#no brains all heart all muscle as god intended

[nooskadraws]

himbo strongman oath of glory paladin for a dnd circus campaign 🔥💪

[hxltic]

Choso remembers you saying something about it. In fact, you had asked him incredulously, “Cho, you have never touched yourself?”

And you said it so confused and almost sad, like you were genuinely upset for him. “That’s why you’re so pent up all the time,” you added. “It’s not something you should feel bad about.”

The memory crowded his brain when he returned to his apartment one night, slightly angry and plagued by what he doesn’t yet recognize as overstimulation, just thinking maybe his ponytails are too tight and adding to his headache. His muscles were sore as well, which didn’t help.

So he leisurely showers and lays in bed, trying his best to fall asleep and end his emotional torture, but it’s to no avail. He lays there on his back with his eyes closed. Contemplating. He has a hard time going to bed with the whole curse thing anyway.

Thinking back, you implied that the action was some type of release of frustration or stress. Choso understands that his head is constantly wracking about familial stuff, staying alive, his rent; it never truly stops. But what if it could?

The thought is crude, like it should be forbidden to indulge in himself that way. But you said there was nothing to be ashamed of, and above all else, he trusts you the most.

You. It all started with you. You were always helping him out, being his best friend and patiently teaching him things that nobody else could bring themselves to say. You were there for him and he owes you the world.

In fact, sometimes he would ask questions or pretend to be uninformed just so you could explain random, usually unimportant, stuff. He couldn’t understand why, but your puffy lips as you speak and your pretty eyes glistening— on the verge of full laughter at his confusion— makes the air thick around him. He’s only half human, but it’s like he carries the desire equivalent to a full one. He has barely been able to control himself.

In the darkness of his room, under the covers, Choso doesn’t even notice his hand trailing down his abdomen and over the cloth of his loose pants. It was so natural how he began to lazily dig the heart of his palm through the fabric, gently at first.

You had shown him the different pleasures of the world around him, most of which you liked to do. Mall shopping, for example. He thought it only made sense to carry your bags while you hopped from store to store, and in return, he got some say on what you left the store with. You couldn’t care less about the male opinion on how short your skirt was, but Choso was different. You knew it would be unfeigned.

“How’s this one?”

You step out of the dressing room in a pair of high heels that laced up to your calf and twirl in the skin-tight dress. The color fell on your complexion perfectly, it cinched your waist in just right, and covered just enough of what it needed to. The fabric hugged your thighs and the intended sheerness of the dress left just a faint shadow of the red set you were wearing underneath. But there was no point in waiting for his answer; it was all over his face.

He was speechless. He sat with his mouth slightly agape, holding his gaze to you up and down. You clear your throat, finally drawing his eyes up to yours, and he somewhat comes to his senses.

“Y-you look great.” He mutters.

Of course it’s in your nature to tease him, rolling your eyes jokingly: “Just great? God, Cho, I see how much you hate me now.” But you didn’t expect the immediate response after.

“No, no— more than that. There’s not a word for it.”

Now you were speechless, staring at him with the astonishment he had on his face previously.

Choso’s large hand wasn’t as gentle now, driving deep into himself in search for friction. His breathing slightly picked up from the movements since the room was becoming hotter around him, stifling even, so he throws the covers off his wanting body. With a deep sigh and furrowed brows, he tries to relax back into his pillow, welcoming the small hums and the newfound rush of cool air against his open chest.

Every now and then he’d also think about the time you took him swimming. He already knew how as a survival instinct, but that wasn’t the point. You were showing him around. Popsicles, hot summer days, and glowy laughs.

After the both of you sat on your beach chairs while munching on your matching snowcones, you agreed to get in the water if he did. That’s how you found yourselves at the steps of the pool, Choso trying his damndest to be respectful when you remove your cover up, but he somehow can’t peel his eyes away no matter how hard he tries. You’re too busy thinking if you should revoke your statement while glancing at your reflection. Unfortunately for you though, you hadn’t thought that he would have no reaction at all to the water temperature and step right in without hesitation.

“You are insane,” you declare, your eyes hopefully showing the fear through your shades. Choso chuckles and stands at his full height in the three feet, and instead of trying to figure out if you were staring at his dripping figure, he glides towards you in the water.

He reaches out for you, still stuck with only your feet in the pool.

“Here, give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, you do. He walks backwards into the water.

In an escape from the cold, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, linking your ankles behind his hips. He tries his best to keep his breathing steady as you stay hooked to him. “I’m going to sink in, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah okay,” you breathe.

Everywhere you connected was hot despite the coolness of the water nipping at you, and yet it didn’t make the journey down any easier. His hands hooked under your thighs as comfortably as possible, but the main burn in your heart stemmed from the words. It was truly an endeavor not to think about them out of context because surely he didn’t even notice the accidental innuendo.

Choso held his breath during the slow, controlled descent while you clung onto him. It isn’t until you get to the bottom that the real fight emerges.

“Oh, it’s not that bad!”

And even though he’s squatting, leaving both of you completely surrounded in the pool, when you pull away with a fat smile on your face and the shades pushed up, Choso could barely even think.

His hand finally pushes past the waistband. It wasn’t hard to find his length that was already standing up as far as it was allowed in his pants.

His eyes tighten when he feels the pressure of his own grip, and how relieving it was. Slowly, his hand moves up against the taut skin, only to be hit with a substance he feels blindly at the tip. He kicks his pants off with an easy motion in order to see himself.

He was flushed but too aroused to be embarrassed. Already gathering sweat and heart beating fast, he recognizes he has two options. Stop, or keep going without full knowledge of how to do it. Usually he’d ask you, but he’s smart, and some things he has to figure out on his own. Plus, he’s sure it all comes to the same outcome.

He swipes the substance from the top, and without a second thought, spreads it around so it eases the journey his hand slowly takes up and down his shaft. It proves not to be enough, so he rolls over to the cocoa butter you got him. You said his skin looked lifeless, like it needed some moisture.

When you looked at him that day, you glistened with a happiness he’d never seen before in his arms. Holding onto him even when you no longer needed to. He might as well have been looking at the fucking sun because he would do anything to see you like that again: staring at him like he was the only person in the world, your breasts close to spilling from your bikini top, hair tossing in your face from the wind, and only inches away from where he now recognized he wanted your lips most. His.

He could spot every freckle and dimple in your skin.

But that wasn’t even the best part. Your fingertips rested on his jaw and your palms on his neck, slowly caressing him while you dipped further on top of him underwater. You told him there shouldn’t be anything under his swim shorts. Of course he listened, but now he’s trying to determine if it’s a blessing or a curse. Intentional or not, every time you moved, the touch of your bare skin and the hold he had on where your thighs meet your ass was electrifying and downright addictive. He can still feel it to this day.

Choso’s heart rate was skyrocketing. He lacked some understanding, but he wasn’t stupid. He may not necessarily know what love should feel like, or reciprocated feelings, but he knows what he’s feeling now isn’t to be ignored. If it was, it wouldn’t be so goddamn suffocating.

His free hand brushes the hair over his forehead back at the epiphany. His other one is controlled, sliding up and down his cock continuously. There was so much precum leaking at his sensitivity, making his eyes flutter and his words unstable. At first it was just groans and soft moans falling from his lips. Now, he needs the words for what he’s about to do next.

Somehow he finds his hand hovering atop his bedside table, ripping his phone off the charger and dialing your number.

A few rings later, he hears your faint air conditioning in the background. “Cho?”

Instead of a response, a heavy, elongated sigh sounds on the line. Your voice was so refreshing to hear that it actually startled him. He thought he was ready to talk about whatever his feelings were, or ask about them, but maybe he got intentions of the choice to call you slightly wrong. His thumb slips just under his pink head, flinching his hips and ejecting whimper from his mouth.

He stares into the darkness, not even attempting to hide. “H-hello,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay? It’s pretty late.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Choso swallows, putting the phone beside his ear. He looks down at what he’s doing. Calves straining, cock throbbing, and muscles tensing. Had he always been this reactive? You both rest in silence, his as an occupied one, but a silence nonetheless before he interrupts it.

“I wanted to—” His grip became a little too hard and a low groan slips into the mic. He was trying to communicate without notifying you of what he’s doing, but you had brought it up unprompted that day so he doubts you would mind if it came to that. “—hear your voice.”

“Well, I’m here now. Hey, are you sure you’re completely fine?”

“I-I… fuck,” Choso curses, which is a rarity in all honesty, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He hears you shuffle. He assumes you sat up, intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

It’s like you were put on this earth just for him—to guide him, to trouble him, but it’s all a side of the same coin. And he loves every second of it. Your voice was so fulfilling even with its mocking tone, and maybe it’s just the arousal coursing through him, but he recognizes it as what it is. Flirting. With this fact, the world slows, leaving the intensity of the moment and the growing feeling in his lower half. His speech is impaired by his own breathing.

“Yeah,” he replies. Breathless and hot.

Once again, there’s another moment of silence. A squelch sound bounces off his length as he increases speed, still shimmering with wetness in the dark, and he’s thinking maybe you fell asleep. His balls tighten every now and then and he thanks the universe for the signal because when he touches them, his eyes almost roll to the back of his head.

The sound he releases is mostly air. It was frantic and choppy and loud, as well as completely received on your end.

“Where are your hands?”

He processes your voice, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Huh?”

“Where are your hands, Choso.”

He tips his chin down, glancing at the stickiness between his fingers and his dick standing tall, itching for more. It’s weird, he thinks, but he admires his work and how he doesn’t feel dirty or the least bit uncomfortable with it. He watches the clearish-white seep from the peak when his fingers clamp around his base and squeeze; he hums satisfactorily.

“Busy.”

Incredulously, you parrot, “Busy?” A smile inches onto your face and he only knows because he can hear it in your voice. “Are they stroking anything, by any chance?”

On that note, he begins undulating again, tipping his head back to the pillow. It was burning desire, for multiple things. He didn’t know what, but you’re for sure one of them.

He grins softly but cockily, “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Because I’m so ‘pent up’ all the time?” He turns his head to the phone as if it were you lying beside him.

You both laugh in a daze, the feeling surreal. It then goes quiet.

“I’m feeling a little pent up right now, actually,” you coo.

Choso copies, “Oh yeah?” And he understands what you mean, because his cock tightens and warms. His speed enhances once more, sloshing somewhere in the back of the call and making the “h” sounds of his words lengthy.

“Yeah,” you moan on the other line. It was light; lighter than his. But his are the very reason why.

On top of the pleasant surprise of him taking your advice, he called you to experience it, and his voice is deep with fatigue but serene with arousal. It didn’t take a genius to guess what you were doing in response. “How does it feel Choso?”

“Keep talking and I’ll see.”

That instant he twitches again, his hips now thrusting up into his fist for some type of release. It was growing with every word you spoke. He bites his lip and keeps his eyes closed to relish in the moment because it is ten times more exhilarating in someone else’s presence. Yours.

“Are you close?” You question. Your breath was more contained than his, but he could hear the movement of the covers.

Another grunt, “Yes.” In fact, he was so close, there isn’t anything else that he’d want. It practically overtook him.

He could barely hear you, or understand you, rather. And if he did, it took him repeating your words over again.

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

It was snappy but his voice gave it away. “I called, didn’t I?”

“I bet you’re imagining it’s my hand, right? Or when you come it’s my face you’re spilling on?”

He curses under his breath, jolting his hips up and gripping his cock harder. Rougher. No, he actually wasn’t imagining that, but now that you brought it to life, there’s no going back.

What you said after was unfortunately heard loud and clear.

“Slow down for me.”

And it should have been embarrassing how instantly he took his hand away, because if he didn’t, cum would be painted on his chest by now. He groans strongly and hisses as if in pain at your denial, breaths thick and weighty. “H-Holy shit.”

Choso never got angry at really anything, but here he was, brows low in irritation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice over the calming way he spoke either, but that doesn’t matter now. Had he gone slow he still would have came.

He speaks as confidently as you do laying on his back, dry hand flipped onto his forehead while his breathing regulates. “Why won’t you let me come?”

You had your own reasons, one of which being you took it as the perfect opportunity to pleasure yourself. “Because I said so.”

Choso opens his eyes to his cock as possibly erect as it could get, bobbing with every time he moved. It was an angry red instead of its usual pink now. “I’m so close,” he placates himself a bit, “…just…let me.”

You don’t respond, just release small whimpers of your own— but he knows you’re still listening. He sighs deeply, “…Please.”

It was so breathless it might as well have been a moan in its own. “What’d you say?”

“What?”

“I didn’t hear you.” You heard him.

“…Please let me come.”

He was shaking, his hand already wandering closer to his dick in pure anticipation you would say yes. Thank God you did after a few quiet seconds that were anything but tranquil— he actually thought that he was about to pop.

It’s swift when he cups his hand and runs from the base to the tip, squeezes there, and uses a few of the fingers to drag over the wet skin of his balls. The sounds he made previously come back tenfold.

His hips jerk and his abdomen follows. His back lifts from the bed, causing him to rise onto an elbow as he strokes himself through his climax. His engorged cock throbs in his hand and he shudders. He shuts his eyes just as milky white cum flies out in spurts around his waist and stomach.

Meanwhile, your own peak was near, and when Choso huffs through his, yours hits like a train. His vision was black and spotty, but he could hear you cry his name somewhere in the distance. This only made it worse. You carry him even farther into his orgasm since he thinks about what they’ll sound like in person. His name rolls off your tongue so beautifully already; when you’re under him, it’ll put him on his deathbed.

He blinks his eyes open to the mess that he can’t bring himself to care about in the moment. He flops backward onto his bed sheets while trying to keep his lungs in order.

It seems to be that for you as well because a few much needed-minutes pass.

“Cho?”

He hums back leisurely.

You ask, soft and sweet. “Can I come over?”

“See you in ten,” he sits up.

©️hxltic

[maeblack]

„God, I love the way my name sounds, if you moan it like this, cara mia“

Paring: Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: smut and a bit dominant Theo

also, English is not my first language and I’m doing my best, so please be patient with me and be warned :)

Word count: 2508

Summary: sometimes jealousy leads to hot shower sex and affirmations

„Theo?!“ my voice echoed from the walls like my steps. Which became even quicker as I neared myself to the boys change room. Where the hell was he? Without a knocking I swung the door open. A few curses were heard and every pair of eyes laid on me, as I passed the few still changing boys.

„Y/n, what gives us the honor to welcome you in our secret place of hottness?“ Draco purred as he leans against the wall near his locker. The black towel around his waist hung dangerously loosely. Which exposed his well trained body and didn’t left many space for imagination what’s underneath. As i didn’t respond, he spoke up again „you like what you see?“ he teased. „Unfortunately yes, but i‘m not here for you, Malfoy“ I explained sweetly.

While I snaked past him, I mocked: „sorry, I think you need to wait for the next pretty girl, who crosses your way, if you’re half naked, to suck the life out of your dick“. A few chuckles filled the moist air. „This beautiful case happens not as rare as you might think lovely y/n“ he responded as he turned around to face me. I had stopped in front of Theo’s open locker. „Sure Malfoy“ I muttered absent, as I scanned the things in front of me. The quidditch uniform hung on the open locker door. That meant he‘s not in the hospital wing. Good. So he doesn’t have to go there twice on a day when I’m done with him.

