#lets hope creating babies will tether me here

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 17

Tagging: @ophelialaufey@madamemaximoff06@forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

Oystein had finally settled into his new apartment and had just gotten off the phone with his dad about the last payment for the record shop. He had decided to step away from focusing on making the next record to follow another one of his passions. Helvete was his new baby and his record label would be working out of the shop to expand the Black Metal genre to as many people as he possibly could.

He sat at his typewriter and placed the photo Y/n had left him with the day they last spoke on the desk to the left. He kept the old photo of himself, Y/n and Pelle just next to that one. The day she slugged him and wrote him off, she probably would have been surprised to know that he kept that photo in the inside pocket of his jacket.

He stared at the photo for a few moments before putting a piece of paper into the type writer.

"Y/n, Please read what I have to say before you toss this into the garbage. I know it's selfish of me to ask for anymore of your time but you have to know that what we had, in the beginning, that was real. All of the moments we shared where I could be myself with you- if I could have lived in those moments again, I wouldn't change a thing. You were right though, we were always doomed to fail. Our paths are just too different. I want to apologize for how I treated you the night you came to the show. I know the first time I watched Dea-"

Oystein pulls a bit of white out from the drawer and covers the beginning of his name before resuming.

"I know the first time I watched Pelle cut his arms, it was fucked up. I had no idea what to do or how to respond to that. Honestly, I've never really experienced anything like that before Pelle. I knew I couldn't let him know that because I feared it would only make him retreat more. Your response to it was normal and I'm sorry I treated you like it wasn't. I also want to apologize for how I reacted to you in the bar that night. I can't pretend I wasn't caught off guard by the guy you walked in with but that is no excuse for how I came at you. In the time that I spent not hearing your voice or seeing your face, I tried to block out all the things you made me feel. I tried to chalk it up to us being too different or this life scaring you away but that day after Pelle killed himself...I know I fucked up Y/n. I regret everything I've ever said or done that has hurt you even for a second because the only hurt you ever caused me was my own fault."

Oystein sat back in the chair, reading over what he had already written and felt incredibly vulnerable. A part of him really hopes she just trashes the letter and doesn't even bother reading it.

"I've decided to take a step back to focus more on other passions. I have started my own record label and will be operating it out of that corner shop down from Hammed's shop. I know you probably think I've done this to torment you but I've had my eye on that store for years. I want to take the creation of Black Metal and show people what it can truly be. Not all that extra, commercialized bullshit that people think it is now. I've always wanted to do this but I want to show people what we worked so hard on, what Pelle and I worked so hard on."

Oystein looked at the photo again and wished Pelle could have been here for the birth of Helvete. He thinks that a safe haven where he would never be alone is something that could have saved him.

"I know I'm just saying a lot of things that don't really mean shit to you but you were a big part of what kept me believing in myself. I hope maybe you'll give it a second chance and stop by the shop. I would love for you to see what I've created and give you a new look at what I love so much instead of wishing for its demise. I know it will never be what it was before but I feel a piece of me will always be tethered to wanting what could have been between us."

Oystein hated everything he wrote almost immediately but he couldn't just keep starting over. He wanted to send this letter before the shop actually opened in case she decided to show up and put him on blast.

"I know you'll probably always hate me and I understand why you do. I just hope you'll find a small place for me in your heart to at least try and be a better person in your eyes. Please, give me a chance to prove to you that I'm not the heartless monster you think I am."

He read it one last time before pulling it from the typewriter and signing the bottom of it. He would never admit that he actually followed her home one night just to have her address to send her this letter. He would take that to the grave. He knew this was a bad idea but he desperately needed something to keep him grounded. The nightmares he had after Pelle were unbearable. He had never been afraid of dwelling in the darkness until Pelle killed himself. Now he was worried he would sink into the darkness never to be found again. He wanted Y/n to be the one who kept him from losing himself entirely.

yours, Øystein 

[sourstars]

yearning man; the cruelest condition | kuroo tetsuro.

giving hallmark with this one; soulmates who don't grow old until meeting?? sob. wrote in the same haze i did when i wrote midoriya’s. soulmate kuroo at his hopeless! if you find any mistakes please let me know!

He has learned, contrary to the belief of many, that he rather abhors the allure of red, but adores the particular shades of blue that morph from the original; ultramarine, cobalt, electric, sky, baby, periwinkle (which he believes should be considered more of a purple and probably is)—but his favorite for the last seventy years has been robin-egg blue.

He belives that in the time of looking for ‘the one’, he has discovered instead what makes life bearable. He likes his coffee black but with two sugars, sometimes three if he’s feeling risky, tea with sometimes too much honey, four pillows in bed so he has two to cuddle. He likes dogs, not as well as cats but has a certain endearment for his neighbor’s cocker spaniel, who seems to enjoy laying across his feet in protest whenever he visits, refusing to let him leave. He likes the routine of visiting the shops that open and close; the bookstore that burnt down and was rebuilt in defiance, the bar with the bartender who tells him really good jokes, the fabric store that trades gossip as well as wares. A maximalist to his core, but in seventy years, at least things would be there if someone wanted a list; what have you found, if not the other half of your soul?

(Not enough.)

(“I feel I could eat endlessly and still be starving.” He says, and Kenma waits for the punchline. “Because I feel what would nourish me is what has not found me.”

“I suggest you start writing poetry. You would be a hit with goths.” But his best friend would know him in every variation; he is a painting stripped of cover, in every medium. “You’re talking about your soulmate again.”

“Yes. There’s no comparison. None.”

“Giving up already?” Kenma smiles at that, laughs hard enough that his eyes squint and says; “And here I thought you’d strip the world to bone.”)

In truth, it is not for the lack of trying. He has spent every penny of his fortune and created another just to look into every face, buy every ticket, spend every hour creating a map of where you could be—he has been to every continent, every state, he’s sure nearly every city but another may always rise out a former’s grave. For a year he gave up searching, but a year turned into two and two into five and then Kenma sent him a picture of a stranger, who walked with a grace so familiar to him that he imagined he had lost control of his jaw.

And he imagines it must’ve been a fluke—that some things aren’t tethered to others the way people entertain, but then Hinata sends a photo, and then the Miyas, and the Tanakas, even the Haibas after. Everywhere he’s went, everywhere he’s not, you are there, dressed in his heartstrings. Perhaps this is his eternal punishment; knowing you want something so badly and never being close enough to grasp it.

(It is so strange, he thinks one night, to feel like the compass needle without direction. North, he knows, but the star is missing and he has been painting directions on kites, tacking fliers to all of the telescopes, hoping it will see.)

“It’s a little creepy to take pictures of strangers without them knowing. I’m pretty sure it’s also illegal.” Kuroo pinches a strawberry between his fingers, biting into it to the stem, letting sweetness coat his tongue. The longer he chews, he can feel the bitterness that will dry the throat. “I still think it’s just a coincidence. It won’t be just anyone, I’m sure I’ll know it when I see them.”

“Say it again and maybe you’ll convince yourself this time.” He can practically hear Tsukishima’s eye roll. “They’re definitely looking for someone. Hinata said they came into the bookshop just after you did and took a walk around the store but didn’t buy anything. I think you just have a broken radar,"

Kuroo’s mouth twists. “Are you sure it’s not just a shoplifter? Or just a coincidence? Hinata wouldn’t be able to see a criminal if they stood in front of him wearing handcuffs.” He pauses, mulling over his thoughts, listening to the thunder of rain outside of his window. “…That makes me sound like a dick—but the point is that I find it a little hard to believe it all comes together now.”

“You are a dick, but consider the idea the universe isn’t a total idiot. I’ve been trying to avoid my ‘other half’ for a month now and every time I think I’ve done it—wham! There they are, staring me in the face,"

“You ever hear about magnets?”

“Stop.”

“That’s literally what it is. You hate each other and can’t stop finding ways to eat each other’s faces? Magn—”

“Tetsuro. Kuroo. You need to go outside—you need to go outside right now. I’m looking out of my window, I think I just saw—”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“—them. Turning the corner of Third. They’re holding… two coffee cups?” Tsukishima falls quieter then, voice tough as steel. “My advice; stop being a coward. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong but at least you’d know. Life goes on. Go.”

He has the best and worst of friends. “Fuck. I hate you. Getting my shoes.”

(It has taken so much to get here. He hopes in the mail room of destinies, he is a package only slightly dinged, hopes he is something someone is expecting and still excited for.)

He’s forgotten his umbrella and his hair sticks flat to his head when he arrives, inky blackness falling in front of his eyes, but his feet continue to slam against cement, his phone bounces in his pocket, his heart skitters across his ribs. The drizzle turns to downpour, downpour to drizzle. It seems even Mother Nature has a heart unwilling to live so softly.

Each step, Kuroo thinks; life is like a box of chocolates; something is always missing and every version of the map leads you opposite of where you want to go. He thinks; regardless of anyone’s age, they will never know anything, or everything. They will always be surprised.

When he sees you in person, he almost trips; like a child that learns to walk, he has misplaced the knowledge. The air escapes his lungs, the words he’d muttered under his breath have forgotten his name; he believes now, his senses have moved out and are backed up on the rent.

You catch his eye when he turns the corner, waving with one to-go cup, and time begins again. “Hello.”

Kuroo stares into your face, mouth parted, raindrops sliding past his eyes, down his cheeks. He is speechless—this is what love must be, to be both lighthouse and ship wanting to dock and never knowing when you’ll find a harbor.

He thinks; he is too old to have lovesickness such as this. He thinks; he is too young to know the type of wanting that craters into his soul like this. He thinks; that is okay, he has the rest of his life to love and hate figuring it out. He is right.

“It’s too late now,” he says. He wrings his hands in front of him, feels the need to tap his shoe. “I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.”

You smile and he swears he hears music. “About time, second place.” He believes if the word sublime had a name, it would be yours. You are paradise sent, a catastrophically perfect being. A hurricane where he is perpetually in the eye. “I’ve been looking for you.”

(It cannot possibly be this easy.)

Kuroo hears the sidewalk traffic as people walk around you both, feels the cutting breeze, the firmness of the earth. It helps him breathe and yet scares him so. Life has a way of being unbearably real. “So I hear. You like blue?”

“Only this kind.”

“Interesting.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “I think I was made for you,” He feels he might hiccup up his heart. “I think we shared a star, once.”

Electricity, sunlight, supernovas, comets—none as bright as the sight of your half-lidded, knowing eyes, the unrestrained curl of your lips. He thinks that if he were to knit your hands, your thumb would brush the beauty marks on the side of his finger, over his knuckles, your wrists would kiss, the spaces of his body would fit yours.

It is quite impossible, he would’ve said, but he is a believer, now, of all things unblemished, all things unexplainable. He feels you could brush his soul with the pad of your finger and it would bring him to his knees.

(But maybe it is.)

The cups are placed into his hands, the smell of peppermint and vanilla, wafting. Your fingertips are hot, palms warm as they are softly pressed into his cheeks. You’re a breaths-width away, voice is twisted into song, and he bets the world has fallen from his feet.

“Finally.”

(He is hopelessly, endlessly, terribly devoured by the loveliness. It has been a vacation where he has painstakingly, wonderfully arrived home. He has never been this peaceful. Here’s the north star, he thinks, I was looking for it, and it was looking for me.

He will never love another color like this one again.)

reblogs are preferred and appreciated!

[shufflebuff-blog]

words

Well this is a weird time. I can't tell if I'm just manic or lonely these days. Lots of people who I CAN connect with, lots of people I SHOULD connect with, and the overwhelming unfathomable depth of people I don't connect with, despite that being the primary axiom these days.

So I write to the void, not for a pen pal but because I hope my words can give me some meaning when all seems upside down.

I invite myself own in the midst of mania, in the throws of struggle and I can't help but worry about who I may become. The human imagination is a limitless font of incredible beauty, but the risks dipping your toes in too deeply might make you see the youth in every direction. It doesn't always have to be a demon that's whispering into your ear, despite that's what you want it to be.

Instead of the negative kneejerk reactionisms, I'd rather move on to being slightly more enlightened. I think I am getting there slowly, but breakups break open who you were and leaves you to collect the pieces. Sometimes you don't always get put back together the right way, sometimes some extra pieces come along with, sometimes you're missing the edges and corners. But without a constraining edge, you can reach for new potentials, new limits, and opportunities to spread beyond the tapestry of who we felt we were destined to be.

I can't help but realize that I have been deeply unhappy for many years. The passion and the void, The obligated orgasms, the disappointing despair of a long that had long slipped through our fingers. It wasn't fair to you, but I never took the time I needed to be loved. There is nothing worse than the pillars you chain yourself to as the backbone of you penance, and baby, these pinnacles are piercing the heavens. Can I tear them down?

It's finally time to start taking agency in my own life, and my goodness Im doubling down on this hard. I can't help but worry that I won't land on my feet well, but I also wonder whether it's even worth the crisis of self worth. I know what I like, I know I can actually be happy with the world I've created and explored. I can have those vast deep conversations that rub the heartstrings in harmony. I can appreciate the suspended drops of dew amidst the the grass, the crystalline dessicated husks of life after the ice.

Despite all the shit, all the things that make you check under the bed at night, all the things that make you hope tomorrow never comes, I want to cut through my blackness, your darkness everyone's deep seated doubt. I want to hold your hand. And your hand (everyone gets a hand!). We're gonna step forward, not stand stationary, to experience this goddamn beautiful existence.

Take a look at the leaves and marvel at their immaculate perfection. Listen to the squabbled calls of the starlings, chirping and cawing a song from far away, made uniquely here. The log of a mighty oak, rotted and rooted, and even in its passing, life persists amidst it's decayed core, flourishing in uncountable denizens thankful for the shelter.

These chains of inadequacy, the tethers of doubt, this grip of a paralytic time will be shed, are being shed. Despite all this, I will rise and grow, even if it must be as an ephemeral amidst the concrete jungle. I will do good, we will do great, everyone will inspire and move

For if life has no meaning, that meaning is for us to define. The ties that bind and the joy that shines will carry us to the next season in this cycles of rebirth and decay. And in this next cycle, let's forge those chains, not that keep us tied down, but rather, tied together.

I miss this community, I miss every community left to rot, especially due not to our own actions. But rather the actions around us. Reach out. Find someone to talk to and tell them everything. It's the only way to get started in this next cycle. Much love from the Crunchy Granola Grandpa (TM).

[acestevenuniverse]

Uhhh,,, gem oc

Okay so i have one (1) gem oc i like and im posting her here now bc i want to get more interested in her in the future

Soo her name is citrine and her role on homeworld was similar to rubies, but instead of fighting theyre more like surveillance guards that secretly report everything to higher ups. So, theyd be used in more top secret areas.

These are some of her alt outfits, including a fancy dress she likes :33

I know theyre not vry creative but shes not rly the fashion type

This was my first drawing of her and a fellow citrine among a sketch dump. Shes kind of a downer and the citrines being kinda gossipy dont rly like her. Shes closer friends with the citrine next to her tho

Tbh i just want more short gems lol

So yeah if u want u can ask me abt her and ill make stuff up on the spot bc i havent thought abt her that much oop

Oh this is her gem btw

[thewayshedreamed]

Hello my lovely! Congrats on 800!! 💋 I have, of course, a smutty Elriel prompt for you. 😉 However, I can’t seem to choose between the two. So, how about you surprise me?

5. Just let me finish this/this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you finish at least three times.

Or

18. If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.

👅🥵

Hi, my dear Tay! As requested, here is some shameless Elriel smut for you!

I went with this prompt (I got the other one for Nessian, too, so I wanted to give this one its own)—

5. Just let me finish this/this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you finish at least three times.

I also combined this with a smut prompt from @achelois-daughter [thank you so much for sending it in!]— “I’ll think about this when I’m jerking off later.”

This is another one that refused to be contained to a word limit. You and @perseusannabeth broke me, but I'm not even mad about it. 

NSFW. At all.

[too many] words.

----

As much as Elain loved watching her boyfriend play pool against his brother, it was causing her some issues. For one, they were in public, so she was trying to keep from ogling him as shamelessly as usual. The game itself created some challenges considering he was often bent over the table, the muscles of his back rippling beneath his charcoal tee as he squared up his shot. The sight was enough to tempt her to slip her body between him and the table, to let him bend her over it, too.

"I know that look," a dark voice rasped. Elain blinked, realizing she had long since drifted into her vivid daydream.

Azriel stood in front of her, holding the pool stick in a loose grip to keep it from falling over. He tapped it mindlessly a couple of times on the bar floor and used his free hand to slide up one of Elain's thighs. She spread them to give him space, hoping his firm ministrations over her skin wouldn't send her toppling backward off the bar stool. She didn't bother with coy.

"We should go."

Azriel leaned in to nip her ear, his rough chuckle sending gooseflesh down to her toes. Her hands settled on his waist, but she couldn't promise they wouldn't wander the longer he stood there.

"The others will know why we're leaving if we go mid-game."

"That's fine," she challenged, leaning her head toward his affections. "Let's go. Please."

He pulled back with a glint in his eye that told her he was pleased with her manners. She wasn't above begging if that's what he wanted, but he wasn't that easily deterred. Azriel could be such a tease.

"Just let me finish this, and I swear I'll go down on you until you finish," he rasped. "At least three times." Dark promise was laced into his every word.

An embarrassing sound left her throat before he gave her a gentle squeeze and resumed the game. With each passing turn, Elain was dangerously close to walking over and shoving each pool ball into a pocket by hand. Finally, Cassian won, and they were shoving through the bar hand-in-hand toward Azriel's car.

