#thank you for asking this! i hope i made sense!

[hitomisuzuya]

Hii suzu!! So, i dunno if this particular idea already been asked. So if it's already done, please don't mind this one!

Reader edging scara. Like, really, really edging n teasing him for a full whole day. Making out, Slipping hand to his thigh under the table while in meeting.. Stopped rubbing him through his pants right when he's almost reach climax.. Etc.

So when back on bed at night? Scara couldn't handle it anymore and fucking reader roughly without mercy. Maybe even a hint of mind break on reader side. (Sorry if this doesn't make sense, english is hard. ;-;)

That's all, go wild with this one if you decided to write this! i hope you have a good day, suzu! Love your writings as always <3 don't forget to take care of yourself 💕

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Masturbation. Orgasm denial. Brat taming. Cunnilingus. Degradation. Edging. Mind break. Dom! Scaramouche.

Thank you very much, dear❤️ Sorry this took a bit to get to. You take care of yourself too🥺

The state you are reduced to now was a far cry from your earlier demeanor. You'd been an absolute menace today. It started with your hand on his thigh, your lithe little fingers stroking and teasing him outside his shorts under the table. All the while smiling politely while he struggled to keep up with the meeting.

Usually it was his fingers teasing between your legs during a meeting, pumping them in and out of your sopping cunt, drinking in the sight of watching you struggle. What was making you so bold?

After the meeting, abruptly condensed and cut short, your lips had been sweet and hungry on his. You'd taken his dick from his shorts, exploring his mouth and letting him wrestle your tongue into submission. You pumped and stroked your hand on his straining cock until he was whimpering into your mouth, rutting into your hand like a mutt in heat.

But you, for some reason, had to push him even further. He'd been about to put you on your knees, and force his cock past your lips. Stroking your hair while he bobbed your head, promising to fuck you full tonight, that cumming down your throat would have to appease you for now. Good girls deserve a treat to tide them over.

He didn't get to. You took your hand away before he could cum. Leaving him frustrated the rest of the day.

Now look at you. His mouth on your pussy was reducing you to the same state you'd left him in earlier.

"Impatient slut," Scaramouche growled, tightening his fingers on your thighs. "You want to tell me what you were trying to pull earlier," He swirled his tongue around your clit. The throbbing in your clit made you gasp, squirming as you grinded your pussy on his mouth.

"I just..I just.." You were struggling to find the right words. Each lick and caress of his tongue was teetering you closer to the edge. Agonizingly slow. You pushed his mouth down onto your cunt. "I just wanted your attention," You managed to whimper.

He groaned into your pussy, latching his lips onto your clit. As sweet as you sounded, there was no way he was going to get ahead of himself and lose control. You needed to be broken, just a little bit. Which meant you would absolutely shatter like glass.

"You wanted my attention that badly? I was going to stuff your greedy cunt full regardless," He hissed, narrowing his eyes in a glare up at you. "You really are a fucking slut," He hooked two fingers abruptly inside of you. He needed to hear you beg while he kept you right on the edge of cumming.

"Only your fingers?!" You protested, rocking your hips up. Your body had been burning and aching for him all day. And now he was only making you ache worse. Your desperate moans more than told you could hardly stand it any more.

"You brat," Scaramouche hissed, reaching down to palm and rub his straining cock. He couldn't deny he loves it when you get like this. He was only going to enjoy putting you in your place that much more.

Tears welled into your eyes as you looked down at him. You waited, your body tense and twitching in anticipation. Anticipation of more degradation from him, a more brutal pace of his fingers. Something, anything. But you got nothing.

Nothing but his tongue and his fingers abusing your dripping hole and your swollen clit. This was clearly about his pleasure now. It was almost unbearable for you. He could tell in the way your body twitched as he latched his lips around your clit. He casually hooked his fingers into your sweet spot, only giving you the slightest jolt of pleasure before taking it away.

You broke best that way.

"Tell me slut, do you want to cum?" A smirk coiled on the corners of his lips. The longer he brutally edged you, the deeper the look of desperation in your watery eyes.

"Yes, so badly," You moaned, grinding shamelessly on his mouth, trying to urge his lips and tongue firmer on your clit. You needed him so badly it hurt. You tugged on his hair to emphasize your pleas.

"Hmm?" He prodded his tongue on your sensitive clit, making your legs quake as you rolled your hips up. "That's too bad," He taunted, laughing softly into your pussy. It made his cock pulse to deny you the same you had earlier.

He hooked his fingers generously for the first time into your sweet spot, curling it extra before pulling them from your pussy. You cried out in both bliss and protest before you were unceremoniously flipped over onto your stomach.

"Ass up, whore," From his tone you knew he wasn't going to be gentle. Your cunt clenched at the thought. You raised your ass up, going down onto your elbows and giving him a view of your sopping cunt. "Bratty sluts like you need to be bred into their place."

Your pussy clenched around nothing as he pinched and rubbed your clit. You yelped in bliss feeling his hand smack roughly on your ass, making you arch your back as you grinded on his cock. Fuck you are so irresistible like this, craving his every touch.

Grasping his cock, Scaramouche moaned as he pushed it slowly inside. He bottomed out with a fluid thrust. The tight feeling of your pussy sucking him in made him lose control then.

He pulled out, only to stuff his cock back into your pussy all at once. It didn't take him long to set a brutal pace, his hands grasping your hips possessively. Fucking you roughly from behind was a dominant way for him to break you.

"Scara! Scara! I can't..breathe," You moaned, his cock head hammering into your sweet spot made your head spin. You moaned like you were finally getting something you were denied for years.

Scaramouche's cock squelched loudly in and out of you. "Going from teasing like a slut, to moaning like a slut," He laughed as your walls clutched around his cock, "Fuck, you feel so tight," He lost himself in taking the frustration of being teased by you earlier out on your pussy.

He still held your orgasm in the palm of his hand. He was dangling the promise right in front of you, little by little. "Please, please, I'm sorry. Just let me cum," You sobbed in pleasure, clawing at the sheets before reaching down to rub your clit.

Scaramouche batted your hand away, helping you along himself. You had a certain way of moaning right before cumming. He knew the moment your mind essentially shattered. Your body felt more pliable in his hands. "Yes, that's my good girl. Break just like I want," He groaned.

[yukioos]

Hi!! <3

I was wondering if you could do a Wolverine and Deadpool × S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet and shorter than them. But she is a total powerhouse! She can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the them!

I hope that made sense!! I love your writing, thank you!! ❤️

logan & wade with strong!reader

warnings: cussing, not proofread

authors note: i’m so sorry i don’t have a lot of hcs!! i do love the idea of wade or logan being with a strong reader though :) so sorry this took so long to post! i’m glad you like my writing, thank you for requesting!

word count: 0.4k

logan howlett

- when he first met you, he anticipated you wouldn’t be as strong because of your stature, he tried attacking you and was shocked when you threw him across the room

- then he started viewing you as a threat because you were stronger than him

- he later realized you were the sweetest and cutest thing ever, and began flirting with you 24/7

- he’s always testing you and asking if you can carry one thing or another, like a large box or a couch

- he secretly thinks it's so badass that you’re so much stronger than you appear

- everyone who sees you immediately thinks you’re a sweetheart, a frail thing someone could take care of

- they’re half wrong, and logan makes that clear to others who flirt with you

- he loves working out with you so much, it gives you one more activity to do together

wade wilson

- let’s be honest, wade is down bad for you whether or not you’re strong

- sometimes if he’s being sassy, you’ll just throw him over your shoulder and place him in another room then walk away

- of course, he never stays in his place and follows you to wherever you’re going

- though, he’s always teasing you about how you’re so tiny but so strong

- if someone ever messes with you and he’s around, he either doesn’t tell them that you’re strong or full-on brags about it

- although you’re strong, he still babies you constantly and tells you how cute you are, fully aware that you could rip his head off without trying

- sometimes he’ll ask you to open things like jars for him just so he can admire your strength

- wade kinda loves that you can beat him up so easily, he knows you won’t hurt him but loves to have a strong woman by his side

- he loves using your head as an armrest, always placing his arm on your head when he’s tired

- sometimes you’ll slap his arm away and he’ll yelp, but place it back on your head anyway

logan & wade

- both of them know that you could kick their asses with no effort, but tease you nonetheless

- they both love you with their whole hearts

- wade loves yapping to logan about how strong you are, while logan silently agrees with everything he says

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Hey could u do something about ghost being a dad to a son. I always see him as girl!dad but Icl I imagine him to have boys

Thank you xx

Just another day, just another night {Simon "Ghost" Riley}

A/n: ngl, I always see Simon as a girl dad too but he would be an amazing boy dad as well. Anyways, thank you for requesting and I hope you like it.

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader

Trigger warning: mentions of Ghost's past

Not once in his life had Simon thought that being woken up by a four year old boy jumping up and down on your shared bed would bring him joy.

He had returned last night and even though you had stayed up waiting for him after he called you as soon as he landed on the base, of course your son couldn't stay up that late. He had thought about asking you to wake him up just for five minutes but the thought was instantly scratched from his mind when he realised that putting him back to bed would be a nightmare.

Simon wanted to groan from how tired he was but didn't. He felt your body slightly moving next to him and he quickly opened his eyes, picked your son up in his arms and got out of bed. As much as he wanted to spend the entire morning in bed with just you and your son, preparing a small surprise breakfast for you seemed more appealing in his mind.

"Number one rule for being a proper man, buddy," Simon placed the tiny -compared to him- boy on the counter. Your kitchen was pretty small so he wasn't worried about him falling since Simon took up most of the space. "Always cook for your partner." He ruffled the boy's head and got down to work.

Looking at your son at first, back when he was nothing more than a baby in your belly, made Simon tear up. Would he even be a good father? Could he be a good father? Those two questions roamed in his brain, keeping him awake most if not all nights. But as soon as the baby boy was born and he held him the first time, all he could see was a spitting image of himself along with a few of your traits.

And soon enough, whenever Simon deemed that you needed to rest, which was technically everyday, he would pick up your son, head to the living room and turned on the tv. It wasn't until a few days later when you woke up from a nap and walked to the living room that you realised that Simon and your son were watching Premier League together.

It was a funny sight, your son curled up in Simon's arms happily waving his hands while your husband explained the rules to him. And now, four years later, your son would make you watch Premier League with him whenever Simon wasn't there and then he would call his father -only if the mission allowed some sort of communication- and they would talk about football. Not that the little boy's words made much sense but Simon understood him anyways.

"Waffles!" The little boy tagged on his dad's shirt. Simon stopped and looked at him, slightly confused.

"Did your mum buy that waffle maker?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He was planning on buying you one as a small gift but it appeared as if you had bought one already. The small boy nodded. "Let's make waffles then."

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Hello!

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth

Something I wanna say about this post (with my reblog on it). I wanna give a side of a story. Mine to be exact.

They were one of the first people I talked to outside of rp. They were a close friend. But that fades.

I DONT WANT THEM TAGGED IN THIS I DONT WANT THEM TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE THEM BLOCKED. IF THEY LEARN ABOUT THIS, IT IS BECAUSE SOMEONE SEND THIS TO THEM.

Tw: sa, strong language, I'm a little bitch, please please please read at your own risk

When start this by saying Jack worries me. I've seen so many post, rp or otherwise, where they bring up extremely triggering comments...just randomly. This has happened to me too. I don't get bothered by them I've been lucky enough to not deal with most and be comfortable with what I have dealt with. I think he needs professional help. Or to talk to someone that is an adult. This is difficult for some people. But there are free therapy websites out there. I have seen them. I have participated in them. The people on the other line aren't professionals but they are people willing to listen. And adults.

It started with when I saw an rp they had with camp Sky. I can't give screenshots of that but I do have some of confronting them.

Now all good right? Yeah! I thought so too. Untill an anon confronts em.

Posts here and here

Oh...kay? What's wrong about this?

Yeah...

Actively calling out anon

Now mind me I thought they had buried this au deep deep into the ground. Wasn't until I opened Circe's blog that I realised they didn't. I was pissed. I had every reason to be. We have so few stories of male victims as it is and this 'au' was blatantly disrespectful to victims of all genders. I felt really fucking disrespected that's for sure.

Unfortunately I don't confront them. But I do vent.

Now I feel bad for this. Maybe this was dirty laundry I shouldn't have aired out. But I was just so angry I couldn't think properly. I didn't mention Jack in this post, but friends figured it out. I won't say who these friends are for obvious reasons. Also, this is a bit wrong. They thought Odysseus cheated with only Circe, and Calyspo was SA. I got that wrong, and I admit it. I only remembered that when I scrolled up our dm to take a screenshot of it.

Now I wanted to leave that convo because I wasn't in the mood for arguing, and I've learned to give people what they want, which makes em and yourself stop. My fault again.

Things happen. It leads to the apology. Now, obviously, I can't tell if an apology is genuine through a screen, and I am most certainly a pessimist. So, like, I don't think it is. Also, I'm almost certain that most was written by whoever the friend was who 'helped' em.

Sure, people can change, but not enough times do they actually. Just look on the Internet. And real life. A person like Jack, well, they've talked to me enough to know it is most likely not the case. If they were so angry at a piece of good criticism, then I don't have much hope.

Am I an angry person ? Yes. Do I think I have the right to be? Yes. Am I also a logical person? I believe so. The people I've asked think so, too. I don't dislike something for no reason. But I do dislike things. What I do like is reasons for my dislikes. With me so far?

Good. Moving on.

After the apology and after I finally got my thoughts in order, I sent them a message because they tagged me. A lot.

This is what I sent. It's emotional, but in my opinion, it also makes sense. I was mad they lied to me. I was mad they twisted the story so. Fucking. Much. Odysseus isn't a rapist and Circe isn't an innocent flower. That is not what an AU is. What was their reaction to this? Nothing. To me at least.

A mutual friend told me they sent the last half of my messages and told them that they were angry I. Didn't. Thank. Them. For. The. Apology. Take that for what you will.

Now they made another post replying to the first anon who criticized them. I've read it. And when I tell you it is so fulled with self-pity-

I haven't collected my thoughts properly about this so this is bad and more emotion than the above. but this is the basic things behind it.

1) never directly addressing what he did and constantly tell em to read the apology. Don't wanna repeat yourself. How much time is it gonna take out of your day exactly?

2) not acknowledging the fact the male sa victim. At all. They don't say anything about it. No 'my condolences'. No 'I'm so sorry that happened to you' . Not acknowledging how terrible of a thing that is. At all.

3)says they aren't gonna defend themself... and defend themselves

4) have yet to tell us who these people are. Which is just bad cuz there are people out there who are okay with this. If they were IRL friends just say that.

5) it felt just fucking dull

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe you disagree with these points. But do not tell me you disagree with the rest.

