#so basically it may be slow going but this isn't the end

[bittybeanie]

oh boy! time to post a new fic! I can't believe it's been *checks calendar* ....oh. uh. oops. ignore that! it's the fourth and final installment of (this) aspec reigen series, complete with a lite™ version of a couple different kinks and finally getting to touch the peen! this one's real long, folks, clocking in at about 9,500 words, so you might wanna get a nice beverage and settle in.

content notes: thigh riding, themes of consent, drunk almost sex, a discussion about the drunk almost sex in the following scene, praise kink, a very loose (literally) definition of bondage, and so so many pet names. minors please don't interact!

also on ao3!

It takes more than a couple tries for you to get settled on the bed. You’re too close, then too far, and Reigen can’t get comfy, and your hand keeps sliding out from under you, and he can’t decide how he wants your leg angled, and there’s too many clothes, then all at once so few clothes that it feels like too much at once and you hastily agree to put your shirts back on, not wanting to break the already fragile layer of quiet hope.

Finally, finally, everything is perfect.

Awkward, stilted, and a little tense, and you’re not sure how long your leg will let you keep it just barely raised like this before it cramps up, but he’s here, embarrassed but steadfast, breath coming out in shivery gasps, hovering over your thigh, one hair fisted in the back of your hair. If he tips over, there’s no way you’re not going with.

Perfect.

His thighs shake as he holds himself up, deciding which direction he wants to move. You reach for the small of his back to steady him. "Does this count as keeping my hands out of the way?" He nods, so you test the waters by sliding your other hand up his thigh.

"As long you don’t- just no direct touching. Close to is fine, just not… well." He moves a hand back and forth across where he’s hovering over your thigh.

“Keep off the goods. Gotcha."

"The goods? Awful. You're awful, I swear."

You slide your hand up, just barely skimming your fingernails over his hip when you catch the hem of his shirt, and his cock twitches in his boxers.

"The goods don't seem to agree."

"Oi." Despite his protests, the laughter loosens him, and he relaxes enough to lean back into your knee. “Fine, fine, just stop saying goods.”

“Alright.” He raises an eyebrow. You lift both hands in surrender. “I promise! I will never again use ‘the goods’ to refer to your perfect, gorgeous, suckable-”

“I get it! I get it.” He grabs onto your shoulder - maybe in an effort to distract you, or maybe just to keep his balance - as he shifts closer. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears. “Here, actually, can you-? Hm.” He presses a hand against the inside of your other leg, thumb digging in as he gives a shove. He slides a knee into the newly free space between your legs, leaning forward to get a better angle. Your hands settle back on his waist.

“Better?”

“Much.” He lets out a little hum as he pushes his hips forward, and you have to stamp down a whimper at the feeling, his dick heavy and warm even through fabric.

“Didn’t mean to just push like that, though. Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’ll survive a little manhandling, as a treat.” You hit the last “t” sound with a click of your tongue, and he falls into your neck with a laugh. You trace patterns on his hips as he moves, tracking the motion as you press your fingers into his skin. “God, how do you get your hips to move that smooth? It’s sorta mesmerizing.”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know, I’m just- I wasn’t thinking about it. S’just what f- ha, feels good.” His breath fans out across your collarbone, warm and fast.

“Yeah? You like using my thigh, baby? No thoughts other than what feels good? Your own personal toy to get yourself off against?”

“Oi.” His hips stutter once before he falls back into a slower rhythm. His fingers dig into your shoulder as he pulls you closer.

“Too much?”

“That’s not how I think of you.”

You can’t help but laugh, a light chuckle coming out in a breath against his hair. “I know, ‘Taka, I know.” You slide your hands under his shirt, over his stomach and up to his collarbone. “But would it really be so bad to belong to you?”

“I- fuck.” There’s a moment of worry when he shoves you away, but then he’s scrambling for the hem of his shirt and pulling.

“Are you sure?” It’s a formality, uttered even as you’re already reaching to help slide the fabric over his elbows, but it’s one you can’t even imagine going without.

“Very.” He lifts himself off of you to push his boxers down, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he shimmies them all the way off. The mattress shifts and pitches him over, and you hurry to grab his arm.

He crawls back over to straddle your thigh, the tip of his cock tapping lightly against your side before he leans back onto his ankles.

“Do I need to get-?” You chuck his shirt into infinity and gesture vaguely to the bedside drawer. He’s technically never told you that he started keeping lube in there, but he hasn’t made much effort to keep the secret either.

He shakes his head. “I’m close. Won’t matter.”

He tries to go back to rutting against you, anchoring his hands on your waist to tilt his hips this way and that, but something about the new angle is off, and he can’t get any good contact.

“Oh no, now horrible, your dick is just so hard it won’t stay down on its own.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he scoots to sit closer, flush making its way from his ears to the edges of his cheeks.

“That gorgeous curve probably isn’t helping, either. In this case, anyway. Be an absolute treat to have inside me, though.” You press your thumbs in just above his knees, encouraging him to spread his legs more, and he jumps with a squeak, hands flying to grab yours. “Sorry, sorry, di-”

“No, it’s-” He pulls your hands together, just in front of his stomach, and the tip of his cock brushes against you. For a moment, you think he’s going to pull down, but he guides your hands back to his hips, pressing them into his skin as he rolls his hips. “Here.”

He gives up and puts his hand flat over his dick, pinning it down against your leg. He lifts himself to adjust the angle, just his tip dragging along your skin until he bumps into your hip, precum rolling out in a thin line over your thigh. When he pulls back, he grinds down insistently, coating his length and covering what isn’t already marked of your thigh so he can slide more easily. After a few impatient jolts of his hips, he settles back into a rhythm, smooth and fluid, and lets up on the pressure of his hand. He slings his other arm over your shoulder to pull you closer, and he falls forward to bury his face in your neck, whining into your collarbone.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was close, because it only takes a few drags of his cock against you for him to seize up, body tensing before going boneless, cum rolling over his hand and onto your hip as he slumps against you in a mess of pants and sighs. You slide your hands up his back to support his full weight, pressing kisses to his hair as he catches his breath.

“Just… gimme a second, I can cl- get you- god, my legs.” He rolls off of you with none of his usual grace, limbs falling everywhere at once, lightly smacking your arm as he goes limp.

You laugh and push his hair back from his face. You don’t bother to untangle your legs from his, accepting your fate of needing a shower later in exchange for getting to lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Eh, let it dry.”

“I’m starting to think you like it more than tolerate it.”

“If you haven’t gotten the hint by now that I want you to absolutely cov-”

He gives you a shove, rolling his hand so there’s no real force behind it, but you seize the chance to topple with a dramatic moan, one hand falling theatrically across your forehead as your eyes flutter closed. 

“Oh, stop it.” He crawls over and props himself up on his elbows. You can feel his breath fanning over your collarbone, stilted like he’s trying not to laugh. You crack one eye open, breaking into giggles when you see his forced serious expression, eyebrows pinched together and one cheek sucked into his mouth to keep the smile off his face. He breaks at your laughter, breathing out through his nose and pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Oh, you could take me anywhere, handsome.” You waggle your eyebrows suggestively, and he rolls onto his back with an exasperated groan. You laugh again and sit up, pulling a blanket over him so you can settle in without accidentally brushing somewhere he’d rather you didn’t.

“Hey, Arataka?”

“I love you, too.”

“That, too.” You chuckle. “But I have a real question this time.”

“Oh.” He turns his head. “Sure.”

“After you… when you took my hands earlier, were you…?” The fleeting moment of contact between him and your hands floats through your mind. You can’t help but wonder what he was thinking in the moment he hesitated, but it feels weirdly invasive to ask so bluntly. “Sorry, never mind, this is a weird line of thought.”

You lay down beside him, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together as his thumb smooths up your wrist.

“Do you mean…” He takes a steadying breath, grip tightening almost imperceptibly. “Do you mean after the clothes came off?”

You nod. For a moment, he stills, not even breathing.

“I was… I wanted so badly to let you touch me. I thought if I didn’t have to say it, if I could just… imply, then I could get around it, but,” he sighs heavily, and he sounds tired when he continues, “I panicked.”

You’re both quiet, long enough that you startle even yourself when you finally break the silence.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“...Panicking?”

“No, angel. Implying.” He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “Maybe you just have to imply for a little longer.”

“I’m not following.”

“What if you left your hand on top of mine? That way it’s like- it’s the same as when you do it, but it sort of, hm, bridges the gap? All the sexy, none of the surprise.”

For a long moment, you’re not sure if he’s quiet because he’s thinking or because he’s falling asleep.

He hums, shoulder rolling under your head, and he pulls you tighter against his side.

+

"Okay." You shift nervously, tucking your foot underneath yourself, then deciding against it and unfolding your legs. "Walk me through the zones again."

"I'm not a city planning map." He rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand. You’re not sure which one of you the gesture is supposed to comfort.

You shift back onto your knees.

"Here up, anything goes." He points at the middle of his chest. "But try to stay- so more like, well, from maybe..." He gestures to his collarbone and wags his finger up and down. "Here to here, really."

When he looks back at you, you can tell he's waiting for something. You settle for a small nod.

"Right. A-and then, here to here," he points from his chest to just above his hip, "Hands are fine. Doing... whatever." He steadies himself with another deep breath and rushes through the rest. "Legs, stay still, and anything... direct we'll do the- on the- yeah, got it, that's all."

You let him sit for a moment to make sure there's nothing he forgot. His grip on your hand tightens, and you swear he moves to pull you closer, but he must decide against it at the last second.

"Whose hand is going on top again? Sorry, we've swapped it so many times I can't remember if we decided."

"Oh. Right. Um." He hovers his right hand over his left, then swaps them, then swaps them again. “Yours under mine.”

“Got it.” You reach for him, letting him pull your hand up to his collar. "And you know you can tell me to stop at any time?"

"You tell me that every time."

"It's important every time."

He swallows thickly and traces a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Yeah. I know."

You shift to pull your legs off to the side, then cross them again, then sit back up on your knees. Gently taking the collar of his shirt in your hands, you trail one thumb along the edge of the fabric until you reach the top button. "And can I do this, or would you like to?"

He nods before realizing there were two options in your question, then points at you, then at your hands, then flashes you a thumbs up. "Yeah. Go ahead."

"Well, now hold on, I have manners. I'm not going straight for the goods." He laughs and shimmies to sit up straighter, letting his legs straighten out in front of him. "How about the pants later?"

"Uh, right, that's, I didn't think about that. I mean it would make sense that you're going to be- I mean it's not like-"

"Arataka."

"Yeah." He swallows.

"I'm not going to be offended if you’d like to take off your own pants."

He pauses, staring down at his knee. Eventually, he shakes his head. "I want you to do it."

"And your-?"

"Just do it at the same time."

"Got it." You take a steadying breath of your own. "I won't stay there, but is it okay if I straddle you for a little bit? I wa-"

His hands are pulling at your waist before you can get your legs properly unfolded, and you almost tumble over him. He laughs an apology as you move on top of him, hovering over his legs to avoid making any real contact.

You brush his bangs back from his face, following through with the motion until your fingers tangle in the shorter strands of hair at the back of his head. He tilts to follow your hand, craning his neck to keep you from pulling.

"Ready?"

He nods slightly.

"I’d like a verbal yes for this one, lovely."

He swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob.

"Yeah, yes.” He nods again. His hand jerks, taking yours with it, and he awkwardly lets your hand fall into his lap. You do your best not to move. “I trust you."

You drag your gaze back up to his face, searching for any last signs of reluctance. A bead of sweat trails down his temple, and you’re certain if you put your hand to his cheek you’d worry he had a fever. Sure enough, when you slide your fingers along his jaw, he’s hot to the touch, and the tips of his ears are turning brighter shades of red by the second.

He clears his throat, pushing his jaw into your palm. “Are you gonna-?”

“In a minute.” You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip. “I’m savoring.”

He scoffs at that, the same scoff he uses when he sees somebody do something stupid in public, and you take the opportunity to catch him by surprise, surging forward to push him down onto the bed. His hands go to your shoulders on instinct but he pulls them back almost immediately, hovering awkwardly in the space between you. Using your grip on his chin, you angle his head so you can lean down and kiss him without knocking your noses together.

Once you’re sure you can support yourself without falling on him, you allow your free hand to trail down, tracing down the muscles in his neck, across his collarbone and back, finally settling on the first button of his shirt. It takes a little effort to get it undone with just one hand, but you manage it, and you allow yourself to dip down as you settle into a rhythm, lips ghosting along Reigen’s skin as you uncover more of it.

He’s shivering, hand shaking where it hovers over yours on the last button of his shirt. When you slide your hand back up along his side, his hand falls back to the bed, pulling at a wrinkle in the sheets.

You kiss along his jaw, savoring the feeling every time his breath catches in his throat under your lips. Your hand trails down along his side, wrapping around him to hold his waist when he arches up into the press of your thumb. He hums, eyelids fluttering, and you dare to slide your hand down, ever so slightly, thumb brushing over his waistband and back onto bare skin.

He grabs for you, grasp tight around your wrist, almost painful before he slowly relaxes and drags your hand back up toward his chest. You push yourself off him, swinging your leg to kneel beside him.

“Here, let’s try this.” You guide him to sit up. Once he’s situated against the headboard, you settle in by his thigh, your knee pressing gently into his hip. One hand traces circles and patterns as you trail down to his stomach. “Still good?”

He hums, but he scrambles for your wrist again, holding on tighter and tighter the closer you get to the button on his pants.

“You’re allowed to change your mind, y’know. I can let you do it.”

“That’s not- mm.” He relaxes his death grip on your arm but keeps his thumb hooked around it. After a few tries to let go completely, his head tips forward into your shoulder. “I thought I would… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and slowly pull away. “Nothing to apologize for.” You cup his face with both hands and gently turn him, but he doesn’t hold your gaze for long. 

“Do you want to keep going? Should I…?”

He opens his mouth, but says nothing. His expression is pinched, tight with something you’re not sure how to label. His fingers press together, thumb and index, thumb and middle, thumb and ring, thumb and pinky, over and over as you lean back, nodding softly.

“Stay in bed?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You swear he flinches, and you clear your throat. “Or move to the couch and watch something?”

“Couch.” He nods once, stiff and harsh, and swallows thickly. “Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and slides out of bed, starting to button his shirt back up as he wanders into the other room.

You keep nodding as if in a trance, and you follow him out. 

+

Despite the now faint memory of some friend of a friend forcefully inviting you, there's not a single soul at the party you recognize. With the exception of a few people dancing by the kitchen, closer to the speakers, everyone has settled for taking a seat and awkwardly bobbing their head. You’ve repeated the same three lines of small talk more times than you can count, it's just cold enough that you've had the chills the whole time while still managing to feel overwhelmingly stifled, and the music is so awful you wonder how somebody hasn’t tried to change it yet. But there's alcohol, the good stuff that somebody is clearly very particular about, and lots of it. You can't remember how much you've had, and that fact is enough to tell you it was probably too much, but it doesn't stop you from taking whatever the host is passing out when they wander through.

You think Reigen might be the only person doing worse than you. He looks... woozy. His face is flushed and his eyes are lidded like he might throw up, pass out, or both at any moment. At one point he took a tumble when he tried to sit down, graciously ignored by everyone else, and you had to throw your arm around his waist to keep him from sliding down the front of the couch again. He's leaning on you for support every time he moves, and if there were anything left in his can you’re sure he would be spilling it on you right now.

He's restless at the best of times, you know this, but even through the fog you can tell something is off. Not wrong exactly, but he keeps giving you this sideways glance, digging his fingers into your thigh to steady himself and then yanking his hand away, knocking his head into your shoulder and muttering something you haven't been able to make out.

He laughs - way too loudly at something you're not sure was supposed to be funny - and stands abruptly. Your hand around his waist falls limp on the couch, and he sways without the support.

"I'm going to the re- the ba- I gotta piss."

Nobody but you pays him any attention. He takes a wobbly step forward, knocking his foot into the leg of the coffee table, but he doesn't seem fazed. His knees bend at a weird angle as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, then he straightens back up and whirls around to face you. The momentum sends him tumbling back down, and you manage to catch him before his nose smashes into your jaw.

"I guess you better help me there."

"Yeah." Your voice crackles from dehydration. You have to clear your throat and try again to get a recognizable sound to come out. "Alright." You do a quick mental scan of your legs to make sure they'll support you before you motion for him to get up so you can stand. He does, grabbing your wrist and pulling with the conviction of somebody who does not need help walking.

The gears in your head start to turn.

He drags you along, glancing over his shoulder as he rounds the corner into the hallway, only stumbling once when he has to screech to a halt and back up to yank a door open. He pushes you inside, pulling the door closed behind him after he follows you in.

It's pitch black, and you're not sure if the overwhelming lemon smell is coming from Reigen or something in the room. You reach out to find him, but your fingers brush against something cold and smooth instead, and it's not until it tilts and hits you in the head that you realize it's probably a handle for something. Reigen's hand whacks into your arm and he holds on tight, fingers digging into your shoulder as he pulls you forward.

"I don't think that was the right door."

"Hm? Oh, sure." You can feel the air beside you moving until eventually his other hand finds your face, one finger dragging across your cheek until it hits your nose. "No, I- yeah, I know."

"Then wh-"

He pushes, hard and sudden. You fight to keep your balance as you adjust to the weird backwards lean you find yourself in. Reigen hisses as he pulls his fingers out from between you and the wall.

"Dumb, that was so dumb. Sorry." He fumbles for your waist to guide you backwards, and you feel his hips press against you when he reaches past your head to lean on the wall.

Everything clicks together all at once.

Your hands fly to where his waist should be. Once you find him, you're not sure if you want to shove him away or pull him in closer.

"You're super drunk. I don't know if-"

"Tha's the point." The hand on your face slides around until his thumb catches your bottom lip. He sways, like talking about it has made him remember how much he's had to drink. When he leans against you, he's heavier than normal, like he can’t support his weight anymore. "Liquid courage."

"I’m drunk." 

"Mm. Shit." He pulls away, just barely, and he nods. "Do you mind?"

Your mouth drops open uselessly. All your thoughts feel like static, indecipherable noise screaming for you to do something, if only you could figure out what. He's squirming now, like it hurts to stay still. You realize he's whimpering at the same time you realize he's grinding his hips against your leg.

“M’fine.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands as he shuffles around. You take the chance to stand back up. When you finally bump into each other again, he wraps his arms around you and squeezes, his breathing coming out in pants against your chest.  He hooks one leg around yours, tapping his foot against your heel to bring your leg forward. You make a strangled humming sound when he grinds against your thigh.

"Hey, where's your hand?"

"My...?" You suddenly remember you have hands. You allow yourself a moment of silence for all the time you could have been holding onto him before you push one hand forward. It smacks into what you think is his stomach. "Sorry. Here."

"S'kay. Stay put." You keep your hand pressed against him as he leans backward. You're not sure when he stopped holding onto you, but one of his hands is suddenly over yours, and a loud zip cuts through the sound of you both breathing. He slides his hand down, dragging yours with it. Your fingers glide along his skin, smooth and soft, until you brush against a patch of hair.

A sobering panic cuts through you.

He must realize what he's doing at the same time you do, because you both freeze. His grip tightens. He guides your hand away from him slowly, stopping when he makes contact with your side.

"Stay... stay put."

He turns and scrambles for the door. Something falls beside you when he misses the doorknob, then you're squinting as light floods in from the hallway. You can make out the silhouette of him sprinting into the room diagonal from where you're standing, and then there's the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Your place is only two blocks away - no more than a ten minute walk.

You call a cab service.

+

It smells like coffee.

