#why does it sound so insincere?

[likeumeanit9497]

metal | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n got a few new piercings, and when her best friend matt asks to see them, she can't say no

warnings: smut; unprotected p in v (bad); oral (fem receiving); masturbation (m/f); phone sex; dirty talk; 18+

notes: hiii guys. i feel like tumblr's flakiest writer ever coming back on here every few weeks with a one-shot and telling u all im gonna be more consistent but then just not being consistent at all. i just started a new college program and it is taking up so (!!!!) much of my time, so ive been barely able to put any time towards writing for funsies. soooo it might take me a couple weeks to put out one shots (sad) while im in this program, but i swear im doing the best i can. i appreciate u all so so so so much, but matt girls this one is for u <33

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

With a sigh of relief, I crawled into bed. It was late, and I was exhausted after a long day of dealing with family shit. The only thing that got me through my day listening to my dead-beat father come up with yet another excuse on why he no-showed at my birthday dinner was the promise that, at the end of the day, I would be able to curl up in bed and forget all of my problems. Now that time had come, and I couldn’t wait to turn on some trashy reality TV show and lose myself in their cushioned world for a little while.

Just as I started the show, I felt my phone vibrate beside me. For just a moment I was filled with dread — thinking that I would be once again pulled back into the drama that was my father — but once I saw the name at the top of my screen, I felt my body relax. Matt was calling.

Matt was my best friend, and he had been for years. Him and I met on the first day of school freshman year, and immediately became inseparable. He was the only person in my life who I ever felt comfortable around enough to truly open up to about my problems. There really wasn’t much in my life that he didn’t know, so of course I had told him last night that I was going to see my father, and of course that was why he was calling. Annoyingly, I felt a smile creep up on my face. I hated that I loved how involved he got with my problems; as if they were his own. I would never admit this to anyone, but it really helped because it made me feel less alone.

“Hey you.” I greeted him after accepting the call. “Hey Y/n.” His voice sounded familiar in my ear, and already it calmed the sea of bad thoughts crashing in my mind. “How did today go?” He asked, keeping his tone light. I knew though that if I could see his face, there would be faint lines of concern etched in his forehead. I sighed. “Exactly like I knew it would. He gave me an insincere apology and weak excuse the way he always does.” Matt stayed silent on the other side of the call, allowing me the time to tell him as much as I wanted. His soft breathing through the speaker, however, comforted me and let me know that he was listening.

“He smelled like a distillery and couldn’t stop slurring his words, yet he was still trying to tell me that he hadn’t drank all week.” I heard my voice weaken, and I hated that I felt a lump forming in my throat over the situation. I hated that I cared, and I definitely didn’t want anyone to know that I did; even Matt. But of course, he knew anyways. I heard an empathetic sigh through the phone. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” I rolled my eyes, doing everything I could to keep the tears from falling. “It’s whatever. It’s not like I’m really losing much, but I did tell him that I’m done for good.” I forced my words to come out smooth, like I didn’t care. And I didn’t, not really.

“That must have been really hard, Y/n. I’m really sorry.” Matt’s words were sincere, and they caused the lump in my throat to grow even bigger. I forced out a laugh to keep my other emotions at bay. “Don’t be sorry. It’s better this way. Maybe now I can finally have peace in my crazy life.” There was silence on the line, and I knew it was because Matt wanted me to go deeper about my feelings, but I couldn’t handle much more tonight.

“Anyways,” I started, blinking away my tears and plastering a corny smile on my face as if Matt could even see it, “How have you been? We haven’t talked much over the past week.” At the change of subject, Matt picked up on my disinterest in the topic of my father, and like the best friend he is, transitioned into our new topic smoothly. “I’ve been good, been working a lot but it’s been on exciting things. What have you been up to? You know, besides today?” I chuckled softly.

“Honestly not much besides work. My boss has been really stressed out since the end of last quarter so I’ve been coming into the office early and staying well past five every day.” I paused, staring up at my ceiling trying to think if there was anything exciting I could tell Matt. Suddenly, I remembered that there actually was something that I had done that was more interesting than just working late all week. “Oh! I also got some new piercings last week.” It was Matt’s turn to chuckle.

“Y/n, how the fuck did you fit more piercings on your body?” I laughed. He was right, both of my ears were filled with every piercing imaginable, and I also had my nose, tongue, and belly button pierced. I had already told him that I would never get anymore facial piercings, and I certainly didn’t have much room on my ears to get more, so I understood his confusion entirely. “Do you want to guess where they are?” I teased, feeling relieved to have something to talk about that didn’t make be absolutely miserable for once. “Sure,” I heard what sounded like a blanket rubbing against the speaker, and I assumed that Matt was now getting comfortable in bed, also seemingly enjoying the light-hearted conversation, “But can I get some hints?”

“Sure,” I replied, “You can ask me three questions.” I heard him smile through the phone. “Okay…” There was a pause as he came up with his first question. “How many did you get?” Without hesitation, I was able to respond. “I got three.” There was another pause, and then. “Are two of them a part of a pair?” I laughed at Matt’s not-so-subtle guess. I had told him months ago that I had been wanting to get a certain pair of piercings for a while, and I knew he was thinking of that exact conversation. “Yes they are.” I replied, and there was a dramatic gasp on the line. “Ouch, you actually got your nipples pierced?” His voice was laced with playful concern, and something else. Intrigue?

“Okay okay, you got two out of the three. One more question left.” I encouraged him. If he was shocked about my nipple piercings, I couldn’t wait to hear his reaction to the third. He was silent again for a moment, surely confused by the third piercing. Nipple piercings weren’t that outlandish for me, and he knew that, but this last one is sure to blow his mind. “Oh god, I don’t know. Is it another body piercing?” His tone sounded so helpless, and I knew he really didn’t have a clue. “It is, yes.” I did my best to contain my laughter at this point, not wanting to give it away.

“Is it a second belly button piercing?” The guess was weak, and by the tone of his voice he knew it. “Nope.” I replied, biting my nails in anticipation. He was once again silent on the phone, and I knew he was officially running out of ideas. After a moment, I decided to give him one last hint. “Think lower.”

A new silence poured from the phone. Before, there was the silence of deep thought. Now, there was a heavier silence that let me know he finally put it together in his head. Below your belly button, there aren’t many places you can get pierced. He knew that just as much as I did. But I didn’t know if his silence meant he was just shocked, or if he was genuinely disappointed in me. For the first time since becoming friends with Matt, I felt nervous that maybe I had gone too far.

“You’re serious?” He asked, finally breaking his silence, and I couldn’t help but release a short, nervous laugh. “Yeah. Why? Did I just delve too far into the daddy-issues stereotype?” I tried to keep my tone humorous, but inside I was actually worried that was true. Did he think I was weird now? Or did the fact that I had a piece of metal pierced atop my bundle of nerves immediately turn me into some dirty whore in his eyes?

“No! Jesus, no Y/n.” His rushed words put a pause on my spiralling thoughts, and I felt myself relax slightly. “It’s just,” In that moment, I wished that I could see his face. At least then I would have better odds of being able to read him instead of just waiting helplessly on the other side of the phone. He was struggling to find the words he wanted to say, and in my mind that meant he was getting ready to give me some sort of lecture. It wasn’t something that he was in the habit of doing, but I had also never done anything as shocking as this before. I began to prepare myself for this lecture, and come up with explanations and excuses for what I had done, when his hesitant words stopped me in my tracks.

“Can I see them?”

I stared at my phone for a second, unsure if I was just hearing things. “You want to see them?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, for clarification’s sake. I was shocked. Even with how close Matt and I are, we had never ever seen each other naked. In fact, there had been no physical intimacy between us other than platonic cuddles every once in a while. I would be lying, though, if I denied ever having moments of weakness. There had been times, when we would have sleepovers after tough days and the heat of Matt’s comforting body pressed against me, where I had wanted to throw all logic aside and press my lips to his. But I never would have done it. Matt wasn’t exactly known for his boldness, and I feared that my bad habit of being spontaneous would absolutely destroy our friendship. But now, he had me questioning all of that.

“I’m curious.” He replied, his tone nonchalant. I still couldn’t tell if he was being serious, and I felt like a deer in headlights. Just as I was about to tell him to stop fucking around, my screen lit up with a Facetime call from Matt. My stomach did a flip. “You gonna pick up?” His voice made me jump, but I cleared my throat and hit accept.

Suddenly, Matt’s face filled my screen. He was in his bed, the only light in his room seeming to come from a faint source; likely his computer screen. His face was so familiar, and the smile he sent me so comforting, that I immediately felt more at ease than I felt before. “Hey.” He said gently, and I laughed at the ridiculousness of this moment. “Hey” I replied before shifting my position in bed nervously. “So you were serious?” I asked awkwardly, and he nodded. “If you’re okay with it, obviously.” I took a deep breath. I was okay with it, of course, but it was just so out of the norm for us that I felt shell shocked.

“I’ll show you nipples first.” I said, sitting up in my bed before grabbing the bottom hem of my oversized t-shirt. I positioned my phone in front of my still-clothed chest, and watched his face on the screen. He laid naturally in bed, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but the way his dilated blue eyes were glued to the screen I could tell that he was feeling the same kind of anticipation that I was. Slowly, I finally lifted my shirt up over my chest; allowing him a full view of my new piercings.

I intentionally left the shirt up to block my own vision, because I couldn’t handle watching him stare at my tits for the first time. In the dark, all I heard was silence for what felt like forever, and I got worried that I had somehow lost him. Cautiously, I pulled my t-shirt away from my eyes, and glanced at him on the screen. He was staring intently; I could see his eyes move from one tit to the other every few seconds, and there was a slight grin across his face. “Wow.” He said finally, still taking them in. “Those are sick piercings.” I stifled a laugh at the fact that he was still trying to act like it was all just about the piercings, and that there weren’t two tits attached to the metal. “Thanks.” I replied, a small chuckle still evident in my voice.

I allowed him a few more seconds of shameless staring before speaking again. “You ready for the third?” I watched as he blinked a few times and took a deep breath. “I can’t wait.” He replied, causing my stomach to do another flip. I brought the phone back up to my face as I laid back down, smiling at him nervously as I pulled my comforter off my lower body. I was only wearing a pair of panties, so I already felt shy when I positioned my phone in between my legs. I used the front camera still, hoping that it would allow him a better view, but hated that you could still see the lower part of my face.

Matt hadn’t moved in his bed since I looked at him last. In fact, it almost looked like his image was frozen. His eyes were still glued to the screen, and he seemed to be barely blinking; as if he was scared that if he did, he would miss it entirely. “Okay, ready?” I asked, using the hand that wasn’t holding the phone steady to grab onto the side of my panties. Even in the almost-dark of his room, I could see him gulp before nodding his head. “Ready.” He replied.

Slowly, I hooked a finger under my panties, and pulled them to the side. In the blink of an eye, all of me had been revealed to Matt through a screen inches away from my core. My eyes veered back and forth from myself in the phone and Matt’s expression. I could see the shiny metal glitter against my pink clit, and watched as Matt visibly struggled to keep his composure. Neither of us spoke for a moment, and I felt myself begin to tremble under his shameless stare. I grew nervous, then, that my body would begin to give away how suddenly aroused I became under his eyes. My core was flooding with heat, and I knew that I was beginning to grow slick with my wetness.

“Does it hurt?” He finally spoke, but his voice had changed drastically since I had last heard it. It had dropped nearly a whole octave, and there was a sort of breathlessness to it that was foreign to me. It was the voice of arousal, and that knowledge was enough to drive me crazy. “N-no, it doesn’t,” I replied, using all the strength in me to not squeeze my legs together to relieve some of the pressure flooding my core. “It’s been a week, and these sorts of piercings heal really quick surprisingly. I can touch it and everything.” My last sentence fell from my mouth thoughtlessly, and I immediately felt my cheeks grow hot at my accidental boldness. That didn’t last long, though, because Matt’s next words pulled all that heat right back to where it was before.

“So touch it then.”

It was like all the sense was knocked out of me from his words. I would have thought that my instinct would have been to laugh and roll my eyes before telling Matt to knock it off, but the seriousness of his tone, the sharp blue of his piercing eyes, and gruffness of his voice caused my brain to shut off. Immediately, my hand traveled to my bud, where I began to slowly play with the metal. Although I had been telling the truth when I told Matt that it was fully healed, I hadn’t yet touched myself in this way since getting it pierced, and the new sensation immediately sent pleasurable shock waves through my body. As I began to slowly rub my clit, the metal added a new level of pressure to the nerves that — combined with the adrenaline that came from doing this in front of my best friend for the first time — caused me to throw my head back against my pillows.

“Tell me how it feels.” Matt’s deep voice filled the space around me in a way that made me feel even more erotic, and I released a soft moan. “I-It feels good.” I replied breathlessly, my fingers beginning to move quicker as I squeezed my eyes shut in pleasure. “Better than before?” His question came out slightly choppy, and through the phone speaker I heard the rhythmic shuffling of his comforter. “Y-yes. Much better.” I managed to reply, the thought of what he was doing to himself on the other side of the screen pushing me closer to the edge.

