend. His colleague. His mentee. Tony has to bite back a moan because everything about Peter makes him want to claim him for himself. His disheveled hair, his rapidly rising and falling chest, his hard cock… not too big but standing up hard and proud between his legs. He’s still blindfolded though. And a ring gag is causing him to drool all over his chest. He looks so fucking filthy. Tony has no clue how to deal with this. How to deal with… Goddammit. He thought he was over his attraction to Peter. The 21-year old and he hadn’t been able to meet much lately and it’d done wonders to Tony’s unhealthy crush.

Guess he fooled himself.

He’s frozen in place. He would never interrupt a scene. Never. No matter how much he wants to do it right now, he is not going to break the rule he set for himself all these years ago. Plus, it’s club policy. Peter obviously consented to this scene and Tony interrupting would only cause embarrassment for all parties involved and could throw the boy into the deep end of a sub drop. No. All he can do is watch. Watch and pray Peter never finds out.

---

Making sure Peter never finds out didn’t seem too difficult of a task. Tony is soon proven otherwise though. Working with the kid has never been as challenging. Every time Tony lays his eyes on him he remembers Peter’s mouth working around the other Dom’s shaft. Eagerly sucking and worshipping it without fail. The image is branded into Tony’s mind. He can’t unsee it, no matter how hard he tries.

Today, Tony is certain the universe is taking its revenge on him somehow. Making him pay for all the bad things he’s done in his past, probably. Peter is naked. Naked. Right there. Right in front of him. Sucking on a fucking popsicle almost the same way he sucked on the man’s cock that day. He’s chatting happily, making innocent jokes and laughing as Tony works his way through the suit to find the one error that Peter can’t seem to fix by himself. Friday hasn’t detected anything wrong so the glitch is probably a crack somewhere in the nano sections. He’s trying to find it, really, but Tony has never had this little focus before in his entire life. He stares at the suit. At his own fingers checking and rechecking every fiber of the supple yet strong material to find the crack. So far, no luck. He forces himself to not look at Peter. To try to ignore him. To-

“Mr. Stark?” Tony looks up instantly and mentally curses himself for his lack of self-restraint. “Mmh?” Peter sucks on the popsicle, licking off the drops threatening to fall off, before he speaks again. “Am I… Annoying you? Should I go and wait somewhere else until you’re done? I don’t want to disturb you and-” “No. Stay.”

The words are out of Tony’s mouth before he realizes his mistake. He stays silent. Doesn’t even try to cover up because he knows it’s no use. Instead, he lowers the fabric of the suit and rests his hands on the surface- waiting for Peter to speak. It takes a while. “Mr. Stark…” Peter starts and puts the popsicle down onto the plate he used not more than an hour ago for his daily 5-layer sandwich lunch. “I… I should’ve told you. I’m so sorry.” “What?” Tony asks, thoroughly confused. Out of everything Peter could’ve said, this is not what he expected. Peter fiddles with his hands and drops his gaze to the floor. “I know you saw me.”

Tony’s brains sure as fuck short circuit right there and then. What? Peter continues before he has a chance to speak. “My Spider-senses. They recognize people that I’m close to. I… I knew you were watching me, eh, the entire time.” “Peter-” “I liked it. I liked that you were there. Made me try extra hard.” Peter licks his lips and stands up from his chair then, slowly striding towards Tony who is increasingly intimidated by the boldness of the boy. “I could sense how hard you were.” Another step closer. “How your breathing increased over time.” Closer. “How you rushed off after I made the Dom come in my mouth.” Peter hops onto the research table and his legs dangle playfully in the air. Tony can’t help but notice the slowly growing cock between the boy’s legs and he gulps.

“Peter,” he repeats, his mind startled and scattered and entranced by the plain sexiness in front of him. “Don’t you want to do the same to me, Sir?” Tony growls. Actually growls. Low, the sound reverberating deep in his throat. He bridges the gap between them and raises Peter’s chin in a rough but careful motion. “Are you a hundred percent certain you want to do this with me?” “Please,” Peter begs and Tony’s gone. His right hand finds its way into Peter’s messy hair instantly. Grabbing a good handful of those chestnut curls. The other hand wraps around Peter’s waist to drag him closer. Peter lets out a high-pitched moan, bucking his hips up. The moan is muffled when their lips crash together in one swift motion. Tony claims it. Claims it all. Suckling on Peter’s lower lip, tilting the boy’s head in the exact right angle. “S-sir, please. Please I need you so bad,” Peter babbles into Tony mouth and Tony’s entire system surges forward. His abdomen tingling with an increasing need to pound this sweet sub into oblivion. He can’t believe Peter has known all these weeks, all these weeks of innocent teasing and playfulness- god. The popsicle sure hadn’t been an accident. And the suit…

“The suit, pretty Pete, is it broken at all?” “N-no!” Peter squeaks and Tony grins, pulling back slightly. He moves a loose strand back behind Peter’s ear and basks in the hungry gaze right in front of him. “You little bastard,” Tony laughs and yanks Peter’s head back with a controlled motion. Peter gasps, his cock twitches, and his hands dig into the metal surface beneath him. “Everything for you, Sir. I did everything for you.” “Nngh, such a good boy. So eager to get my cock aren’t ya?” “Yeah, need it. I need it so bad.”