When you try to sit up, the room spins. You end up in a sort of half sit, half lean as you grab onto the side of the mattress, willing everything to stay still. You take stock of the things that are clear enough to look at, slowly making sense of what happened once you got home.

You're laying on top of the covers, still in your clothes from last night. One shoe is in the doorway, and the other is nowhere in sight, probably somewhere closer to the entrance. The coffee smell, growing more enticing by the second, is a good sign Reigen's in the kitchen.

You slide onto the floor beside your bed, not trusting yourself to stand up without falling just yet, to rummage for more comfortable clothes. Once you manage to get changed, you stand up slowly, and make your way to the kitchen.

Reigen must have grabbed a set of pajamas at some point last night, though you can't remember when. His back is turned to you; he's lazily stirring something on the stove. Two steaming cups of coffee sit on the counter beside him. Before you can decide whether you want to say something and risk startling him, he seems to sense you standing there, and he turns around with a weak smile.

"Hey."

"Morning?" It's both a greeting and a question, because you have no idea what time it is.

"Yeah." He lets out a breathy chuckle. "How, um, how you feeling?"

Your head is throbbing so bad your teeth hurt, your legs and back are sore, and you have a looming sense of guilt.

"I think I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine, really." He clicks off the fire and reaches for a bowl. "I told you, I felt basically back to normal after I- well, um, you know. Thanks again, by the way, for car- for carrying me."

You nod softly, feeling a little useless as he hands you what looks and smells like a very delicious soup.

"Reigen, I am so-" "I didn't mean-"

He reaches for a second bowl. "You first." When you start to shake your head, he rolls his wrist in a "go on" motion. "Please. I'm not actually sure how to say mine yet."

"Right." You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your spoon. Deep in thought, you miss Reigen slipping past you. He clears his throat and gestures to the seat across from him. You slide into the chair. Your spoon clanks against the bowl as you set it down. "I, um. Shit, I'm so sorry."

He seems surprised, a spoonful of soup halfway to his lips.

"What for?"

"Wh-" You blink. "Every... thing? I- I know sorry doesn't even cover it, but I-"

"Whoa, hey, okay." He shakes his hand in front of him. "Never mind, I'll go first, because I think you got the wrong idea and I'm not gonna let you apologize for anything that happened."

"But you trusted me, and I-"

"And I still do. That's- that was the whole- look, I-" He sighs. His spoon clanks as he sets it down, abandoned in favor of wringing his hands together. "I set you up."

"You-?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought- It was stupid, and I should have just told you what I was trying to do, I know , but I- I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, and I thought if I could speed up the process, then- I mean, there's only so many times you can put up with almost getting to- if I could- ugh, sorry, hang on."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You swear your headache is reacting sympathetically, because pain shoots between your temples, dull but persistent. He goes to retrieve the coffees from the kitchen, just cool enough to drink, and you down some as soon as he hands you a mug.

"You've been so patient, and I know you would never do anything I didn't want, but I... I keep overthinking it. And I thought it would be the perfect excuse to... to not have to think about it at all. I mean that's- that's just what people do at parties, right, and- I mean, it was... ugh." He sits back down, his posture unnaturally rigid. He chooses his next words carefully, pausing between words as if he’s testing out different sentences in his head. "I trusted you… to not take it further than I was comfortable with… more than I trusted myself to… not panic over nothing. So, I- I saw the chance and I..." He gestures weakly, hand falling back to the table with a soft thump.

"Liquid courage."

He takes a sip of his coffee and slumps forward, holding his chin with one hand.

"You... got drunk on purpose?"

"Not originally, but, uh."

You nod slowly. Your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven't actually eaten any of your soup. You take a reluctant spoonful, chewing slowly as you take everything in.

"When you froze up, it- I realized how little I had thought it through. I- it wasn't fair to you. You didn't do anything to- I never should have put you in that position in the first place."

"I... would have appreciated a warning, yeah."

"Sorry." He runs his hand through his hair and leaves it against the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted." Reigen relaxes into his chair. As he stretches his legs out, one of his feet bumps against your ankle, and you laugh softly. "I'm still sorry, too. I should have asked more questions. And I didn't... I think I noticed something was wrong but I didn’t realize it was that frustrating for you. Before, I mean. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something like that."

"It's exclusively a me problem, I promise. I thought something would have worked by now. I don't... I don't really know what’s getting in the way." He shakes his head, breathing out sharply through his nose.

“I mean, literally speaking, your hands.” You laugh and take another sip of your coffee. He tilts his head. “Because, you know, y-you always grab my hand before I-?” He stares, unblinking. “Sorry, too soon to joke, probably,” you mutter into your cup, taking another sip just to have something to do.

When he moves again, it’s with a jerky start, sitting up and leaning forward. “My hands.”

“Yeah, I-”

“No, my hands.” He throws his elbows onto the table. The bowls clatter and his coffee sloshes; his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. His wrists come together in front of you, palms up and fingers curled loosely, as he stares, silent, waiting for a glimpse of recognition to cross your face. It takes a moment, but when he finds it, he grins. “My hands.”

“If you want to stop-”

“Saying so has always been enough.”

You stand, leaning to match his eye level. You consider him, searching for hesitation, but you find none.

You take his hand, and you start pulling.

+

“This is… mine?” An old black tie lays across Reigen’s palms, the ends hanging loosely over his thighs.

“Yeah, you left it here. A while ago, I guess.” You shrug. “You never really liked it, though, plus you’re here all the time anyway, so I didn’t get around to giving it back, and it’s just been here ever since.”

As you slide the drawer closed, he catches a glimpse of an old t-shirt he left on his first night in your place, folded neatly in the back corner, under a small collection of his dress socks. 

There are signs of him everywhere, really, if he looks. His toothbrush in your bathroom, a blanket he bought you for your birthday draped over the back of the couch, his favorite sweater of yours hanging on the handle of the closet, never out of service long enough to make it in with the rest of your clothes.

He’s struck with the realization it’s not just in your things, your home, but in you, the way you gesture with an extra dramatic flourish that wasn’t there before, the unwavering, tight smile that settles on your face when you talk to clients, the softness in your voice when you welcome the kids into the office, quietly clearing a table for them to do homework on, the flashes of movement in the kitchen as you dash back and forth whenever you make recipes he taught you - favorites from when things were harder and uncertain and cooking was his escape, before even the hardest parts of his life were laced with joy.

He’s wearing off on you.

He’s known it for a while, but he’s never put it all together like this, never seen it all so neatly represented in a single black tie, satin and unassuming and full of possibility. You kick your abandoned shoe out of the way, pushing the door shut with a soft click that startles him just enough to draw his attention.

“Still okay?”

He wonders how you’ve worn off on him, which parts of him weren’t there before that he doesn’t notice, can’t notice.

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m ready.”

He smooths his thumb over the fabric, watching it wrinkle and crease where he applies pressure. It slides across his palms, dragging slowly as you wrap one end around your hand, until he’s left with empty air, hands outstretched between you.

He feels light.

You take his hands in yours, turning them in toward each other, and start to lay the tie across his wrists.

“Oh, wait!” You pull back right away, and he holds up one finger. “Not- we should take my shirt off first.”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” You laugh and settle back onto your knees. “Yes, okay, let’s- yeah.”

Reigen stops halfway up. The fabric stays bunched when he lets go, and he pulls your hands to the exposed patch of skin. He can feel the tie, still wrapped around your palm, pressing against his side, cold and smooth, and he swallows thickly. As you drag your hands up, it slides up with you, and a shiver wracks through him when you finally pull the shirt off his arms.

He cups your face, pulling you into a kiss, fingers coming to press at the back of your neck to keep you against him as he topples backward. You catch yourself on one hand, the end of the tie flipping to rest over his shoulder as you climb to straddle him. He’s insistent, both hands tangling in your hair, little sighs and puffs of breath against your mouth as he refuses to pull away for air.

You press a kiss to his cheek to soothe the loss when you lean back. He drapes his arms over your shoulders, locking his fingers together behind your head.

“We could stay like this? My hands are… close-ish together.”

“I can’t see behind me to tie it, but,” you pull his hands around your head, “I’m sure we can figure it out after that.”

He nods. You turn his hands back toward each other and his fingers curl, knuckles pressing together as he relaxes. You drape the tie around his wrists, trying a few different ways of looping it but not finding anything you’re satisfied with.

“Sorry. I just wanna make sure you can get out if you need.”

“It’s alright. I like the attention.”

You freeze, a wobbly grin taking shape as your face heats up.

“‘Taka, I’m supposed to be the composed one!”

“I’m just trying to be honest!” He flexes his wrists, pressing his knuckles together to crack them.

“Don’t worry,” you press both ends of the tie between his hands and motion for him to hold them still, “I like giving you attention.” You fold the middle of the tie over to make two loops and start twisting them in on themselves. “And I wanna hear about it as much as you can bear.”

“You seem plenty composed to me.” He pinches his thumb between two fingers and squeezes.

“Quick recovery. I learned from the best.” You wink and put your fingers through the loops. “Here, hands in here.”

He flattens his hands to squeeze them through, stopping to let you shimmy the tie the rest of the way over. You hold the ends of the tie and give a quick tug before tying them together.

“There, it’ll have to do.” You slip a finger in each loop, making sure there’s enough room to be comfortable without him being able to slip out without meaning to. “It’s a little loose, so don’t pull too hard, okay?”

“Sure.” He folds his elbows down, letting his hands come to rest on his chest. He jerks one hand up toward his hair, pulling his other hand with it, and the tie snaps taut. He has the courtesy to look sheepish. “I’ll try.”

You roll your eyes, smile still wide.

“Hands above your head, please.”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to get at your neck.” You press up on his elbows, and he unfolds his arms. “Those were in the way.”

“O-oh. Right.”

You lean down, tilting his chin up with one hand, and press a kiss to his throat, savoring the way it moves as he swallows. You trail down until you reach his stomach, dragging your tongue along his skin on the way back up. He exhales sharply, breath moving your hair as you get closer to his face. He forces out a laugh, and he rolls one shoulder.

You glance up. The tie is already starting to come loose, untwisting in the middle, but his hands are clasped together, the tie held in place between his wrists, fingers over the ends.

You kiss him, quick and breathless, and slip your fingers under his waistband. When his breath hitches, you smooth your thumb along the bone there, a reassurance you won’t move yet. You can feel him tense under you, pressing up into your touch, then slowly settling back onto the mattress.

You’re both reluctant to acknowledge the fact that you have to get off of him to take his pants off. You do your best to shimmy them under you, and he lifts his hips to help, but you need both hands to make sure his boxers stay on for now, and you want to make sure he can move his legs, so eventually, begrudgingly, you climb off him.

He takes the opportunity to stretch, his back arching off the bed as you throw his pants off somewhere to worry about later.

“Ooh, pretty. Think you can do that for me again?” You press a thumb to the inside of his thigh, at the edge of where his boxer leg has ridden up, and he jumps, hips rolling against your touch.

“Trickery.” He squirms, a whine that refuses to come out shining through in his voice. “Not fair.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty more chances.” You trail your fingers up his thigh, along the “v” of the bone, up his stomach. He shivers when you trail back down, your fingers catching on the waistband of his boxers to drag it over his skin before letting go, settling your hand lightly over the bulge in the fabric. It’s slightly damp against your skin, and Reigen chokes back a moan when you press down. 

You pull, grinding your palm down on his cock as the waistband moves until you can see the base of it, then you slide back up, tracing the outline of him with your fingers. When he whimpers, you’re too slow to hide your grin, and he glares halfheartedly.

“Having fun down there?”

“Oh, lots, thanks.” You slip your thumb below the elastic. “Seems like you are, too.”

“Hm.”

“Sorry, what was that?” You lift your hand with mock alarm, and he scrambles to reach for you, slowly lowering his arms to his chest when he sees your smile.

“Yes.”

“So, just to make sure, you are having fun?” It’s just as sarcastic as it is serious, and he seems to take it in equal measures, because he scoffs at the same time he nods. Both hands are on his hips now, both thumbs in his waistband, and you pull up gently to get him to lift his hips.

“Good boy.”

You’re not sure you would have felt it if you weren’t holding him, but he definitely shudders, trembling where your fingers press into his skin.

“Arataka.”

“Hmm?” He sounds breathless, and his chest heaves with effort, the rest of him as still as he can keep it.

“Should I keep calling you a good boy?”

“Um. If you want.” He jerks his hips up, and you take the hint to slide his boxers off, keeping an eye on his face as you do. You climb between his legs and lean over him, wrapping your hand slowly around his cock, firmly but gently, your thumb over the tip.

He squeaks, and he tenses, but he doesn’t reach for your hands.

“You’re doing so well, ‘Taka.” He swallows, and he shifts his hands, twisting the tie so he can lay his arms closer to his hair. “Such a good boy for me.” Precum oozes out of his slit, and you feel it roll down your hand.

“Mhm.” You lean back on your heels. “How about this? You tell me what feels good, and every time you do,” you pull your thumb down, spreading the precum along his length, “I’ll let you know just how much I appreciate it. Sound good?”

He nods, and you stop moving.

“Can I hear you say it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his wrists together, “yes, sounds good.”

“Good job.” When you lean to kiss him, grip tightening to keep his dick down against his stomach, his knuckles brush over your hair. “So perfect.”

You start slow, focusing more on touching every inch of him then keeping any sort of rhythm. When you trail up the vein on the underside, he shivers, and he gasps when you squeeze the base, and his hips jerk up when you pass over his slit, one leg coming up to press his ankle against your side. It’s not until you slip your other hand around him, though, arm passing through the space created by the bend of his knee to settle on his outer thigh, that he says anything.

“Fuck, that, more of that. P-please.”

“This hand?” You press your fingers into his thigh. He presses back.

“Yeah. I need… just, hold onto me.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course, sweetheart.” You scoot closer to wrap your hand tighter around his leg, spreading your legs to slip your knee underneath him. Once he relaxes, the full weight of his leg on yours, you press a kiss to his knee. “Good boy.”

“Shit,” he laughs, squirming closer to you. “S’not close enough.”

“Let me try something, then.” You slide backwards, reluctantly letting his leg fall to the bed, and you shimmy onto your stomach. When you pull his leg over your shoulder, he immediately hooks his ankle into your back and lets out a breathy moan. The pressure makes it a little harder to reach back around his thigh, but he relaxes into it easier, and the view is incredible. “There you go, perfect.”

You start up a little faster this time, twisting your wrist as you move up and down, and he bucks up into your hand. You risk a kiss to his thigh and his hands fly to your hair, the ends of the tie flowing down against your cheek.

“Sorry, too much?”

“Not enough.” His voice is scratchy now, and he gives a little tug once he gets a hold of you. “Can you, don’t put it- but, closer?”

“You want me here instead?” You press a kiss to the underside of his cock, flipping the loose ends of the tie out of the way to lay across his hip.

“Y-yes. Yes, fuck.”

“Gladly.” Between words, you pepper kisses along his shaft, following the trail of your hand up and down. “Thank you for letting me do this for you. You look so beautiful like this, feeling so good.”

He starts to make a noise of protest, but it quickly shifts into a stifled groan when you press a kiss to his tip, just barely letting your tongue drag across his slit as you pull away.

He whines and bucks his hips to follow you, and you can’t help but let an incredulous laugh slip out. “Alright, love, I’m gonna give you a choice, okay?”

He swallows thickly, then nods.

“Option one, you can tell me exactly how you want me to make you come. If you want my hand or my mouth or to go faster or slower or anything at all you just have to say the word. But I won’t do anything you don’t tell me, so you’ll have to say exactly what you want.”

His breathing is ragged, and he twitches in your grasp. “And option two?”

You grin and lean over him, propping yourself up on one hand. “I do whatever makes you the loudest, and if you stop making those pretty noises for me, I stop.” He seems to flinch at that, and you brush his hair back. “Just for a little while.”

He takes a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed, and he pulls his arms in and down to drape one across his forehead. The tie was never really secure in the first place, but after quite a bit of pulling and flailing, it’s fully undone by now, nothing but luck and stubborn determination holding the loops in place around Reigen’s wrists.

“Both options, of course, come with all sorts of praise and admiration.” You slip a finger under the fabric and give a light tug. He lifts his hands to let the tie slide free.

When he opens his eyes, a shudder running down his spine, he sees you absent-mindedly tying the tie around your neck, uneven and loose, hanging down between you to brush against his stomach. He’s sure you just needed somewhere to put it, something to do with your hands, but it flips a strangely possessive switch somewhere inside him. Not because he’s seeing you in his clothes - he’s had the privilege of that many times before - but because you’ve taken the thing that was supposed to restrain his ability to fuck up the situation, taken something he left safe for you to keep track of without even realizing he’d done it, taken the symbol of his presence in your space and your time and your life, and you’ve put it on without a second thought. He thinks of his misguided reasoning that got you into this situation, that he trusts you with him more than he trusts himself, and he knows what he wants.

For once, words are failing him, which just makes the choice even easier.

“Second one.”

Your eyebrows raise a little, like you’re surprised at his answer, and he almost takes it all back, but then you’re grinning and leaning down to cup his jaw, kissing him like he’s giving you the only air you could ever breathe, and he moans into your mouth.

You lean away just enough to pull in a gasp of air, fingers sliding to tangle into the base of his hair.

“Just like that, gorgeous.”

He laughs, sucking in a shaky breath as you wrap your hand around him again. It pinches into a sort of strained whimper as he starts to quiet himself and thinks better of it, and you start moving.

“That’s it, good boy, just let me take care of everything.”

For all he got into his head before, breaking the seal of touching him seems to have removed any last bits of hesitation, because he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. Your experimenting earlier left you with a good idea of what will get the best noises out of him, and he doesn’t hold back. You’re silently thankful, not only because you get to hear him, but also because you’re not sure you could have followed through on your threat of stopping. And if he’s exaggerating for your sake, all clipped moans and raspy mumbling and bucking hips, well, you’re not going to complain.

After a particularly tight stroke up his cock and a brush of teeth up the inside of his thigh, he pulls one arm over his mouth, pushing it against his lips with his other hand. You’re still deciding if that counts as muffling his sounds enough to slow down when he bites his wrist and yelps, a loud, desperate, frantic noise that seizes what little of your attention isn’t already on him. His head tips back as he struggles to prop himself up on one elbow, hand flipping to clamp down over his mouth, and you can see the bite mark, lines pressed into the pale skin just below the jut of bone where palm meets wrist. It takes you a minute to realize he’s saying something, your brain struggling to piece his noises together into words.

“Can I have your hand?” You hum, scrambling to extract your hand from his leg. “I just- I need,” he opens and closes his hands, “something.” When you hold your hand up blindly toward him, he takes it quickly and holds on tight, fingers lacing together with yours. He gives a few tugs, and you hurry to sit up.

“Please, I need- I can’t take it anymore.” He looks frantic, eyebrows pinched together and his chest heaving with ragged, shaky breaths. His hips buck wildly, quick and shallow into your curled fingers. You realize you’ve forgotten to keep moving as you were watching him, and you quickly correct your mistake, reveling in the shiver that racks through him as your thumb swipes over his tip.

He’s begging now, your name falling out in pieces between gasps and cries; he’s still tugging at your hand like you can’t get close enough, pressing his lips to your jaw like he can’t quite remember how to leave kisses there. He pitches his hips up and presses against you, knees coming together to press into your sides, pinning your hand against your torso as he lets out a final shuddering whimper.

He comes across your fingers, his whole body tense as he holds himself up, back arched and head rolled to the side. He moves to wrap his arms around you, forgetting that his elbow is supporting him, and he pulls you down with him as he falls the short distance to the mattress.

You do your best to roll off him without letting go of him during the aftershocks, but you’re not exactly paying attention to where you’re still holding, and he yelps again from the overstimulation. You yank your hand away with half an apology, smoothing your hand up his side as you lift yourself up on your other arm.