“Look at me.” He commanded, and without hesitation I lifted my head up; looking at him through the screen. He could only see the lower half of my face, but I could see all of his. As I continued toying with myself, I watched him through fluttering eyelashes. Although his face had not changed much — besides the darkening of his pupils and the faint accumulation of sweat on his brow — the repetitive movement of his bicep at the corner of the screen told me everything that I needed to know. “You look so good.” He complimented me, his voice low and gravelly. I moaned in response, rolling my hips slowly as I began to grow antsy with a need that I knew I couldn’t fulfill myself.

The pleasure was growing like a balloon deep inside of me, but my own fingers weren’t enough to reach it. Not now; not when I have a beautiful man that I trust more than anyone else watching me with that dangerously erotic gaze. Just like Matt knows everything about me, I know everything about him. And so I know that, in this moment, he wants the same thing that I do. That’s why I didn’t feel any unease or hesitation when I drew my fingers away from my clit, ran them achingly slow along the rest of my heat, and spoke.

“Please come over Matt.”

It was a request that I had made to him countless times. Those times I was usually close to tears after a long day of dealing with the shitty cards I had been handed in the family department. I needed him then, like I need him now. In those times he never ever hesitated, and this time was no different. In one swift motion, I watched through the screen as Matt lifted himself out of his bed, threw on a t-shirt, and grabbed his keys off the bedside table. “I’ll be there in ten.” Just like my request, his response was the same as always. As I told him to drive safe before hanging up the call, I felt my body vibrate in a way it never had before. I pulled my hand out of my panties and waited in desperate anticipation for the familiar sound of his car pulling into my driveway.

𓆩☆𓆪

Matt arrived at my place in eight minutes, and as soon as I saw his headlights through my window, I sprung out of bed and raced to the door. There was no nervousness, no reluctancy, no questioning whether or not we were making a big mistake; all I knew was that I needed his hands on my burning skin desperately.

I flung the door open before he even had a chance to knock, but Matt didn’t hesitate before pulling me into him and engulfing my mouth with his own. Although we had never kissed before, it wasn’t shock that I felt in that moment; it was the melting satisfaction of familiarity. I practically collapsed in his arms as his mouth moved against mine as if they were two pieces of a puzzle, and relished in the feeling of his hands travelling wildly across my aching body at last.

As he held me gently against the wall, I felt his hardened member press against my core, and I shuddered in pleasurable frustration. In that moment, I could have lost all self control — pulled his pants and boxers down in one movement and slipped his cock into my aching core right then and there — if he hadn’t grabbed onto my ass and lifted me off of the ground. Without removing his lips from mine, he carried me past my entrance way and all the way into my dark bedroom as if he had memorized every square inch of my place.

As he continued to kiss me with hungry desire, he paradoxically draped my body gently against my bed. Leaning over me, his mouth refused to leave mine and his tongue begged me for entrance. I obliged, and our tongues swirled together with comfort; as if they were old friends. The sound of our heavy breathing filled my head, and I ran my hands along his body; allowing myself to feel him in a way I never had before. Each part of him felt familiar — his back, his arms, his stomach — but each new part of him I touched set off sparks of electricity under my fingertips. This was real, and this was good.

It was only after I began toying with the waistband of his pants, and he the hem of my shirt, that our lips separated and we really looked at each other since the moment he arrived. Both of our chests were heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I gazed up at his darkened eyes for what felt like forever, until a soft smile crept onto his swollen lips. “Hi.” He said, and I released a short laugh realizing that this was the first word either one of us had said to the other since hanging up the Facetime call. “Hey.” I replied, a smile matching his now etched onto my face.

“Can I take this off?” He tugged on the bottom of my t-shirt, and I nodded. “Please.” I replied, feeling no shame in my clear desperation. Matt obliged, pulling the shirt up over my head and exposing the tits he had seen on Facetime not long before. There was a pause, and for the first time since we started all this I felt briefly insecure. That is, until I looked up to his face and saw his jaw physically dropped in awe. He looked like he had fallen into some sort of trance, and mindlessly brought his two gentle hands toward my hardened, pierced nipples. He ran a soft thumb against each piercing, and I hissed at the deliciously taunting sensation.

“Do these ones hurt at all?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but his eyes never left my chest. “These ones do a little, yeah.” I replied, to which his eyes finally fluttered up to my face with slight concern. “But it’s really not that bad.” I added, reassuring him out of fear that he might suddenly not want to continue. This seemed to help, as his eyes made their way back to my chest before his body suddenly began tilting forward. He leaned above my chest, really only centimetres away, and I watched as he placed two small, unbelievably gentle kisses against each hardened nipple. The ecstasy I felt in that moment caused me to release a soft moan, and goosebumps spread across my skin like wildfire, and I suddenly realized that I needed him more than ever.

As if reading my mind, his mouth then began moving slowly down my writhing body. He took his time on my sternum, then the skin below my belly button, then my hip bones, and I felt like I could explode. My hands flew to his hair and I subconsciously tugged at its base in decadent frustration. And then slowly, so, so, slowly, Matt began dragging my soaked panties down my legs. I felt like I could crumble under his gaze, but his eyes never left my newly exposed core. Blinking ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees and grabbed my shaky legs to part them. Once he did, I watched as he groaned softly at what he saw.

I knew without having to look that I was literally dripping from arousal, and that hunch was confirmed when Matt took one finger and dragged it along my slit; collecting the overabundance of fluid. He didn’t even take his eyes off of my centre, he just brought his wet finger to his mouth and wrapped his lips around it; so transfixed by what he saw in front of him that he didn’t even care to make a scene of tasting me for the first time. I had never felt more glorious than I did in that moment, and it was so overwhelming that I could have came just from sight alone.

Slowly, Matt’s mouth inched closer and closer to my clit, before he carefully wrapped his lips around it. Upon the first contact of his warm tongue playing with the cool metal of my piercing, I was hit with a powerful wave of pleasure that shook my whole body. As he picked up speed, swirling and sucking my bundle of nerves, I couldn’t control the sounds that fell from my lips. Moans of pleasure, pain, and anticipation filled the room, and they only seemed to draw similar ones from Matt.

Matt slid two fingers into me with ease, and began pumping them in and out in rhythm with the movements of his tongue. His fingers were curled up to just the place I needed them to be, and I felt what was left of my sanity begin to crumble as I approached an orgasm. The orgasm that I had been desperately needing since our Facetime call. It’s impending presence had taken control of my mind for what felt like forever, and now it was finally threatening to take control of my entire body. Yet, still, I needed more.

Quickly, before the first waves could crash, I pulled Matt’s face away. Immediately, his blissed-out expression quickly changed to one of concern, but before he had the chance to speak, my desperate voice filled the room. “Please Matt, I want to cum with you.” His features softened before understanding flashed in his eyes. Without saying a word, he stood up and began unzipping his pants. I waited in anticipation, watching with hungry eyes as his painfully hard member sprung free from his boxers. Once he had fully discarded his clothes, he leaned down and kissed me so deeply that I saw stars. His mouth tasted like me, and I couldn’t help but slip my tongue past his lips; intoxicated by the combination of me and him on my tastebuds.

I felt his naked member press against my core and I shuddered from pure lust. I was so engulfed in the intensity that I was afraid I would fall into pieces as soon as he slid into me. Breaking the kiss, Matt straightened himself out and grabbed my legs before placing them on either side of his waist. The two pieces of us that needed each other the most right now were just inches from one another. My eyes fell between my legs, and I watched in euphoric awe as Matt grabbed his swollen member, lined it up with my centre, and slowly pushed into me. His movements were so torturously, deliciously slow, my eyes rolled and my head fell back onto the mattress.

On each slow roll of his hips, his cock slammed into my g-spot and made my vision go spotty. I held onto his flexed shoulders like I was drowning and they were my life raft, and I released harsh guttural moans each time my walls stretched; welcoming him graciously. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Matt’s raspy voice fluttered my stomach, and I opened my eyes to come face-to-face with him. He was staring down at my contorted face with a look filled with nothing but pleasure and adoration. His flushed cheeks and dark pink lips gave him a look that bordered on innocent, but there was a certain hint of hard focus in the depths of his ocean eyes that told me he was feeling as good as I was.

Each time he thrusted into me, the soft crest of his pelvis brushed ever so lightly against my new piercing; granting me a new form of pleasure that I had never experienced before. I had been told by other people that the piercing can be intense during sex, but I had underestimated just how intense it would be. I had no sense of control as Matt’s cock continued to drive into me, and I couldn’t help but vocalize how he was making me feel.

“J-just like that Matt, fuck!”

“Your c-cock fills me s-so go-od!”

“H-harder, please baby!”

At my last statement, Matt showed he was listening by suddenly slamming into me harder and faster than I had ever felt before. He grabbed my legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist, and as I arched my back in pleasure he draped one of his arms around it and used the other to hold my jaw; brushing it lightly with his thumb to ensure me that his gentleness had not completely disappeared. His breathing quickly grew more and more rapid, and deep grunts fell from his mouth every few seconds.

I was hit with shockwaves of pleasure upon each of his thrusts, and I knew that my orgasm was closer than ever. I dug my nails into his back and tightened my legs around him in a desperate and subconscious attempt at getting as close as possible to him, and it was clear that there was no stopping the orgasm that was bubbling inside of me. “G-gonna cum Matt.” I squeaked out, rolling my hips up slightly deepen his thrusts even more. “Good girl, want me to cum with you?” His words were in my ear, and even the dampness that his mouth made against my skin added to my unraveling euphoria. Beyond the point of being able to speak correctly, I simply nodded my head frantically.

As I did, Matt released the deep moan that pushed me over the edge. My orgasm took control of every cell in my body, and I cried out in overwhelming pleasure as it tore me to shreds. I felt my body stiffen so much that I was practically lifting off of the bed, and my walls pulsed intensely as I squirted violently all over Matt. Just then, I felt Matt’s body stiffen above me, and his movements became a whisper as he cursed into my ear. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” His moans rang in my ear with each of his weak thrusts, and I felt his twitching cock paint my walls white as he came undone in unison with me.

Eventually, his body stilled completely, and he rested above me as we both caught our breaths and came down from our highs. His cock slipped out of me, and I immediately felt cold and empty in its absence. After a few moments, Matt lifted his head from my shoulder and gazed at me with a soft smile on his face.

“Damn.”

“I know.”

”I mean, that was-”

“I know.”

We continued to stare at each other, both with matching smiles on our faces, until I dissolved into childish giggles.

“What?” Matt asked, unable to keep himself from laughing as well. “What?” He asked again, nudging my shoulder gently as I giggled. “I mean come on,” I continued to laugh, “That was crazy. Don’t you think it was crazy?” I looked at him, starting to feel the first hints of regret now that it was over and we had to go back to being friends. “I don’t think it was crazy.” He replied simply, before bringing his lips back to mine. This kiss was different than the other ones we shared tonight, though. There was no hunger, no lust. There was just love.

He pulled away after only a few moments, and I looked back at him with what I was sure was confusion all over my face. “I have never felt less crazy in my life than I’ve felt tonight.” Matt continued, and I felt my stomach flutter, “Tonight, everything finally feels right.” I felt a bashful smile form on my lips. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the exact same way. “So,” I started, unsure of how to maneuver this, “What now?” Matt got up.

“Well,” He began, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and using it to gently clean me up, “It’s late and you’ve had a long day, so I think we should get some sleep.” I propped myself up on my shoulders and watched as he began to clean himself next. “And then when we wake up tomorrow, we’ll go get some breakfast and talk about what we both want.” He walked into my adjacent bathroom and started the shower, the way he has done a thousand times before, before walking back to where I was and helping me off the bed.

Once I was on my feet, he placed another gentle kiss against my lips, and I felt my insides melt at the comfort of his touch. “But if I’m being completely honest, which you know I always am, I think we both already know we want the same thing.” I looked up at him through nervous eyelashes, and had to chew my bottom lip to stifle the massive smile that was threatening to take over my mouth. Matt had no problem showing his huge smile, and he tilted his head quizzically in my silence. “Am I right?” He asked, and instead of responding with words, I leaned up and placed a kiss of my own on his lips.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[avocado-writing]

i'm not a very big chain person, but in my head i can picture so perfectly Logan getting him and his s/o a matching pair of chain necklaces or bracelets to quietly express his love and commitment. because, in comparison to other forms of jewelry, chains are durable- it's hard for a quality chain to break. to him, they signify how the bond you've fostered together is unbreakable too.

if he manages to get them in adamantium, there's the added layer of gifting you something made of the same material as his skeleton. his way of gifting you a part of him, of always being with you... ;-;

He used to wake up to a pounding skull and a truly bitter hatred of the world. A constant stream of alcohol had managed to silence the first issue - or, at least, make it tomorrow Logan’s problem - but had just made the second one far worse. 

He knew he was a mean drunk. Wade never shied away from letting him know what a cunt he was when he was ten drinks deep, but it was easier to face life when he stopped trying to be gracious to it.

The world had never cared about him, so why should he care about it right back?

That was… before, though. Before you. Not exactly some sort of holy light but you’d been damn well close. Someone he’d wanted to get his act together for, try to break free from the cocoon of rot and misery he’d made for himself. 

So, nowadays, he wakes up to soft singing and the smell of frying eggs. 