But his favorite black sweater also still hung in the locker. So he weren’t already back in his dorm. Or hers. Which was the actual reason I was here. „Where is he?“ i questioned snippy. „I don’t know who you talking about, if you have such an attitude“ Draco shrugged. I inhaled sharp. „my dearest friend Draco, it would be very nice, if you tell me where I can find Theodore“ I declared with a fake smile in my face, my voice still snippy. „Hm I don’t know, if I would be a good friend to him, if I tell you where he is, when you are that mad at him“ Draco explained while he pulled his shirt over his head. „I just want to know, if this whore is with him“ I revealed trough clenched teeth. Silence. „He‘s still in the shower“ he informed me grinning „I don’t know if he’s alone“. „Oh“ I said. My voice sounded more uncertain as intended. Draco chuckled. „Naw if you‘re scared to go in, you can still accept my offer“ he teased, while he fiddled on the towel around his waist. „No thanks“ I admitted quick „I’m already a big girl and I can handle my jealousy alone“. With this I turned on my heal and went straight into the shower room.

The moment I stepped in, the humidity increased immeasurably. The room was filled in steam fog, which enveloped Theo’s tall figure. He stood with his back to me under one of the showers in the back of the elongated room. He was alone. An indescribable burden fell from my heart. The stream of water washed around his body as I came closer. With one hand on the wall, he supported himself, while his dark brown curls hung into his closed eyes. My anger was floated away as my eyes scanned ever millimeter of his gorgeous body. No hickeys. Just his cute freckles all along his neck down to his shoulders. The butterflies in my belly did some flips as they went crazy. The muscles on his back twitching, as he lifted his head and stretched it towards the heated water. The space in between my tights already as wet as the air around us. „Do you want to keep staring at me or will you join me?“ Theo’s husky voice reached my brain. I nervously cleared my throat. He chuckled raspy, which send shivers down my spine. He would be the death of me, I already knew it. Why did I thought I would be able to yell at him while he‘s IN SHOWER? Only the thought about his body made me numb. And now I was more than able to see everything. God

A few moments must have passed since my voice was lastly heard, because now I was the one with a raspy whispering voice. „I was searching for you“. It sounded sweet. Merlin. I was pissed until I took the step inside the shower room. Since when did Theodore Nott made me that weak?

„Aha“ he made slowly, bringing me back to reality. „Then congratulations… you found me“ he purred while he let his head fell back. My body heated up even more. How could someone look that good? It was a curse and blessing together to have this beautiful sight of him. „Then what do you want from me, if it’s not joining me?“ he asked again. For a moment I was confused myself. „If you just wanted to know where I am, you could have asked somebody? You didn’t have to follow me into the shower…“ he added. „Oh yeah?“ I snipped. My voice had its force back. „Maybe your new fangirl could have told me where you are! But oh wait, I forgot, she left together with you“. With every word I talked myself back in anger again. For a few seconds the water streaming on the floor was the only thing heard. He chuckled quietly as he shook his head slightly.

Only as he turned around to face me, I noticed how close I stood. The water from his hair dropped on my face as I glanced up at him. My eyes still sparkled aggressively. But as I got lost in his deep brown hazel eyes, I felt my knees go weak again. My breath went hard. The anger still slightly cocking in my veins. But I got more and more distracted as my gaze followed the tiny watersprinkles which made their way down his face. It looked so magical.

„Is there someone jealous?“ he questioned after his eyes had searched along my whole face. His voice unfathomable, which made my heart twitch. I wasn’t sure what to say. Could I admit that I am jealous? Am I allowed to be jealous? Actually not. We weren’t together. He wasn’t mine. And I wasn’t his. God why am I even here then?

In the shower. While he‘s completely naked. And I’m fully dressed.

The second I thought about it, was the first moment I could feel the hot water streaming down at me, even though I stood like this for minutes. After this determination my eyes flew automatically down my soaked wet cloths. And with this, down his body too. His incredibly defined abs peaked out his upper body. I fought against the instinct to slid my fingertips along them. His cock already standing hard. Which made me bite my lower lip while I felt my mid already clenching.

„Y/n“ His voice brought my attention back to his lips. „Why are you here?“ he asked urgently. My voice trembled as I started to mouth an answer „I just had to make sure if you’re here. With her.“ „and then?“ he questioned darkly. I shivered. „What do you thought we would do here together?“ he continued his asking. „I -“ I started searching for the right words. „Go on little y/n“ he purred „tell me your naughty thoughts“. I swallowed hard against my dry throat. Why did he had such an effect on me? Even if it would be possible not to think about his hard cock. Which now slightly tipped against my mid as he came closer to tug my hair behind my ear. I melted under his touch and my whole body burned.

„Tell me what you thought we were doing in here“ he demanded.

I gathered all my courage as I spoke up. „After I saw how she undressed you with her looks on the pitch, I thought I would find her on her knees for you. Sucking your dick like you deserve after the good match“ I explained as I lifted my chin towards him. „Aha“ he hummed, his voice melodically. A grin drawn on his lips. „You think I deserve a naughty little whore who sucks my dick?“ he questioned. I nodded. „And why in this case you wanted to stop her?“ Theo asked taunting. „Because it’s my job“ I said, not knowing where his sudden confident came from. „Aha“ he repeated his answer from before. This time his grin grew even bigger.

„Then I won’t hold you back any longer… do what you’re here for“ Theo crooned. His left hand, which loosely hung in my hair after he tugged it behind, grabbed deeper in my strains and pushed me slightly down on my knees. My mouth milliliters away from his dick. I looked up through my lashes and locked eyes with him as I straddled his cock with my fingers. I admired the changing expression in his face as I licked his tip. He breathed in sharp as I took his hard cock in my mouth. His soft skin unter my tongue made me melt. And as his groans filled the air, my mid was dripping for him.

„Oh Merlin - y/n“ he groaned trough clenched teeth as I took him all in „you do your job fucking good“. As his muscle twitched he withdrew from my mouth and pulled me back to my stand. His hand still grabbed with full force in my hair as he brought me in front of his lips. Every inch of my body ached for him. „And now, amore mio? What happens next in your dirty little mind?“ Theo’s voice dagging deep into my brain. „I want to feel you“ I admit while locking eyes with him. His intense stare made my body melt in pure pleasure. And as his lips formed into a grin, I knew my deepest desire would come true. Slowly he closed the last gab between us and placed his soft lips demandingly on mine. Our lips moved so sync I thought I‘ve already kissed him a hundred times. His other hand found it’s place on my waist to pull me even closer, so every part of my body could feel his. And how I could feel his body. His cock pressed hard agains my belly while he pressed me against him and my back on the cold wall behind us. I wanted to melt together with him and stay like this forever.

But my aching mid reminded me of what I really needed. „Theo“ I managed to say under my heavy breathing „I want you inside of me“. His eyes sparkled furiously as he took a step back. „If you take off your cloths for me, I will do anything for you to make you feel as good as you made me feel, while my dick fucked your beautiful mouth“ he said and his voice sounded like honey. In trance I took of my all wet sweater. It fell to the ground with a muffled noice. Then I opened the zip of my skirt, which made it slid down my legs slowly. Never breaking eye contact with his beautiful hazel eyes. Patient he waited as I unclipsed my bra until I freed my breasts. Suddenly he was right in front of me. His lips on my neck, searching for my sweet spots, making me gasp. His hands all around me. His fingertips softly caressed my burning skin. And his tip pressing against my soaked panties. „So wet for me already, cara mia?“ he said sweetly „and I have barely touched you yet“. „Mhm“ I mumbled. I was about to melt in his hands. Only the nickname he called me made me weak.

And then there were his soft lips sucking on my neck, leaving marks, everyone could see the next day. But I don’t care. I wanted to be his. And I wanted everyone to see. Slowly he kissed himself down to my breasts. The moment he took my nipple in his mouth to play with his tongue, I know, I must be in heaven. I moaned out his name. His hands rooming my body and sliding down my panties. „Theo, please“ I pleaded. As he didn’t responded nor did anything else than before, the aching pain in my mid grew bigger. I whimpered again until he let go of my breast and looked deep in my eyes, while he came closer. Right in front of my lips he stopped and whispered: „I like it when you plead for my dick“. Then he closed the gap between us again and kissed me. This time his tongue become even more forceful than before and I could only bare imagine, how it would feel to have his tongue playing with my pearl. The moment I tought about it, I felt his thumb where I needed him the most. I gasped as he quickly rubbed against it. My whimpers became moans at the sudden intense feeling. And as the feeling in my stomach grew bigger and bigger I started to moan out his name again. Whereupon he locked eyes with me. „God, I love the way my name sounds, if you moan it like this, cara mia“ he whispered. Only his words were enough to push me over the edge.

But he didn’t give me time to ride out my orgasm. Instead he pressed his tip on my pulsating clit and cared it along my entrance before he spoke again: „and because you moaned my name so beautifully, I want to know how it sounds, if I give you a reason to scream it“. With this he pushed his tip deep inside of me. With one hand on the wall and the other around my throat, he supported himself as he drove deeper with every thrust, while he fucked me against the wall. And as he said, with the feeling of his hard dick pumping into me, he made me scream his name over and over again. As he pleased spots I never new even existed, he made me reach one high after the other.

One of my hands searching for support in his dark curls, while my finders played with his strains. The other one laid on his shoulder, digging my nails in his soft skin. As his trusts became harder, he broke the connection to my neck, where he drew a masterpiece of his affection. „Since I heard you scream my name, amore mio, I don’t want to hear anyone else say it like that ever again“ he confessed breathlessly between his trusts. The nickname and the affirmation pushed me over the edge again. I whimpered and clenched around him, which dragged him with me into his orgasm. „I‘ll moan it for you anytime… I‘m all yours Theodore“ I whispered trembling in his ear, which made him groan as he nestled his face between my neck and my hair.

[argisthebulwark]

TES Summer Fest Day One: Breath/Forbidden

summary: Despite a relationship with Miraak being forbidden by the Greybeards, the Last Dragonborn cannot seem to keep away from him. f!reader/Miraak, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. warnings: explicit sexual content - minors should not read or engage with this post. consensual choking, light hurt/comfort, a dash of rejection sensitivity if u squint. @tes-summer-fest TES Summerfest Masterlist

"We can't keep doing this."

Miraak's words are panted into the sweaty skin of your neck, punctuated by a strangled whimper as your hips buck against his. Hungry hands betray his words when they claw at your back in complete desperation for more contact.

"Quiet down - you'll get us caught." You grumble and leave a biting kiss to the delicious muscle of his chest. He's plucking your robes from your form so easily, a movement he's perfected over the dozens of visits. Each time you slip through the monastery's hefty stone doors you vow that this will be the last time, yet your resolve crumbles the moment his lips are on you.

"You're the one begging me to fuck you." Miraak's taunt sends that familiar tangle of annoyance and arousal pounding through your body, egged on by his hips grinding into yours. "'Hurry, Miraak - want you so bad.' Always in such a rush." He tsks, though the first thrust of his cock steals whatever barb you'd intended to throw his way. "Gods, I've missed you."

Each movement is rushed - there is no time for softness. Miraak's hips snap into yours and drive his cock deeper into your cunt, every sense overwhelmed by him. His whispered encouragements drown out the peaceful shiver of wind through old trees and your nose fills with his scent - old books and fancy ink. He balances you there, back pressed to the chilly stone of High Hrothgar's intimidating staircase and front melting completely into his body. Snow crunches under his boots but the chill cannot reach you, not when your breath is mingling and sweaty skin sticks together.

His name escapes your lips, a broken whisper and plead for more he instantly understands. Each frenzied thrust of his hips adds to the delicious arousal pooling deep in your gut but it isn't enough - your brain is too fried to summon the words but of course he just knows. Calloused fingers dance up your chest and along your clavicle, leaving a trail of goosebumps everywhere he traces before they close around your throat. It's just enough to make your eyes roll back, spine shivering as white hot need steals through your mind.

"Yes," you keen, head tilting back in a silent demand for more. Never in your life have you felt like this; your Thu'um a constant reminder that you are unlike everyone else in your life until you met him. The same power resonates behind each word he speaks, only he can make you feel somewhat normal. Miraak's fingers add just enough pressure to make you a tad lightheaded, each breath coming out as raspy praise.

"You look so lovely like this, my dragon." He murmurs with surprising tenderness. From under lidded eyes you catch sight of his expression; cheeks flushed and pupils blow wide, his pretty lips parted and dark eyes shimmering with unabashed adoration. Only in these moments is he so unguarded to let you see that he wants you as badly as you want him. For a few minutes when he drives you dangerously close to orgasming you want to throw it all away - the Greybeards, the prophecy, Skyrim and it's impossible civil war that's been dropped at your feet - none of it means anything compared to the way Miraak gazes at you.

"Cum for me, my heart." Miraak's low voice rumbles through your chest and it's all you need. Your exhausted mind shuts down when his fingers squeeze just a tad more, cock buried deep in you against that perfect spot that leaves you seeing stars when you come undone for him. His lips find yours and he's swallowing the needy, wanton sounds that will surely give away your location but you can't be bothered to care. All you can think about is the toes curling in your boots and each muscle in your tired body contacting just from his touch, that knot of arousal finally exploding as he finds his release.

On unsteady feet you balance between your sworn enemy and the old temple you've accepted as your home. Your hazy mind is puzzled by his presence - usually in this moment he is drawing his robes closed once more and making a hasty exit. Yet he remains, arms lowering to cradle you closer and surprisingly tender kisses placed along your jaw.

"You alright?" You clear your throat, though cannot refuse the allure of wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Compared to your almost seamlessly timed orgasms only moments ago the way his nose nuzzles into your throat feels dangerously intimate.

"My dragon." He murmurs the pet name, hot breath fanning across the sensitive skin of your shoulder. "I cannot keep doing this."

Tears prick at your eyes as a flood of rejection sweeps away the usual contentment of his presence. Suddenly feeling too cold you begin to withdraw from him, struggling to speak around that fucking knot in your throat.

"Oh." You clear your throat again, trying to right yourself despite the mess of your robes. You can feel the marks of his teeth over your skin, spotting the tracks of your nails down his chest in the watery moonlight but they suddenly seem to be mocking you.

"Can you?" There's a hidden question under his words that you cannot discern. Despite the way he kneels, dark eyes pleading with you to understand you can't meet his gaze. You feel too vulnerable, too open.

"No, I suppose not." You gulp, shaky fingers trying to retie your robes. A flare of anger flashes through what feels terribly like grief when you swat away Miraak's attempts to aid you - you do not need his help moments after stomaching his rejection.

"How do we move on from here?" His thumb traces down your cheek, warm palm cupping your face in another silent plead for eye contact.

"If you no longer wish to continue this, you have no reason to visit here." Your tone is clipped, severe. It sounds harsh in your own ears when you struggle with the sash at your waist but it's all you can do to keep from crying in front of him.

"My dragon - what in the world do you mean?"

"You can't keep doing this." You sniffle back your tears, finally glaring up at him. There's still color in his cheeks though those eyes seem shocked. "Then why are you still here?"

"I cannot keep seeing you only in the middle of the night." Miraak crowds close to you again, that velvety smooth voice making your heart race. Blessedly ungloved hands cup your face and his nose brushing against yours feels almost like love. "I cannot withstand these lonely days of pretending that I do not care for you."