Tony carefully releases his grip on Peter before he moves his hands down hastily to undo the fly of his now way too tight jeans. He curses, muttering under his breath, as he slides it down. God, never in his life had he been more grateful for the weird habit of not wearing shoes inside the lab. Peter in return, shifts to lay down face-up on the table. His head tilted to the side and oh fuck oh fuck Tony knows exactly what he’s offering right there. He kicks his boxers off too and strokes his achingly hard cock a few times to release some of the tension that had been building up over the course of merely a minute. Peter follows the motions with his eyes and bites on his bottom lip. He then looks up at Tony with the most innocent and at the same time filthy gaze Tony has ever seen in his entire life. This boy will be his undoing. “Open up, baby,” Tony grunts and Peter complies right away. His lips part in a perfect seductive O-shape and Tony takes a step closer, his cock now dangling in front of Peter’s face. “Come on, suck it honey.”

Peter has to crane his neck even more to properly reach it and he does exactly that. Tony’s legs nearly give out when the soft, hot, wet lips wrap themselves around his way too sensitive flesh. His pelvic floor muscles jerk involuntarily- his dick twitching as a result of it. It only makes Peter moan and slide down onto the shaft more. His tongue is fucking heaven, smooth as velvet and so hot, playfully circling the head of his cock. Around, up and down, the tip of Peter’s tongue teasing the slit and Tony can literally feel precum oozing onto the boy’s tongue. “God, aren’t you a filthy little thing,” Tony breathes. His voice is rough and shaky and he loves how it has Peter’s cheeks flush a bright red. “You like having your mouth stuffed?”

The boy nods as much as his current position allows him to and it sets off yet another heatwave throughout Tony’s abdomen. He knows he won’t last long. Not with Peter, beautiful, innocent, perfect Peter who looks so content pleasuring his newfound Dom. Tony decides the boy deserves the same amount of pleasure he himself is experiencing right now. While one hand reaches up to Peter’s neck to support it and keep it from straining, the other moves towards Peter’s hard and now leaking cock. His calloused fingers wrap around Peter’s delicate skin and he slowly moves it down. Peter’s uncut, and the movement allows for the beautiful pink head to be revealed. Peter’s hips buck into the touch, the kid’s nostrils flaring wide as he chases the pleasure given to him. “You deserve this, pretty boy, deserve to have your cock milked by me. You’ve wanted it for so long now, so take everything I’ve chosen to give you.” Tony has never been this vocal during sex but the words just keep coming and coming without stop. “Gonna show me every inch of your pleasure as I’ll make you cum. It’s mine. You’re mine. My sweet, sweet Peter.” “M-m!” Peter whimpers around Tony’s cock still pounding into his mouth relentlessly. Tony moans out loud, his hips and hand speeding up in the same rhythm. He’s desperate. Desperate for release. Desperate to see Peter’s eyes roll back as white stripes of cum stain his ripped abdomen. He wants Peter filthy and used and then coddle him back to reality.

“You close yet? Ready to show me how adorably your cock will surrender to me?” Peter hollows his cheeks now, sucking and looking up at Tony teary-eyed with happiness and belonging. Tony feels equally surprised by how well their bodies seem to fit together, as if they’d never done anything but this. As if it were meant to be. For a short moment, Tony pulls his cock out of Peter’s mouth. The cold air makes it sting a little and he loves how Peter’s head moves forward in a futile attempt to chase it. “Beg for it, Peter. For everything,” Tony hisses and Peter doesn’t even need a second to think before he complies to Tony’s order. More than he ever deemed possible from the supposedly innocent young adult. “Please please please Sir, please, I want to taste your cum in my mouth. Want it to drip past my cheek because I can’t take it all. Want to show you how amazingly good you make me feel, want to gift you with my cum. Please, Sir. Please take everything you want from me. Plea-”

Tony shoves his cock back past Peter’s lips and enjoys how it muffles the rest of the boy’s plea. His hand around Peter’s cock speeds up. Faster, and faster, as he pounds faster into Peter’s mouth as well. The movements fall into a steady rhythm that has both men lose their minds in ecstasy. “Peter-Peter, I’m so close. Gonna fill you up so nicely. I’ll give you exactly what you so desperately want. Want my cum to mix with your drool and watch how it slips past your plump lips.” Tony just- god. Oh god. He can’t. He can’t stop it anymore. His dick tenses, jerks. An all-consuming pleasure starting at the base surges through his entire cock, drawing his balls tight and he collapses forward as wave after wave after wave flows through his entire being. Hot spurts of come stain Peter’s wet tongue and the boy is whimpering like mad, the sound echoing right through him like a song stuck on repeat. For a moment, Tony is completely disoriented. The boy’s suckles slow down as his cock softens up inside the kid’s mouth. The gentle, kissy feel of it has Tony shiver.

“F-fuck,” he chokes out and lets his thighs now rest against the edge of the metal table to support himself while his hand still pumps Peter’s cock like a fucking machine. Peter’s legs are shaky, too. Toes curling and uncurling to release the tension that is so obviously building inside his body. He’s wound tight like a spring ready to jump into action. It’s only a matter or seconds now. The boy’s whimpers and whines and breathy gasps are mingling together into a sweet symphony of plain and simple bliss and Tony wishes this moment would never ever end. But his desire to make Peter lose it wins out. “Come for me, boy. Show me how desperate you have been for me all this time. Give it to me all, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Lose it baby, and I’ll catch you.”