You’re an earlier riser than he is, slipping out of his grasp somehow - he always tries to grab you and keep you in bed with him, despite your dramatic but insincere protests - and getting a start on your day to make the most of it. You’re so much more of a functional person than he is that it’s laughable (Wade has pointed this out a couple of times, while laughing, and you’d talked him down from giving the merc a claw through the eye). 

He drags himself to his feet and heads into the kitchen. 

The radio is on quietly and you’re half-humming along with it, trying not to be too loud so as not to wake him. You can’t help but sing and secretly it’s one of those little things he fucking loves about you. It’s how he can tell you’re happy, so he never wants you to stop. 

You hear him appear and turn with a smile so bright it outdoes the morning sun. Ahh fuck, and you look amazing. Those short pyjamas that highlight the curve of your ass, those stupid fuzzy slippers you constantly leave around the apartment for him to trip over…

… and there, around your neck and resting on your clavicle, the chain. 

He’d never been good at gifts, but he knew he wanted a way to match you. Something to look at in his own reflection to remember you’re waiting for him at home; a part of him to carry with you so you know he’ll always keep you safe. Your eyes had lit up when you’d opened the jewellery case he’d handed over, neatly wrapped by the store, and then welled with tears when he’d shown you his own one. With blunt, uncareful fingers he’d fastened the clasp at the back of your neck, breathing in the comforting smell of you when you’d wrapped your arms around him. 

“I’m so lucky to have you, Logan.”

He’s more lucky to have you. You shine in the sun and so does every adamantium link. A fucking beacon in this world for him. A lighthouse. Bringing him home. 

“Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?” you ask, turning the music off now he has your full attention. He considers this and smirks. 

“Mmm, if I say yeah, do you have to find a way to apologise?”

You grin at the huskiness of his early morning voice and the promise of what’s next, turning off the heat on the pan before inevitably forgetting and burning the eggs. As you step into his arms he knows what the rest of the morning will entail: he’ll take you back to bed and show you how much you mean to him, three or four times if he can coax it out of you, then you’ll head to the diner across the street to eat because you’ll be too boneless to do much of anything else. 

Sounds pretty fucking perfect to him. His mind flashes to the ring he has in its little box, the one he bought at the same time as the chains and keeps stuffed in one of his jacket pockets, and is sure one day soon he’ll have the courage to give that to you too. 

Taglist: @mildly-salted @belilwen @malfoys-demigod @falsewordz @tvwebs @getmeoutofhell @rush-the-stars @s1eep-o @yrthr @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @childeslegstrap

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[whxtedreams]

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love.

A Jackson!Joel x f!reader oneshot

Summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: Jackson!joel, mentions of ellie and her AMAZING puns, Tommy providing comfort, pain, heartache, fear, anxiety, love, apologies, kissing, desperation. reader has she/her pronouns as i write in third person POV, reader has hair Joel can play with, reader has no other descriptions- photos for aesthetic purpose only.

Main masterlist

With pain and heartache, she watched him live without her. 

Her eyes watched every move he made. Every step he took. Every smile he blessed those around him with.

It was an aching reminder of what could have been. The weight of their unresolved past seemed only visible to her. Every breath she took a battle in the heaviness in her chest.

She longed to reach out, to bridge that gap between them she did not realize had begun to form until it was too late.

But the fear of making what little they had left worse held her back. So, she stood in silent agony, her heart breaking as she watched Joel from across the bar.

Tommy had found his way to her, a smile of sympathy and drink in hand. His eyes filled with sadness and understanding, a silent acknowledgment to the suffering.

He knew, after all. Knew how prone his brother was at breaking those he cared for. Tommy had been broken too. 

He held the drink out to her. “Thought you could use this,” he said softly. His voice was gentle like a comforting embrace. 

Her eyes slowly pulled away from Joel as she accepted the drink. She watched the liquid within swirl around in the glass and she found herself hypnotized by its movement. The memory of Joel's drunken state when he pushed her away resurfaced, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The sight of the drink in her hand now felt like a cruel reminder of his harsh rejection.

“He’ll come around, always does,” Tommy said, his hand gently placed on her shoulder.

The words were meant to comfort her, but they felt hollow and insincere. She knew the truth, deep down. This time it felt different, a finality to Joel’s actions.

His absence stung, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. She forced a small nod, struggling to feign optimism. "He said he could never love me." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Tommy sighed. His hand fell from her shoulder. He cast a glance at Joel, then back at her, conflict and concern etched across his face.

Her eyes trailed back to Joel, drawn by Tommy's gaze. There he was, laughing heartily at Ellie, her pun book in hand as she hunched over in laughter.

The sight of him happy and carefree, the sound of his laughter filling the air, made her heart ache. She tried to hold back the pain, to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help but yearn for the past.

"He's scared of losing you," Tommy said.

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing the silent weight that rested on her shoulders. She knew he was right, that fear had been a driving force behind Joel's actions. But it didn't make it any easier to bear the hurt and disappointment his fear had caused. She nodded silently, her gaze fixed on Joel and Ellie, their joyful exchange a bittersweet contrast to her own internal turmoil.

Her eyes left Joel and locked onto Tommy's. "If he's so scared of losing me, then why did he push me away?" she asked, her voice quivered as tears threatened to escape her eyes. The desperation and confusion in her voice hung in the air, seeking an answer that she knew might never come.

Tommy's expression softened as he looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

 "He's lost a lot, I suppose he'd rather push you away on his terms than let fate do it for him.”

The pain of Joel’s past losses echoed through her mind. She knew the weight of his pain had shaped him, had forced him to build walls around himself. He'd rather sever ties than risk the hurt of losing someone he let himself love, even if it meant losing them in the process.

Her eyes slowly returned to Joel and as their gazes locked, she saw the intensity in his eyes. It was clear he had been watching her, their gazes drawn to each other like magnets. There was something different in his eyes, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She held his gaze for a moment, questioning the thoughts and emotions that flickered across his face.

Did he regret it? she thought, her mind filled with uncertainty. Did he miss her like she missed him?

Did he still lie in bed, reaching for her in the early hours of the morning? Like he had on those nights under the stars during their journey to Jackson.

Did he still clench his fists by his side or fidget with the watch on his wrist when he didn't know what to say? Did he miss her taking his hand in hers to distract him?

Did he wish that he loved her?

Or did he regret it all?

"It might not seem like it anymore, but he cares for you," Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I saw it when he carried you in, see it now." She turned to him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but there was none.

Only honesty and concern reflected on her.

Her gaze returned to Joel, drawn by his movement as he stood from the table.

His eyes were on her, only her.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration as she handed the glass back to Tommy. Ignoring his call for her, she turned and walked out of the bar, desperately needing some fresh air and space to collect her thoughts.

The night air hit her as she stepped outside, cold and crisp, and it provided a respite from the oppressive atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart and tumultuous emotions.

Oh fuck, she thought. She fucking missed him.

And as if her heart seemed to call for him, she heard the door open once more. She turned to see Joel step out, the soft light of the moon bathing them in a silvery glow. It was as if the night itself tried to bring them together.

She looked at him from behind watery eyes, her emotions threatening to overflow. In turn, he watched her with eyes that mirrored her own pain, a reflection of the suffering that had come between them. They stood there under the night sky, silent and yet speaking volumes, each knowing the depth of the other's heartache.

Only difference was, he had caused all of this.

The unfairness of it all, the weight of the isolation and pain he had inflicted upon her, pressed down on her like his own heavy hand. He stood there, the cause of her heartache, while she endured his consequences alone. The anger and anguish in her heart flared, but it couldn't overpower the deep love and longing she still carried within her.

Joel didn't utter a word, and she didn't expect him to. Instead, he closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight embrace. His hand rested on her head, his touch gentle and comforting as he cradled her against his chest. His nose to her hair. Her hands trembled as they clutched onto the fabric of his jacket, holding him tightly, as if she was afraid he might disappear.

He pulled back slightly and lifted her face gently. His fingers traced her cheek as if his touch would break her. Their gaze met, and she saw the well of pain reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper that hung in the night like a fragile thread.

From anyone else, the apology may have felt hollow, meaningless. But from Joel's lips, it held a weight and significance that she understood. For an apology from him was rare and precious, like discovering clean, fresh water in the middle of a vast wasteland. The impact of his words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within her heart. She could feel the significance of each syllable, was a lifeline in her sea of despair. A flicker of hope in the darkness that had enveloped her heart.

"I should never have told you to leave." He spoke again, his voice choked with emotion, his eyes never left hers.

The words hung heavily in the air, a confession of regret that cut deep. A single tear slipped down his face, a testament to the depth of his remorse. It was a crack in the stoic facade he often wore, a glimpse into the depths of his own hurt and guilt.

She had never seen him cry.

The tear, a crystalline droplet that glistened on his cheek.

"Why did you push me away, then? As if I never meant anything to you," she said, her heart shattered by his own hands.

Joel shut his eyes, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm on her face. His other hand clenched tightly at the fabric of her waist, while the one holding her face remained gentle and tender, a stark contrast to his tense grip.

His voice trembled as he spoke, each word laden with truth. "I'm so scared I'll let you in, only for you to die on me," he confessed. "I can't lose you too."

His fingers trembled against her skin. She reached up and gently took his hand in hers, bringing it to rest over her heart. It beat a steady rhythm under his palm, a silent reassurance that she was there, alive and breathing.

“You are losing me Joel.”

Joel opened his eyes, so full of pain as he took in her words.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was a mere whisper against her lips. And then, a breathless moment.

His lips delicately touched hers, a whisper-soft kiss filled with tenderness and vulnerability, as fragile as a butterfly's wing. It was as if he were afraid to press too hard, to cause her any more harm than he already had.

As quick as it began, it was over. He pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before he tucked her head back into his chest. His fingers played with her hair as he looked up at the starry night sky and she could feel his body relaxing as he held her close.

"If the Lord gave me another chance, I would go back and make things right," he said as his heartbeat quickened beneath her ear. Her hand found its way to his chest as it laid over his heart soothingly, if only to calm the anxiety that had taken root within him.

"All I do is miss you. I can’t sleep, can’t eat. I was so stupid to push you away," he confessed, his chest shuddered with a soft sob. She pulled back slightly, only to witness a torrent of tears streaming down his face. The single tear had multiplied as it turned to a river of sorrow that spoke louder than any words could.

She gently wiped the tears from his face as her own fell silently in tandem.

His bottom lip trembled, and without a second thought, she did what came naturally to her. Her lips found his in a tender kiss and she could feel the tension in him slowly melt away as he released a shuddering breath.

His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. He poured months of pent-up emotions into the kiss, a mix of regret, yearning, and a love so powerful it threatened to consume them both. Teeth scrapped against teeth, a primal collision of passion and desperation. It was a moment of intense connection, a release of the feelings that had been locked away for far too long.

Her back shoved against the hard surface of the wall. His hands roamed over her body in a desperate attempt to re-familiarize himself with every contour, every dip and curve. It was as if he was trying to memorize her all over again, as if he were afraid she would disappear from his grasp once more.

The pain she had carried with her began to fade away under the onslaught of his lips against hers, his touch hungry and urgent. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fingers clenching the fabric tightly as if she was afraid to let go. Afraid that if she did, he too would slip through her grasp once more.

Their mouths explored each other fiercely, the taste, the feel, the essence of each other an intoxicating drug that they had been deprived of for too long.

So desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

The sound of the bar doors opening shattered the intimate bubble that had enveloped them. Noise spilled into the night air from inside as they hastily tore themselves away from each other. Their gazes locked with Tommy's as he stood frozen in the doorway, surprise etched across his face.

Tommy's eyes flicked down to where Joel's thigh had found its way between hers. "Jesus Christ, can you two make up somewhere else?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Joel's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he chuckled, out of breath. His calloused hands held her face tenderly; the rough pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks. He looked down at her with tenderness and amusement, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Tommy mumbled under his breath as he walked back inside.

“What do you say, come home?” he asked. A hint of hopefulness in his voice, tempered by the fear that shone in his eyes.

“Do you love me?” She asked.

“I want to try.” He said without a beat.

“I think I can live with that.”

The night was quiet, the silence only broken by the soft whisper of the wind as it blew in through the open window. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of the stars outside, their light danced through the gaps in the curtain that fluttered in the breeze.

Joel's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his body wrapped tightly around hers. He inhaled deeply; his breath warm against her neck. His arms encircled her, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid to let go. He was seeking comfort in her presence, finding solace in her warmth and familiarity.

She was too afraid to sleep. Worried that when she woke, he would be gone once more.

As the first light of day crept through the window, her eyes slowly opened and she expected to find an empty space beside her. However, his grip on her remained firm as he pulled her closer into his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he slept peacefully, forever reaching for her. A wave of relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She made a silent vow to herself as she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. No matter how far he tried to push her away, no matter how much pain spilled from him and to her, she would never let go of him again. She would fight, crawl, and struggle with every ounce of her being to get back to him.

With comfort and love, she watched him sleep by her. 

Notes

this was meant to be around 0.5k but it just kept going??? also Flora writes about kissing as someone who’s never been kissed so as always, take it with a grain of salt as i have no idea what i’m talking about lol - should honestly be a warning itself had a yucky day so here's some hurt & comfort also the starting line and ending line match and im proud of that lol.