“Nono, wait, don’t-” He scrambles to grab you wherever he can, and you intercept him before he can smack you across the face.

“It’s okay, ‘Taka, s’okay. I’m not going anywhere. I just didn’t wanna crush you. Let’s sit up so you can get some water, alright? All that noise can really make your throat sore, I know.” You slip your hands under him, one at the small of his back and one between his shoulders, gently lifting him toward the headboard. “That’s it. You’re okay. I gotcha.”

Once he’s upright, a glass of water in two shaky hands, you lean over the side of the bed to fumble for a washcloth. When he doesn’t slow down on his own, you start to reach for the glass, but he pulls away for a big gulp of air before you can.

“How you feelin’?”

He doesn’t answer right away, leaving you to fidget with the cloth, slowly reaching for his thigh. He lets his eyes slide closed as you start to wipe him off, smoothing an apologetic thumb over his hip when he hisses from the sensitivity. You wipe your hand on a mostly clean corner before you chuck it in the general direction of the hamper, silently relieved when it makes it in.

“I think I died.” His hands are still shaking as he goes to set the glass on your nightstand, and you gingerly take it from him, lifting yourself up to set it on the far corner where neither of you can accidentally knock it off later. “I understand you now.”

“You didn’t die, I promise.” You allow yourself a smirk and pull a blanket up from the end of the bed. “That’s high praise, though.”

“You’re high praise.”

“You’re the one that liked it so much.”

He rolls his eyes, too tired to argue. As you pull yourself up the bed to sit beside him, he leans over, one hand sliding behind you to rest on your hip. Now that he doesn’t have the distraction of everything else, you can tell he’s starting to think, because his ears are tinting pink and he’s fidgeting with a string on the edge of the blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to oblige.”

You scoop his hand into yours, leaving the blanket’s seams to live another day, and examine the bite mark on his wrist.

“I can’t believe I did that.” He scoffs, shaking his head a little as you turn his arm over. “The hell was I thinking?”

“Obviously you weren’t, which is both the point and very hot, so hush.” He turns away stubbornly, but he looks pleased. “You could probably say a spirit did it. Biting seems like an evil ghost thing to do, right?”

“With clearly human teeth?”

“Maybe it… stole them?”

He laughs, pulling away from your grip to get comfortable against your side. Just as you start to drift off, soothed by the sound of his breathing slowing and his weight settling on you as he relaxes, you feel his fingers walking down your hip, making their way to your thigh. You crack one eye open, and he looks away with obviously fake innocence.

“Where you going with that hand, darling?”

He smiles, bright and daring, as his fingers dig in. “Your turn?”

You consider it. You’re not quite capable of fully ignoring how turned on seeing him like this has made you. There’s a bit of nervous energy, buzzing over what’s left of your hangover, excitement, the joy that bubbles up in your chest at seeing him smiling at you like that, everything coming together in an overwhelming, swirling feeling of wanting whatever he will give you. But there’s something else, a calm undercurrent to it all, coating the emotion in quiet and directing it all back to a single point, solid and unwavering and right .

More than anything, you are content.

He sees your expression and laughs, must know what you’re going to say the moment you decide, because he mouths the words along with you as he pulls his hand back up to your hip.

“Maybe next time.”

[serpentface]

Do psychotropic drugs and/or ritual play a role in any of the blightseed cultures? A pretty broad question, lol

Yeah that’s a very broad question, the answer is about as much as it tends to play roles in real history. Alcohol is pretty ubiquitous (outside of cultures that abstain from intoxicants) and used for a variety of purposes, opioids are commonly used in some parts for pain relief or recreational purposes, stimulants (usually in mild, natural forms) are used to provide extra energy, and hallucinogens are most commonly used as part of a larger religious framework (rather than for recreational purposes). Any more elaborate answer kinda has to be case by case in a certain culture or part of the setting.

I'll just take this as an opportunity to talk about the one established sect that pretty much REVOLVES around psychoactive use. This is the Scholarly Order of the Root, which is a sort of mystery religion + elite community of scholars who currently occupy the Ur-Tree and its forest in the far southern Lowlands (southeast of Imperial Wardin, on the same land mass).

The Ur-Tree is the obligatory Huge Fucking Fantasy Tree (and its surrounding forest). It’s a mass of vegetation about a mile tall and almost as old as Plant Life Itself, its upper branches are primeval plants, which become more modern the nearer they get to the ground (and each 'level' holds tiny ecosystems, some containing descendants of LONG-extinct arthropods/other small animals). Its lowest branches and the surrounding forest are contemporary plant life, and all is connected and protected by an incomparably MASSIVE fungal mycelium network (which is itself a living god).

A lot of the Scholars' more secretive practices revolve around experimentation with substance use with the goal of expanding the Mind and transcending the body to fully connect to the Dreamlands, and they have a supply chain of traders and mercenaries called Rootrunners who traffic substances into the Lowlands. Most of their psychoactive use is in a very intentional capacity and not just like, for fun, but a LOT of them are just straight up addicted to cocaine (in the form of alchemically refined bruljenum, which is used for practical purposes of its stimulant effect during long hours of work).

All known psychoactives are desirable for experimentation (particularly hallucinogens), with each having properties that either allow expansion of the Mind, transcendence of the body, or outright divine communion. Their effects are logged in great detail and interpreted to form the basis of the Scholars' understanding of the natural world and reality itself.

The most important substance is Ur-Root, which is root matter from subterranean levels of the Ur-Tree that have both their own intrinsic psychoactive substances and a very, very high concentration of living god mycelium. The tree root contains DMT and the mycelium has its own wholly unique effects (being an actual living god). They alchemically refine it into a purer, more potent form, and use it to expand beyond the body and directly commune with the Giants, a group of entities they have identified as the only true gods.

An Ur-Root trip starts off with minor visual distortion, which turns into shifting fractals that slowly obscure the vision. Eventually the senses are entirely taken over by a 'tunnel' of rapidly shifting fractals and geometries. In a complete trip, the experiencer gets a sense that they have been pushed through a membrane and entered another realm, finding themselves in a distinct experiential Space.

At this point they may encounter entities which communicate to them in a language impossible to describe but wholly understood. These beings are understood to be the Giants, or at least aspects of the Giants that mortals are capable of comprehending (they often take familiar tutelary forms of the Mantis or the Snake, or appear resembling the same type of sophont that the experiencer is, all composed of ever-shifting geometries). The experiencer often feels a sense of unconditional and endless love from these beings, though the Giants may be more hostile and may appear in the form of the Trickster (usually a cultural figure regarded as malicious, be it an animal or otherwise) in a bad trip.

(^Up until this point, this has mostly just been a DMT 'breakthrough' experience ft. 'machine elves' and the like).

They are then removed from this space and returned to something that feels like the real world, but is nearly unrecognizable. They have a sense of rapidly moving through time, and will usually see 'the spires' towards the beginning, which just so happen to look like this:

(source + some context via Implication- the spires are exactly what this art is depicting)

The experiencer continues to move across an unfathomable amount of time, occasionally 'seeing' other such flashes of unfamiliar landscapes and creatures, and yet also being devoid of all their senses, the 'seeing' is pure, unfiltered experience. There is a sense of interconnectedness with all life, and that one has become the forest (or even Life) itself. The sense of time is wildly distorted, the trip lasts only about 5 minutes but feels like an eternity and is understood as literal hundreds of millions of years.

The experiencer has usually lost any remaining sense of Self and individual consciousness during this phase (in which case this time distortion is usually a neutral or even peaceful experience), but some retain a fraction of their identity, and find themselves trapped and conscious while experiencing what feels like eternity (which can be LIFE-CHANGINGLY distressing, even after the fact).

(^This latter part of the trip is the effects of the Ur-Tree fungus).

The trip ends with a sense of rushing through the ground and back up into one's body, at which point they will abruptly return to their senses and consciousness. The details are then immediately retrieved via interview and recorded in immense detail. The whole experience is understood as having been full comprehension of the Dreamlands, communion with the Giants, and then a tour through the act of creation.

This is done as part of the initiatory practice into the inner mystery-religion of the scholars, and as needed for study by high scholar-priests. It is not taken lightly, both as it is absolute communion with the gods and reality, and in that it can be a very, very difficult experience. People who have gone through this often walk away with a permanently shifted perspective, often in a positive and/or comforting way- a sense of interconnectedness with all life, a peace with the concept of death, seeing less of a point in individual ego and the concept of Self, and comfort in the sense of divine love they (may have) experienced. This heavily influences the philosophy of the Scholars and has had effects by proxy in the religious worldviews of the region.

Details of this experience are closely guarded, and initiates are given absolutely no prior knowledge and expectations for their trip. This is seen as a necessity- their naivety will allow for a true, unfiltered experience, and can be used to gauge whether they should or should not be accepted. Those that have a distinctly bad trip upon initiation may be assumed to have been 'rejected' by the giants and thus denied full priesthood, though this largely depends on How they interpret their distressing trip- those who identify this as a test and harsh lesson in a journey to enlightenment may be accepted (as this is how fully initiated scholar-priests interpret and handle their bad trips).

This inner priesthood is only a small fraction of the Scholarly Order, and its greater function is as a hub of education and repository of knowledge, and Scholar-trained doctors can provide some of the best medical care available in the setting ('best medical care in this setting' only means so much but it's pretty solid, relatively speaking). Only a chosen few Scholars ever get to commune with the Ur-Root, and most of the divine secrets revealed in the process are kept hidden (though they indirectly influence the politics and worldview of the entire order).

[comicaurora]

If you were a sci-fi writer, how would you solve the Fermi paradox? That being the discrepancy between evidence for alien life, versus the likelihood of their existence? (basically. If alien so likely, why we not see?) The Dead Space series has an amazing cosmic horror solution, but i'm curious what you're brain could come up with!

There's a lot of possibilities, some more interesting than others.

The speed of light and the distance between inhabited stars makes it prohibitively slow to detect, make contact with, or reach any star with alien life. It doesn't matter if we're not alone, our corner of Space Reachable Within A Human Lifetime is so comparatively small that we may as well be. We're all blindly wandering through an infinite desert, calling into the void. Space exploration is a long game, and on that timescale, even whole civilizations blink out very quickly. If we manage to catch a signal and follow it, we might find nothing on the other end but ruins - or an asteroid field where a planet's orbit used to be.

The universe is too young for us to find anyone else out there. We're the first. How will we shape the galaxy to make life better for those who come after us?

The life that formed on Earth is terrifyingly invasive. The atmosphere and ocean is choked with monocellular life, and its surface is coated with a mass of multicellular organisms finding new ways to devour one another. Even extinction events don't keep down the biomass for long. If life on other planets looks anything like us, the problem isn't going to be detecting it. It'll have gotten everywhere. The problem is going to be not immediately getting colonized and eaten alive by it. And if life on other planets DOESN'T look like us, our whole planet is probably a class 1 biohazard and contamination risk. Multicellular earth organisms contain microcosmic ecosystems that proliferate explosively when they die. If anything inside them can find ANYTHING to eat, it's over.

Life evolves frequently, but always in oceans. It is extremely rare for any alien life to leave that ocean and adapt to life on land. Without this step, the jump to space exploration - even space contemplation - becomes infinitely more unlikely.

Monocellular life is seeded on planets from an outside source and allowed to self-cultivate and grow until the biomass reaches a certain volume. Then the farmers return to harvest it.

There is not a single other species on our entire planet that humans can actually reliably communicate with. It takes tremendous amounts of training to make an animal capable of recognizing even a handful of words, and very few of them can use them. Humans can't even communicate with other humans with 100% clarity, even if they're using the same language. When we find alien life, if we even recognize it as anything resembling life as we know it, we have absolutely no way of communicating.

Space colonialism has been disallowed by the space geneva conventions due to massive past tragedies, parasitic exploitation of worlds and senseless loss of life. Human expeditionary efforts are being watched warily through targeting sights.

We've known about radio communication for less than 200 years. We haven't yet figured out the medium through which all advanced civilizations communicate.

Alien life exists in abundance, but the vast majority of it is extremely tiny. We wouldn't spot an anthill on a satellite photo, and none of their ships are large enough to survive passage through our atmosphere.

Earth's oxygen atmosphere is an anomaly, and our first and most enduring extinction event. The explosive proloferation of cyanobacteria and their oxygen photosynthesis irreparably altered the planet's prebiotic atmosphere and wiped out everything that couldn't handle the sudden massive increase in a highly reactive and flammable gas. Earth is considered highly toxic and unstable, though recently detected increases in methane and CO2 might signal that nature is finally beginning to heal.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) captain price nsfw alphabet with p-links, 𝒶⸺𝓏

𝒜 = aftercare (what they’re like after sex) : john, as i've stated before, is very touchy. he likes having his hands on you in any way that he can. so he'll pull you to his chest as the two of you catch your breath and run his hands along your body, pressing kisses to the crown of your hairline. you usually end up dozing off before john does and so he takes the initiative to grab a warm, damp cloth and clean up the mess of cum between your thighs. after he's done, he'll hop right back into bed and pull you flush to his body, sliding his hands along the expanse of your thighs and counting each beauty mark and mole along your body in the dim lighting of the room until he eventually falls asleep. [connected to this post and this one as well!]

𝐵 = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) : john's favorite body part of his would have to be his hands. they're big and calloused from work and he enjoys gently grasping your hips with them when he pulls you in for a slow kiss. he also adores how much you love them as well, his hands swamping yours whenever the two of you interlock fingers with each other. now john has an obsession with your lips, for him, they convey your emotions much better than words ever could. he can tell when you're annoyed with him by the purse of your lips. can tell when you're feeling shy by the slight upturn of the corner of your mouth. can tell when you're being sassy and sarcastic with the cute smirk that'll grace your lips and also when you're feeling sad by the way your lips curl in on themselves to form a line, and perhaps that's not a body part but it's his absolute favorite.

𝒞 = cum (anything to do with cum basically... i’m a disgusting person) : john's cum is pearl white in color and it's sticky and thick and there's always so much of it when he cums for the first time. the taste of his cum is slightly salty but it's not overbearing, you love the taste of him. price prefers to cum inside of you rather than anywhere else, this only started after john saw you holding your friend's newborn baby in your arms, it's been john's mission to impregnate you since then. [connected to this post!]

𝒟 = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) : it's no secret that john is older than you, there's an obvious age gap and some people may sneer at your relationship (as you're in your mid to late twenties and john is thirty-seven.) during playful banters between you and john, your go-to "insult" is always, "old man", "yes, daddy." or something along those lines. and despite himself, price always finds that he's thick and hard in his pants. he won't ever tell you that though.

𝐸 = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) : okay, price isn't the type to sleep around, he's had some occasional flings here and there, but that's about it. that doesn't mean he's inexperienced though, john puts in work. he studies your reactions and what you like. a delicious roll of his hips has him hitting that spongey little spot inside of you. licking his thumb before planting it on your clit to rub quick figure eights, has your thighs shaking and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer, and whispering lewd things in your ear and kissing you all sloppily in his pussy drunk state? has your cunt leaking all over the place. john price knows how to fuck and make love, he's perfect.

𝐹 = favorite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) : hm, john's favorite position is called the 'g-whiz' it's a stupid name lowkey but it gives him the perfect view to watch your face as you fall apart over and over on his cock. it also gives him access to your g-spot and your clit as well. three birds with one stone (he loves watching your tits bounce too.)

𝒢 = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) : it's a mix. there are times when the two of you are going at it like bunnies and perhaps bump heads a bit too hard. or maybe one of you trips while pulling off a piece of clothing-- there's going to be obvious laughter. during softer sex, where john's thrusts are deep and rolling, slow and intimate--- his gaze is always so full of his adoration for you and it leaves you breathless at times. he kisses gently, whispering words of love to you and smiling at the tears that sting your eyes. so yeah, he's a mix.

𝐻 = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) : john, before he met you, wasn't really sexually active, and so he didn't keep up with grooming himself, there was no need for him to. he was out in the field for weeks on end at a time and when he was off the field all he wanted to do was relax and sleep as much as he could before he had to go back out for another mission. after he met you, however, he wanted to groom himself. not that you seemed to care, nor had you ever complained. but he did it anyways. so, price's hair is brown, nicely trimmed, with no scraggly hairs in sight.

𝐼 = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) : please, john is madly in love with you and he himself knows it and he loves to make it known to you often, even outside of sex. price loves keeping eye contact with you, whether it's through a mirror, while you're riding him, or in any other position that allows the two of you to be face to face. he loves watching the small ticks in your expression as he grinds his hips into yours, cock sinking into you at the most excruciatingly slow pace he's ever gone. loves the way your cheeks flush and your cunt squeezes him when he calls you his, "pretty girl." this man also says 'i love you' often, and it's always so genuine, you never grow tired of hearing him say it. (he definitely doesn't kiss your chin when you give him an annoyed pouty look at his slow pace, he definitely doesn't apologize and speed up either.)

𝒥 = jack off (masturbation headcanon) : i find it hard to picture price masturbating, but i believe he does so when he's away from home for weeks on end, but it's not mindless masturbation like most men are prone to doing. john, when he's away from you for long periods of time, gets almost…needy?? in a way. this man misses you like no other, he misses the smell of you, your loving touches, your smile, your cooking, you pulling him to the living room floor to dance, your horrible singing when the two of you shower together and god he misses the sound of your voice. and this feeling is all so new to him and it's almost overwhelming. 

so when price has the downtime, he calls you, it's a spur-of-the-moment call and when you pick up, he can hear the thickness of sleep in your voice; he feels selfish and a bit foolish, he was acting like a horny teenager. however, after hearing the excitement in your voice and the surprise, he can only smile and ask how everything has been at home. who would've thought that the sound of your voice, all sleepy and soft would get him hard and thick within his cargos? who also would've thought that john price would unzip himself to pull out his rigid cock, tip leaking with pearlescent pre-cum and pulsing in his large hand. yes, john ends up fucking his fist to the sound of your voice, humming and grunting softly to signify that he's listening to you, thighs tensing and heart hammering in his ribcage. i mean, what you don't know won't hurt you.

𝒦 = kink (one or more of their kinks) : hear me out, roleplay, please! wait, think about it, perhaps it's not full-on roleplay but it's something of the sort, john gets a raging boner when you call him 'captain price' mockingly or 'sir'. another would have to be breeding, john wants to knock you up so bad it's almost an obsession, would love to see you swollen with his child, most definitely says something along the lines of. "good girl, wan' t'get you pregnant so bad. you'd like that, hm?" during sex. a mild voice kink? loves the sound of your voice and almost always cums instantly when you beg him to fill you up.

𝐿 = location (favorite places to do the do) : don't really see john being too much of an exhibitionist but the two of you have had sex outside at a park, while on a picnic. you had crawled into his lap and kissed him softly, pleadingly, blinking your pretty little lashes at him and i mean; who is he to say no to your greedy little cunt? however, he prefers to do it in the comfort of your shared home. ♡

𝑀 = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) : your teasing. whether it be playful or sexual it always riles price up. it's one of the many things that he loves about you, your sense of humor. and you express it well, not just through your actions or your words but also through your eyes, they're always so expressive and glittering with light mischief that he can't help but sweep you off your feet, throw you over his shoulder, and carry you into the bedroom.

𝒩 = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs) : hurting you in any way, there are some things he's a bit lenient on if you like it; like choking and light slapping but other than that, it's a no for price. man loves you too much to do anything of the sort.