Peter’s body literally trashes on the cold surface. The pent-up neediness finally finding a way to release itself. Peter cries out, his eyes open wide as his lower body shakes with every single eruption. The cum stains his hard chest and stomach beautifully. Tony watches mesmerized. He’s seen Peter in the club, but that’d been nothing. Absolutely nothing compared to the view in front of him right now. “M-Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbles, moaning, repeating the name over and over again until finally his body goes entirely limp. Tony sucks in a sharp breath, carefully unwrapping his now sticky fingers from his hold on Peter. He moves his hand up, trailing, smearing the cum even further across the smooth skin of the boy’s chest. All the way up to his nipples and more, until Peter’s soft and reddened lips suck a hint of his own cum from Tony’s fingers. “Hey baby,” Tony murmurs. His free hand has crept up to Peter’s face to caress his cheek gently. Peter shivers underneath the touch and another, soft, weak moan rises from his chest. “Mmmm,” he breathes. “-‘m feeling so nice.” Peter’s speech is clearly slow and slurred and Tony smiles down at the boy happily. He feels fulfilled in a way he’s never experienced before. “Good boy,” Tony replies sweetly and he leans in. Carefully, he presses his lips on top of Peter’s forehead. Kissing the skin again, and again. Gentle. Caring. His body filled with a need to protect and spoil this beautiful creature now that he’s no longer caught up with the need to release. “Come, lemme carry you upstairs.”

Peter perks up at that. “Y-your bedroom?” “Yes, why?” “Mmmmh, nothing. Nothing. I’m just very very very happy.” Peter giggles and rolls to his side a little. Tony cracks a smile. He knows what Peter meant. Knows that Peter knows that Tony has a strict rule of not taking people to his bedroom. It’s an unspoken promise. Something they’ll discuss later. Not now. Now, he’s going to spoil this boy to no end, wrap him in the softest blankets and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he’s fully back on Earth. He slides his arms underneath Peter’s unresisting figure and lifts him up bridal style. The boy nuzzles his face into Tony’s neck. Cum is dripping from him, against Tony’s shirt and onto the floor but he couldn’t care less. “Mr. Stark?” “Yes, sweetness?” “You owe me another popsicle.”

Tony laughs.

[hcpefulmarshmallow]

Anonymous said:

Once i saw a video on youtube explaining a certain "anime character type", and it compared Akechi with Nagito. (I dont remember the other characters the video mentioned) what are your thoughts about it? Do you think they're similar?

You know, Anon, the dumb lizard brain that governs my every impulse wants to point at them and say: “mentally unstable twinks with great hair and a Very Heterosexual rivalry with the protagonist” and call it a day. Here’s the thing, though: my feelings about Akechi started strong and stayed that way throughout my Persona 5 experience, though the nature of those feelings has changed drastically since my first impression. (And I quote: “Who’s this Light Yagami-looking motherfucker? No, I don’t trust him. That smile is the last thing someone saw.”) And I want to talk about him. I also never don’t want to talk about Nagito. So you know what? I’m gonna. 

 Spoilers, by the way. 

    ---

 In short, I do feel they fall into a very specific character archetype. Namely: the morally ambiguous foil to the main character. Not a villain, not a hero, but rather somebody who follows their own moral code. With a dash of insanity, of course, because anime gonna anime. 

 For me, their most intriguing similarities run deeper than a trope, however, and it all starts with this inflated sense of self-importance they seem to share. I know what I said, just go with me on this one. 

 Nagito, at a glance, seems to have the very opposite of an ego. Forever putting himself down, calling himself all kinds of worthless, and willingly throwing his very life at every cause that comes his way. But herein lies the contradiction that defines him as a character. For all his espousing that the hopeless may never be hopeful, he still leaps at the chance to become worthy. He wants so badly to be more than he is, that he struggles to see a world outside his own perception. He is, of course, compassionate and empathetic; but, unlike Hajime (or even Joker), whose talent with people comes from their respective abilities to remove themselves from a situation and see it as someone else would in order to make a moral judgement, Nagito cannot fathom a world that doesn’t conform to his ideals. Hope and despair, good and back luck -- and there he sits in the eye of it all, defeated yet somehow untouchable. He can’t watch someone trip three feet away from him without assuming his luck has played some role in it. 

 Akechi is much the same way, though he owns it a little better. He sees all things as means towards his ends. He has his idea of how the world and it’s people work, and therein lie his issues with Joker. Because he plays by his own rules, which are fundamentally incompatible with Akechi’s. Much in the same way as Nagito becomes fixated on Hajime, the Ultimate, talentless, worthless, most shining beacon of hope there is; Akechi sees how Joker is consistently beaten down by life and yet strives to carve his own path, and is unable to cope with either the jealously or the admiration he feels, never mind any combination thereof. Moreover, he, too, desires to rise above and be more than he is: the hero of his own story, despite taking rather unheroic steps to get there. 

 I would, of course, be remiss not to mention the similarities in their upbringings that lead to these insecurities. Nagito lost both his parents at a young age, and from there, we’re given no indication of any long-term adult influence in his life. Quite the opposite, he seems to have been demeaned and shunned by his extended family at large. It is also implied at times that his parents were not very loving, though there is some debate around that, so take it as you will. Akechi was abandoned by his father who deemed his mother beneath him because she was a sex worker, and was left with a seething hatred for the man because of it. After his mother’s suicide, he was passed from institution to institution, likewise having no long-term positive influence in his life.

 Both were left to, essentially, raise themselves; glean their own image of the world and build their moral compass around lives that were unimaginably cruel, ruthless, and unfair. Thus, it’s likely their worst behaviours could have been avoided, had they stable home lives. Of course, this is no excuse, plenty of people grow up in unstable environments and don’t go on to harm others, however, it places them a step above senseless. In fact, they also share an incredible intellect, charm, good looks, and quite the way with words. If you’ve played both games, you know what I’m talking about. 