I wanna end this by saying I am victim of SA. Did I tell him this? No. Maybe I should've. I don't feel comfortable sharing it. Because remembring fucking hurts. Remembering means crying and opening the lights and either sitting or laying down on my back because I can still. Fucking. Feel. It. And I was nine.

I don't want your pity on this. I don't want you to say sorry. The people you should be saying sorry to are the people who are not believed when this happens. Feel sorry for the people who cannot report this stuff because they don't trust the people who are supposed to protect them. Feel sorry for the people who think it was their fault and they actually wanted it when they didn't. 63% of rape are not reported in females. Only 12% of child rapes are reported.

I can't find a clear fucking statistics on males.

Do you know how difficult it is for males to have any representation at all? How many male victims do you see online? Even Odysseus being regonized as one is recent. Fucking. Stop. This is more than a made up story. It means the world to some people. So this actually happen. It might mean everything. This was taken away from them from so many retellings. And a stupid fucking au.

If you want to talk about SA, wanna make a character out of it, learn about it first.

So I'm not going to forgive and I am definitely not going to forget. You can. If you want. I don't care if you do. But I ask you not to forget. Please.

I am tagging Jack's taglist

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @i-was-never-sane

[sorrowsofsilence]

If you take asks/requests can you do something with reader refusing any type of help or assistance in anything but she's so used to everything being thrown in her face or used against her so now she is just super hyper independent. She meets Noah and for a long time he doesn't understand why she never lets anyone help her until she opens up and quietly tells him that she can't trust people to not use the help they gave her against her eventually.

Super self indulgent here 🥺😟

if im here • n.s

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!reader

words: 2k

warnings: none

note: thank you so much for this anon. this is so relatable, and writing this felt so... therapeutic? i hope you enjoy this xx

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

At first, Noah merely noticed it as a quirk; an oddity of hers that was borderline admirable. Any time he offered to help her carry anything, she would politely, but firmly decline. Once, when she was struggling with a stubborn jar of pasta sauce, he'd tried to help, only to have her snatch the glass away with a fierce glint in her eyes.

It was clear that she didn't need or want his assistance.

Even in times that seemed dire, she refused him. The time her tire popped and she struggled to fit it back onto the rims, and the time the bowl from the top shelf fell against the floor, smashing into pieces and cutting her hand.

He always assumed it was pride or a stubborn sense of independence. But over time, he realized there was something deeper lurking beneath the surface; a sort of wariness, a guardedness that was difficult to penetrate.

One evening, after they'd grown closer, they were sitting on Noah’s living room floor amidst several takeout boxes from the local chinese place. She was battling with a particularly tricky fortune cookie wrapper when Noah instinctively reached out to help.

"No," she said quietly, pulling her hand back as if his touch burned. Something in her eyes flickered, a strange mix of defiance and vulnerability that made Noah pause.

He sat there, watching with a defeated brow as he placed the chopsticks in his box of chow mein, shoulders slumped.

“Y/N…” Noah whispered, his eyes saddened as she struggled, throwing her head back in a frustrated growl.

“Why won’t you just let me help you? Ever?”

She sighed, placing the untouched cookie on the coffee table. Her hands folded in her lap, shoulders hunched as if bracing against an invisible force.

For a long moment, she was silent, refusing to glance at Noah as he waited, knowing better than to press.

"I can't trust people," she admitted, not meeting his gaze, "I can't trust them not to use the help they gave me, against me eventually."

Noah was silent, processing her words. His heart twisted at the bare honesty of her confession, the raw pain that lurked behind her fierce independence. He realized this wasn’t about jars or boxes; this was about survival, about safeguarding herself from the world around her that had done her wrong, time and time again.

"No one should ever use kindness as a weapon," he said softly, respecting her space but wanting her to know he was there, "And I promise you, I won't. Not now, not ever."

She looked up at him then, her eyes clouded with a wariness that made him want to reach out and reassure her. But he knew better now, knew that the last thing she needed was empty reassurances or hollow promises.

Instead, he simply held her gaze, letting his words hang between them as his promise to her. He wanted to show her that he was different and that not everyone would use their kindness against her.

She held his onyx gaze for a long moment before finally looking away. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a guardedness about her. It was clear that it would take more than just words to convince her.

But Noah was patient; he knew that trust wasn’t built in a day.

It was something that had to be earned and nurtured, piece by piece. He might not have been able to erase the past or change the people who had hurt her before, but he could certainly try to be different, and show her she deserved to be cared for.

Over the next few weeks and months, Noah did his best to show her he was a man of his word.

He never imposed, never assumed. Each time a situation arose where she seemed in need of help, he waited, letting her make the first move.

Bit by bit, they began to navigate around this invisible barrier - a silent dance of respect and understanding. When she stubbed her toe and cursed under her breath, Noah remained silent, only moving when she held out her hand for assistance. When her car broke down one icy winter evening, instead of rushing over as he instinctively wanted to do, he waited for her call.

It was a slow process, one filled with silent understanding and unspoken words. But with each day that passed, Noah could see the progression. There were moments when she would hesitate just before refusing his help; moments that filled him with hope and reassurance that he was doing the right thing.

One day when an unexpected rainstorm caught them off guard on their way back from a late-night movie, he held out his coat as they stepped out of the theatre. He prepared himself for her usual refusal, the quick shake of her head and the pulled-down brim of her hat as she braved the elements herself.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, she looked at his proffered jacket for a moment before finally nodding, tugging it around her shoulders with a shy smile.

His heart leapt in response.

It was a small victory, but for Noah, it felt monumental. It was the first time she had willingly accepted his assistance without that familiar flicker of fear in her eyes. The rain sliced through the night, drenching them despite the coat, but neither cared.

One small step towards trust. One small step towards un-guilted help.

“Thank you,” She whispered, smiling up at him. Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a comforting hug as they headed to their apartment.

“I would do anything for you,” He said, placing a kiss in her hair.

Her shivering body vibrated against his, her hands clinging to his dampened shirt for support.

In the silence of the rain-soaked streets, under the flickering street lamps, she believed him.

Not because she wanted to, but because he had proven it - time and again - through his patience, his understanding. He had seen her fears and her scars and had not flinched away, but stood firmly by her side, always waiting for her to reach out first.

"Noah," she murmured, as they unlocked the door of their shared apartment, her damp hair sticking to his face. "You're different."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, an acknowledgement of what they both already knew. He smiled into her hair, warmth spreading through him despite the cold rain dripping from their clothes onto the hallway floor.

"I hope so," he murmured back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back, giving her space once again as they moved inside.

She smiled at him then, one that reached to her eyes.

It was a rare sight and Noah cherished it because he knew how much courage it took for her.

That exchange marked a turning point in their relationship. His promise uttered in the heart of the storm, wasn't just an empty phrase spoken to comfort her.

It was a vow that he intended to keep, not just for that night but for every night thereafter.

In the following days, she became more comfortable in accepting his aid. She even let him help her carry groceries to their apartment, a task she'd always insisted on doing herself before- all ten bags looped up either arm.

But that day, he was allowed to carry five.

There was still that flicker of unease every now and then, a shadow that crossed her eyes whenever he offered his help; however, those moments were becoming less frequent with time.

Noah proved himself to be a man of his word. He stood by her side, not as a knight trying to save a damsel in distress, but as a constant companion who honored her strength and respected her space.

Their souls danced around each other in the ever-evolving rhythm of their companionship - sometimes colliding, sometimes distancing, yet always spinning in synchrony.

One cool spring afternoon, they went to a local park and found a solitary bench that overlooked a still lake. The water mirrored the sky, capturing its changing moods from cool blue to fiery orange as the sun began to set.

They sat there in a comforting quiet for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts.

Noah opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself just in time. He respected her need for space - physical and emotional both. His gaze fell on her profile - her eyes closed and tilted towards the setting sun, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in the crisp air.

"Is your mind always this quiet?" she asked after a while, turning to meet his gaze. He noted how her eyes held a certain softness now, a less guarded curiosity, “Or this patient?”

"No," he confessed with a soft chuckle. "I’ve had to learn patience over time."

"Because of me?" she asked, her voice low.

He turned to face her, taking a moment to really look at her. The setting sun reflected in her eyes, giving them an ethereal glow.

He admired her- every part of her. The good, the bad. Everything.

"Partly," he admitted, "But also because of myself. I've realised that sometimes the best way to help someone isn't by charging in like a hero. It's by waiting…giving them the space they need to heal."

His words stretched between them as she processed, her gaze never leaving his. Noah noticed a hint of something different in her eyes; not fear or apprehension, but something akin to gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said softly, echoing the words she’d whispered weeks before in the rain.

"I'm trying, Noah," she said quietly, "I'm trying to trust again."

He nodded, understanding all too well what that meant for her. It was a leap of faith - an act of trust that was foreign and strenuous to her very being.

"I know," he replied softly.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand gently, a small comfort against the enormity of what she had just shared, “And you’re doing an amazing job.”

She smiled, looking down at their entwined fingers.

“I’m proud of you,” Noah breathed.

Her heart raced with armour as they sat there, their hands linked while the sun slowly disappeared beneath the horizon. The world around them was bathed in a tranquil glow, almost as if it was recognizing the sacredness of their moment.

Noah squeezed her hand gently, his chest full of emotions he couldn't quite put into words.

He took a deep breath, his gaze still locked onto the surreal sunset before them. This woman sitting next to him, she was strong. She had been through so much, but instead of hardening her heart, she still allowed herself to be vulnerable, for him. Of all people, him.

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, "I think I'm ready."

Noah turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden declaration. She looked back at him, determination shining bright in her eyes.

"To rely on someone," she clarified, trailing a finger along the flower on the back of his hand, "To trust again... with you."

There was no hesitation in her voice, just a raw honesty that pierced through the quiet evening.

Noah felt his heart surge with a myriad of emotions: hope, joy, relief; but above all, there was a sense of honor.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, not wanting to rush her.

He knew the gravity of what she was saying, the importance of this moment.

But she simply nodded, meeting his gaze with an unwavering certainty.

"Yes," she whispered. "I think I am."

Her simple affirmation held so much weight. It was her declaration of surrender, but also a confirmation of faith in him.

And that meant more to Noah than any grand gestures or professions could ever do.

He leaned over, closing the distance between them and pressed his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled in the cool dusk air, creating an intimate bubble around them while the rest of the world faded into insignificance.

"I'll be here for you, whenever you need.”

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers

@anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-2 @sweetwombatpizza

[galeorderbride]

Forgiving the Flame for a Burn - Zevlor x F!Tav Fic Request

An angst/comfort/smut piece for @evocationwriter. Thank you so much for asking me to do this piece, I adore you! Xx

This is SMUT (tags/details below)

18+ MDNI

Summary:

One year after the defeat of the Elder Brain, Tav is trying to settle into daily life. But being a hero means the making of enemies, and Tav ends up on the wrong side of the city, with the wrong kinds of people.

That is, until a charming, former Hellrider steps in, saving her from the worst and taking her into his home for the night.

Tags: angst, comfort, smut. Unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), light orgasm denial, tail play, tiefling anatomy (infernal ridges, forked tongue), religious language used; some detailed depictions of a violent attack (beating to be specific)

Word count: 5k

Zevlor x F!Tav

No one talks about the end of a hero’s journey. Tav found herself thinking of that often, ever since the Elder Brain fell by the hand of her and her companions. Subjects of bard’s songs and children’s puppet performances, all of them bending to the whim of ‘thank yous’ and questions about adventures. All of them fading over time into nothing. People moved on, they had to, of course. Rebuilding homes, restarting businesses, schools and cleaning up parks. Life went on, and the looks of admiration as she’d wander the streets dissolved.

Needless to say, that wasn’t all bad. Walking around the city gave her a sense of anonymity she’d missed in the year since the brain’s defeat. While she had fond memories of children asking for autographs and telling tales at the Elfsong to curious attendees, the harassment and threats from those who felt nostalgia for the cult of the Absolute soured the experience. Every time she’d think about it, memories of Stone Lord exiles and concealed Banites taunting her with torture fled to mind.

Now, she could relax. Bask in the beauty of city living with no one to bother her (other than letters from her companions and comrades, which always excited her). Evening slowly began to fall, a wondrous sunset disembarking for the night as shopkeepers lit sconces outside their doors and brought in their signs. Fishmongers and tradesmen met in the streets to coalesce at either the Blushing Mermaid or the Elfsong. Parents corralled their children to follow them home after a day at the markets. Tav walked among them, smiling at the peace of normality she’d never forget again.

On nights like this one, Tav would look up above the Elfsong and see Alfira strumming her lute on the balcony. By now, she’d been giving lessons to children at her very own music studio for the last three or four months. Even then, she’d still go up to that rooftop and sing her heart out. Tav felt remorse every time she gazed upon the dazzling tiefling, guilt in her heart that, rather than enjoy the music, her soul yearned for the presence of a different tiefling entirely.

A year since she saw Zevlor at the final battle. A year since she’d discovered he survived. A year—and not a single letter. Everyone else reached out to her but him. In the weeks following, she wracked her brain for anything she might’ve said wrong. Any word that could be taken as an insult. Only he knew, and that would be just so forever.

She ignored the chest aches now, and the tingling in her abdomen that sometimes made her knees shake. Hoping one day they’d fade away like her fame. One outlived the other.

Was he even in Baldur’s Gate anymore?

Clearing her throat, she kept walking. Straightening her shoulders. New bottles of dye clinked against each other in her basket, held close to her stomach. In her daydream, the clock tower struck nine, startling her as she realized she’d been standing there for too long.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, forced to face her newfound fear of walking alone outside ever since anonymous former cultists began to harass her. She chastised herself for going today, irritated that she didn’t just wait until tomorrow morning.

Sticking to the main road, Tav hurried her step through the emptying streets. The end of a tenday, people looking for a rowdy night out were trickling into every space they could get drunk. Irrationality kicked in, everyone became an enemy, and no one had even noticed her yet. She repeated in her mind: Tav, get yourself together, you fought an elder brain. You can take anything a mere civilian can hit you with. Just walk.

Halfway home, things were normal. Everyone ignored her, and she felt her shoulders begin to calm as she neared her destination. The sky grew dark, only the light of the crescent moon peering behind the overcast lit her way. Little droplets of rain began to dot her face, she lifted her cape hood for shelter. Right as heavy footsteps trailed behind. The jungle of buckled boots and a person at least twice her size, she could discern that without even looking.

“The hero of Baldur’s Gate! Walking about these parts alone at night. Guess you don’t need brains to be a saviour, huh?” The voice behind her said. A man with a gravelly voice, slurred with drunkenness and malice.