[murdrdocs]

dark content; ghostface!luke; explicit sexual content; MDNI

you have your suspicions that luke castellan isn't the man he portrays himself to be.

beneath his mournful gaze, woven between his sorrowful words, you're so sure that luke is insincere. his words of condolences to other campers lack a certain depth. his motivational speeches, always on the topic of remaining brave in the face of fear that these tragic incidents are creating, are disingenuous.

it's only natural that you have to investigate.

sneaking out past curfew on nights you weren't patrolling, offering to take up someone else's shift or just being there to provide a second set of eyes. but not on the scenery. on him.

because you're fairly certain that the monster isn't coming from outside of camp.

eventually you catch him standing in the center of the strawberry field facing away from you, swinging his sword as if the weapon is simply attached to his arm, the infamous mask described by others sticking out of his back pocket for you to notice.

you've seen luke fight. he's trained you in combat. you know that if he wanted to kill you, he would barely have any trouble doing so.

you would put up a good fight, but you would end up on your knees, waiting for the fatal blow.

is that why you don't bother fighting in the first place? or is it for some sicker, more sinister reason?

you like to think that your lack of resistance derives from knowing deep down that it would have failed. but it's hard not to consider the other implications whenever luke is smirking down at you, holding the weapon he affectionately introduced as backbiter to your neck, and your blood is rushing to places it shouldn't be.

your limbs should be taking most of the blood flood, creating a vibration in your legs and arms that would get you out of this situation quickly if need be. instead, your blood has rushed to your center, creating a thump! thump! that luke's hand—cupping your mound under your bottoms and above your panties—definitely can feel.

confirming your suspicions, luke's eyebrows furrows as he speaks. "is that?..."

your throat dries out. your nostrils flare as you take a sharp inhale designed to disguise the way you urge to roll your eyes back when luke starts to rub his hand along your center.

"are you turned on right now?"

the way he says it is so fucking cruel, but you honestly can't blame him.

it's deplorable, your behavior. your head tipped back not only to attempt to avoid the sharp tip of luke's blade against your jugular, but also because luke's fingers pumping in and out of you is so sinfully delicious.

here, in the middle of the field, surrounded by strawberries with the scent wafting to your nose with every gust of wind, you hope that the wind doesn't carry your noises.

the two of you are only lit by the torches off in the distance and the moonlight up above, providing a shameful spotlight onto your bodies. one standing strong and tall, shoulders pushed back with assurance and horrifying confidence making his gaze hard as he stares at you over the slope of his nose. and the other, slumped over with your head resting on luke's shoulder as an orgasm forces itself through your body.

it's wrong to curl up in the arms of a killer. it's idiotic to feel safe there.

backbiter has been stabbed into the dirt, sticking up straight, and with his freed hand luke cups the back of your head, stroking the area while his fingers replicate a similar motion in your panties.

"sh, it's okay, just let it happen, angel," he tells you, voice a rough whisper.

(does his voice sound deeper, or is that your subconscious acknowledging his sins?)

"i know you're feeling guilty, being with someone like me." he chuckles dryly as your orgasm fades out. "but it's okay. i promise you. i won't hurt you."

you know you shouldn't believe his words. but this is luke, the guy you at least thought you could trust with your life.

you do know you can trust him to give you a good orgasm, as his fingers refuse to stop within you, the digits picking up speed despite your feeble protests in the form of wobbly words.

[thewertsearch]

Kanaya <3

This is the first troll we've seen who's not a newborn grub or thirteenish-year-old Player. I guess they pupate directly into a scaled-down version of their adult body.

She looks barely larger than a grub, so it can't have been long since the trials, assuming the Sburb trolls did them at all. The comic has never elaborated on what these trials entail, but I think this is the first aspect of Homestuck's universe that I don't want a loredrop on.

GA: I Dont Mean Hes The Universe You Are From GA: We Engineered That Incarnation GA: He Is The Universe That You Are Trying To Create

GA: That Statement Was As Literal As You Can Possibly Make Words Be GA: I Know Your Species Is Frequently Insincere For A Variety Of Reasons GG: but your species is too! […] GA: Thats True But When We Do It Its Usually Just Because We Are Trying To Be Jerks

And when you're trying not to be jerks, too. Alternia is just kind of.... like that.

GG: i try to say what i mean as much as i can GA: Yeah I Think Ive Been Discerning That GA: Its A Nice Change Of Pace […] GG: haha, you mean from rose?

Jade knows what the fuck is up. Maybe it's her turn to wingman for Rose.

GA: I Wont Be Speaking To Her Anymore Though GG: why? GG: oh yeah, because you said she is blacked out? GG: what the heck does that mean! GA: It Just Means In A Few Moments From Your Perspective I Wont Be Able To See Her Through My Viewport Or Talk To Her

The blackout occurred while these two girls were in conversation, meaning Rose is about to message Jade right as it kicks in.

This message is obviously important - but what could it be? Is Rose trying to warn Jade about the circumstances that cause the blackout, in order to protect her from its effects?

GA: She Has Been Relying On The Powers And Counsel Of Dark Gods And Other Sources Of Ambiguous Intent GA: And She Has Consequently Devised A Plan Which Sounds Very Dangerous To Me GG: yeah, i didnt like the sound of her plan either! GA: You Are More Sensible GA: Its Probably The Influence Skaia Has Had On You GA: Having Spent Much Of Your Life Awake On Prospit GA: Like Me

We've talked before about what Dream Moon affinity really means for a Player. The theory I liked the most was that Prospit kids are predisposed to follow their fate, whereas Derse kids are inclined to defy their destiny.

This seems like more fuel for that fire, as Rose's acts of desperation and defiance clash with Jade's more levelheaded, 'sensible' attitude. rose, you're going to break something! :o

[strawberrystepmom]

narumi x f!reader. long distance relationship, reader is visiting him in tokyo. starts off angsty but gets jokey/suggestive toward the end. | wc 1.3k, divider thanks to my belovedest @cafekitsune

“I don’t think I can live without you.” 

A spark, an unmistakable fire shines in his eyes that grow wider every second he spends staring at you. He’s trying to approximate or perhaps, more accurately, choreograph your reaction. It’s a habit which is less out of character than most would assume about the man who plays off his feelings as insincere in an effort to keep his shell intact. 

If he assumes how you’re feeling, he can never be surprised. Projection isn’t the enemy, you are if he makes it that way, even as harmless as you appear sitting cross legged on his futon with your knees touching his. 

“How could you do this to me?” The question is spat from his tongue. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours and cupping your cheek. You’ve taken so much from him; his freedom, his heart, his fucking sanity. 

How dare you force him to leave the only home he has ever known - himself - too?

Smiling, you shake your head once and then tilt it to the side, curious and patient. You are no stranger to his outbursts yet this one seems…different. He’s wound tighter than you’ve ever seen him and clearly conflicted so you ignore the uncertain beating of your own heart to focus on his feelings.

“Where is this coming from?”

There’s no mocking in the question yet he feels like nothing short of the butt of the joke. It could be your wry smile, the sweet curve of your lip that he has yet to convince himself isn’t too good to be true, playing tricks on his mind. You must be a siren or a witch, possessing his body and mind enough to convince him that he’s bleeding out whenever you aren’t around to press yourself against the gaping wound of his distrustful heart.

At least that would give him an explanation for all of this. His behavior isn’t his fault, it’s out of his control, it’s you. That smile and those eyes, your too loud laugh and the pathetic way you say his name when he ventures too far from you when you’re out in public. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Gen admits, voice shaky and deep. “With any of this. With you.”

You imagine this is how he sounded when he was younger, up and coming in the ranks of the JAKDF and not a commander standing atop a hill he climbed with little but determination. The mantle of greatness wasn’t thrust upon him the first day although the signs were there and he’s struggled to keep up with his own expectations.

The distraction that gazes up at him with eyes the size of full moons isn’t helping. You’ve flown across the world to come see him a half a dozen times and that doesn’t include the time, the years, spent online talking to one another. The reality of the situation remains that this is as fleeting as anything else he has ever experienced. 

You could change your mind and return home whenever you wanted to, not in the scheduled 18 days from this very moment. You could stop answering his calls and messages, leaving them unread for hours or days or months until the ghost of his grip no longer haunts your hips, until he grips his weapon as tightly as he once held you if only to remind himself that he ever did.

People always have their secrets, their internal worlds they’ll never share with anyone. He does, or well, he did until you came along and insisted on dragging him out bit by bit. Disarming him with honeyed words and even more syrupy kisses.

“Gen.” You say his name and he wishes it weren’t a guiding light out of the depths of his own fears. “Look at me.”

He follows the light anyway and eyes that he’s been intentionally trying to hide beneath thick bangs meet yours. Still smiling softly, always smiling, you slide your hands around his waist and stop just short of climbing into his lap with your foreheads pressed together.

“Why do you think you’re the only one here who feels that way?”

This is exactly what he means. You always catch him off guard. He nearly flinches at your question, lips twitching with the desire to speak though he can’t quite find the words. You’ve never been one to let silence linger lest it breed miscommunication so you continue, taking a deep breath.

“Every day I wonder if it will be the last. You could wake up one day and decide you don’t want this anymore and frankly, I’ve been waiting for it to come. The day I arrive at the airport and you aren’t there to pick me up.” It’s your turn to glance away, gazing down at your crossed legs instead of meeting his eyes that you feel even if they’re absent from your vision. “If it isn't that it could be a kaiju. Or debris. Or an accident. Anything, anytime could take you away from me. Do you think I just sit here and feel alright about it?”

This is the honest truth, even if he may not believe it. “I don’t think I could live without you either,” you admit quietly, more to yourself than to him. It’s a possibility you’ve told yourself could come true a thousand times if you’ve done it once but you can’t control everything, least of all him.

The two of you have done a number one another. If it weren’t so romantic, it’d almost be pitiful.

His tense posture softens, shoulders rolling forward. The hand cupping your cheek falls away from your face to wrap around your ankle, pulling you closer to him so that you are practically in his lap. It’s where he wants you to be anyway.

“A kaiju is nothing you have to worry about.”

“So that’s what you took from all of that?” Raising your eyebrows incredulously, he shakes his head and smiles. “Let me finish?” A question in response to a question. You close your mouth, brows still raised, willing to let him say his piece. 

“I’ve never let anyone see me the way you have.” Opening your mouth to argue, he stops you by shaking his head, tapping into that commanding presence he rarely uses when it’s just the pair of you. “And I’m not talking about seeing me naked so don’t even go there and it was only a few times anyway.” 

Despite yourself, you giggle. You’ve always been an open book yet he reads you like a story he knows by heart, stopping you before you begin on a rant about his wild nights at a love hotel years before he even knew you existed half a world away. 

So much has changed since then. He sighs and pulls you against him, chin resting on your shoulder. “I’m talking about everything else. You’ve seen me sad and happy and fuck, scared like I am right now.”

He gazes up at you, kissing your jaw, mouthing his words against your flesh.

“I don’t want to imagine a day without you.”

You hum in agreement, nodding against the side of his face. Both of your hearts pound against your chest.

“This is like mutually assured destruction,” you joke although it isn’t much of one if you’re honest. 

Chuckling, he kisses down your neck, arms wrapping tightly around your hip. “Then let’s do everything we can to stay intact, yeah?” 

You inhale sharply when he squeezes your hip, leaving a touch you’d have to be dead to forget behind.

“Don’t ever leave me,” you whisper. Part of you hopes he didn’t hear you but in an instant, your hopes are proven wrong when he tips his head upward to kiss you, the promise of an uncertain forever on his tongue.

“You have to stop leaving first.” The words are muttered back sweetly, the fear that was palpable just moments ago dissipating with every touch and kiss. You lean into the firmness of his chest, the frenzied beat of his heart against your arm.

“Ask me to stay and I will forever.”

Giving him an out, you lean back in for another kiss. 

He has 18 days left to figure out how to ask.

[itsjaywalkers]

a lil smth under the cut for u guys <3

part 2 part 3

"Potter, if you dare to step any closer, I swear I will knock your teeth out."

Potter halts his advancement as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, but Regulus remains tense, alert, shoulders stiff and hands itching to curl into fists. Maybe it's because he knows Potter more than enough after all these weeks of watching his matches and interviewing him after them. Weeks of listening to him brag, and taunt, and flirt shamelessly, despite Regulus always being set on retaining some sense of professionalism.

Maybe it's because of the way he smirks at Regulus' threat, or how he raises both hands in mock surrender, the gesture lazy and insincere.

Or maybe it's the fact that they're alone in the ring, even though Regulus should've left with his crew more than half an hour ago. And the fact that Potter isn't wearing a shirt, but he seems to be allergic to them, anyway, so it's not like it fazes him at this point.

That's what he keeps telling himself, at least.

"You can certainly try," Potter says with his hands still up, and offering a tiny shrug. "I don't know if I like your chances, though."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "You don't think I can fight you?"

"I don't think you can win."

He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets out a scoff, and Potter's smirk seems to grow bigger at the sound.

"And why the fuck not?" Regulus questions.