 Furthermore, they have this habit of standing on the outside, looking in. Nagito spends much of DR2 implying heavily that he would like to spend more time with the others as their friend, but does little to actually reach out to them. Viewing himself below them, and seeing no reason why such incredible people would want to hang out with trash like him. Akechi also keeps the Thieves at a distance. There are many times when they reach out to him, offer to help him find his way -- and he almost seems to want to. Yet it is as if he doesn’t know how. He has no idea what, besides hatred and spite, could possibly fuel him. Nor does he really know what there is for him to gain from forming genuine bonds with others, or why he should want them. But he does, that much is clear. They each crave acceptance, while accepting it as a lost cause, even as the protagonist of their respective games has their hand out to them. And this, once again, can likely be traced to their equally terrible upbringings, and lack of any real understanding of the world as it is, rather than as they see it. 

 I could absolutely go on all day down this path. And, hell, at some point, I might. But the overall theme I’m getting at here, is this delicate balance these two characters walk. Being soft and charming, and deadly and dangerous. Intelligent, yet profoundly ignorant. Eccentric and borderline reprehensible, but at the same time, deeply relatable, and extremely likeable. They aren’t psycho for the sake of it, and I’ll argue that to my grave. But moreover, what we have here is the ultimate products of the worlds they were made for. Parallels are drawn constantly between Nagito and Hajime, Akechi and Joker, in a “there but for the grace of god go I” way, and it falls the same every time. Joker forged a home among friends, and people he considered family. Even after being hurt, he found the strength to be vulnerable for someone, and that someone happened to be the right someone; and though these people, he became stronger still. Likewise, Hajime took risks, took responsibility, and became respected and loved through hard work and compassion. He faced his own fear of worthlessness, and in the end, he didn’t fold to it the way Nagito did. He built his own purpose in life, and it was as full of hope as any Ultimate’s. These are feats beyond comprehension to our antiheroes, who may well have turned out to be the heroes after all if they’d only been shown the same support and care. And that’s why I think this character type appeals to so many people, and why these characters become so beloved. I think we become invested in their stories, and we want to show them compassion. There’s a reason why Nagito and Akechi are frequently shipped around, why they exist in so many fix-it fics. At the end of the day, we know the difference between bad people, and people who do bad things. It’s that, the latter may not be beyond saving. 

 And finally, can I...? If you’ve played the third semester of Royal, they really just make Akechi Like That, huh? In the original Japanese, he was apparently supposed to just come off as tired and not particularly wanting to mend any of his relationships or mistakes since he knew his death was looming, so I’m not sure why they took one look at this complex character development and said, “Hm, let’s just make him balls to the wall, shall we?” but hey. I’ve got to give it to his VA, I had to put down my controller several times because holy shit. Just. Holy shit. Give that man all of the awards. All of them, every single one, please. 

[neerasrealm]

POV: Jeff the killer kidnapped you and is venting to you about his internalized homophobia

I COULDN’T THINK OF AN ACTUAL TITLE SO I WENT WITH THAT

Anyway hi this is a jeffxben fic told from jeff’s POV. a little bit angsty but mostly just cuddles and comfort. and one-liners. lots of one-liners. The ending is a lil messy and idk man I didn’t know how to finish the fic so- ignore that

Based on one of these story starters.

Word count: 1907

There are three things you need to know before you read this.

One; hi, I'm Jeff. Nice to meet ya.

Two; I killed my parents three and a half years ago. I know that's a lot to dump on you immediately but it'll be important later.

And three….I'm...gay. There. I said it. I like guys. I'm attracted to men. I want to kiss guys. Or specifically- one guy. 

He has blonde hair, dark skin and bright blue eyes. And also pointed ears. He's a ghost, specifically one that's latched onto a Nintendo 3DS and a cartridge of Majora's Mask 3D. He looks like Link- but I'm not attracted to Link. Link is a twink and that's not my style. 

His name is Ben and Ben? Ben is a bro. He's my bro. He's everyone's bro- he has that natural charisma that makes everyone like him. He's friendly, polite, funny and laid-back. He's always down to hang out with you or invite you into his room to play videogames. Everyone likes Ben. But me? I love Ben. As in- love love him. I want to kiss his goofy face. His lips probably taste like cheetos and beef jerky. Gross. I hate how much I think about how his lips would taste. 

So now you're probably thinking "hey Jeff, why are you just vomiting your gay thoughts on me? Go tell him you love him."

But There's A Problem.

My parents- the dead ones- were really homophobic. Being gay just wasn't something you did. And it still feels wrong to me- which is weird considering the fact that my new adoptive parents are two gay men and my foster siblings are mostly homosexuals. But it still feels wrong. No matter how much I'm exposed to it I still feel that slight guilt whenever I catch myself admiring Ben while he trash talks someone, and I want to punch myself whenever I wake up from a dream about cuddling him. 

So that brings me to this situation. 

Picture this, okay? I'm sitting on his bed with a controller in my hand. We're playing smash bros and having a great time. I'm having...not a good day. You remember the dead parents thing? The trauma I mentioned? Yeah that's been haunting me all fucking day and I'm not feeling good. At all. And of course I'm not gonna tell anybody about it, because that means I have to address the problem. And I never, ever, address problems. Ever. They'll fester in me till the day I die. Like maggots.

That's gross I apologise.

But- yeah. I'm not feeling good and I'm hiding this fact from Ben because he cheers me up way better when he doesn't know I'm sad. 

"Hah! Gotcha!" 

"Shit-!" I swear as my character (king k rool, in case you wondering) flies off the stage. Ben laughs and woops beside me in victory. I shoot him a glare.

"Man you suck at this game." He laughs.

"I don't suck." I spit back. "You're just really good."

"Suuure you are." The smug look he gives me makes me wanna punch him. My hand curls into a fist in my lap. I grunt at him in response. He laughs and nudges me. "Hey it's alright Jeffy," I hate that nickname with the burning passion of a thousand suns. "You'll learn how to play soon enough."

"Lay off, man." I mutter back. I drop the controller and he snickers.