His eyes were impossibly dark once they were inside. He gripped her by the back of the neck to pull her into a rough kiss, muttered a low curse, and turned toward the steering wheel to start driving.

Elain was almost squirming in her seat. The tension between her thighs was enough to snap, and with each passing minute, she had to resist the urge to run her hand below her waistband to take care of the ache herself.

As if reading her mind, Azriel gripped her thigh to bend her knee and prop it against the center console. His fingers trailed down the inside of her thigh, and without taking his eyes off the turn he made, he slid his hand beneath the hem of her skirt. His clever fingers dragged over the thin cloth of her underwear, and she bit her lip when they dipped beneath to stroke her.

"Fuck," he muttered, his dark gaze sliding to her and back to the road. "How long have you been this soaked, El?"

Her head hit the rest, her eyes rolling at the divine pressure he applied. She moaned into the quiet car, fighting the urge to ride Azriel's hand.

"I—" Her breath hitched at his increased pressure. She swallowed to compose herself. "I tried to tell you we should go."

"Baby," he chided. "You didn't tell me you were aching like this."

Her teeth pinched her bottom lip, her eyelids suddenly too heavy to keep open. Elain gave herself over to his soft ministrations while trying not to scandalize anyone driving alongside them. Traffic moved quickly, so her odds of being caught were low. Her luck had never been the best in that department though.

Azriel pulled his hand away slightly, but before she could let out a whimper of protest, his finger hooked the elastic of her underwear. He let it go with a soft pop as he rasped, “Get rid of these for me.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Shoving them down her legs, she pulled them from around her ankles and placed them in his outstretched hand without question. Azriel tucked them into the pocket of his jeans to save her any unintentional scandals the next time someone rode in his car. There was no chance she would remember to grab them upon their arrival at the apartment.

Azriel's hand returned to where she wanted him— no, needed him— the most. He parted her with his fingers, trailing down to tease her opening before pushing two fingers inside her. His eyes never left the road, not even when Elain looped her arm through his and dug her nails into the cotton covering his bicep. The muscles worked beneath her hand in time with his fingers, and something about the added sensation beneath her palm had her leaning her head against his shoulder as he worked her.

Elain's breath hitched when his palm tucked tightly against that sensitive bundle of nerves he'd teased before, and she turned her face to muffle her cries against his arm. Her restraint snapped, her hips rolling shamelessly of their own accord. She was already so close, and they hadn't yet managed the 15-minute drive. Azriel curled his fingers tighter, and the intensity of her pleasure had her free arm jutting out to grip the dash.

His breath was warm against her ear when he nipped the delicate skin, his voice gravelly when he asked, "Who are you holding back for, El? I want to hear those sweet little sounds you make."

With another thrust of her hips, her release taunted a blazing bath down her spine. Every muscle grew tired under the tension, and she gave herself over to it, leaning back in her seat and gripping the headrest with her hand. The other still pressed crescent moons into his skin, her whimper filling the car and her back tightly arched. Gods, she hoped no one was in the neighboring lane, but at least Azriel had the good sense to keep her skirt draped over his hand to avoid exposing her. Not that her blissed out expression left any room for imagination.

"Az," she cried. "Fuck. Please. I—" Did she remember how to construct a complete sentence? Did she care?

The heel of his palm ground harder against her, and she shattered. A string of incoherent sounds left her as she came, only interrupted by Azriel's deep groan at the way she pulsed around his fingers. Her hips rolled until the waves settled, her body trembling when he slowly slid his fingers from her. He brought his fingers to his mouth to clean them before adjusting his hardness roughly in his jeans, moaning shamelessly into the quiet. The sound made Elain's blood heat, and she reached for his lap, eager to bring him even a fraction of the pleasure he'd given her.

To her disappointment, Azriel stopped her and laced their fingers together. They pulled into the parking lot, and he whipped into a parking spot with a palm pressed against the steering wheel. The ignition had barely died when his mouth was on hers once more.

"I need to get you inside," he growled, sliding his tongue alongside hers.

Elain grew impatient and reached for him. Much to her irritation, he stopped her again.

"That wasn't the deal. I'm looking forward to having you come on my tongue." He winked and opened the door. The light of the car cast a glow over them and showed the mischief dancing in his bright hazel eyes. "That one didn't count toward your three, by the way." Elain wasn't sure she could manage three more, but she didn't dare discourage him.

With that, he stood and shut the door behind him. His legs carried him over to her door in only a few long strides before he was pulling her out of her seat and leading her to the door hand-in-hand. His urgency was the only thing that kept her wobbly legs beneath her while he fiddled with his keys and gained entry to the apartment. One quick pivot, and he had her against the wall inside, the planes of his body pressing deliciously into hers.

His kiss was sure, demanding. Elain could hardly keep up with how ravenous he was in seeking her pleasure, especially as his strong hands gripped her hips and guided her toward the table in the entry way. Without a word, Elain slid on top, sending various objects careening to the floor.

Azriel was on his knees before she could blink, his tongue parting her in a long, fluid stroke. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the table with one hand, and the other slid into his hair to allow her some tether to reality. He groaned at the feel of her nails scraping at his scalp, only spurring his eagerness.

Her thighs were perched over his broad shoulders, and his long, skilled fingers pressed into each of her thighs as he worked. He alternated between long sweeps of his tongue and flicks over her sensitive bud, and it only took a few passes to have her throwing her head back as she came again. He tapped her thigh with a finger, but he didn't say a word while he worked her down from her high. She guessed he had plans to move them; further evidenced by his standing, his powerful hands gripping her waist and hauling her body against his on the way to the couch.

He deposited her roughly beneath him, his hands firm and impatient over the curves of her body, her petite breasts. Elain whimpered at the loss of his weight when he eased onto his knees, tearing roughly at her clothes to bare her entirely.

"Fuck," he growled.

She could feel the heat of his gaze over every inch of her body. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, knowing the lean lines of her body tortured him and tested his self-control. His knowing gaze met hers while he draped her leg over the back of the couch and shifted back to lay on his stomach. To accommodate his height, he straddled the couch; one leg bent behind him and the other knee supporting his weight against the floor. Elain draped her other leg over his shoulder before he got the chance, filling his expression with sheer determination as he gripped her thighs and pulled her roughly against his face.

His grip loosened on the thigh draped over the couch, and his knuckles dragged delicately along the back in a teasing path. Elain keened at the contrast of his delicate fingers and the strong hold of his other hand, sending her in search of anything to hold onto as he teased her. While she appreciated the delay to give her body time to recover from two earth-tilting orgasms, impatience crept over her skin like a faint breeze. How Azriel managed to kindle both in her simultaneously, she would never understand. She would never complain, either.

Like a man starved, Azriel dragged his tongue in slow torment up her center and back down to her opening. The broad pad of his thumb pressed against her clit, earning a choked cry from deep in her throat. That pressure continued in slow, concentric circles while his tongue worshipped her in time. Elain dissolved into incoherent cries, chopped words and curses, and futile attempts to roll her hips. Azriel's other hand never let up its hold, and it was enough to keep her lower body resolutely in place.

All it took to send her over the proverbial edge was the slide of his tongue against her opening, the way he curved it just inside to press against the textured skin of her inner walls. Elain bowed under the force of her release, crying out to the gods as if it was enough to worship them through the echoes against the walls.

Elain relaxed the tension in the muscles of her back, noting the light sheen of sweat erupting over her body. Azriel applied grounding pressure to her clit while she panted, the fingers of his other hand tapping her thigh. Her eyes snapped open to see his eyes on her, and she tried to communicate with her eyes that there was no way she could manage another change in location. That was until she realized the motion of his fingers differed slightly from before, a gentle double tap against her skin compared to a single tap when she came atop the entryway table. The mischief in his eyes confirmed her suspicion and sent a spark of incredulity down her spine.

The cocky bastard was counting*.*

Elain wanted to be annoyed at his presumption, but who was she kidding? Azriel played her body with the skill of a musical prodigy. He knew exactly what he did to her and how often. The signals of her pleasure were imprinted within the steel trap of his mind, and all she could muster was gratitude for it.

She offered a sleepy, sated smile, running her stiff fingers through his dark hair. The kisses he pressed to her inner thighs were gentle, even though she noticed how his hips ground against the couch cushion. She cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over his elegant cheekbone.

"You're too good to me," she rasped, her breath hitching when his mouth pressed against her center.

Azriel grunted his approval. "I'm not done with you yet, baby."

Elain drew her bottom lip between her teeth and dropped her head against the couch. "Let me take care of you, too," she pleaded, "before you fuck me boneless."

His dark chuckle made her skin erupt in gooseflesh, and she knew before he said a word that he would refuse her.

"I'm a man of my word." Why did she bother arguing with him? "The last thing I want you to worry about is me, alright?" Another kiss to her core, a flick of his tongue over her clit. "I'll think about this, about you, when I'm jerking off later."

With that, he released his grip on her thigh in favor of pinning her open for him with his other hand. His attention returned to her core, sending her resolve, her common sense, any principle out the window with her pride. She reached over her head to grip the cushion along its seam against the arm of the couch, fighting and failing to keep her hips still in the process.

Azriel wasn't deterred by her undulations. His lips shifted their attention to her sensitive— too sensitive— bud, massaging it with the lightest suction to avoid overstimulating her. His finger slipped into her without resistance, and he halted his advance to pull back and insert a second finger alongside it.

The pressure was divine, the stretch around his fingers— perfect. Elain moaned shamelessly, uncaring that her hips were frantic or that she was covered in that fine layer of sweat from her scalp to the tips of her curled toes. He had reduced her to a rolling, begging mess. The edge of release burned through her tired muscles, screamed against the building tension. How much pleasure could she afford before her body gave up entirely?

Az moaned at her growing wetness, growled at the withering mess she was. Despite the guttural reaction he had to her arousal, his lips remained gentle while he crooked his talented fingers at the perfect angle. Elain's thighs trembled under the force of her climax. Her voice was little more than a sob when she called out his name among other, barely coherent, words of praise. He eased her down from the pleasure and braced her with a hand against her lower abdomen to ease his fingers out of her.

With her eyes screwed shut, chest rising and falling in desperation, she didn't see Azriel shift onto the couch close to her. With tender fingers, he eased her iron grip from the edge of the cushions so that he could lift her into his lap. He didn't bother to tap a rhythm against her skin that time. There was no denying how hard she'd come.

Exhaustion lived in every nook of her body, leaving her limp against him the second her head hit his shoulder. She could feel his hardness against her backside, but he held her as if it didn't exist at all, petting her hair away from her face. His lips were soft against her forehead, her temple, her cheek before he stood and carried her to the bedroom, laying her atop the cool sheets.

"Sleep, baby," he murmured.

Elain barely heard the order before she followed it, tumbling into deep, contented oblivion.

----

[kkusuka]

hiii I was wondering if you could do a threesome w kuroo bokuto and y/n?? plsss💞

i can actually, that’s the fun part.

(I'm going to try to use gender-neutral pronouns, but the reader has female anatomy, I hope that’s ok!) 

I deadass just took this and ran with it oml. 

All 18+, public sex, circumstantial humiliation, slight voyeurism, orgasm denial, threesome M/F/M, they’re both kind mean but not really, slight degrading 

Synopsis: Your college chem class is kicking your ass so when your professor recommends you to Kuroo, who seems to come in a package deal with another owl-ish boy, you were more than thankful. 

4/25

You couldn't believe it, you were so sure you had done well on this test. You made flashcards and even scoured the web for as many quizlets on the subject as you possibly could. But one thing remained the same: Masahiro sensei’s chemistry class was kicking your ass. 

No matter how many times you looked at the reference tables and started at the elements you didn't understand a single word that came out of that man's mouth. What’s worse is that you seemed to be the only one who ever had trouble in his class, and he always made sure to let you know. 

Side glances during lectures, calling you out when he knows you have no clue what the answer could be, talking about how 'some people’ would do better if they tried harder. You just didn't know what else to do. 

So, in some twisted way, you were thankful when he requested to keep you a few minutes after class requesting to talk about some personal issues. Issues you wished would include a new grade and easier tests. 

But him telling you about a boy with exceptional grades who would be a perfect fit to help you out, was something you had expected, but did not want. You felt more embarrassed than you already were, couldn't he just give you a website where you could watch videos about ionic and binary compounds? 

Looking back to the phone number he had written for you on an index card, you relent. Sending a quick message to the number you shut your phone off and tried to get to your dorm, dropping onto your bed faster than you’d like to admit. 

Hey, this is y/n l/n, Masahiro-sensei gave me your number for possible tutoring, if you're up for it of course. Any time for me works. 12:56 pm 

Yeah, he let me know about a possible tutoring session, how about the library tomorrow at 4? 1:03 pm 

I'm Kuroo Tetsurou btw. 1:07 pm

And like that your day got 10x worse, you don't even know who this way. You at least hoped it was the boy with the fluffy hair in the first row. At least Masahio told him, you assume it may have gone worse, tomorrow at the library at 4. 

You could deal with that. 

-- 

Your first meeting had gone fairly well. You arrived that the library entrance five minutes early reaching for your phone to let the mysterious Kuroo Tetsurou know that you had arrived, but before you could get that far- 

“No need babe, I'm right here, L/n right?” 

He was tall, taller than you at least. Tall enough to be able to lock down at you. Looking at you with his narrow hazel eyes and his sleazy yet comforting cat-like smile. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a bright red- volleyball jacket? Nekoma volleyball club must be from high school. 

He led you to an isolated corner of the science section on the third floor, a place you had frequented during your mid-semester crying chemistry sessions-- hopefully your tears have dried up by now and you won't make a fool of yourself. 

He wasted no time asking exactly what you need help with and seemed more than surprised when you told him everything. He let out a laugh that made you want to get up and run away before letting you know that it was normal to be confused and that you would just start with the electron configurations. 

It was going great, he was an amazing teacher and knew exactly what to tell you to make you remember all the rules of the SPDF configurations and everything leading up to the oxidation states of the transition metals. It was just sad that he had to go over everything a second time just for you to get it in your mind. 

In the middle of explaining lead’s second oxidation state, Kuroos phone lit up with a notification a Bokuto was calling. Without a second glance, he declined the call and went right to the first state of silver. 

Three seconds in this same Bokuto called back after a few choice texts, letting out a sigh he apologized muting about a stupid owl not giving him a moment of rest no matter the time of day. 

He picked up and tried to walk away as quick as he could, the only thing you could gain from the conversion was a 

HEY HEY! you still at the library? Though you’d be done by now Kuroo!

To which Kuroo told whoever was on the end of the line, that he didn't mind and they should mind their own business. Then you were out of earshot. when he came back he looked as if the life was sucked from his soul. 

He plopped into the chair across from you and sat for a second before releasing a deep breath. He looked back at you connecting eyes--they looked impossibly cat-like under the lights of the library-- before shooting you a shifty smirk. 

“Babe you're doing great but I've gotta cut it off for today, and you don't mind if a friend joins us for the next few sessions? He isn't that bright.” 

It took you of all five seconds to think of your answer, another person who wasn't the brightest will make you look less stupid. Just the thought made you feel bad, you're sure that Bokuto was a wonderful person, hopefully, and did not deserve to be used to make you seem less hopeless. Yet still, 

“Yes! That’s totally fine, I'll see you in two days?” 

“Sounds great” 

--

“‘C'mon babe what's the dashed configuration of bromine?” 

You didn't know, or maybe you did. It's not like that would matter considering the two fingers curling into your sweet spot. You could only focus on the way he rubbed your throbbing nub that sent sparks straight beach into your core. 

“I-i I don’t- god, please, please, need to cum.” you were so close, Kuroo had already ripped two orgasms from you because you didn't know the answer, and you were going to scream if he did it again. “Please, wanna cum” 

“No can do baby Owl, that’s the deal no cumming until you get the question.” 

Bokuto. 

You would have forgotten he was there if it weren't for his piercing gaze on Kuroo’s fingers drenched in your slick. Not once has it wavered from you, your silt to you tits up to your lips. 

You had to try, he’ll stop. Somewhere in the back of your mind you know the answer, they know you know the answer. Somewhere else in your mind you think about how you got caught up in this in the first place. 

How Kuroo was frustrated and told you the if you got another wrong answer he would fuck the right one into you. Or bokuto purposely mocking him that sent him further until his hands were pulling your panties down your legs stuffing two fingers in your cunt, saying how he won't stop until you get all the answers right. 

“Two- e-eight- eight-teen- please please, si--six- NO seven, it’s seven. ‘M so close please” 

Kuroo seemed pleased with your answer, his hands moving quickly around your bud and curling further into your g-spot as Bokuto makes his way around the table to where the two of you are seated. 

Pulling the shirt above your head, Bokuto circles a nipple through the fabric of your bra commenting on how quickly it had pebbled, attaching his mouth to your other as Kuroo commanded you to cum around his relentless digits. 

Clenching around his fingers you hadn't noticed a head of white and black hair moving towards your center. Coming off the high of your orgasm you felt Bokuto’s tongue spread your lips as his nose circled your clit.  

“Oh, dude! You gotta taste ‘em! Like liquid gold, Man!” 

You flushed further, if possible, tethering a hand into Bokuto's hair. Understanding the compliment Kuroo swiped a finger along your slick-covered thighs and let a mockingly loud moan fall between his lips. 

As if you could be more embarrassed by the noises of Bokuto slurping whatever he could catch in his mouth, Kuroo’s coos of how red you look and how delicious you look, as the man under you eats as if it was his last meal. 