𝒪 = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) : as much as john loves having his cock buried down your throat, watching as you stare up at him with tear-stained cheeks, your mouth and chin covered in spit and his cum— he enjoys eating you out. he loves the taste of you on his tongue, loves to overstimulate you, loves to control your orgasms, loves to hear you beg and roll your hips on his tongue. if john could he'd spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs, large hands gripping the fat of your hips to keep you still as your thighs quiver and your pussy pulses from being too sensitive, he would. well shit, i guess that should be one of john's kinks too then, huh?

𝒫 = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) : price is usually slow and sensual, with fervent deep strokes, tender kisses, and whispered murmurs of love. what can he say? he loves showing that he loves you in all that he does. however, on the days when he comes home after a mission gone awry or being away for a long time in general, he's gonna be fast and rough; using your body any way he pleases. on days like this, he prefers you in 'doggy style' or even the 'mating press', and immediately gives you cuddles afterward though, telling you briefly of his mission as you run your hands through his hair. ♡

𝒬 = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) : hm, john isn't one for quickies, i mean he doesn't mind a quickie, the park sex that the two of you had was a quickie after all. but i believe he much prefers proper sex, that way he can pull orgasm after orgasm from you and take his time as well. 

𝑅 = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) : john is down to try something at least once, especially if it's something that you want to try. not too long ago, you handcuffed price to the bed and edged him until he had literally begged you to let him cum, it was quite the sight and he's down to do it again. 

𝒮 = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) : give this man two good rounds, and then he's tuckered out. however he doesn't mind if you're still reeling to go, he'll pull you onto his lap and let you ride him until you're sated. or even make you ride his face, he could never deny you anything after all. 

𝒯 = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) : y'all hear me out once more....vibrating panties. rahhhh, hold on hold on. you guys use it when you're out on walks, at restaurants and sometimes even at dinners with your friends. man gets bricked up at the sight of you squeezing your thighs together, breathless and completely out of it. however, in the bedroom, price is all you need, the man is much better than any toy.

 𝒰 = unfair (how much they like to tease) : teases you often, whether it be with overstimulation, ruining your orgasms, or even having you beg him to let you cum. the man, believe it or not, likes to see your eyes water and your lips pout. loves that he can get his sassy, fiery wife all squirmy and pleading with just a few strokes of his tongue. 

𝒱 = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make) : john is not shy, he'll tell you how good you're making him feel, not with just his deep, guttural groans, but also with words. price is the king of dirty talk and he does it unknowingly, he most definitely curses when he's moaning as well, drawn out 'fucks' and at when your pussy squeezes him tight, he'll say. "shit, sweetheart y'r pussy s'made for me." calls you the lewdest names known to man, but says it so lovingly that you can't help but be turned on even more than you already are.

𝒲 = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) : has definitely had you suck him off while underneath his desk while on a computer call with laswell. poor baby, his face was pink from holding in his moans, especially after you buried him to the hilt down your throat. totally didn't get caught or anything.

𝒳= x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) : the picture speaks for itself. ♡

𝒴 = yearning (how high is their sex drive?) : you guys, price is 37, atp? he's 40, it may not be as it used to be when he was younger but! he puts in the work and most times tires you out before he tires out.

𝒵 = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward) : it takes awhile for price to succumb to sleep, no matter how tired he is. so it's usually you falling asleep first. he lays there, holding you close and running his hands along your back and then further. he'll drift off to the sound of your slow breathing and the steady rhythm of your heart.  ♡

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : the full alphabet! ahem, i enjoyed doing this

[fernshawart]

A few months ago I had a dream where I played a new kind of salmonid wave. I've tried my best to illustrate it and try to tell everyone about the thing I've experienced.

Now introducing : Oil spills

Oil spills are a special wave in salmon run, similar to glowflies or Goldie seeking.

When an oil spill starts, you get a unique piece of Grizz dialogue : "Urgh ... Alright kids you know what ? No objective for that wave. Just try your best to survive."

The round plays similarly to a cohock charge, and golden salmonid starts emerging from the sea. They look like mini cohozunas and are around twice as big cohocks. They are very bulky but walk very slowly, so timing your canon shots is key to get rid of them.

You can get golden eggs from these enemies but picking them up isn't necessary, as there is no quota.

As the wave keeps on going, the golden enemies get slowly and slowly less shiny and more covered with a dark substance. And the more covered they are, the bulkier they get. Until finally, you end up seeing some of them pitch black, basically a mangled salmonid covered in a very thick black dripping goop

These salmonids are completely unable to be killed. They cannot be damaged and in fact, they should NOT be approached. And that's when the wave goal shifts

There ends up to be around 4-5 of these salmonids. They are slow but they will kill you if they touch you. You can technically be revived but the problem is reaching anyone who died. The ink they leave behind is oil, which cannot be covered back by your own ink.

The goal after that is to actually move as a group to properly lure the oil salmonids so that they don't immediately cover up your ground and kill you all. The oil on its own won't kill you but it obviously makes it difficult to move around if you're on it.

When the wave ends, one of the oil salmonids runs up to the egg basket discords its body to swallow it before leaving back to the sea, basically taking away any amount of egg you could've gotten for Grizz (hence why it's NOT recommended to pick up eggs)

If you win, no matter what wave you're on, the shift will end with a victory and Grizz will go "there you go kiddo, we're done for that shift. What, paying you ?! Alright ... I guess I LEGALLY have to pay you even if you didn't do anything. Actually, maybe try dying next time "

Surviving that wave will not give you points for the gatcha, due to your team basically loosing all its eggs. It will, however, give you fish scales based on how well you defend yourself against the mini golden cohozunas

In the darkened sky of the special wave, you may be able to spot aurora borealis, mimicking the colors of an oil spill.

OH and one last thing : this wave had a different kind of music.

It was drums, very intense but not fast paced ones, without any other instruments to accompany them.

If you want an exemple of what this may sound like, listen to Arceus's theme.

[plutoasteroids]

How Does Your Future Spouse's Ancestors Feel About You- PAC

PILE 1 PILE 2 PILE 3

All readings are allegedly for entertainment purposes only. i won't be held liable for any choices made based on my readings!

PILE 1

Okay Pile 1, For you it feels like your Future Spouse's ancestors may be a bit iffy about you guys. Some of them like you and some just don't. They may feel like you are hiding something from the world like you are portraying yourself in a way that isn't the real you essentially. You know how when you meet certain people you may take one look at them and be like I don't like them because they look intimidating, they make me feel uneasy well that's kind of the vibe here. It's not like you necessarily did anything to make them feel that way. You may come off as cold, bossy and reserved which is why they may feel like you're being deceptive like how you are less likely to trust the quiet person sitting in the corner of the room yeah that kind of vibe. Like I said earlier though some of them like you some don't it's fine though because it's not like you're going to interact with them at family gatherings 😭

PILE 2

Now Pile 2, Your future spouse's ancestors will feel like you are quite traditional, you may want the traditional type of family I heard the family you see on brochures lmfaoo, very funny. Anyways, they feel you are quite responsible constantly taking care of Mutiple things at once like always multitasking and always having something to do to them you seem to always be in a rush to get somewhere or to get something done, I heard them saying 'slow down and rest'. You are constantly trying to be the fixer, the one that everyone can rely on and the one who is constantly trying to break a cycle and honestly you might be the type of person to take people's lessons for them. You worry too much about things that shouldn't be any of your business, I heard them say 'Get a backbone/ develop a spine' basically stand up for yourself and learn to put yourself first and say no when necessary because not everything is your problem. I won't lie to you i feel like they have a soft spot for you. You also will or might help with breaking generational curses in their lineage.

PILE 3

Last but not least, Pile 3 for you they will feel like you deal with a lot in life. you may have had a difficult time in life thus far. You have lost a lot, and they know that nothing ever seemed to be going in your favour most times and you may have wondered if the universe hates you but no it doesn't, and the situation will infect get better. How they feel about you is that they feel you are a sensitive soul, and life hasn't been fair thus far, but you have worked hard on yourself to improve and make life easier for yourself because you realised that no one is coming here to save you, so you have to save yourself or you'll drown. They kind of want to baby you because you may have not gotten the affection in the past, you don't have to be strong forever this cycle will come to an end soon and you will be able to feel vulnerable without shame or the worry that it's fake and won't last.

[4ttack-ur-heart]

May I request a rafayel x virgin reader smut where they are getting intimate for the first time and she squirts and doesn't understand but as he breaks her hymen she bleeds and she panics when they are done etc?

Forever bonded

Pairing: Rafayel x virgin! mc

Warnings: smut, blood, mc basically freaking out at the end, virginity loss, inaccurate lore prbly, hurt/comfort, slight ooc fishie, oral both receiving, unprotected sex.

Summary: You and Rafayel decide to finally go all the way and form a bond by having sex for the first time, not realizing your body wants to react in ways you’ve never seen.

I don’t have Rafayel’s god of tides myth and I feel like that really dives more into Lemurian lore from what I’ve seen, so if it’s inaccurate shhhhh. In this fic, their bond is formed by the boom shakalaka. I also added in the scene of when he was possessed in the main story cause lowkey that form was hot.

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Rafayel's words linger on your skin as his lips draw down your jawline. His hand cradles your face, the other pulling your body flush against his chest. You let out a breath when his teeth scrape against the vein on your neck, your hips roll over his groin in retaliation, and he lets out a shuddering groan.

He pulls away, hands now settled on your hips as his lust-filled gaze locks onto yours.

"We should stop."

You frown at his words. Disappointed fills your mind as the burning passion swirls hotter in your tummy. "Raf, I think I'm ready."

Rafayel looks away briefly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks. You're a virgin, and he wants to make sure you're a thousand percent ready. In the past, anytime you guys have gotten steamy with your make-out sessions, one of you feels forced to stop. His hands guide your hips off of him, and you think he's going to stop and just pull you into his arms to cuddle for the rest of the night.

Your toes brush against his thigh as you settle into your new spot. You're surprised when he swings his leg over your body, so now you're the one being straddled.

"Don't say those words if they aren't true," you see the hesitation in his eyes before he seals the words with a kiss. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you eagerly let him in. Your legs wrap against his waist and pull him impossibly closer to you. "Do you know what this means for my people?"

Rafayel pulls away again. Your noses brush against each other, and your breaths mingle in short pants. You shake your head 'no' slowly.

"Lemurians being in love is a blessing and a curse. When we fall in love, we love hard and become devoted," his head buries itself between the crook of your neck. A few more sloppy kisses are placed against the skin below your ear. "This is how my people create a bond."

He licks the shell of your ear, and his words make you shiver from the sensitivity. "If we bond, you're stuck with me for all eternity. It has no limits, even to death. I need you to know that if you don't reciprocate, the burden of me loving you will consume me entirely."

Rafayel sits above you now, his legs caging you in. When you take a minute to respond, he grabs your chin in his hand and forces eye contact.

"Do you understand?" His eyes are pleading as they search yours for confirmation. "This isn't something my people take lightly."

"I-I understand…" your words are breathy.

"Not to mention you're a virgin too, baby. Is this something you're ready for? If you wanna stop, I need you to tell me now-"

"No," you cut him off. "I'm ready, Raf, I love you."

He leans down to place another sensual kiss on your lips. A deep groan resonated within him.

"We'll take it slow, my love, don't you worry." His words reassure you, and his lips attach themselves to your neck. Little hums escape you as his lips hit all the sensitive areas.

Rafayel licks at the new hickey on your neck. Pulling away, he slowly gets off the couch, and his arms settle under your body before you lift to his chest.

He carries you through the hallway and to his bedroom. The dim lighting casts your shadows on the wall. He places you on the edge of the bed, and his thumb traces over the waistband of your shorts.

"Have you masturbated before?"

Yes. Yes, you have- many times, in fact. All to the thought of him finally taking you and claiming you as his. Just because you were a virgin doesn't mean you don't take some personal time a few times a week.

"Yeah," you shudder when your shorts slip off your legs, and your lacy panties are now on display.

Rafayel settles between your bent knees, and his arms curled under them. He turns them slightly to place a few wet kisses against your thighs. "What do you use? Your fingers or toys?"

He nibbles on the meaty part of your inner thigh.

"B-both."

A small laugh.

"Let's add my mouth to the list."

Rafayel's tongue drags down your slit through your panties, and you shudder. His teeth clamp down on the waistband, and he slowly tugs, his eyes locking onto yours. Once they're down to your knees, he dives into your cunt.

You let out a choked sound as his warm tongue explores your folds. He feels your hips rock slowly against his face, and his hold on your legs tightens ever so slightly to keep you in place.

This man slurps and laps at your cunt as if it's a great feast, and he's been starved for days. Filthy noises quickly fill the room.

"Raf," you moan, fingers curling into his purple curls. He groans in response.

His lips suction around your clit, and you arch your back at the pleasure driving through you.

"Mm, yeah, just like that."

His tongue moves in little circles around the bundle of nerves. He savors the way your body reacts.

As your moans become louder, his tongue quickens. You feel the familiar coiling of your tummy.

"Augh- I-I'm gonna…" the words die from your throat as quickly as they came.

Rafayel groans deeply against your core, and you shudder from the vibrations.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

You hear his voice ring out, muffled slightly. Your toes curl, and you open your legs impossibly further into a butterfly position.

With a shaky whine, your orgasm rocks through your body.

Rafayel doesn't pull away immediately- his head stays down to slurp at the cum that leaks out of you. Your fingers are now loosely tangled in his hair, nails grazing his scalp.

When he pulls away, he's panting slightly. There's a primal look in his eyes that are glazed over. His fingers leave your trembling thighs and trail up his shirt before unbuttoning the buttons slowly.

You sluggishly watch from your spot, a new wave of heat already taking over your body. Rafayel doesn't break eye contact as he discards the wine-colored shirt. He leans in and hovers above you, his hands resting on your head. He licks his lips, and you catch the scent of your juices still lingering around his mouth.

"Here." His hand grabs yours and trails it down your body. He stops below his belt, and you can feel the hardening erection underneath the fabric of his pants. "Can you feel what you do to me?"

You shakily nod, and your fingertips dance lightly over his groin. He lets out a wince, shuts his eyes, and dips his head in the column of your throat.

"Raf?" You ask with your hand coming up to caress the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Hmm?"

"C-can I suck you off?"

Rafayel tenses, and his eyes shoot open at your request. Slowly, he pulls away and stares into your eyes.

"Are you sure? You don't have to"

"I want to." You state more firmly as he climbs off of you and rests on his knees. Your eyes drift to his large erection, and you gently ease him back more. Holding heavy eye contact, you unbuckle his belt slowly, the metal clanging against the buckle.

Rafayel breathes heavily as he watches your movements. The tip of his ears burn bright red, and he's sure his face isn't any better. Pulling his pants down, it's easier to see the shape of his cock through his boxers. A small patch of precum is visible on the tip.

Your hands clasp over his member through the fabric, and his body shudders in response. Nails swipe over the waistband of the boxers before they hook in and pull them down his legs as well. Rafayel's pants become quicker as he is now bare in front of you. His hard cock curls against his stomach, grazing the bottom of his lean abs.

"Oh fuck-" he breathes as soon as your lips take in his cock. You hum at the salty cum dripping from the tip. His hand softly tangles into your hair, keeping it out of your face as you slowly bob up and down.

Your mouth hollows, and your tongue pokes out to swirl against the tip, making his hips twitch and involuntarily buck.

Rafayel's sharp gasps slowly become breathy whimpers as you increase your speed. His full length hits the back of your throat, and you have to concentrate to keep yourself from gagging.

His fingers tighten against your hair and start to control your motions. "F-fuck!" Another buck from his hips.

You moan against his length when he bottoms out in your mouth, and the vibrations travel through his body.

"Baby, get off… 'm gonna-"

Rafayel does his best to ease you off his cock, but you grab his hips to pull him even closer to you. He rasps out a throaty cry when he finally releases. The white spurts of cum shoot into your mouth and hit the back of your throat, and you swallow every last drop, savoring the way he tastes.

His hand keeps you in place while he finishes riding out his orgasm. When you pull away with a small pop, a long strand of saliva connects from your bottom lip down to his girth.

Finally catching your breath, you both hold each other's gazes.

"You ready for the fun part, babygirl?" He whispers as his hand rests against your cheek. His thumb tenderly stroked the bone, and he savored how you leaned into his touch.

"Yes."

Without another thought, he pulls you in for another kiss. Your lips collide, and teeth scrape against each other in a constant hunger. Rafayel lays you back down on the bed, your head resting against the pillow as his cock starts to rub against your cunt. He takes his cock in his hand and places it between your folds, and you let out a hum at the sensitivity of it rubbing against your puffy clit.

Rafayel disconnects your lips, pulling away with an unsure look. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I'm sure, Raf." Your hand rests against his cheek, and your fingers brush lightly against his temple, scraping away the purple hair sticking slightly to his forehead from the sweat.

"Okay," he places a chaste kiss against your wrist, and his eyes dart to the nightstand. "Then I want to make sure this is as special as possible."

A spark flickers to life at his fingertips, and you watch in awe as the flame dances playfully, casting shimmering shadows on the walls. With a graceful flick of his wrist, the flame leaps toward the nightstand, igniting a cluster of candles that burst to life. The room is now bathed in a soft, warm glow, wrapping around your bodies like a tender embrace and transforming the space into an intimate haven.

"Now, where were we?"

His head lowers down to your lips again, cock still nestled warmly between your folds. Rafayel lets out another groan when he feels the limb becoming hard again, just begging to become wrapped in your tight walls.

After placing one last kiss on your lips, he pulls away and sits up.

You watch as he spits into his hand before rubbing it over his shaft. He grasps his now half-hard cock and rubs the tip up and down your wet folds, admiring the way you whine.

"You ready?" His eyes find yours as the tip grazes your entrance, and when you nod, he slowly pushes it in.

"Aagh!" You can't help the noise that escapes you from the sudden burst of pain. Rafayel halts his movements, and he carefully watches your expression.

"Are you okay?" He asks, voice tense from the way your hole is already fluttering at his cock.

"Mmhmm! K-Keep going..."

Nails grip his biceps when he slowly starts to push in again, leaving little crescent-shaped indents. You hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut as a way to bear with the pain.

"Go slow, go slow," you cry out, and he gives you another moment to adjust.

"Almost there, baby. You're doing great." He reassures.

You're a whining mess by the time he fully bottoms out. He lowers his head to your collarbone, kissing your skin tenderly. It takes a minute for your body to adjust to his length, and you try to focus on pleasure more than the pain of your hole being stretched out.

"I'm gonna start moving, okay?"

You let out a shaky breath as tears line the bottom lids of your eyes, but you nod regardless.

His thrusts start slow- very slow. Thanks to the candlelight, Rafayel can see every expression you create: every lip quiver, every scrunch in your eyebrows, and every bead of sweat that coats your forehead.

Your toes curl, and you loosely wrap your legs around his hips to draw him closer. His hips move a little faster now, and progressively, your grunts of pain start to morph into small moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight." He whines lowly.

As his thrusts become quicker, your eyes flutter shut when you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Both of your moans echo loudly throughout the room, harmonizing with the sound of his hips smacking the skin of your ass.

When you finally open your eyes, the tears that blurred your vision begin to clear, revealing a striking transformation. His once natural pinky-blue eyes now shimmer with a vibrant azure as if reflecting the ocean's depths. A glowing haze, the same captivating shade of blue, envelops his ears, subtly shaped to resemble delicate fins. Iridescent scales, similar to those of a fish, are scattered across his cheekbones, catching the light and creating a mesmerizing pattern.

"R-Raf?" You sound concerned at the sudden transformation and clench around him when those bright blue eyes lock onto yours.

"It's okay, darling," he reassures breathlessly and rests his forehead against yours. "The sea is accepting our bond."