"Aww c'mon don't tell me you're rage quitting on me."

"Shut up dude just-" I shoot him an agitated look. "Just shut your stupid mouth okay?"

His smile drops. "Hey, you okay man?" Shit. He sounds worried.

"I'm fine." I grunt back. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. "Get off."

The hand withdraws. I hear him shift on the bed next to me. "Hey, dude-" he frowns. "Are you feeling alright today? Do you- need to talk or chill or…?"

I glare at Ben. He's being nothing but supportive and kind and what am I doing? Being an ass. "No I don't need to fucking chill." I growl at him. "I'm fine, alright? Just fine."

"Alright…" it's quiet for a bit while Ben turns off the game. Eventually he speaks again. "You wanna watch a movie or something? I'm tired so…"

This is a trick. He's tricking me into taking care of my mental health. Fuck you Ben, I'll be as mentally ill as I want. 

‘’I’m gonna go to my room.’’ I stand up and immediately get YANKED back onto the bed by my hood. Ben’s noodle arms wrap around my waist and hold me tight. ‘’Dude-!’’ this is getting a little tOO HOMO-EROTIC, BENNY BOY.

‘’Stay.’’ he murmurs. ‘’I wanna keep an eye on you.’’

‘’Why?’’ I snarl. ‘’Because I’m a stupid kid that can’t look after himself?! Huh?!’’

Ben flinches. ‘’Jeff-’’ he murmurs. ‘’It’s not that I don’t trust you it’s because I know that you need the company right now.’’ he frowns. ‘’Just- lemme keep an eye on you, alright…?’’

Fuck.

Fuck.

fuuuuUUUUUCK.

Why does he CARE SO MUCH. I HATE IT. I’m gonna slam my head into a wall. Gimme a minute.

…

Okay wall slamming accomplished. Back to my predicament. 

‘’Fine.’’ I grunt. He (unfortunately) lets go of me. It’s silent. And uncomfortable. I pick at my fingers. He tilts his head at me.

‘’So- anything you wanna do?’’

I wanna hug you and kiss you and tell you I love you please Ben I’m gay and homophobic at the same time. ‘’Not really.’’

Ben puts a hand on my shoulder and scoots closer. He rests his hand on my other shoulder and...oh god I can fucking smell his hair from here- that’s creepy. Why am I creepy. Actually don’t answer that one. He looks up at me, bright blue eyes shining with kindness. ‘’You wanna talk about it…?’’ he asks gently. Normally I wouldn’t talk about my problems. Ever. But Ben is giving me puppy dog eyes.

‘’...I’m just thinking about mom and dad.’’ I mumble. He nods. ‘’They- treated me like shit. And I keep thinking about the shit they’d say to me-’’ I look down at him. He nods encouragingly. ‘’It’s like...they fucking hated me for all the shit I did- and now I’m here and people are understanding? And Slender- is actually trying to learn why I’m like this? Like- diagnosing me and shit to try and help…’’ I frown. ‘’And I’m just thinking like- if they’d sent me to a therapist would it be different? If I’d just gotten diagnosed or something-’’ I shake my head. ‘’I dunno man…’’

He sits up a bit. He hugs me, pulling me against him. My face goes fucking red. ‘’Maybe things would’ve…’’ he murmurs. ‘’But we can’t change the past...there’s no magic ocarina to take us back in time unfortunately.’’ of course he made a zelda reference. Of course. ‘’We just gotta accept what we got now,’’ he smiles. ‘’And we got each other, right? That’s something to be happy about, isn’t it?’’

Oh god Jeff don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Not here. Not in front of the man you love. 

…

And you’re crying. Good job Jeff.

I’m not a loud crier. But I am a gross crier. I get all snotty and stuttery and can’t get my voice out properly. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and silently roll down my gross scarred face. Ben reaches over and brushes them off with cold fingers. He feels cold as he hugs me but I don’t care. I wrap an arm around him and tug him closer. I can feel his breath on my neck as he gently shushes me. He sounds so caring, so...loving. Like a parent should treat their mentally ill kid. 

‘’B-ben-’’ I stammer out. He’s rubbing circles in my back. ‘’I lo-’’ wait what am I saying. ‘’I l-love-’’ WAIT HOLD ON- ‘’I love you…’’

SHIT

FUCK

NO

WAIT-

He hugs me tight and I shiver in the coldness of his body. ‘’I love you too…’’ his voice is soft and gentle. I believe him. I believe that he loves me. Genuinely- like I actually matter to him. He’d miss me if I was gone. And that- that’s a lot. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like it wouldn’t matter if I disappeared off the face of the earth. You wouldn’t care, my parents wouldn’t have cared. But Ben? Ben cares…

Which is why I proceed to squeeze the life (or lack thereof) out of him and sob into his shoulder. He holds me tight until I’ve (kinda) calmed down. He pulls away and tilts my head up to look at him. As gentle and as loving as I’d dreamed him, he wipes tears out of my eyes. I sob horsley and stare at him. He cups my face in his cold hands and smiles down at me.

‘’There you go…’’ he murmurs. ‘’See? I knew you just needed to get it out.’’ he smiles at me. I just- told him I love him. And he’s not making a big deal of it. That’s good, right?? That means he accepts me- right?

Right...yeah. Yeah, Ben accepts me. Ben doesn’t judge. 

‘’Yeah…’’ I gulp and look away from him awkwardly. ‘’Hey uh- do you wanna-’’ I fiddle with my hands again. ‘’Do you wanna...watch a movie or something? Together.’’

He nods and smiles. ‘’I’d love to.’’

And so- we end up watching not one, not two, but three movies, late into the night. And the entire time he’s curled up in my lap, comfy as can be. As the credits on our last movie roll, he looks up at me.