Tav tried to ignore him, swallowing her fear as she kept walking at a brisk stride. One or two minutes and she’d be home. Counting the seconds, in tandem with the footsteps continuing to pursue her. Now in a quiet street, no one was around to help or witness whatever the man behind her had planned.

“Don’t run off so quick, sweet one! Sing me one of those ballads made about you! Bet it’ll sound sweet gurgling out of your throat when I cut it!” He chided, a growl so feral within him she could mistake him for a wild animal.

Another voice poked through an alleyway she passed, another men bumping her with his shoulder, rough enough to send her steps back against a wall. He said, “Father will love this at his temple doorstep, brother.”

Bhaalists. She should’ve known the ones to keep pestering her after all this time would be them. Likely a worse nightmare than anyone else, given their propensity for insane, maniacal violence. Were they even drunk? Or was that a farce to blend in with the city?

“Leave me be! I’ve killed more than you for less,” she said, sucking in her frightened breath.

Both of them cornered her, trudging towards her and beginning to push her around between the two. Smaller than both of them, she struggled to fight back as her basket of dyes shattered to the ground. Catching them off guard just quick enough for her to throw a punch in the face of one. He fell back, grunting in pain as the other smacked Tav against the brick wall. A sharp ache ran across her spine, the wind knocked out of her to completion when the one she punched slammed his fist into her stomach.

Gasping for breath, they let her collapse to the ground. Holding her abdomen tight, the roof of her mouth dryer than sand. Catching impossible air as the two paced around her, predators toying with their prey. That hit to her stomach so hard that she couldn’t find the strength to get up let alone fight back. Gods, was she really done in so quickly? Had she softened so much in just a year?

Most of the time, they were four at least. Now, she was one. And defeated in a matter of minutes. Dye stained her clothing as she twitched around the ground, feeling a harsh sting of hands clawing at her hair, pulling her back.

“Not so heroic now, are you?” The one that held her hair teased, giggles oozing with evil.

“Enough dawdling,” said the other, sheathing out a sharp, shining knife. “Tie her up to take her to the temple.”

Right when they began to tie the rope around her, a swing of a longsword sliced across one’s throat. Tav didn’t see all of it, still reeling from the punch. But the second one began to fight against her rescuer. Behind her writhing body, the sound of punching, stabbing and armour sliding against leather permeated the air.

And then nothing. Quiet air mixing with laboured breath, a few growling sighs to follow. Ones she recognized after a few seconds. A calming but assertive tone that used to excite her beyond belief.

“Z—,” she tried to say his name, but coughed instead. Recovering from the punch to the gut, breathless all the same.

Warm arms wrapped around her, lifted into an embrace healing her in seconds. Heat coursing within each injured vein, the tender flesh of a tiefling’s hold. Her head hung back against his arm, aching stomach muscles jolting. But the rest of her soul eased with the shelter of safety, letting him take her wherever he deemed right.

It could’ve been minutes. Or hours. Awakening in a soft bed covered in thick furs and clean sheets. Glowing candlelight against stone walls and the blurry flame of a burning fireplace. Sparks flew across the mantle as a broad shouldered, tailed man threw another log in. Trickling liquid poured from a clay pot, steaming scents of green tea and lemon soothing her into full awareness. No more pain, other than a small ache in her abdomen. For a second, she wondered if she’d died.

Tav shifted on the mattress, wincing from her sore muscles. At the corner of her eye were her dye-soaked clothes, hanging to dry after being washed. Bare arms and legs slid around the linen fabric of her ivory slip. Hair swept back from her face in a loose, well done braid.

“Am I dead?” She whispered, groaning out remnants of her voice as if she’d forgotten she had one.

The man turned from the fireplace, rushing to the bedside. Seating himself on the stool directly next to her, she could clearly make out the weathered, handsome features of Zevlor. Pouring tea like an old friend, not someone who’d been silent for a year.

“Not dead, Tav. You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re awake. After those mongrels attacked you…I feared the worst,” he said, handing her the small cup as she sat up. Zevlor outstretched his hand as she winced, but pulled back before he could touch her.

Her eyes closed with the peace of green tea on the tongue. Pushing away the thoughts of the attack, burdened by yet another memory of pain. She chose another route, “You saved me. I don’t know how you found me but thank you, I owe you for such a gesture.”

With a cordial nod of a soldier, he said, “Think nothing of it. I—well, it’s a long story but I’ve made a living through private security. I was coming home from a job when I saw you in the street. Found you just in time before you slipped into that alleyway.”

She cupped the mug in her hands, resting on her cross-legged lap. A skipped beat of her heart went aflutter when she caught Zevlor’s eyes linger over her bare legs, and back to her face in a split second.

“I didn’t even know you were in the city,” she said, “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”

Zevlor shifted, eyes darting away from her to every other corner of the room. The place was small, fit for a single man who didn’t want for much. Exactly him, melding in with the space as he paced around with his arms crossed. Keeping his distance as he always did even when they had fought together, even after the celebration…

“Certainly, I owe you an apology for that. There is still much agony in going into it but—I was in a bad way after the final battle. An injury of the mind, if you will. Times were hard, too hard to reach out to you with any confidence,” he explained.

“I expected no less, after all that happened. Only that, well I thought we’d become close. That maybe you’d find some peace through my support. But,” she trailed off as her hands shook, shock of what happened to her still dominant over her, “seems you supported me.”

Her feet hit the cold floor, trying to stand up while wobbling about. Just as her hips moved off the mattress, she stumbled downward. Zevlor strode over, hooking his arms around her, lifting her back onto the bed. In her panic, she clutched him without mercy. Holding him so close to her that he fell forward, knees landing on the bed as she lay under him. Hovering over her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her chest, struggling to properly exhale. Bringing him back to their moment alone at the Grove celebration, when he comforted her, held her as she wrestled with the fear she had to hide for her companion’s sakes. Here he was again, taking one, brave move to slide the strap of her slip back onto her shoulder.

“Zevlor…please don’t leave,” she said as she felt him move away, feeling his heart shred at the discomfort of being so close. No matter how much he craved it. Craved her.

He sighed, “You’re terrified, shocked from what happened. I don’t want to get in your way and make things worse.”

As he pulled away, she stabilized her tremored hand by grasping his wrist, “You haven’t made things worse. Remember when you sat with me at the party? When I confessed to you how afraid I was of everything? You helped me so much back then, how could now be any different?”

Zevlor faced away, staring into the firelight as Tav waited. He could not retreat from the visions of their last meeting. How she cried to him, and told him she felt safe in the comfort of his arms. Sitting in a grassy, humid corner away from the rest of the guests. Sheltered by fern leaves and flowers, he let her talk and talk about all that troubled her. Felt so touched by her vulnerability that he shared his own worries too. Two of them, absorbed in isolating fear and finding each other in the dark. Hands wandering around with each kind word, and then the arousing jolt of remembering her naked flesh against his. Tail wrapped around her ankle while they made love under the plant covered moonlight. So beautiful under him, sensations he never thought he’d experience again.

He thought of making her his again so many times after. But in between then and now, he kept failing. Falling into disorder and defeat. People dying for his mistakes. Who would want someone like that? A man so past his prime he verged on cowardice, next to the hero of Baldur’s Gate. How could that ever make sense?

“Both of us were vulnerable at that time. You’re recovering from an attack, and…well, I know you appreciate honesty. My body is so excited from the fight, and from seeing you again, that if I get close enough I might take you here and now. Even though I’d come to regret being so forceful,” he explained.

Hot shame filled every corner of his face just for saying it. Avoiding her gaze even as she took deep breaths, standing from the bed again. This time, with success. Still slow, but steady in each step closer to Zevlor by the fireplace.

“You were always so hesitant about what you wanted,” Tav said, close behind him. The glow of the fire warmed one side of her exposed arms, fingers tickling against the fabric of his cotton shirt. Brushing the tip of her nose against his spine, taking in the scent of brimstone and pine. Her strength regained with each graze of her palm against him, light and teasing.

“I venture to deserve the things I want first,” he said, head down towards the flame. Closing his eyes to the feeling of Tav’s hand sliding from the back of his arm to the top of his hand. Rested on the mantle as she gave a gentle squeeze.

“Isn’t that up to me to decide?” She asked, taking the strap he once adjusted in place and pulling it down again. “You saved my life today. And I missed you terribly, Zevlor.”

Hand in hand, she turned him to face her. Tall and soldierly in front of her, head craning up to face him in all his glory. Fire crackled before them, leading her hand guiding his to her waist. His nails craved to dig into her skin, pull her close and never let go. She tiptoed into his embrace, other arm around her back, forming a gentle, passionate hug. Feeling her skin against his again, he was happy to die that moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want tonight? It was not my intention when I took you in to do this,” he said, wondering if she heard a word he said. She pushed their faces closer, lips hovering around each other. Temptation already too difficult bear as his mouth opened to bite into her supple flesh, but stopped short. “I won’t be able to control myself if you allow me this.”

Tav’s cool breath danced along his tongue, a full body desire to sob over how much she wanted him. To do what they did last time and pretend the world didn’t exist.

“You make me feel safe, Zevlor. I’ve been on my guard ever since we parted. Do you know how wonderful it feels to just…relax? Please, I want you near me. Inside me all night. Just like at the Grove. Hold me, Zevlor,” Tav said, her voice a crescendo of emotion from whisper to yelp.

Words weren’t enough, he had to be shown. Tav ruminated that very idea ever since they last parted. How a commander of a group like the Hellriders could end up so unsure of himself. Maybe he wasn’t always like that, but he was now. And she wasn’t inclined to change a thing. She laced her fingers under the straps of her slip, letting the fabric slowly waterfall off her body. In the wake of her naked form before him, she swore she could hear his beating heart. Rapid and fiery like the burning glimmer of the room.

“Can you promise me one thing?” He asked, hands pressed against her cheeks, lifting her eyes up to him. Round and ablaze with desire, warm and cool at the same time.

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Do not leave in the morning,” he said.

“I’ll never leave if that’s what you require.”

It was a kiss like never before. A whirlwind heart attack imploding between the two of them. Zevlor’s soul rose out of his body, taken over by the beckoning ache of her open mouth, welcoming his forked tongue. Tav melted into him, relishing in the hot pleasure of pressing her bare body against his clothed one. She clawed at his belt, longing for the image of his warrior frame above her. Scarred and toned by years of combat. Tail swivelling back and forth, a supplicant tying around her supple thigh.

Their voices hummed into each other, a hymn of blossoming want. Walking in tandem to the bed as Zevlor climbed over her, shuddering at the pleasure of pushing between her legs. He sat up on his knees, stretching his flexed back muscles as he pulled off his cotton shirt. A tingling sensation spread between Tav’s legs, cool air biting at her wet, sensitive core. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands across his torso, savouring every scar and mark, repeating her movements when he’d moan. His belt jingled below, unclasped as the imprint of a large erection outlined his pants. He was an impressive man…everywhere.

“Pull them down slowly, I want to see,” Tav ordered, voice dark and wistful with lust.

“At your command, my beautiful goddess,” he said, a low growl vibrating from the back of his throat. Taking slow, painful time in pulling down his trousers. Tav bit her lip, the excitement almost too much. A little tuft of pubic hair opened the door to a long, thick shaft, bouncing against Zevlor’s stomach when it finally broke free. Her mouth watered, licking up the collection of desperate saliva at the top corner of her lip.

Her heart fluttered, body hot and assured unlike before. That was the spell Zevlor had her under since they’d met. Empowering her just from being close, reminding her of the strength she still had. Not a thing of the past, but something to be embraced. And now, she had a chance to stay with him for more than a night. Protect each other, and revel in their primal need to be attached.

Discarding his pants with the rest of his clothes, Zevlor lowered, kissing between her bare breasts and down to her stomach. Heartfelt, exciting tickles made her giggle with a flirtatious ring. Shivering at the scratches his nails left in their stead. Relaxing every nerve within as she lay in his embrace, letting him take the lead. She hoped he’d always give her a chance to let go this way, think about nothing other than the pleasure he’d cover her in.

Between peppered kisses and flicks of his tongue along her stomach, he whispered, “You’re mine, I’ve wanted you to be since the moment I saw you. I’ll protect you, keep you safe. Come here.”

With untold force, Zevlor swung Tav’s legs onto his shoulders, capturing her cunt in his mouth. Jolts of ecstasy wet and savoured with each slide of his tongue across her clit. Sucking, licking, moaning into her without any attempt to catch his breath. Driven each time he tasted more of her essence. Unbridled to the point where she had to hold his horns to keep balance. The temperature of his hellfire skin stimulated her even more, muscles tightening with every weakened, whimpering moan that escaped her. Assertive, but slow, gentle even as he became primal against her. Letting the rhythm take her exactly where she needed to be.

Tav’s moans fluttered like butterflies, one hand clutching his horn and the other falling over her eyes, focusing on the chase of that wonderful high. Vampiric biting down of her lip, containing her innate need to be even louder. There would be time for that. Tonight, she wanted to sink into him, fall into a calming, warm pool of passionate affection. Enjoy the sensation of his body becoming a vessel for her pleasure, moving his tongue in just the way she liked.

Between tiny gasps, Tav said, “Zevlor…you’re going to make me cum. Please don’t stop…please.”

He didn’t reply, too focused on slurping up every trickle of sex that dripped out of her. He simply moaned, muffled by the soft grind of her pussy against his face. Building up to a climax that bloomed throughout her body, arching her back as she rode out an orgasm she had no idea she craved so deeply until it happened. He’d refuse to let her stop a second early, continuing to circle his tongue around her clit until she shook with sensitivity.

She melted into the bed, a thin veneer of sweat combining with the dripping warmth between her legs as Zevlor took his mouth off. Positively beautiful over her, muscular back bent in a perfect curve when he began to suckle and kiss around her neck and collarbone. Travelling downward in a desperate need to cover every inch. Landing with satisfaction on her nipples, laughing for the first time in years, lost in the joy of her.

Zevlor stopped for a moment, lifting his head to face her below him. Tranquil and drunk with sinful pleasure, cheeks filled with rosy blush and eyes glazed over. Arms splayed out like the wings of a celestial Aasimar. He loathed the past, for so many reasons, but mostly because she wasn’t there with him. In her infinite beauty, a plush and wanton solace before him. How did he ever stomach being away from her since they’d met?

“I’m sorry for leaving you after that night. Forgive me?” He asked.

Tav laughed, spellbound to the point of forgetting she was ever upset. As if he’d never left. She said, “You may need to convince me a little more, hellrider.”

Something switched off within him, a zealous need to have her succumb to him. Forgive him for his misgivings. Praying to a new goddess and asking for redemption. Offering himself to her by inching his cock deep inside her, feeling the pull of her soft walls lock him in. Driven to eternal admiration from the sound of her shocked, euphoric moan, submitting to the stretch of him. An addictive sting, exposed to every synapse erupting within her sensitive, yearning cunt. She bit her bottom lip with a smile, shivering at the comforting wrap of his tail around her waist to keep her in place. No escaping the loving, dominant thrust of his hips deep into her.