"You care for me?" It seems so childish to ask of the man minutes after he was inside of you but your conversation has never been this candid. Taunts and flirty banter have been your only means of communication, this depth is new.

"I crave more of you." He murmurs against your lips. "All of you."

"It is forbidden."

"Yet, despite all the rules - my feelings for you persist."

[uyuartik]

inspired by the song | ao3

You wanna guess the color of my underwear

You wanna know what I got goin' on down there

God, you can’t fathom the set of events that led to this moment: the stupid patrol missions, the meaningless match of you and Joel, the most irrelevant pair there could ever be (well, irrelevant except your little, tiny, barely consequential crush on him), his grumpy ass sitting in the corner annoyed yet lenient (a true grace as you touched his nerve with all that attempts to deepen the conversation or your high pitched “Five more minutes!” and “Please!”s in the morning, alas surprise, he was more so annoyed with himself for how much he let you get away with it )as you sifted through every nook and cranny, finding little stuff of use and the cards. It was meant to be a drinking game, posing all sorts of questions, and probably intended for people younger than you. Well, maybe not you, but definitely Joel.

But, this moment-

Your giggles and comments on the cards that were met with his groans and quips were cut sharp when the prompt on them caught you off guard, and the room was immediately silent. Even the shuffle of his bag while he rummaged through it was practically non-existent, thus your first reaction, an embarrassing squeal, had made him turn to you. Fuck, you felt so small and alive to the core when Joel raised his eyebrow, quietly asking you what made you stop, and also challenging you to keep going, even though he could already imagine the reason.

“Uhm, nothing, we can skip this one.”

“No, I want to hear it.” This was probably his wicked way to get payback for all the nuisance you’ve caused him, yet there was no grin behind his words, only the gruff you desperately adored. It was enhanced due to tiredness, no surprise there, and it was visible even from the outside, his huge shoulders slightly sagging, hair mussed up, muscles left bare for your viewing pleasure as he settled into the cabin you two would spend the night.

You pressed your thighs together first, the words “guess the color of my underwear” and Joel himself occupying your mind at the same time already doing things to you. Realizing each second that the silence lasted was making this more awkward, you cleared your throat. “It- it says guess the color of my underwear.” 

Then, his eyes became fixated on you, up and down and up again, burning into you, and you cowered, blinking. That was the moment realized that he had thrown his bag aside, standing in the middle of the room, his attention solely on you now. there was an element to his aura that you hadn’t seen before, some sort of pressure and resistance, a flame engulfing his skin.

“I don’t have to. I already know.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to say “Then say it.”, your shaky breath already betraying your bravado.

His heavy boots thudded, echoing as he walked towards you, pounding in your ears while your heart was pounding in your chest so much so that it probably was visible from the outside, but it even got worse as he held your chin, redirecting your face to establish eye contact, a deeper one this time that you couldn’t run from. You couldn’t help but keen into his touch, straightening your back and feeling the muscles of your lower body twitch.

“Black. Lacy on the sides. With the little bows.”

Shit.

Yes, naturally, the patrol partners saw each other in every possible scenario in the couple of days the mission lasted, so there was nothing out of the ordinary that he saw you in your underwear while you were getting ready for bed- but that details, meant he looked, not just saw. Joel looked at you. 

And that was a fact your brain had trouble processing.

“How-” The basic question was all you could utter, and even that was interrupted, shutting you up for good. Even while confessing, he was the one in control, finally having the courage to speak his mind, set free by your obvious intrigue. The faintest of wavering in his voice only added to his strength, his true self, his true feelings.

“But my favourite is the pink one. Thin enough to fly in the slightest of breeze. Hiding basically nothing. Especially that secret tattoo you have.”

In a few seconds, the information “of course, neighbors may occasionally see each other’s laundry hanging in their garden” was shadowed with “Joel sees me through my bedroom window- fresh out of the shower or after hot summer nights and possibly more.” Subsequently, you wondered, what else did he do? Did he hold out his breath as he discovered his chance? Did he try to abstain, only to fail after a week? Did he replay the scenes in his mind as he talked to you during the day? Did he touch himself, imagining it was your hand- and hoped more?

His thumb caressed your lip, the thick callouses dragging across the sensitive skin, and you took that as a yes to your unasked questions. In return, you peeked out your tongue to lick it, pulling him in as he released a content hum. In search of being closer, you rose to your knees, holding onto his wrist, and his other hand slithered across your thigh, dancing around the hemline of the t-shirt you called a pajama.

“So, you want to prove me right?”

a/n: hope you liked it! it was too good of an inspiration to pass, and i thought a drabble would compliment the vibe of it. don't forget to leave likes and reblogs, it means the world to me! thank you all for being here!

[joels6string]

hello, darling.

okay, important thought incoming that I'm hoping you're ready to elaborate on.

let's imagine Joel has the most dreadful day. he just needs to get lost in his lady...presumably for hours. what would that look like for him? how can his lady help his brain shut off?

of course this is intended to be filthy...'cause duh.

I would love to elaborate on this. I even sat at my desk for this. Let's even go AU into a non-Cordyceps-infected world. He's still my favorite old man though.

NSFW 18+ blowjob, thigh riding, face riding, sub!Joel, creampie

Outbid again. Despite the reputation for quality work Joel and Tommy had within Austin and the surrounding community, it all came down to money. And other people could do the job for cheaper.

He was stewing in his office, his head in his hands, the books laid in front of him while the accounts were pulled up on the old desktop he should have replaced years ago. He'd skipped dinner, mumbling something about not being hungry before holing up in the room beside the dining area, but after two hours you knew it was time to drag him out.

As your arms circled his neck, his head leaned into you, finding a home beneath your chin as your fingers dove beneath the collar of his shirt. The familiar smell of sawdust and leather mixed with his cheap shampoo that lingered in his long, gray hair had your eyes closing in contentedness, his skin warm and his heart thudding rhythmically in his chest.

"Come upstairs," you cooed, pressing your lips to the crown of his head as an added incentive, a heavy sigh following.

"I gotta move money around," he argued, "Mortgage is comin' due, Sarah's semester...we need food."

"And it'll be waiting for you in the morning."

"I can't-"

But he would. You pulled yourself away quick enough to where he wouldn't catch you, spinning his chair around and sinking to your knees, your hands grateful he'd switched into sweatpants as you shucked them down just enough to release his cock.

"Christ," he whined as you pulled the spongy head of it between your lips, his head falling back against the headrest as he stiffened against your tongue.

While your throat opened and your nose buried in the thick thatch of curls at the root of him, your fingers worked on his buttons, undoing as many as you could reach before you explored the soft stretch of his stomach. His focus on work and finances was replaced by the way your neck was bulging around his girth and the drool bubbling at the corners of your mouth, his long digits threading into your hair as you bobbed, glucking loudly for him to enjoy.

"God damn," he praised as you held him completely sheathed, gagging slightly but fighting through it as he whined, hips pulsing as his balls began to twitch with the need for release.

But it wasn't time for that, not yet. He needed to forget.

Gasping for air, you released him, his grip in your locks immediately pulling your mouth to his, your spit-soaked mouth gliding with his as he tasted the pre-cum on your tongue. The buttons you couldn't reach before were quickly undone, the hair on his chest soft as you raked your fingernails through it, your core grinding down on his thigh as you straddled him in the small office chair.

This always worked him up, using him for your own gratification, and as you ground down against the thick muscle between your legs, he watched on with awe. With his mouth agape heaving with shallow breaths, his fingertips dug into the plush skin around your hips, pushing you down and pulling you faster than you could move on your own, you were shaking within minutes, your panties damp as you collapsed against his chest in an attempt to catch your breath. There was a small window of time you had to regulate, control over the situation not something you were willing to relinquish.

The loss of your weight had him groaning as you pulled him up, dragging him up the stairs and to the bed where a simple push on his chest had him lying flat. You stripped slowly for him, his fist working over his throbbing shaft as he watched through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Listen to me," you instructed as you threw your leg over him, your soaked slit pressing down onto his flush cock and mimicking the motions you'd abused his thigh with just moments ago, "Focus here. Nowhere else."

"Yes ma'am," he whimpered as you began to crawl up his body, settling your slit over his face and lowering down onto his waiting tongue.

His mouth worked just as efficiently as yours had for him, his lips suckling at your clit alternating with his tongue prodding into your dripping entrance. He was loud, groaning and growling every time the taste of you heightened, his face soaked as you mewled pathetically above him, your hands pressed into the wall in an effort to keep yourself upright.

When he flattened his tongue for you to find your own pleasure with, your entire body shook as you moved over him, his reminder to you that he'd gladly suffocate here making you laugh to yourself as he pulled you down onto his face even more. He hooked and flicked the tip at just the right moment, his lips pursing and applying pressure efficiently enough to have you screaming again, your inner thighs drenched in spit and your arousal as you slid back down, notching him at your entrance.

Your body welcomed him easily, your movements lazy as you marveled at his dazed expression. This was right where you liked him, unable to form a coherent thought, drowning in you and the ways you could make him feel. His eyes were pinched shut as the pressure in his stomach built, he was too keyed up to last long but he was giving it his best efforts. With your nails digging into his pecs hard enough to leave indents as you slammed down over and over, he couldn't help the moans he usually kept from spilling free.

"Not yet," you begged, feeling your third ascent into the clouds building, "Not yet, baby."

"Okay," he gasped, teeth sinking into his lower lip, his sputtering cries the most divine indication of his loss of control as a tear born of frustration and concentration alike dripped from the outer corner of his right eye, "For fucks sake...please."

The begging was what you were after, and he continued pathetically until your cunt strangled him, your body falling onto his chest as his arms wrapped you up, his release finally spilling deep inside of you, hot and heavy. You stayed pressed to his sweat-soaked skin, his chest erratically rising and falling as his lips pressed to your forehead in thanks.

"No more fucking numbers," you scolded as your heart rate began to slow, his gravelly chuckle vibrating through you.

"It can wait," he agreed, "Bath or shower?"

[tangledinink]

In lieu of a new chapter-- I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? one-shot! In which Leo cannot sleep, and events occur as a result. NOW UP ON ao3!!! Or, read below the cut!!!

It was another one of those.

Those little loops he got into sometimes.

Insomnia was kind of like that, funnily enough. Really hot-and-cold, waxing and waning, on and off, or at least it was for him. So sometimes, it really wasn’t so bad. He’d sleep relatively well for weeks at a time. Granted, it was never as simple as just laying his head on the pillow and falling asleep (could you imagine?), but with a little bit of work, he could eventually manage to get himself off to dreamland and get a good six or seven hours. And that was awesome, by Leo’s standards! It was great when it was like that!

But that was when it was good.

Sometimes, it was harder than that. Sometimes, it took herculean efforts to get himself to sleep each night. Sometimes, he’d be lucky if he got three or four hours, no matter what he did, with the occasional all-nighter sprinkled in here or there, just for the fun of it. And that was less than ideal for, like, a lot of reasons, obviously, but at least it was tolerable. That was kind of the usual for him, quite frankly, and he knew how to operate under such circumstances by now.

So, you know. Sometimes it was good. And sometimes, it was hard, but overall okay.

The real problem came when things… got away from him.

He knew how to weather a no-sleep kinda night. He was comfortable with taking the occasional L and just grinning and bearing it for the day. That was fine, it happened, not a huge deal. He could handle all that.

Two all-nighters in a row? Okay. Now we’re starting to run into a problem, but still not anything insurmountable. Things will probably suck for the day, but he’s capable of muscling his way through and remaining (mostly) functional. That’s what they made Red Bull for, obviously.

It’s on the third night, usually at around one in the morning, that he always starts to think that maybe he might be in real trouble. And that was really his downfall. The thinking. 

Despite his best efforts, he’d always climb into bed on the third night, intending on getting, like, some bomb-ass sleep, finally, because surely his body is ready for it after two nights in a row, right? But then always, without fail, that stupid little voice in his head would eventually go,

Oh my god, is this the start of a Loop?

And he’d go, NOOOO, why did you say that!? Why would you jinx us like that!? Now the insomnia heard you!!!

And that would be that. A self-fulfilling prophecy. His stupid, dumbass brain would go, oh no, what if we get stuck in a Loop? and then his anxiety would kick in, grabbing onto the thoughts and sinking its teeth in and going, oh no, oh god, please, we’ve gotta sleep, this is night three, we can’t keep going like this! and his heart rate would pick up, and all his nerves would flash on stark and bright, and all the cogs would start spinning in his annoying, useless brain, everything switching on and going into overdrive… 

Which, of course, would simply ensure that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

And then, all of a sudden, he’d be in a Loop.

That was when things were truly bad. When he was ‘Looping,’ so to speak, trapped in these dumb little circles, endlessly worrying and stressing about his inability to get to sleep and keeping himself awake. And the longer he went without sleep, the more panicked he’d get, and the less ability he’d have to keep himself in check and apply, you know, actual reason or logic to anything. And then he’d start getting desperate. He’d just do more and more stupid things to try to get himself to sleep, and he’d freak his family out and scare them, and then feel awful about it later. 

He wasn’t allowed to hang onto his own trazodone prescription anymore because he had once, in a state of overtired delirium and panic, accidentally taken too much. 

He had been fine, really, it wasn’t like he took that much-- he mostly just gave himself a killer headache. But he sure had freaked Dad out. And maybe also himself.

He hated worrying them. And he knew they all already worried about how much he slept as, like, a baseline, let alone when things were bad, even if bad only came around every few months or so. Especially because it wasn’t like he wasn’t trying. He really was! He tried so frickin’ hard. His dad had dragged him to, like, a dozen different sleep doctors and specialists or whatever (that brave soul, he always shook like a leaf every time, which Leo also hated,) and they’d tried twice as many different medications and tricks and home treatments or whatever, but nothing actually, truly fixed the problem. Not forever, anyway.

The point was, it sucked.

He didn’t like it. 

It was stressful, and it was unpleasant.

And, quite frankly? It was scary.

And the longer he was awake, the scarier it would be, because the longer he was awake the less he could trust himself. When he was like this, even the simplest of tasks would suddenly become so freaking hard.

Leo was not a chef by any means, but he was competent enough that he could at least do simple things like make a sandwich or cut up an apple for himself. But he only had to nick himself with a knife once, clumsy with sleepiness, for his Loop Self to suddenly be terrified of the kitchen.

Likewise, Leo though typically perfectly capable of navigating the streets of the city, but only had to get a bit turned around and confused on a single occasion for his Loop Self to be petrified of leaving the house alone-- even if he had found his way in a matter of minutes that first time.

It only took him sending one stupid sleep-drunk text to the wrong person by mistake for his Loop Self to become too frightened to text people for fear of somehow sending something awful to the wrong person and promptly destroying his social life.

It didn’t matter how unlikely or niche the fear was. Every time he got like this, his Loop Self would find more ways to be anxious and more things to be terrified of. And the longer he was awake, the more paranoid he would get.

This was his fourth night. 

This wasn’t the longest Leo had ever stayed up, but that was of little comfort to him at the moment. During the day, it really wasn’t that bad. Like, yeah, Loop Leo would always be there, kind of whispering in his ears, but it was a lot easier to ignore them in the light of day. He could still be a person during the day, at least, mostly, even if he was afraid the entire time. But at night? Once it was dark out and the rest of his family had gone to bed?

That was when Loop Leo truly came out to play.