‘’Hey Jeff?’’

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’I love you.’’

My face goes bright fucking red. I don’t need to see it, I can feel it. I bury my face in my hands out of embarrassment. I hear him laugh at me like the bastard he is. I shoot him a glare from in between my fingers. I want to say it. I really do. I want to tell him I love him back but- it’s- it’s hard. He reaches up and pulls one of my hands away, letting him see me.

‘’You don’t have to say it back. It’s okay. I know.’’ He hugs my waist and rests his head against my chest. ‘’I can wait...until you’re ready.’’

It’s at this point I start crying. Again. 

Ben shushes me gently and runs his hand through my hair. And...as I looked down at him- it finally clicked. I don’t have to put the shield up- not around him. Ben is different. Ben...Ben is good.

Yeah.

Ben is good.

I guess...the reason why I’m telling you this- well...not telling, I guess- writing. The reason why I’m writing this is because...I feel like it’s something important. I need to remember it because...it’s a step. A step in me learning to accept myself. It sounds corny yeah but- fuck off okay? I’m full of trauma and insecurities. I’m allowed be a little sappy.

I don’t know who’ll end up reading this- I mean I’m literally scribbling it into a notebook I found in his drawer. There’s only two people who I really want this to be seen by. Ben, because he deserves to know how much he’s affected and helped me, and two...my brother. Though I doubt he’d ever find this- heh- 

I...love Ben. And that’s okay. At least- to me, I think it is.

[whyaretheyfictionalcharacters]

Kinktober - Day 5

Ok so, second Sterek instalment. Good stuff.

Originally posted on AO3.

xoxo Lexi

“I don't think anyone is really taking this seriously”, Stiles comments, stepping over a tree trunk with the same grace Derek has just showed. Exactly the same. He flays around his arms a tid bit but apart from that? They could be mistaken for the same person.

Derek twists around and goes to help him. “Are you?”.

“Well, considering who thought about this you're damn right I am”.

The treasure hunt was Lydia's idea, a way to build in-pack relationships and create a more stable net of connections among them. If Stiles thinks her intention was to simply prove again to everyone else who's the smartest in the pack—he's certainly not going to tell anyone, he's not suicidal. And that's exactly the same reason he's taking this (honestly a bit ridiculous) relationship building exercise seriously. Or as seriously as he can take it, anyway.

“Lydia scares you?”.

“Of course she does! Doesn't she scare you?”.

“Oh, I'm terrified of her”, Derek answers with a frown. “And she's tiny”.

Stiles laughs, dried leaves crunching underneath his sneakers. “Don't let her hear you”.

“She's not a werewolf”. A small shrug. “Jackson is the only one around and he's at least a mile away”.

As they walk in silence, the only noise around them being their footsteps thudding on the ground, Stiles finally finds some appreciation for the quietness of the preserve. Being here with Derek, letting their shoulders and fingers brush against each other after the messy few weeks they've had with threats in the supernatural world feels comfortable and surreal. And probably it's his leftover-teenage hormones speaking but he can't wait for this treasure hunt to end so Derek and he can run off to his room and blow off some steam. Or blow off something else. That does sound like a plan.

His dad would not come back until later that night, probably after dinner, and that'd give them – Stiles calculates quickly in his mind – five hours to get funky, to jelly roll. Scrog a bit and schtupp together. To take old one eye to the optometrist. To play hide the salami. To dip Derek's cookie in Stiles glass of milk. Numerous times, if the werewolf's refractory period gives any clue. They could start small; make out on Stiles bed and test the sturdiness of the frame – which they've already done, by the way and sneaking out a broken bed slat out of the Sheriff's home is not as easy as it might sound. Which doesn't sound easy. At all. So one can only imagine the uncomfortable conversation he's had to have with Mrs Wunderby from across the road – and then get rid of their clothes because Stiles is a selfless person and Derek's body is something that needs to be cherished and admired. Keeping it clothed would be like...like clipping wings off of a mighty eagle. Or shut down the Smithsonian. It'd have that much of a cultural backfire. It'd be immoral.

So Stiles would take Derek's clothes off and admire that chest of his, all wide and muscly and warm and furry in a sexy way. He'd dip his hand down to follow the line of hairs to his navel, go over it and open his jeans because if unclothing Derek's chest is a cultural aid for the entire state of California, than the sight of his cock is a spiritual experience.

Derek Hale is big. Not impossibly big – Stiles is sure he doesn't live in one of those ridiculous stories people read with enhanced and horse-sized dicks – but nevertheless he's...gifted. Must have something to do with those werewolf genes of his and if that's the case, dear Mother Nature, wolves are a gift to them all. What turns on Stiles though it's not just the size of his shaft – still has a pretty high place in the list of 'Reasons why Derek Hale is a gift from the gods and Stiles is grateful he's his boyfriend' – it's the utter difference there is between the two of them. And that's not a euphemism about his own cock, Stiles is pretty content with his genitals, no complaints there. No, that's not it at all.

Stiles still remember when he recognised what the issue was and he probably has to thank Erica for that.

“You're such a twink, Stiles”, she had said once during their weekly coffee meetings and Stiles has seen enough gay porn after his surprising epiphany in high school to know what a 'twink' is. He's not oblivious, or his name would've been Scott McCall.

He had tried to deny that in front of his salted caramel frappuccino but as usual Erica had her own arguments. “You are, Stiles. You and Derek are literally the epitome of a bear-twink relationship”.

And God, was she right.