“Forgive me,” he said, “Forgive me. Forgive me!” A passionate, hard thrust into her pussy each time he said it.

The might of him rendered her eyes at the back of her head, nearly unable to reply as he begged for her forgiveness. Her slick smacking against his pubic bone, gushing onto his cock in a lustful mess of an orgasm begging to come back. Tav snaked her arms across Zevlor’s shoulders for dear life, brought to the edge with his heavy grunts in her ear. She tightened around him, rocking back and forth on the bed, closer and closer to release.

He felt the contracting of her around him, unfulfilled by her silence on forgiveness. Just as she was about to finish, he pulled out of her, smacking the tip of his cock against her clit repeatedly. Listening to her whine and whimper, threatening tears. Then, before she knew it, he thrusted back in, hard and unmerciful. Pulling out again, repeating that pattern.

“Have I earned your forgiveness? Or shall I deny you until you use your words all night? Tell me, am I absolved, goddess?” He growled, voice husky and feral, the militant part of him revealing just enough of itself to command her to his whim.

By the fourth thrust and pull, she wailed, “Yes, gods above, I forgive you! There’s nothing to forgive, just make love to me!”

He pushed inside her fully, smashing his lips against hers at the same time. Holding her hips in line to use his infernal ridges as friction against her swollen clit. Locking his hand into hers, supported above her head while he thrusted and thrusted with reckless abandon. Both of them grunting in tandem, overcome with delayed pleasure. Tav found her footing quickly, edged so deliciously that her orgasm ripped through her with little effort, squeezing onto his cock. Her nails dug into his knuckles, mouth hanging open in awe over the intensity of her second climax.

Pulling from the kiss, he struggled against his own release. Mourning for the eventual time when he’d have to leave her cunt. Comfortable, warm and wet, a shelter from all harm. He couldn’t stand it yet, and used his tail around her waist to flip her onto her side, like fresh sand in the palm of his hand.

“Let me lie next to you,” he said, moving his body in a spoon position, chest pressed against her back, “I want to cum with you in my arms.”

Tav mustered a whisper thin ‘please’ under her breath, running her hands through his hair as he snuggled in behind her. The curve of her spine angled just right for him to sheathe himself inside her once more. Pumping slowly this time, arms and tail curled across her body like ivy against an ancient wall. Kissing the side of her neck, an endless waterfall of tenderness mixed with the possessive thrust of his cock. She was completely enveloped, safe and sound in his embrace, floating in the paradise he gave her.

“You’re with me, now. Right here, safe. Does that feel good? Am I pleasing you, goddess? Might I cum inside you?” He whispered in her ear, low and gruff. Intense bravado oozing from every part.

She was awash with sensual energy, captivated by him just like the first time. Although that was much quieter, fearing someone might hear them. Now, she felt as if they were sharing a home. In the privacy of their own dwelling, even if that was a fantasy.

“Oh, yes, you are perfect. I want your everything, Zevlor. Please, give me everything,” she replied, taking care to run her tongue up and down his bottom lip before she pushed them into a wet, feverish kiss. Flicking her tongue against his teeth, relishing in the sharp edge.

Their mouths were open to each other when he felt the stirrings of his climax. Languishing movements lost rhythm as he climbed ever forward into that much desired sensation. Possessed by the supple flesh of her lips and everything else. Hips, breasts, stomach, ass, everything. Falling into her deep, insane at the ache of his cock inside her. He breathed out a hard, rapturous moan before he let himself spill, soaking her cunt with the cum that twitched out of him. Dribbling out of the side as she lay before him with a wide, calm smile. Their muscles relaxed together, fusing into the bed.

Tav shivered, the slide of his cock pulling out sending a shock in her spine. Imbued with comfort immediately as Zevlor pulled a thin sheet over her. Tucking her into the blankets and the warm hold of him. Snuggling tight into her, yearning to find a way to fuse his body with hers. Kissing the top of her head, lingering to take in her scent.

“You did not smell of rosemary when we last saw each other,” he said, “That’s always been a favourite of mine. Rosemary.”

Tav grinned, turning to face him. A much needed distraction to keep her heavy eyelids from shutting for the night. To see him once more, maybe twice. Absorb all she missed in the year past. His handsome, aged face glowing under firelight. Sandy hair, messy and dotted with sweat. Strong hands stuck tight to her hips. All she imagined came to life.

Zevlor held her hand, kissing each knuckle, down to the bottom of her palm. A touch so ethereal, he could have been giving healing magic. Rescuing her both outside and in, cleansing her soul of all evil and wrongdoing endured before.

“We’ll replenish your lost supplies tomorrow,” he said, her hand close to his face, “If you’ll allow me to accompany you?”

She smiled, containing its ever widening stretch. “Well, we do have a great deal to catch up on.”

[jealousmartini]

hi! i saw ur post where u mention age change with loa and could u talk more about that? cause i just turned 20, but i wanna be 17 again just so i can experience teenage things (i had depression and extreme social anxiety my whole teenagehood). i wanna feel young and do things right, apply everything i know now to this time in my life cause i can't help but feeling so old speacially since i have zero "firsts", like i'm 20 and no first crush or first kiss (ik it's not the end of the world, but i want back the expirences i was stolen from). i don't wanna over-explain myself nor trauma dump on u, but basically i just wanna start over yk? i know nothing is impossible to loa, truly know, but this one wish makss me insecure cause that will mean i was born in 2007 instead of 2004 and my old classmates werent really my classmates which is okay cause i never liked them but instead i had different ones that i don't know? i don't know if i'm making sense here, sorry to be asking u these things but ur the only person i've seen talking about age change so i'll be very thankful to anything u have to say to me. hope u have a good day :)

This ask unironically made me frown, like so hard, knowing that manifesters like you have to ask if starting over is okay because of the heavy misrepresentation and misunderstanding of manifesters and shifters who age change.

My love, OF COURSE you can. I cannot believe we have come to the point, on the interent as a whole, that people feel that they need to ask permission on what to do with THEIR LIVES, because the all high and mighty LOA police feel like they have the right to dictate what others should and shouldn't do with their lives.

And God forbid you don't obey them because then they'll throw every derogatory name, they'll diagnose you with every mental illness they want to insult you with (that they don't even understand), they'll assume that utmost worst about you, and take to their side of the community to shame you infront of them all. It's genuinely appalling.

Which is why I finally reminded myself a couple years ago that these people are not my mum. I have free will to do what I want with MY LIFE and whatever they say are nothing more than opinions that I can literally choose to listen to or to ignore. I refuse to fall into the trap of giving power, MY power away to outsiders and let them control me because real talk now, what are they actually going to do? At the end of the day they can cry, shout, rip their hair out on camera an tell me how insne I am for not having the same views as them, but none of that's stopping me from sleeping with their mum AND dad in another reality

Long story short, my answer is yes, you can start over and change the year you were born hun. You can do whatever you want because this is your call. Do what YOU want, not whatever the LOA police deems acceptable by their beliefs

[withahappyrefrain]

FRAT TASM!PETER WITH

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT COCKY ASSHOLE WOULD SAYYY OH MY GOD

This is how blonde frat Peter returns bless you

Warning: language, frat Peter being a cocky little shit, female reader, I think that's it!

"Hey, you made it after all."

You audbily breathe in through your nose, trying to ignore the fumes of vodka and who knows what else was in this God forsaken jungle juice.

Anything to give you the strength to face Peter Parker.

You turn around to find him leaning against the door, a joint tucked behind his ear, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie, bleached blonde hair somehow perfectly messy.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Parker. I'm only here to support my roommate," you scoff, turning your attention back to the game of beer pong. Not that you were truly interested.

But you couldn't let him know that.

You regret being late to the first day of your Science Diplomacy & World Health class. Had you known it would have left you no choice but to sit next to Peter Parker, you wouldn't have hit the snooze button for your alarm five times.

It wasn't even like you had asked to borrow a pencil from him. He seemed drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Y'know, I feel like I would have remembered a face like yours. You a transfer?" He asked, as if you two weren't in the middle of a lecture.

Thanks to your roommate being in the sorority that paired up with his frat, you had heard all about Peter Parker. The infamous parties. How he dyed his hair blonde at the beginning of sophomore. How he's the biggest flirt that Delta Lambda Phi had.

You didn't even look at him when you responded, "We've been in the same class since freshman year. But I came here to get a degree, not to party."

Ever since that day, he wouldn't leave you alone. At first it started with ridiculously over the top pick up lines.

"Are you made up of copper and tellurium? Because you're cute."

All you could do was roll your eyes at every line, mustering all the strength you had to not smile. You had eyes, the guy was cute. But you also knew his type.

So when he extended a personal invite to the latest frat party, you simply turned him down, like you had for countless of other parties.

Of course, as luck would have it, it was exactly the party your roommate wanted to go to.

You hoped to avoid him, hoped that your roommate would find whoever she was looking for so you could leave.

But it was as if Peter Parker had a sixth sense for you specifically. His inability to find you in libraries, dinning halls, and the university's coffee shop (bc fuck Starbucks) had now extended to frat parties.

"You know Parker, stalking is a serious crime," you scoff, refusing to look at him. The ever present scent of cinnamon alerted you that he was now standing next to you.

"It's not my fault you have a beautiful face that I could pick out from a crowd," He mumbles, a stark contrast to the usual cocky bravada you're used to.

"Excuse me?" Without thinking, you turn to face him, making contact with those big brown eyes.

The corner of his pink lips jerk upwards as he leans in, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His touch is gentle, something you weren't expecting at all.

"You heard me." The cocky smile had returned, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I know you love how cheesy I am."

Unfortunately, it was true. He was never crude and it somehow sounded genuine, despite being accompanied by a worn snapback.

"It's not crass, unlike your fellow brotherin. I'll give you that Parker." You would have taken a step back if you could, but you were now up against the wall. But he still had space to close in on you, not that he did. He always kept enough distance that you could walk away.

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen or heard him flirt with anyone since the first day of classes.

"Y'know, I got an offer from Delta Chi. It could be way worse." His comment earned a laugh from you, a feat Peter was quite proud of.

"You're right, I guess I should give you that."

"I think you can give me a lot more," He leaned in, closing some of the distance between you two but not all the way, "If you want."

The ball was in your court. His lips looked so soft, no doubt from the vanilla chapstick he used. God, why did you know that about him? And why did he always smell like cinnamon instead of Axe body spray? That's what he should be using, it would certainly make it easier for you to discourage your own feelings about the guy.

Tired of denying, tired of putting up a wall, and not kissing anyone in the last four months caused you to grab at his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his.

You vaguely register the sound of the dropped plastic cup, as your fingers thread through his hair to find it soft, despite all the hair dye and bleach.

Peter's hands feel large as they skim your sides, landing at your hips. When his tongue slid across your bottom lip, you could feel your knees begin to go weak. As if he could sense it, he pushed your back firmly against the wall, one of his large hands going down to your thigh to help steady you.

Fuck, his lips were soft. There was muscle underneath that hoodie, you could feel it.

His lips trailed down to your jaw before settling on your ear.

"I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?"

Desire burned at the pit of your stomach, your fingers gripping the strands of his hair.

"Where the fuck is your bedroom Parker?"

[amirasainz]

Hi! I love your work and have a request that I hope you could do whenever your free. Would you be able to write one where charles has a little sister and it's the monaco grand prix and the photographers won't leave her alone and starts getting anxious but charles and alex are there to help her get through it. I honestly like to read your work whenever I have free time to. Thank you if you are able to write this. ❤️❤️

Stop. This is so adorable. Thank you so much for your request, and I hope you like it!

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!

-xoxo

Under the Spotlight

The Monaco Grand Prix was always a monumental event, not just for Charles but for the entire Leclerc family. Racing in his home city, surrounded by the streets he grew up on, filled him with a sense of pride. But this year, things were a little different for his younger sister, Y/N.

At just 17 years old, Y/N was still trying to navigate her own life, balancing school, friends, and living in the shadow of her older brother’s fame. Charles had always been protective of her, knowing how overwhelming the spotlight could be. But with exams and school commitments, she hadn't spent much time in the F1 world lately. Today, however, she was determined to make it to the Monaco paddock right after school, even though she knew the chaos waiting for her.

---

It was the Thursday of the Grand Prix weekend, and Y/N had rushed out of school the moment the bell rang. She hurried through the streets of Monte Carlo, still dressed in her school uniform, and headed straight for the paddock. Charles had offered to send a car to pick her up, but Y/N insisted on walking—feeling a sense of independence. She wanted to surprise him.

As she arrived at the paddock entrance, her bag slung over one shoulder, she could already feel eyes on her. The photographers, always on the lookout for family members of the drivers, instantly recognized her. They crowded around her, snapping photos and shouting questions.

“Y/N! Over here, just a smile!”

“Y/N, are you here to support your brother today?”

"How does it feel being Charles' little sister at his home Grand Prix?"

The cameras were relentless, flashes going off in every direction, and the sea of voices became overwhelming. Her breath hitched, her palms sweaty as her heart raced faster than one of Charles’ qualifying laps. She tried to navigate through them, but there were too many, and she could barely see where she was going.

“Excuse me, please,” Y/N mumbled quietly, her voice drowned out by the clamor. She hugged her bag closer to her chest, feeling more and more trapped. The walls of people pressed in, the loud noises blurring together into one giant roar in her ears.

Suddenly, her chest tightened, and she felt the familiar pang of panic setting in. Her breathing grew shallow, each breath shorter than the last.

Just then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar figure.

---

Charles was inside the Ferrari garage, chatting with his engineers when his girlfriend, Alexandra, nudged him, her eyes narrowing in concern.

“Charles, isn’t that Y/N?” she asked, pointing towards the entrance.

Charles turned, his heart sinking the moment he saw his little sister surrounded by the mob of photographers. She looked small, vulnerable, and worst of all, he could see the telltale signs of her anxiety setting in.

“Shit,” Charles muttered under his breath before springing into action. “Come on, let’s go,” he said to Alexandra, his protective instincts kicking in.

Together, they made their way quickly through the paddock, pushing past people who were trying to get their attention. The moment Y/N saw Charles and Alexandra approaching, relief washed over her, but the anxiety still clung to her like a heavy weight.

---

“Hey, hey, Y/N!” Charles called out as he reached her, immediately placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His voice was gentle, but firm. “You’re alright, I’m here.”

Alexandra quickly moved to Y/N’s other side, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe. We’ve got you.”

Y/N nodded, trying to steady her breath, but the flashes continued, and the crowd wasn’t giving up.