Two hands grabbed your waist and lifted you off Bokuto, placing you back on your feet. Turing you toward the wall of windows and hand on your back bent you over the table surrounded by all of your notes. 

“Look at that, she’s just gushing all over the place. All this over a chemistry lesson? Who knew I was teaching such a cockwhore this whole time.” a hand met your clit as Kuroo began to push into you, forcing you further into the table. 

You heard a gasping moan as he bottomed out, glancing over to where Bokuto sat hand around the base of his cock, standing as Kuroo waved him over to you. 

“I think you can fit two, right?”  and just like that bokuto was forcing his way into your clenching walls. There was discomfort until a soft pop to which both the boys let out a sigh. 

You feel so full. You didn't know who but one of them was brushing against your cervix. The first thrust came to you as a surprise,  following with a second's rest before the two of them created a steady rhythm.

The faster they went the more apparent it was, they were using you like a fleshlight. You couldn't even speak as a cock hit right at your g-spot. Back arching you let out a series of small “ahs” much to Kuroo’s enjoyment. 

“You fucking like this! Getting dicked where everyone can see. By two cocks no less!” he laughed pulling your head up from its place in your arms, making you have to look at your reflection in the glass. 

“No-no I-” a smack to your ass stopped you from trying to defend what little dignity you had left. There was no defending as Bokuto leaned towards your ear, never breaking rhythm. 

“No?,” he was practically snarling, “Then why the hell are you clenching our dicks so well, Baby Owl?”  

As if he flipped a switch your world went dark as you clenched further on the two men as you came. Riding out your orgasm neither of them let up the pace as they jackhammered into your poor pussy. 

Bokuto came first, with a loud groan of your name before he slumped into the chair he previously inhabited.  Settling to watch as Kuroo pulled your chest up to meet your back to his chest. Rutting into you as his orgasm rapidly approaches. 

If you weren't so sure this place was desolate you would be worried about someone hearing the slaps of your skin, or Kuroo’s final grunt as he filled you with his load, dropping you to lean on the table. 

At least your next chemistry test was graded with a 21/25, you’re sure the two of them will love to hear about that.

[bookishofalder]

I’ll just leave it at I love you

Summary: In which Hotch and the reader are holed up in a safe house to avoid a killer set on destroying the BAU. A tale of smut, because what else happens when two consenting adults are fighting their feelings, then get stuck in a house together?

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, female reader, domHotch, PIV, virginReader, oral sex, mildly rough, language. WC-3500

A/N: I have crushes on fictional men and I'm not afraid to take that energy and create shit like this for the hell of it! Edited but feedback appreciated.

Hotch was restless, his shower had done nothing to help him relax. He stood in the kitchen, staring into the fridge as if it would give him the answers he needed. He wished he could go for a run, let off some steam. His pent-up energy, this cottage, (Y/N) being so close-it was all too much. The lines of professionalism were bound to blur, but he felt as if they were so far gone in the dust, he couldn’t see them anymore, not in his mind.

Their argument that afternoon had been like a match being lit within a gas station. It had heated up too quickly and then burned away, leaving them both feeling angry and dejected. And she had been right that Hotch was being overprotective, but it didn’t mean the problem would go away, and to just let her go back to DC would only end up in her being hurt, or worse.

He wanted this purgatory to end just as much as (Y/N) did.  He longed to be back with his son.  And with the team, solving cases. But none of them could do that until the killer was found, and Hotch had no control outside of this cottage.

As thoughts of his control, or the lack thereof, came to mind, he slammed the fridge shut in frustration and sighed. (Y/N) had been challenging him since the moment they set foot in this place, which he could understand. There was no one else, and therefore she took out her anger and fear on him.

He could handle that, he had thought at first.

When she yelled that she should leave, go home, and then offered to be the bait to lure the killer out, Hotch had felt something inside of him snap. The final tethers of his patience and sanity disintegrating. The team were in this together, all making sacrifices to protect (Y/N) because she had been the one receiving the death threats and mysterious packages. She had been the one whose photos were displayed on the walls of the crime scene in DC, a clear message-(Y/N) was the target.

So why was she so determined to leave and put herself in danger?

He was leaning against the counter, his hands gripping the edges. The sound of her soft footsteps approaching alerted him to her presence. Hotch opened his eyes, meeting hers directly. She was standing next to the island, biting her lip and looking at him with dark eyes, her arms wrapped around her middle protectively. She still looked angry. Hotch just stared back at her and waited for her to speak.

“I...” She frowned, “I’m not apologizing.” (Y/N) said stubbornly, making him tense, furious. But he refused to respond, he simply glared at her. He was not going to fight again now, it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

But she stepped into the kitchen further, looking determined.

“You should let me go right now, let me go and lure him out and end this, please.” She looked so hopelessly desperate as she spoke. Hotch shook his head, gripping the counter more fiercely.

“You know I can’t let you leave, just as much as I can’t leave.”

(Y/N) scoffed at his words, pointing toward the front door, “If I decide to walk out that door right now, you can’t stop me, Hotch!” Her eyes flashed dangerously until Hotch stepped away from the counter, standing at his full height. He saw something behind the anger shift, a modicum of fear.

He kept his voice steady, low, “You are not leaving. End of discussion.” She watched him speak, her face twisting further in anger. She turned, abruptly, toward the front door, blind rage overtaking her sensibility, and she moved toward it.

She was in a sweater and jeans, and she walked toward the front door like she was in full combat gear, ready to take on the world. But Hotch was quicker, he reached out and grabbed her arm, jerking her first toward him, and then into the wall behind them. He wasn’t harsh, careful not to hurt her in any way, but her furious yell made clear that she was not impressed. “For fucks sake, Hotch!”

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N), when did you become such a little fucking brat?” He spat, holding her against the wall, he stepped closer, looking down into her eyes, “When did you decide that it was you against the world? I’m right here trying to protect you!”

She stopped struggling and looked at him with wide eyes, “That’s why I want to leave, Hotch! Being cooped up here, knowing you aren’t safe-knowing you’re sacrificing everything for me, I can’t do this to you anymore, I can’t accept this kind of help.” She was breathless, tears burning at her eyes that she refused to let fall, arms pinned to her sides.

He shook his head, sighing, “How can I possibly make clear to you that I am okay with this, that I-I need to be the one to protect you, (Y/N)?” Hotch gripped her arms tighter, still standing so, so close.

“Why? What does that mean, that you need to?” She gazed up at him now, her wide eyes revealing her anger was disappearing, despite her frustrations. “Aaron?”

At the sound of his name, Hotch felt his anger dissolving into something much more powerful. His willpower shattered, and he dipped his head-surprised to find her expression was not of anger or fear now, but anticipation. When he captured her lips with his own, her reaction was instantaneous, her head lifting from the wall to deepen the kiss.

It was bliss, pure bliss.

Hotch slid his hands from her arms, gently cradling her head. He ran his tongue across her lips, and they opened for him, allowing him to taste her. He groaned as she slipped her hands up, gripping his shirt to pull their bodies together.

After a moment, he pulled his head back, panting, “I love you, that’s why. I love you more than I should, and I have for a while now. I think I’ve loved you since we first met, and every day I fall all over again when I see you, or learn something new, and I am never going to let you walk out of a door without me by your side if it means keeping you safe, because I’ve just found you and I never want to lose you, (Y/N).” The words rushed out of him, finally free, his shoulders lighter already.

“I thought it was just me.” She was looking at him in adoration now, tears falling, “I thought, a man like you...never, not for me, look but don’t hope.” She sniffled, and he wiped away her tears with his thumbs, kissing her forehead. “Aaron, I love you too.” At her words he brought their lips crashing together again, holding nothing back now.

He pressed (Y/N) into the wall, delighted at her gasp when she felt him hard against her stomach. He trailed his hands down, to her hips, behind her thighs. He had to stoop slightly, she was so short, and he scooped her up. Her heat made contact with him and they both groaned at the sensation before Hotch hastily carried her the few steps into the bedroom. Hotch laid (Y/N) down on the bed carefully, one hand sliding protectively behind her head. She kept her legs around him, holding him close and taking on his weight.

For a few minutes, they continued kissing, until Hotch broke away to begin exploring her body. Shifting his weight and kneeling, his hands travelled down, gently. She moaned softly, then whimpered when his hand traced over her breast, her nipple hard within her thin sweatshirt. Hotch sat up, pulling her with him so that he could pull the sweater over her head. She complied without hesitation, seeming to consent to his control.

But he was a gentleman, “Just tell me if you want to stop, okay, (Y/N)?” He breathed, pausing as he reached for her beautiful, bare breasts. She nodded, but Hotch needed to hear her say it, and she read that in his expression.

“I promise, Hotch.” She gasped out, writhing in anticipation. He began kneading her breasts, only to find she was sensitive here-his fingers brushing over her nipples caused her to jerk slightly, moans unending. He gently eased her back to lay again, before pulling his shirt off.

Momentarily, he became self-conscious of the scars scattered across his torso, now exposed. (Y/N) reached up, tracing one with her finger, “You’re perfect, Aaron.” Worry ceased at her words, his heart swelling. In response, he ducked his head and brought his mouth to her chest, his tongue flicking over her nipple. She reacted instantly, her back arching and a hand gripping his hair, encouraging him.

He took his time teasing her, moving between each breast, he ignored her hips seeking friction against him. For as long as he could stand.  

A whimper escaped her lips, so full of longing it had Hotch glance up, meeting her eyes. Her pupils were blown out, desire flushing her face, lips trembling, “Hotch...”. He shifted again, this time slipping his thumbs into her waistband, tugging. She lifted her hips to help, and he swiftly removed her pants and underwear in one swoop, tossing them on the floor.

Automatically and instinctively, her legs closed. Hotch caught her left leg, pushing his hand down her inner thigh. She writhed beneath him, but her leg stiffened, and he looked at her closely, “What’s the matter, baby girl?” He whispered, concerned.

She peered up at him, looking shy, “I...I’ve never been able to cum that way, and I know men don’t really like to, you know, so you don’t have to.” Hotch gazed at her in surprise.

“Is that what you think? I don’t want to taste you?” He held her gaze, but moved his hand down, sliding a finger across her heat. Her hips bucked, “I’m going to taste you cum in my mouth, sweetheart. I’ll show you just how much I’ve been wanting this, okay?” She nodded eagerly, her breathing erratic, legs relaxing slightly.

Hotch pushed himself down the bed and hooked her legs over his shoulders, finally coming face to face with her; she was glistening for him. He groaned. “Sweetheart, you’re so wet for me already.” She merely mewled in response as his fingers explored her folds. She was well-groomed, her hair trimmed fairly short, giving him a full few of her; his mouth watered.

The moment Hotch felt her legs relax on his shoulders, becoming more comfortable with his face being so close to her, he dove in. He quickly moved his hands to grip her hips, holding her in place as he began to lick up her slit, then press his tongue into her clit. She bucked and writhed, fighting against his grip to no avail.

“Oh god, oh god, Aaron, please, please...”

He smiled against her, pulling back slightly, “Please what, baby girl? What do you need?” He licked her again, and she cried out, lifting her head to look down at him. She tasted divine, which only drove him to lick and suck more, waiting for her to respond.

It took her a few minutes to form words as his assault on her clit continued, “Need...I think I might...uh, cum, Aaron.” She groaned his name, and he laughed against her, which sent vibrations deep into her. He kept up his pace, felt her tensing more, shivering beneath him.

“Cum baby girl, let go for me.” He ordered, and it was like she’d been waiting for his permission. Her back arched up and he felt her throb against his tongue, a soft cry escaped her lips. She jerked in her orgasm, over and over. He sucked lightly on her and she trembled in response, tears spilling out of her eyes before she fell back into the bed, coming down from her high.

“Oh god, oh,” She breathed, and Aaron backed off, sliding up the bed to lay next to her. He watched her catch her breath, revelling in her blissed-out expression, her red cheeks. He waited a few moments, letting her come down. “I’ve never, ever had an orgasm like that, Christ.”

Hotch laughed, leaning over her and planting gentle kisses along her hairline, her eyes, the tip of her nose, “We can stop here if you want to.” He suggested, but of course, Aaron had forgotten her age. 25 years old, in good shape-orgasm or not, she wasn’t done yet. Her eyes flew open and met his, pupils fully dilated still.

“I want to keep going, but I have to tell you something first,” (Y/N) stayed laying, but drew her legs together, “And if you decide you think we should stop, then I fully accept that.”

He tilted his head, eyes exploring her worried expression, “What is it, sweetheart?” His hand had been roaming absentmindedly, but he stopped at her hip. He gazed down at her, brows furrowed.

She seemed to steel herself, taking a deep breath.

“I’ve, never-you know, had sex,” Seeing his shocked expression, she began to ramble, “It just never happened, with anyone I dated when I was younger, and it got to the point where it was an afterthought, especially after I bought an expensive vibrator, and I know that it’s weird or, whatever, to be 25 and this inexperienced, but-“

“(Y/N),” He cut her off, stroking her cheek gently, “Thank you for telling me. But it doesn’t change my mind, about anything. I would understand if this was far enough, for now, truly, so just tell me what you want.” He hoped he could spend the rest of his life making her feel better, happy, loved. They didn’t need to continue if she wasn’t ready.

“Hotch, I...I want you, I always have,” She shifted slightly, and he watched her breathing pick up in anticipation, “I’ve thought about it, so many times...when I shouldn’t have, especially.”

His interest was piqued. Hotch rolled over her, bracing his weight on his arm, pressing his erection against her, his pants still on, “Really? Tell me.” He said, noting how she flushed any time he ordered her to do something.

“The first time I thought about it, was back at headquarters after the first case we worked when you came back to work. You were in your office and I dropped off everyone’s reports,” Hotch remembered this evening, as he’d been surprised to find the newest team member picking up the slack and finalizing everyone’s notes for submission, “You had taken off your tie, and you’d been so good to me in the field, so kind. But when I knocked on the door you were deep in thought and at first, you glared at me and I thought ‘how much would I give to climb up on that desk and get rid of that frown’.”

Hotch hissed at her words, grounding against her harshly, “You wanted me that soon?” (Y/N) nodded, a breathy moan escaping.

“After that, I thought about you too often. I had to use my vibrator the moment I got home, every day. I had to bring it on the road, even. I wanted you to take me, everywhere, anywhere, as much as you wanted.” Hotch groaned, pushed her down and sat back, swiftly removing his pants and briefs. (Y/N)’s head popped up and looked at his erection, her eyes widening in shock, instantly licking her lips. “Holy shit, Hotch...” He laughed at her words.

“I’ve been wishing I could bend you over my desk for months now, but I had no idea you hadn’t ever done this before. I want to see your face, baby girl.” Something in his voice caused her eyes to widen, further. He lowered himself, reaching down with one hand to push his length along her folds, wetting it in her juices.”Oh fuck, you’re so ready for me baby girl, tell me you want this.”

She knew he needed to hear her give permission again, and she gave it instantly, “Please Aaron, please I need you, ple-oh!” She gasped as he pushed into her, hard. Stiffening, a low groan broke free, her eyes shut tightly. He buried himself completely inside of her before freezing, waiting for her pain to subside. Pleasure rippled through Hotch.

Hotch kissed her gently as she whimpered in pain, “You did so good, sweetheart, it’ll be okay in a minute, just breath for me,” He whispered, stroking her hair back, watching her face closely. For a few moments, her eyes stayed shut, screwed up against the sensation, and he gave her credit for taking her time to adjust. He knew he was larger than average, and she was so tight around him. He had to keep still for both her sake and his own, fearing her tightness alone would send him over the edge-he wanted to take his time and make her feel...everything.

He felt when her body had adjusted, the tension in her lower body relaxing, her eyes beginning to open. He tested the waters, moving his hips back slightly, and then sinking into her again. He groaned, watching as her face lit up at his movements; so he repeated them, moving further back this time.

“Oh fuck, Aaron!” That was all he needed to hear. He moved over her, bracing his arms on the bed on either side of her head, his hands near her face, and began to thrust quickly, long strokes that brought stars to his vision. And she was loud beneath him, one hand on his chest, the other gripping his shoulder, screaming his name. He pounded into her, groaning, and he buried his face in her neck, biting gently, which only elicited further shouts, her hips bucking slightly to meet his movements.

“Oh baby girl, you are taking me so well, fuck,” He bit her neck again, and she jerked in response, her walls squeezing him. “Such a good girl for me, such a good girl.”

“Sir, please, please don’t stop.” She whimpered, and Hotch’s eyes flew open in surprise, her words sending a shiver down his body.

He stared down at (Y/N), who seemed surprised at herself, but a small smirk quirked her lips, and he growled, a hand sliding behind her head and gripping her hair, the other grabbing her jaw, gentle but firm. “Say that again.” He kept his pace, pleasure building.

“Uh, sir, fuck me, please sir!” (Y/N) was a writhing mess beneath him, loving his reaction, his dominance, her eyes watching him in delight. She arched slightly as his thrusts became almost brutal, and began to call his name over and over, unable to stop.  

Hotch leaned down and bit her neck again, leaving another mark, and she began to tremble beneath him, words escaping her when his thrusts bottomed out, hitting her deep, eyes-rolling. He kissed her, but she was so blissed out it barely registered, which only made him happier. “Fuck...Good, baby girl, so good...cum for me again okay? You can cum for me now, fuck!”