The werewolf might be only slightly taller than him but his presence is mightier, his shoulders wider and his arms definitely bigger. Stiles always feels dwarfed every time he's in close proximity with Derek and he does not complaint about that. Not. One. Bit. Dude can pick him up without breaking a sweat and fuck him against the wall as if he weighted less than a baked potato with bacon sprinkles on top. Jeez, those are good times. Hot times. As in Death Valley hot.

“Stiles”.

Surely they can do something like that today. There are so many options to spend five hours sexing up a werewolf Stiles gets a bit dizzy sometimes: this is literally his teenage dream, with no skinny jeans on and a comfy mattress instead of bedsheets forts in a motel room. Take that Katy Perry.

“Stiles”.

“What? Whassup?”, he asks turning to look at Derek.

Who is currently staring angrily at him. He seems pretty pissed actually, if Stiles has to tell the truth. Unfortunately he thought he had left all those annoyed stares and growled words in the past so this is turning out to be a shocking turn of events. In a not-so-sexy way.

“Uhm...Der? Everything okay?”.

Green eyes seems to struggle to not turn bright blue, flashing dangerously between the two shades. “Where's your head at?”.

Okay, this does seem like a trick question. Lydia taught me about this sort of things. “On my...shoulders?”.

Derek does not seem impressed. “You smell—you're stinking up the place”.

“Oh. Sorry”, he mutters self-consciously.

He thought Derek liked his smell. Sometimes he also finds him with his face deep into his own pillow when he comes back from the bathroom after Derek spends the night; or he would dip his nose along Stiles' neck while they're watching a film on the were's laptop in his apartment. When they're in public and Stiles thinks about sexy-times-ensuring things Derek always can smell him and he gets this intense expression that almost resembles his old…

Oh. Oh.

“Oh”.

“Yeah”, Derek agrees tightly as he steps forward. “Oh”.

“I think—I think my head is not taking this, uh. This treasure hunt as seriously as before, big guy”.

One step forward. “Really now?”.

“Mmh-mm”. Stiles steps back. “I mean. Can you blame me?”.

“I don't know. We were just talking about Jackson”. Another step.

Urgh. “Let's not mention him, deal?”. Last step backwards and Stiles' back hits the thick trunk of a tree. “I really don't wanna think about him and sex together. That's just plain wrong”.

He can see a gleam of amusement and coyness as Derek stops in front of him, face just inches away from Stiles'. “Oh, is that what you were thinking about? Sex?”.

“Uh, duh. I was thinking about, you know, when this stupid treasure hunt is other and we can go back to mine and the fact that my dad is going to be out for at least five hours – I know, I counted them – and we could, you know. Get some stankie on hang down—”.

“God, Stiles”. Derek's face scrunches up horrified. “No”.

“No? You don't like that? Okay, how about I ride your flagpole?”.

“Stiles”.

“Storm the cotton gin”.

“Stiles”.

“Hit a home run”.

“Stiles”.

“Sorry!”, he says with a small smile at Derek's exasperation. “Thought you'd appreciate the baseball reference. But another thing I was thinking was—”.

Derek glares at him. “I swear to God, Stiles. If you say one more—”.

“—you said Jackson is at least a mile away and we're all alone now”. Stiles looks down bashfully and hooks his finger in Derek's waistband. “And who knows when this awful thing is going to end. Might not have time when we get home”. Looking up from under his eyelashes he smirk a bit. “We could save time and...do this. Now. Here”.

 He sees a shiver running up Derek's arms just before they're placed on the tree caging his head. “You want to do it here?”.

“Yes”, he whispers.

“Now?”.

“Yeah”. A breath and a whimper.

He has enough time to think about the possibilities when a mouth descends on him and sharp, human teeth bite his lower lip, pulling reverently before nipping it. Stiles gasps when Derek's body presses up against his through the many, too many layers of clothes they're currently wearing. Derek takes that opportunity to slip his tongue between the other's lips, teasing the wet muscle and probing the mouth with deep, hungry movements.

“Lydia's—shit. Lydia's going to be so angry”, Stiles weakly comments before moaning as Derek's hips press against his, trapping him between his warm, strong body and the cold trunk behind him.

“Do you care?”.

“Fuck no”.

He snakes his hands underneath Derek's t-shirt, revelling in the heat of his olive skin, the softness of his hairs and the hardness of his muscles. One of the wolf's thighs gets between his own, providing some blessed friction for Stiles' awakening cock. He rubs himself against Derek, feeling the need to open his legs for him and the sensation of emptiness is starting to get too uncomfortable to be ignored as they're kissing. He's never been an exhibitionist (he thinks, though he's discovering all kinds of kinks in his relationship with Derek) but the idea of having the wolf inside him, right here and now in the middle of the preserve with the afternoon light out still, the terrifying possibility of the pack finding them out—it seems to be exciting in all the wrong ways.

“Derek”, he sighs, lips sensitive from beard burn. “I need—God—I need you to—to fuck me. Like. Yesterday”.

Derek's mouth descends on his neck and at the deep inhale of his arousal Stiles shivers, feeling like the teenager he used to be five years ago. “We don't have anything”.

AH! With a dramatic flourish – probably more ridiculous than dramatic. If only that Sourwolf would stop doing what he was doing with his mouth on his ne—oh. Oh, that's nice – Stiles takes out his phone from his back pocket and slips off the case. “Speak for yourself”. The small packet of KY seems to shine in their eyes, a little lost treasure, their own small miracle. “I think I have a rubber in my wallet as well”.

“Have you always had lube inside your phone case?”, Derek asks with a shocked expression. “And do we need a condom?”.

“Don't want to leak all over my underwear. Especially not around a pack of werewolves, thank you very much”. Stiles takes out a wrapper from his wallet and hands it to Derek before he resumes touching underneath the other's shirt. “And the answer is yes. From the moment we've started dating”.