“Alright, enough!” Charles raised his voice, turning to the photographers with a scowl. “Give her some space. Back off, now!”

Some of them hesitated, but a few persistent ones kept snapping photos until Alexandra stepped in.

“She’s seventeen, and she just came from school. Show some respect,” Alexandra’s voice was sharp, but calm. There was an authority in her tone that even Charles admired. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, realizing they weren’t going to get more photos out of this situation.

With the worst of the photographers gone, Charles quickly led Y/N away from the commotion, guiding her towards a quiet corner of the Ferrari hospitality area.

---

Once they were away from the noise, Charles crouched down in front of Y/N, who had slumped into a chair, still trying to catch her breath.

“Chérie, look at me,” Charles said softly, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “Deep breaths, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just like we practiced, remember?”

Y/N nodded shakily, following his lead as he demonstrated a few slow, deep breaths.

“In... and out,” he coached gently.

Beside them, Alexandra crouched down too, rubbing Y/N’s back in slow circles. “You’re doing great, jolie fille. Just focus on your breathing. Everything else can wait.”

After a few minutes, Y/N’s breathing began to slow, and the tightness in her chest started to ease. She looked up at Charles and Alexandra, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just... I didn’t expect it to be so much. I thought I could handle it.”

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to handle everything on your own. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You did great coming straight after school,” Alexandra added, her tone soft. “But next time, let us know when you’re on your way. We’ll meet you at the entrance so you don’t have to go through that again.”

Y/N nodded, feeling more grounded with them by her side. “I just wanted to surprise you,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Charles chuckled, sitting down next to her. “Well, you definitely surprised me. But no more surprises when it comes to dealing with that crowd, alright? They can be... intense.”

“You’re telling me,” Y/N said with a nervous laugh, though the tension had finally started to ease.

Alexandra smiled, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “You know, you can always text me, too. I’ll come running.”

Y/N grinned, her eyes softening. “Thanks, Alex. You guys are the best.”

“Of course,” Charles said, his protective tone still lingering. He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “And if anyone bothers you again, you let me know. I’ll deal with them.”

Alexandra playfully nudged Charles. “Alright, Mr. Overprotective, calm down. She’s safe now.”

Y/N laughed for real this time, the anxiety of earlier fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded her how lucky she was to have both of them—Charles, with his fierce protectiveness, and Alexandra, with her calm, caring presence.

Charles stood up, offering his hand to Y/N. “Come on, how about we go somewhere quieter? Maybe grab something to eat?”

Y/N took his hand, standing up and feeling much lighter. “That sounds perfect.”

Alexandra looped her arm through Y/N’s free one. “Let’s go. No photographers this time, I promise.”

As they walked together through the paddock, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful. The world of Formula 1 might be overwhelming, but with Charles and Alexandra by her side, she knew she could face anything—even the photographers.

[shotoyami]

Can I request Scott summers x reader ( gender doesn't matter ) where Scott is reminiscing about his life with the reader. Scott and reader are bestfriends and have always been together as X-Men, they have never left eachother. As he is reminiscing he's like shoot I think I'm in love with my bestfriend.

Bro, what if we like…kissed right now? Wouldn’t that be, idk, crazy?

prenotes: first off: I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS, SOFT SCOTT OMGGGG!!!!

that aside, my absolute obsession for this man aside,

this request literally made my heart melt, imagining how silly and cliche it is to realize you’re in love with your best friend; literally one of my favorite troupes, hands down.

Thank you so much for the request, anon<3

pairing: Scott Summers + gender neutral reader

warnings: none, yet again!

genre: fluff, absolute filthy fluff– like, seriously, enough to make even the strongest man crumble and slam his fist to the ground

notes: as mentioned above, one of my favorite troupes. it’s everywhere in media, but you can’t help but squeal and kick your feet when you see it happening. I am but a simple human being, in love with the cutest, most sweetest concepts known to man. that aside, I hope everyone enjoys this one as much as I enjoyed writing!!!

word count: 700

Scott’s always deemed himself as awkward. Yeah, sure, it’s a pretty huge flaw of his, but everyone is awkward about something at some point. 

That being admitted, Scott fully understands that friends aren’t awkward with each other (at least, not from any experience of his). In fact, he finds himself quite content in his friendships, especially one with his best friend, (y/n). A silly little mutant, one that instantly clicked with him. It was refreshing to have someone that didn’t immediately smartass him. They’d always been so respectful of him and valued his say-so– it really didn’t come as a huge surprise to anyone that the two were fast friends.

It’s refreshing to have a best friend like (y/n), someone he can speak unfiltered to. For example, when he and Jean broke up (gosh, he’s cringing so hard at the memory– her admitting she’s leaving him for Logan of all people), (y/n) was the first to check up on him, and even did their best to keep his morale high.

Now, don’t get him wrong, Scott is no sort of rule breaker, not by a long shot, but who can say no to (y/n)’s pouting face when they asked him to sneak out one night and just…take a break from the mansion, from other mutants, for one night to just be at peace.

And he appreciated it a lot. It definitely helped. But, being around (y/n) in general is always so much fun, it’s almost upsetting when he has to retreat to his dorm for the night– well, unless they had an impromptu sleepover, set with a pillow fort and everything. 

To have someone understand him so well, someone he genuinely enjoys being around and listening to, from going on missions together, to just listening to them rant about whoever had annoyed them the most that day, even to just laying next to each other (not touching, of course, Scott prides himself on being extremely respectful of boundaries, thank you very much).

That all being said, Scott just couldn’t shake a growing feeling recently, one that made him stop and think about how he feels his best around his best friend. It’s like he’s been seeking their presence more and more recently– but he wouldn’t consider himself clingy? It’s all confusing, and a lot to digest, so he’s just pushed it aside.

But now, sitting in his dorm, lost in thought while still attentively nodding as (y/n) rambles about their latest annoyance (Gambit’s daily card trick that involved blowing up the fridge), Scott can’t help it as it hits him. The realization hits him hard– like a train carrying 5000 tons of freight had ran right into him. ‘Holy shit, I’m in love with my best friend.’ Scott stares blankly for a second. It all made so much sense now, the lingering touch they shared when passing an item to one another, the longing gaze that followed (y/n) any time they’d leave the general area.

“(y/n) I have something to tell you!” Scott blurts out, leaving the other person confused, though they tilt their head, urging him to continue since apparently it was important enough to interrupt them. “I think I like you- like, a lot, but I don’t want to jinx or ruin what we have, I value our friendship so much and-”

“Damn, that’s gay Scott.” ‘What? Is that really all they have to say?!’ Scott frowns a bit after hearing that response, it was unserious and clashing with him as if they think he’s joking or– “Alright, I’m chill with gay. Gimme a smooch, Scotty.” Though a bit caught off guard by the random nickname, Scott finds himself unable to argue, scooting closer to them and– hesitantly, looking for further consent– reaches to cup a hand against their cheek. He leans in and– god, it’s everything he’s ever wanted and more, so soft and full of feelings, a silent admission from their side of reciprocation. He finds himself chasing after the feeling of the kiss when they separate, which only causes (y/n) to giggle. “Gosh, desperate are we?”

“Only for you…”

[angel-gone-dark]

Kyle x Coquette girlie pretty please with sugar on top. 🤭

Kyle x Coquette!F!Reader

ok so like. i went off here. um, hope you like it bestie LMAO

CWs: unprotected sex, reader is a little bit of a shit, maybe a lil rough?

SMUT UNDER CUT. MDNI.

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

Kyle raised a brow at his friends in the hallway, who were all in various states of confusion. 

“What the hell are you all staring at?” He snipped, and Cartman pointed across the hall.

“Dude, look at her outfit. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Kyle looked over at the girl who had been pointed out. She was surrounded by the other girls, talking and laughing. He was entranced with the way she moved, flipping her hair over her shoulder. He’d never seen someone dress the way she did, her outfit consisting of white lace and pink bows. The mary janes on her feet clicked against the tiles any time she shuffled her pose. He swallowed, forcing his eyes back onto his friends. 

“Yeah? What, uh, what about it?” He asked.

Cartman cocked his head to the side, “What is she even going for?”

“Who cares, it works,” Kenny grinned. “She looks fucking hot.”

Kyle couldn’t help but agree. Her skirt was short over her tights, shirt showing off the smooth skin of her shoulders. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of it pressed against him, especially the skin on her chest and thighs. He had to take some deep breaths, attempting to force his boner down. Kyle was saved, literally, by the bell. He dashed off to his class, trying his hardest to ignore the pretty girl- and the bewildered cries of his friends.

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

The ginger slid his fingers through his curls, squinting down at his textbooks in frustration. He jotted down notes, rereading them at least 5 times over to make sure they made sense. He jumped, looking up with wide eyes when he was joined at the table… by the girl he was looking at earlier. You.

“Uh, hey,” he greeted. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, I hear you’re a really good tutor. Can I get you to look over my work quickly?” You batted your lashes at him and he was suddenly extremely glad he was sitting down. 

“Yeah, yes of course,” He nodded, taking your notebook from you to glance over your notes. “This looks really good, but I think you have an error right here.”

You hummed, nodding. You contorted your face into your cutest pout, absolutely indulging in his eyes on you. 

“I don’t understand,” you huffed, moving your chair closer to him and pressing your chest up against his arm. 

He stammered trying to muster a reply, “W-well, uh, here. Look at the way I broke it down in my notes.”

Throughout his whole ‘tutoring’ thing, you acted your absolute cutest. If you were being entirely honest, you’d had your eyes on him from the moment you saw him. You were heavily repressing the urge to jump his bones in the very public library.

“You know, I think you should come to my house after school. I could use some more help,” you suggested, leaning further into him. 

His face was tinged deep with a blush that went from the tops of his ears down, down… you gnawed your lip thinking how far it reached. 

“Y-yeah. Okay,” he gave in. “Where do you…”

You interrupted him, “Meet me after school. We’ll walk together, handsome.”

He gaped as you retreated from the library, your little date secure. 

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

You waited for Kyle near the school’s main entrance, books clutched close to your chest. Your sickly sweet smile returned as he approached, and you gave him that innocent look that you knew would drive him nuts.

“Hi, Kyle,” you had put on your most charming voice. “Thanks for walking me home and helping me with homework.”

“No problem,” he smiled and it nearly took you out. “Can you scooch over? I’d rather be the one walking on the outside of the sidewalk.”

Oh, he was going to be the death of you. The walk to your house was mostly quiet, Kyle seeming content with the silence.

You opened your door, gesturing for him to follow you, and led him all the way up to your room. You sat pretty on your bed, tilting your head at him. He glanced around, trying to avoid your hungry gaze draping down him. You sighed gently, combing your fingers up your body to untie the ribbon holding your hair in its graceful ponytail. He sat in your desk chair, moving his textbook over his lap.

You stood, waltzing right on over and placing your hand over the thick book between you and heaven.

“Hiding something?” You teased, pressing down on it. 

He grabbed your wrist in his hand, speaking through grit teeth, “Stop it.” 

“Or what?” You taunted. He had had enough of your attitude. 

Kyle stood, grabbed you by the hips, and tossed you onto the mattress. He leaned over you, voice strained and hands gripping the sheets. 

“You’re making it extremely difficult for me to stay decent, do you know that? You asked me to help you study, and here I am trying, and you’re giving me those goddamn eyes,” he rambled, more frustrated than you had expected. “I can’t tell if you’re giving me permission to touch you like I want to.”

“Do it.”

As soon as he had your permission he was ravishing your lips with his, his hands moving to squeeze eagerly at your chest as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, honey,” he breathed, face dipping to nip at your neck. “Why can’t you be this good all the time, hm?” 

You groaned as his lips moved downwards, and he left purpley blue hickeys on your skin. Those would be hard to cover, and you would have been angrier if one of his hands hadn’t moved under your skirt to stroke your slit through your tights and panties.

“Sorry about this, but the damn things are in the way.” He huffed, ripping a hole directly in the crotch of your tights.

As you made a move to protest, his deft fingers moved your panties to the side, thumb rolling over your clit and index plunging into you. You gasped, back arching under his touch as he stretched you out, adding his middle finger as well.

“Kyle, please.” You whined.

“Please what, pretty? Use your manners.” 

“Please just fuck me.” 

He chuckled, fingers curling inside of you teasingly, “Since you asked so nicely.”

You whimpered at how empty you felt as he retracted his fingers to undo his belt and jeans, leaning up on your elbows to watch. As he pulled his cock out of his boxers, you couldn’t help but salivate. He was thick, and wet, and blushing an angry pink at the tip. It twitched as he touched it to glide it against your slit, making you moan.

He was eager, too eager to properly undress either of you. All he did was flip your skirt up as he sunk into you, his jaw hanging open as he allowed you to adjust. 

“Shit, you’re tight,” he grunted, rolling his hips harshly into yours. “Atta girl, you can take it. C’mere.”

He pressed his lips on yours again as he began to move, pace quickly rising from the simple grind of his hips to roughly pound into your cunt. Your eyes fell shut, hands clawing at your cute pink bedspread. 

“K-Kyle, fuck.” You heaved, hips bucking up into his.

“Such a dirty mouth on you, gorgeous…” He smirked down at you, thumb moving back to roll over your clit. “Do you want me to make you cum on my cock?”

“Please, please, I need it, Kyle.” You begged, all sense of dignity out the window as he plunged in and out of you with wet slaps.

“Good girl. Such a good girl,” he groaned, increasing the pressure of his tight little circles. “So cute f’me.”

His cock twitched inside you, and he dropped his drooling mouth to your neck again, biting down hard before whispering in your ear.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, honey, you can take it. Fuck.”

You couldn’t hold it any longer, the tight coil that rested in your abdomen snapping suddenly as you came with a cry. You gripped him so tight he could barely move as he ground his hips down into you, his release not far behind, spilling warmth inside of you.

“Shit,” he cursed, gently pulling himself from your hole. “If you look this good with my cum dripping out of you we might be here for a while.”

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

he owes reader a pair of tights!!!!

word count: 1411

[scarlet-bitch]

Her Perfume's Holding Me Ransom  

4k words, Office Siren - Steve Harrington X fem!reader, 18+, MDNI, set in '88 Steve aged up accordingly, no use of y/n & no physical descriptions apart from clothing/makeup, no mention of upside down. A/N: Recently watched Henry Gamble's Birthday Party, so had to piggy back off the dialogue from that opening scene! Fic inspo songs: No Control, Espresso, Bed Chem, Jackie & Wilson Feedback/likes/reblogs are all greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading & as always, I hope you enjoy! XO, Scarlet 💋

A year ago, Steve Harrington traded his Family Video vest for a blazer when his father hired him. The transition was rocky but with help from receptionist Shirley, he earned his father's respect and even his own office. Then Shirley announced her retirement, and in came her replacement: you. With cherry red lips and nails that matched, you strode into the office like a siren, and Steve wasn't immune to your charm. 