On his last word, he gave an almighty thrust and she screamed, her hands clutching his shoulders as the wave broke over her, her body tensing, squeezing him, and then, “Aaron!” It was his undoing and he came with her, spilling himself inside her as he moaned her name. He brought his head down and kissed her breasts, jerking wildly into her, his thrusts sloppy. Her body relaxed as she came down from her high.  

“Oh sweetheart,” He breathed, slowly easing out of her, before collapsing on the bed beside her. He pulled her to him, and she obliged, rolling over and resting her head on his chest, while they both remained silent, catching their breath. “You did so well, baby girl.” He kissed the top of her head.

“That was-I mean,” (Y/N) stammered, struggling to find words. Inwardly, Hotch smirked, happy to know he’d rendered her somewhat speechless. “I think I’ll just leave it at I love you.” She began to giggle, gazing up at him.

Hotch joined her, months of tension and longing now gone, and in its place a happy new beginning. They still had forces outside of their cozy little hideaway that worked against them, but for the time being, he and (Y/N) could simply enjoy the clear air between them.

The rest of the world could wait.

“I love you, too, (Y/N)”

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

[efkgirldetective]

~part V~ { part I & part II & part III & part IV }

thank you thank you to the anon who sent in this prompt! 💗💗💗

book + cerulean + passion

“Don’t have too much fun while we’re off, yeah?”

“Never, Padfoot, we—”

“Head Girl? Can you reassure?”

“Former Head Girl, mind you—”

“Sirius, honest to Merlin, we’re so, so late, and you know how Moody gets, he’ll have our—”

“—bollocks, yeah, had the exact same and shuddering thought, dearest—”

“—amount of calling me dearest can make up for that image, fuck’s sake—Pete? We’re near—”

“I’ve been ready, Remus!” Peter exclaims, springing indignantly from his seat on the sofa. “Been sat right bloody here, reading a book while you lot argue on and on about ‘oh, do you have the coordinates, or do I?’ Honestly, could’ve read through Hogwarts a bloody History frontward and backward, already!”

James grins at the exasperated trio, puffy-coated and scarf-wrapped and leaving not thirty minutes after they ought to have left. Between his wide-leg lean at the kitchen counter, Lily calls out, “Be safe, okay?” Sirius accios his wand all the way from down the hall, quite nearly missing the tawny tuft of Peter’s hair—“And be polite!”

“Polite, Evans, honest?” James tucks into her sweet-smelling hair. “Like Moody wants politeness, not moxie or gall or some imposing four-syllable word that escapes me at the moment.”

Lily pinches the skin of his arm.

“See you for dinner, yeah?” Sirius is calling back. “Right chuffed for steak pies—”

“Black!”

“Oh, for—coming, coming!”

Peter’s aggravated scowl is the last thing they see, the babble of Remus and Sirius floating down the hall, disappearing behind the closed door.

“If we’re going to be parents,” Lily says, running her hands along James’, wrapped round her waist, “We ought to start practicing, no?”

James laughs, sweeping her hair away and leaning down to kiss her neck. He contemplates the skin, a small pair of freckles marking the place where neck and shoulder meet. He thinks of their furtive trip to the fertility clinic earlier in the day; how the charms glimmered cerulean over Lily’s stomach, her hand gripping his tightly as the Healer surveyed her vitals, told them how healthy the baby—their baby—looked, inside, just about ten weeks along and growing so well. James took it all in as if from afar; heart beating out of his body, sense of place, of home, tied so firmly to Lily’s five-fingered hold on him; how her eyes shone with nervous excitement as she looked at him from the examination table—red hair a stark contrast to such a sterilized room. She whispered, “Okay?” and squeezed his hand. He nodded, bent to kiss her forearm, unable to find words for how he felt; an overflowing of love that left him just as tethered as it left him unmoored.

In the kitchen, he tries to make sense of the paradox: how he might be sinking for all his unruly, anxious fears—and at the same time buoyant, near-weightless in pride, in joy. He bends his cheek to the freckles and blinks slowly. “You’re going to be such a good mum.”

She sighs, turns in his arms. Happy and healthy and growing. “If you let go of any absurd dream involving an infant Quidditch player,” she murmurs, hands winding up his chest and neck, “then I know you’ll make a really wonderful dad.”

Though he is unwilling and unable to let go of hope for an infant Quidditch player, he makes no mention—he leans forward and kisses her cleanly, slowly, letting the overflow transmute into tenderness, deliberate and ebbing; Lily responds in kind, threading his hair through her fingers, some soft urgency sounding in the back of her throat. Her body melts closer, thin pink cardigan letting him know just how little she’s wearing beneath—and is unsurprised, given the turmoil surging inside, that need floats so easily to the top; skimmed out of overwhelming affection, of the delicate knowing that their bodies, together, created.

And the idea of when that might have been—when it happened, in any of the jumbled and run-together instances of love, of impatience, of time-taken and stolen and stretched out and yearned for—eats at James, digs at him—merges with the feeling of limbs lethargic on his, her lips moving from chin to jaw to neck and loitering, heatedly, on his throat. “When—” he begins, short on breath, hands moving up her back, under the thin fabric, finding the warm skin of her back—“when do you think it happened?”

Lily hums into his neck, nipping gently. “When what happened?”

He laughs, ruefully, fingers pressing into the curve of her hips. Closes his eyes to her hair. “Er, the conception.”

“The conception?” Lily emerges from his neck, laughing, too, lips pulled apart in mirth. “What, we're religious, now?”

“Well, it’s the technical term, Lils—would you rather I call it procreation?”

Lily groans, “Oh no, that’s far worse—so detached and impersonal,” she steals a long and wandering kiss. “Hardly what I feel when you’re inside of me, moving.”

"Oh, fucking hell—" James kisses her, can’t help it—and again, and again. “Really, though, semantics aside—” he moans, and she kisses him again, still laughing—“I want to know when you think it happened, is all.”

Leaning back from him, and really looking at him clearly, Lily lets her smile fall into something smaller; something like a smirk. “Alright, well,” she exhales, thinking, hands falling from his hair down his shoulders—and slowly, slowly, down his arms, pausing at the sleeves of his shirt. “It had to have been two months ago, or so,” she muses, eyes meandering from their lean to the expanse of kitchen counter behind them, the oven and the hob. “Maybe, it was just there, over the...” her eyes turn back to him, aglimmer.

James swallows deliberately, tilts his chin upward; takes a short moment to compose himself. It hardly works. “Evans,” he articulates, slowly. She laughs, fingers slipping, rounding his biceps; an insufferable squeeze, and stroking.

“I imagine an act of such passion could surely lead to conception,” she stands on tiptoes, finds his ear, nips at the lobe, “don’t you agree?”

For this he has only one long, breathless moan—the memory of a night without housemates, a shared bottle of wine; her breath so soft and wanting as they necked in the kitchen, necking that turned— near instantly—into a clamor of hands under and tugging at clothes, lips on necks, whimpers and gasping and an oh, Merlin, please as he sunk to his knees and fixed his tongue between her legs— which led, inevitably, to a growing plea for more and more now; to her impatient keening as he grappled with her skirt and knickers, his own pants barely pushed aside before he pressed inside, hard and leaking, half-gone and humbled at her neck, her shoulder—her sweet gasping James what took him clear over the edge, right there in the kitchen, adjacent the hob; her hips tight in his hands, legs shaking madly under his.

And in the same kitchen her mouth connects to his softening breath, drinking it down, knowing. “Or,” she continues, “perhaps that time in the en suite, when not five minutes in you—”

“Jesus fuck,” James interrupts, voice high and reedy—a sound that changes, and breaks, as Lily swivels her hips over his—“Hadn’t seen you for three days, you can’t just—it was—”

“I wasn’t complaining, though, was I, love?” she laughs into his mouth. “Especially not when you said such nice things with your tongue, afterward.”

"That made up for it?"

"More than made up for it, darling."

He smiles, quietly, and slips his hands down the warmth of her back, round her thighs, and lifts, jostling her into his arms. Lily tightens her grip on him, presses a kiss to his neck. “Could’ve been any one of the times you’ve fucked me senseless into our bed,” she muses. “Oh, excuse me—our premarital bed.”

“Thank you,” James says, “for acknowledging our unwed sin.”

Their bodies sway forward as he pushes up off the counter and staggers, indiscriminately, toward the bedroom, urged on by her burgeoning moan. “You know, I—” he tries, fixing her weight against a doorframe, finding it near impossible to speak around her suddenly desperate kiss, the sparring of tongues—“I just think—”

“—do tell me what you think—”

“—that talking about this was a shit idea.”

“Shit idea? No, really?”

“Really,” James repeats, short on breath and having stumbled from the door right into their bedroom, replete with purported sin. “Because all this talk of conception has me thinking—”

“All this thinking,” Lily whines into his ear, tongue swirling, dangerous. “You’ll hurt yourself, Potter.”

James lays her down on the bed, laughing; hair scattering and soft, cardigan pulled taut at the buttons, a flush of red spreading down her neck. She bites her lip as he leans back, looks at her.

“Thinking of...?” she prompts, fingers fall down his forearms, stroking.

“Of everything that leads up to conception,” he clarifies, swallowing, dipping his face into the swells of her breasts, nuzzling; lifting her sweater up enough to find her belly. His touch slows, gentle as it traces down the skin, as his mouth bends to kiss, slowly, like she is some delicate thing. He turns his face, lets his cheek rest against the center. Closes his eyes. “Hi, baby.”

Lily clambers onto elbows and reaches a hand through his hair. “Baby says hi back.”

James lifts his head. “Oh, you can hear the baby?”

“Yes,” she says, fingers moving across his brow, down his cheek, feeling the indent of his grin. “We’ve a telepathic connection.”

“And what’re they saying, now?”

“Mmm,” she hums. “Saying it’s alright if mum and dad want a bit of a shag, they’ll close their eyes.”

His laughter precedes his body, coming over her, weight shifting down. Her hands latched to the exposed skin of his neck. A gentle kiss between. Pulling and yearning, like yarn. The center, a knot, growing stronger.

Lily weaves her legs around his waist. Breaks gently from his mouth. “When do you think it happened?”

The question is considered, serious and slow, in the nape of her neck; in the pink plane of her cheek; in a blinking, unbroken stare. James lets the world settle down into the space of the bed and their bodies. Answers, eventually, with a tensed forehead, a hand gentle along her thigh. “If this came to be...because of an intention to love you as much and as long as I can,” he murmurs, “then it could’ve been any one of those times.”

She exhales, and he takes the same air as his breath.

He dips toward her mouth, quietly. “Any time at all.”

Lily makes a small sound, pulls down his lips—and of course he can feel their love growing, still, even in the quiet of the room. If he is to drown and float, all at once, then let it be like this; in warm and gentle waters, fixed to the tide of their hearts.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Six

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader 

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Language,

Word Count: 2.7K

A/n: Hehehehehehehehehehehe y’all... read this and enjoy how calm it is because this won’t last for long.....

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

~*~

"So Buck! You seem to be in higher spirits!" Bucky nods at his blond friend, tossing his arm over the back of the couch. Steve sits across from him in the common room, and Natasha sits on the couch beside him, snuggled against his side.

"You've been a lot happier and a lot more... active in our social outings. I like that. I think it's great. Whatever you're doing, whatever therapy you've started is working wonders for you," Nat says with a small smile. Bucky kisses the top of her head and nods.

"Yeah. I've been... him less and less. I'm slowly getting control of my mind back, and with that, the monster is getting back under my control. I think."

~*~

His hips slam brutally into your ass, leaving bruises that will be a bitch to sit on.

His metal hand is holding onto your hip while his flesh hand is tangled in your hair, yanking it back to force you to arch your back more.

"Oh fuck! Harder! Please, please! Harder!" A growl rumbles in his chest and he pulls your head back further. Your neck aches at this angle but the pain is so perfect, it sends sparks down to your core.

He looks down at you, at the way your lips are parted in pleasure and the furrow of your brows, the way your eyes are squeezed shut.

You look perfect. Absolutely picture perfect as he rams into you harder and harder.

"You want me to fuck you harder? Yeah? Want me to show you who you belong to?" You nod then whimper as he pulls your hair again. He spits down onto your face and you flinch in surprise as it lands across the bridge of your nose and on your cheek.

He stops thrusting, pulls out of you, then flips you onto your back. You stare up at him through hooded eyes and he grins, loving the fact that you're taking him so well.

He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your lips to purse until they pop open. He then leans down and collects saliva in his mouth. His eyes stay trained on yours as he lets gravity pulls the liquid from his mouth into yours. It's warm and tastes like him, and you can't help but lick your lips and moan at the act and the taste.

"So good for me. Taking everything I give you." You nod, an innocent look in your eyes that has Bucky's balls throbbing.

He watches you for a moment longer, the tip of his cock resting at your entrance, and you can't help but squirm, wanting him to fuck you hard and show you who you belong to.

He leans down and licks a stripe up your neck, the salty sweat adding to his arousal as he gets up to your face. He licks your cheek then pulls away and spits on you again. In the same moment, he buries himself inside of you, cock hitting every sensitive spot you have.

The force of his thrust leaves you breathless for a moment, and he uses that moment to bring your legs over his shoulders and your hands above your head, pinning them there in his metal fist.

He starts pumping into you, hard and fast and deliciously rough, each thrust abusing your cervix and making you see stars.

"Yes... fuck, yes..." Drool drips down the corner of your mouth as he fucks you dumb, coherent thoughts leaving your brain until all that you can think about is him. His cock, his hands, his smell, even his spit. You want him to mark you up, you want to be put on display and have everyone know that you belong to him.

"You love getting used by me, huh?" He asks, panting hard as his hips speed up.

"You love it when I fuck your tiny little pussy like it's a fucking toy. You love it when I fucking destroy your little cunt." You nod desperately, eyes glazed over as the coil in your belly tightens.

The squelching sound of him thrusting through your wet heat has fire climbing up your spine. It's erotic and absolutely sinful, and you can't get enough.

"I love it... when you fuck me... when you- oh fuck!" A particularly rough thrust has your back arching, head digging into the pillows as your core throbs.

"Take me.... use me... I'm yours." The words are hardly whispered, but Bucky hears them. And he has every intention of obeying.

He fucks you brutally, the position forcing you to take every painful thrust until he cums.

You can feel your own orgasm creeping up, the brush of his pelvis against your clit doing nothing to stop the feeling. It takes only a few more thrusts, and then you're cumming.

"Cum on my cock, baby! Fuckin' cum! Cause you're mine! You're all mine. You belong to me. And everyone's gonna know it."

The way your cunt clamps down, walls squeezing tightly against his cock at his words, has him moaning, his hips stuttering. God, he could live in your pussy.

He follows you into the orgasmic embrace, painting your walls with his cum, marking you up inside and out and wrecking you for any man that may follow.

You slowly come down from your high, chest heaving and body slick with sweat, and Bucky is no better. He drops your legs to his waist then rolls onto his side, keeping his cock warm inside of you.

You press your face into the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths of his comforting scent as the post-orgasmic haze slowly trails off, exhaustion taking its place.

When he finally catches his breath, you're already sound asleep, pussy fluttering every now and then on his cock.

He rocks his hips a little, just enough the hear the sloshing of the cum in your pussy, then settles in beside you, content to fall asleep.

~*~

You wake up sometime after midnight, Bucky's cock still lodged inside of you. The heat in your core frustrates you beyond belief, and you want nothing more than the soldier to come and fuck you good.

You grind against him, hips wiggling and rocking in an attempt the gain friction and put out the fire in your belly.

He groans lowly in your ear, arms wrapping tighter around your frame for a moment before relaxing. You furrow your brows and hump against him, the feeling of his cock moving against your walls only worsening the fire inside of you.

A metal hand flashes up, gripping your hip tightly, and you know then and there that you've awoken the soldier.

He whispers something in your ear in Russian, his voice low and husky and absolutely arousing.

You try to rock your hips, and he quickly gets the message. He lifts your leg higher on his hip and starts to thrust into you quickly. The constant pressure of the velvet tip of his cock against your tender g-spot is absolute heaven, and you never want to lose the feeling.

He fucks you hard and fast, metal arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his body.

He leans down, lips slotting against yours in a kiss that's all dominance and force. He pants into your mouth, and you moan into his. The intimacy of it sends you spiralling and you find yourself gripping his shoulder and his back, nails digging in and creating red crescent moons in their wake. 

He's your rock, the only constant in your life, and you ground yourself to him. You tether yourself to him so tightly that nothing and no one will ever tear you from him.

A single tear falls from your eyes and you moan, the way he cares for you pushing you over the edge. Your body trembles, cunt fluttering and eyes rolling back as wave after wave of your orgasm crashes through your body.

He growls into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip as he chases his own release. He finishes inside of you, adding to the mess of white already covering your walls.

He doesn't pull out. Instead, he keeps his cock inside of you just like Bucky did and you can't help but think that the two of them are starting to act the same to you.

~*~

Bucky wakes up the next morning feeling well-rested and happy, his mind not clouded with nightmares or flashbacks to what he did to you.

He reaches out, looking for your warmth in the bed, but when he finds nothing he bolts upright. Now, logically he knows that you couldn't have escaped, but the fear is still lingering in his mind.

He jumps out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweats quickly, desperate to find you and make sure you're not doing anything he'll have to punish you for.

You've been so good lately. Listening, obeying, loving, fucking. He's beyond happy with you. He hopes to any and all God's available that you don't ruin that.

He pulls open the door to his bedroom but stops in his tracks, taking a deep breath in through his nose.

It smells like cooking. Like bacon.

He decides that he can spare a few minutes in his search for you and goes back into his room, wanting to brush his teeth and take a quick shower.