They kiss, lips open and sharing breath. “Nice to know”.

“We need to—god—”. An aimed thrust sends shivers up his legs. “Derek—we need to move”.

He gets one of his hands down, slipping in the tight fit of Derek's jeans and the hard, big cock he touches through his underwear makes him moan and spread his legs as he leans back to push his hips outward. Stiles has touched it an endless number of times yet every time seems like a new experience, a new discovery.

At Stiles' touch Derek exhales, relieved and aroused. Those lean, slender fingers massage his cock with experienced motions and the grip they use after teasing it into full firmness is heaven for Derek's spurred mind. It doesn't matter if they're in the middle of the woods with a pack of werewolves only a mile away and probably listening in, the Beta can't help but await impatiently to be inside Stiles body and thrust into that heated tightness in abandonment. Maybe there's a part of him – the wild wolf that seems to constantly seek out freedom and nature – that is turned on exactly by that fact; the possibility of being found out while collecting his prize and marking his territory, his mate in the open.

The moment their jeans are undone and their erections brush against each other, Derek grabs Stiles slim hips and turns him quickly but not violently, his cheek now resting on the roughness of the bark and ass pushed back to rub on the wolf's cock. There's only their erratic panting for what feels like ages as Derek rips the lube open and then, “God, Der—Fuck me already”.

“I'm not gonna hurt you, Stiles. Especially not out here”.

“Then shove your fingers in me!”, he cries out turning at an odd angle to plead the wolf with his eyes. “Please, I need you inside. Right now. Please”.

Derek wants that. Oh, he so wants that. And from around that pale, sinewy body he can see Stiles' red dick skim slightly against the trunk of the tree. It can't be comfortable nor pleasurable and even though Stiles seems to have other things in his mind, Derek pulls his hips back a bit more to put more space between the delicate part and the pine husk. He doesn't spend much time warming up the lube and the moment his forefinger touches the puckered hole in front of him he sees Stiles jerk up before quickly settling down again. He prepared him as swiftly and efficiently as standing in the preserve half-naked would allow, Stiles moans and whimpers accompanying each thrust of his fingers.

“Please. Please, just fuck me. Just fuck me, Der”.

Through his lust-fogged mind Stiles hears Derek opening the condom wrapper and sigh deeply as he rolls it on. He wants to reach behind him and touch his shaft, feel the girth of it and its size. Wrap his fingers around it and when noticing he can't fit it all in one hand envelope it with his other one as well. He wants to feel its thickness opening him up, make him almost worry he's gonna split in two.

The first few inches are painful, they always are: Derek might not be overworldly big but he's certainly packing down there and every time he slips inside Stiles needs to relax, bear down and bite his lip until the head is in. It's what happens now, particularly because it's not the most convenient place to have sex despite the packet of lube and the arousal he gets from being so exposed to the elements. After the head is in though...that's when Stiles can remind himself why he craved it so much in the first place. Derek is inside him balls deep and at Stiles' nod he starts to move, thrust in and out. In and out. It's slow at first, careful but they do need to be quick in this situation. The aim is a bit off, the head of the hard cock pounding him simply caresses his prostate in the most heavenly torture sending abortive shivers up from his toes, shocking through his hips and reaching the tip of his own erection like an electric shock. Each thrust, each withdrawal forces moan after moan from his mouth, noises he can't control. Mumbling reaches his ears and with a small sense of amazement he notices it's him.

It's not the best sex they've had but Jesus if it's not the hottest. Derek's hand gripping his hips in a tight hold, his puckered hole contracting around the fat shaft sliding inside and out of him in pure abandonment. Derek slides closer, t-shirt covered chest shaping around Stiles' back, and the slight change of angle causes the wolf to groan in the brunet's ear. It's a sound so primal, so inborn in Derek that Stiles needs to close his eyes not to come right in that moment.

He's so close, though. So close. After getting used to Derek being inside of him without a barrier the rubber desensitises the feeling of being fucked a bit but it's not totally unpleasant; it's smoother and easier. Stiles doesn't know if it's the build-up, the idea of being out here in the forest in broad daylight or Derek's fat, big cock beating into him but he's about to come. He spreads the legs as wide as he can manage with the jeans around his knees and he almost brings his hands back to grab his cheeks and expose himself even further. He doesn't. He needs an anchor and right now the roughness of the bark on his fingertips, under his nails is the thing that keeps him grounded.

“Oh, my God. Der—Derek. Oh, God. Fuck me. Please, fuck me”.

“I am. Shit. You're gripping me so tight”.

“What if—oh, fuck. What if they see us? What if they find us?”.

Stiles senses Derek breath itch next to his ear. “Let them. You're mine. Let them see”.

Oh. My. God. Possessiveness is certainly a kink he didn't know he had. “Say that again”.

“You're mine. Let them see, I don't care. I want them to see. I want them to see you're mine”.

Oh God. Oh God, oh Godohgodohgod.

The orgasm hits him like a blinding light. His back snaps and he arches with the force of it, his cock pulsating and trembling as his cum sprays white on the dark bark. It's seemingly artistic in an erotic way. His insides constrict around Derek and through the condom he can feel his rod vibrate as his thrust become irregular. Slower. Deeper. He misses the sensation of Derek's come hitting his walls but he guesses they still have five hours if they leave now.

“Derek—shit”, Stiles pants out after they both regain their breaths, cheek still against the tree and hips still held by Derek.

“Yeah”.

“Who would've thought? Public sex is hot”.

“What the fuck guys?!”.

They both jump at the disgusted shout from behind them, Isaac currently standing there dumbstruck, hand on his eyes. “I'm gonna need bleach”.

Yeah. Maybe not as hot around a pack of werewolves.