"Lost My Senses, I'm Defenseless"

Steve was always one to pride himself on his ability to stay focused, but you tested that the moment you walked through the door. You were the type of beautiful that prompted a double take. Pair that with your naturally sweet and helpful demeanor, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Every time he tried to concentrate on his work, you would appear at his door with another offer of assistance. While you were just doing your job, it was a tantalizing interruption. He suddenly found himself stumbling over tasks and struggling to concentrate, just like when he first started. 

Your arrival didn't just effect him, it had turned the heads of everyone. Suddenly the break room became reminiscent of high school, where the guys' suggestive remarks about you made his skin crawl.  The worst part? Sometimes he thought them too. Like every time you asked him questions, all he could focus on was the plumpness of your pouty lips and how pretty they would look wrapped around —fuck. He didn't want to be that guy, and yet these thoughts constantly crept into his mind.

But sometimes, an even worse thought would cross Steve's mind: that you were taunting him on purpose. Because yes, since your arrival, nearly everyone had focused on you, but it seemed like you were focused on him. That's ridiculous though, right? Of course, it is. He should be ashamed of himself for even entertaining the idea.

And yet, he kept going back to it.

Steve couldn't help but notice you made a habit of bending over when you were around him. Whether it was your cleavage or your backside, every day you were giving him a view. The first few times it happened, he looked away, but curiosity got the best of him when it began to feel more than coincidental. He hasn’t stopped since, often looking forward to it.

Every week when you handed him the new reports, he couldn't get over how you managed to make the exchange of a manila envelope seem seductive; batting your lashes, grazing his fingertips. You constantly had him rocking a semi, and it all felt calculated.

The biggest factor in it all was your fucking perfume. The lingering scent of warm vanilla would continue to flood his senses even when you returned to your desk. Your scent had him under a spell, making his mind wander to places it shouldn't: Your nails raking down his chest. You soothing the marks they'd leave behind with your kiss, lipstick print scattered across his skin. Your soft voice telling him he's doing a good job, just as you always do, but this time, you wouldn't be talking about work. Steve scolded himself for these thoughts, but only after he'd had his fist wrapped around his cock.

Three months had passed since you'd disrupted Steve's routine. The decline in his productivity was obvious. After a heated one sided argument, his father concluded, "I don't mean to be a hard ass, Steven, but there's no exceptions. If it were any other employee, I wouldn't let it slide! I just don't get it. You'd come so far... Maybe I underestimated Shirley's role in your success."

Steve couldn't admit to his dad that you were the real cause of his current predicament. If you were dating, or even fucking he'd feel less embarrassed but the thought of confessing that he'd let mere attraction derail his progress felt pathetic. In his entire life, no one had ever captured his attention like this. 

Steve knew he had to turn things around. He pinpointed the exact moment in every day that his focus goes off track: between 9:30 and 10a.m. When you made your first appearance, traipsing into his office with coffee.

While you delivered coffee to everyone -with them, it was a quick drop off. With Steve, it was never just about the coffee.

Your other check ins with him throughout the day were short and strictly work related, but this visit was always more personal and drawn out. It might have derailed his focus for the day, but it was also a highlight for him.

That’s why, as you walked in swaying your hips with coffee in your hand, Steve made sure to really take in the sight because it had to be the last time. 

“Mornin' Stevie,” you said, bending forward slightly, just enough to give him his favorite view as you placed the cup on his desk.

Steve sucked a breath in through gritted teeth. “Good morning.” He said, forcing his attention away from you and back on the paperwork on his desk.

You straightened up. “Did ya have a good weekend?” 

“It was alright,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes from drifting back to you. He stared at the paperwork in front of him. Focus. 

“Glad to hear it,” you replied.

Steve immediately regretted his choice of words. Normally, he would’ve engaged in conversation, the two of you exchanging playful banter with that slight undertone of flirtation that made his heart flutter. He thought it best to hold back today, but he didn’t mean to come off so cold.

“How ‘bout you?” he asked, looking back up at you. He couldn’t help it —if he was going to cut this moment short, he had to at least be present. And was he happy he did, you were just so pretty, his mouth fell slack, and he had to force it closed so he wouldn’t drool. 

“Yeah, good.” You said with a small, half smile. 

Steve felt his stomach drop at your answer -guess you’d taken the hint. He wished he had just let today play out as usual and given himself one last drawn out conversation with you. But he's come this far, might as well see it through. 

“That’s.. nice.” Nice? The word felt weak, insufficient. 

"Mhmm." You nodded, a hint of disappointment in your eyes. “Need help with anything particular this morning?” 

"Uh, no, I do-don't think so.” 

"Well if you think of anything, you know where to find me.” You said, as you turned on your heels to leave his office. 

As he watched you head out, it dawned on him that in his efforts to not let you derail his focus, he didn’t even thank you for the coffee. 

“Thanks, by the way!” he called out. 

You stopped in your tracks at the door, turning around with a smirk on your lips. "Alway’s my pleasure. Even when you’re... moody? Or whatever this is today." 

Steve couldn't contain the grin that spread across his lips. There was the banter that he adored. “Sorry. Just a bit distracted is all. These deadlines have me stressed.”

“Well, I could always help you relieve that stress if you’d like.” You leaned against the doorframe. 

Steve’s heart raced. Were you suggesting what he thought you were, or was that just wishful thinking? He could have sworn you winked, and the way you licked your lips —was his mind playing tricks? He hesitated to respond, undure what to say. 

“Y’know, take some of the workload off your hands, or I could always bring tea instead of coffee. It’s supposed to be calming or whatever.” 

Right, of course you weren’t suggesting anything else. 

Steve let out a slight chuckle, trying to play it cool. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just whining, but thank you.” He wanted to leave it at that, but you had just handed him a perfect opportunity to finalize his decision. “As for the tea, I um, yeah I-I think I just need to cut caffeine out entirely. It, uh, it makes me jittery. So going forward, you don’t need to bring me anything in the morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You sure?”

"Uh, yeah, for now at least." Steve noticed the amused look on your face, as if you could see right through his lie. You simply shook your head and strutted back to your desk.

He let out a relieved sigh -the hardest part was over. He moved to the window, flinging it open to dispel the sweetness of your presence that your fragrance left. Then he grabbed the "Please Do Not Disturb" sign Shirley had given him when he got his office. The thought of spending the rest of the day without seeing you was a blow, but he didn't have much of a choice. 

“Soft Skin & I Perfumed It For Ya" 

This wasn’t some grand scheme. You needed a job, and they were hiring. You had no idea it was his father’s company, let alone that he’d be working here.

It’s not like you ever knew him. If you recall correctly, there may have been a brief interaction at a party, but all you actually knew were the rumors. You attended Hawkins High's rival school, and at every away game in Hawkins, the talk was always about Steve Harrington. When you realized he would be your colleague, you decided to up the ante. After all, you're an opportunist —curious to find out if those rumors were true.

Now roles are reversed, and all the talk is about you. You don’t mind what anyone's saying -crude or not, you couldn’t blame them. You've brought a little spice to the mundane duties of clerical work. What you do mind is that, from what you could tell, Steve wasn't engaging. While it’s nice to think he’s above objectifying women, it’s exactly his attention you were after. 

As you settled into the office's routine, you realized that you did in fact have an effect on Steve. He was just good at concealing it. So you began to make your intentions more obvious: offering cheeky views, lingering touches, flirty banter. You wanted him, and you wanted him to know that. 

Earlier, you were a little more outright with your behavior than you ever had been. Truth be told, you'd almost offered to blow him right there, but you chose to allusive.  And while the look on his face implied he knew exactly what you were getting at, you backtracked. Hindsight’s 20/20 and you regret not giving him a chance to respond. Maybe if you had, instead of daydreaming about it, you'd actually be experiencing his pretty eyes staring down at you while his oversized cock -if those rumors were true-  was hitting the back of your throat. You needed him.

But as you marched your way to his office, you were stopped in your tracks as you spotted his door shut with a "Please Do Not Disturb" sign —and it stayed there the whole damn day. 

So the next day as you strolled into work, you were on a mission. One that quickly got derailed when that god forsaken sign was once again on Steve's door. 

Later that morning, during your coffee deliveries, a light bulb went off when you reached Laura's desk. As you set her coffee down, you noticed the stack of folders with a note from Steve asking for her to work on them. 

"Laura, I have a pretty clear schedule. Why don't I take these off your hands?" you offered.

"Oh dear, that would be fantastic, if you wouldn't mind! I wasn't sure why he didn't ask you originally, Shirley always helped with this... not that I mind but I still have a whole other stack to go through for James.” 

While this was an absolutely self serving offer you were happy you could actually be of assistance. "Gladly! It's no trouble at all!" You expressed, whilst grabbing the folders, and heading back to your desk.

You could guess exactly why Steve didn't ask you. It was clear yesterday, when he was practically drooling, all flustered as he told you the caffeine’s getting to him. All of these things, as well as that damn sign that’s taken perch on his door were pretty good indicators that Steve was struggling to resist your temptation. You had him right where you wanted him.

"Maybe it's all in my head...."

Steve heard a knock at his door.

"Come in," he said, eyes still focused on the work in front of him. He looked up only when he heard the familiar click of your heels against the tile. There you were walking towards him carrying the stack of folders he gave Laura. 

"Hey..."

"Good afternoon," you replied smoothly, setting the folders on the edge of his desk and taking a seat across from him. You crossed your legs slowly, making Steve's eyes follow every movement. The flush on his cheeks was unmistakable as his eyes roamed your figure. 

"You alright, Steve?” 

"Oh yeah, I was just expecting Laura," 

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Well, here I am. Laura had a lot on her plate, so l took these off her hands." Leaning forward slightly, you rested your elbows on his desk. "Why didn't you ask me for help anyway?"

Steve shifted in his chair, tapping his pen nervously. "She's familiar with this. I wasn't sure if you were."

You leaned back, crossing your arms against your chest, making Steve's breath hitch as your position emphasized your breasts. "Have a little faith in me, Steve. Besides, I need to learn, and I'm best when I'm hands on," you said, drawing out the words with a whisper as your lips curled into a smirk.

Steve felt his cock hardening, he just couldn't help it, you were utterly arousing without even trying. Pull it together. He looked towards the folders, nodding. "I'll check them over."

"Great," you said, standing and smoothing out your skirt. "I'm gonna grab a snack. Want anything?"

"No, I'm good, thanks.” 

Steve studied the folders until your return, about five minutes later. He could have sworn he heard the click of the lock when you shut the door, but chose not to question it as took your seat across from him once more.

"So, how’d they look?" you asked, peeling the banana you got.

Steve glanced back down at the folder he was reviewing. "Yeah, everything's in order. Good job."

"See? You shouldn't doubt me.”

Steve laughed softly and looked up at you. "Never again-"

His words were cut off as you slowly brought the banana to your lips. He watched as you wrapped your lips around the fruit, holding eye contact. You let your lips rest for a moment, hollowing your cheeks with a slight suck before taking a bite. Steve's gaze moved from your mouth to your eyes, as a groan escaped him. 

You giggled, “Wanna taste?”

"You're unbelievable," Steve chuckled. "To think I've been questioning if this was all in my head."

You tossed the rest of the banana into the trash. "I thought I was being obvious enough. Didn't realize all I needed was a visual aid for you to catch on."

Steve shrugged, a wry smile on his lips. "I caught on weeks ago, just seemed too good to be true."

"It's not," you said, rising and moving toward him.

Steve's eyes widened as you dropped to your knees in front of him. A breathy moan escaping him as you settled between his legs, your hands resting gently on his thighs.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered seductively. "Relieve all that stress."

"Honey, you're the cause," Steve mused. "You've never even touched me, and I haven't been able to focus on anything but you. I can only imagine how distracted I'll be once you do."

You let out a laugh, the sweetest sound Steve had ever heard. "Mmm, quite the contrary. It's all this pent up tension we have that's got you so distracted.”

Goddammit. You looked so eager, so tempting as you bat your lashes at him. He cupped your face with his right hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, and he couldn't resist sliding his thumb in to press flat against your tongue. You took a soft suck, and the guttural sound that escaped him only encouraged you. You hollowed your cheeks before slowly sliding off with a pop. Steve shuddered at the feeling, and a smirk settled on your face. 

Within an instant his hands moved to unbuckle his belt. You slid your right hand further up his thigh, moving it to palm the outline of his cock.

"Aghhh," he groaned as he went to unbutton his pants. Just before he could unzip them, the phone rang, startling both of you.

Steve glanced at the clock. "Fuck," he muttered. "What time was that call, today?" 

You put your palm over your mouth, giggling as you stumbled to stand up. "Now." 

Steve's hand went to pinch the bridge of his nose as he breathed in, trying to regain some composure before he answered. 

You leaned forward, whispering into his ear, ”Tell your daddy I said hi," and nipped his earlobe gently before turning toward the door.

Steve grabbed your wrist, turning you back to face him. 

“I think you're going to be the death of me." He groaned. 

“Oh Steve, you have no idea," you said with a wink as you walked out of his office.

"How You're Looking At Me, Yeah I Know What That Means" 

Your desk felt like a prison. The ache between your thighs unrelenting as you kept replaying the look on Steve's face when you sunk to your knees. You were plagued by the unfinished business, taunted by the tick of the clock moving slowly toward 5p.m.

At a quarter til 5, you saw Steve making his way toward your desk, casting a quick glance around the emptiness of the front of the office. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can I borrow you? I need some help with some... filing. Might keep you after a bit, if you don’t mind staying a little late.”

"Laura can't help?” You teased.

Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes before they locked back on yours. “This requires your.... expertise.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Well if that's the case, I guess I can make it work."

Steve smirked as he stepped closer, the look in his eyes was clear —he was going to fuck you. "I promise it'll be worth your time.” He whispered. 

Without another word you stood up from your desk, and followed him to his office. 

"Are You Free Next Week? I Bet We'd Have Really Good Bed Chem" 

All bets were off when Steve closed his office door. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands gripped your waist as your mouths collided fervently.

His lips were soft and plush, his tongue teasing yours as you opened your mouth.

You tasted like the cherry life savers you kept at your desk, and Steve couldn't get enough. "Want you so fucking bad," He said between the breaths of your kiss.

You responded with a moan as his lips trailed across your jaw, burying his face in your neck. He groaned as the scent of your perfume enveloped him while he sucked softly at your skin.

You began tearing off his blazer, clawing at his dress shirt to grip his firm biceps, as his lips found yours again. 

When Steve pulled back, he was a sight to behold. Your lipstick smeared across his mouth, his eyes glistening —almost in tears from the strain of his cock. It was clear he needed this as much as you.