Rafayel can't help but feel more lustful knowing the bond is being created and accepted. It ignites a primitive urge in him. His pace quickens again, and you feel the coil tighten in your tummy. A shuddering whine escapes you as you feel your impending orgasm about to crash down over you for the second time that night.

"Already, babygirl?" Rafayel teases when he feels your walls flutter around his cock.

His thrusts never cease, even when the blissful release finally overtakes your body. A tight-lipped squeal rings from you as your legs shake and tremble mid-air. Rafayel's moans start to shift into whimpers as he continues to pound into your dripping cunt.

"Rafayel!" You whimper out.

The overstimulating feeling quickly surges through your body, muscles tightening in response, and all you can focus on is his cock squelching in and out of your dripping hole.

Rafayel knows his thrusts are becoming too much; he can feel it by the way your nails dig into his shoulders as a warning, but he can't help it. The way your tight hole practically sucks him back every time he pulls out. "I-I'm almost-"

He can't think straight, and neither can you, so when you let out a loud cry- almost a scream- as your body writhes underneath his, he can feel himself coming undone. His hand tangles into your hair and draws your head closer to his chest while the other grips almost painfully at your hip.

His thrusts become sloppier as he draws nearer to his high.

The overstimulation quickly brings you to your third and final orgasm of the night. The knot in your lower tummy curls impossibly tight, and you try to pull away when your muscles tighten to the point where you feel like you're going to pee. Your hands settled onto his chest in an effort to push him away, but it was too late.

A flood of liquid squirts out of your cunt, painting your thighs and his abs with the glistening fluid. That's all it takes before a choked cry escapes him as he spills his hot cum into your tight cunt.

Your body falls limp to the bed, limbs sticky with sweat, and your chest heaving with sporadic breaths. Rafayel bottoms his cock into you once more before slowly pulling out, giving out a small whimper when your hole refuses to let go of him.

His arms shake as he hovers over you, lips trailing over your cheeks to kiss away any stray tears that have fallen.

"It's okay, it's okay," Rafayel coos, pulling you into his chest and cradling you in his arms. His eyes gradually returned to their natural, vibrant pink and blue hue. The iridescent scales that once captured the light began to fade, signifying the powerful completion of their bond.

The overwhelming feeling in your head fatigues you, and all you crave right now from Rafayel is comfort and cuddles. You sniffle as a small kiss is placed on your sticky forehead. "You did so good, my beautiful girl. I didn't even think you'd squirt for me during our first time."

Your brow furrows at his words, hazy eyes locking onto the cheeky smile he's trying so hard to hide.  

"Huh? Was that what that was...?"

Rafayel hums in response and brushes stray strands of hair away from your face. "It can happen when your body is too overstimulated."

Even after your orgasms subsided, you can't help but notice a slight but dull stinging sensation. Your eyes trail down to the mess between both of your bodies, and your eyes widen when you catch a bright crimson mixed with your cum.

"Oh my god, I'm bleeding." Your voice shakes as Rafayel looks down at the mess before he gets off the bed to grab a few towels.

One is placed underneath you while he uses the other to wipe the sticky juices off your trembling thighs. More tears start to line your eyes, the physical and emotional overstimulation finally taking its toll.

"What do I do? Do I need to go to the hospital?"

Rafayel grasps your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down. "No, this happens sometimes, cutie. You're gonna be just fine, okay? It's your hymen, it can tear sometimes from having sex for the first time."

"But... I didn't know this could happen. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

He lets out a small chuckle and pulls you into his arms again.

"Every woman is different, some tear, others don't."

A surge of embarrassment engulfs you, a stark contrast to the excitement you had anticipated for your first experience. The moment, intended to be memorable for its intimacy and excitement, has turned into a whirlwind of confusion, and you suddenly feel self-conscious.

As if sensing your humiliation, Rafayel grabs his silk robe from the floor and drapes it over your shoulders. "Please don't be embarrassed, cutie. It happens, and there's nothing to worry about."

Rafayel scoops you up into his arms and carries you to the bathroom. He sets you on the sink, and the large bathtub starts to fill with warm water. His eyes settle on your down-casted gaze, and his hand grasps your chin so your sight meets his. "I can tell you're upset by this, but I need you to know you can trust me."

You let out a shaky chuckle, using the robe sleeve to rub your eyes. "I do trust you, but it's scary, though. I've never experienced any of this before, and I don't want you to laugh at me."

He lets out a scoff and playfully rolls his eyes dramatically. "Puh-lease, I'm not some immature teenager, cutie. Let's focus on cleaning you up, and we can talk more if you'd like. Is that okay?"

You nod, and he slips the robe off your shoulders and carefully picks you back up to place you in the steaming tub. The smell of eucalyptus wafts into your nose, and you hum contentedly as the warm water eases your sore muscles.

"Stay here, I'll be back in a few moments." He kisses your temple and leaves the bathroom to change the bedsheets.

You close your eyes and lean your head back against the rim, fighting the urge to fall asleep.

A few minutes later, Rafayel returns, and you sleepily open your eyes before reaching up to him and making grabby hands.

He lets out a small laugh and steps in behind you. The water sloshes as he settles in and pulls you back into his chest. Your eyes flutter shut at the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat and steady breathing.

Sweet sleep is interrupted once more when he taps your nose.

"Hm?"

"Look."

You crane your head to look at him and see his eyes locked onto his chest. Drifting your gaze down his neck and collarbone, they finally stop above his heart.

A bright red mark glows on his skin.

"That's our bond, my love."

[withleeknow]

my moon and stars.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, (tooth-rotting) fluff; even tho it's unedited this is still one of my favorite things that i've written on this blog so far !!! gaaaaaaah word count: 1.1k listen to 🎧: lover - taylor swift

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

nobody thought jeongin would be the next one to get married, but alas, here you are, at the reception of your friend's wedding, nursing a glass of champagne.

"come on," minho says, snatching the glass away from you and finishing the rest of it in one gulp, before he takes you by the hand and tugs you forward. "let’s go dance."

you can't even be annoyed that he basically just stole your drink. instead, you just laugh, and let the love of your life drag you to the dance floor.

he guides you to move in a slow rhythm, matching the tempo of the song that's playing in the background. it's a song that you would usually think is overrated and has been played to hell and back, but in the moment, drunk on the cozy atmosphere, you think it's nice. you briefly wonder what song you would choose for your first dance at your own wedding.

it's just a fleeting thought. you've been having those all day.

jeongin's wedding was beautiful. everything was done to perfection, and you have no doubt that most of it was overseen by his girlfriend.

nope, correction: she's his wife now.

nevertheless, you've been imagining yourself and minho in a similar setting. you in a stunning white dress. him, dashing in a classy suit. the two of you exchanging vows with teary eyes in front of your friends and families. the cats as ring bearers. sealing forever with a deep kiss and fond smiles.

as you continue to sway along to the music, you wrap your arms around minho's neck and pull him closer. there's something in the way that he's been treating you all day that makes you melt even more than it usually does. he's been more touchy; there's not a single moment where his hands aren't on your body in any way, whether it be a hand on your knee, on the small of your back, or an arm around your waist. minho isn't often overt with his affection like that; he tends to dote on you in the privacy of your own loving bubble, away from anyone and everyone.

then, there's the softness that he's looking at you with in his chocolate brown eyes. it's warm, saccharine; it makes you feel like you two are the only people left in the room even though this is supposed to be someone else's big day.

"i love you," he says suddenly, brushing his nose against yours before leaning in just a tad closer to your lips, "you mean the world to me."

it's rare for minho to say things like this out of the blue. he's a man of few words after all.

he's full of surprises today, it seems.

"what's the occasion?" you ask with a coy smile.

"no occasion. just wanted to tell you that."

you close the distance, pressing your lips against his as his arms wrap themselves tighter around your body. "i love you too," you smile against him.

he mirrors your smile, and kisses you deeper. he's so sweet today, so openly loving with you even as your friends around you watch on.

you have an inkling that maybe, just maybe, he's been thinking the same things as you.

you stay in each other's arms until the song ends, then another one, then a couple more, just basking in soothing glow of love that's covering the air tonight. minutes pass with kisses shared, until it's finally time for the bouquet toss.

minho reluctantly lets you leave his side for the first time since the morning. his eyes follow you as you move to the front of the room, standing a comfortable distance away from the bride. you've never really been interested in this kind of things anyway; you're just doing it for the sake of participation.

everyone else is engrossed in what's about to happen, their eyes fixed on the bride and the peonies in her hands, but minho is only focused on you. you, who's trying to blend in with the group of people and undoubtedly praying that the bouquet doesn't make its way into your hands. you, whom he thinks looks so beautiful, all dolled up for the special occasion. you, who made his heart stutter when you walked into the room in your pretty dress and flashed him a bashful smile. (but who is he kidding? you make his heart want to give out and run away every single morning when he wakes up and sees you peacefully sleeping in his arms.)

just you. always only you.

you, you, you.

you don't hang in the moon in the sky. you are the moon, you are the stars.

minho watches you watch the bride as she counts down from 3, then flings the bouquet up in the air while everyone waits with bated breath. it's a mess of flailing arms from what he can tell, a couple of the bridesmaids practically fighting each other to try and grab the damn thing.

you try to make yourself smaller, to duck lower so that the others could have the honor instead of you. but when the flowers come hurling toward you, you have no choice but to raise your hands and catch it, lest you want to be lobbed in the face with a bouquet of peonies.

some of the people around you sigh frustratedly, but most of the guys around minho suddenly burst into loud cheers. they clap him on the back and shake him by the shoulders but still, he remains transfixed on you and your adorable wide-eyed expression. your parted lips and doe eyes blinking fast as a rosy flush creeps up your skin.

your eyes find him in an instant, and you both just stare at each other for a moment. he reckons that you're trying to gauge his reaction, because the room is now filled with excited squeals of congratulations and half-hearted jokes of how you and minho are going to be the next ones to get hitched.

you look uncertain, still frozen in place with your hands clutching the peonies.

but then he just smiles, and it makes you smile too, your body immediately relaxing as you give him a wave using the bouquet, your shoulders slumping slightly when you release a sigh.

to minho, it doesn't matter whether you caught the flowers or not; neither of you believes in that kind of stuff anyway. it doesn't matter because he's always known that he was going to marry you, that there's no one else he would rather spend the rest of his life with.

it doesn't matter because unbeknownst to you, he's already got a velvet box hidden somewhere in your shared home, with a gorgeous diamond ring inside just waiting for the day it can be put on your finger.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2024]

[kisakis-boyfriend]

could i get one wholr alphabet for boothill perhaps ? congrats as well !

Author's Note: Thank you!! One Boothill for ya, partner!

For our 3000 follower celebration! (CLOSED NOW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Very thoughtful after sex, even if you pounded him so hard that he feels like his circuits are fried. Boothill likes to play with your hair while you're calming down, and he'll hum a little tune sometimes too.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It's hard to say, but I think Boothill would be proud of his entire body?

Of yours, I feel like he would find your back and tummy attractive.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Boothill can no longer produce his own semen, but he can use artificial cum substitutes! I'm sure if he played around with his body enough, he could probably figure out how to gain complete control over exactly when and how much he can ejaculate too 🤤

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Boothill secretly wishes that he could cockwarm you more often. It doesn't matter what you do while you're inside of his tight hole, he just wants to feel connected to you for a couple hours, even if you do it while you nap and he recharges.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

While he's never had any practical experience, he knows what to expect for the most part. Doesn't stop him from getting a bit shy though.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

You're probably expecting me to say cowgirl… but actually Boothill prefers missionary. It seems basic, but he just likes the intimate feel and face-to-face position.

He won't say no to cowgirl if you promise to hold hands though. :P

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

The cyborg isn't afraid to joke around, but I think he'd make you laugh without even trying due to his unique swearing… it's hard not to chuckle when your balls are slapping against his ass, he's moaning like a whore, and then all you hear is "Fork me harder!" 😐 god forbid he blurt out "holy forkironi!" during sex…

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Unfortunately, he's hairless 😔 It's all smooth metal down there.

I believe that human Boothill would have a thick bush though… just saying.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

I think he would be very sweet and romantic, and he would appreciate a partner that's much the same.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Not a chronic masturbator, but Boothill definitely experiments with himself since cyborg parts are so varied and have the potential to be quite fun. I do think he would enjoy touching himself for you too, stroking or fingering himself… or both at once.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Wire play, spitting, heavy d/s dynamics (if that's considered a kink?), and probably hair pulling.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He prefers private spaces, but if you end up fucking in a public restroom somewhere, he's not going to be disappointed. Again, he's on the run. Sometimes you just don't have the luxury of a bedroom or a door that locks. Country boys make do~

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Grabbing his hips even innocently does the trick without fail. Kissing can also get Boothill turned on rather easily.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Using a knife (or anything sharp) inside his body, near his wiring or sensitive circuits.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

No preference, honestly. Oral is fun for him either way. Having his cheeks stuffed so full of your cock that his eyes cross, and crying your praises while you slurp his pussy or suck his soul out through his dick are equally as amazing. And Boothill is very skilled at giving head, just fyi~

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

I'd say Boothill prefers a faster pace, but not always rough necessarily. There are times when watching your cock slowly pull out of his hole, then suddenly slam back inside, turns him on immensely 🥴

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

An occasional quickie is good. Especially since he's always on the run, but you better make time for romantic sexy times too 😡

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Sometimes, yes. Trying new things with you often turns out very rewarding. As long as you're not doing anything that could truly endanger either one of you, then Boothill is game.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

That entirely depends on when you have sex and how long it's been since Boothill has recharged. If he's at full energy, then he can probably last a while and go for multiple rounds. Otherwise you may have to stop after one round.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh, yes. Boothill has a pretty large collection of toys, both common ones and specialty toys that he made himself for his unique body.

Technically, the interchangeable parts that he can install down there count as toys too; so, different dick attachments, pussy attachments, vibrating parts, even some things modeled after inhuman genitalia. Of course, he also owns normal dildos, vibes, fleshlights, etc etc. And yes, he definitely puts every last one to work/lets you use them on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Boothill is a bit of a flirtatious tease. He can figure out a few ways to get you going in a situation where you really shouldn't get turned on…

I can also picture him (in a slightly dominant display) riding you nice and slow, showing you how tightly his body grips your cock, and keeping that pace fast enough to make you feel good, but not enough to let you cum.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's definitely on the noisy side, making lots of grunts and calling you pet names throughout. A vocal bottom who has zero restraint in the bedroom/in private.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Boothill loves when you play with the wires inside of his chest cavity. Everything is so damn sensitive in there, and your soft human fingers feel heavenly when they caress the inside of his metal body and stroke the bundles of wires that keep him running.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Honestly, Boothill's genitals can be just about anything, thanks to his attachments. He can have a cock or a cunt, he can be tiny or monstrously huge, he can have a dragon dick if either of you want… the sky is the limit ☺️

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

A bit high, but can you really blame him? You work Boothill's body so good that he finds his mind drifting to scenes of you making love to him more frequently than ever before.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless he's on low energy when you're finished, he won't "fall asleep" (go into rest mode).

[minteagalaxea]

hot . line (p. one) | jy. uso

jey uso . part one

genre: smut (minors dni) content warnings: phone sex . (unknown) mutual masturbation . daddy kink . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . dirty talk . sexposition (ish) word count: 2.29k inspiration: the concept of a glucose guardian/sucrose supplier . the accountants in the john wick series . the notion of parasocial relationships . songs: good to me by seventeen (slowed and reverb) (x) . light a flame by seventeen (slowed and reverb) (x) note: thank you to @lov3rla03 and @spiicii for endorsing my brand of nonsense. dialogue isn't generally my strong suit, but i wanted to try something new!

oh, she hated this. she really hated that she was resorting to this of all things.

her fingers clutched the business card lex gave her, a black card with dark red foiling to mark the name of the organization and the phone number. it felt like a death knell as she lied in her room, screwing her eyes shut one she dialed the number and she heard the line pick up, honestly anticipating a robotic voice on the end, or some type of attempt at sultriness.

yet, the voice, a low contralto hum, was soothing on the other end as they greeted, “welcome to the bloodline. how may i direct your call?”

she wasn’t sure how to answer, and her silence only served to embarrass her further as she stammered and rambled, “i-i’m sorry…this is my first time, and i just…my friend gave me the card, and i don’t know if this is a good id—”

the voice on the other end offered a soothing laugh to carefully interrupt her. “it’s alright, my dear. i should have asked first. would you like to know how this works? my name is quynh.”

her stomach felt less heavy, knowing she was at least speaking to a real person, and she mused an assent.

“initially, the gentlemen prefer phone interactions, just to have a feel for you and for the sake of discretion. they aren’t recorded or monitored. you’re certainly allowed to choose when you’d like, as many of our clients do, so please don’t feel pressured to stick to one if that goes against your preferences. later on, if you’d like in-person interactions, those can be arranged, but they generally reserve that for more routine clients. there’s no hard and fast rule as to how many phone conversations are required, that’s between you and him. we charge by session, and tips are not necessary, but certainly appreciated—i hope that’s alright.”

she blinked, hearing the basic ground rules, and she found herself questioning why she was thinking that this was going to be some casual hotline-escort service, given the hefty price tag that suggested a luxury clientele. though, she considered, money wasn’t hard to come by for her in her line of work. and lex provided glowing reviews, so she supposed that it couldn’t.

“umm…which gentlemen am i allowed to choose from?” she inquired with trepidation, and easily as ever, quynh answered.

“there’s roman: big dom kind of man, baritone-bass voice. unfortunately, he isn’t accepting new clients, but he’s here if you need to discuss any issues or concerns regarding the others regarding safety or consent,” they started, tone carrying an undertone of secrecy and intimacy that had the woman curious, but unwilling to prod the stranger more about this.

“then, there’s solo: stoic, but certainly intense. a preference for those wanting to indulge more…rough fantasies. bondage is a big thing of his.” she shivered, and quynh laughed soothingly, as if sensing her discomfort, “don’t worry, bun. he has his own niche, and i wouldn’t recommend him for you since you don’t seem like the rough kinda girl. we want to provide a positive experience for all of our clients, but especially our new ones.”

the woman sighed in relief, continuing her relative silence as quynh exhausted their voice just to provide her knowledge and comfort, “perhaps on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, we have sami. sweet, a bit shy, kind of a switch, can be a bit more submissive—or at least, lean towards it, though i like to equate him to a service top. gives very nice praise, too, and has an excitable charm. cheerful, and expressive even through the phone.” there was a fondness there, and she answered.

“maybe…not too soft?”

“well, i think the last of our two gentlemen might be up your alley,” the receptionist mused with a fond chortle, “jimmy and jey.”

just hearing their names had a wave of comfort washing over her, like a hug delivered by this person on the other line.

“jimmy’s the more adventurous one, with ideas as creative as his degrading. not quite as mean as solo can be, but he’s up there. the bad boy twin, if i had to term him. he’s got some cute pet names, so it tends to even out.

“but, i’d recommend you to jey—tends to be better with first-timers. he’s not like sami in that he’s all sweet…but if it helps, he does like calling his female subjects things like ‘mami’. he’s got a big flirtatious streak; big praise thing with him, too.”

that was all it took for her to settle on him with an assertive tone, though really, she had a suspicion that quynh was saving jey for last, and after a few rings on the line, there was a new voice on the other end of the line.

“how’re you doing, mamas?”

fuck. one greeting and she was already wet, and she already had to scamper to grab her vibrator from the drawer in her nightstand in the most feeble stride at composure, all her confidence flying entirely out of the proverbial window.

the attempt, however, was generally fruitless with her stammering, “h-hi…i’m uh, not sure h-how…to start all of this.”

she earned a chuckle on the line, sounding endeared by her green nature to this entire thing as he answered, “that’s alright, mami. we can take it nice and slow, work you up real nice. why don’t you tell me a bit about you, baby?”