And looping he most certainly was doing, pacing anxiously through his room and tugging at his hair, his nose wrinkled up as he scowled. 

You should lie down. Like. Get in bed? So you can sleep? You can’t go to sleep if you’re not laying down, and you need to sleep, Leo pointed out.

What if something happens while we’re asleep? Loop Leo countered. Besides, we can’t lie down. Laying down makes us feel like we’re losing it. Can’t you feel how much energy we have?!

That’s not energy. That’s anxiety, Leo argued from his current spot, way in the back of his own mind, trapped in some tiny metaphorical cage. But, of course, he was ignored.

‘Cause the real bummer of the matter was that the later it got on nights like this, the more ‘Loop Leo’ and ‘Leo’ kind of blurred together, until they were basically just the same person.

He paced for a while, spiraling around his room. He checked the locks on all his windows, and then he went downstairs and checked all the doors and the security system. He then almost set off said security system because his brain was so foggy and moving so slowly that he nearly mistyped the password. And then when he realized his close call, he had spent some time stressing about that, too, laying on the couch with his face buried in the pillows, because he just didn’t wanna be in one place right now, and besides, his room felt too small to be in anymore.

Leo groaned softly, rolling over onto his front, pulling the pillow over his head as he did so. He thought quietly to himself that he should have asked Dad for sleepy drugs, but then he would have worried Dad, and Dad would be stressed, and he didn’t even know if it would work for sure, and what if he poisoned himself, somehow, actually?

That’s literally why Dad holds onto the drugs. So that doesn’t happen. Just go wake him up! He won’t mind. He’ll give you the drugs. He’ll give you the correct dose! 

Nope, absolutely not. We cannot do that. Leo whined to no one in particular, rubbing at his face with his hands and rolling over onto his feet again. And he kind of stumbled a bit, and nearly fell over, but he didn’t. 

He couldn’t stay in one place anymore. It was driving him crazy.

He went down to the Lair. He played video games for, like, an hour and a half, and he lost every single one. He thought about playing Minecraft or something simple like that, but he was afraid he’d accidentally fuck it up and then be crushed about it later, so he didn’t. He laid out the gym mats with the intention of practicing some of his gymnastics routines that he was working on, and then thought, what, are you crazy? Right now, like this? You’ll break both your legs. You’ll get a head injury and die. So he put the mats back away. 

His sleepy brain thought about messing with some of Donnie’s stuff for a minute, ‘cause it might be funny, and then the anxiety brain went, are you insane!? And so he talked himself out of it at the last minute, heading back upstairs.

He checked all the windows and doors, (again,) and then peeked his head into his Dad’s room, just to make sure that he was still there and alive. He was, and was furthermore snoring softly in his bed, and Leo internally sighed in relief. He did another lap around the ground floor before he went up to the second, and did the same exact thing. Checked all the windows, and then checked on Mikey and Raph. And, just as he expected (or rather hoped?) they were both there. Mikey was all curled up in bed, snuggled up with his pillow, and drooling slightly on himself. His limbs would kind of twitch every now and again as he dreamed, and Leo smiled a tiny bit at the sight. Raph was splayed out across his mattress, amongst all his blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, his limbs flopped out in every which direction. Leo watched him for a little bit, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe, watching as his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath.

He stayed there for a few minutes, lingering on each family member for a spell before he finally moved on, closing the door behind him as he quietly could.

He made his way back up to the third floor. And he kind of had one of those ‘out-of-it’ moments for a second there and got dizzy and sort of blacked out real quick and almost fell, but then he didn’t. He caught himself, so it was fine, totally fine, but he still kind of rushed a bit the rest of the way up the stairs because suddenly he was sort of scared to be on them.

Once he reached the top, he ended up sitting in the hall for a bit, clenching and unclenching his fists and staring up at the ceiling. Eventually, he laid down on the hardwood floor, curled up on his side, and closed his eyes, like somehow this would be the fix and laying in the middle of the floor was the answer and he would finally be able to fall asleep like this. He stayed there for maybe five minutes before he gave up and got back to his feet, and he wandered towards Donnie’s room to do the exact same thing he had just done on the last two floors.

Very carefully, very quietly, he cracked open the door, leaning through the doorway to peek his head in, blinking a few times to adjust to the lighting.

And Donnie was there. Bundled up in bed beneath his weighted blanket, fast asleep, just like the rest of his family. Just like Leo had known (hoped) he would be.

See? Leo told himself. He’s fine. Everyone is fine. Chill.

And that should have been enough, right? That should be fine. He had physical eyes on him. He could see him, right there, literally, like, five feet away. 

The problem was that Donnie always slept under the covers, with his big weighted blanket layered up on top, curled up into a little ball. And his back was on Leo right now, facing the wall, leaving him with only a view of the back of his head.

So he couldn’t see if he was breathing or not.

This is stupid, Leo protested. Of course he’s breathing. Why wouldn’t he be breathing?

What if he’s not? Loop Leo countered. Something could have happened. He could be dead.

He’s not dead. And even if he was, what would we do about it? Cast Revivify? Use a Max Revive? 

Maybe he’s dying. 

Maybe he’s dying right now.

Maybe he just stopped breathing, just now.

Maybe he stopped breathing just before we came in, and he’s still alive, but not breathing, and we could still save him. What if we’re watching him die right now? What if he’s dying right now in front of us and we’re just watching him? 

What if he’s dying, and he dies, and then we’re just one person instead of a set? What if we have to live without him? What if we never talk to him again? And we can’t ask him for help with our homework ever again, or play Mario Kart with him, or show him dumb botany memes that make him laugh? What will you do when you see a stupid science joke and you wanna send it to him and make fun of it with him? What then?

What if he dies and leaves you and you let it happen?

He’s dying right now and you’re watching it happen.

Do something!!!

Leo’s feet were moving before he even realized they were.

He kind of stumbled a bit in his rush, not being the most coordinated person at the moment, only just managing to avoid face-planting right into Donnie’s bed frame. He kind of ended up flopping against Donnie’s bed, half falling on top of him, grabbing onto his blanket to hang onto and using his free hand to grab him and shake him.

“Donnie?” He hissed frantically, practically digging his nails into his brother’s form through the blankets. “Donnie!? Wake up!” He tightened his grip as his heart climbed up into his throat, because oh my god, he was dead, he wasn’t waking up, and he didn’t know what to do, and he was about to start screaming for their dad--

“Wha--? Leo? What the fuck is-- The house had better be on fire--” Donnie slurred, his voice weighed down with sleep, and Leo kind of paused for a moment, stopping dead and staring at him.

All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding wildly in his ears.

And then he sobbed, immediately throwing his arms around his twin and clinging desperately to him.

Donnie chirped in surprise, sort of floundering, his eyes wide as he stiffened.

“Leo? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I-- I thought you were dead--” Leo wept pitifully, burying his face against his shoulder.

“... Why would I be dead?”

“I-- I couldn’t see you breathing!!!”

“Leo, what the hell are you talking about? And why are you in my room?”

Leo hiccuped weakly, because, like, he didn’t actually have a good way to answer that? Hostage-Leo rattled the bars of their metaphorical mind cage and fucking wailed because oh my god, STOP, you are embarrassing yourself and being soooo fucking insane right now and it is NOT CUTE, get it together right this fucking instant!!!-- But actual, physical Leo did not have it together. Not in this instant or any of the following instances. He just wept and burrowed in closer to Donnie, hugging him as tight as he possibly could, and he knew he was probably pissing him off and he had just woken him up and he probably didn’t like this, but he had just--

He had been so fucking scared that he was dead.

He had been so scared that he was gone forever, and he’d never ever see him again.

Donnie sighed deeply, reluctantly wrapping an arm around Leo as he whimpered into his shoulder, giving him a few awkward pats on the back.

“You’re totally sleep deprived, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeahhhhhh…”

“Are you in a Loop?”

“Mm-hmm…”

“How many days has it been?”

“Foouuuurrrrrrrrr…”

“Jesus christ, Nardo.”

“I love y-youuuu…”

“Why didn’t you ask Dad for meds?”

“I don’t knowwww…!” Leo sobbed, because how the hell was he supposed to explain that, actually, he was too scared to do that because what if he somehow accidentally poisoned himself and died? That just seemed like wayyy too much to try to unpack at four in the morning, quite frankly.

“Oh my god. You’re so stupid…”

“Y-yeah…”

“And you’re totally losing it, I assume?”

“Mmm…”

“Okay,” Donnie sighed, patting Leo’s shoulders a few more times. “Come on. Get up.”

Leo whined loudly, tightening his grip in response and curling up closer to Donnie, all but koala-clinging to him while Donnie huffed a bit at the increased weight.

“Lee, come on--”

“Please lemme stay! I promise I, I won’t w-wake you up again--”

“You can stay, Nardo, but we’ve gotta go get meds first, okay?”

“Noooo…”

“Yessssss,” Donnie insisted, imitating his drawn-out, whiny tone, trying to pry his brother off of him. “Come on. You’re fucked up, so just let me fix you already, dum-dum. We’ve just gotta go downstairs and get your meds from Dad, alright?”

“I don’t wanna take meds…”

“Yes, you do, your brain is just operating at an even lower capacity than usual right now,” Donnie insisted, finally managing to worm his way out from under Leo and get up to his feet. Leo whimpered, a tiny bit of panic flaring up in his chest, attempting to chase after him and grab him back, but Donnie quickly danced out of the way, purposefully standing just out of arm’s reach.

“Come on. I’m going downstairs to get Dad. So if you wanna hang out and not be all by yourself, you’re gonna have to follow me,” he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing him with a hard stare.

Leo groaned softly, taking a moment, rubbing at his face with his hands and crying for just a tiny bit longer. He was feeling very miserable and frightened, as well as feeling very stupid for being so miserable and frightened. But even more than either of those, he just felt exhausted, and so very much did not want to have to get up or move or do anything else.

But even more than that-- he didn’t wanna be alone.

Finally, after several long moments, Leo gathered up just enough resolve to get to his feet, only wobbling a little bit as he did so. He reluctantly followed Donnie out into the hall, hanging onto their hand like a lifeline and sniffling softly. Honestly, he was being so brave about this. As soon as they approached the stairwell, however, he stopped short, digging his heels in with a whine and pulling back against the other.

Donnie sighed, his shoulders slumping with quiet exasperation.

“Leo, we’ve gotta go downstairs, remember?”

“Dee…”

“Leo.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Donnie quirked a brow.

“Okay, and?”

“I’m gonna fall down,” he hissed out, his voice absolutely drenched in worry, cracking the tiniest bit at the end. Much to his chagrin, he could feel himself tearing up again, but what if he did? He almost had coming up! What if he fell down and fractured his skull or something? Or even worse, what if he fell and took Donnie down with him, and fractured his skull? 

Donnie absolutely rolled his eyes at him.

“Leo, you’re not going to fall down. You are literally an award-winning acrobat. And I am also literally an award-winning acrobat. And I am holding your hand right now,” he said, shaking his arm as if to demonstrate. “And they’re stairs. I think that we can handle it with our powers combined. It is fine. You’re not gonna get hurt. I’m right here. Chill,” he pressed. “Are you ready?”

Leo wrinkled up his nose, hesitating. Donnie narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, look,” he huffed. “You can stay here if you want, but I have to go downstairs to get Dad so we can get your meds. So you can either wait up here, and I’ll be right back, or you can come down the stairs with me and we’ll go together. It’s your choice.”

Okay, fine. He’d brave the stairs. If he had to choose between risking the trip down or letting go of Donnie, who had literally just almost died, (... kinda,) then the stairs were definitely the lesser evil. 

Inhaling sharply and steeling himself, they started the trip downwards.

And would you believe it?

They were fine. 

He got a little overwhelmed and dizzy at a few places, but each time Donnie kept a hold on his arms, hanging onto him to make sure he stayed upright until it passed, and, hey, you know what? It turns out that he was, in fact, still fully capable of walking down stairs. Who knew? Hahaha…

Once they were on the ground floor, Donnie wasted no time in heading down the hall, towing Leo along by their connected hands into their dad’s room.

“Dad,” Donnie hissed softly, reaching over to try to shake him into consciousness. The poor man had been dozing quite peacefully up until now, and sort of twitched and snorted in his sleep slightly, mumbling to himself.

“I swear I’ve never been to Dallas…”

“Dad! Wake up!” Donnie pressed, a bit louder now, nudging him a few more times, until finally, their dad startled awake, his head jerking upwards as he blinked blearily.

“Hm…? Purple…? What’s… What’s wrong…?”

“Mom, I frew up,” Leo mumbled sleepily, extending his shoulders forward slightly to try to do the pose. Donnie whipped around to absolutely glare at him.

“Are you seriously quoting a fucking meme right now!?”

Leo giggled softly, maybe a bit hysterically, covering his face with his free hand and slumping against Donnie. His brother sighed loudly, rolling his eyes and scowling.

“Father, Leo needs his trazodone.”

Their dad was still clearly half-asleep, and it took him a second to process this, but to his credit he caught on fairly quickly, looking between the two and humming softly.

“Of course, of course…” he said, rolling over slightly in bed so he could begin shuffling through the drawers of his nightstand. Donnie, in the meantime, hoisted Leo off of himself, shoving him instead onto the bed.

“Sit.”

“You too!” Leo protested, and Donnie grumbled.

“Yes, okay, I’m also sitting. See me sitting?” He said, gesturing to himself with a flourish as he plopped down by his brother’s side, elbowing him a bit. “Here. Move over. Not, not there, there-- Stop it. If you fucking touch my face I’m going to fucking end you I swear to god--”

“Blue,” their father interrupted, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Leo blearily turned to face him, blinking slowly, and his dad very carefully pressed a little white oval pill into his palm. “Here.”

Leo stared for a moment, processing. And then he picked the pill up in his fingers, examining it carefully.

One. There was one of them.

And he was pretty confident it was trazodone.

And there was just one. And it was 150mg. He was supposed to have 150mg. This should be… right. It should be okay. He was… 80% sure. He counted a few more times, just to be safe.

“It’s the right dose, Blue. It’s alright. I double-checked,” Dad assured, passing them over a glass of water from his bedside table as well. “I promise it’s okay.”

“You’re fine, Nardo,” Donnie mumbled, having already flopped down onto his stomach, curled up against his twin’s side. He reached over so he could rub Leo’s back. Or maybe kind of smack it. Flail his arm at it? “Dad won’t fuck it up or poison you. Please just take your meds.”

And Leo considered this for a second. And yeah, okay.

He supposed that checked out. 

He was still scared. But he took the pill anyway, tipping his head back to swallow it down.

“Thank you,” Dad said, resisting a yawn, plucking the water back from his hands to place out of harm’s way before patting his back a few times. “Come on. Lay down.”

Donnie muttered what might have been agreement, snuggling his way under the covers, his eyes already closed. Leo hummed softly in response, and then very slowly, carefully, eased his way down in bed beside the others.

He blinked up at the ceiling, shifting a bit to settle in, laying his head down against the pillow. Donnie adjusted the blankets around Leo, yanking them up over him, wriggling somewhat to force Leo to scootch over slightly so he could curl up against his side. And on his other side, Dad settled in as well, rolling over slightly so that he could wrap an arm around Leo.

And so Leo settled in, too. 

And he waited.