"Because I'm a professional boxer, love," Potter explains, his voice patient, but there's a certain mocking edge in his words that makes Regulus grits his teeth. "I wouldn't be where I am if someone like you could touch me."

"Someone like me?" Regulus repeats a bit incredulously. He can already feel that one vein in his forehead starting to pop out.

James chuckles, shaking his head a little. He finally drops his arms down. "You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't. And I'm not sure I want to."

"C'mon, love—"

"Don't call me that."

"—you don't even know how to throw a punch."

Regulus blinks at him, not sure if he's heard correctly, and then he does a double take, barely repressing a derisive snort.

"Excuse me?" he murmurs. "Of course I know how to throw a punch."

"You think you know how to throw a punch," Potter corrects him, that infuariating smile still in place. Regulus is tempted to prove him how well he can actually throw a punch just to wipe it off his face.

"I mean, obviously I can't do it like you do, you're a professional athlete, for fuck's sake—"

"Oh, love, don't worry, I'd never hold you to my standards," Potter intervenes with a laugh, eyes shining with mirth. Regulus face is beginning to heat up, and he isn't sure if it's because of anger or something else. "I'm not talking about a boxing punch. I'm talking about a proper punch."

Regulus exhales loudly, fingers twitching. "Potter."

"Yeah?"

"I know how to throw a fucking proper punch."

Potter raises an eyebrow and he lets his gaze to go up and down the length of Regulus' body, slow and intentional. Regulus has a hard time not squirming, battling against his instincts to keep his face empty, to stop his thighs from pressing together.

"I bet you don't," Potter comments, once his eyes finally find Regulus' again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make breathing any easier. "You're too pretty to have been getting into fights."

Regulus is unable to suppress an indignant huff, cheeks coulouring at an alarming pace while his expression twists into a scowl.

"You don't fucking know me," he seethes, jaw so clenched it's slowly becoming painful. "You've got no idea of how my life looks like, or what I've done to get where I'm at."

Potter seems unbothered by the outburst. In fact, he kind of looks a little entertained.

"Maybe so," he concedes with a tilt of his head. "But I know you'd break easy."

Regulus' heart skips a beat. "I don't—"

"Just look at you," Potter goes on, staring him up and down once again. He still sounds slightly mocking, but there's something else in his tone this time. Something darker. "So fucking gorgeous. Holding yourself like you're goddamn royalty. You're feisty, and you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but you'd fold embarrisingly fast against me, wouldn't you, love?"

Regulus gulps, throat suddenly so dry it feels like sandpaper. He tries to shake his head, but his body isn't responding, and when he opens his mouth to snap back, nothing comes out of it.

"You like to act all tough and cold and as if nothing can touch you, but if I were to lay my hands on you—"

"Potter," Regulus manages to spit out, but it sounds hoarse. Weak.

"Oh, you'd break so beautifully for me, right, love? You'd put a bit of a fight at first, because you can't help yourself, and I like that about you anyway, but you'd let go at some point."

"Potter," he tries again, and it sounds a bit sharper, but still too close to a whimper for Regulus' tastes.

"I'd fucking ruin you if you allowed me to, Regulus." His name makes him tremble, goosebumps breaking into his skin, and Regulus has to bite his tongue to stop an inappropriate noise from escaping. "I know you want to. You're really fucking stubborn, and you almost fooled me that first time, that's true, but one can only keep that facade for so long. I've seen how you look at me."

"And how do I look at you?"

"Like all those girls who can't ask me for an autograph without blushing, thinking of me when they have their hands between their legs," Potter responds, gaze so intense it makes Regulus want to scream. "Like your cameraman whenever I stand a bit too close to him, always shifting his body the slightest bit so his shoulder grazes mine. Like Lily whenever I'm between her thighs, and she's begging me to let her come."

Regulus almost gasps, burning with fury but also with something that has nothing to do with it.

The audacity of this man, really. Regulus hates him. Despises him, even. Him and his absurd amount of confidence that has no business being this attractive.

It's hard to pretend to be unaffacted. To pretend he doesn't feel a stab in his stomach by that last statement, by the thought of James and Lily being together, even though it's something he's known almost since the beginning. To act like he doesn't care, like he isn't fucking aching between his legs, wet and hot and desperate.

Regulus doesn't think he completely manages it.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," Regulus grinds out, digging his nails into his arms so hard he's sure to leave marks.

"And yet I'm not hearing you deny it," Potter sing-songs, still grinning widely.

"I don't like you," Regulus insists, raising his chin.

"But you want me to fuck you."

This time, a strangled sound, high-pitched and bordering on needy, manages to slip out of Regulus' mouth, and James shows teeth, that feral light that appears every time he wins a match shining in his brown eyes.

"You wish," Regulus says, trying to save whatever dignity he has left, trying to fix this stupid mistake, this amateur slip up.

"I do," Potter confirms with ease, and Regulus can't swallow properly with the knot he has stuck in between his vocal chords.

"Shut up," it's all that Regulus can get out, which is quite pathetic, but still better than nothing.

"That's still not a denial," Potter points out, satisfaction oozing of him and making Regulus see red.

"I literally can't fucking stand you. I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you that I don't want anything to do with you," Regulus snaps. "Besides, if so many people are tripping all over themselves for you, then I don't understand why you're not bothering them instead."

"Because I want you."

Regulus actually chokes after that, a gulp of air getting stuck in his throat and his heart beating madly between his ribs.

"No." He shakes his head, furiously, desperately, and takes a step back almost at the same time that Potter takes a step forward.

"Yes," the other man presses, undeterred. "I want you, Regulus."

"Potter. Shut up."

"I can make you feel so good, love. You need to stop depriving yourself."

"Potter."

"I know you've thought about it. About me. I'm sure you're thinking about it now, about how amazing I'd feel between your legs, on top of you. Inside you."

"Potter. Stop."

"I bet your underwear is fucking soaked—"

"James."

It slips, sneaking past his lips without Regulus' permission, going unnoticed until it's too late to stop it, or take it back. He has the silly urge to cover his mouth with his mouth, as if that'd be enough to erase the word, the power and implications that name holds.

The reaction is almost immediate.

James' pupils spread out, eating at his irises at a concerning pace. Regulus is so distracted looking at them, that it takes him a moment to realise James is advancing, rushing towards him like a man on a mission.

Regulus retreats, nearly falling over in his haste, doing his best to get as far away from the other man as possible. But James is faster than him, and his back ends up colliding against one of the pillars of the ring. James has his arms bracketing his head in a matter of seconds, and all of a sudden, Regulus is trapped. With absolutely nowhere to go.

"Get away from me!" Regulus exclaims, voice all wrong and wobbly, hands coming up to push at James' chest but not daring to touch.

"Say it again," James demands, completely ignoring him.

"What?"

"Say it again."

Regulus scoffs weakly. "I don't want to."

"Regulus."

"Get. The fuck. Away. From me."

"Regulus."

It shakes him to his very core, and he's helpless to the shudder that rattles his frame, to the way his eyes screw close, so very tight his vision fills up with shiny spots.

When he opens them again, a few moments later, he ends up meeting James' hungry gaze head on.

It destroys the last of his defences.

"James," he repeats in a whisper, heat coiling in his stomach at the other man's intake of breath.

"Again," James asks, almost demands, voice low and strained.

"James."

"Again." And it's a beg.

"James."

"Yeah," the other man mumbles to himself. "Yeah."

James leans forward, and Regulus feels like he's about go into cardiac arrest until James turns his head at the very last second, mouth grazing the lobe of his ear instead of his lips.

"I'll teach you," he tells him softly. Quietly.

"What?" he asks, hardly breathing and refusing to move a single muscle.

James huffs, and it's amused. "How to throw a punch."

"My brother already taught me," Regulus retorts with a roll of his eyes. "And he's better than you."

"Was better than me," James shoots back, and despite this being a topic that usually annoys him, always getting him all petty and defensive, it barely drags an irritated sigh out of him this time.

"Winning one match doesn't mean anything."

"Except that it does."

"No, it doesn't. Sirius' been unbeatable for literal years, and he's worked his arse off to get to where he is, and you'll never—"

"C'mon, love," James whines against his ear, and Regulus has to swallow a gasp. "I'll lend you some comfier clothes and I'll show you how to stand and some tricks, make sure next time I'm being too much of a prick you can shut me up nicely. Maybe you'll even break my nose."

Regulus bites his lower lip, refusing to allow the corners of his mouth to curl upwards. "That does sound good."

James chuckles, and Regulus doesn't acknowledge the way that sounds fills his chest with warmth.

"So? Okay?" James wonders.

Regulus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hopes he won't come to regret this, and sends a silent apology to his brother.

He opens his eyes.

"Okay."

[inhuman-obey-me]

Hi! Love your work, and congrats on 4000+ followers. May I request 🗡️ + Beelzebub with MC? I think it be interesting.

Thank you for your fantastic work!

Thank you so much!! ;//u//; We're glad you do!

"Let the knife leave its mark." - Beelzebub/MC

content warning: blood, MC into Beel being demonic

The tension in the air is palpable, thick enough to cut through and heavy enough to suffocate. 

You’re not supposed to be here, but here you are – hidden behind a large stone column as a scene plays out in this room, a scene you are not meant to see. 

“Lord Beelzebub,” voice laden with insincerity, the lesser demon takes a deep bow before the Avatar of Gluttony. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this private audience?”

“I’m pretty sure you know the reason, Kernal.” Beelzebub’s response is cold. It’s rare for you to see him like this, no trace of warmth nor compassion. “Or do you really think I’m that stupid?” 

“Stupid? You? Of course not! I’d never!” There’s a nervousness now that seems to creep into Kernal’s smile. “You know me, I’m just a bit forgetful. I really don’t know why you’ve sought me out today.” 

“Right.” A faint buzzing sound begins to fill the room, and you realize Beelzebub’s wings have begun to vibrate. “I guess you would be the kind of demon to just forget.” Each word is dripping with more anger than the last, a crackling energy of malice settling in like a shroud around him. “Then I guess I’ll just have to remind you.”

As the lesser demon lets out a shriek, you swallow your own as your hand quickly goes to cover your mouth. Beelzebub had lunged forward, his claws now sunk deep into Kernal’s flesh as he slams him down on a table, the metallic scent of blood quickly pervading the room. 

“Do you really think you can just throw out threats so casually?” The Avatar growls, and you can see his form beginning to shift as his mouth seems to grow wider, teeth sharper. “Did you think you could lay out a trap like that and hide it from me?” 

“P-please,” Kernal’s body writhes in the other’s grasp, and you can make out dark ichor dripping from his lips. “I don’t know w-what you’re – ack – talking a-about!” 

You had forgotten about this side of Beelzebub. You couldn’t help but be fascinated. 

“Still playing innocent, really?” Beelzebub snarls, letting go of the lesser demon and taking a step back – no, you realize he’s turning to get something. Is that…silverware? “Maybe cutting you up will finally make you confess. Either way, it’s a meal for me.” 

“No, please! I-I’m one of your loyal followers, you know that!” Kernal tries to get up, but he’s quickly pinned down again by his superior. “That…that human is making you weak! I just want you to be the best you can be, and that means that d-damn human needs to go!” 

Ah. 

You get it now. The reason Beelzebub had looked so grim earlier, so grim that it caused you to secretly follow him here. This demon was trying to hurt you.

“Weak?” Beelzebub spits out the word, and the buzzing gets louder, and louder. You can barely see his wings as they rapidly beat. “The only weak one here is you, Kernal. In fact, the only thing tough about you is the meat on your bones. Meat I’ll gladly carve right now.” 

You move to take a step back, debating whether you want to see the gruesome conclusion to this encounter, but nearly trip over yourself in the process – and it does not go unnoticed.  

“...Who’s there?” 

Shit. Maybe if you don’t say anything, they’ll think it was a random animal.

“I can smell you.” His voice is still low, but it’s softer as he calls out to you. “MC…how long have you been there?” 

Realizing there’s no hiding now, you slowly step out of the shadows, trying to focus on your demon. “Well, kind of the whole time. I-I followed you here. I’m sorry! I just got worried with how you were acting earlier and…” Your gaze slowly trails to the other. “Here we are.” 

“O-oh, please, tell him to stop!” Kernal begs, looking to you with wide eyes as he hopes for some kind of rescue. “He’s going to take a bite out of me!”

You notice that Beelzebub is still gripping a knife in one hand, hovering just above the lesser demon’s chest. He seems to hesitate now, seeming embarrassed that you caught him in such a state. 

“It’s okay, Beel. I won’t interfere.” You give him a reassuring smile, morbid curiosity getting the better of you as you take a few steps to be beside him. This is a scene that should make your stomach churn, an act that should fill you with nightmares. 

It magnetizes you instead.

“Let the knife leave its mark.”

[yuesya]

The Lord of the Vortex.

There is none who does not know the name of Osial, That Which Lies in The Deep. The most powerful god of the Hydro element. He who commands authority over the tempestuous seas, who controls the monsters of those very same waters.

The bird remembers that the– the–

Remembers that the Mistress of Dreams had treated the Lord of the Vortex with honeyed smiles and wary caution. Knows that the Lord of the Vortex is a god of war and battle, even despite the genial countenance that he dons an agreeable demeanor, complete with cold eyes that make it clear the god will not suffer any disagreement to his commands.