When he's finished he heads down the stairs, less frantic than before, and finds himself slightly confused when he sees you.

You're wearing one of his shirts as you scurry around the kitchen, getting two plates of food ready.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you tease, glancing over at him with a smile. He nods, watching as you set the table.

"Well don't just stand there. Go sit down. Breakfast will be ready in a minute. I got you some coffee too." He sits down and takes a hesitant sip of his coffee. It tastes normal.

"Here you go. I uh... you always make breakfast but today you looked so peaceful, I thought I could do it. I'm no chef, but even I know how to make pancakes. So I figured maybe we could have breakfast together." You scramble to explain yourself as you set a heaping plate of food down in front of him. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, and a bowl of fruit as well.

It looks delicious.

You turn to grab something but he grabs your arm, stopping you. You look at him shyly, worried he'll get mad. He only recently took the locks off of the cabinets and drawers, and you hope you're not overstepping. He pulls your arm again and you stumble closer, gasping when he surges upwards and captures your lips in a kiss.

You're surprised but you kiss him back, butterflies swarming your belly when he pulls away and looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

You hurry to finish setting the table, sitting across from him with your own plate of food.

Breakfast is eaten in comfortable silence, and when you're both finished Bucky waves you over. You sit on his lap, straddling his thick thighs, and look at him shyly. He rubs your back gently and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you for breakfast," he whispers. You nod, smiling at him. He peppers kisses across your face and down your neck, reaching your clavicle when his phone rings. He groans and you sigh, climbing off of his lap so he can answer the call.

"Hello?" His eyes are on you. Until whoever is on the other line starts talking.

"Uh no, no I didn't forget. I was just eating breakfast... Yeah... Yes... I'll be there in an hour... Bye." He hangs up the phone with a hearty sigh and tosses it onto the table, shaking his head.

"Mission briefing," he explains, standing up and stretching. You nod, walking to him and sneaking your hands up his shirt to rest on his warm chest.

"And you're gonna be going out right after, yeah?" He nods, leaning down to trail his nose over your pulse point.

"I should be back tomorrow, maybe the day after." You nod, sighing heavily when he steps away from you.

"You go get ready. I'll clean up in here," you say, watching as he turns and walks to the stairs. He shoots a glance over at you, a strange look in his eyes, then goes upstairs to get ready.

You're washing the dishes, trying not to think about the fact that he's going to be leaving you when his phone dings.

You ignore it. But then it does it again. And again. And a fourth time. Eventually, the noise is too annoying to ignore, so you march over to it to shut it off.

Your fingers freeze, hovering over the phone when you see the message.

It's from a woman. ‘Natasha’.

Your brain makes the connection that she must be Black Widow. As you're leaning down to read the message, another one appears. This one a photo.

You find yourself staring at her naked body, breasts on full display while two of her dainty fingers are pushed into her pink pussy.

With a deep breath, you turn away and resume your cleaning, wanting to distract yourself until you have time to think about this by yourself.

~*~

He's gone for three days. And in those three days, you do a lot of thinking until it clicks in your mind.

Of course she's texting him. He needs someone to tame the monster while he's at work. You can’t be there to help him when he’s away on missions. 

The solution you come up with does wonders to ease your stress, and you find yourself happily doing household chores, not worrying because you know that Bucky is loyal to you. He cares about you.

You're switching the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer when two hands grip your waist, squeezing rather tightly.

You gasp in shock, glancing over your shoulder as your heart races. A familiar pair of blue eyes stare back at you and you sigh, relaxing instantly in his hold. You can tell from the way the blue is slightly cloudy that this isn't Bucky, it's the soldier.

He tugs your shorts down your legs, panties getting ripped off next, and you can already feel yourself getting wet. You lift your leg up and rest your knee on the washing machine, opening yourself up to give him easier access.

He sheathes himself inside of you in one gentle thrust, and you sigh, having missed feeling him inside of you. His thrusts are smooth, almost as if he's reacquainting himself with you, each thrust hitting you deeper than the last.

You lean down onto your forearms, taking deep breaths as each thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge.

He whispers soft words in Russian, his hands gently stroking the skin exposed to him.

His thrusts gradually get faster, his mind focusing more on his release now that he's back inside of you. His metal hand snakes around your waist, fingers toying with your clit, pinching and rubbing. It brings you over the edge quickly and you shiver beneath him, cunt clenching and twitching around him.

His hips still, warmth spilling inside of you. You take a deep breath, whining softly when he pulls out of you. He rests his hands on your hips, his forehead coming to lean against the back of your neck.

He breathes heavily, his chest heaving as Bucky takes control of his body.

He nuzzles against the back of your neck, peppering gentle kisses across your skin. "Hi," he whispers. You smile to yourself. "Hi."

He pulls away slightly then looks around, seemingly taking in his surroundings.

"You're doing the laundry?" You nod, turning around in his arms and looking up at him. You can feel his cum dripping down your thigh and you can't help but shiver.

He wraps his arms around you and you smile up at him, rubbing your hands over his chest and shoulders.

"Of course. You already do so much for me. You provide for me, keep me safe, put a roof over my head. This is the least I can do." He nods, mulling over your words as you press kisses to his jaw. He hugs you tighter and nudges you with his nose until you look up at him. When you finally do, he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a gentle and intimate kiss.

[liptonsbabe]

The light is coming [B.W]

Previous

Bill Weasley x Lexington! reader

Summary: The reader wants to leave Beauxbatons attending to her sister’s pleadings to join the Order of the Phoenix. Byron Murphy wants to leave with her and the rumors about the two of them having a romance follows them to England

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: none(?

A/N: Chapter 2 of this new story. I hope you like it! Bla bla bla english not my mother language bla bla, let me know if i screwed something up. Enjoy!

Chapter2: Beauxbatons

You received your sister's desperate letters all the way to your own room at Beauxbatons Academy of  Magic. Your brow couldn't help but twitch at the sight of the dozens of letters crowding your window sill after you had finished teaching your classes for the day.

You let the Tonks family owl get in before it fell from the tenth floor of the castle of how gnarled its wings were. France had turned into a huge fridge in the last few days, so you were surprised that the little grayish owl could carry so many letters tied to its legs in the middle of a blizzard.

The owl let out a whimpering sound as you took it in your arms and, removing the tethers, laid it on your bed near the fire in the fireplace; you scooped some food onto a napkin and walked to your desk to read the correspondence.

Although you were familiar with your older sister's great euphoria when sending letters, you recognized that this time they were not just letters asking you to tell her how things were on the other side of the pond or demanding to know the latest gossip about your love life. No, the letters that your sister Nymphadora had sent you were totally serious, mature and direct; in each and every one of them she asked you for help on her behalf and on behalf of Albus Dumbledore.

Nymphadora asked you to return home even though she knew the reasons why you had decided to leave for France. She demanded your help to put an end to an evil that was plaguing the community and was forcing you to be part of an organization that Dora described as 'The Order of the Phoenix' created and spread by the Hogwarts’ headmaster.

You knew Albus Dumbledore very well, you remembered the man who had visited you at the Tonks' house on your eleventh birthday asking you to join the school he ran. No matter how much he begged you, you never agreed to what he asked, not cause you didn't want to, but because you and your adopted family would be better if you went away from there.

Andromeda Tonks was the mother of a little two-year-old girl when someone knocked on her door in the midst of a blast of icy rain. Opening the door she found to her surprise that a small basket was in front of her feet, soaking wet and holding a rain-soaked baby girl who was crying inconsolably.

"Ted! Come look at this, Ted!" She cried out as she carried the wet baby in her arms who snuggled into her arms as soon as she felt the woman's warmth “For Merlin's sake, Ted!

Her husband ran to the doorway as he carried little Nymphadora, who was hugging a stuffed hippogriff. The man stopped in front of his wife, staring in amazement at the gift that had been left in front of their house.

"It's a baby, Ted! Someone has left their baby here and in the middle of a storm!"

"There's got to be a note" Reasoned her husband, shaking with fright "If there isn't, maybe... maybe she was left here by mistake and we'll have to look for her parents.I s there a note? What does it say?"

The note Ted Tonks was referring to was nothing more than a piece of parchment worn and almost undone by the water in the basket. Andromeda held it up to the light to decipher the message, but all she could read was: "HER NAME IS (Y/N)". The message was accompanied only by a golden locket that had the image of a clay pot with hands that molded it; on the back were the initials '(Y/N) and an S at the end. Andromeda didn’t understand why.

Even with all that, they decided that they would keep little (Y/N) Lexington -that was the word that was engraved on the basket, with which Andromeda concluded that that must be your last name- at least until your real parents came back claiming that everything had been a big mistake. Years passed and no one went in search of you.

You caressed the necklace slowly, remembering the story your mother Andromeda told you, always telling you that, even though you were not her biological daughter, she loved you as much as if you were, and that Dora loved you as if you were her sister. So, you felt the need to help her in everything your sister asked you.

Your powers were strange, no one knew what they were due to, but the Tonks family never wondered even when they appeared out of nowhere, at five years of age and after having seriously injured Nymphadora. You decided it was best to leave for France and learn to use your powers away from your family.

Now you didn't know if Madame Maxime would let you go back home, after all, you had thought of quitting being a teacher to devote yourself fully to be an auror because for that you had studied day and night until exhaustion, however your intentions had been an enigma for Madame Maxime, who flatly refused to let you abandon your classes of defense against the dark arts. But, if Dora needed you, you had to be there, because there was nothing you wouldn't do for your sister.

Folding each of the letters, you approached your bed and with your wand made all your clothes fly out of the closet until they dropped into the open suitcase that rested under your chest of drawers. You deftly closed the latch and made it become the size of a coin, loading it into your front pocket. You opened the door and ran down the stairs.

You greeted every student you came across and even talked to each of them on your way to the principal's office. You started running, thinking that you had to be that very day at the address Dora had attached to you in the last letter she sent. You fixed your hair before you reached the office and knocked three times on the door. A light voice gave you the pass on the other side and you rushed in.

“Excusez moi madame” you said as you saw the headmistress sitting in front of her desk. On the other side sat a man you recognized as Byron Murphy, a senior auror who worked as an assistant teacher of defense against the dark arts. You frowned after Byron smiled at you" I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need to talk to you about something important.

"What is it, Professor?"

"I... well" You cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes "You see, my sister has written to me from England as a matter of urgency and she asked me to return home immediately”

"C'est du jamais vu!"Shouted the woman, kicking her desk. Byron jumped in his place "This must be a joke. Just today my two defense professors wish to resign, is this some kind of loving decision?”

Your cheeks soon turned into two shiny fresh tomatoes from the embarrassment. Byron looked at you with a raised eyebrow and held out his hand for you to take, wanting to play along with what the headmistress had just said. You shook it off, because you were not indifferent to the gossip going around the school about the two of you.

Byron Murphy would take any opportunity to be near you, and you even thought it was all a plan of the auror when Madame Maxime appointed him as assistant for defense against the dark arts; you soon learned that the class itself was very heavy and that even though you refused to accept Byron's help, you had no choice but to lean on him when things didn't turn out as arranged. Even with all that, the girls came up with that both of you were in a romantic relationship. There was the day you overheard your fourth graders whispering about how they had discovered that you and Professor Byron Murphy were getting married next winter. You punished them with extra homework.

"No, god, it's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"My sister needs me, ma’am. There's.... there's a matter in England that I must help her settle."

"What kind of matter?"

"Uh, well" You knew that the next thing you would say would seriously upset the headmistress, but you had no choice but to be honest and get out of there as soon as possible “She doesn't mention much about the situation, but in every letter she has sent me Albus Dumbledore's name comes up”

There was a long silence that was cut short when the huge headmistress stood up and the chair she was sitting in fell backwards causing a frightening clatter. You took a couple of steps back and tried to keep your hands as close to your wand as possible. Byron got up as well, walked over to you and stood next to you, holding your hand in case the situation got out of hand.

“Albus Dumbledore! That unfortunate little man! I've had enough of him since last year!”

“Are you referring to the Triwizard Tournament?” Byron asked

“Of course that's what I mean! That damned Tournament where Hogwarts had two winners, unfairly of course, but nothing could be done cause the laws of the damned Goblet were clear, weren't they? They didn't accept appeals. And then... what happened to that Diggory boy... what they said about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.... Albus Dumbledore is a liar!” You closed your eyes as a drop of spittle landed on your cheek. Byron shook his head

“You don't believe in the Dark Lord's return?”

“Of course not!” You both knew that the headmistress was really annoyed as her French accent became even more pronounced. You looked at Byron for a second before looking back at the angry woman “I've read about it in the newspaper, in The Daily Prophet, as they call it, Igor Karkarov has kept me informed of the matter.

“Do you still have contact with that man?”

“Sure do i! He and I have been friends for years and he has been affected by the thing as well. The poor man has had to hide in a hut on the outskirts of Bulgaria from where he has been able to get hold of influences who send him copies of the newspaper every month. Otherwise we would both be in the dark. So i’m very sorry for what i’m about to tell you, Professor Lexington, but I will not accept any kind of resignation on your part.

“Madame, if you'll just let me....”

“Much less when you plan to join Dumbledore's madness. I'm sorry, but you'd better get back to your classes”

The thing was, that the issue was about more than just Dumbledore, it was about protecting your family, your friends and in the worst case scenario, the entire magical community. You may not have been present at Hogwarts a year ago, but you firmly believed what Dora had told you about Cedric Diggory's murder; there was no reason not to believe in the Dark Lord's return, cause even those who were Death Eaters had been disappearing overnight. And you firmly believed in your sister's word, she, being an auror, was aware of the severity  of the situation and that's why she was strongly asking you to go back home and help her in any way you could.

No, you couldn't stay at Beauxbatons for a second longer.

"It is a pity that you don’t accept my motives, Madame, but I have already made up my mind. I have packed my bags and will leave immediately with or without your approval" The woman was about to retort, however, you stopped her "I believe in my sister's word and of course I believe in Lord Voldemort's return.

"Don't say his name!" Madame Maxime shrieked, covering her ears. Byron shuddered

"Cedric Diggory shouldn’t have died and we mustn’t stand idly by; there are people out there fighting and dying at the hands of dark magic, spreading fear and starting an internal war that we may never be able to get out of. Desolé, madame, but I cannot stay out of this. I have learned much here, and even managed to control my powers, despite that, i’m loyal to my family and, therefore, i’m loyal to Albus Dumbledore.

You turned around, ready to leave when the giant's powerful voice stopped you.

"Professor Lexington, are you aware that if you leave the school you will never return?"

You looked at her over your shoulder

"Believe me, Madame, if you refuse to believe in the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and try to make others believe it is so, then I have no desire to return."

Leaving the office, you ran down the stairs trying to get to the front door. After all, from France to London wasn't too long a walk, you could just disappear and show up at the place Dora had marked for you. You would if you had the slightest idea where that place was.

A few hurried footsteps followed you, stopping you in front of the main door.

It was Byron, who was carrying a small suitcase on his back.

“Hey, you don't have to run away from me, honey”

“Leave me alone, Byron”

“Well, okay, listen” He grabbed you by the cheeks as you tried to leave the castle. Your eyes met his, noticing how a smile began to form on his lips “What you said to Olympe was wonderful, it really was. And you of all people know that I also believe in the return of you-know-who”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I was about to tell Madame Maxime my reasons to resigning  when you arrived”

“What are those reasons?”

Byron smiled sideways, stroking your cheeks.

“I want to fight against Lord Voldemort”

“What”

“Just as you hear, dear. After all, that's our job as Aurors, isn't it? I can't stay in this castle and pretend to be a teacher when they may need me out there. I've heard about the Order of the Phoenix, about Albus Dumbledore, his name is going around the world. So i want to be a part of it too”

“Byron...”

“Just... let me come with you, okay? You'll need all the help you can get”

Byron being an auror of a higher rank made everything easier, because then you would have extra help against the Dark Lord; however, you weren't prepared to be around him any longer than necessary. Byron stroked your cheek and, smiling, he opened the door for you. You sighed, taking his hand to disappear from there together.

[bangtancentricsblog]

❀ through the centuries

↳ this was part of an ask game that the lovely Mo @suhdays was nice enough to play with me so as a repayment I wrote this 💕

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, a sprinkle of angst

❒ alternative universe: werewolf, mythical, strangers to lovers, soulmate haha…

❒ rating: NC 17

❒ word count: 1.5k +

warnings/disclosures: my size kink kinda jumped out a little bit but not that bad, sheriff Jungkook, cameos from Jaehyun of NCT, Yugyeom of GOT7, Jungkook had a fwb, werewolf jungkook, demi-god mc, magic, some made up story of the how soul mates came to be, jungkook bites MC but like playfully, unedited as always!!

“I literally can’t stand you.” you laugh, smiling up at Jungkook as he offers you a mug. It’s been a little over half a year since you’ve met and though for the most part he is insufferable there is something oddly endearing about him.

“I’m aware.” He says the glimmer to his eyes heats your cheeks so much that you have to turn away. You’re tucked into the corner of his breakfast nook in some of the comfiest sweats you have ever worn, the sun filters through the windows and you bask in its warmth. This home is nothing like your own, it's warmer, more inviting, cozy even, just like Jungkook. He didn't question your appearance at his doorstep all that time ago, had only smiled warmly stepping aside to let you in.

“I have to get to work soon, but you should be fine on your own ‘til I come back for lunch.” He’s humming as he sips from his mug, a cute little song that you now recognize as something that comes from his pack.