Waited to see if the drugs were gonna kick in properly and knock him out or not.

And it was kind of nice, at least, because he could feel both of them breathe like this.

He started doing that thing he tried to do sometimes, where he made a mental list of some random category in alphabetical order, because, in theory, it would help you get to sleep. He was doing comic book characters this time, rolling his tongue around in his mouth as he stared up at the ceiling.

Astro Boy. Batman. Catwoman. Daredevil. Eddie Brock. Fantastic Four. Ghost Rider. Hawkgirl.

He was surprised when, in his second rotation through the ABC’s, he heard Donnie very softly mumble.

“Are you asleep yet?”

Leo gaped for a moment.

“... You’re not?”

“No, dum-dum. I’m waiting for you,” Donnie whispered in response, and he heard his father very softly hum on the other side of him, drawing him in just a bit closer and giving him a gentle squeeze.

“... You don’t have to--”

“Shut up,” Donnie interrupted. “Are you doing the deep breathing thing?”

“... No, I’m doing the alphabet thing.”

“Okay. Keep going,” Donnie bade, nuzzling up against his shoulder slightly, and Leo couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. Okay,” he whispered into the darkness of the room, laying his head back down again and settling in properly this time, sandwiched between the two.

“Oh. Also, I love you too. Let the record show that I said it back.”

Leo laughed a tiny bit.

He closed his eyes.

Iron Man. Jean Grey. Kitty Pryde. Lightspeed.

… Moon Knight… Nightcrawler…

…Obelix…

…

… Professor X…

…

… … …

[scarlettriot]

♡ COPPER KISS ♡

✦ Kiri X f!Reader

✦ Warnings: Smut • Minors & Blank Blogs DNI, Biting, Blood, Drinking, Public Sex, Cum Eating (I guess). Nicknames Used: Baby, Sweets, Red (for Kiri).

✦ This wasn’t the ficlet I intended on writing but horny brain took over and this is what came out… my bad. It’s super short but my kinks decided they needed to be written tonight. I also didn’t proof this one bit ♡ enjoy!

Kirishima who’s always been careful about his teeth. He knows how sharp they are, often cutting the insides of his cheeks or nicking his lip.

But he’s never once let them hurt you, not in all the years you’ve been together. No, just the thought has him slowing down your heated make out sessions, and you can always tell when he gets in his head about it. The way he tenses under your touch and becomes more timid with his movements.

He’s brought his quirk out on occasion, after you asked many a time. He’d rip through your pretty clothes any time you asked. But, even then, he was careful never to graze your skin.

So, when the night came that he had your back pinned against the cool bricks of the bar you’d been celebrating a friends birthday at, a knee pressed right up to your core, you felt hot kisses trail down your neck and then he stopped under the pale moon glow. Those garnet eyes fixated on where his jacket slide off your shoulder and his tongue wet his lower lip without him realizing it, heat rising in his cheeks, gods, what would it be like?

It wasn’t the first time he caught himself wondering. Imagining each sharp point puncturing your delicate skin.

“Eiji,” Your voice called him back, “go ahead.” His brows furrowed, silently asking you to explain. Your fingers held the back of his head and guided him right to the spot he’d been transfixed on. “I wanna know what it’s like too. Please?”

His heart hammered away. “You’re sure?” You nodded and rolled your hips again over his thigh. Making your head tip to the side and expose more for him.

He cradled your cheek in his hand, “hold still f’me, sweets. I mean it.” And you felt his thumb slide under your jaw to make sure you stayed in place. His breath fanned out across your skin, tongue darting out and honing in on the thick vein that he needed to avoid. His jaw opened and he set the points carefully in place, waiting for you to change your mind.

You didn’t though. You whined instead, a pitiful little sound, desperate for it. And he delivered.

Ticking his jaw closed little by little, testing limits and not yet breaking skin. He listened as your whines turned to moans, “more, Red, need more—!”

He couldn’t hold back then. Your skin effortless gave in to him. You couldn’t see how blown his pupils became. Pushing his teeth down until little beads of blood started collecting on his tongue. He couldn’t keep the muscle from seeking out more. Already addicted to the taste.

“More. ‘S okay, baby, I can take it.”

That was the best thing he heard all night because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop now. Rutting his hips against yours as crimson slipped from the corners of his mouth. Trickling down your skin while you worked his belt free.

He had you up in his arms before you knew it. Panties barely hanging around your ankle, his cock stuffed so deep in you, as he made a brand new mark to match the first on the opposite side of your neck.

Your cries echoed off the alley walls. People probably heard but neither of you cared. Too lost in each other to consider anything else.

Neither of you last too long. New sensations pushing you both into ecstasy quicker than you ever expected.

He pulled both his teeth and cock out of you at the same moment along with a pretty little whimper from your lips that he silenced with a copper laced kiss.

Of course, he helped you step back into your panties, admiring the way his cum was dripping down your thighs and your blood down your chest. “Gorgeous…” he murmured and used his tongue to clean both messes with the sweetest smile on his stained lips. “Let’s get you home. Gotta take care of you properly.”

[newtabfics]

please tabby. i will offer every secret stone i can find. my whump brain needs it. please. Ganondorf reviving y/n after the heat stroke. I must know.

...ok but if you get them, i can't promise that I won't eat them, alright?

Also the writing for this will be from personal experience. I had a lot of health issues which effectively led to me not having the ability to sweat most of my life. So I'd get overheated very easily.

Trigger warnings for heat exhaustion.

Y/N blinked slowly as their voices began to muffle.

"Do you want to try joining in?" Link asked Ganondorf.

"Erm, I'm not sure. Mostly, their sizes," He confessed, scratching his cheek.

Y/N squinted, blinking harder as her pace slowed behind them. Her body began to feel heavy and numb all at once as her heart seemed to pick up in pace. She tried to think, focusing on her breath in an attempt to steady herself as her vision began to grow fuzzy. It was as though she were slowly pulling her glasses off her nose as her gaze went up to Link, wondering if she were much thirstier than she'd thought.

She tried to open her mouth to speak, wanting to ask Link to pass her the water skin as she lifted her hand. The movement completely overwhelmed her with the difficulty of it as her knees buckled, the world suddenly becoming white.

Ganondorf stiffened when he heard something fall into the sand and looked back. As Zelda cried out her name, he hurried to her side, checking her pulse as he pulled her to him.

"The heat," He said simply, studying her limp body. Her breaths were becoming shallow as her face flushed. His eyes darted over the desert canvas before locking onto a piece of Zonai ruin that created shade within the desert. "Over there," He said, hurrying her to the shade.

Link and Zelda struggled to catch up with him, noting his long strides to get her to shelter faster. He carefully laid her down and took off the pack he'd been tasked in carrying.

"Pitch the tent. I'm going to search for a Hydromelon," He said, already standing.

"No," Link said. "I'll go. I know where they grow." He hesitated before looking to Zelda worriedly.

"I'll stay to monitor her," She affirmed. "I'll be alright."

Link nodded and hurried the exact opposite direction Ganondorf intended to go, making him frown.

Of course they would be growing in different places than he'd remembered.

"We need to remove some of her clothing," Zelda said, startling him out of his thoughts as he turned to see her removing her boots first before removing the over shirt, leaving her in her pants and sleeveless top.

"Shelter," He reminded himself before getting to work on the small tent, ensuring she was shielded from the overbearing sun. Even Zelda seemed to display some relief at the new shade.

"She needs hydration," Zelda sighed, frowning as she studied her. "She won't wake."

He wordlessly, moved closer to her, kneeling beside her unconscious form as he grabbed the water skin. "I need you to pour slowly into her mouth," He sternly said. "I'm going to attempt massaging the muscle here to trigger her reflex."

Zelda blinked and nodded, grateful for his quick thinking as she watched him adjust her against him. He was almost cradling the Hylian in his arms as she carefully poured the water into her mouth.

His fingers worked carefully over her neck as he frowned, watching the water dribble at the corner before her throat swallowed at last. His body only relaxed then as he carefully dragged his thumb over her jaw to wipe away the water.

"That should be enough for the moment," He muttered, laying her back down carefully as Link hurried back to them. He took one of the melons into his hand and sighed. He pleaded whatever gods might listen to him to make this work as he held the melon over her head and ripped it open.

Both Link and Zelda were shocked by the sheer force of the rip as well as the water that suddenly dropped down onto Y/N's face.

The Sheikah woman gasped as she jolted up, eyes frantically scanning over everyone as she scrambled to stand, only to be stopped by a large hand on her shoulder.

"Easy, easy," Ganondorf rumbled gently, making her sit as she looked to him, shaking. "Just relax. You passed out from the heat."

Y/N blinked almost dumbly at him as Zelda let out the breath she was holding. "You're awake," She sighed in relief.

"I am," Y/N could only mumble tiredly as her body suddenly felt heavy again. An arm wrapped around her, making her look up at the Gerudo as he carefully adjusted her close to him again.

"Rest. Drink water," He stated, holding up his water skin. He helped her by tilting the skin and pouring gently until she grunted to stop and swallowed what she could.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Link asked, making her blink and look down. "You know we would've stopped if you needed a break."

"I thought…I could handle it," She mumbled, shoulders slumping as she leaned into Ganondorf's arms. "I'm sorry."

Link sighed, watching the man rub his thumb soothingly over her shoulder. "You shouldn't push yourself," Zelda scolded. "We're glad you're alright but next time, speak up. Please. We already feel terrible enough the teleport function is out of order."

Ganondorf almost glared at her, wondering why she felt the need to express her guilt for something completely out of her control. Was she trying to make Y/N feel bad for passing out because she'd decided to join them on their journey to the desert or–

"Mm, tight," Y/N suddenly whimpered, making him flinch. He was still holding her against him. "Ganny, I'm okay…I'm sorry for scaring you."

He snorted as a small smile graced his lips. "I'm not scared."

"Liar," Link whispered to Y/N. "He panicked and ran for shelter for you."

Y/N giggled and smiled up at him. "Thank you, Ganondorf."

He stared at her for a long moment before laying her down and walking around, standing afar to keep an eye out for any enemies. To Link and Zelda, they found it strange and unnerving.

"Take a compliment," Link muttered to her, making her shrug in agreement.

Y/N smiled softly. "Nah, guys. He's embarrassed," She chuckled.

If only she knew how her words went straight for his chest, sending a surge he hadn't felt since his battle against Link: Pride.

[mysteriouslysaltypoetry]

I Get Cold Easy

Chapter 3

Raph x reader story A/N: Chapter 3 is hereeeee, i actually really liked this one! It's all very soft and sweet. Mikey is my lovely boy and the best dumb of head but big of heart! Hope y'all enjoy! I made a small playlist to go along with this one! Its what i was listening to to help me get the mood of it

Chapter 1/ 2

Raph lost track of the trio a while ago, their bodies disappearing amongst the other people dancing, at least Mikey was there in case anything happened but still, he liked knowing where his people were for his own sake. Vern and Jones were also off god knows where, some girls came to talk to them a few minutes ago and took them to get drinks, they didn’t seem bad but they were definitely a bit too much for his tastes, at least the other too looked entertained enough.

Soon though, he spotted the others coming back after another quick look around, only when he saw them he figured something was obviously off, if the look on (Y/N) wasn’t enough of a sign then April and his brother’s concerned faces were two flashing red warning signs. And it wasn’t only him that noticed it either, Leo straightened his back right as he spotted them, his own eyes scanning their features for anything that could tell him what had happened.

“Guys? What’s with the looks?” Donnie asks when they reach the table, (Y/N) grabs her purse and holds it against her chest with a defeated sigh.

“I just lost my need for a party,” she points to someone in the back and April is quick to pull her into a comforting side hug, kissing her cheek gently.

“You see that guy over there? The one in blue with the pink girl basically draped on top of him? Yeaaah that’s (Y/N)’s now EX boyfriend…”

The three of the turtles hiss in unison ‘Yikes…’ Raph winces at the sight, the fact that a girl like (Y/N) could have something like this happen to her will never not baffle him, that loser just fumbled what seems like a MASSIVE bag, but hey, it sure is not gonna be him who tells him that.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that (Y/N), if there is anything we can do?” Leo offers, always the gentleman he thinks with an internal roll of his eyes.

“Thanks, but right now I just want to get out of here and forget this ever happened…” she says rubbing her arms in what Raph can only guess is an attempt at feeling better. Thankfully (or not) his younger brother always seems to have something to say in awkward situations.

“Well then let’s dip! Who cares about this place anyway? It’s super crowded.” He says with a smile, hand on her shoulder.

“Oh! I couldn’t ask that of you guys… you stay and enjoy the rest of the night. I’ll just go home and drown myself in some cake and romcoms.” She tries and chuckles, but it comes out a bit wetter that what was probably intended.

“Are you kidding? I’m going where you go, not leaving you to fend off for yourself after that!” April says immediately, holding her even closer than before.

“Yeah, and it’s not like we would want to stay here when such people are around anyway, not to mention its dangerous for you two to walk alone at night” Adds his brother. Raph nods and gets up, walking over to her.

“Also, yer with us now, shorty. We don’t wanna see you sad, much less sad AND alone.” He says, placing his hand on top of her hands, gently taking her purse and nodding to the entrance. The others nod and they all quickly make their way out, April quickly sending a text to Casey to explain what happened.

“Alright!” Mikey claps his hands, surprising everyone “This night took a wild turn but I know JUST the thing to help you feel better, angelcakes” he pulls (Y/N) to his side and dramatically sticks his hand out as if to make his point more convincing.

“I don’t know, I’m not really up for anything that requires me to use any of my mental capacities Mikey…” she sighs and let’s herself sag against his brother.

“That’s the best part! You shall not have to move a muscle on that big brain of yours!” he chuckles “This is our super secret way of relaxing and getting out of the blues” he adds, and oh, now Raph knows where this is going and so do the other three, it was like their tradition at this point and sure enough, it worked wonders.

“What do you say toooo… some pizza, good music, and city gazing?” Mikey asks in a soft tone, giving her some space to think properly. The others smile encouragingly.

“That… sounds great actually.” She chuckles, looking around them “I could really go for a bite, or five.” She says, making everyone laugh with her.

And so it was decided, they went to their favourite place for pizza (and honestly? It was the best no matter what Casey said about it.) and made their way to April and (Y/N) building. The night breeze got colder and colder as they approached.

“Allllrighty ladies, please be sure to hold onto a designated turtle as well as your belongings, we’re going to the magical place we call: The Roof~” Mikey sing songs, and soon enough Donnie offers April his hand and quickly makes his way up the roof along with Leo.

(Y/N) turns to Raph, holding out her hand with a small smile “The nice fella did say for me to hold onto my belongings, unless of course you would prefer to carry it up there.” She said, her tone already a bit more cheerful then when they were in the club. He laughs and shakes his head, handing her the purse.

“Nah hop in, I’ll make sure the ride up there is smooth and quick.” He says taking her into one of his arms and following his brothers.

They all get to the top and start to settle in, pizza boxes open on the floor, and a comfy silence surrounding them. Taking out his phone and his portable speaker Mikey puts on one his playlists, the air around them is cozy and peaceful. A few minutes later and everyone is talking amongst themselves, Leo is sitting next to Donnie who has April draped across his lap, happily chewing on her slice, Raph himself is sitting crisscross on the floor, with (Y/N) resting her head on his legs and is resting her own on top of Mikey.