“Will you not say anything, little bird?” The Hydro god arches an eyebrow coolly. “Answer. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Involuntarily, the bird’s hands twitch. Its throat tightens, and words simply –refuse to rise to its tongue. The bird does not know the reason why.

Quicksilver images flash through its mind. White hair, and blue eyes.

I don’t have orders. Just go.

… The new Master –Not-Master?– had not made any demands for obedience, nor compelled any vows of secrecy from it. And yet, the bird finds itself reluctant to speak of the young god to the Lord of the Vortex, who has already slain countless foes whom it deemed a threat, monsters and gods alike–

“Who killed Malphas?” Impatience is beginning to creep into the sea god’s voice. The faux-friendly air about the god is fading swiftly; the Lord of the Vortex’s mood is known to be as mercurial as the storms that rise over the seas that he rules. “If you will not sing for me, little bird, then clearly you do not need that useless tongue of yours.”

The threat is crude, and unsubtle. There’s a faint tremor of fear that the bird can feel fluttering inside its chest, but even so, it remains silent.

A cruel smile splits across the god’s face. Jagged teeth elongate into fangs, as the manifestation of the Lord of the Vortex’s power destabilizes the human shape that the god has chosen to take. “So be it. Die knowing that your loyalty to a dead, worthless god is what killed you.”

(Its god isn’t dead. Not dead, and not worthless)

You can wake up now.

Anemo swirls around the bird’s feet in a violent gust as it summons the last dregs of its power in defiance of the Lord of the Vortex. Truthfully, to one who’d been forced into the service of the Mistress of Dreams, death is not the frightening prospect that the Lord of the Vortex appears to believe it is–

“Osial. Cease your posturing.” An authoritative voice suddenly rings out from –above? The bird glances above, just in time to see a golden shower of Geo energy coalesce and condense into a human form. Tall, male. There is an air about this new arrival that makes them seem implacable, and immovable.

… Another god.

“If a single human who has been displaced here dies to your carelessness,” the Geo god states, amber eyes glowing, “Then know that I shall revisit this upon your seaborn kin threefold.”

The Lord of the Vortex’s form shimmers like the haze of a watery mirage, then smooths out into the image of a blue-haired human man once more. One who appears bored and unaffected, instead of ready to release its power mere moments prior.

“Ah, Morax.” The Lord of the Vortex smiles, bright and insincere. His delight upon seeing the new god who’d just arrived is genuine, but it’s the sort of delight that’s associated with bloodshed. “I’d wondered if you’d be coming to take a look at this interesting little spectacle as well. Haagentus isn’t around to keep ahold of your leash today?”

“We are allies of equal standing,” the other god does not sound amused. “Return to your waters, Osial.”

Morax, the Groundbreaker. One of the most powerful among the host of adepti in these lands, a god of Geo whose mastery over the manipulation of earth and stone was unparalleled. Another god whom the Mistress of Dreams had been rightfully wary of, especially since the Groundbreaker was in an alliance with Haagentus, the Lord of Dust. Haagentus was a gentler god of Geo, who was not known for her physical might, but rather the keenness of her mind instead.

“You and what army?” The Lord of the Vortex retorts, and sweeps out a hand around him with an exaggerated flourish. “Or do you care nothing for your precious land-bound humans, hmm?”

The Groundbreaker’s eyes narrow. The Lord of the Vortex laughs.

“Little bird,” the sea god says, not once lifting his gaze from the other god even as he addresses it. “I’d advise you to start talking. Morax isn’t nearly as patient as I am.”

The Groundbreaker’s gaze turns towards the bird. “… You know of what transpired here?”

The bird tenses.

“Knows, and refuses to utter a single word about it,” the Lord of the Vortex chuckles. “How very loyal, isn’t it?”

The Groundbreaker’s attention shifts towards the dark barrier stretching up into the sky behind the bird, assessing. “That barrier…”

“Don’t break it.” Somehow, the words blurt out from its mouth. The bird is seized with the urge to duck its head as soon as both gods immediately look towards it, but… this is something that must be said, before either one of the powerful gods decide to do something that would be deeply regrettable.

“Oh? And why not?”

“This barrier, it…” Body folding into a bow before both gods, the bird recalls what the white-haired god had explained to it. The god who’s still doing her best to combat the lingering traces of the Mistress of Dreams’ powers, even now. “The… aftereffects of the Mistress of Dreams’ death is being contained within. Please don’t break it.”

“Hm.” The Groundbreaker frowns. Then, stiffens slightly, because–

“How interesting,” the Lord of the Vortex smiles. Beneath his feet, the ground ripples, with a texture not unlike that of rippling waves. “Morax, if you and Haagentus are dealing with the results of Malphas’ unfortunate demise, do you think Chi might be grateful for the opportunity to finally feast with his darling children?”

Amber eyes widen, then narrow in fury. “You dare–”

“You should not have slain my bride-to-be’s brothers and sisters,” the Lord of the Vortex’s smile darkens. Hydro energy engulfs its body fully, a blue glow that causes the humans around the god to attempt to scurry back even further, to start running–

The bird is already moving before it fully realizes what it’s doing, forcibly swallowing bitter guilt and reproach over the words that it should not have spoken. Fierce winds whip beneath the bird’s feet, hastening its movements as it lunges forward to get the fragile humans out of the way, as many as possible–

Water erupts from the ground, amid the Lord of the Vortex’s delighted laughter–

“Osial!” The Groundbreaker roars thunderously, and the very earth trembles in response to the god’s outrage.

[second-wife-playbook]

@helluvaoutlaw

Coronis had always wanted to come to Wrath. To visit. Wrath was a wilderness with a capital W. The desert that stretched off into the horizon, it's many suns and volcanoes, and it's people...wily, strong, and with quickfire tempers. She had seen it replicated on TV, with adventures in the lawless lands, cowboys and the like.

Well this was an example of; be careful what you wish for.

The transport going through the desert likely boasted some stunning views, but Coronis wasn't seeing any of them. She felt out of place, paralyzed with terror. Her high-society gown was completely unsuitable to the rough terrain, and every time the vehicle jostled over the rough robe, she felt her breathe catch and her pulse quicken.

Andrealphus looked unconcerned. Why should he? He wasn't the one about to become a meal.

"You're so overdramatic. It could always be worse." That was what he said. That was the fucking audacity the Marquis had when Coronis was strong-armed to the ground, hands and feet tied and the horrors explained. "You will be remembered as an exalted martyr, and spare the family a terrible fate. What more could a noble want, really?"

To live, goddammit! To actually live, and not get eaten by a fucking snake-god!!!

Cori had tried to protest. But apparently such attempts at mercy were unpalatable to the ears of her brother and her fated executioner. A simple gesture was all that was needed to tape her beak shut, unable to make a peep aside from muffled whimpers and cries. She wasn't even given the courtesy of knowing what she was being sacrificed for.

The convoy stopped outside of a volcano. A lone cave awaited, with a rough looking imp in a robe bearing a serpent with terrifying eyes. He looked displeased to see the Marquis and Coronis, but nonetheless gestured to a lone minecart. "This will take her right down." He explained gruffly. "Beware Goetia. The Great Destroyer does not take pleasure in meager offerings."

"Rest assured, my heart breaks to see her go-" Andrealphus had said with a long-suffering moan, wrapping an arm around Cori's shoulders, even as she wriggled to break free. "-and I will mourn her passing every day for as long as I live."

A very scripted, very insincere answer. The imp must have sensed it...but didn't question it. "Right. Down she goes."

Andrealphus had brought two large hellhounds for security...and a sack. Coronis fought to break free as hard as she could, but she was being wrangled in with the ease of manhandling a baby chick. The Marquis gave her a last long look.

"I will miss you, you know." He said. Trying for once, to actually sound as if he meant it. "There will never be a soul as easy and soft as you."

Don't! Don't! Coronis begged with all her might, trying to plead with her eyes. Please, please, I don't want to die!!

But as she was dropped into the minecart, everything went very dark. There was a moment's stillness, and then a jolt as the cart went sailing, the sound of the wind whipping past and a heavy dip-

And Coronis entered Wrath's underworld.

______

C'mon, c'mon! Get these stupid things offa me!

The cart whistled down the track at speeds Coronis could only imagine. But within the sack she was trapped it, she pushed her arms around her back legs as far as they would reach until they were capable of being severed by her talons...as fast as she could anyway. It was slow work, and each second felt like it was passing at breakneck speeds.

I-I have to get out! I'll be killed if I don't get out! What would happen should she escape the sack, much less the cart, she had no idea. Run away and join a rodeo? Become an itinerant wanderer in the desert? Turn into a cave dweller?! That could all wait until the ropes-

Snap.

To her great relief, her hands were freed. She tugged and tore at the ropes binding her feet, then clawed at the tape that kept her beak shut, shredding it off. "I gotta get outta here!"

CLANG!

The cart stopped so short that the sack...and all it's contents, rolled out. Coronis yelped in surprise and pain, bruised by the rough landing. She frantically felt for the opening, pulling it open as fast as she could-

Only to wish she had stayed in the sack.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5943

Jalsa, Mumbai May 26, 2024 Sun 11:18 PM

🪔 ,

May 27 .. birthday greetings to Ef Bhanu Kumar Bilala .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

एक और संडे निकल गया , आशाएँ जो मन को डराती थीं दूर हो गयीं , प्यार आदर समर्पण मेरा सदा आप सब के प्रति । इससे बड़ी उपलब्धि मेरे लिये नहीं ।

🙏

... and here on this lit desk of mine , with thoughts that contemplate what needs to be expressed here and in what dimension and contextual content .. I sit .. at times a gaze on the clock, at times on the reflection on the day passed .. and at times just listening to a creative .. and the immediate visualisation of a cinematic representation, if at all it were to see the light of day ..

Happens so often .. an immediate putting of yourself in a situation which you have devised and associated with the sounds of the tone trunk and tenor of the music ..

There is dislike towards the idea of putting the self in the creativity of an event, a product, a campaign .. as has been expressed often enough here and several other states - the barricaded wall towards the I ME MINE syndrome ..

Many that make such consider it a moment of great sale value ..

Could be for them .. do it if you want to ..

But doing it with me , for me , from me ,does not .. repeat, DOES NOT have compliance ..

Never catered to it and never subscribed to it either .. you or any other brings joy to you .. do it without my participation .. that is a independent right .. you have an opinion, a criticism, laudatory or otherwise , a documented record not contributed by me - fine ..

But my participation in the exercise is uncomfortable for me ..

"Abhorrence towards self-aggrandizement stems from the distaste for excessive self-promotion and narcissism. Society values humility and teamwork, viewing self-aggrandizing behavior as a sign of insecurity and a lack of genuine accomplishment. This disdain is rooted in the belief that true success and worth are recognized through actions and contributions rather than boastful proclamations. Individuals who excessively promote themselves often alienate others, undermining trust and collaboration. The collective preference for modesty and authenticity over self-serving arrogance fosters a more cohesive and respectful community, where achievements are celebrated for their intrinsic value rather than the loudness of their declaration."

... and I glance through the pages of one that has corresponded with Babuji and has , with the collection of his letters, brought out a book ..

one such letter, Babuji's content text says :

.. he that writes a complicated mind set, does not give a suitable proof of the purity of the writing .. 'why' did Tulsidas write the Ramayan, 'how' did he write it , could be the subject of dissertation among some of the learned intellectual beings .. most of the people just know that Tulsidas wrote the Ramayan .. when there is no deeper thought on 'what' .. then to beat the drum on the 'why' and the 'how' does not clarify or contribute to any meaning ..

It is a response to a letter by someone that has been brought to his notice, and asked him why he does not refute these insincere and absolutely wrong impressions that people have expressed towards his works - in particular 'Madhushala', - which the letter writer complains, is a propagation and a promotion for alcoholism !

मेरे पास सीमित-शक्ति है । मूर्खताओं को उत्तर दूँ या किसी रचनात्मक कार्य में लगाऊँ

I have limited time and strengths .. do I spend my time replying and responding to foolish idiots, or putting my efforts in use towards more creative cognitive work ..

And here endeth the lesson for the day ..

The IPL Final is over and KKR have WON a most convincing victory .. SRH were simply outplayed .. disappointing in many ways becuse SRH is a good team and one has seen their very grand performances over the days when they played other matches ..

But what was most touching to observe was the pretty young lady , .. the owner of SRH, in the Stadium, get emotional after the loss and break into tears, turning her face away from the cameras, so as not to display her emotion .. I felt bad for her !!

Never mind .. tomorrow is another day .. my dear !!

Indeed .. to quote that famous line from the film 'Gone with the Wind' when the character of Rhett Butler, played by the great Clark Gable turns away from his lady love Scarlett O' Hara, played by the inimitable Vivien Leigh, in the climax and leaves saying :

" Frankly .. I couldn't give a damn ..!!

and she responds as he walks away :

'.. i'll get him back .. after all tomorrow is another day .. '

YES yes , yes ..

to all that fail .. do not give up .. for ..

'tomorrow is another day ...

My love .. ❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

[heich0e]

tags: p.2 to THIS DRABBLE but can be read alone i think, yakuza!suna/escort!reader series masterlist

It took you a long time to learn how to walk in heels.

