#(even more fucked up when you add the fact he was made into a character in that fic and iirc directly involved in that scene)

[sharonccrter]

Do you think there’s still a way they can fully redeem Lestat’s character for those viewers that don’t get past 1x05? I’ve never read the books so it kinda annoyed me that they would add a scene like this and potentially ruin the future of the character without it even being canon. I felt there was a chance they could have retconned it as a memory manipulation or something (I was fully expecting the memory to be a mesh of what Armand did to Lestat in the books (presumably??)) but that’s not gonna happen now.

Tbh it doesn’t bother me personally, I loved the apology scene and that it was clearly shown as something inexcusable and Lestat himself acknowledges it, but im not sure if it’s enough.

Another thing that I think the writers were trying to portray but some people aren’t really seeing is that Louis is a bit of a hypocrite. He attacks Lestat pretty brutally for putting hands on Claudia, but he himself does it later in the show. And then he excuses Armand for threatening Claudia and also doing the exact same thing?? But a lot of the audience won’t see those things as wrong because of how graphic and horrible that drop scene was in comparison (Which it totally was, it’s just that the writers don’t seem to see that they’re not comparable?).

On the other hand, I like Lestat being a complex character. There’s a lot they can do in s3 with his back story (I. e. Cycles of abuse with his father and maker that they hinted at). But I feel like there’s a big portion of the audience that won’t be accepting of it.

Basically I feel like the writers are a bit out of touch with their audience and how they’re writing is perceived, which is worrisome going forward😬

Sigh. This turned into a a word vomit and I apologize lmao but I was curious on your take

Eh, some people will never get over it, and that's their loss; in my opinion, they haven't ruined anything about Lestat's character. Yes, the scene was not in the book, but I understand why they did it, even if I'm not in love with the idea. It was for shock value but also to give Lestat more of an 'arc'.

I think it comes down to the fact that none of the characters are good people, Lestat has always been a deeply morally grey character who's done fucked up things, but he's such a compelling and exciting character that Anne Rice literally made him the main character and wrote 14 books from his POV.

She never claimed he was a good person, but he is a good character to write and read about. And yes, while I don't excuse Lestat's actions towards Louis. I do agree it's hypocritical for fans to say, "Louis was justified to act violently to Lestat because he laid hands on Claudia," when Louis has also laid hands on Claudia himself. Not to mention, Louis sat back and let Armand treat Claudia badly, and when she called him out, he had the audacity to say, "That doesn't sound like him."

Louis has always centred himself as the victim of the story. He even admits in episode 2x07 that he made himself more passive in the telling of how Claudia was made. Because he wasn't ready to face the bad shit he's done, and that's Louis's whole freaking character. I have to be honest here, Anon. I hated Louis in book 1; I do love him in the show because Jacob Anderson has done a fantastic job, but sometimes I just meh about the character.

If Lestat has a lot to atone for, and he does, he's not a good person, then Louis has a lot to atone for, too. I mean, hell, I even love Armand, the messy bitch that he is, because they're all bad people; that's literally point. And Yes, some people may not be able to get past 1x05, and hey, I do think there is still more to the story since Sam and the writers hinted at it being revisited in S3; but that's their problem.

I don't think the writers are out of touch; I think media literacy is dead, and people just don't know how to have fucking fun anymore. They also clearly don't understand what gothic horror is. But honestly, anon, I'm reaching the point where I don't care. They can either get on board or get off the train.

Also never apologise for sending long anons, happy to chat as long as you like :)

[basslinegrave]

why do i keep finding out so many people working on fnaf or being involved are terrible people whats this...

[glassrowboat]

Morning After

Authors note: This includes a variety of my own headcanons on these characters. The reader is gender neutral. This includes only the male harbingers, but I am willing to write one for the chicks too ^^

Capitano.

-The instant you stirred in your sleep, just the slightest twitch, and you were pinned to the mattress with a looming figure above you. His black hair tickled your skin, swaying back and forth from the sudden movement, but that was barely a concern when this man who had been so sweet with you last night was suddenly acting like a switch that flipped off in his brain. All you could tell was one discernable thing after the sudden surprise: there was no escape if he didn't want there to be.

-”Capitano?” You called out, voice hesitant and barely a whisper as fear choked back the ability to speak confidently.