“Do you miss your pack?” you murmur, the words are out too quick, slipping past your lips before you can stop them.

“Sometimes, mostly the sense of belonging and my brothers of course.” he answers with a sad smile. Your heart aches for him, a strange sensation in itself since your family holds little warmth, their sense of duty to your goddess always came first. There were no soothing words or warm smiles at any point in your life. Not that you had noticed, it wasn't normal for families to be affectionate, they only taught you what was needed to serve the goddess and keep the bloodline pure.

“I wonder what that’s like.” you sigh taking a sip from your mug, and Jungkook doesn't miss your happy little wiggle as the taste of hot chocolate washes over your tongue. He shoots you one last smile, filling his travel mug, rounding the corner of his kitchen island and running his fingers through your hair.

“I’ll see at lunch, don't get into any trouble while I’m gone.” There’s a tingle in your fingertips, one that settles your racing thoughts and washes over you like a cool rain. You feel so small when you’re with Jungkook, a strange feeling when you yourself are what you’d like to think is normal sized. But Jungkook is big everywhere, just the thought of having seen him so indecently heats your skin once more. It was improper and you prayed the goddess forgave you for your transgressions before marriage. You’re suddenly reminded of just how early it is as the silence settles around you with Jungkook’s absence. Something that makes you more uncomfortable than you’re willing to admit.

The sigh you let out is heavy, breaking the silence if only for a moment, it helps to settle the energy that is abuz in your being. A feeling you are growing more and more accustomed to as the days pass. You suppose you should get started on your daily routine since you are already up and more than awake. After all, the goddess shines down on those who are hardworking.

**

“So are you gonna tell us about your girlfriend?” Yugyeom starts shooting a smirk at Jaehyun who scowls in return.

“That’s literally none of your business.” Jungkook laughs as he types his report.

“No, I really think it is. Some smoking hot girl shows up at your house and you just let her live with you? There’s got to be some story to that.” he says throwing his hands up.

“There isn't, she's a family friend.”

“Wait till Yuna catches wind of this.” Yuyeom laughs before shuffling over to his desk at the back of the station. Jungkook stops typing, gaze moving to Yuna who sits at the reception desk up front. He’s never had anything with her, not really, a hook up here and there but nothing serious at least he hadn't thought so at first. Though if he really thinks about it, like really thinks maybe she had thought something of it? She did leave her clothes at his, and she was constantly sleeping over when they did spend the night together. Hell he’d even taken her to get pancakes at the local diner from time to time but that wasn't enough to make her believe they were an item was it?

“Don’t think about it too hard Kook, Yuna won't think too much about it so you shouldn't either.” Jaehyun says a smile tilting his lips upwards.

“Thanks, I hope you’re right.” he breathes offering a tight lipped smile and going back to his report.

*

Unfortunately Jaehyun is wrong, so very wrong. Yuna had managed to corner Jungkook on his way out of the sheriff station at their lunch break, her arms easily wrapping around his neck as she pressed heated kisses to any skin available to her. He’s not quite sure where to put his hands, as he holds them up and away from her, and it doesn't go unnoticed. She’s quick to peak at him from under her lashes, gaze fogged up with what he assumes would've been enough for him once, but all he can think about right now is the invisible tether that pulls him home, pulls him to you.

“What’s wrong baby?” she asks somewhat breathlessly as she manages to pull herself away from him.

“Yuna listen, we aren’t - well y’know we aren't a couple right?” He feels like he breathes again when her scent no longer drowns his senses, it’s not unpleasant by any means just very pungent. Something that churns his stomach, he rubs at his neck a bit as nerves take over his being, his wolf growing restless before he catches it. The light woody scent that clings to his wrist, one that settles the impatient animal that was roused from it’s slumber the moment she’d pressed herself to his form. His chest rumbles softly almost like a purr one that Yuna doesn’t catch with her human hearing.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just that we weren’t exclusive or anything and this is just a me thing not a you thing.” he says somewhat awkwardly, he takes in her form watching the emotions play out on her face before she deflates.

“Oh,” she starts after a brief silence “yeah, I knew that.” she sniffles, quickly turning away and leaving. He feels terrible, after all he isn’t trying to be a dick but his wolf is whining at him to get home already, to you.

“Shit, it’s gonna be awkward when i get back.” he sighs running a hand through his hair.

**

You hear Jungkook before you see him, the sound of his footfalls is light but not as light as he thinks. The sun is peeking out at you from behind a cloud, and you thank the goddess for the oncoming rain, not that anyone would believe you if you said to expect rain. Heat blankets your back as Jungkook cages you against the counter, resting his head against your shoulder. He spends some time breathing you in, relishing in your scent and that other thing that he has yet to name but has his wolf presenting his belly.

“I’m so tired.” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you. You perk up craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him when you feel the familiar press of teeth through the fabric of your shirt.

“Are you okay?” you ask, placing your hands atop his where they rest on your stomach.

“Yeah, just tired. Yugyeom asked about you again.”

“Hmm, I should meet him soon. Take an umbrella when you leave, there's rain coming.” you laugh as he nuzzles your neck, the stress from earlier in the day melts away, Jungkook can almost feel the way it leaves his body as he begins to rock you gently. It’s as you two eat lunch together that he finally understands what this unfamiliar feeling is called.

He’s rinsing the dishes, hearing you hum the song from his pack that he recalls a story told to him when he was a pup. A fantastical tale of a goddess whose lover was taken from her, hidden by others who were jealous of their love and cursed to roam the earth as half god half beast. It was only when the moon was full did she find her lover, and thus had created what was once called a mate. A being that was the literal embodiment of the purity of their love but overtime had faded out as the bloodlines continued. He recalls his mother telling him that he and his brothers were the last of his pack that still held the blood of the goddess’ lover though somewhat muddied still carried something that pure. She had claimed they were destined for greatness just as the old goddess and her lover as their ancestors. That one day they would find their mate and they would know.

“Jungkook, are you listening?” you ask, tone soft as you grin up at him. Something in his being shift, he can almost hear it click into place. The air feels electric, your shine so bright almost like the golden light from a full moon, it’s here that he knows he’s found you. His goddess, his mate.

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week 2021 Round-up

Alex Rider Ship Week 2021 is over and thank you everyone for participating! We had some fantastic fics and art and fanvids and I’m really happy to share them with you all. 

Even though it’s over the AO3 collection will remain open and late entries are very much welcome.

Enjoy the fanworks and let me know if I’ve missed anything!

⛓️ POSSESSIVENESS ⛓️

A Caress of Steel (Chapter 1) by fredbasset When Alex is sent undercover to investigate a possible paedophile ring, MI6 assure him he will be extracted from the situation at the first hint of trouble. Yeah, right, they’ve said that before, so why the fuck does he keep believing them? Yassen/Alex

Run in the Dark by lanprey It couldn’t be, he thought. The experiments in Estrov had stripped away his designation. He had long concluded that he was no different from a beta; nothing in the past six years suggested otherwise. Yassen wasn’t completely truthful in the last pages of his diary. His story with John hadn’t ended in Paris. John/Yassen

When to Fold (Chapter 1) by BurntWhisper and Ireliss “I’m not yours, Yassen,” Alex had said the last time they had seen one another. “Do what you like. But if you’re not going to listen to me, you don’t get to dictate what I do.” In which, after eighteen months apart, Alex and Yassen are forced to confront what they really want. Yassen/Alex

✨ SUPERNATURAL ✨

A Beautiful Heartbreak by AmbiiUmm69 When Alex comes back from his last mission, something feels different. But surely it won't be that bad, right? Tom/Alex

Tethered (Chapter 1) by fredbasset And this is why I sojourn here, / Alone and palely loitering, / Though the sedge is withered from the lake, / And no birds sing. La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats. Yassen/Alex

The Cat That Got the Cream by Rirren Alex didn't mean to trigger a strange cat's heat. Yassen/Alex

🏚️ CAPTIVITY 🏚️

A Caress of Steel (Chapter 2) by fredbasset When Alex is sent undercover to investigate a possible paedophile ring, MI6 assure him he will be extracted from the situation at the first hint of trouble. Yeah, right, they’ve said that before, so why the fuck does he keep believing them? Yassen/Alex

When to Fold (Chapter 2) by BurntWhisper and Ireliss “I’m not yours, Yassen,” Alex had said the last time they had seen one another. “Do what you like. But if you’re not going to listen to me, you don’t get to dictate what I do.” In which, after eighteen months apart, Alex and Yassen are forced to confront what they really want. Yassen/Alex

The Dacha - An Interlude by Anonymous Yassen spent four years living in servitude at Vladimir Sharkovsky's dacha outside Moscow. With no one looking for him, there was no limit to the depravity the Sharkovskys subjected him to. Every day was seemingly worse than the last. Yassen/Sharkovsky

All You Have is Your Fire by MS_Mayhem After Alex had been missing for three years, Yassen is forced to go to the MI6 for help in finding his love, but is he too late? Yassen/Alex

Art by MS_Mayhem Art for 'All You Have is Your Fire. Yassen/Alex

🏡 DOMESTICITY🏡

The Best of Times is Now by OlyaNeverWrites John Rider's extraction in Mdina goes off without a hitch, and several months later, Hunter is dead and John, Helen, and Alex Rider make a new life for themselves in a peaceful village in the South of France. One afternoon, an unexpected guest shows up on their doorstep. John/Helen

Chilli and Chilling by fredbasset Chilli and chilling. And a shag in the shower. Tom/Alex

Some Kind of Sin by lanprey “This is not a marriage! This is the world’s worst hangover!” – Friends, The One After Vegas Yassen/Alex

Tethered (Chapter 2) by fredbasset And this is why I sojourn here, / Alone and palely loitering, / Though the sedge is withered from the lake, / And no birds sing. La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats. Yassen/Alex

Bad Days, Better Nights by Suzie_Shooter Epilogue to Dead Man Walking set a short time later - two separate pieces of domestic fluff written to follow-on, but can be read as a stand-alone. Yassen/Alex

What time is it? Summertime (Chapter 1) by moo_said_the_cow Yassen and John have been busy for a while now. With summer looming, John puts his foot down and insists they be given a few months off assassinating for some much needed rest and relaxation. John/Yassen

🔪 DANGER KINKS 🔪

A Caress of Steel (Chapter 3) by fredbasset When Alex is sent undercover to investigate a possible paedophile ring, MI6 assure him he will be extracted from the situation at the first hint of trouble. Yeah, right, they’ve said that before, so why the fuck does he keep believing them? Yassen/Alex

When to Fold (Chapter 3) by BurntWhisper and Ireliss “I’m not yours, Yassen,” Alex had said the last time they had seen one another. “Do what you like. But if you’re not going to listen to me, you don’t get to dictate what I do.” In which, after eighteen months apart, Alex and Yassen are forced to confront what they really want. Yassen/Alex

🚗 ROAD TRIP 🚗

Road Trip Art (AO3 link) by MS_Mayhem Alex/Yassen

I Spy by fredbasset When a job takes an unexpected turn, Ian has to go on a road trip with a very irritating prisoner. Ian/Yassen

🙅 NONCON/DUBCON 🙅

A Caress of Steel (Chapter 4) by fredbasset When Alex is sent undercover to investigate a possible paedophile ring, MI6 assure him he will be extracted from the situation at the first hint of trouble. Yeah, right, they’ve said that before, so why the fuck does he keep believing them? Yassen/Alex

Open Hand or Closed Fist would Be Fine by MS_Mayhem For AR Ship Week, Day 4: Non Con. Yassen/Alex

Alex art by MS_Mayhem Art for fic 'Open Hand or Closed Fist would Be Fine'. Yassen/Alex

What time is it? Summertime (Chapter 2) by moo_said_the_cow Yassen and John have been busy for a while now. With summer looming, John puts his foot down and insists they be given a few months off assassinating for some much needed rest and relaxation. John/Yassen

A Consummate Professional by Rirren Cray has an altogether more humiliating idea to shut Alex up. Yassen/Alex

💏 INTIMACY 💏

When to Fold (Chapter 4) by BurntWhisper and Ireliss “I’m not yours, Yassen,” Alex had said the last time they had seen one another. “Do what you like. But if you’re not going to listen to me, you don’t get to dictate what I do.” In which, after eighteen months apart, Alex and Yassen are forced to confront what they really want. Yassen/Alex

Coins in the Fountain by fredbasset Ten years ago, Monica Peretti employed a contract killer to end her life. The assassin refused and returned the fee (minus his expenses, naturally). Every year, she remembers. Every year, she hopes. Yassen/Monica Peretti

Cold by irlnewt This takes place during Nightshade, after they escaped and they’re in the cinema together for the night. Alex/Freddy Gray

Hold Me Tight, Hold Me Close by qwerkywriter After Alex's Point Blanc mission, Tom makes an attempt to recalibrate their friendship via hugs. or Alex is a sad boi who needs a hug. Tom/Alex

🕵️ MISSIONS 🕵️

A Caress of Steel (Chapter 5) by fredbasset When Alex is sent undercover to investigate a possible paedophile ring, MI6 assure him he will be extracted from the situation at the first hint of trouble. Yeah, right, they’ve said that before, so why the fuck does he keep believing them? Yassen/Alex

When to Fold (Chapter 5) by BurntWhisper and Ireliss “I’m not yours, Yassen,” Alex had said the last time they had seen one another. “Do what you like. But if you’re not going to listen to me, you don’t get to dictate what I do.” In which, after eighteen months apart, Alex and Yassen are forced to confront what they really want. Yassen/Alex

Organ Harvesting 2: Electric Boogaloo by MS_Mayhem It was supposed to be a simple job. They were sent to retrieve some data regarding a large-scale drug operation, but as usual when Alex Rider was involved, things had gotten more complicated. Yassen/Alex

Sleeping with the Enemy by Suzie_Shooter Alex has been working for MI6 for five years when they give him his most unexpected task yet – seduce Yassen Gregorovich. It’s meant to be a one-off for the purposes of attaching a bio-tracker, but somehow both of them keep coming back for more. Which wasn’t quite what MI6 had in mind. Yassen/Alex

Art by nightshade2412 TV!verse Snake/Eagle for Alex Rider Ship Week prompt “missions”. Snake/Eagle

🤸 ROLE REVERSAL 🤸

Between a Rock and a Hard Place by Suzie_Shooter Role reversal AU. The destruction of Estrov never happened and Yassen grew up to become a helicopter pilot like he always wanted. Alex was still orphaned as a baby, but was adopted by Ash rather than Ian and grew up as Scorpia’s golden boy. But now Scorpia are in need of a pilot, and two worlds are about to collide after all... Yassen/Alex

Planning and Preparation by fredbasset When Alex goes undercover at a banking and investment conference, no one (apart from Yvette in Accounts) expects the dry cleaning bills to be so high. Yassen/Alex

Power Play by Suzie_Shooter Written for the kinkmeme prompt: “The last time Yassen saw Alex he was 14 and smol. Now, after a few years away Yassen sees 18/19yo post-pubescent Alex for the first time and is shocked to find Alex is 6'4" and built like the proverbial brick outhouse. And ofc he finds it really hot that Alex can loom over him and manhandle him a bit. Anything else goes, just big focus on the fact post-growth spurt Alex is bigger and bulkier than Yassen by a considerable margin. Bottom!Yassen would be blessed.” Yassen/Alex

🧪 DISTORTED PERCEPTIONS 🧪

A Caress of Steel (Chapter 6) by fredbasset When Alex is sent undercover to investigate a possible paedophile ring, MI6 assure him he will be extracted from the situation at the first hint of trouble. Yeah, right, they’ve said that before, so why the fuck does he keep believing them? Yassen/Alex

Art by nightshade2412 This is a Devil!verse pairing that came up a couple years ago and I’ve been wanting to create for it ever since, so this is well overdue. Jack/Jet

🥰 PRAISE KINK 🥰

If Wishes Were Horses by fredbasset There are some lines John Rider is determined not to cross, but when working deep cover, sometimes such lines are negotiable. John/Yassen

🔒 SECRETS 🔒

A Caress of Steel (Chapter 7) by fredbasset When Alex is sent undercover to investigate a possible paedophile ring, MI6 assure him he will be extracted from the situation at the first hint of trouble. Yeah, right, they’ve said that before, so why the fuck does he keep believing them? Yassen/Alex

To the Sea for Feelings Deep Blue / Somewhere Between Psychotic and Iconic by lanluto Fan Video with creator commentary: John and Helen, Alex Rider's parents, meet at Oxford and fall in love, but John's secret undercover work with MI6 causes a lot of upheaval in their relationship. John has infiltrated the terrorist organization Scorpia as an assassin-for-hire with callsign “Hunter”. He risks blowing his cover to meet Helen at Sacré-Coeur in Paris. John/Helen

🌌 ALTERNATE UNIVERSE 🌌

Beyond the Fragments by OlyaNeverWrites “You let me think she died... There are a million fucking questions with answers I’ll never get, but there was one person who might have a few of them. And you kept that from me. You owed me the truth about this. You owed me.” “We were trying to protect you…” “Mrs. Jones, kindly get fucked. Alex Rider never wanted to be a spy. She certainly never expected to strike up a friendship with the terrifying assassin who killed him. So why do she and Yasha Grigoryeva keep running into each other? And why does Alex never do the smart thing and run screaming into the hills whenever she sees her? Yassen/Alex

[rosy-wooyoung]

Husband series [4/8] | Yeosang

Word count: 2.7k Pairing: ex-husband!, police officer! Seonghwa x single mom! reader x prosecutor! Yeosang (police officers! San and Wooyoung, but they’re just here for the drama)  Genre: fluff A/N: I took characters from my “he needs someone” imagine (i thought it’d be funnier ;) )

You had met Seonghwa when you were still quite young. He was a young police officer and you worked in a pretty big company, meeting each other was something quite hard due to your busy schedules. At first, you were surprised that he was a police officer and his stone-cold face, but when he warmed up to you, he was a whole other person. He was smiling and laughing, happy to be in your company. He didn't have to pretend or show any form of authority when you were around.