“wh-what do you wanna know?”

“maybe what got a sweet little thing like you out here on a phone with a man like me?”

her breath hitched, and she wasn’t sure what to say as she admitted, “i work a high-profile job…and i think i need someone to help me get the edge off. maybe i’m too pent up? work has been so busy.”

“yeah, mamas? need me to help you cum and sleep well tonight?”

shit, just the suggestion of that, the lick of his voice was already making her lose her mind, but she assented as she surreptitiously turned on the bullet, “y-yes, please.”

the man on the other end chuckled, “well, aren’t you a good girl for me, baby, using all your manners? gonna give you a reward if you behave like that for me."

ut, his voice took a sharper, biting edge subsequently. “or perhaps not, because i didn’t say you could touch yourself, did i?”

a chill ran down her spine, gasping as she realized that he did manage to hear the buzz of her very discreet, reportedly near silent vibrator. “i’m sorry, daddy…just wanted to take the edge off.” and holy shit, she didn’t expect herself to call him that.

“well, mamas, you better behave, or daddy won’t let you do any of those things.” his voice was teasing, but she hadn’t realized that calling him “daddy” would make his breath hitch in the way that elevated her reality that he’s just as turned on as her, no matter how fictitious it was from. perhaps it was that that made her more comfortable to play along, his voice and reactions spurring her on to indulge her fantasies a bit.

“i’m sorry, daddy. i promise i’ll behave now.”

“that’s right, mami. now, why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing?”

she wasn’t sure how to broach this one, but she tried her best as she spread her legs and reclined into her satin pillows, “nothing…just a big sweater, that’s all.”

that boded positively for her, she presumed, given the groan jey elicited as she heard a rustle of fabric on his end, “nothing underneath? naughty girl.

“but, i can’t blame you, mamas. you sound so stressed…no wonder you need your toy. so stressed your fingers won’t do it for you, huh? needa think about something bigger than your pretty little fingers?” he continued, just slightly more conversational with that heady undertone.

“yeah, daddy. wanna think about your fingers if i’m so lucky,” she admitted bashfully, surprising herself with her boldness as she got more comfortable. quynh was right—she would end up liking him.

jey’s choked groan on the other line brought prickles along her every nerve as he chuckled in approval in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure, “shit, mami, you can. you can put that vibrator and think about how daddy's fingers should be in your pretty cunt instead of some toy.”

she obeyed—how could she not when he sounded like sin and virtue in equal measure, and she pressed the bullet on her clit, letting it whir there as she tried to pay him some attention, too, as she settled into the rhythm of their dialogue. “are you thinking about me, daddy, about what i could do for you right now?”

“fuck, of course i am, mamas. thinking about the pretty words coming out of your prettier mouth.” there was a certain cadence there; she wasn’t sure how much of it was authentically him, given the line of work, but she wouldn’t push as she plunged the bullet inside of her.

jey’s groans and growls and the shifting on the line had her curiosity growing about if he was actually stroking herself as they both enabled each other’s pleasure, stoked the heat in their bodies. “daddy, wish it was your fingers right now,” she crooned in between her gasps of bliss, dragging her vibrator to a higher intensity, “i know it’d feel so much better.”

“shit, babygirl, keep talking like that, and i’m gonna wish it was your mouth on my dick instead with how sweet you’re being to me.”

“oh, daddy, i’d take care of you so well.” her voice began veering into a sense of dreaminess, loosened as she plunged her toy in and out of her depths to seek some relief, “won’t you let me help you? promise i’d take you all the way down and won’t gag.”

“i’m gonna hold you to that, mami. you’d look like a fucking masterpiece with your mouth full of dick. or with that pussy full of my dick, too,” he grunted, breathing labored over the phone as something rocked, perhaps the bed, perhaps an audio recording. she couldn’t care right now, determined to chase after that elusive release, “turn that shit up, baby, and fuck yourself faster.”

her moans filled the line as she did exactly as jey requested, pushing her damn bullet to the limits in ways she had never pushed it to the maximum setting. yet, here she was, her sounds louder and reverberating through the phone and overpowering the whir of the toy’s motor.

“fuck, daddy, wish it was your fingers—wish you could stretch me out all nice and wide and pretty for you,” she mewled, thrusting her vibrator in and envisioning it was a pair of thicker, more human digits instead, “my fingers won’t cut it. need you.”

jey’s grunting reached a fever pitch as he elicited a groan, something long and hypnotic as he said, “i know you need me, mamas. touch your clit, i’m gonna get you there.” she heard the frenetic rustle of the sheets on his line, haphazard like the bounce of his mattress while her free hand circled her neglected, now extremely sensitive pearl.

her voice took on a pleading, sultry tone as she begged in her wake, “daddy, come for me, you know you want to. you’d feel so good, so much better.” or, at least, it would assuage her ego assuming he was jerking off. she indulged the fantasy.

“i know, mamas. want you to come with me, can you manage that?’

she could, partially because holy fucking shit did he sound somehow even sexier. the fact that he asked dragged her to the edge with just a single question had her seeing stars, her moans nearly drowning out what she could hear on his end as his own sounds—a cacophony of grunts, groans and gravelly filth—prolonged that monstrous high that she had her still rubbing her clit and drenching her sheets for. she could only hope he was in a similar predicament.

in the moments of respite, to recompose, she heard jey’s breathless, effusive voice inquire, “how was that for your first time doing this, mamas?”

her laugh emerged choked, mind almost reeling from the gravel of dominance earlier to his current ease, “good. better than expected, actually. i, umm, hope you enjoyed it, too.”

“i definitely did, mami, don’t you worry.”

“and…” she started, deciding to impulsively blurt it outright before she lost her nerve, “could i…could we possibly do this again? this was…really nice, and i didn’t know i needed it.”

his warm, hearty chuckle was enough to balm her nerves, her worries. she wasn’t even sure why she was worried. technically, she was paying for his time—there weren’t meant to be strings. “of course. i’ll let quynh know for ya. let you get some rest.”

her own heart warmed at the consideration, and she swiped to send him the payment, with an exceedingly generous tip that significantly amplified the already-exorbitant (yet, justified) charge; she could only envision the look on his face, seeing the slightly cheeky note she added: for making me cum so hard, daddy ♡ - mami.

jey’s laugh sounded like heaven and hell, all incredulous and mirthful as he said, “same time next week, mamas?”

her lips wrapped around her chosen farewell like a promise as she responded, “looking forward to it, daddy.” and the call ended.

as far as she was concerned, he didn’t make a mess of his bed like her, a consummate professional through and through.

and if he did? well…that was his secret, not hers.

[robolvrr]

Hi! I’m 19 just to clarify in case of anything.

Can I request HCS for TFA Optimus and Megatron with a childish human female reader, that basically yaps a lot and is energetic asf?

I was also wondering if you could make a NSFW version too? Tysm☺️🙏💕

hey non! gladly. 🤖

nsfw under the cut.

all charged up! ⊰⁠⊹ฺ⚡

tfa! optimus & megatron headcanons for a childish/energetic reader (fem! human)

"no, don't touch that. wh -- no, don't touch that either! oh, by the allspark, hellooo!"

optimus prime

remember when i said optimus stressed out protecting humanity?

yeah, this was primarily the source of why.

he's always got tons of responsibility placed on his shoulders.

his team, for one, is always managing to get themselves into trouble and while he cares for them deeply, he's gonna start gaining faceplate dents like ratchet.

so when you get fumbled in the crew? he thinks that maybe karma is out to get him from some past transgression.

"can i touch that?"

"no."

"how about.. this!"

"wh-- no. are you trying to lose one of those things?"

"fingers?"

"not the point. it's an axe, not a toy."

he chides you just like everyone else out of love.

if he didn't care (which just isn't in his circuits, is there a rusted piston anywhere in that heroic frame?) he'd let you go wild.

when the threat of death isn't looming though?

finds your characteristics to be rather charming. he is after all familiar with bee and the twins and sari.

you have a strange way of encouraging him to relax, believe it or not. remind him life isn't just work and balancing the universe in his servos.

when he isn't in a mood, he likes to listen to you ramble.

you have a unique perspective. like how you talk to him for hours about how you thought ghosts were real and ask silly questions about his culture like "do you guys eat rocks?"

he goes to you the most to consult about earth.

hyperfixations? he may not understand a lick of yours or just what "my little pony was and how it changed the internet for years to come", but he lets you animatedly describe every thought on every inch of your brain.

let's you sit on his shoulders.

similar to your planet, you've gotten him warmed up to you.

"just how much longer do you plan on prattling, little one?"

megatron

he's mean.

i mean, what do you expect from an galactic warlord?

not to say he doesn't find amusement in the behavior. his lackeys frequently argue and get into ridiculous situations and arguments on a cycles basis.

however, he doesn't like organics. given his predicament, fiending without the power of a frame to push his narratives for so long builds resentment.

at first he finds you an absolute nuisance. you were really a comment away from having shockwave get a hold of you instead.

he's kidnapped you from the autobots because similar to that meddlesome doctors offspring, they clearly hold high regards for you.

you just didn't stop talking.

yes, you got the large glass jar treatment.

yes, he did rattle it once when you asked him if "decepticons sounded like band name."

when he's feeling boredom, he'll demand you try to say anything interesting.

he holds little regard to your feelings. though he does find the need, almost craving, for you to constantly be restless.... somewhat entertaining.

think of how one looks at a mangy mutt. (isn't he a gentlemech?!)

nsfw.

optimus prime

"hahhh.. hff. just h-how long can you keep up this pace, haha!?"

you have the libido of a bunny.

optimus learns the hard way, when you first start to get intimate.

you're eager -- you both are -- but he finds your wandering hands to be almost overwhelming as you just can't keep still.

you ask him lots and lots of questions. how big is he? can you lick his valve? are those fluids toxic? do you need to get protection?

his helm is hot to the touch. he ends up putting his digit in your mouth as a distraction.

interfacing with you is never slow. it's why he has to concentrate every control filter to not slamming into you when you claw at his array and whine at him to stop being a bully.

he's about to correct you but of course, you're talking. his audials are close to setting on fire.

you shove yourself on his spike and he bites his dermas hard, because you're just so eager and he's way too big. just the tip is enough to create a bulge at your mound and suddenly, his intake feels very, very dry.

you're so talkative. too talkative.

"ha... mmn! your spike is so, so good! i-i can't believe i'm doing this! sex with a giant. ahn! robot!!! this is the best day of my life!"

his optics are burning and bright. your excitement drips down his shaft.

when the compliments get to be too much, he ends up grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind you, bouncing your body against his hips.

he silences you a lot with kisses. not out of annoyance (though sometimes you do get too loud and he's not trying to risk waking up the entire base), but because you fluster him so damn bad.

when he overloads and you're squealing, he lifts you up just to see the sticky transfluid roll down your ankles.

".... another round?"

"another!?"

megatron

"not so chatty now, are you little one?"

megatron's cruelty does not stop at the berthroom.

his way of dealing with your nonstop buzzing? is to simply frag it out of you.

it's painfully indulgent. you're the size of nothing compared to him, a behemoth of a being outside your comprehension. he treats you like a sleeve.

you ask the stupid notion if maybe he needed to get his frustration out in a more "fun" way.

then maybe he wouldn't be so gloomy all the time!

the look he gives is terrifying. that smile isn't helping either....

all that energy and innocent glee? he plans on putting to good use.

now, he finds your cherub nature enchanting. how you whine and chirp out silly protests, huffing how he's just a "big, bad meanie" and you were gonna "make him regret it, so help it!"

"yesss, yesss. cry harder, little human."

takes you from behind so he can stick a single digit in the pocket of your cheek. you loll your tongue out in a way he finds appealing and stupid.

when you go on rambles amidst his planning, primarily when you are bored and lonely, don't be surprised if he opens his panels at your chin and pops it in between your lips.

"am... i... ffff.. a-am i gonna get pregnant with your little ro--"

"don't finish that imbecilic question unless you want this to be the last time, girl."

megatron's human concubine. there's a first time in history for everything, after all.

deep down? he doesn't want you to change a bit. he rather likes breaking you down.

[canines-crown]

Being in a human body can suck, but for me, that's mostly cause it traps me in human society

I actually quite enjoy my human body as is, and wanted to make a post about it cause I think it's important to spread positivity about our physical attributes!

One thing I think is really cool about humans is for how long they can run. They may not be the fastest, but a trained human's stamina is basically never ending, and they wear their prey down due to it, almost like a hyena. Something also quite hyena-esk is how absurdly strong the human jaw is relative to body size. In a fight, a human can rip someone else's throat out rather easily. And our teeth tear through flesh and break through bones!

A human bite is also incredibly dangerous due to how many bacteria we have in our mouths.

Humans can digest a TON of stuff!! They eat almost everything they come across, which is really cool in my opinion...

Then there's human hands. An absolute masterpiece of evolution. Almost no other animalscan grab things like a primate does! And I don't just mean picking stuff up. Go to your kitchen and get a glass, some cutlery, maybe a bowl... And just be amazed by how your fingers wrap around the tools, how you can hold all those things with just one limb.

Isn't that so amazing?

Humans are also excellent climbers. You may feel like you're slow on top of trees when compared to squirrels or other monkeys, but look at all the other species! You are one of the beings BEST equipped on the entire planet when it comes to climbing!

Our shoulder's joints differ from most other species', and allow us to hang from branches, swinging back and fourth easily. That's so cool....

I guess what I'm trying to say is... There's lots of cool stuff you can do in a human body.

If you're physically a human it doesn't make you any less cool.

Biologically you're literally an extremely intelligent ape that hunts its prey down in packs until it just collapses, with incredibly dangerous jaws, never-ending stamina, a really strong sense of smell, and overall one of the most adaptable beings on the entire planet.

Many species didn't make it through the ice age. But homo sapiens did.

You're badass

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Divisa; Five

Pairing(s); OT4 (5 possible 👀) x non- mc reader

^ each ending for a different LI and one ending with all

Word count; 2,285

Themes; reality hopping, alternative universe (same as in-game, but things are a little different!), doppelganger, multiple endings, slow-burn

Notes; Second update of the day 😤 my Tumblr is still acting wack, so this probably won't be edited much (italics and such), but it shouldn't hinder the reading experience!

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

Well damn, there go your plans for the day, but at least you found a job! That's something to be proud of.

Baby steps…

You shake your head as you step outside of the Sugar Spoon cafe. Baby steps are better than nothing.

As for what to do with the rest of your day…you could stop by the Nest once again to look for Ezekiel and then after that you could head to Rafayel's art exhibit – maybe get that painting of your mom from him.

Hopefully you wouldn't have to use your Evol again. You were still feeling a little lethargic from the last usage. Your gaze drifts down to your hand and you flex it into a fist, watching the red and black energy crackle and swirl across your knuckles.

This had to be Sylus's Evol. But you're not exactly sure if you stole it from him or if it's just being borrowed for a short time. You hope for the latter, considering if you actually stole Sylus's Evol…he might kill you.

Let's say you borrowed it.

Yeah. That would ease your mind, even just a little bit.

Think of it like…Rogue from X-Men. You borrow powers with a single touch.

You could probably try it out on Rafayel later.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you begin to look around at all the people walking around Azure Square, the hoard of them waiting outside Philo for bouquets…

You fix your mask over your nose and start your short walk over to The Nest. Thankfully Azure Square was akin to an outlet mall, everything was close by and basically modeled around the picturesque water fountain in the center.

The bell above the door chimes as you step inside and you make your way over to the bar, getting comfortable on one of the plush barstools.

As you drum your fingertips against the marbled counter, a bartender makes his way over to you, “Would you – “

“Two red wines.” You hear a voice from behind you, your shoulders tensing up at how familiar the deep voice sounds, but you refuse to turn around.

…Maybe if you just ignore him, he'll go away…

“Are you trying to ignore me, sweetie?” You felt a light tapping on your shoulder and clear your throat, “Of course not, Carrion. I'd never ignore you. But I did hope you'd leave me alone…” You turn your head to look at the man behind you, giving him a once over before you sigh.

“Are you upset because I – “

“Because you ignored me? Only an insecure man would be upset over that.” Sylus crosses his arms over his chest and – while he may be hot, if he cuts you off one more time…

“I was going to say for borrowing your Evol.” You hum, lazily lifting your finger up in the air. A dark energy swirls around your finger before it wraps around his tie, yanking his body toward you until his chest is pressed against your back. “But…only an insecure man would be upset over that.” You throw his words back at him as the two wine glasses are set down in front of you.

You feel his breath against your ear as he scoffs, “Oh? So this is what you can do?” He muses, brushing the energy away from him as he takes a seat next to you at the bar. “Well isn't that intriguing…” His fingers rap against the marbled counter before he lifts his glass up, swirling the crimson liquid in a circular motion. Then, he tilts his head back, emptying the glass all at once.

As much as you'd love to have your drink…The mask stays on.

“Drink mine too.” You jerk your head in the direction of your glass. “I'm looking for someone, can't afford to drink and miss them, ya know?” When you lock eyes with Sylus, you swear you saw his right eye glow, but you quickly look away before anything can happen.

“Hmm…” Sylus tsks. “Who caught your eye? They can't be any better than me, that's for sure.” He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm.

“I'm not looking for anyone like that.” You shake your head, however you almost fall out of your seat as another person enters the bar.

Silver hair…blue eyes…

Nope.

No.

You quickly turn back to face the bar, clearing your throat and deciding to use Sylus if he's offering. “I'm looking for Ezekiel. I was told he spends most of his time here, drinking.”

“The washed up hunter?” Sylus nods his head, his gaze drifts from Xavier and then back to you. “He caused quite the stir a few months ago, so he might be a bit harder to find.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head to the side, brows knitting together. “What happened?”

“He ran up to a famous hunter in tears, claiming she was his daughter.” The white haired man shrugs. “But then after she spoke, he left. So everyone just assumes he's going a bit crazy. You still sure you want to find him?”

Gemini.

He must've seen her…You felt your chest tightening as your gaze drifts to the floor. You could only imagine the pain of seeing someone who looks like your daughter, only for it not to be her. Especially a man who has been grieving for both his wife and daughter for over twenty years.

You clear your throat and firmly nod your head, “Of course I'm sure. That's my dad, I can't just…”

“Back corner of the room.” Sylus jerks his chin in the direction he barked out. “All alone, drinking. It's sad, really.”

But before you can walk away, you feel his fingertips brush against your shoulder. “I'd be careful saying you're his daughter, though. Y/n is trouble and, if you look like her, that's also trouble for you.”

Hmm…since Sylus is offering up information like that… “I may look like her, but we’re two entirely different people, trust me. The trouble that’s after her would be disappointed to find me instead.” It’s definitely not a lie. Anyone from Ever or the other love interests would be disappointed to find you instead. You don’t have an Aether Core nor do you have a Resonance Evol. “But before I go…” You spin back around to grab Sylus’s hand, smiling with your eyes as you speak, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be borrowing your Evol for a little bit longer.”

Then, you turn your head back to the corner of the room. Eyes set on the man seated on a bar stool, throwing back glasses of rum and coke. You throw your hand up as you walk away from Sylus and make your way over to Ezekiel - your father. You take a seat next to him at the bar, gently tapping the marbled counter with your fingers.