It didn't come to you naturally like it does for some, the movement instinctively fluid and swanlike and effortlessly simple. You had to practice at it, starting with shorter heels and smaller steps and a slower pace, before eventually working your way up to any degree of grace.

The process wasn't without its failings, to be sure. Not without stumbling or blisters or icepacks that you had to press to your aching feet at the end of a long day. But you got the hang of it eventually, it just took a bit of time.

It feels like a lifetime ago now as your steps click across the marble floor of the lobby with an easy, steady gait. You listen to the rhythmic noise each meeting of your heels make against the tile and remember the girl you were all those years ago, in much shorter heels, with a whole lot less life under her belt.

She'd never be able to walk in these shoes.

Especially not in this place.

The day had started out like any other, showing up to the club in the evening and getting yourself ready in the little room you'd been assigned to for the day. It was neither particularly luxurious nor notably shabby, the same as the rest of the suites that line the hallway at the back of the members only club at which you're employed—each close to any average hotel room, though perhaps a little more sterile. First you showered in the adjoining washroom, and then you changed into the outfit you'd brought with you for that evening. You were just in the process of styling your hair when a knock at the door interrupted you.

Your eyes flashed to the clock hanging on the wall, a little startled—you still had almost 25 minutes to the start of your scheduled shift, so no one ought to be calling on you so soon.

"Come in," you'd called out, though your voice sounded a bit confused.

Your manager's face appeared around the edge of the door once it creaked open, and your confusion only grew.

Kaito has never been someone you like. He isn't far from your age, from what you can tell, but he's a man who errs perpetually on the wrong side of sleazy—what with his over-gelled hair, his tastelessly flashy suits, and his sharp, insincere smile that always has the infallible effect of setting your own teeth on edge.

That day was no different.

"You're out today," Kaito said as you dipped your body in his direction in greeting. You froze, still hunched in your shallow bow.

"What?" you asked him as your head popped up in shock, your tone cold.

You'd checked your schedule at least three times that day. You were sure you'd been on the schedule to start at 7, and the guy manning the front desk had given you the key to this suite when you checked in, so clearly when you'd arrived half an hour prior he'd seen your name there too.

"Change of plans. You were requested." Kaito shot you a particularly implicative look you didn't like, and you cared for the way his gaze slipped down to the dip of your neckline even less. "You've been so popular lately."

"Who called for me?" You questioned him, clearing your throat pointedly as Kaito's canine caught his lower lip in a subtle bite. His eyes flickered up to meet yours after another moment of appreciating your tits.

"Who do you think?" he asked you as his brows lifted tauntingly.

Heat flared in your face at his words, and at the sudden prospects they implied.

"A driver will pick you up in half an hour," Kaito added dismissively before stepping back towards the door to leave.

"Why can't Toma take me to the hotel?" you asked, referring to the club's driver who usually took you to your calls out.

(You're fond of Toma—a quiet man in middle age who always treats you kindly. Just knowing that he'll be there waiting to pick you up at a scheduled time always feels like a quiet reassurance on nights like these.)

"They've been nice enough to send one of their own tonight, and you're not going to the hotel," Kaito paused to explain.

Not going to the hotel?

"Inarizaki has been incredibly good to us, you know." Kaito's voice suddenly lost the affectation of charm that he usually laid on thick. The mere mention of the name was enough to make goosebumps raise along your skin. Still hesitating in the doorway, Kaito glanced over at you—and for a moment you wondered if the look you were seeing behind his eyes was insistence or worry. "Just... be sure to return the favour, yeah?"

You're not sure where you were dropped off by the driver.

It's not that you find yourself in some remote place on the edge of town—you're in the heart of the city's centre, on a street you've travelled a hundred times—the high rise just isn't one that you've ever frequented before. As you step across the threshold, you can't help but think the sumptuous interiors remind you more of a luxury hotel than a complex of condominiums like the sign says outside.

There had been a note waiting for you in the back of the sleek black car that had picked you up at the club, though all that had been written on the piece of paper was an apartment number and a code—which you could only assume was for a door. It's tucked away in your pocket now, out of sight, and you've committed the code to memory.

As your heels click against the marble while you cross the glistering lobby towards the elevators—the tap, tap, tap counting out your pace metronomically—something squirms in the pit of your stomach.

Up on one of the highest floors of the towering building, your fingers shake slightly as you type in the code to the keypad outside the specified door. You pause and fight to steady them after you begin to press the six digits into their corresponding keys—no one likes a girl who's trembling, after all—and after a few breaths you manage to get it right: the light on the upper right hand corner of the automated lock blinks green three times, and you're able to turn the knob of the door.

It's quiet when you step inside, which surprises you.

You half expected to be walking into a party, or an orgy, or the former that would eventually lead to the latter. But instead, you're met with a perfectly still, and pristinely tidy, living space.

You hesitate for a moment as the front door swings closed behind you, processing the shock, and then you bend down to slip your shoes off of your feet. If he wants you to put them back on later, you'll do so without complaint—but for now you don't want to make any presumptions. Next you shuck your thin coat, folding it over your arm, and you tiptoe across the threshold of the genkan—creeping further into the home as quietly as you can.

Your pulse is thrumming under your skin unpleasantly, the unfamiliarity of the place setting you on edge.

"Hello?" you call out weakly in the condo, but you receive no answer back.

You're alone.

Or you seem to be, at least.

You pause in the middle of the expansive living space, next to a long L-shaped sofa in the centre of the room with a square table in front of it. Along one side of the high ceilinged home is a kitchen so sparkling you can't help but think it's never been used. There's a broad dining table with eight chairs poised before a wall of windows not far from you too, with a remarkable view of the city just beyond the glass. Along the opposite side of the space to the kitchen is a set of stairs that passes more windows, leading to a second level that you can't see much of from your place on the first floor, but can only assume is where the bedrooms are found.

The place is gorgeous, you make no effort to deny it. You just don't know where the hell you are.

You rest your hand on the back of the sofa as you stand beside it, and the leather is buttery-soft under your touch. You run your fingers along it to appreciate it for a moment.

"Oh, you're here."

Your eyes snap up to the top of the stairs, in the direction of where you hear the words originate.

Suna stands at the landing of the second floor with a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips and a towel around his neck. His hair is wet, seemingly fresh from the shower if the droplets of water clinging to his tattooed neck and chest are anything to go by, and he's got one hand ruffling through it with the edge of his white towel. He peers down at you, his usual secretive little smile on his face.

"Hello, Suna-san," you greet him with a polite little bow.

"I wasn't expecting you here so soon," he remarks, letting his towel drop to rest around his neck again and shuffling towards the staircase's railing. He leans over it, peering down at you. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I only just arrived. Thank you for sending a driver for me," you say quietly, averting your eyes down towards the coat still looped over your arm. You bite the inside of your cheek as you gather up the nerve to say more. "There's really no need for you to go out of your way like that. I'm more than happy to be escorted by the club's—"

Suna clicks his tongue, interrupting you before you can finish your thought. You don't even have time to be frustrated, because his reply is so perplexing. "No can do, unfortunately. This place has to stay just between the two of us."

Your gaze snaps up to him again in surprise, and you catch the way the corner of his mouth curls up more noticeably. Even from the opposite side of the grand room you see the flash of mischief behind his eyes, warm and mirthful. He lets his long arms dangle over the railing, leaning his body further out across it.

"I wouldn't want just anyone knowing where I live, after all."

Your heartbeat is still racing in your throat, but it feels less threatening now—a hum of anticipation singing underneath your skin. You swallow over the knot of your pulse.

"You live here?" you ask him, your voice sounding a little higher than you intend it to—the surprise you feel evident in the tone even in spite of your efforts to conceal it.

He hums, pushing himself back from the railing and descending the staircase at a lazy pace. Once he reaches the last step, and eventually the main floor, that hammering of your pulse kicks up in intensity again.

"What do you think?" he asks, looking around at the home—his home—around you.

You glance around, though you barely register anything you're looking at, too overwhelmed to take anything in. You clear your throat a little before replying, "It's very nice."

Suna tilts his head to the side, a look of quiet confusion on his face as he considers you. He approaches you slowly, his eyes fixed firmly on you all the while.

"You're nervous," he remarks.

He reaches up, his fingertips brushing against the skin of your shoulder—not dissimilarly to the way you'd been appreciating the smooth leather of his sofa a few moments prior. You shiver at the gentle touch.

"I'm not nervous," you say, a lie if you've ever told one. But you shouldn't be nervous. You've been doing this job for too long to get so rattled over a simple change of scenery.

But the change of scenery isn't simple. Nothing about Suna Rintarou is, after all.

It's not lost on you just who the man you stand before is. Just what he does that affords him such a beautiful home. Why it's imperative that the address be kept secret.

Suna Rintarou is a dangerous man, even as he stands at your side running his fingertips along the ridge of your clavicle with the ends of his hair still dripping wet from the shower and hanging in his deceptively sweet eyes.

But it's not his profession that you fear might bring you harm, it's the little smile that shows his teeth which spreads across his face when he catches how you shiver under his touch, and the way it makes your heart knock against your ribs when you see it that scares you more than anything.

"Okay, you're not nervous," he says quietly, but there's a knowing, placating lilt in his low voice. He reaches up and takes your coat from your arms, laying it over the back of the sofa. Next, he catches your wrists in his large hands, his touch slipping slowly along your arms until he uses his hands to guide them up around his neck. You let him move you how he wants to—obliging, just as you were trained to be—and in one easy movement he wraps an arm behind you and hitches you up to his waist.

You cling to him tightly, your lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from his own. The hem of your dress has crept up in the movement, now rucked up around your hips like a belt. You can feel the heat of Suna's skin radiating through the thin lace of your panties where your core is pressed against the firm plane of his lower abdomen, and it makes your breath hitch in your throat when the sensation registers.

Suna groans a little at the soft sound you let out, pulling you even more firmly against him as his mouth descends upon your throat. The hand he's not using to support your weight cradles the crown of your head, tipping it back slightly so your neck is bared to him more openly. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses right over the place when your pulse is beating most violently.

"I planned to give you a tour," he murmurs into your skin, and your fingers tangle in his hair as you feel the brush of his teeth against the sensitive little spot where your throat slopes down into your shoulder. He pulls away, staring up at you with eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "I think it's gonna have to wait."

Suna carries you over to the massive dining room table on the other side of the room, but keeps his mouth pressed to yours all the while, his tongue sliding noisily against your own. Your head is spinning so terribly as you try to match his pace that you hardly even realize what's happening before he lays you down flat against the cool marble tabletop, and you hiss as the stone meets your heat-flooded skin.

Suna pulls away and stares down at you from above, your legs still wrapped around his waist. The weight of his gaze is overwhelming, and you turn your face away as you fight to catch the breath that evades you. The cityscape lit beyond the glass makes you pause for a moment, even prettier from up close than it was on the other side of the room. Suna's hands slip up your thighs, inching towards the delicate waistband of your underwear.

"This view is nice," you comment breathily, and in the faint reflection that you can make out in the window's pane you see Suna glance in its direction only briefly.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, before taking your chin in his hand and tipping your face back up in his direction to kiss you again. You whimper against his lips as you feel his fingertips dip beneath the lace between your legs, and he pulls away from your mouth only far enough so he can mutter a final, rasping "I've seen better."

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(FE: Engage) Alear / Konosuba Emblem Ring

No one requested this, I have the INSATIABLE URGE to write crossovers no matter what, apparently. Doubly so with the idiots that began my love for crossovers, both Fire Emblem/Konosuba.

Awakening:

Alear stared at the rather shoddy looking ring in her palm, eyebrow raised as Marth and Vander at her side did the same.

The ring was horribly rusted, alongside just looking cheap, as if it were made of copper unlike every other ring which at least looked decent.

(Vander) "Divine One, please absolve me of my negligence but...are you sure that is the correct incantation?"

(Alear) "Truth be told, it sounds like someone just made it up on the spot. Name included. Marth?"

Marth floated over her shoulder and only shook his head.

(Marth) "I suppose there's no harm in trying?"

Alear sighed before clenching her fist and raising it into the sky.

(Alear)

"WAKE UP YOU MORONS!"

Instead of a brilliant light, the ring violently popped out four figures that all landed on top of each other, scaring the three.

(Kazuma) "GOD, MY FRIGGIN BACK!"

The brown haired boy shoved three girls off him, all while swearing under his breath as he dusted himself off.

Not that he needed to, considering they were just manifestations and not physical bodies.

(Kazuma) "What in the-Why the hell are we all glowy and crap?!"

The other girls quickly looked down to examine themselves, completely ignoring Alear.

(Darkness) "I-I can't feel anything! THIS IS A TERRIBLE EXISTENCE!"

(Megumin) "Can we still attack? C-C-CAN I STILL CAST MY EXPLOSIONS!?"

(Kazuma) "What did you do to us, Aqua?!"

(Aqua) "ME?! I didn't do anything! It was that stupid ring that you bought from Wiz! I KNEW that we should've just sold it off!-"

(Vander) AHEM!

The four quickly leapt back in terror as Vander made their presence known.