The only cloud on the horizon of your relationship was his work. He did day and night shifts, tiring him out in every way possible, making him so exhausted that every time he had some free time, he spent it sleeping or working out. You almost put a stop to your relationship because of this, but you managed to make it work. You were patient but you craved his affection but being in a relationship and not getting a lot of attention was frustrating. After a few months, he was asked to change shifts and got more free time. The service he was in wasn’t his cup of tea, but at least you got to see him more. Yes, he was grumpier and more irritable, but you managed to calm him down and clear out his problems with your affection.

You were very much in love with each other, it almost looked like a fairy-tale. He asked you to marry him a few weeks after learning that you were expecting your first child together, bringing you nothing but happiness. Seonghwa was required to change shifts again, him feeling very unhappy as his job wasn’t something he enjoyed. He ended up in the patrol team and everything started again. His work invaded your love life and almost ruined everything, so one night, you made your husband promise you something.

“Promise that, when our child will arrive, you’ll take days off to take care of us. The law allows a few days or week of paternity leave, so I need you to take them.” “I promise, honey,” he said as he linked his pinkie with yours with a wink.

Liar. You never knew where those promised free days went. After the birth of your son, Haneul, Seonghwa disappeared. He buried himself into his work and duties as if he weren’t ready to take care of a child, as if he were running away from his responsibilities. You had cried for nights, even days when he was in patrol, where you needed him the most. He was supposed to be home to help you out, take care of your child to let you rest, but he was never there. And when he came home, he was exhausted, almost dodging eating and showering. He was running away from you and your son like you were the plague, and it hurt you.

Your patience lasted two years, which was something you found rather impressive. One day, you were at the end of your tether, so you impulsively called a close friend of yours, who luckily was a lawyer. You filled divorce papers behind Seonghwa’s back and presented him the paper one night when he came back from his shift.

“Here, sign this.” You said as you placed the papers on the table, handing him a pen. “What for?” you didn’t answer and observed his jaw drop when he read the title of the contract. “Are you serious?” Seonghwa said, his voice wavering. It was rare to see the police officer lose his composure. “Are we really getting divorced?” “Yes, we are.” You declared, trying to stay as stoic as possible. “We made a common agreement that you’d take days off to help me with the baby, but since his birth, I haven’t seen you an entire day at home.” “I know baby, I’m sorry-” “Let me finish. I know your work is exhausting and the forces of order need you, but I need you too! Haneul needs you too, he needs his father to be home, to help him and watch him grow up. I need you to be here to help me, take care of things that could allow me to rest a bit. It’s tiring to be a mother too, you know! You didn’t keep your promise and I can’t live as if I was a single mom when I'm married, this is why I want you to fill out this form.” Seonghwa clenched his jaw but didn’t allow his tears to fall down, letting your words sink in his brain.

You were right and he was doomed. He wouldn’t be able to change your mind. Sadly, oh so sadly, he had lost the family he had started creating and there was nothing he could do against it. He made a huge mistake, the wound was too fresh and deep to stitch it. He swallowed thickly and unwillingly signed the paper under your watch, sniffing as he handed you the pen and papers.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know it’s not an excuse, but I got scared. I know for a police officer, I’m such a coward, but I was scared to be short on money, so I worked harder and longer. I know that I shouldn’t have done this, but I was so scared and- I’m really sorry I messed up, that’s all I can say.” You sharply inhaled and took the papers from his grip, going to your shared bedroom, leaving your now ex-husband sheepishly standing up in the living room.

After weeks of moving out, moving on and start your life at the other side of the town, you were ready to give another try to dating. You had a few fails, men chickening out as they learnt that you were divorced and had a child. It saddened you and made you feel a bit unlovable, but your friend tried her best to make you feel better. One night, she called you as you had just put Haneul to bed, quickly answering as you didn’t want the ringtone to wake your son up.

“Y/N! I’m glad you answered. I have tea and it’s boiling hot!” your friend exclaimed through the phone as you gulped down a sip of water. “Tell me about it,” you slightly laughed as you sat down on your small couch, taking a quick break from being a mother. “So, I had a case last week and I got to meet my new boss, the new prosecutor.” “The one who replaces Mr Choi?” you asked and you could almost hear your friend nod on the other side of the phone. “Exactly- god, it was time for him to go I swear. But anyway, don't change the subject! Something happened this afternoon and you are involved too!” “Me?” you exclaimed, tilting your head and frowning, “what do you mean?” “You know, I have a picture of us in holidays framed on my desk. It was when we went to Paris, do you remember? And then, Mr Kang – the new prosecutor – came to my desk to give me something and he asked me if you were my sister. He looked IN LOVE I swear, he kept looking at you on the photo.” “You’re going crazy,” you snorted at her words but still felt your cheeks heat up. “I promise you that I’m not. Come at work once and the new prosecutor will be head over heels for you. I’m sure you’ll like him since you seem to have a thing for men in the justice system.” “Stop,” you almost yelled and giggled, knowing that she was right. “Try me,” she provoked you and you laughed together, “come have lunch with me tomorrow, if he’s not dead in love for you then you will at least get to eat with your best friend. Does it sound like a plan to you?” "A good plan. Alright,” you huffed, fake annoyed and grinned as your friend groaned over the phone.

As promised, you went out for lunch with your friend and managed to make up for the lost time, relaxed, your son eating at the day-care centre for once. He loved his teachers and the other children, so it wasn’t an issue for him to eat at school. Coming back from the restaurant, you walked with her in her work building, only to have her squeezing your forearm to get your attention, as you were going to go into the elevator.

“Look, he’s here.” “Who?” “Your future boyfriend, you idiot!” She whispered and you looked up, only to be met with hazel eyes. The man was walking a few meters away from you with a colleague, still wearing his prosecutor robe. You gulped and he slightly nodded his head your way to greet you, a small smile on his face as he walked past you. “See? I told you that he was your type.” Your friend proudly said, and you elbowed her, red flushing your cheeks. You didn’t answer and it was her turn to elbow you in the ribs. “Hm? Admit he’s your type.” “Okay, he’s fine. Are you happy now?”

“I’m only “fine”?” you both froze as you heard a deep voice behind you. You glared at your friend and she smirked at you, smiling at her boss and hastily walk towards the elevators. You turned around with an embarrassed smile and faced the handsome prosecutor. “Now, that’s embarrassing,” you mumbled and he laughed, tenderly looking at you. “It’s alright, I’m just teasing,” he said and you exhaled, relieved but you froze again at his words. “Are you free tonight? I want to get to know you," he asked as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You fell speechless and it took you seconds to register what he said. “Are you serious?” that’s all you managed to say and he nodded with a smile. “Do I look like I’m joking?” you shook your head but nodded right after. Confused and embarrassed, you whined and looked away. “Alright, I know a good place downtown. How about we meet there at 8 pm?” “Sounds good to me.” You answered and he beamed again, each smile making your heart melt a little more.

It was 7:55pm and you were already there, asking for a table for two. You ordered a lemonade and waited for your date to come, hoping that you wouldn’t be stood up on your first date. You gulped another sip of the sparkling water and almost choked as the prosecutor sat in front of you. Your change of clothes didn't go unnoticed to your date's face and you smiled as he complimented you on the dark blue dress you were wearing.

Everything went well, you finally got to know his name and Yeosang was a word that easily rolled off your tongue. You didn’t know but he loved it when you said his name and vice versa. He was sweet and intelligent, passionate about his work. Fortunately, he wasn't the type to only talk about him and he got to discover your centre of interests as well. He even started flirting, which was delicately done, never overstepping boundaries.

Your phone started ringing as Yeosang ordered dessert for the two of you, eyes going wide when you recognised the phone number of the day-care teacher. You excused yourself from the table and Yeosang nodded, giving the menu back to the waiter. The day-care centre was closing, and you needed to pick Haneul up, making you suddenly feel stuck. You told the woman that you’d get there as quickly as possible, but you might be a little late. You worryingly came back into the restaurant and Yeosang immediately frowned at your distressed state.

“Is everything alright?” you nodded, despite being on the verge of tears. The frown on Yeosang’s face never left and you deeply inhaled, ready to tell him the truth. "I know you're not, tell me what's wrong." He searched for your gaze but never caught it. “I- I need to pick up my son at the day-care centre because it’s about to close.” You mumbled, hoping that he’d never hear it, but of course he did, his eyes widening. “You have a child?” he said, and you nodded, your eyes never leaving the white tablecloth. A hesitant hand came across the table and rested against your trembling one. “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to eat dessert.” “Don't think too much about it. Let’s pick your little boy up.” He stood up and encouraged you to imitate him before catching a waiter’s attention to cancel your orders and went to pay the bill.

You exhaled and sent a quick message to your friend that your date would probably not see you again and she answered you almost immediately.

“What do you mean???” “That’s nonsense Y/N.” “Let’s talk about it when you are relaxed and have more time, alright? xx”

You faintly smiled at your friend’s words and felt a presence behind you. Yeosang smiled at you and softly laid his hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go?” you nodded, and he walked you to his car, opening the passenger seat for you.

The ride to the day-care centre was dead silent and you’ve never felt so oppressed in your life. Why did you have to grow attached to him over a single date, when he was most likely to drop you after driving you home with your child?

“I’m really sorry, miss, I didn't see the time.” You said as soon as your son's teacher came into sight, patiently waiting for you with your son next to her. “It’s okay, I’m glad you made it safely here. Have a good evening and see you tomorrow!” she said with a smile before going back inside the centre. Before you could give Yeosang any further explanation, you heard the roaring sound of another car pulling up by the centre.

A police car.

Your ex-husband and two of his colleagues (who you recognised to be San and Wooyoung, the former being Haneul's godfather) got out of the car. Your ex-husband searched for your child and stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you and the man standing next to you, who was stroking Haneul’s cheek as you carried him.

“Seonghwa,” you said in a breath and Yeosang looked up. His eyes darkened and stopped touching your son’s cheek, clearing his throat. “Officer Park,” he said, extending his hand. “Prosecutor Kang,” your ex-husband answered, shaking it and you almost fainted.

Of course, the two of them had to know each other. Of course, they had to work together in the past. That’s what you got by dating men from the law. San eyed you out of the corner of his eye and tried to send you a warming smile as he noticed your distressed state.

“So?” Seonghwa said and you took action, turning towards Yeosang. “Yeosang, I’m going to make this clear and quick. This is my ex-husband, officer Park Seonghwa and he’s also Haneul’s father. You can do anything, get into a fight or yell at each other, call me a wimp, I don’t care, I’m going home. It might be cowardly from me but it’s too early now.” You said on the verge of tears and walked towards Yeosang’s car, your decision played with Seonghwa’s heartstrings, secretly hoping that you would walk towards his. You saw San's eyes widening and Wooyoung gasped, only to fall silent as your ex darkly stared at him. Seonghwa sighed, nodding at Yeosang, who was genuinely confused. The police officer sat back in his car but never drove away, head filled with thoughts, his colleagues following him only seconds later after waving one last time to Haneul. The prosecutor started his car after you closed your car door and drove you home without a word.

“Thanks for the date,” you gloomily mumbled as you neared your apartment building. “I had a lot of pleasure to get to know you.” He whispered back, checking if your son was sleeping, and he was. You faintly smiled at him and were about to leave his car when he stopped you by delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Will I get to see you again?”

[echotovalley]

hello i am very much here for your klance + blue lion meta ☕

I cannot believe my browser crashed the first time I typed this up and nothing was saved. I tried my best to remember what I could - there are parts that I know are missing that can’t remember right and it’s so frustrating because I was really proud of them. nonetheless -

okay, everyone get comfortable because this is gonna get lengthy

I’ve always been interested in episode one, when everyone is standing in front of Keith’s conspiracy board and Keith is talking about hearing/feeling something calling him out into the desert, that’s it’s the Blue lion. He has no idea what it could be, but it’s all encompassing and he can’t ignore it.

Just this voice that’s maybe not even a voice in its completed form, the whisper of something that wants him to find it. He probably hopes against hope that it’s something about the Kerberos mission attempted to be covered up by the Garrison, something that will link him to finding Shiro.

He’s always gone with his instincts.

((there was a great transition between these bits that is forever lost to the sands of time and I weep))

Dial back 18 or 19 years (maybe even more), when Unnamed Kogane and Krolia find the Blue lion and even though they can’t interact with or enter her, they decide to protect her together. She’s the key to peace and protection for more worlds than could be counted and of course they’re going to do everything they can. The form a bond with her that way - words aren’t always needed.

You can tear Keith’s dad and Krolia showing Blue bby Keef from my cold, dead hands. But I think the Blue Lion knew what was up. Perhaps when she stood guard behind her shield and they made the pact to protect her. But definitely the second she saw this shock of dark hair peeking out from a big blanket, she knew. There’s the familiar curl of warmth she hasn’t felt in so long, a small spark in this new life. The flicker of the spirit of an old friend, Red.

The Galra are tearing apart galaxies and this tiny baby is the bridge between worlds and he doesn’t even know how special he is. How so loved he will be as a paladin. What Krolia and Keith’s dad know for sure is that they would in time teach Keith to look out for her too.

But things don’t always go as planned, do they? Thing have a way of coming apart at the seams and no matter how much restitching you do, it never comes back the same way it did before.

Krolia leaves - to protect the Blue lion and keep the Galra away from earth, away from the family she has made (something she possibly never thought of having because of her career withing the Blade). In an effort to not ruin the work they’ve put in to keep the Blue lion safe and to protect their son, Keith’s dad stops taking Keith to the cave. Maybe stops going all together. His son is his shadow and follows behind him even when he’s specifically told not to.

Besides, he trusts and believes in Krolia to keep the Blue lion and them safe.

So, Keith would have no memory of the Blue lion or her location.

Wouldn’t have the faintest idea that it’s a 10k+ year old sentient lion from outerspace that never forgot him and knew the someday they were meant to see each other again was fast approaching.

I have a separate headcanon that Krolia thinks about being selfish, she should have brought Keith’s dad and Keith with her and hidden them on a safe planet where Keith would grow up knowing he had a mother that loved him more than words. If Keith was always meant to be part of the war she fought so hard to keep away from him, then she could have taken that chance. Maybe his father would still be alive, but if he wasn’t meant to live in this timeline, then at least she could be there for Keith.

But if he was with her, then he never would have met his team the way he did.

Now Keith wasn’t the sole person to bring everyone together, the universe put a lot on this boy just from being born, but everyone had their part in bringing each other together featuring the seven degrees of separation between the Kerberos crew and the Garrison trio.

Pidge had her suspicions, broke into places for documents and created an entirely new identity to infiltrate the Garrison to get the answers and the proof and find her family.

It just so happens that she winds up on assignment with Lance.

Lance who is nosy and wants to figure out what’s going on in that funky, little dude’s head to have him breaking curfew and sneaking out into the desert in the middle of the night with enough tech and equipment on his back to trap a ghost.

And because Pidge isn’t the only Garrison cadet Lance is trying to figure out - their destiny is spelled out the second Lance recognizes Keith also breaking curfew and government laws to infiltrate the pop-up tent of lies.

Things start to fall into place

Lance only knew Pidge as Pidge, he had no idea that his new teammate was the direct family of Sam and Matt Holt undercover. He and Hunk didn’t have a reason to question the fate of the Kerberos crew and the official ruling of the Garrison. It didn’t occur to him to suspect that there was something bigger going on.

Now we’re going to get into the promised klance part.

The lore of the lions is unquestionable and will not be rewritten or overridden. They’re sentient beings whose purpose is to bring peace and protection through means that surpass race and species and time. They won’t let just anyone into their world, into the pilot chairs of giants.

The connection between a lion and their paladin is definite and all-in.

Isn’t it interesting that the Blue lion called out to Keith?

Or that he felt her presence, whichever way you want to look at it.

I will take A:TLA’s ‘friendships can last more than one lifetime’ everywhere I go. Add to that, season one was very deliberate and concise in it’s storytelling, there weren’t coincidences. I’m not saying the Lions are psychic, but I think they know who would be destined to be their paladin. Maybe they didn’t have names or a solid time frame locked down, but there would be the sense of that person on the edge of their conscious - a blip of light down the path of their future.

Maybe she knew Lance wasn’t ready to answer if she tried to reach out to him. But she knew Red.

She trusted Red, as varied and nuanced as their connection could be, to bring her paladin to her.

Of course it would be in an unconventional manner and never so straight-forward.

Not to be that guy, but the reveal in later seasons that the bond between a lion and their paladin transcends space - literally and figuratively - didn’t surprise me. The importance of that connection and how it’s built up episode by episode just makes it obvious that they would have some kind of homing beacon that wasn’t bound by a particular radius. If Keith could sense a lion that wasn’t his then, that tether between the color coordinating paladins and lions would be immeasurably magnified.

When the team entered that cave and approached the Blue lion, she reacted instantaneously to Lance and invited him in with zero hesitation. That was her paladin. This big moment of ‘Oh, there you are.’