“Thanks guys, this means a lot, and it’s infinitely better than what I was planning on doing.” She says, nuzzling closer into his leg, it had been a while Raph thought, since they had had a new friend join their group and since anyone had been as close to them without it being asking questions about their mutation or how it was being vigilantes/ ninjas. ‘This is nice’ runs through his mind as his hand settles on her shoulder, only to notice how absolutely frigid it was.

“Dude… yer freezing! How the hells didn’t ya turn blue yet?” he asks with wide eyes, to which she only shrugs.

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’m always extremely cold. I got used to by now.” She tries and waves him off, shoving some more pizza on her mouth. The red clad turtle shakes his and starts taking off his jacket, dropping it on top of her.

“There, put it on. I ain’t taking no damn popsicle to the hospital today, nor am I taking care of a sick one.” he says while reaching for another slice.

(Y/N) sighs but does as he says nonetheless, safe to say the thing is absolutely gigantic on her but it does the job and she settles back on his leg right after. And that’s how they spend the night, talking and laughing, listening to some good music and looking out at the city, watching the people ad cars pass by.

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

Brokenbrow (pt. 2)

For: @elenaramirez Location: The Punch Cage

Part 1

Thorsiffe raised their fists in victory, a grin spreading upon their lips. Once the joy of battle fell upon them, everything else became a murmur on the back of their mind, and only now did they truly take in all those calling out to them. They rounded the ring, laughing and punching the air in triumph, reveling in their glory.

Looking out the ring, Thorsiffe met the eyes of a stranger they had not yet seen in the years they had come here. They tilted their head, giving her a curious look for a moment, before their lips curled up into a grin again. They winked at her, before punching into the air one last time.

Another brief rest, another bottle of water chugged, and Thorsiffe stood in the ring once more. The announcer's voice boomed throughout the room again. "We've seen Dragonheart, the northern wolf, take on the deadly Nightshifter and brave the Inferno... However," the earth rumbled as their new opponent stepped into the ring. Thorsiffe's eyes sparkled with excitement, even as they wished they'd hold such power.

"Can they take on the divine might, of the God of War?!"

Their new opponent was a deity; such was obvious, and furthermore his scent confirmed it. He was a giant of a man, almost as big as their Egil, standing around two meters tall and with chiseled, bulging muscles. His short black hair and beard were well kempt, his tanned skin was painted in gold, and his golden eyes seemed to bore right into Thorsiffe's soul.

"Could you not come up with a more creative name?" they teased, giggling and taking their stance.

"Come mock me again once you've claimed a dragon's heart, pup," he responded stoically, voice low and rumbling as the mountain.

Thorsiffe charged. Part of them wished to call upon Vegrleita, to let it sing upon the air and give them a chance against this foe. However, Vegrleita was a weapon of war and war alone. Their foe's name might invoke it, yet this fight was far from it. They would make due with the fire of their blood and the thunder in their bones.

They spring onto one foot, readying themself for a kick, but are immediately swept off their feet instead. The moment they hit the ground, Thorsiffe rolls backwards and onto their feet.

The ground shakes as God of War takes a step upon where they just lay, and Thorsiffe could not help but wonder if they would have survived, had such a step been taken upon their chest.

Within the blink of an eye, God of War is upon them. His massive fist shoots out towards their face, and it is all Thorsiffe can do to move their head aside just in time. Another step forward from their foe. They meant to act, but even before the violence moves from their brains to their bones, the wind is knocked out of them as God of War brings his knee up into their stomach. They were quite sure they would have been knocked up into and through the ceiling had he not held back. A courtesy they were grateful for. Still, they are lifted a ways into the air and let out an undignified yelp.

They might never win this match, but they would never go out without a worthy attempt.

Before their feet even touch the ground, Dragonheart's hands get a grip of God of War's shorts. Of course, he immediately knows what they intend to do and starts to wind up a kick. However, Thorsiffe had telegraphed their intentions with intent. Grinning, they lift him up by the shorts the moment their feet hit the ground. Instead of trying to kick him up and roll him over their thigh though, they take another step forward and spin around, letting God of War's own kick spin them around and throw him onto his back.

Their foe grunts in pain and frustration, but Thorsiffe laughs. Before they can do anything else they're sent flying. They can't even really tell which limb he used this time around. It doesn't matter either. Their foe had thought himself invincible, thought them unworthy to bring him pain. He had been wrong.

Thorsiffe crashes through the cage's fence and into a wall. The world goes dark, blood trickling down their brow, but their grin remains upon their lips.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse - Ch 9

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much. │ Masterlist / Chapter Map │

IX.

Helen made her way back to the guest bedroom, where John had placed her things. She had not mentioned it yet, but the sight of a massive bouquet of cheerful white Shasta daisies upon a side table swelled her heart to bursting. How had he managed it? She reasoned that he must have a house keeper to execute such things. The thought of him running after a house this size, vacuuming and dusting in between fulfilling contracts definitely made her grin.

She noticed his thoughtfulness had struck again in the bathroom, with artisan made soaps and bodywash that smelled like honey, rosemary, and looked like they had been extremely expensive. As she washed the grime of their lessons away she may have lingered a little extra long just to luxuriate a bit.

Not too long, though.

She was eager to get back to John, missing his company already.

She had it bad.

Maybe she should have kissed him earlier, when his arm had been wrapped around her waist like a band of steel. And yet, the older woman in her savored the slowly burning fuse between them, even if it was driving her a little mad. She knew from experience this was the sweetest part. The longing. The desire. The heavy looks and lingering touches. The honeymoon, as it were, when it seemed like the object of your devotion could do no wrong. She’d never been with anyone with whom that did not fade.

Maybe John would be the exception.

Maybe she really was losing her damn mind.

Fresh from the shower, she made her way to her bag. Maybe she’d exaggerated a little about the size of the first aid kit. There was a little something for everything within its confines; she liked to be prepared, and she felt like she’d packed just the right outfit for the moment. Maybe John would be so overcome by her beauty he would finally grab her up and kiss her—she snorted at the absurdity of the thought, even if, in the back of her mind, she kindled the hope.

John took a quick shower, careful of his new dressing, not wanting to displease Nurse Helen, although the thought of getting a rise out of her made the blood rush from his brain to a decidedly less helpful area. When she leveled him with that certain look…god. It made him want to grab her up and throw her down.

***

No, no, no, he scolded himself, looking down. Such thoughts were not helpful at all.

Maybe he would get a reward for being a good boy, and not wrecking the dressing.

The thought of that didn’t help either.

Exasperated with himself and his increasingly unhinged thoughts, he made his way to the kitchen, getting to work. He liked to cook. He found it relaxing, perhaps because he didn’t actually get the chance to do it all that often. Nights at home were a luxury in his business, and he intended to enjoy this one to the fullest.

He was prepping some asparagus crowns when Helen padded around the corner in a wide-necked ivory sweater dress that nearly cost him a finger. He paused in his chopping, his eyes all for her as she slid onto the stool across from him at the island.

“Can I do anything to help?” she asked with a sparkle in her eye that suggested she had an idea of what he was thinking as he looked at her. Little did he know, she was experiencing similar heart palpitations at the sight of him in his simple black button down, the open throat accenting the muscles of his chest to an utterly unfair advantage. Does he even know? she wondered. Somehow, she doubted it. Though he dressed well, he didn’t actually seem vain. Or if he was, he hid it better than any good-looking man she’d ever known.

“No,” John refused. “You’ve had a long day thanks to me. I insist you sit there, and look beautiful, and have a glass of wine if you would like one.”

She giggled at hearing that, propping her chin on her hand. “You’ve had a long day too, putting up with me.”

He started back on trimming the ends off of the asparagus, feeling that tell-tale heat blooming at his collar.

“I’ve had…a wonderful day, with you.” He looked up through his hair after he said it, dark-eyed and a little vulnerable. Helen felt her heart melt a little more for it.

“Me too,” she agreed quietly. “There’s never a dull moment with you, John.”

The corner of his mouth ticked. “I wouldn’t mind a few more dull moments. Or at least, quiet ones.”

“Are you...” She bit her lip. “Maybe I shouldn't ask you that.” 

“You can ask me anything,” he told her, and meant it. 

“Ok. Are you getting burnt out on your job?” 

He tilted his head, really thinking about it. It was all he'd ever known. He'd never even considered quitting, until meeting this woman, and daring to dream about what a life could be like outside the Underworld. 

“I've never actually liked my job,” he admitted. “But I never really had a choice either. Excelling at what I do was the only path to some semblance of freedom for me.” 

“And do you have to keep doing it? Just, indefinitely, forever?”

He sighed. He was so in demand, for Viggo, and those the Bratva boss lent him out to, for the right price. He couldn't imagine them ever letting him retire, even to a quieter post like Charon or Winston enjoyed. 

“I don't know,” he answered truthfully. The Impossible Task was a thing of legend among their kind. He'd never known of anyone who had come out from one alive. He'd considered it before, abstractly. Like something he might pursue when he finally needed one last challenge to cut the boredom. 

That was before he had something to lose. 

Pouring her a glass of red wine, he asked, “What about you? Is nursing what you've always wanted to do?” 

Helen accepted the glass of wine with a grateful smile. “I've been a caretaker for as long as I can remember. It seemed like a natural step, and it was a life line for my sister and I. We left Boston as soon as we could. We lived in the shittiest little apartment in the Bronx while I went to school, and waited tables, and Eve worked in a coffee house and sold her art. God...those days. I can't say I miss them. I was so grateful for my first shift after graduation. It was the first time since my father passed that I felt some sense of stability in my life. I felt, almost, safe.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”

John found he despised the thought of Helen not feeling secure. It made him want to do something insane, like offer to take care of her forever.

“Hmm. I am going to start the grill, and then you are going to tell me what you like to do when you're not taking care of everyone else around you.” 

With a soft smile she watched him exit out the sliding glass doors to the patio beyond. She found that watching him doing the smallest things moved her. The poetry of his long-fingered hands, even when just chopping vegetables. Walking out a door. More preferably, walking towards her.

It felt alarmingly warm, and cozy.

It felt like... Oh no. Not yet. Leave that bastard of a four-letter word out for now. It only complicated things, unbearably so, in most cases. She just wanted to enjoy this, without jumping out of her skin, or thinking too much about the future.

It had always been her job to think about the future, and it was something that was hard to turn off.

When John returned, sliding the door closed behind him, he offered Helen a small smile that warmed her to her toes.

This man.

It really wasn’t fair.

She watched as he poured himself a glass of wine, inhaling deeply before taking a sip. “Is it alright?” 

“It's wonderful,” she complimented. “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. Shouldn't be long on the grill. Are you hungry?” 

“Starving.” 

As she looked at him across the island, she knew she wasn't just talking about food. She just couldn't stop herself from looking at him like something she wanted to eat. She couldn't tell if he knew it, too, but those soulful dark eyes staring into hers warmed her from her heart to her toes, and everything in between. 

***

Helen sat at the head of the huge dining table, at John’s insistence. Rather than have a ridiculously removed meal with a league between them from opposite ends of the table, he set a place for himself to her right. She watched as he lit two taper candles in modern wrought iron sconces, smiling softly. “I’ve never had occasion to actually use these,” he confesses, and she wonders if that means he’d never had company here before?

John was a private man, and she supposed that just maybe it was possible.

The light outside the wall of windows was fading as night fell, and the candlelight lent a warm intimacy to the cavernous space around them. Half through her first glass of wine on an empty stomach, Helen was definitely feeling the glow.

Dinner was simple but delicious, the steaks grilled to perfection. She knew that she was perhaps reading into it more than she should, in her state of slight inebriation, but there was something rather primal about a man cooking a meal for a woman. It probably called back to vestigial memories of the hunter laying the kill of the day by the fire. I feed you. Maybe it was silly, but Helen couldn’t help but feel utterly cared for. It was refreshing, to say the least. She wasn’t sure she dared finish the rest of that archaic thought, but maybe in the back of her mind a little voice whispered the rest:  

I feed you, because you are mine.

John’s foot bumped hers under the table. Sitting so close, it was inevitable their mutually long limbs would become tangled. “Sorry,” he apologized, and she simply smiled into her wine glass, pointedly placing her foot over his.

“It’s alright,” she answered, and the warmth in his eyes from across the table sent a thrill through her bones.

“So,” said John, clearing his throat. “You were going to tell me what you like to do in your free time, when you’re not keeping everyone around you from falling to pieces.”

She laughed softly, and the sparkle in her molten-sugar eyes was utterly melting. Wine, John thought. They were definitely going to need more wine.

With a shrug she answered, “I’m not…really that interesting, John. You already know I like to read. I draw a little. I like walking in the woods, and on the beach. Maybe visit the occasional museum. Sometimes I like movies, but usually they’re just too dumb to invest the time these days.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Honestly, most of my life, I’ve been too busy taking care of someone else to have serious hobbies.”

He frowned, thinking he would give her all the free time in the world, if she would let him. He wanted to think that was just the wine talking, but…it wasn’t. He absolutely knew it wasn’t.

 “If you had all the time you wanted, what would you do?”

She pursed her lip, thinking about that, like it had never occurred to her that it could ever be a possibility. “You know, I took a printmaking class in college that I really liked. I always wished I could do that more, but…it takes room, and equipment, and it makes a big mess. But there was just something about the snap of pulling that first print after spending all the time on the prep work, drawing the design and carving the plate. No matter how well you tried to plan, there would always be some kind of surprise on the paper. Something unexpected and out of your control, but usually something beautiful. Like a happy cosmic mistake. I loved that.”

John stared at her as she described this, and for the umpteenth time that day, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The subject of making art brought a light to her eyes that he found utterly addicting, and he wondered what it would take to outfit the other half of his binding workshop into a printmaking studio.

“When you make your first series of prints, I’ll bind them for you,” he offered, and she veritably glowed with the suggestion.

“That sounds amazing, John.” She leaned back in her chair, smiling across at him, seeming utterly content. “So how did you get into bookbinding?”

He shrugged a little. “I’ve always loved books. I didn’t get to have any formal schooling, really. They were my window to the outside world. I used to have to hide them, at the—” He almost said Theatre, but caught himself just barely. “At the place where I was trained.”

“Oh, John.” Helen reached across the table to him, sliding her fingers in his. He squeezed her hand appreciatively, grazing her knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s alright. When I was young I found this dogeared copy of Russian Fairy Tales by Afanasyev. It was old. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was actually rather valuable. I took it everywhere with me, all across the world, and over time the binding broke, the pages started falling out. After finishing a job and finally having a little money of my own, I took it to this bookshop to have it restored. The old man who owned it had this wonderful workshop. It smelled like leather and old parchment and glue, and for the first time since my mother was alive, I felt a sense of peace? I knew I wanted to learn how to save old books. To actually…create something, rather than just destroying all the time.”

He didn’t realize that his grip on Helen’s fingers had tightened, almost painfully so, until he’d finished speaking. He let up with a shaky sigh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Do you…”

“Go on.”

They had come too far, not to ask anything, now.

“Do you remember your mother?”

“A little,” he admitted. “Though more…a feeling, of being with her? I was very small. She would sing to me, and I remember being in her lap, and feeling like nothing could hurt me.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “How wrong I was.”

“She must have been an amazing woman, for your father to risk running away with her.”