(Vander) "Compose yourselves! You stand in front of the Divine Dragon-"

(Kazuma) "Can it, grandpa! Our business is none of yours!"

(Vander) "Grandpa?!-"

(Alear) "L-Let's just all take a second to breathe and-"

(Kazuma) "And that goes to you too, toothpaste hair!"

(Alear) "...What's toothpaste-?"

Kazuma jammed a finger into Aqua's shoulder angrily, his expression bordering on snapping into full blown rage.

(Kazuma) "AND AS FOR YOU, YA STUPID BLUE GODDESS! THE RING WAS PERFECTLY FINE UNTIL YOU DECIDED TO TRY YANKING IT FROM MY HAND! Now we're stuck as some goddamn ghosts!"

(Aqua) "IT'S NOT MY FAULT! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WAS GOING TO TURN US INTO THIS!?-"

As the two continued to yell, Megumin and Darkness's glances turned towards the newcomers.

(Megumin) "Well, I'm Megumin! Nice to meet you."

(Darkness) "Please, call me Darkness. Those two over there are Kazuma and Aqua."

(Marth) "Well...I suppose I've seen stranger folks become heroes in my world?"

(Alear) "I supposed it'd be insincere to say if we didn't have a few strange folk in the Somniel too..."

(Vander) "I know we require all the assistance we can get but...I fail to see how this ring could help us."

(Alear) "

===

Supports:

===

Alear

(Kazuma) "Let me get this straight. You're supposedly like a god, but you have no idea what you're doing? Psh, why does that sound familiar?"

(Alear) "I take it your gods haven't been so kind...?"

(Kazuma) "They've been absolute idiots, that's for sure."

...

(Alear) "Kazuma, why exactly do I get people's underwear whenever I fight alongside you-?"

(Kazuma) "H-HEY! For the record, I'm trying to steal their damn weapons this time!"

(Alear) "T-This time?! Does that mean you just do that regularly?!"

...

(Aqua) "Hm...For a god, your choice of clothing is super weird."

(Alear) "I uh...could say the same for your choice of undergarments..."

(Aqua) "Hm? But having them be invisible is smart, since no one can see it!"

(Alear) "..."

...

(Alear) "C-Can I ask you something, Darkness? Whenever I get hit when you are with me, I can't help but feel that...you're happy?"

(Darkness) "OH YES, I AM VERY HAPPY! I can take whatever hit the enemies throw at us, please just let me go first!"

(Alear) "I...believe I hear someone calling for me, if you'll excuse me!"

...

(Alear) "Out of curiousity, why do you only cast explosions? Surely there are other fields of magic that you can be profi-"

(Megumin) "NOPE! Only explosions, end of discussion! Why don't you cast explosion sometime? It's a great way to clear enemies off the field!"

(Alear) "I'd prefer not to have my friends torched too..."

...

Anna

(Anna) "Hey there, sir! Interested in buying something?-"

(Kazuma) "Wha-aren't you a little too young to be swindling?!"

(Anna) "Hmph! Aren't you a little too old to be wandering around in kiddie rags like that weird suit?!"

Jade

(Jade) "Excuse me, Aqua? If I may ask, could I use you as a basis to write the main character in my upcoming short novel?"

(Aqua) "Ah! Someone finally recognizes my beautiful goddess radiance! As long as you pay me my royalties, I will not mind!"

(Jade) "Fair enough. Now, please tell me your daily life. This character fails miserably at everything they do, and I need to understand the mindset properly..."

Jean

(Jean) "I don't understand?! How does your body keep falling over everytime you cast one spell?!"

(Megumin) "Hah...m-my explosions are the coolest, and require ALL the energy I got..."

(Jean) "It will not be cool if you get stabbed to death after falling over from one spell! Please, try not to cast it too much!"

Vander

(Vander) "You four are considered to be heroes in your world? I am finding it hard to believe after witnessing you in action..."

(Kazuma) "Piss off, old man! We fought plenty of things you wouldn't believe! Give us the respect we deserve!"

(Vander) "You have lost any I could have given the moment you stole the enemy's underwear in active combat..."

Marth

(Kazuma) "Cram the friendship speeches up your ass, I don't wanna hear em!"

(Marth) "Wha-I was just going to say hello!"

(Kazuma) "Listen, I know your type when I see 'em, okay?! Buzz off!"

Tiki

(Tiki) "Hmph, you're a real jerk! And you call yourself a goddess?!"

(Aqua) "What's that? I'm sorry, I can't hear you from down there, pipsqueak!"

(Tiki) "...I'm going to do violence to you."

===

Victory Quotes:

"HAH! Suck it!"

"No match for a goddess!"

"Fall to the Crimson Demon!"

"HURT ME MORE!...Wait, what?"

[brabblesblog]

Safety

Part 6 of the Goodnight Moon series

The confession has its repercussions.

More angst (happy ending at the end of the series) and more slow, slow burn.

Read on AO3.

Part 5

Part 7

Masterlist.

Astarion hears the words, but it doesn't really register. What? He blinks, taking a moment for it to sink in. He had heard those same words before, countless times from countless lips - lips soon to be screaming and crying as Cazador took them away. He instinctively flinches away from your grasp, taking a sharp breath. This isn't the same situation, he tries to remind himself, but is it not?

Did he not manipulate his way into your bed? Into your heart? Did he not do this to send you Cazador's way? To kill him this time, sure, but what difference did that make?

And shouldn't he be happy? Your devotion to him was clearly written on your face. You died for him. Surely you would go to the ends of the earth to rid him of Cazador. But all he feels is a mix of relief and a twisted pain in his chest where his heart was. Relief that you had finally come back to him, yes, but that pain - he refused to look too deeply into it.

He looks to your soft, sad eyes and slipped his mask back on. It takes seconds to do, seconds you would have normally seen but not right now in your current condition.

"That's even worse, darling," he hisses, trying to bring as much venom into his words. "Love is for the foolish, the unlucky, the damned. I-," he almost falters, but presses on, "I don't do love. Let's just keep this fun, alright?"

You look away. Of course. That explained those faraway eyes whenever you were together. You try not to cry, but it was hard. Not expecting anything in return was one thing, but having your feelings dismissed so nonchalantly was another. You nod curtly and lay back down, stretching your neck out. If this was the case, you can only really think of one reason he'd be here.

"I understand," you say, in a small whisper, eyes brimming with tears. He can see it, can almost taste your pain, but he cannot - will not - do anything about it. "Just feed, please, and then you can go. I need to rest."

He stares at you in confusion. "Why would I - you're -"

He stops himself, realizing why. Instead he shakes his head. "You don't really have much blood left inside you, so I shall abstain today. I just came by on the way to hunt to make sure my little snack was going to be alright. And it seems like you are." He pats your hand twice, awkwardly. "I shall go, then. Good night," he says a little too cheerily, turning to leave.

If he hears the soft muffled sounds of your sobbing as he does, he ignores it.

As the days pass you slowly recover, thanks to Shadowheart and Halsin's help. You have been staying with the druid more often of late, as he helped you walk and would carry you when your body finally gave up walking. Astarion seemed to be acting like nothing had happened between you that night. He was back to his usual flirty, sassy self, and you were all too happy to just let that happen. There were too many problems for you and everyone at camp, and you were all too happy to just push this one to the side for now.

You still asked him to come feed on you at night, and without fail he would show up. Your little conversations in your tent remained the same. The only thing that changed was that whenever he would reach out - to touch your hand, or to cup your cheek - you would flinch slightly, but let him do it anyway. It meant nothing to him, you knew, but you couldn't really resist these small morsels of affection he gave no matter how insincere it was.

As the group traveled the underdark and the shadow cursed lands, Astarion begins spending more time at your tent after he had fed. There was nothing to hunt here, the lands barren and desolate. Inevitably it brought you two closer, but you knew not to let hope into your heart.

"Tomorrow we have to look for last night inn," you say, yawning. He had fed a lot today, as the fights had taken a lot of his energy. He nods and takes your hand, lazily tracing your knuckles. "Mm. I shall scout ahead. Which direction was it again?"

You frown. "Why do you like being in front? You don't trust me to have your back anymore? We used to fight back to back and- ugh. Never mind." You worry you pushed too far, asked too many things and upset the delicate situation you two had.

He tilts his head to meet your eyes. His were oddly round and shiny, as though he was about to cry.

"To keep you safe," he says in such a small voice that it's almost inaudible. You notice that his hand gripped yours tightly now, terrified of letting go.

"I can keep myself safe, Astarion. If anything, I keep you safe," you say, joking a little bit. He does not find it the least amusing. His eyes narrow and he almost hisses. "No," he says, his voice low and rough. "You are incapable of that, darling. You did it once, and it killed you. No more."

You take a deep breath, trying not to react in a way that would push him away. "Thank you for your concern. I am well though. I have been training with Halsin as well. I have seen my errors and am improving in combat. You can ask him."

His grip in your hand is almost painful now. He wants to scream, to tell you how much fear he felt when you died, how he could never live through that again. He bites his lip hard, enough to draw blood.

"Be as it may, me leading in the front has been beneficial to the group," he says quickly. It was true, to a point. He knew though that he had to leave. Any more of this conversation, and he was afraid he'd open his mouth and his heart would come spilling out onto your hands.

"Thank you, yet again, for the blood," he says as he slaps on a well-practiced smirk. "I shall see your delicious self tomorrow."

You nod, closing your eyes and settling in for the night.

He gives you once last glance, and is unable to completely stop himself. He leans over you and you feel soft lips press against yours. You feel a soft gust of wind as the tent flap is opened and when you open your eyes, he is gone.

[green-eyedfirework]

“You’re not Ra’s al Ghul,” the figure noted.

“I know.”

“How about,” his throat was dry and his words raspy, “I promise not to scream if you toss me the keys.”

~#~

“Why didn’t you try and kill the bastard, instead of getting your fool head cracked open on the stones?”

Dick turns to shoot the assassin a quicksilver, insincere smile.  “How'd you think I got chained to the bed?”

~#~

“You know,” Dick said, exhaustion tugging at him, “There’s nothing stopping me from warning Ra’s the moment he walks through the door.”

“I could kill you as soon as I heard footsteps,” the assassin remarks, unconcerned, “Snap that pretty little neck.  By the time he can tell the difference, he’ll be too close to escape.”

Fuck.

“Or, you can promise to keep that mouth shut, and I’ll unlock you when I’m done.”  Dick shifts to stare at the assassin.  “Don’t tell me you have any love lost for Ra’s al Ghul.”

~#~

“The Light sends their regards,” the assassin says quietly, and Dick goes very, very still.

“Everything alright?” the assassin asks as he does what he promised and unchains Dick.  Dick warily sidles off the bed, away from the dead body.  “You seem a little tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” the assassin looks up at him, pinning him in place with that one mercilessly blue eye, “Prince Richard?”

~#~

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Slade shrugs, “I’m a hunter, little bird.  I enjoy the thrill of the chase, stalking my prey as they stumble and falter and finally collapse, mired in the despair of their inevitable capture.”

That smile looks almost wolf-like.

~#~

The weight of hips flush with his own is what makes him freeze, heart rate spiking, his mouth going dry as he braces himself for pain, as panic and dread swirl together in his stomach, no please no having long since gone soundless, there was no point begging if it was never heeded—

The weight disappears.

“I’m not going to rape you, kid.”

It takes Dick a long, fumbling moment to brace his hands against the ground and push himself up.  Slade is back on the other side of the fire, sharpening his knife and glancing idly at Dick.

“And—” his voice sounds like he gargled seawater, “And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”

“I haven’t lied to you so far.”

“You said you’d let me go.”

“No, I said I’d unlock your chains, and I did.  I said I’d kill Ra’s al Ghul, and I did.  I said I’d catch you if you ran, and I did.”

~#~

“So how did the Crown Prince of Gotham end up a prisoner of Ra’s al Ghul?”

“Talia al Ghul,” Dick says quietly, “She broke from her father and fled to Gotham and my father married her.  And Ra’s decided that if Bruce stole his daughter and heir, he would do the same.”  Dick remembers that first spike of panic, past fear, past snarling rage, when Ra’s forced him down and fingers fumbled at his belt.  “And if Bruce took his daughter to bed, then he’d do the same to me.”

“I highly doubt that Lady Wayne is locked up in a tower and chained to a bed.”

“Lady Wayne didn’t try to kill Bruce at least three times.”  Dick pauses, and considers what he knows of his stepmother.  “Probably.”

~#~

Dick stares up at the furious assassin looming over him, and knows that this isn’t a fight he can win.  He’s still breathing through the injuries he got from the gang, and all he can do is curl up and try to survive Slade’s rage.

The cocoon of blankness is waiting like an old friend, and Dick sinks gratefully into it, withdrawing from his body, from the existing pains and what will soon be done to it, and hoping that he still has one to come back to.  For now, he drifts in the fog, untethered and alone.

There are fingers on his jaw, moving his head, a narrowed blue eye filling his vision.  “This a trick you learned with Ra’s?” the voice asks.

“What?” Dick says.  Slurs.  It’s all the same.

“Going away.”

Dick hums an affirmative.  He wouldn’t have survived Ra’s if he couldn’t...disconnect when he had to.  Ra’s didn’t care.