You brush aside the thought that Xavier, or even Sylus, could see you and you tug down your mask under your chin. Then, you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. You take a deep breath and lightly tap his shoulder. “Excuse me…” When he finally looks toward you, you give him a tiny wave, “Hey…”

“Look, I don’t - “ Ezekiel pauses, squinting his eyes at you as he wonders if maybe he did drink too much tonight. A groan slips from his lips and he rubs his eyes. “I think I drank too much…”

“Does this look familiar to you?” You take the polaroid out of your wallet and slide it over to him. “I’m honestly just as confused as you are.” You nervously chew on your bottom lip and decide to order yourself something sweet to drink since this is the longest you’ve left your mask down all day. “Are you really…?” He has a hopeful look on his face and the smallest of smiles tugs at his lips, “How’s M/n (Mom’s name) doing?”

His question really tugs at your heartstrings, because it’s the very first thing he asks. The first thing he worries about is your mother. A small smile tugs at your lips and you lightly shake your head, “She doesn’t really talk about it with me. She never remarried, she always seemed a bit sad, but I assumed it was because you were dead…Not separated like this. How did this even happen?”

No, seriously. That was an important question. You were so confused how this game world was somehow real and even how your mother got here. You assume it has something to do with your necklace, the reality stone or whatever it was called, but you’re still not sure of the logistics of it all.

“Your mother didn’t know much about it either. Though, she knew more than you since she told me it could only transport two people between realities. I did some more research after she was gone and I found that it’s supposed to help people find their soulmates no matter where they are.” Ezekiel says, but his voice is filled with confusion. Even he doesn’t fully understand it.

“Then, why didn’t she go back with you?” You ask, your hand subconsciously reaching up to grab the necklace that was under your shirt. “She was pregnant with you.” He sighs, running his index finger around the rim of his cup, “We were going to stay here and raise you in Linkon, but when a Deepspace Tunnel opened up in our home…All I could think about was keeping you both safe, so I told her to leave without me.”

“And…do you know why there’s another me running around because that’s really freaking me out.” It was a lot to take in, honestly. The fact that Linkon, that this universe, was the one you were supposed to be born in and that your mother had to be separated from her love to keep you both safe.

“Well…The only idea I have is, since your mother was pregnant with you when she left, the universe created another you to make up for the fact that you left, but the universe couldn’t make you both identical since they had no idea what you would look like and that’s how she came to be.” Ezekiel rubs his temples as if he felt a headache coming on. “I’m not entirely sure, and it’s dizzying to think about.”

That made the most sense to you as well. If you were supposed to be born here, you were already written in this universe, so it makes sense to create another you since you’re not here. But were you really that important to this world to where they needed to make a second you? But also if this stone sent you to a universe where your soulmate would be…That means your grandma really was engaged to a crown prince in another universe, and that you would find your own soulmate here. You’d bet your right arm that you were also the first in your family to be sent to the same universe as your parent, because that’s also a weird coincidence. What was so important in Linkon that two generations of your family were sent here?

“Well, good thing I still have the stone.” You’re thankful you haven’t taken it off and lost it, but you shouldn’t count your chickens before they hatch. “Oh, actually! Do you want to head to Azure Square with me and pick up a painting of Mom?” You unlock your phone to shoot a text to Rafayel about meeting up to collect the canvas.

You; “Hey! This is Comet from the Nest. Could I pick up that painting today in Azure Square?”

Rafayel; “?!”

“duh! U can pick it up today”

“my showcase is today but i can always sneak out for U”

Oh shoot, you forgot Auntie Taryn mentioned he had a showcase today. You pondered the idea of going in to pick it up, but there was always a risk of running into Gemini…

You; “It’s fine! I can always pick it up tomorrow, I don’t want to bother you”

Rafayel; “dun worry about it”

“U could never bother me”

“ill b out in a sec, gotta sneak away from thomas”

You put your phone back into your pocket and pull your mask up over your nose. “We’re good! He should be able to meet us in Azure Square in a few.” Ezekiel pauses for a moment, finally taking in what you said. “Wait, you mean the painting of your mother I had commissioned a few years ago from Rafayel? You have that artist’s number? How long have you been here again?” He raises a brow, suddenly feeling really worried about his daughter. You’ve only been here for a day or two and you’re already close enough with a famous artist that he’s willing to run out of his exhibit to run an errand for you?

“It’s not like that, Dad.” You lightly shove his shoulder with a small laugh. “I sold some of grandma’s antique coins to him in exchange for her painting.” You decide to leave out the fact that you also met the leader of Onychinus, because he’d probably have a heart attack on the spot. The two of you stand up and get ready to walk out of the Nest, but you feel someone catch you by the wrist.

You immediately tense up, feeling the now familiar energy swirling around your palm as you get ready to fight whoever grabbed you, but when you turn your head, you freeze.

Why the hell was Xavier stopping you? And why did he have that look on his face? That one sickeningly adorable expression that reminded you of a kicked puppy.

Taglist; @ladyparamount , @the-love-of-my-life96 , @rui-drawsbox , @deputy-videogamer , @yoongi-tunes , @fallenfromgrxce , @msturi2u , @myheartfollower, @schwnapps , @m00nchildwrites , @black-girl-anime-lover , @shypotatoes013-blog , @mitzkooni , @stxrrielle , @yournextdoorhousewitch , @lifeisnotyahoo , @hon3yydew , @lavvytae, @snowdynasty

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #312

1. I’m looking for this fanfic. I don’t remember much about it but it was a very short one that I read years ago. Here are the two thing I remember: 1. Aziraphale and Crowley cuddling on either a couch or a tiny bed in the bookshop that can barely accommodate both of them but Crowley doesn’t mind. 2. Aziraphale keeps promising Crowley that he’s going to get a better (or bigger) bed but he keeps procrastinating. 3. The fic ends with a line that ends with the sentiment "Aziraphale could be slow, but he always kept his word". I think it may be explicit or mature but I’m not 100% sure. I’ll be forever grateful if we can find it 😭 - anon

2. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where Crowley and God are siblings and Crowley had his own "test garden" dimension in heaven where he created things like dragons and unicorns and stuff and his true form is actually a dragon, and he has his own army in heaven that still answers to him only and there is another war between the archangels on one side and God and Crowley on the other with Aziraphale as Crowleys soul mate. And I'm pretty sure it was a "Crowley was Raphael" story. And I'm pretty sure God and Crowley were a single entity before the beginning in this fic. And I can't find it anymore - @zanylawyerdeanbakery

3. Hello, so happy to have just found you! What a wonderful service you're providing, thank you! I'm looking for a specific fic, (it might've still been a WIP?), but I feel fairly certain it has disappeared/ been taken down. I hope you can prove me wrong! Rated E, human Sex Workers fic, both Aziraphale and Crowley work at a brothel each with their own assigned room they work in. They fall for each other, but the employer doesn't allow coworkers to date. The one chapter I vividly remember that sets this apart from similar fics was that a client books a threesome, and wants those two. I think the client asks to watch A&C undress each other (though that tidbit might be from a different one, not positive). Ultimately, they have the client on all 4's between them, I think Crowley is giving him anal from behind, client is giving oral to Aziraphale. Meanwhile A & C are making major eyes at each other and it's like a sex-by-proxy thing happening. After the client leaves the room, they're in dressing gowns, and they finally give in to their overwhelming attraction and kiss each other. For a very very long time (because kissing isn't allowed w/ clients and they both find it's the thing they crave the most). (This part I might be confusing with another fic, but they might also be neighbors? And they each have teenage kids. I think Adam is Crowley's little brother or adopted kid, and Pepper is Aziraphale's sister's kid who he lives with, something like that. The kids' friendship gives A&C some plausible deniability to hang out.) If you're able to find it, I'll be so grateful! (My AO3 search skills leave much to be desired!) Whether you find it or not, or answer this or not, I hope you all have a very lovely day! <3 - @laudaddysmitten

4. Hi! Im looking for a fic I read in 2023(?), I don't remember much but i know: It's set during season 2. Beelzebub is more honest with Crowley when asking about Gabriel. It's in Crowleys POV and basically a more in-depth fic about Crowleys and Aziraphales reaction to ineffable bureaucracy/boxfly. I feel like I'm going insane trying to find this, so thank you in advance! :)) - @bru1sed-apple

5. Hellooo! First I want to thank everyone here for this account, seriously, it's a blessing! Secondly, I've been looking for a fic I read, probably about a year ago but I can't seem to find it but I also don't remember a whole lot about it. It's similar to (I'd rather be) in the palm of your hand, which I read around the same time. All I remember is that Crowley made webcam videos, but I'm pretty sure that this one was a human AU because what I remember from the entire thing is that after the video was filmed, Crowley went on to take some pictures for later when everything was "still fresh" and he didn't have to fake it with coconut oil. I know that's really not a lot of information but that's all I can remember for some reason. Thank you so much in advance! - @flerken-is-not-a-cat

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[anarchytaco]

NSFW Alphabet for Art the Clown

A couple other people have done this already, but here's my take on it.

(18+ only)

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, gore, torture, one mention of n*crophilia, a teeny tiny hint at c*prophilia, you might think I'm a little insane

This is geared towards AFAB people.

As strange as it may seem, the reader character is consenting to these acts.

Whether you love or hate the Terrifier franchise, THIS POST IS NOT FOR EVERYONE. You’ve been warned.

Aftercare

There's not a whole lot of it. At the very most, Art will loosen up the restraints, if there are any. Even this, however, isn't a guarantee. He prefers to leave you in a state of "total ruin"; your scars, injuries, and extreme exhaustion get left untreated.

Body Part

His teeth allow for him to spread "joy" with his big smile, in addition with his ability to bite into your flesh. As for what is attached to you, Art favors your nose. It will absolutely be booped.

Cum

Semen will be inside you in some manner: vagina, anal, whatever new holes are created, etc. If it ends up in your mouth, then you must swallow.

Dirty Secret

There are no secrets.

Experience

Art knows the basics of giving pleasure, such as the clitoris location and how to stimulate it. It's unknown where he obtained these skills, but he definitely knows how to use them.

Favorite Position

It's when you're stripped and hung upside down with your legs spread open. He immerses himself in this sense of control, as you permit him to do whatever he wants.

Goofy

Art smiles and "laughs" as he tears you into pieces. He'll also honk his clown horn when he squeezes your tits and ass.

Hair

There's two possibilities here: his nuts are either as bald as his head, or the bush is absolutely wild. There is no in between.

Intimacy

His passion increases as the minutes pass; he immerses himself in your body and fluids.

Jack Off

Using a detached body part (head, leg, torso) as a flesh light would be Art's usual take on masturbation.

Kink

Art kinks generally revolve around a type of torture and gore; he engages in his own form of "BDSM". For instance, he'll handcuff you to the bedposts, then whip you with his cat o' nine tails. Another kink of his connects back to what he did in that pizza shop bathroom...

Location

His favorite places to fuck are within old, abandoned buildings, and especially the old carnival. He doesn't mind playing around in the laundromat either.

Motivation

Full-on clown cosplays, both sexy and unsexy, are one way to get him excited. What really gets Art going, though, is a fresh laceration. The sight of one makes him curious: how deep is it, and can he make it deeper?

NO

There may be a hint of gentleness in the beginning, but overall, Art will not go soft on you.

Oral

Blowjob sessions with him grabbing your head, forcing your mouth open, and having you deep throat his cock until you nearly pass out (and you sometimes do). When you're the one on the receiving end, Art starts out by teasing you with these long, agonizingly slow licks. Then, he'll start sucking on your clit in a rhythmic fashion, eventually inserting a couple fingers to match with the rhythm.

Pace

Art takes his time, but as previously mentioned, he'll be rough throughout; his favorite type of pain to inflict is one that's long-lasting.

Quickie

Quickie's with Art are rare. He prefers to savor his sexual urges for the perfect time and place. In his opinion, waiting enhances the experience, since he's finally able to release these bottled up emotions boiling within.

Risk

As a man of creativity, Art is always coming up with new ways to mess around. However, he leans away from submissive roles in order to avoid a scenario where you have the advantage. That principle may be thrown out the window, though, once you start referring to yourself as "mommy".

Stamina

Sessions as a whole tend to be about an hour long at least, so there will usually be just one round at a time. In terms of how long until Art ejaculates, it averages to about fifteen minutes (when you're directly stimulating his penis, of course).

Toy

You'll be faced with whatever tools and weapons Art has in his garbage bag, in addition to the recent project he's crafted on his workbench.

Unfair

There will lots of teasing from him, especially during the first ten minutes of sexy time. He loves how much it makes you beg, and also how loud you whine from denied orgasms.

Volume

Bro is obviously silent the entire time.

Wild Card

Imagine yourself hanging upside down (refer to his favorite position), blood rushing to your head as Art licks your pussy, digging his fingernails into your ass cheeks

X-Ray

It's pretty thick, reaching to around 5 or 6 inches.

Yearning

His sex drive is slightly above average, but he mostly relieves the tension through his acts of murder.

ZZZ

As I sort of stated at the beginning, he leaves you alone after sex. In other words, he doesn't fall asleep next to you. His sleep schedule is likely terrible anyway, due to how late he stays up.

[cinematicnomad]

cinematicnomad's steddie fic recs

i've been reading a lot of stranger things steddie fics over the past 2 months so i've decided it's time for me to make one of my requisite fic reclists, both for myself, and for anyone else interested. here's my usual reminder that i prefer lengthy fics, and that i am also a sucker for canon divergent fics (which basically all of these are bc eddie is alive post s4 obviously unless it's a time loop fic—if i tag a fic as "canon divergent eddie lives", assume this means the fic is compliant through the end of s4 except for eddie's death) and happy endings. all these fics are complete, though it's possible that if the fic is part of a series the series may not be complete. i will try to always add appropriate tags!

T = teen M = mature Ex = explicit NR = not rated

bracing for impact by writersagainstwritersblock (1/1 | 9k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; wayne POV; steve has bad parents; outsider POV

wayne watches as eddie falls hopelessly in love, with of all people, goddamn steve harrington.

it's not a big deal by aidaronan (1/1 | 11k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; mutual pining; angst w/ a happy ending

eddie survives, but his entire life is locked away in the upside down forever (his books, his dnd stuff, his guitar.) everything that wasn't on eddie when steve carried him into the ER, gone. so naturally steve starts giving him things. handing eddie back those little outward markers of who he is.

you oughta know by thisapplepielife / @thisapplepielife (1/1 | 12k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; future fic; angst w/ a happy ending

days stretch out, long and slow. steve tries to ignore the only thing he’s sure of: eddie ran. he ran from him, ran from all of them. or: steve's having a rough couple of years, thanks for asking. compliant fic: i'm brave, but i'm chicken shit (1/1 | 13k+ | M) eddie POV; eddie centric; 1990s; recreational drug use

introduced me to my mind by alchemystique (2/2 | 16k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; mutual pining; getting together; happy ending

"eddie," wayne says, and eddie fights the urge to scream, or laugh, or cry. "i'm not running," eddie tells him, even though that is a fucking lie. "you should call him more," wayne says, and eddie rubs the meat of his palm into his eyeballs until he sees stars. doesn’t think about what 'call him more' means in context—do they talk about him? series: sweet leaf (4/4 | 16k+ | T) outsider POVs; rockstar!eddie; period typical homophobia

steve harrington's guide to making it work by eggbertsheggbert (8/8 | 23k+ | NR) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; bad harrington parents; steve is kicked out; angst w/ a happy ending

steve harrington has never been good at asking for help. especially not since he started being seen as the protector of the group. so, when his parents kick him out after discovering his sexuality, he figures he can get extra shifts, save up, and get a place before anyone realizes anything is wrong. join steve as he takes on the weight of the world. he's got it figured out, he's definitely NOT struggling, and—above all else—he can make this work.

the power of love by lacerta26 (8/8 | 27k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; outsider POVs; series; post-canon; coming out

jim gets mostly to the end of the house and then someone speaks. "i came out here for a smoke," eddie, his voice low, hushed. "yeah, but this is much more fun," steve now, almost laughing but not quite. * jim had only stepped out for a cigarette when he learns something new about steve and eddie and if this was one of the boys bringing home a girl, he’d have the exact stern words to make sure they were being a gentleman but his usual shovel talk isn't quite going to cut it because he has to let them know it's fine, more than fine, for them to be who they are, here. 

hands where i can see them by SolarMorrigan / @solarmorrigan (12/12 | 29k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; multiple POV; established relationship; emotional hurt/comfort

eddie thinks that he and steve have a good thing going; being friends with benefits is honestly a pretty sweet deal. steve is a great friend, the sex is great, everything is great. except for the fact that steve hadn't realized they were only friends with benefits. except for the fact that steve thought they were in a relationship. except for the fact that eddie doesn't realize how much he'd valued that relationship until it's gone (and he's trying his damnedest to get it back).

it's alright if you love me by alivingfire (7/7 | 31k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; outsider POV; character study; 5+1; steve-centric; hurt/comfort

"oh, haven't you heard? steve harrington doesn't cry." in which steve harrington breaks up, breaks a few hearts (including his own), breaks free, and finally gets to break down. or: 5 times steve didn't cry, and 1 time he did.

off the beaten path by pukner (6/6 | 34k+ | M) canon divergent post s3; alternating POV; queer awakenings; cliffhanger ending (must read sequels)*

"i'm saying this," says steve, loudly, cutting him off, "because someone i love is, uh, gay. and i love them, but like, platonically. and also me calling you a queer might've been a little hypocritical, in retrospect." there is a long, baffled pause. "what," says jonathan, "steve, are you—are you coming out to me?" steve frowns, "oh, yeah, i guess i am. cool." or, post season 3, steve manages to figure out that he's bisexual, despite his best efforts to repress it, comes out to robin and jonathan byers of all people, and figures himself out. also, there's a cute guy who might be actually insane running the kids' dnd club and he's got his eye on him. and his bandana. too bad eddie munson hasn't had a similar revelation. he's still under the impression that he's a straight man obsessing over steve harrington for normal, extremely heterosexual reasons. OR: steve figures out he's bi before eddie figures out that he's gay. eddie still manages to fall first. series: *off-script (2/2 | 67k+ | Ex) eddie POV; internalized homophobia; mutual pining

a tattoo is worth a thousand words by writersagainstwritersblock (18/18 | 40k+ | M) canon divergent post s3; eddie POV; babysitter steve harrington; getting together

"ambidextrous, princess, it’s what makes me so good with my hands." eddie wiggled his fingers. "you mean for guitar?" steve asked, completely missing the innuendo, and also nearly knocking eddie flat at the thought that steve harrington knew he played guitar. "you stalking me or something?" eddie asked. steve frowned. "uh, no, but your band played in the middle school talent show, it's pretty hard to forget a thirteen year old screaming death metal before his voice dropped." eddie almost laughed at that. almost. "you saying i'm unforgettable, princess?" "if that’s how you want to take it, munson." eddie realized this was turning towards something far more dangerous than taunting a boy known for getting into fights, like flirting with a very, very straight boy known for getting into fights. OR after the events of season three steve shows up on eddie's doorstep asking for a tattoo... and then keeps showing up much to the dismay of eddie's traitorous heart. sequel: visible ink (12/12 | 57k+ | M) outsider POVs; firefighter!steve; tattoo artist!eddie; found family

the one in which a time loop is fucking exhausting. by badpancake (12/12 | 41k+ | T) canon compliant; time loop; steve POV; temporary character death; suicide; angst w/ a happy ending

it’s the first time in a while that he doesn’t know what comes next. he’s dove into the water hundreds of times. screamed as his flesh was torn apart, heard master of puppets in the distance and held back tears. felt max’s cold, small hand in his as she laid in the hospital bed. there are things that always happen, no matter how hard he tries: el doesn’t arrive in time. eddie dies. max is put in a coma. steve fails. they lose. "steve, how many loops have you been through?" his head is nodding, and his eyes are watery, and eddie has approached him like a spooked animal. "i lost count.” AKA: the one where steve harrington is stuck in a time loop, and eddie munson is really fucking hard to save, or: fuck volume 2, these bitches are in love.