John nodded pensively. The similarities in his own current situation had not escaped him. “Yes, I’m sure she was. But did he have the right, knowing the risk? Knowing the danger he put her in?” He could not mask the feeling behind these words; he knew they spoke in double meanings and of their parallel circumstances, and in a way he was asking her permission, and it was all so heady and terrifying he could hardly stand it.

How do people live like this, he marveled? Feeling so much, all the time?

“That’s a fair question,” agreed Helen, nodding. “But maybe more importantly, I think if you could ask her if he’d been worth the risk…if you had been worth the risk…I think I know what she would have said. I am certain she would have said yes.”

Her eyes met his, the candlelight reflecting in those caramel orbs almost rendering them gold, and it took every iota of self-control John possessed not to drag her into his lap. Instead he settled for pressing his lips to her knuckles, so grateful for this woman who brought such light into his life.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” she answered quietly. “And it’s not about who deserves what, anyway.” It was about two people who like each other, who understand the risks, and who make a decision to be together—or not. She didn’t say that part aloud. She hoped she didn’t need to.

A few moments more, and John managed to regain his composure, though he didn’t let go of Helen’s hand. When he found his voice again, it came rough with emotion.

“Would you like to see my books?”

She smiled, and it was like the sun from behind a cloud.

“Yes.”

[of-the-nightsky]

Just Maybe

Disclaimers: NijiEn Fanfic | Piokuma | Vox Akuma 3.0 x Doppio Dropscythe 2.0 | BL / MLM | Strangers to crushes to lovers (?)

Summary: Maybe he didn't have to trash the place out of frustration. Maybe he didn't have to take a walk to cool himself down. But... but maybe he really shouldn't be staring...

"JuSt gO FoR a wAlK aLrEaDy!" He mocked, stomping his way down the familiar passage. "Go CoOl OfF! Geez, can't a guy just punch a wall to just punch a wall?"

Okay, so maybe he didn't just punch a wall because he burned himself on the toaster oven again. But it totally started it, he saw it giving him the evil eye!

("WITH WHAT EYES DOPPI??? WITH WHAT EYES???" screamed the Ver in his head again. Seriously, he swore it had eyes.)

Alright, sure, the toaster oven was innocent until he became the judge and sentenced it to a life of being broken, again, but it was with good reason! He was just trying to make a poptart in it with a little toaster strudel buddy, he didn't think twice about it. Now he has to be a "good boy" and go for a walk.

Yeah, whatever Ver, you keep thinking I just need a walk! He thought sulkily. Sure, he had qualities that rivaled the dogs in that popular animated movie and all, but he was a big scary wolf and not some dumb dog. His tail did not wag when he was called a good boy, it did not!

("Pio, you can say that all you want, but your advanced butt-whip just knocked over a vase of flowers, again." Ver, nobody calls it a butt-whip, it's a tail. Stop giving it weird names, last time you called it the Mess-Maker-Plume-Master-3,000.)

Maybe Ver was on to something, Doppio wasn't sure anymore. Maybe he shouldn't have punched the toaster oven so hard it busted through a wall. Maybe he shouldn't have chased after it to "finish the job" or whatever his wolf-aligned brain hyper focused on doing.

Although it did frustrate him that it burned him. Guilt slowly clawed its way into his heart. Maybe he was a bad boy and he should have tried being good a lot harder. Maybe he didn't have to trash the place out of frustration. Maybe he didn't have to take a walk to cool himself down. But... but maybe he really shouldn't be staring at the demon who was their neighbor five blocks away. Wait, since when did I even walk this far?? Oh, whatever, what is this dude doing, gardening? Lame.

Or so he thought it was until he saw how the literal butterflies just seemed to love the flowers so much. Like, they were made for the butterflies to feed from. Maybe staring wasn't a bad idea. It was a good view of a big strong man showing a tender and gentle side.

He stared for a solid minute, zoning out and finding his own inner peace. He watched how the muscles moved beneath the taut shirt and pants, watched how the behemoth of a man even greeted a harmless hummingbird with a soft rumbling voice hiked up into such a fond high tone.

Oh.

Oh dear.

His heart couldn't take it.

The man stood up to adjust the hummingbird feeder he had set up and did so without a fucking ladder.

The muscular man was obviously able to tower over even him, Doppio himself, without it even being close. Not only that, but he was being so gentle for the tiniest and most fragile of creatures and he could not handle it.

He didn't even know how long he was staring at this large man, envisioning how it must be like to get the best fucking head pats in the world by such a gentle giant of a man. It was long enough as rose pink irises glanced his way and their eyes met.

The heat rose on Doppio's face. He was caught. He really shouldn't have been staring. He was pining for a stranger for the past devil-knows how long! (No God would ever look upon him and not think his stare was sinless!)

"Going for walk!" He blurted out far louder than he intended before turning and starting to speed-walk away. He was confident his face was every shade of scarlet.

It was mildly embarrassing. He lied to himself.

He didn't hear any fond chuckling that made his long wolfen ears burn and flatten against his skull.

And most certainly,

Undoubtedly...

His tail, most definitely did not wag.

Nope.

Nobody saw it.

Anyone who claimed so were liars!

Vox, for all he was worth, never expected to be spotted by such a unique golden-eyed magenta wolf man. Not that he was opposed to it. He found it cute in a way. The poor wolf was just watching him like a lost puppy having his first outing. His eyes shining like a meadow of dandelion's that have yet invaded the hill behind it. It was so precious and innocent. He didn't know who they were, but he hoped to see them again. Especially seeing how red their face had gone when their eyes met. It was rather delightful after spending many long years by himself. Maybe doing his garden once a day wouldn't be a bad idea if it meant possibly meeting such a wolf. And maybe, he could invite him in and get to know him better. Just maybe, if Fate was a kind soul for once.

To be continued... (maybe?)

[sheepwithspecs]

March CarvRhos Ficlet: Almost Kiss

|| FFXIV || Rated T ||(1/??)

Prompts Found Here!

The first of (hopefully) many CarvRhos ficlets! I hope to release as many as I can during the month of March. Each will be under 1000 words, and I’ll post them to Ao3 when the month is over. Enjoy!

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His voice is rough, with an edge she’s never heard before… from him, at least. He laughed low in his throat, the sound settling deep in the cradle of her thighs. “What exactly do you think this is?”

“I… I don’t—” She can’t look him in the eye, too afraid of being trapped somewhere between her rationality and the subtle way his lips are parted, a clear invitation if there ever was. It’s easier to focus on his chest, lean muscle disappearing between the folds of his shirt. Her mouth watered at the thought of leaning forward and tasting him there, one finger tugging at the neatly laced front until she could kiss the salt from his skin. The breath caught in her lungs as she imagined it, fighting to break free lest she suffocate where she stood.

“Come now, my dear.” The smooth plaster of the wall met her spine, one hand bracing her hip as he loomed ever closer. “We both know you could stop this, if that’s what you truly wanted.” His hand rose to trace her ribcage, never straying too far and yet mere ilms from cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her blouse. The desperate need to arch into his touch practically burned in her veins, and yet she would rather die than give him the satisfaction of a genuine response. She fought to remain perfectly still, hands clenched into fists behind her back.

“S-Shut up.”

“Am I wrong? Call for reinforcements,” he practically whispered, leaning down until they were eye to eye. “Struggle against me, or—better yet—draw your weapon.” The holster seemed to burn at hole at her hip. “Nothing is stopping you from fighting back. Or could this perhaps be something you secretly desire?” Pale blue eyes swept from nose to chin to collarbone, teasing her silently as they mapped the fierce blush setting her skin alight.

“Who’s talking o’ desires!? I ain’t the one wastin’ time by—by—” Her insult sputtered into silence as rough knuckles caressed her cheekbone, trailing down to cup her jaw with a leather-clad palm. She shivered despite herself, worrying her lower lip between her teeth before trying to nudge him aside with an unruly jerk of her shoulder. “Y-Ye must have a death wish,” she scoffed… or tried to, in any case.

To her immense embarrassment, her voice quivered with the timid mewl of a maiden in the first blush of youth. Her, a woman grown! A merciless corsair! Reduced to this, and by what? A tight-laced, swiving whoreson of a fop with more baubles than brains! Could ye be any more pathetic?!

“Look at me.” Unwilling to concede any further, she purposefully averted her eyes with a scowl. “Damnit, Rhoswen—” For all his mockery, his tone could have easily been mistaken as pleading. “For once in your life, can you not be so godsdamned stubborn?” The calloused pad of his thumb tugged at her skin, tracing the outermost edge of the white tattoo at her brow. She lifted her hand, fully intending to push him away, but ended up grasping his wrist in a sort of halfhearted stalemate.

“Look at me,” he insisted, and she found herself obeying without thought. His eyes fell to her lips, lingering there a moment before rising to meet her wary gaze. Gods, she swore, heart pounding in her ears, the bastard’s going to kiss me. Carvallain, known hater of the unrefined, the unpolished, the imperfect, was about to kiss her.

And worse, she was about to let him.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, rooted in place like one of the broken pillars littering the cliffside ruins of Nym. Fingers tipped her chin higher and she quailed inwardly, torn between thoughts of escape and surrender. There’s no going back from this—

Warm breath tickled her skin—not on her cheeks, as she expected, but on the exposed column of her throat. She froze, lips parting in silent query, only to gasp aloud as his teeth found the sensitive skin above her jugular. He bit down gently, just enough to worry the skin without bruising, and she couldn’t help but melt against the wall with a smothered sigh of pleasure. His answering smile was triumphant, victorious in the face of a hard won battle.

“Delicious,” he purred, nibbling his way up to her ear. “I wonder if you’d taste even sweeter elsewhere.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

[l1teraryangel]

In Another Life (Ch. 7)

Ryou’s eyes shot open, a shuddering gasp accompanying the action, and clutched at his heart through the thin shirt he wore. Beneath his ribs and breastbone, the organ pumped, earnest and steadfast, mildly accelerated. Deep breaths calmed the excitement coursing through him, and he carefully swung his legs over the bed he found himself upon.

Immediately, he studied his location, and frustration repressed any remaining cheer. From what he could see, he was sitting in an RV-type trailer on a rather lumpy couch. A tinge of pain in his lower back told him he wasn’t imagining the lumps, either.

Across from him stood the door he’d seen in the nothing: unappealing matte gray, dented, bumpy, and daring to exist contently regardless of his struggles. He grumbled and rubbed his face. “Dear Gods, why are you doing this to me? I want to go home. I’ve been through enough, haven’t I? I…”

‘I killed a man.’

His mental finish shook him. Why couldn’t it be a bad dream, a false memory? Why could he still feel the blood on his skin? Just like before, just like with—

‘No, no, no! Do not lose focus! Figure out where you are, if there’s danger, and find a way to contact Bakura and Touzoku-Ou!’

Set with his instructions, Ryou popped up off the couch and, with a glance around the small space telling him he was alone, went for the exit. He twisted the knob and creaked it open to see, honestly, the last thing he expected: a circus.

Different tents and stands, a petting zoo, and in the center of it all towered a glorious big top. The fabric gleamed metallic gold and voidlike black — an unusual color scheme for a happy-go-lucky circus, Ryou thought, but he liked it all the same. In fact, on second glance, all of the tents used the same color scheme. It made sense for cohesiveness, but Ryou wondered if the circus was not actually intended for children. Didn’t kid-friendly circuses use bright, pastel colors or uber saturated ones at least?

‘But there is a petting zoo, so it must be for kids!’

While his realistic side told him to find someone who could provide information, the part of his brain craving something comforting and joyful drove him to the fence where he hopes to find some adorable goats or piglets or something fluffy.

Yet, when he reached the fence and peeked inside, he saw nothing of the sort. And what he did see irregulated his heartbeat.

Pale as his hair and glowing in the sunlight, an enormous snake basked on a flat rock. Enormous failed to encapsulate the size of the thing, actually. Ryou gulped as he considered how, given the opportunity, the snake could likely devour him. The thickest part of its body had to measure as wide as his shoulders, and from head to tail, it certainly must be nine meters long or more.

Its lidless eyes stared at him, but he wasn’t sure whether it was truly watching or asleep. His answer came from it suddenly shifting its head in his direction. Slowly, the muscles of its body began working in unison to propel it towards the fence. Ryou’s heart hammered in his chest, his feet glued to the ground, as it poked its massive head — bigger than his entire hand or even his foot — over the fence and flicked its tongue at him.

When the beast bumped its head on his sternum, Ryou realized, too late, exactly how close it crept. It repeated the action, like a cat begging for attention, and he ran a shaky hand down its skull and upper spine, praying snakes couldn’t sense fear. 

He always heard people, regardless of their stance on snakes, talk about how the animals lived simple lives with little to no intelligence. But the eyes he gazed into now, the way it tilted its head at him, he doubted such a thing held true for this specimen. There lived a shrewd mind behind its silver eyes. 

“Oh, Ryou, you’re up!”

His heart flipped at the voice. Silently pleading for a positive change from his prior experience, Ryou peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, Touzoku-Ou stood there, beautiful and shirtless, beads of sweat glistening like morning dew on his skin.

“Playing with Diabound? She being a good girl?” He ambled up to the fence and fearlessly stroked the snake’s head. The snake flicked its — her tongue out at him and nuzzled her nose into his wrist. 

He grinned and answered his own question. “Of course she is. I’m not convinced she still views me as her master. Always gives me trouble, but when you’re around, she’s an angel. I think she likes you more.”

His eyes — solid gray, Ryou noted, taken aback by the utter lack of blue or purple — flickered upwards to his. An enamored smile curled the ashen-haired man’s plump lips and curved the scar zagging down his right cheek. Ryou’s mouth dried up right then while staring at the gorgeous man before him.

“Are you feeling better? Still have a headache?”

Pulled back to Earth, Ryou replied, “Um, no, the headache is gone.” And he cursed the tremble in his voice, though not as much as he cursed the trouble he had keeping his eyes upwards.

‘Why is he not wearing a shirt. Why is he not wearing a shirt. Why is he not —’

“You sure you feel better? You’re a little flushed.”

The hand caressing his cheek shattered the resolve. His eyes dropped down, drinking in the pectoral muscles and carved abs. A lump formed in his throat when this new Touzoku-Ou chuckled.

“Oh, I get it. Like what you see?”

“Why are you not wearing a shirt?”

‘That wasn’t what I meant to say. Well… fuck it.’ Ryou mentally shrugged, although embarrassment hung over his head. Blood rushed and stained his cheeks crimson when Touzoku-Ou laughed again. 

The man leaned forward and kissed Ryou, not a drop of hesitation to slow him down. “Maybe I was hoping you and Bakura would enjoy the show.”

Blinking away his dirtier thoughts, Ryou managed to squeak out, “W-Where is Bakura?”

“Hm, think he’s setting up the tomb maze with Kek. And by that, I mean they are arguing so loud I can hear them outside of the damn thing.” He waved the image off, amused but more interested in pushing his and Ryou’s bodies together on Diabound’s fence. Ryou recalled how the last Touzoku-Ou boxed him in before, but at least this one seemed to be doing so out of endearment and mutual lust.

Satisfied with their new positioning, the man continued, “Boss wants everything ready for tomorrow night. Don’t worry.” He winked and snuck a kiss. “I already told him he’s a jackass for not giving us the day off.”