By next week the two of you will savor each other for hours. His lips will trail down your body, appreciating every inch. He'll have you writhing on his tongue as he tastes you, not just for your pleasure but for his own. His skin will bear the marks or your lipstick, love bites and scratches, as you stake your claim. You’ll take him into your mouth, where he will cum down your throat before he fucks you. When he finally slides into your pussy, he'll make you cum repeatedly on his cock until you can't take anymore, begging for him to fill you. Hair slicked with sweat, voices raspy and breaths panting, it will be nothing short of perfection. But this moment, here and now, with the slight implication that you could be caught, will be a fast, but fulfilling need for release. 

"Raincheck on-?" 

Steve cut you off, nodding profusely, "How do you want it?" 

"Take me from behind. Been dreaming of you bending me over that desk." 

Steve groaned pulling you into another kiss, before he moved you towards his desk. He pulled out a condom from his wallet, before he began to undo his pants. Your eyes trained on his hand's movements until he freed his cock, boxers and slacks falling around his knees.  

Steve chuckled when you let out a gasp. The rumors were true, Harrington's hung.

Thankful you'd opted for no tights today, you slid down your panties and turned to bend over the desk. Steve groaned at the view, your plaid skirt framing your ass as he spread you apart, taking in the sight of your dripping pussy. You looked more than ready for him, but he needed to be sure. He ran two fingers through your folds, gently pumping them into you.

You slapped your hand on the desk at the feeling, muffling the moans that were leaving you with your other hand. 

"Ahh shit," Steve growled. 

"Please, Steve, give it to me," you begged.

You didn't have to ask him twice. He rolled the condom over his cock, and lined himself up thrusting into you forcefully. He didn't offer you time to adjust but the initial pain quickly melted into pleasure. Steve couldn't contain himself, whispers of how good you felt falling from his tongue. 

"Harder Steve, harder, harder," you pleaded, trying your best to keep your voice to a whisper.

He obliged, his hands firm on your hips as he thrust relentlessly. After a few breathy moans from both of you, he slipped his right hand between you and the desk, fingers finding your clit.

You had to stifle a shriek at the dual stimulation, gripping the desk tightly, your ribs colliding with the wood, sure to leave bruises that you'd admire later. 

"Do you like that, baby?" Steve whispered.

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yeah, yes, s'really like that."

"Fuuuuuck. Are ya free this weekend? Wanna take you out."

"Mhmm."

“Gonna fuck you properly after," he groaned. "You're so fucking beautiful, can't wait to see all of you.

His words brought you closer to your release, and he could feel it. "Fuck, baby, are you about to cum?"

"Y-yes."

"Me too," he whimpered.

"Sweet & Sour, Heart Devoured"

Turn’s out, you'd been right —it was all that pent up tension. After your first hookup, Steve’s focus immediately returned.

Your coffee exchanges resumed, but the drawn out moments were no longer necessary now that you were spending time together outside of work.

That "DND" sign was tucked away and forgotten until two months later, when he considered offering you a special birthday treat -an afternoon delight. But you both knew better than to hook up at work again.

At Thanksgiving, Steve and you stopped keeping your relationship to yourselves when he invited you to spend it with his family. You were apprehensive about his father's reaction, but it wasn't an issue. In truth, it wouldn't have mattered to Steve if it had been. Had his father disapproved, and insisted it couldn't continue, Steve would have quit without hesitation. 

Steve had fallen for you, and looking back, he realized it was inevitable. It took one glance for you to captivate his attention, so of course the more time spent together, he'd hand over his heart.

Now all the times you lay tangled in his sheets, your fingers running through his hair, and "Baby" softly falling from your lips —he reflects on the moment you agreed you'd be the death of him.

Because in those moments, he couldn’t think of a better way to go.

[thelonelyshore-if]

The fog immunity question made me wonder about something else about the powers again.

It's more about the mechanics of it though. So, you said multiple times that the powers are a sort of balance, where if you lean too much into it, it will be very bad but too little and it won't really be usable / controlled. But what does that mean "gameplay wise" so to speak? For the time being, I don't believe we had any checks related to powers, considering our MC didn't even discover their power yet. Now, some choices may have influenced what the power may be I assume, but as far as I know, no actual checks yet, right? But anyway, once MC discovers their power and it's "set in stone" for the game, I guess we'll start getting instances where MC can chose to use said power or something else instead, and using it would raise the "skill level"? But does that mean we'll have to balance very carefully how many times we use the powers to grasp them but not be consumed by them? Or does that mean only using them in some specific circumstances while doing so in others will "make it bad"? Something else instead?

I know it's a weird question but I'm always paranoid about stuff like that in games so I prefer knowing how it actually works so that I can be mindful of it.

Howdy! Thanks for the ask. I'll try to explain a little more below the cut c:

To start out, you're totally right: there are no stat checks related to the magic/powers yet. And there (likely) won't be until the point in which the MC's magic choice is locked in. I won't say that 100%, because that's a while away, but that's my current plan.

And hm. I'll do my best to explain without getting into spoilers, but I'm sorry if it still ends up unclear!

There is absolutely a balance to be had when it comes to using your magic. MC training their powers/skills is important--not knowing how to use them is dangerous--and there's a 'sweet spot' where the magic is stable, more or less.

Frequency of use is a big part of it Using magic every so often isn't a problem, but if your MC starts relying on it constantly, it could raise their chances of being corrupted. For example, a clairvoyant MC trying to see the future in an emergency is different than a clairvoyant MC who uses their magic daily to see the weather, if that makes sense?

Part of it is also how much magic is being used. There will be certain events/opportunities in game where MC (or other characters who can use magic) will have choices that could use a ton of magic. One huge burst of power can be a lot more dangerous than several smaller ones.

There will be a stat tracking this, and it very well might be shown on the stat page for the player to see, but I haven't decided for sure yet.

Apologies that this isn't the most specific, but I hope it gives you a general idea!

[e-dubbc11]

Good morning love! I am SO excited for this event and you're prolly gonna hate me, but I'm all in for the angst right now (damn hormones!) so let's go with song selection of Burning House by Cam, with the one and only Billy Russo.

PS: my son's birthday is Sept 29th too!! <3

Hello my love!! Thank you SO much for following me, reading my fics and being such a kind friend to me, I appreciate you! ♥️ And happy early birthday to your son as well! ♥️

So I listened to the song on repeat one morning while getting ready for work and I had to dry my eyes a few times trying to put my makeup on. You really did go for the angst for billy, didn’t you! I hope you like what I did here and did justice to your ask. I’ll link the song at the end. And you know I could never ever hate you 😘

I know the song is called Burning House but the ocean also inspired this one.

Drowning

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, a lot of it, crying, death (in a way)

Word Count: 1.2K-ish

Summary: Your reoccurring dream haunts you every night. Maybe you said some things you shouldn’t have and wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The world was silent except for the lapping of the miniature waves as they calmly knocked against your body. There was a sense of peace to it yet eerie and unknown. The lack of sound encompassed everything, there were no cries for help, no erratic splashing, and no signs of rescue or wreckage from a boat.

It was just you…all alone.

There weren’t any stars to decorate the night sky, just like on all the other nights you had this dream. It was just a blanket of navy, the sky blended seamlessly down into the ocean with a silvery claw of a moon directly above you.

It was the only light against the darkness which wasn’t much.

But there wasn’t anything for miles, in any direction. No land, no light, and not a soul in sight.

These dreams, or more accurately, nightmares, had no real beginning, all you could recall was that as soon as your eyes opened inside the dream, you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling underwater and had to quickly swim to the surface before you ran out of air.

Once you reached the surface, you inhaled sharply to catch your breath, and frantically looked around for something or someone to hold on to but there wasn’t anything or anyone. There was only a vast space with nothing on the horizon from what you could see of it.

The weight of your clothing made it difficult to keep your head above water as you did your best to rotate your legs like an eggbeater, pushing the water underneath your bottom so your head would remain on top of the water.

The lack of wind created more silence which you didn’t know was possible and that’s when the fear and panic set in. Which direction were you supposed to swim in? Toward land? You didn’t see any!

The water chilled you to the bone which made your muscles tight like thick rubber bands and afraid to use them in fear they may snap in half. And who knows what lurked beneath your feet? It could be wildlife or rip currents…you shuddered to think.

But you had to at least TRY to save yourself.

The highly flavored taste of salt was in the air, not just in the water as it splashed against your lips. Gliding on your side, you forcefully pushed the water away from you, propelling you forward and hoping you were headed in the right direction.

After swimming for awhile, you could hear a faint call for help ahead of you. Was there someone else that was stranded and trying to get to safety? Or was your hearing deceiving you?

The faded ethereal glow of the crescent moon gave you some light and in the distance you could see a figure waving his hands in the air, the white shirt he was wearing made it easier to see him.

The man looked familiar and as you swam closer, you realized why. The handsome face, short well-groomed beard, with eyes and hair that matched the late night sky…it was the man you once loved, and his name was Billy Russo.

Your on again, off again relationship with Billy had become too much for you to handle and it was you who ended it this time but you said some things to him that were out of line and that he didn’t deserve.

But you couldn’t take them back, those words were hurtful and no apology in the world could make you move on and forget about them as if nothing happened.

You did it for selfish reasons, to make yourself feel better, and convinced yourself that it was the best thing for you to do. But in the aftermath, you regretted it, wondered if there could have been a better way to handle it, and you had been lost ever since.

Lost in your dreams of a dark, wide open ocean with no direction of where to go or anyone to help you get home.

But there he was, calling out to you for help, and you thought you could make peace and apologize in your dreams by saving him. But while you were free to try and swim to shore, he was confined to stay there…forever.

His ankle was chained to a weight that went straight to the ocean floor and no matter how hard you tried, there was no way for you to get it off and free him.

“Save yourself, sweet girl.” Said Billy, calmly.

His words slipped into your heart like a piece of broken glass, the ache in your chest would be permanent, and you’d never forgive yourself for it if you left him to die alone.

Billy had been alone for his entire life. He didn’t have family or friends except for the Castle family. He would tell you all the time that he didn’t need relationships or want them. “They make you weak.” He would say.

He kept coming back to you, though.

But his constant mood swings and fits of jealousy kept giving you whiplash and you finally had enough.

“You don’t give anyone a reason to love you. You don’t love anyone except yourself and that’s why you’ll probably die alone. You have to deserve to be loved.” You had said.

You were angry and you didn’t mean it but you couldn’t take it back. His physical wounds from his childhood and from war had faded, still visible but faded.

Those awful words you had hissed cut him more deeply than any bullet ever could and they weren’t true. When bones are broken, they heal stronger than they were before but a broken heart never quite heals the same. The pieces never fit exactly as they had before.

Your dreams were a way you could be with him, make everything right, and to make sure he wouldn’t die alone. They were a way you could fix it all.

Telling him to save his strength was useless, he would use his energy to kiss you and tell you he loved you and you reciprocated, using all of your energy to do the same.

Both of you were incredibly stubborn.

“I won’t leave you, Billy.” You would tell him. “Ever again.”

You and Billy fought tirelessly to try and stay above water but eventually, your strength was going to give out, the muscles in your arms and legs burned like white hot fire and felt like they had been shredded to pieces rendering you unable to keep yourself up.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, but at least you were together when the ocean finally opened up and swallowed you whole.

That’s when you would wake up, still confused, still lost, and still not knowing what to do. It made you sob every single time.

These chilling dreams would continue night after night until you fixed what was broken. Was it possible to fix it? Or was it too late? Would he forgive you? COULD he forgive you?

There was only one way to find out.

I've been sleepwalking

Been wandering all night

Trying to take what’s lost and broken

And make it right

I've been sleepwalking

Too close to the fire

But it's the only place that I can hold you tight

In this burning house

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[iolaussharpe-24]

Barbie in the Mojave - Chapter Two

Thank you to everyone who supported chapter one! You're all lovely!

❤️Taglist❤️

(Let me know if you want to be added or taken off for chapter three. No feelings will be hurt.)

@waywardrose, @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @lunar-ghoulie, @ominoose, @reallyrallyauthor

@steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @have-you-seen-my-sanity, @missdictatorme, @angelitawings

@outey-spacey, @autismsupermusicalassassin, @mandytrekkie

Feel free to ask questions about anything as well. I'm happy to talk about my process with anyone that's interested.

Chapter Two: Bad Smells and Worse Ideas

Barbie and Ken stopped and sat down, exhausted. Both of them were tired and panting. Both of them had sore feet (though Barbie’s were considerably worse because of her heels). Both of them were soaked in water despite never being anywhere near water. Both of them were mourning their perfectly styled hair. Ken’s was drenched and stuck to his forehead, dripping in front of his eyes. Barbie’s had gotten frizzy and wild, sitting on her head like one of the dried out brown bushes they walked past. Her headband wasn’t doing much to keep it under control either. Each and every blonde strand had gained sentience and turned against her.

They had walked a long way. The car wasn’t anywhere in sight anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. The sea of sand had slowly but surely started to become solid rocky ground with dry plants sprouting from split stones and small animals and bugs scurrying into little holes at their feet as they came near.

The sun was setting behind them, making their shadows stretch out several feet in front of them as the air turned cold and the sky began to change colors overhead.

“Barbie, shouldn’t we have found the speedboat by now? This place is like an endless beach without the beach!”

“It’s called a desert.”

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“I think so.”

“Well what did Weird Barbie say?”

“We’re doing what Weird Barbie said.”

“Wandering aimlessly?”

“For the last time, she didn’t give me directions! I was told to drive a sports car to a speedboat to a rocket ship to a tandem bike to a camper van to a snowmobile to roller blades and then I’d be in the real world where I’d find my kid by equally unspecified means! I don’t know what I’m doing or how I’m supposed to do it, but I want to get it done so that we can go back home and everything can go back to normal.”

He contemplated that for a minute, then smiled brightly. “And then, when we can do boyfriend girlfriend things together. Right?”

She nodded, just to make him stop asking questions. “Sure Ken…. It’s getting late,” she added with a sigh. “We should probably camp out… somewhere. Get some rest so we can keep walking in the morning. I was hoping to be done and home by now, but nothing’s been going right, has it?”

It was annoying. Very, very annoying. All of it. She felt like she was going crazy. She knew that there were going to be differences between Barbieland and the Real World. She did. It was a logical inevitability that only made sense. After all, they are two different worlds. Different realities that were affected by one another, but still very much separated from each other. It sounded absolutely insane, but it did, for some bizarre reason, make a weird amount of sense. Like old sitcoms with a supernatural or otherworldly element that everybody treated like a completely normal thing.

Ugh.