-Immediately the tense nature that had over taken his form fell, shoulders no longer strung together as that soldier who had been pinning you down held you close and started apologizing for startling you.

-He didn't have to say it, he didn't want to, bit for a moment there the Captain had mistaken you for someone that crept into his chambers with ill intent. He's a soldier. War is what he's known for. This caution just comes with the territory.

-To make up for his own actions he makes sure you're well fed, given a hearty breakfast (one a little too big for you to fully eat but he doesn't mind giving you some Tupperware to take it home in) and tea.

-It's just he's a terrible conversationalist, barely talking as he just nods along to whatever you say, making you carry the flow the entire morning as he adds in an occasion “yes, interesting, or no.”

-At least he's handsome under that helmet.

Childe.

-Fell off the bed the moment he saw you, a shout falling from his lips from the surprise of the fall and well, this naked person in his bed.

-Why he didn't expect you to wake up and throw a pillow at his head for being so darn loud when you have a hangover? Well, only Celestia knows. Though he didn't bother to block it, simply accepted getting hit as it didn't even knock him back.. well that is if he didn't play along and dramatically fell down onto the floor.

-”Are you always such a drama queen?”

-”A guy can't play along with a joke?”

-Very sweet, but a little bit annoying as he asks about you in as many questions he can think of. What's your favorite color? What's your job?

-Admittedly Childe has never had a one night stand before so he doesn't know what to do in this position so when you give him a sweet smile and tell him to just to let you get dressed for now he goes to get a stray shirt for you.

-Definitely wants to see you again, and not just in the bedroom.

-”So where do you come from?”

-”Give me five minutes for fucks sake.”

Dottore.

-First off, what? He's aware each harbinger has their own little dedicated fan club, even him…for some reason. Yet for him to willingly bring someone, possibly one of them, to his bed? People aren't allowed in his personal quarters. Hell, he barely uses it himself, opting to sleep on that one couch in the laboratory. So why the switch in his normal behavioral patterns?

-(I personally see Dottore as a virgin so for this dweeb to lose it this way-)

-Admittedly, he's on edge from trying to remember what happened, the haze of sleep, and the shock of seeing someone he apparently trusted enough to bring to bed. It only made sense he was scowling at this sleeping body. It wouldn't be easy enough to just call it a new test subject, use the sheets as restraints to drag this stranger down to his lab and shove them in a cell but..

-Maybe not this time.

-Instead he gets up and throws on some clothes as quickly as possible, making sure to slot his mask in place despite the fact you have very obviously already seen what lies underneath. That and more.

-It has proven more useful than not to use that thing to hide his expressions.

- Depending on if he drank last night and that's what had him indulging in the warmth of another person's body, Dottore would have one of his clones stand by until you wake up. They can deal with the situation from there and take you home while he gets some caffeine in his body. An easy way to rid of a hangover and forget his newfound company.

-If it was a completely sober decision, Dottore no longer has the excuse that he simply got ahead of himself from the drink and would therefore be hostile in response. Unable to put up with this one bit, he would be telling his bed partner to get dressed and head home already so he can get back to work instead of watching over pointless little you.

-Don't try and say anything about possibly being emotionally attached, it would only anger him. Boy is not used to being open or vulnerable with anyone and you suddenly appearing and having held him so close last night would only set him off in the worst of ways.

Pantalone.

-First thing this man notices is he's just not as comfy as usual, somehow this mattress isn't right, he isn't sinking into the soft plush he spent thousands on. Not even his haze of grogginess was enough to make tossing and turning twist his body into comfort. (Goldilocks having motherfucker). So with a steady hand he reaches out to find his glasses on the nightstand, silver chains rattling on the surface as he pulls them close.

-A one night stand isn't an uncommon thing to the regrator, for him it's happened a small handful of times before but it's never something he's typically the better for in the morning. A man of his position caught slinking into a woman's bedroom as they drunkenly grope at eachother was far from a good look. Not to mention you never knew if the individual would keep their mouth shut.

-That has been a problem with one particular individual in the past that has henceforth been ‘dealt with.’

-But the person laying besides him was still conked out and wrapped in a good majority of the blankets the bedding had to offer. Well, a bit of a thief aren't they? Pantalone almost wanted to laugh but kept his mouth sealed shut, already knowing it's best not to wake you.