steve the reluctant by rachtay13 (7/7 | 46k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; oblivious steve; steve plays dnd

robin raised her brows.  "you know what, harrington?" she nodded her head. "yeah, you know what? i dare you to make a friend. i dare you." read for steve in denial, excessive d&d gameplay, robin as a mermaid, and eddie's glinting rings. as one reader said "the most frustratingly dense version of steve i have ever read and i am HERE for it."

you're so fucked up and i love it by genericfanatic (18/18 | 54k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; eddie POV; accidental relationship; hurt/comfort

eddie munson hated steve harrington. he'd apparently saved his life, dragged him out of hell and got him to a hospital while nancy rushed behind him working on alibis and half truths to prove he couldn’t have murdered chrissy. and here he was, doomed to live for the foreseeable future, in debt forever to steve fucking harrington. but eddie really hated how normal steve fucking was.

where do we go from here? (quietly fading away) by allandmore (9/9 | 60k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; angst w/ a happy ending; non-graphic violence

"what's scarier than saving the world? figuring out what to do afterwards. i get it," eddie turns on his side, one shoulder on the wall, and grips the front of steve's shirt. His face is so close steve can feel the warmth of his breath. "but we've got time now. right, steve? we bought us all time. time to figure all our shit out. isn’t that what matters?" OR steve harrington struggles to find purpose after the upside down. (but maybe purpose doesn't have to be big. maybe it's helping dustin navigate sophomore year. maybe it's reminding robin to send in college admission letters. maybe it's eddie munson. maybe).

star of the masquerade by glorious_spoon (6/6 | 64k+ | M) canon compliant; eddie POV; time loop; temporary character death; angst w/ a happy ending

steve jerks awake, sitting up so quickly that robin almost topples over and staring wildly around the room. when his gaze lands on eddie, he blanches visibly. "oh, shit," he mutters. "come on, no. come on. not again." "harrington?" eddie asks slowly. he does not love the way that steve is staring at him right now. he really doesn’t. steve looks like he’s staring at a ghost, a bloodied monster, like eddie is something that should not exist in the light of day. "you good, dude?"

one size fits all by entanglednow (10/10 | 65k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; fake/pretend relationship; misunderstandings; slow burn

steve just wanted to do something nice for a friend, he doesn't mean to get eddie's ring stuck on his finger, and it's definitely not his fault that everyone he knows is jumping to conclusions.

renegades (leave a light on) by queerofthedagger (13/13 | 66k+ | Ex) canon divergent s2; eddie POV; road trip; slow burn; strangers to lovers

eddie doesn't expect to get into trouble for his recent drug business, although he probably should have. even less does he expect steve harrington of all people to save his sorry ass with a nail bat that looks awfully at home in his hands. least of all, though, does he expect harrington to insist on skipping town for a while to avoid the fallout. the winter holidays of '84 seem intent on proving him wrong on all fronts. thrown into a spontaneous road trip-slash-cut-and-run to san francisco—just until things back home blow over, munson—eddie has all the time in the world to confront such questions as: why would harrington care to help him? why does he wake up from nightmares more often than not? and, maybe most importantly, why is the former king so ready to leave hawkins behind on a whim? or: idiot boys make impulsive idiot decisions, and along the way—reluctantly but inevitably—they fall in love. a story of endless winter streets, finding family, and leaving home to find a new one.

falling without caution (people watching) by super_skam310 (10/10 | 66k+ | NR) canon divergent eddie lives; eddie POV; slow burn; eventual happy ending

steve harrington is a man that demands your attention; whether your give it willingly or not is inconsequential. eddie's camp tended to be in the latter category. OR eddie's borderline obsessive watching of steve spanning from steve's freshman year to season 4, culminating in the unfortunate realization that the king had been dethroned the moment nail bat hit monster flesh and that maybe steve harrington was lovable all along.

in the margins by foxy_mulder (4/4 | 70k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; angst w/ a happy ending; suicidal thoughts; hurt/comfort

steve is having a hard time adjusting to the new normal, after everything that went down. he doesn't want to bother his friends with his problems, though, when they've got so much weight on their shoulders already. steve stumbles on an alternate version of hawkins, where none of it ever happened. everyone’s alive, his headaches are gone, his friends actually want to hang out with him, and he’s…happy. (the party has to fight another monster. but this one doesn't prey on people's fears. it preys on their deepest desires.)

skull rock era by chattrekisses (11/11 | 71k+ | Ex) canon divergent s2; steve POV; slow burn; internalized homophobia; fix-it

steve harrington never planned for eddie munson. steve was supposed to marry his high school sweetheart, have 2.5 children, and take over the family business. he was supposed to live a blissful life on a nondescript cul-de-sac, complete with a white picket fence and a closet full of tasteful polo shirts. he was supposed to make a graceful transition between being the golden boy and being the american dream. mediocrity was what destiny had designed for steve. reality had other plans. (or, steve and eddie, against all odds, fall in love.)

roll for seduction by spikeisthebigbad (37/37 | 74k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s3; steve POV; steve plays dnd; fix-it

when steve reluctantly agreed to play dungeons and dragons with the hellfire club he expected to hate every second. he did not expect to spend his friday nights flirting with eddie munson. what if eddie and steve were dating during season 4? starts after season 3, and eventually ventures into season 4. not canon compliant.

in over my head by staymagical (16/16 | 75k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; head trauma; temporary amnesia

one moment, steve is entering his room, ready for bed, and the next he's in forest hills staring at a very confused very concerned eddie and the run-down remains of the old munson trailer. three hours later. thus begins a secret shared between friends, steve leaning on eddie as they try and understand and navigate this new terrifying post-concussion symptom of steve's. with vecna dead and the gates closed, it can only be steve's own scrambled brain giving up on reality. it's a race against the unknown, trying to find answers and search for solutions before it happens again and steve isn't sure how long he can keep pretending he is alright when he is anything but.

leave the light on sometimes all night by anniebibananie (7/7 | 78k+ | M) au—no upside down; steve POV; hurt/comfort; slow burn; eventual smut

june 1986 steve is lonely. he’s always been lonely, honestly. an empty house, absent parents, friends that didn’t really know him. frankly, he probably doesn’t really know himself, either. it used to be easier to ignore—between sports and parties and searching for the next girl to hang around with. then nancy wheeler told him he was bullshit. in the wreckage of the storm, he realized she probably hadn’t been that off base to call his life bullshit. [life in hawkins, indiana is boring, ordinary, no supernatural entities. steve still changes. luckily, he still makes some new friends, too. certain people are simply meant to be in the same story.]

the lathe by palmviolet (13/13 | 82k+ | M) canon compliant; steve POV; time loop; fix-it; angst w/ a happy ending; implied self-harm

"this time, do it right. this time eddie won’t bleed out in his arms, in anyone’s arms. this time, steve will do it right." — or, steve relives the day they try to kill vecna over and over, and eddie just can't seem to stop dying. steve finds this totally unacceptable. sequel: disaster / lucky (1/1 | 7k+ | M) coda; eddie POV; implied/referenced self-harm; trauma recovery

it's got what it takes by rose235b (20/20 | 83k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; friends to lovers; slow burn

“i can walk you to your car if you need to go though.” eddie’s hand stopped moving. robin’s eyes snapped towards steve as if it wasn’t a nice thing to offer. “i’ll just maybe grab the vest so i can leave it for tomorrow.” he was undeterred though. if he could help eddie munson after the worst period of his life by literally just walking, steve would walk across the entire state of indiana. eddie looked back at him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to search for something on steve’s face. “okay.” it came out softer than steve was used to eddie being. steve's on his never ending quest to make up for past mistakes. eddie's post-vecna mess of a life seems like the perfect place to start. - or, two idiots fall in love very slowly to the tune of 80s music.

(something happens and i'm) head over heels by gibbouslunation (11/11 | 94k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; head trauma; angst w/ a happy ending

eddie made a strangled disbelieving noise, expression flickering. "you are not apologizing to me right now, for like, feeling a normal way about stuff. i can’t believe you." steve pushed a shaking hand through his hair. his heart rate no longer in his ears meant he felt he could at least think a little more clearly. "maybe it was the heat. doesn’t always have to be something messed up, right?" eddie gave him a placating nod. "sure, heat exhaustion is a helluva thing." it had been happening a lot recently. the…forgetting. zonking out. whatever. he was pretty sure he was just extra exhausted, it had been a few weeks since everything but it might have just been the adrenaline or something finally wearing off. sometimes it was like he just forgot someone was speaking, or couldn’t remember for a moment what they’d been talking about. like blinking out of a fog maybe. it does not get better, in fact, it actually continues to get worse.

water closet by stillmadaboutpetra (7/7 | 103k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; found family; slow burn; character study

steve's heard that a lot of life changing conversations usually happen in the kitchen or on the porch, but in his experience, it's the bathroom. a series of bathroom conversations (plus a whole lot of everything else) that slowly change steve, and his little world, in the wake of surviving vecna.

burned on the pyre by oklahoma (13/13 | 105k+ | Ex) canon compliant; steve POV; time loop; temporary character death; angst w/ a happy ending

"i’m gonna save your life, eddie munson." - caught in a time loop created by eleven where he is forced to relive the same day over and over, steve has to come up with a plan to kill vecna entirely while also making sure eddie and max don’t lose their lives in the process.

the beat has just begun by forgetthemoon (12/12 | 106k+ | M) canon compliant; steve POV; period-typical homophobia; fix it; slow burn

vecna dies. so does eddie. the world doesn't split open. in the aftermath, steve goes home to an empty house. well. almost empty. steve sighs, hanging his head. one more thing. then he can go to bed. the dirty towel can wait until later. he tosses it towards the bathtub without looking and turns to the sink, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste. when he looks in the mirror, eddie's staring back at him.

lonely is the night by intrajanelle (23/23 | 109k+ | T) canon divergent post s2; canon rewrite; eddie POV; hurt steve; angst w/ a happy ending

harrington had fallen, splayed in front of his preppy little beemer, like the jock equivalent of a fallen fucking angel. eddie, not having thought this through, watched harrington’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and said, "well, crap." or: post-season 2, eddie and steve get to know one another.

i can give you a heartbeat by soupbitchin (14/14 | 113k+ | T) canon compliant; eddie POV; ghost!eddie; happy ending; fix-it

being dead isn’t like eddie thought it would be. for starters, he’s a lot more alive than he expected. or, the ghost of eddie munson’s still hanging around, and he’d really appreciate if someone could notice him, thanks.

the end is here (and we do it a hundred times over) by placebythering (13/13 | 125k+ | M) canon compliant; steve POV; time loop; temporary death; suicide; angst w/ a happy ending

steve jolts awake, staring up into the dull beige of the camper’s ceiling. there’s a distinct brown stain, likely from a leak. the cushion of the back seat is hard against his back, and if he strains he could hear yelling and laughing from the outside. he wonders if he’s finally lost his fucking mind. —or, steve relives the day of the end over and over again.

caught in the middle, helpless again by margosfairyeye (14/14 | 131k+ | Ex) canon compliant; eddie POV; time loop; angst w/ a happy ending; canon-typical violence

fuck, eddie has been here before. the deja vu was bad enough but this is like, double, this is like deja deja vu or deja vu vu or something, this is unprecedented shit here. and eddie knows what comes next, knows like the roiling ache in his stomach that they’re going to go in, go though the portal and into the upside fucking down and didn’t they already do this? -- -- eddie loops through the time from lover's lake to his death, over and over again.

blood, love, and rhetoric by sourpastels / @lesbiansidney (18/18 | 143k+ | M) canon compliant; alternating POV; eddie lives; canon typical violence; accidental roommates

eddie believes three core things about the art of performance. 1. all the world's a stage. 2. performance is both a weapon and a shield, he wields it as both. and 3. you can’t act death. to quote stoppard: “it’s not gasps and blood and falling about—that isn’t what makes it death. it’s just a man failing to reappear, that’s all…” and eddie had gasped and bled and fell about, and was foolish enough in that moment to believe that was death. but he forgot a crucial step: he reappeared. or: steve is taking it day by day, flitting between the high school and the hospital and hopper’s cabin, locking any thoughts of eddie munson away at the back of his mind. meanwhile, eddie is just trying to get out of the upside down, with nothing but a nail-shield and the world's worst company.

sleight of hand by smithereen (19/19 | 143k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s2; alternating POV; internalized homophobia; slow burn

steve needs a weed dealer. he gets a bit more than that. (this is an AU set a couple months after the snow ball in season 2.)

take the money and run by thisapplepielife / @thisapplepielife (22/22 |143k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; road trip; getting together; future fic

"rules. like, there’ll be no eating in my car. you're not driving my car. no heavy metal," steve keeps listing, "you’re not picking up women and fucking them in m—" "i'll try to control myself," eddie interrupts with a quip, a smirk. fucking girls in steve’s car, or anywhere else for that matter, isn’t going to be an issue, unless something pretty fundamental shifts in him. steve continues, completely ignoring eddie, "you’ll wipe your feet. you're not dragging dirt all over my car. no hitchhikers. no cutesy road games. no smoking in the car. i'm not paying for all the gas." "ass, gas or grass, got it," eddie says, like he's taking this very seriously. he is not taking this seriously. or: road trip!

if your heart surrenders by asbealthgn (39/39 | 163k+ | Ex) canon divergent pre-s1; alternating POV; slow burn; secret relationship; angst w/ a happy ending

“that one’s on the house, okay?” eddie says, and steve opens his eyes to look back down at him. on his face is the slightest hint of concern, and something else steve can’t place. he’s still holding his hand. "thank you," steve says. he’s not sure exactly which thing he’s thanking eddie for, the weed or the hand in his or the lack of judgment at his fucked up head. he just knows that he’s grateful. eddie gives him a smile, a gentle curve of those pretty lips. "anytime, harrington."

tuesday's gone with the wind by thisapplepielife / @thisapplepielife (9/9 | 184k+ | Ex) alternate universe – no upside down; eddie POV; rock band; drug use; plane crash

corroded coffin's leased plane went down on june 13th, 1995 in the woods of louisiana. ten people on board died. eddie munson survived. before he survived, he really lived. companion series: wildflowers...and all the rest (15/15 | 151k+ | Ex) gareth POV; original female character; one shots; growing old; slice of life

gossip by jcmadgirl (11/11 | 213k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; pre-canon; sexual assault; angst w/ a happy ending

steve's whole life story, told through multiple snapshots of the events that made him into the person that he is today. or, a rewriting of stranger things from steve's POV.

i never did believe in miracles (but i've a feeling it's time to try) by cuoredimuschio (26/26 | 215k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; multiple POV; slow burn; mutual pining; getting together

eddie is beginning to think that, somewhere in the helter-skelter of surviving the upside down, being swarmed by possibly rabid but definitely rancid demobats, and charbroiling vecna’s slimy ass, he accidentally tripped through the wrong gate and landed in an alternate dimension. well, a different alternate dimension than the one he was already in. because steve harrington is flirting with him.

vignettes of lost connections by hardlyhalcyon (halcyonfrost) (50/50 | 229k+ | Ex) canon divergent pre-s1; alternating POV; secret relationship; angst w/ a happy ending

steve harrington and eddie munson had met long before dustin henderson dragged steve down to reefer rick's cabin. hawkins wasn't a huge town, and there was only the one high school, but the two were never friends. didn't even like each other. in all their darkest moments however, they somehow found company together. or the one where steve has depression, eddie becomes his safe space, and when eddie encounters battles he can't fight, steve reminds eddie of his own strength. a pre-/peri-/post-s4 fic with steddie before s4 events, continuing through and after.

as the world falls down by daeneryske (36/36 | 245k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; bad harrington parents; period typical homophobia; angst w/ a happy ending

after saving eddie from the upside down, steve hides him at his house while the party concocts a plot to clear eddie's name. what steve doesn't expect is how much he likes hanging out with eddie as they get to know each other. under the looming shadow of the mind flayer threatening to destroy hawkins, steve and eddie realize they're each grappling with their own darkness, from steve's father's impossible expectations to eddie's feelings of worthlessness. their friendship develops into something more even as the party prepares to fight Vecna and his monsters one last time. steve must decide if he's ready to shrug off the rigid roles assigned to him and become his own person. eddie must learn to embrace what steve has been trying to show him every day since nearly dying: that he's worth saving.

nothing else matters by bigskyandthecoldgun (31/31 | 279k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s2; steve POV; secret relationship; period typical attitudes; everybody lives

"you ask a lot of questions about me," steve tells him. "because you're interesting," munson says, quiet and honest. "you're a lot different than what i've heard." steve hums, eyes closed. "yeah," he says, eyes fluttering open when munson takes the joint from him again, "you are, too." or: steve ditches the prom to get high.

since you've gone (i've been lost without a trace) by steddieeddie (7/7 | 300k+ | M) canon divergent s4; multiple POV; comatose steve; grief; angst w/ a happy ending

may 31st 1986, two weeks until graduation. robin, eddie, and nancy are all set to walk across the stage, eddie being given a free pass after the whole ‘almost framed for murder’ thing. the three have been trying to be excited about their graduation, but it feels almost mundane to be excited when steve wouldn’t be there. they would be sat out on a football field in the blistering heat while waiting for their names to be called, with dustin and max in the crowd, cheering them on in steve's place. there would be fake smiles plastered to all their faces, no matter how realistic they tried to make them. none of them have genuinely smiled since steve got vecna'd. sixty-five days. steve had been in a coma for sixty-five days. the doctors keep telling the party that it doesn't look good, that steve's injures had been severe, and that they didn't know if, when, he would wake up. but they refused to lose hope. he'll wake up. it's just a matter of time. OR five times steve harrington didn't wake up, and one time he did.

the most dangerous thing (is to love you) by brokebeatle (21/21 | 304k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; shared trauma; slow burn; period typical homophobia  

"i know you care about what those little twerps think of you, and i can assure you they think way too highly of you," eddie says with a wink, and steve gives a half-hearted smirk for just a moment. "but look…i know i can’t ask you to stop worrying about those kids, so how about this? you worry about them, and you let me—actually let me—worry about you." steve pushes his hair back, and yet again, gravity instantly pulls it back down, since he’s looking at his feet. "…i don’t need anyone to worry about me." "too fucking bad. someone’s gotta do it, and it’s gonna be me." "why?" steve replies with a raspy laugh, shaking his head slowly. "why? why." eddie crosses his arms tightly across his chest, knocking his foot into steve’s again with a bit more strength. "because we’re friends, dipshit." —in which eddie's got a reason he's been planning on leaving hawkins since long before the world almost ended. the only thing keeping him in town at this point? his promise to be friends with steve harrington. and eddie doesn't break promises.

the man that i could be by ohstars (26/26 | 325k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s3; steve POV; secret relationship; period typical homophobia; angst w/ a happy ending

"steve harrington isn't straight. it's been a few weeks since he sat on that bathroom floor at starcourt with robin, where she shared her biggest secret with him and unintentionally unlocked an entirely new side of steve. since he’s had to come to terms with being open to exploring that side of him, but he's finally acknowledged that he's most likely, definitely, without a doubt into guys." -- after coming to terms that he may be queer, steve harrington does a little exploration on his own and meets the one and only eddie munson. just as things are going well and accepted the fact he's falling for eddie in their own little bubble, steve's world is shaken by a tragedy he can't quite talk about. and when the dust settles and he's nearly ready to put the pieces back together, his worlds collide when he realizes his eddie is the same eddie playing D&D with the kids. the same eddie who's now wanted for murder thanks to another upside down monster. how will he save the day when he can barely focus watching his ex mingle with his monster fighting team? series: the men we've become (4/4 | 45k+ | M) future fics; alternating POVs; domestic living