Ken was crouched down with a pile of sticks in front of him, hitting two rocks against each other repeatedly. Trying to start a fire. Fair enough. Just like how the sun had seemed hotter than they were used to in Barbieland, the night air, in turn, was colder. Even in the winter, when everyone tended to bundle up in thick coats and fuzzy boots, the cold never really affected them. This did. It was making Barbie’s skin break out into a thousand tiny bumps that gave her a weird tingling sensation as they appeared.

Must be another human thing. Another problem to fix. Like the cellulite on her legs. She shivered at that thought. Would this spread too? At least the cellulite was easy to hide. It was just on her thighs and was easily covered up as long as she wore longer shorts and skirts.

Their clothes sat in a heap near the place they’d decided to call their campsite, despite not having a dream camper or a tent or a backpack or even a sleeping bag – which was the absolute barest minimum of camping gear they could have possibly had on hand. They’d been forced to carry everything while they walked who knows how far for who knows how long and when they finally decided to stop, they’d just dumped everything unceremoniously in the dirt and used their skates, pads, helmets, and Barbie’s hairbrush to hold down their clothes.

She reached up and felt her frizzy tangles. Felt like a bird’s nest. Probably looked like Weird Barbie’s hack job of a haircut. So, just to feel like she had some control over something, she picked up her brush and started trying to tame the beast on her head.

“I think I saw a spark!”

Ken did not see a spark.

Barbie didn’t have it in her to tell him though. Instead, she praised and encouraged him to keep trying. Saying, “You’ll get a fire in no time,” and genuinely hoping that he would. Maybe that was what was so wrong with everything. Fear and negativity. Maybe, if she just tried to keep a positive attitude, and kept smiling, and tried to go on like her world wasn’t turning upside down, she’d manifest that reality and everything would go back to normal on its own. Or, at the very least, they might get lucky.

It took hours before either one of the two dolls could start a fire. And, by the time they did, it had already gotten cold. To keep warm, the two of them mixed and matched the clothes they brought to cover up as well as they could since they tiny flame they made wasn’t providing them with any kind of warmth whatsoever.

Barbie was in a pair of hot pink ankle boots that didn’t match her pants, and a baby blue long-sleeve shirt that didn’t match anything. Ken had closed his jacket, put on a pair of low waisted jeans, and swapped his sandals for his neon yellow roller skates, though he removed the neon pink wheels from the bottom to make it easier on him to walk in the morning.

After a few moments of sitting side by side to keep warm, Ken lifted his head and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“Smell what?”

“I don’t know. Something smells… bad.”

Automatically, Barbie turned her head away from her friend, breathed into her hand, and sniffed. Not great. Not terrible. But not great. Think that this wasn’t what Ken was smelling, she lowered her hand and sniffed as well. That’s when she noticed it. A sour smell in the air.

She scrunched up her nose at it at first.. and then realized that it seems awfully close.

For no real reason at all, Barbie lifted her arm and smelled the underside.

Oh. My. God.

She retched and lowered her arm so fast she was impressed that it didn’t snap clean off at the joint. Ken looked at her, confused, and she forced herself to smile and pretend that it was nothing. Even as she dug her nails into her biceps just to make sure that he arms stayed down in an attempt to keep the smell from coming out.

She didn’t understand what was happening to her. Why was her body doing all these things it wasn’t supposed to? First, she was leaking water, her hair was messed up, then she started getting bumpy, and now she smelled?! And that wasn’t taking the fact that she got lost or the wrecked car into account, or any of things that happened before she left Barbieland. This was all in the past few hours.

What could possibly be going on in this little girl’s life to change her like this? It didn’t make sense. How could anything be so wrong with a human that it punched its way through to another world just to drastically alter a Barbie in so many awful ways? It was like time and space and fate had it out for her or something! Worse than Raquelle at her most infuriating. Worse than-

Her thoughts were cut short by a sound in the distance. It was loud and shrill and, like so many other disembodied noises in the dark, was both familiar and strange. It sounded like a dog’s howl in the middle of the night, but it was twisted. It was wrong. And it wasn’t alone.

More howls accompanied the first like a choir singing a chaotic chorus together. One by one they sounded off, the noise echoing in the distance. Barbie looked out into the darkness ahead, unable to see anything at all. Ken did the same, though for a very different reason. He started walking away from her.

“What are you doing?!”

“Dogs! I want to pet the dogs!”

She stared at him, incredulous. “Ken! We don’t know anything about this place! And that doesn’t sound like Skipper walking a group of dogs to me. There’s no one around. We’re out in the middle of nowhere! This is a bad idea.”

“Hey, when it comes to petting dogs, there are no bad ideas.”

“If we were still in Barbieland where we know all the dogs!”

He wasn’t listening. He was just marching off blindly into the dark, his silhouette growing darker and darker. Blending into nothing.

“Don’t go too far! I don’t want you to get lost!” she called out desperately.

Ken didn’t answer. He might have been too far already.

Despite how annoying he could be, Ken was still her friend. She cared about him. Didn’t want him to get hurt. As of right now, he was the only piece of home she had with her. Well, him and a small pile of stuff she had been forced to carry since the car crashed, but she couldn’t talk to a cute skirt the way she could Ken.

She hoped that he had enough common sense to stay close.

Despite poor Barbie’s warning, Ken couldn’t see any harm in wanting to pet a dog. Or a cat for that matter. Or a horse. He loved horses. More, he suspected, than Western Stampin’ Ken did. Animals in Barbieland were always friendly and cute easy to handle. Always. And the Real World counldn’t be that different from Barbieland. It just couldn’t. Their world was made to resemble the Real World. To fix all of the problems the humans faced. That’s what the Barbies and Kens were made for in the first place. An unfriendly animal, especially a dog, felt nothing short of unnatural to him.

She was just being paranoid. Had to be. He’d never known her to be paranoid before, but he’d never known her to have any malfunctions either. This must be one of them. Yeah, that made sense to him. In fact, it made so much sense that it might have just been the reason why Barbie wanted to do this alone. She didn’t want anyone to see how bad this problem could get! He could understand that. If there was a chance that she could end up like Weird Barbie living away from everyone else in the Weirdhouse with all of the recalled Barbies and Kens, it only made sense that she wouldn’t want anyone to see that. In her position, Ken wouldn’t want that either.

Another howl sounds as he walks. That’s a good sign, right? Means he’s getting close. Like how being far away from something made it look smaller. But in reverse.

Excited, Ken walked faster. He thought about all the dogs he’d met in Barbieland and how cute they were. With their big eyes and black noses and little smiles. He even loved the old Taffy dog with her three puppies. Two of them had bobble heads, and the third one needed to be potty trained. That’s why the Barbie that owned them all always had a few newspapers in her dreamhouse. She always let him pet and play with them when he saw her.

Just as he was starting to smile from the memory, he stopped in his tracks. There was a dog in front of him. A little puppy.

It had tan fur and a cream colored underbelly. Big black eyes that stared straight at him. It wasn’t smiling though, that was weird. But the same black nose he always loved nuzzling his own against. It stood perfectly still, watching him as he watched it.

“Hi there,” he said softly, sinking down to his knees. He slowly held out his hand and cooed, “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. My name’s Ken.”

The puppy stared at him, then stepped forward, sniffing his hand. It yipped at him and two more puppies came out from around the corner to join the first.

In that moment, he just knew that Barbie was going to be jealous. He’d tell her that he found puppies and that he got to play with them, and she was going to look at him and say, “I wish I’d gone with you.” He just knew it. What else would she say? He was right. There’s absolutely no way that petting a dog can be a-

Grrrrrrrr…

That wasn’t a good sound.

Looking up at the rocky side of the plateau, Ken saw two more dogs. Fully grown ones. Their teeth were showing as they growled at him. The blond stood up straight, still smiling. “Hi! These little cuties must be yours.”

One of the dogs jumped down, still growling at him, it’s ears low, teeth bared. Then the other dog jumped down to join the first. And a third came from behind him.

His smile fell at bit as he watched. They reminded him of something… unpleasant. Something he’d seen in some of the older movies while at the theater with Barbie. Maybe she was right… maybe this actually was a bad idea. He hadn’t thought that was even possible until now.

Oh no.

Ken took a few steps backwards as one of the dogs started to snap at him, still snarling while it did. He raised his hands, showing the dog his empty palms. “Woah, woah, easy. Easy. I’m not going to hurt you. Or the puppies.”

A loud BANG! sounded from the darkness, echoing through the valley that Ken had been walking in. Almost immediately after, one of the dogs let out a pained whine unlike anything Ken had ever heard in his life. The others turned and ran away while the one that cried fell to the ground, a thick red liquid soaking its fur on one side. He’d never seen anything like it before and… wow… he was thinking that a lot lately, wasn’t he? The Real World was so different from Barbieland. Even the things that were familiar were different.

He looked down at the dog lying at his feet. It wasn’t moving. Wasn’t making any noise. It was more like the dogs back home that way. But in a bad way. A way that made him… not happy. Very not happy. It was like how he felt when Barbie turned down his attempts at doing boyfriend/girlfriend things to have a party with the other Barbies but it wasn’t that. This was different. Like everything else in this world.

He knelt down beside the dog and put his hand on it’s snout. It didn’t react. The fur was coarse and warm. But… it was getting cold. Fast.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know what was happening. All he knew was that he didn’t like the way it made him feel.

Dirt crunched under heavy boots behind the blond while he knelt over the animal. He looked up to see a man wearing a long coat and a hat standing there. The first person he’d seen aside from Barbie since they left home.

“You lost, brother?”

[aeligsido]

[WM — September 2024] Prompt 6 — Time-Turner.

Rating: G.

TW: none.

Characters: Remus Lupin, Seren Lupin (OC), Mary Macdonald, Sirius Black (in the haunting-the-narrative kind of way).

Additional Tags: actor Sirius Black; celebrity Sirius Black; trans Remus Lupin; past trans male pregnancy; Mary and Peter are great friends I just need to say it; modern au; actress Seren Lupin but she’s just starting; Seren as a wolfstar baby except Sirius doesn’t know she’s his (or Remus’s for that matter).

Summary: Seren Lupin gets the lead role for upcoming coming-of-age movie Time-Turner.

Words count: 975.

A/N: Heya! I dropped this au in @impishtubist askbox some time ago and since it refused to leave my brain I'm now forced to write about it idk. I’ll write Sirius and Remus’ first meeting (in twelve years) for a later microfic I think lmao. Hope you like it! 💕

@wolfstarmicrofic

read on ao3.

-

Remus is worrying himself sick, pacing alone in the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge to make sure the cake is still here, getting the glasses out, putting them back in, starting making tea, forgetting it halfway through the process. He should have joined them after work, but he was too stressed and too scared of somehow destroying Seren’s chances.

It’s her last audition today. Some sort of chemistry test? To see if she gets along with the other actors? It all made sense when she was excitedly telling him about it yesterday again, but it’s like his brain is mush now.

The door opens, cutting him down from his own spiral, and Remus perks up, more stressed out by the whole affair than his daughter ever was.

“Dad! Dad! I got it!”

Seren appears in the kitchen, grinning like the little gremlin she is, teeth out and her brown curls slipping free from the careful braid Mary pushed them into this morning. Her eyes, a circle of dark brown cascading into a warm grey, are shining with delight and joy, and Remus finds himself breathless with love — just like almost twelve years ago, when they put this small, red, squealing baby on his chest with a congratulation.

His daughter jumps into his arms and he laughs in tandem with her. “That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” He lets her free, just enough to put his hands on her cheeks and look at her in the eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

She beams with the force of a thousand suns.

“Thanks! It was so cool, and, oh, you’ll never guess who’s gonna play my dad in the film! And Mister Dumbledore said that we could get a TV show too!”

Albus Dumbledore, one of the most acclaimed film directors still alive, with so many successes behind him — yet so eccentric you could never guess what he will go for next. After a blockbuster about a young crowds of vigilantes saving their world from tyranny, a rather depressing story about a young orphan in the middle of WWII becoming the oppressor, and a passionate but tragic gay romance at the end of the 19th century, a coming-of-age children story is right on par for the course. Time-Turner, as it’s called, will follow a young girl — played by Seren, his own daughter! — discovering her time travel power, while dealing with her mother’s recent demise.

Which makes the father of the heroine the other lead of the film, and someone Seren will have to spend a lot of time with. Remus hopes he’s a good person. Someone nice, who wouldn’t be put-out by her unlimited energy and her never-ending supply of questions.

“So?” he asks as Seren stops talking to take a breath. “Who will play your dad?”

She grins, more excited even than before. She has always looked more like him, in general, with more elegance in her traits and grace in her body than he ever possessed. But like that — oh, like that, she looks just like…

“Sirius Black!” she yells, bouncing on her feet, and she can’t help but do a little, victorious dance.

“That’s great,” he says, croaks out more than anything, and smiles as wide as he can, drowning the drumming of his heart and fear as much as he can. “Why don’t you call your grandparents to tell them the news?” He checks the time. “And your uncle Peter? He should be out of work by now.”

Seren nods and babbles some more and disappears toward her room. Mary, who was standing silently near the door the whole time, finally comes around.

Remus starts busying himself with tea. It’s easier than thinking through his rising panic.

“So,” says Mary, because of course she cannot not say anything. For a brief second, Remus wishes Peter had been the one disponible today — he would have judged silently but not said anything, him. “You never told us Sirius Black is Seren’s father.”

He groans. His face hits the table and he considers staying here forever.

“No one knows,” he finally mumbles. “How did you even guess?”

“He was here today.” She ponders her words an instant. “They’re a lot alike.”

“But he doesn’t—” He stops himself, but Mary has known him since they were kids. She can read him too easily.

“I don't think he does.”

Remus sighs. It’s not ideal; it was already not great when Sirius Black was Seren’s idol, but it will be worse now that they’re in contact. Now that he will be in her life.

“Do I ask how it happened, since you didn’t tell me at the time, or are we doing that later when you can get drunk?”

“Second option,” Remus immediately answers. He can still remember, after all those years, how Sirius kissed him like he was important, the warmth of his hands on his body, the softness of his hair— But they had basically been strangers to each other, several hook-ups to escape boring parties resulting in Remus's panic at his sudden pregnancy and a total loss of contact. And now— Now he has so much to lose.

“I’ll call Peter,” Mary nods sagely. Then, after a beat of silence, “it will come out at some point, you know.”

“I doubt it,” he mutters, prays. “It’s not like he’ll remember me, anyway.”

How could an acclaimed actor, known all around the world, remember a random waiter he slept with twelve years ago? Remus didn’t impact his life the way Sirius impacted his. He’ll never regret it, of course — Seren is the most precious thing in his life, and all the moments preceding her existence were pretty great too — but it's not like Sirius would want to have anything to do with them, anyway.

Remus can at least try to speak it into existence.