Whether any of the other lions would have called out to Keith, we don’t know. Since the team split up to find the other lions and those timeframes were wholly dedicated to the paladin and lion connection to sync up, we don’t know if the others would have felt the lions too. Once the team all has their lions and they begin the adventure of mindmelding, 100% they could feel the presence of the other lions as they felt each other.

Pidge had the data anomalies, hacking into encrypted files and studying radiowaves. And bringing it all together to hone the information Keith had collected.

Keith felt and heard the disturbance in the force, if you will.

The Blue lion and its paladin aren’t just the guardians of water, they’re the glue that holds the team together. Who else other than Lance could bring so many different people together? 

I wasn’t super into The Great Lion Switch, but all of this still applies to that. When Lance’s role changed, it didn’t mean the Blue lion stopped having a connection with him. It was a mutual acceptance that his place on the team evolved and who else but Red to trust with her paladin? She acknowledged how much he cared about Keith.

This leans heavily on the ‘friendships last more than one lifetime’ - despite times and species, race, and age, this team would have always found its way together and the relationship of trust and respect and care between the Red lion and Blue lion were always there and would always level itself out.

Even if their paladins don’t know it yet.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

**I don’t really talk about Shiro or Hunk but they are also very, very important and I love them dearly.

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Firstborn | i. in sickness and in health

Summary: You make a pact with a demon, in exchange, you give him your firstborn.

Word Count: 2224 words

Page Count: 6.3 pages

A/n: so, my first series! hope you guys like it!

Tags: none :)

[ F I R S T B O R N  M A S T E R L I S T ]

        The song of nature seemed to irritate you with every passing day.

        Every day you heard it.

        The birds chirping to communicate with one another, the winds danced as their limbs created wistful music, an owl coos to its young, the shuffling of trees as their branches snapped gently against one another. Life went on, it was peaceful, it was thriving. The sun was shining through the horizon as it rose from the ashes of the night, blessing those who could walk into its rays with warmth that fueled humanity, something that your sister may never experience again.

        Finishing up your letter, you signed your name in the bottom corner, before folding the paper gently into thirds and placing it over the candle on your desk. The flame licked the paper before latching on, crippling it and its contents physically though the smoke carried them to its destination, your hand settling on the ash of the desk before using it to draw a small symbol.

        With your right pointer finger, you used the ash to create an arrow that pointed up your arm on the back of your left palm, adding three circles on the line and finishing it off with another line from one side to the other. Sitting for a moment, nature still called, your heart was still beating, your breathing was calm and even, and then you slowly stood before making your way to your sisters room. You knocked lightly, your ear against the door to listen to the broken air that escaped her lungs, but there was no response.

        Pushing open the thick wooden door, the room was quiet and settled, [ S/n ]'s breathing was as steady as it could be indicating her sleep. A sigh only escaped your throat, before you moved out of sight, following the long hall of your ancestral home that had shelves and shelves of medicines and other concoctions. 

        Your family believed in the old sciences, and even with all their accumulated knowledge in the Hold under the house, you couldn't find a damn cure. The tissues in her lungs had become mutated, they started to eat themselves while her body attacked it, the cancer was quick and deadly. It had only been three months. Three months and here is your sister, who stood proudly as a budding doctor, now an ill and fading flower whose never to return the next spring.

        Your temper was starting to rise again, your teeth were grinding against one another as you made your way to the porch of the house, wiping your hands on the trousers that were fitted to your form. The large blouse you wore was rather baggy, so you had it hold to your form with a scarf wrapped tightly to your waist down to your hips, your rolled up sleeves allowed your marked arms to be shown.

        "Yoohoo~ [ Y/n ], I'm here to bless you with my presence~" Solomon's voice had cut through your darkening thoughts, the irritated chuckle that you let loose made the magician beam in delight, the knocks on your door starting to rev up in energy.

        "Solomon, please, I need help. Not another migraine." You opened the door, his eyes looking down at you in shock, he had surely grown over the past few months.

        "You look absolutely decrepit." He eyes the bags under your eyes and dulled skin, the slouch of your back made you look even shorter than usual, and your hair that was braided had smaller hairs that stuck out from its ties.

        "Eat shit, little brother." You scoffed, watching as he rolled his eyes and made his way into the old family home, straight to the kitchen to fix himself a strong drink. The long midnight blue cape flowed behind him, the rest of his clothing was like that of any noble- only darker and accented heavily with golden threads, he always made sure to look his best even as a child.

        "Can I stay with you? Please?" The small boy looked up to you, his hand on yours as he stood next to your bed, stormy grey eyes begging for comfort. His hair was a mess, a large crow plush you had sewn was crushed between his arms, and his rounded, innocent eyes were stained pink, tears gleaming on his cheeks.

        "Mmhmm." You mumbled, shifting onto the colder side of the bed, allowing Solomon to enter the warmth and comfort only you could give him. As he settled, you threw the blanket on him, one arm going under his pillow to wrap around and allow your fingers to thread through the snowy locks, the other laying on his waist. He placed his head under your chin, and you felt his small shivers lessen as each moment passed.

        "Can... can you sing?" He asked, whispering as he kept the crow stuffed between you, laying the plushy near the center of your chest, innocent eyes shut peacefully for once in the entire night.

        "I can... hum? I'm a bit- too tired to... sing." Your voice was cutting out, fading into sleep and back to him, starting a small tune once you felt him nod. You continued until you could hear his breathing even out, your humming and the vibrations that came with it lulled the boy to sleep, so once you were sure he was at peace- you allowed yourself to fall into it as well.

        Solomon dropping a glass onto the table brought you back to the present, watching the baby you had always taken care of now curse himself for spilling some alcohol, so much has changed and yet you still saw the little boy who would follow you to bed every night in fear of monsters or even your other siblings coming to torment him.

        "God- fucking- damn it! These big ass cups always slip out of our hands- why, why do we still have these?" He complained, shaking the run off whiskey from his hand, turning to place a cup in front of you as he pulled a chair to face you before sitting down to start downing his drink. He made sure to leave the larger, original, bottle on the table between the two of you.

        And the silence settled in. You honestly didn't know if you were losing your mind, with your tempers threshold lessening each day and your self care plunging into its own despair, you held the same routine of searching for an answer that was the tether to your sanity. The same thing everyday. 

        Every.

        Damn.

        Day.

        What was that saying? Insanity is doing the same actions, expecting different results? That's it, your mind must be gone, it must have died once your sister became bed ridden- your mind decaying since then, and the dust that it had left during the winds chilled dance through the household. While nature sang.

        While it moved on.

        "It's bad. So bad." Your voice broke mid-sentence, ending as a whisper, deciding to stop talking and take a large swing of the burning gold.

        "I can tell. Her aura is... faint. I'm sorry to have left you alone with this. I should have come here sooner. I should have-'' His eyes watered, his grip tightening on the glass cup, deciding that even looking into your eyes would be disrespectful. Everything was rushing towards him now, though he held himself in a better manner than most, when it came to his family- came to you, he always was such a baby.

        "You had things to do. You're building your own life, Solomon. I wasn't going to hold you back from that." You sighed, this wasn't his fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. Well, maybe fate or destiny at this point. You were too tired to care.

        "I should have come to you though. Helped more. You didn't need to go through this alone." He still wasn't looking at you.

        "But I did. And I can't take that back. And neither can you. All we can do is move on." You slowly took his fingers off the glass, before taking them into your palm, rubbing his pale knuckles to sooth him- quite amusing to see the tension almost immediately leave his shoulders. His eyes were on your form now, not your eyes just yet, but you were getting there.

        "What are you thinking, in the big head of yours?" You mused, even if it was a whisper, you tried to lighten the air for him.

        "Well, this is one time I'm glad to pronounce I'm adopted, seeing that if I was related to you- well, I wouldn't have a head. A dome maybe?" His voice fell flat, before turning his head lazily to you, his teasing tone opposing the face he was making. You both chuckled before you felt silence throw her blanket over the both of you again, the air was still lighter than before.

        "You tried everything. Everything." He repeated, gazing at his hand in yours, switching the positions so that he was lightly rubbing the back of your hand. You sighed, nodding your head, and folding your other arm on the table to lay your head on it. Your breathing was even, Solomon's mimicked yours, but your heart was starting up just a bit.

        Solomon was thinking.

        Not the best of things.

        But we were desperate.

        "You tried everything. In this world. In this realm." He turned to look at you in the eye now, his grey eyes that usually held a warm and fuzzy gaze now were icy, you felt the shiver trail up your spine at this.

        "[ Y/n ], I have an idea. Please let me explain it first though." You nodded at him.

        "I- I have made progress in my studies in magic. A lot. And now, now I can contact beings from other realms, things that were never human." He took a deep breath.

        "Things like angels and demons, deities and protectors, and through this... I have made pacts with them. The angels are not allowed to interact with our world directly, something that was in place since many of their own fell from the realm, so we can't ask them for help- unless it's through prayer and at this point I'm sure they aren't going to." He shook his head with a sigh, your head slowly coming up as you straight, listening intently to him.

        "But, there are beings who can help us directly, who aren't inherently evil as the church made them seem. They are demons- that is a fact, but they were once angels, [ Y/n ]. Making a pact with one gives direct results, and usually making a pact is a symbol of trust due to it giving you some hold over the demon, but they can still make one for a price. And, though I know many, there are very few I can trust with you."

        "Are you trying to say... you think I should make a pact?" You questioned.

        "Well, yes, but please be open to it. Demons aren't evil by nature. They just live their lives at their pleasure, they indulge, some are fallen, some are born, some are created. They're like us, humans- just... just different bodies? You'll see what I mean if you agree." 

        "Agree?"

        "Agree to making a pact with one. I won't force this on you. I have made my fair share, but due to my reputation I don't think many would want to help me personally." He awkwardly chuckled.

        "And. I don't want to force anyone to help me as well." He finished.

        Demons? You didn't know what to feel at this point. You felt insightful- Solomon had explained it well enough, and he knew much about the topic, and you were desperate. You couldn't just leave [ S/n ] to just die, in pain, unable to even move on her own, not after everything she's done. Not after she had saved you and the rest. She deserved better. More than what life could give her.

        Did it matter then? It's not like the demon would ask for your soul, from what Solomon said, and you frankly are starting to care less and less if the demon was to ask for it.

        "Let's do it." You said, pulling his hand to you while looking him in the eye, his surprise was evident but the spark in his eye- it was dangerous.

        "I knew you'd always get into magic."

        "Hush. I never said I didn't approve. I just- I don't want to-" You stopped yourself, a harsh intake of air.

        "Lose control." He finished. You nodded again, standing up as Solomon followed quickly.

        "Don't worry, I'm a great teacher, and this is your first pact! It's important. That's why I have the perfect demon, he isn't too aggressive and is rather amusing, not to mention he has the best control of his abilities compared to his brothers." He tried to start up the lighter conversation, as light as it can get, but you appreciated the gesture.

        "Well then, what's his name?" You asked, moving back to your room, Solomon following you quickly.

        "He's the Avatar of Greed, considered a deity nowadays, but he is one of the highest ranking demons so he can pull through in helping [ S/n ]."

        "His name, Solomon. Not his life story."

        "Mammon."

[mockingjayne12]

Anchor: Comes & Goes...

(Jamie x Claire / Outlander Fic)

PART ONE:

The stench of the dilapidated house permeates through the air, grabbing her stomach in its vice grip and twisting until she can feel the bile tickle the back of her throat.  Claire had spent most of the day breathing through the handkerchief, hoping to quell the urge to retch right then and there, but as she lays blankets on the floor near the hearth, her nose is exposed, her stomach threatening to spill more than just its contents to the other occupants of the house.

“Ye alright, Sassenach?” The question startling her out of her thoughts, her husband’s hand coming to rest on the small of her back, where it so often makes its home.  She feels the stress of the day melt away at just his touch.  The horror of the events that unfolded settling somewhere around them, knocking furiously on the forefront of her mind to let them in, but remained locked out with him by her side.

She nods with a close-mouthed smile not quite reaching her eyes.  She can see his concerned stare roving over every inch of her, as if making his own examination, making sure she stood whole before him.  That widens her smile a bit more, crinkling her eyes at the care that he never shies away from.  Concern written across his face, as if settling on a conclusion even she’s not aware of.

“This wasna how I imagined our day goin’,” he gestures with his head towards the makeshift cradle she’d created for the sleeping infant.

“No,” she sighs, sinking to the floor on the heap of blankets.  “No, it wasn’t,” she replies barely above a whisper.  Her body aches atop the wood floor, the blankets doing little to ease her discomfort.  It’s only when she feels Jamie’s arm wrap around her that she stills, exhaling, only then noticing that she’d been holding her breath.  The steady beat of his chest against her back, beating for them both, and she scoots further into him, her body long ago having curved itself to fit into every last crevice of the man who had moulded his strong figure of marble to fit her soft form, warm with its spark.

His hand finds its solace across her stomach, gripping her gently, tracing invisible patterns across the fabric of her clothes, as if following a long since mapped trail to her heart.  The rhythmic swirl and dip of his fingers have her eyes softly fluttering, the light of the flames dance across the house, lighting the baby in its glow, and she can feel the tears prick her eyes at all that she’d lost, the thoughts barreling in, pillaging her happiness.  Images of Jamie holding the small baby in his giant hands, the same ones that gripped her so softly, send a shiver through her, causing him to pull her closer.

It was an image she’d never witnessed with their own children, one that had left a hole in her heart that no amount of time could ever seem to fill.  No blame or resentment even dared place itself on Jamie, but an aching wound of despair, her empty arms curling around his hanging arm, her nails leaving crescents in his skin, and she can feel his brow scrunch behind her.

It’s a certain kind of guilt that encompasses her, the kind that makes her feel ungrateful for the blessings she’s been offered - her daughter, Brianna, her grandson, Jemmy, the man she’d crossed heaven and earth to be with lying by her side.  To grieve for what was lost feels like she’s chancing fate to take from her all that she had been given.

“Cadail gu math, mo ghràidh,” he murmurs into my hair, the words familiar like his touch, uttered most nights, not so much a command, as a wish to scare away the demons that her mind might have conjured up, his words wielding a sword of defense.  But tonight it was as if she’d spent too much time walking beside the sea, the memories coming to her like a wave, the tide high, dragging her out, drenching her in what could’ve been, threatening to sink her in fear, in longing, pulling her under to sleep with only the feel of Jamie’s hand on her stomach tethering her to the here and now.

xxxxx

The dreary overcast day swirls above her, an angry ocean of tears waiting to engulf her in their downpour.  The weight of the infant in her arms, barely there mewls against her, and she feels that tug in her stomach, the one that buries deeply, growing with every second, spreading worry throughout her.  Pulling the baby closer, she bounces on the balls of her feet, her hand gently tapping the same beat as her husband’s this morning against her shoulder.

Swaying with the wind, her stomach lurches, and her eyes shut quickly, not wanting to lose it with a baby in her arms.  She stills, grounding herself in the grey of the morning, to be met with the worried blue of the man standing before her.

“I’m fine,” she starts before he can say a word, and he nods at her, a twitch of his lips letting her know that he wasn’t quite so sure he believed her, but kept his words at bay.  “We should get going,” she says, moving past him to stand by the horses.

“Rushin’ me now, are ye?” He quirks a grin, hoping to get her smiling, the comfort spreading over her as if his arm was still around her, wrapping her in its warm embrace with promises that all would be well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she teases.  “But this one might object,” she motions, a small hand briefly making an appearance from the wrap she held so snugly against her.

“Aye, blame it on the bairn,” his joke falling flat even to his own ears, but his eyes shift down her, briefly, before shooting back up to meet her gaze, looking away, as if weathering his own storm building, a lightning strike of emotion, one she couldn’t quite identify passing through him.

He moves to further adjust the reins of the horses for what feels like the third time.  The extra care for their added cargo not going unnoticed by her, but then she knows that for as reckless as he sometimes is with his own life, he risks nothing when it comes to her, her safety something he’d be willing to give up everything for, and had at one point.

She feels that tug again, the one that yanks her back to the past, even further than she’d traveled, the one that has her continually saying goodbye at Wentworth, at Prestonpans, at Culloden, like she’d told Brianna before they’d left - leaving her father, Jamie, never got easier, not even a piece of her taken, but her whole heart ripped from her chest each time, only returned with the man himself.  She can still feel the desperation clinging to her, the sticky tears sliding down her face, the nausea building, the promise of more resting inside her, with the looming vow of forever about to be shattered.  The fear grips her still, the knowledge of knowing that no good comes when they’re separated, the taste of something so close, the smell of blood, the sound of her screams, hands grabbing at nothing save for sheets drenched in her sweat, strangling the life from her, her only home that of a heartbeat and soft gaelic prayer whispered in the night, to keep her and the child safe.

Faith.

Her fingers pass over the downy soft hair of the baby in her arms, her dark locks in direct contrast to the copper of her baby, but the cup of her head in her hands feeling eerily similar.  

Brianna.

The weight against her chest , that same copper hair staring back at her, a scarlet letter proudly displaying who the rightful father was to anyone who saw her.

Just like our daughters.

“Sassenach.”

She’s broken from her reverie, his hand resting on her hip, thumb anchoring her.  The look passing over his face tells her that she must have said that last part aloud.

Her eyes water, a lone tear giving away her resolve, a quivering lip close to follow, her body betraying her silent struggle to be alright.

Jamie’s hand moves to tangle in her hair, and she finds herself leaning into his touch, gathering strength from the gathering of the same tears that flood his eyes - bringing the stubble of his cheek to scratch his promise with a breath into her ear.

“I willna part from ye this time.”