“Mmhm…”

Despite his best efforts, Ryou struggled to remember what information he meant to ask for or what else he needed to do. Touzoku-Ou’s body combined with a familiar level of warmth and affection shut out all other thoughts.

Touzoku-Ou’s grin morphed into a cocky smirk. “Ry, you should lay back down. You’re obviously still struggling, and I think you might be catching a fever.” His fingers hooked into Ryou’s pants and boxers, brushing unabashedly along Ryou’s bare hip bone. “I do hate to see you so out of it, beautiful. Maybe you need some TLC to clear your head?”

“I, uh,” Ryou mumbled, subconsciously flattening his palm on the thirst-inducing body before him. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from whatever you were working on…”

Thoughts bounced around his head, taunting him. A clearer thought shoved them all back and danced beneath a spotlight, front and center. ‘Is this cheating? I can’t… I can’t risk doing something that might hurt my Bakura and Touzoku-Ou.’

“My beloved, most precious gem,” Touzoku-Ou purred, lips teasing Ryou’s jawline. “Nothing in this god-forsaken circus is worth more of my attention than you.”

A quiet hiss paused the spell cast by their increasing arousal. Shoulders shaking with laughter, Touzoku-Ou pushed away the snout poking through the gap between Ryou’s arm and ribs.

“Sorry, girl, but I told you Ryou was my new number one. You’re number two, right over Bakura, if that makes you feel any better?”

Diabound offered a snort-like hiss in response, drawing an honest-to-goodness giggle from Ryou. Two muscular arms hugged his waist, and he couldn’t resist shifting away the bangs hiding a perfectly smoochable forehead. Pecking his target tenderly, Ryou ducked under the arms holding him in place and pressed his lips to the other’s ear.

“We should get back to work.”

A defeated sigh slipped from Touzoku-Ou’s lips. “Always a hard worker, huh, Ry? Here I was thinking my seduction was working so well.”

“It was,” Ryou assured him and pecked him again, this time on his defined cheekbone. “But I’d feel guilty if everyone but us was working.”

His lover’s lookalike scoffed and planted his cheek on Ryou’s shoulder, puppy dog eyes turned to one hundred, while teasingly circling his fingertips under the pale boy’s ticklish ribcage. Ryou gasped, worming away from the attack, but Touzoku-Ou followed after, an evil grin replacing his pitiful expression.

“What’s wrong, Ry? Why are you running?”

“I’m not running.” Even as he spoke, Ryou dodged an outreached hand inching towards his midsection. “S-Stop that.”

“You gonna make me? You’re not so mean that you’d spoil my fun two times in a row.”

Another dodge scrupulously executed, Ryou darted several feet behind Touzoku-Ou, brown eyes locked on his approaching silhouette. The man stalked forward, meticulous in every step, his lips fixed in that adorable, taunting smile.

“You are running, then?”

Ryou pouted his lips, but his eyes sparkled. “You’re not leaving me much choice.”

“That’s true. I’m such a bastard.” He winked, and Ryou’s heart somersaulted, desire tempting him to fall back into the man’s arms. “If you’re gonna run, better start now. I’ll give you… Five seconds headstart.”

Opening his mouth to protest, Ryou stopped himself as Touzoku-Ou raised his hand, pointer finger extended. Rather than test both Touzoku-Ou’s sincerity and his own ability to resist further seduction, Ryou took off between the circus attractions.

‘This is… fun. It feels right. Like I’m back home with my boys.’ Ryou serpentined his way around the tents, breaking line of sight with Touzoku-Ou before nestling behind a stack of what he assumed to be unpacked merchandise. His timing lined up since Touzoku-Ou’s boisterous laugh sounded maybe ten feet away.

“Ryou~” He called, and Ryou slapped a hand over his nose and mouth. “You can run and hide all you want, but I’ll find you, beautiful. And I will tickle you into submission.”

Biting back a laugh at the dramatic announcement, Ryou peeked around the crates, a mischievous smile crinkling his eyes. This was so much better than fighting for his life, than playing some stupid murder game.

‘...Shit. I gotta stop thinking about that realm,’ He scolded himself. ‘Don’t start crying, it’ll just confuse the local Touzoku-Ou and Bakura. You did what you had to, so push it from your mind.’

Easier said than done, he knew, but he tried his best. So lost in thought, Ryou failed to notice another body sneaking into his hiding place until said person snuggled into his side and placed an audible smooch on his cheek. While he nearly jumped out of his skin, Ryou deftly identified the familiar face of his lookalike.

“Bakura! You scared me!”

Chuckling, Bakura bumped their shoulders together. “So, handsome, who’s fucking with who? Need me to beat up a certain meathead?”

“No, uh, that’s not… Touzoku-Ou was tickling me,” Ryou explained, and Bakura snorted, nonplussed. “And I guess we’re kinda playing hide-and-go-seek right now. Or tag, but I’m not gonna try and outrun him.”

“As smart as you are beautiful,” Bakura praised and swept a salacious hand down Ryou’s thigh, a devious glint in his eyes as said man’s breath caught. “Mm, you know what else hiding spots are good for, Ry?”

Promptly averting his gaze, Ryou changed the subject, shivers tickling down his spine. “Weren’t you helping Kek with something?”

A nip at his lobe — gentle and quick, like it should be — heated his face. “What’s wrong, babe? Is this what you were doing to Touzoku-Ou? That why he’s chasing after you? I might have to team up with him if you’re goin’ to be so cold.”

Gulping and scooting an inch farther into the crates, Ryou replied, “I’m not… I mean… I think he just felt like tickling me?”

Bakura’s lips pulled into a frown. “Are you okay? You’re not acting like yourself.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you mad about something? If one of us upset you…”

“N-No!” His hands shot out to cup Bakura’s face, taking the other by surprise. “You two are wonderful! Please don’t think I’m angry or anything!”

Hand pressed against the back of Ryou’s, Bakura’s silver lashes curtained his carmine eyes, and a jolt of electricity surged down Ryou’s spine. An amorous kiss caressed his wrist, yet their eyes never parted. Without hurry, Bakura’s tongue dragged along the blue veins webbing Ryou’s skin, moving languidly towards the tips of his slender fingers.

“B-Bakura, I…”

‘I shouldn’t. It isn’t right, even if they’re similar. They aren’t the same… They’re not, but Ra…’

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I… I don’t, no.”

“Should we get Touzoku-Ou?”

“...Yes, please.”

 ***

 A new morning dawned, leaving Ryou puzzling over how long he would remain in this world. He didn’t mind the comfortable, animosity-free realm. If there were a choice, he might prefer to stay. But he missed the Malik and Yugi he knew, and guilt wilted his mirth the more he thought about how they must be suffering currently.

Shaking the images of their pain away, Ryou left the guest room he shared with no one, not bothering to close the door behind him or throw on fresh clothes. His mind trickled over to the two men kept in his other self’s room, guarded only by Yugi and, now, Atem. He heard the fight break out, recognized the sounds of a one-sided pummeling. Kek and Malik had rushed out of the room, knuckles bloody and expressions a mix of anger and sadness. Ryou puzzled on what they said to leave the two blondes such a mess.

Despite his loathing for the serial killers, Ryou felt responsible for them since they were, after all, from his world. The chaos they created here disrupted what seemed to be such an otherwise enjoyable realm, thus it sickened him to see it ruined by his personal villains. He wanted to sneak it while they slept and slice their throats from ear to ear. He wanted to see the shock and horror on their faces as life drained from their eyes.

And every time that image poked his mind, every time it filled him with a smidgeon of glee, he cursed them for turning him into a monster.

When he entered the room, Yugi and Atem laid curled up on a couch together. Though he knew this Atem revered Yugi, it still boggled his mind to see them so comfortable, so in love. His eyes lingered on their slumbering forms, a longing tugging at his heartstrings when his mind involuntarily wondered if, given the chance, he could ever find a love like that for himself. 

Yugi and Malik in his world were his friends, true, but sometimes he thought of them as more. Maybe they could be, once the rats plaguing their lives were exterminated. Who else could understand the pain they each had been through if not one another? 

Once, after the trial, Yugi broached the subject of going on a date with some girl. The three of them were so broken and inexperienced with true relationships, however, so they ended up laughing the idea off. Besides, if the bastards broke out of prison like they promised, anyone they dated would be a target. Better to be lonely aside from their platonic love for each other than to sign someone’s death certificate.

“Something on your mind, Ryou-bunny?”

His blood boiled, a grimace snatching away his dreamy expression. “Don’t fucking call me that, Bakura.”

“Oh? I thought you loved your nickname, rabbit.” Bakura leered from within the protective circle.

Beside him, also wide-awake, Touzoku-Ou snorted. “He thinks he’s too good for our shows of affection now that he has those pussy lookalikes. Hate to break it to you, little mouse, but you’re nothing but a lame substitute for their pet. The second he’s back, you’re getting sent home with us.”

Bakura’s tone shifted, aggression chilling his words. “Maybe you should start begging for forgiveness now.”

Ryou chuckled and trailed his gaze from the sleeping lovebirds to the bastards sealed behind a barrier. He smirked at them through their invisible cage. “You’re seriously threatening me looking like that? And here I thought you two were tough, but you got the absolute shit kicked out of you.” Their scowls incentivized him to dig further. “For what it’s worth, the black eyes and bruises suit you.”

“Talk your big game while you can, little mouse,” Touzoku-Ou returned coolly. “We’ll see how confident you are once it’s just the three of us.”

“You think you’ll survive that long? From what I heard last night, seems like you're trying to dig your graves here.”

Leaping to his feet, Bakura pushed into the barrier as far as he could. Sparks of magic flew around him, warning of his proximity, but he ignored them in favor of fixing Ryou with a vehement glare.

He bared his teeth as threats and insults poured from his mouth. “You’re nothing without these bastards and their magic tricks, so wipe that fucking look off your face. When I get my hands on you—”

“You’ll what? Kill me? Torture me? Maybe cut off some limbs?” Ryou turned his back, interest in the conversation evaporating. “I’ve heard it before. Get some new material.”

He felt the eyes on him, the heat and hatred with which they stared, so it alarmed him when Touzoku-Ou and Bakura began laughing. As much as he wanted to ignore them, he couldn’t help glimpsing over his shoulder. They smirked, deranged and wicked, right at him, unsurprised by his reaction.

“Little mouse~” Touzoku-Ou crooned, soft and deep. “This confidence, this… ego? You wear it well, but really, be honest. It’s a mask. You’re terrified of being sent home with us, having to face us on your own. Wouldn’t it be smarter to get back in our good graces now? Before you're stranded with no protection, no other us to fawn over you.”

Bristling, Ryou spun around and marched towards the barrier, unwavering in his confidence. “Shut up. Don’t call them that. They aren’t you. I don’t care what they look like. You couldn’t be more different. You’re monsters. They’re not.”

A new voice, identical to one of the killers he faced, joined in the conversation with a chuckle. “I don’t know if I would go that far. I’ve done some pretty monstrous things.”

Ryou swung his head, flushed at the sight of this realm’s Bakura in the doorway. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Ha, yeah, that’s what happens when you’re the King of Thieves. Or part of him, I guess.” Leisurely strolling over the couch where Atem and Yugi slept, Bakura reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of cheap-looking plastic.

Dumbstruck, Ryou questioned, “Is that… a safety alarm?”

“Yup.” 

Offering no other explanation, Bakura stabbed his thumb into the button and unleashed a shrill scream. Ryou winced, and the other Bakura and Touzoku-Ou squinted disapprovingly.

On the couch, Atem and Yugi instantly returned to the world of the living, the latter being thrown to the floor by the flailing body beneath him. Bakura switched off the alarm, a self-satisfied smirk in place.

“What the hell, Bakura?!” Yugi exclaimed while floundering to his feet.

“Rise and shine, Pharaoh and Pharaoh Lite. Get the fuck out of here with that cuddling bullshit.”

Atem groaned, slinging his head back over the arm of the coach. “You are so childish. Just because you aren’t having a good morning…”

“Hey, if I’m gonna be miserable, everyone’s gonna be miserable.” Bakura poked at his ear, rubbing the inside with his pinky. “But for real. Your shift is over, and I don’t want you in here with me. Fuck off.”

The two men gathered themselves, still shooting hateful looks at Bakura, but they complied with his less-than-friendly request. Yugi waved briefly at Ryou, mouthing a morning greeting, before following behind Atem.

Ryou giggled in spite of the unpleasant sound which now echoed in his ears. “That’s one way to wake people up, I guess.”

“They’re just lucky I didn’t have an airhorn,” Bakura replied, shrugging without care, though he definitely seemed chipper. “Of all the things I’ve tried to pull on Mr. King, a rude awakening is the least offensive.” He glanced over his shoulder at the doorway. “Where the fuck is Touzoku-Ou? He said he was getting up.”

“You didn’t use the alarm on him?”

“Believe me, it’s tempting. But I’d rather not look like the sorry bastard over there.” His gesture towards his alternate self got him a warning growl. “What even happened? I thought the point of sending me and TK out was to prevent these two being beaten half to death?”

Again, Ryou giggled, dark delight firing up his eyes. “You’d have to ask Kek and Malik.”

“Ah. Say no more. Vicious vipers, those two.”

“My Malik isn’t vicious.”

Plopping down on the couch, Bakura chortled. “That’s weird to think about. This Malik has always been a spitfire. I mean, he did kill his own father.”

Caught off-guard, Ryou blinked dumbly. “What.”

“Oh, forgot we glossed over that detail. It’s a long story. We’re all complicated here.”

Abandoning his fellow other-realmers, Ryou seated himself comfortably beside Bakura. “Well, why don’t you fill me in on some of it while we wait for Touzoku-Ou?”

Like earlier, he felt the glares burning into the side of his head. Unlike earlier, he ignored them in favor of the Bakura who smiled at him, a friendly and playful shine reflected in his eyes.

“If you’re really up for it, I’ll tell you. Might give you nightmares, though, kid.”

“We’ll see about that, hot shot. Give me your worst.”

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

AO3 Link: In Another Life - Chapter 9 - LiteraryAngel - Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

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[bennedeto]

It’s Him—In Us

Think about it: God made you. God put you here, at this specific time in history. God has a plan and purpose for your life.

Not only that, but He gave you a brain that thinks, a heart that beats, and lungs that breathe. He gave you talents and abilities, hopes and desires. He gave you ears and eyes, muscles and ligaments. And He positioned you on this planet that happens to be in the ideal position in our solar system for life to thrive.

You are a part of God's plan.

A mysteriously beautiful part of God’s plan is that He chooses to work through His people…

“For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭2‬:‭13‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Everything starts with God and comes from God. But we get to choose if we’ll listen to His Spirit and follow where He leads, or ignore Him. We get to decide if we’ll submit to His nudges and act on His promptings, or try to do it on our own.

It’s all God, but it’s also Him working in and through His people—just as He intended.

For those of us who belong to Christ, we are filled with His Spirit. We’re no longer slaves to sin or to this world. We’re no longer incapable of following God. Instead, He gives us new dreams and desires, thoughts and power, and a heart of compassion instead of selfishness. 

So if an idea pops into your mind about blessing or encouraging someone else, don’t dismiss it. If you suddenly have a burning desire to share His message, to serve others, to give generously, or to shine His love, pay attention.

It’s likely the Spirit of God, giving you the desire and power to do what pleases Him.