-Slowly he got up and out of the bed, trying to keep it from creaking too loudy, to put on last night's clothes. He'll take a shower and get changed into something clean later.

-With one last peak towards the stranger he spent the night with Pantalone slipped out of the front door.

Pierro.

-He's confused.

-Now he understands what happened, the sight of you naked and curled up into him is more than enough to make that clear; though your underwear basically on his favorite pillow definitely would have gotten the point across either way. But, like, him? You who look so much younger, livelier compared to what Pierro sees in the mirror every day after five hundred years haunting him.

-Maybe that joke the second made about people liking ‘older folks’ was based on reality.

-Would greedily allow himself to hold you in his arms for a time. It started with him first saying one minute, that's all he'd allow himself. Then that turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Eventually he would barely wish to nudge you awake even though he knows better.

-Don't go getting attached when there's so much left to do.

-When he finally did wake you up he did his best to make sure you wouldn't get startled, softly calling out the name he was given last night. It's just a shame you do, startling as your hand nearly wacked his face from sheer shock. (Though who can blame you? It's not everyday you blearliy open your eyes, vision still blurry as you take in a man with white hair and stars in his- wait is that the fucking Pierro? Oh fuck).

-The type to help you find your clothes and call for a cab so he knows you get home safely.

-Now all that's left is trying to figure out how to hide the hickey you planted on him.

Scaramouche.

-Let's be real here, you're not making it to the morning.

-He had no clue why he was allowing this, allowing a humans lips to fall to his own with such fevered need. In any other situation he'd be pushing them off, telling this person they're a useless worm that shouldn't ever have walked these lands if all they was going to do was use their life to paw at him. Oh but to worshipped was a delight.

-Kisses pressed to the wooden skin of his puppet body like small prayers to the God he will one day be. This is what humans are made for, aren't they? To give their all to a greater being. So readily Scaramouche let himself be tugged along as you pulled him to wherever you pleased, ready to lavish in the attention he so rarely got.

-A human isn't a threat after all.

-Yet when you tugged on his short, pulling them down just low enough for your mouth to eagerly await something filling it, everything took a turn for the worst.

-”Wait a minute, you don't have genitals?”

-And in a heartbeat you were struck with a bolt of lightning that had you dead on the spot.

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[ineffable-endearments]

When you (generic, universal) talk about theories about the end of Season 2 and Aziraphale going to Heaven, you often run up against either:

taking everything at face value to the point of ignoring that some details contradict one another

or

accidentally nullifying major emotional, plot, and character beats by implying that they Didn't Really Happen.

A lot of the differences in analyses, especially ones that I like (LOL), can be explained by the fact that we're analyzing a character who is experiencing massive cognitive dissonance and believes a number of contradictory things at once.

Nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's need to Belong to a Good Cause, which makes his acceptance of the Supreme Archangel position entirely in-character; nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's anxiety around the Metatron, which indicates that he may have been coerced.

Did Aziraphale go back to Heaven because he's afraid of what will happen if he keeps refusing, or because the Metatron made an implicit threat? Did he go back to Heaven because he's vulnerable to flattery and wants to feel important? Did he go back to Heaven because he thought it would be a way to be permanently safe with Crowley? Or did he go back because he missed belonging to something Good, something bigger than himself? All of the above. It's all of them.

Yes, even though it's incredibly dissonant to believe a system that he KNOWS is dangerous and coercive can accomplish true Goodness, that is in fact his belief.

Admittedly, this is no one I follow - just random comments I see around from people I don't know very well - but it seems like some people out there are assuming Aziraphale can't possibly be making any plans to do anything remotely intelligent, because this would mean that he is already aware that Heaven is bad and would therefore leave no room for character growth.

Except no, that's not necessarily what it means. In fact, the cognitive dissonance is the main thing he is going to have to resolve. Having that dissonance - the belief that Heaven's ideals are genuine, along with the understanding that Heaven is dangerous and needs to be carefully manipulated - is what will move his plot forward. Mindless obedience wouldn't progress his story any more than magic brainwashing coffee would, and it would be equally inconsistent with his story and motivations so far.

The dissonance is the point. And part of the dissonance is that he already knows Heaven is dangerous - he just hasn't accepted what that means yet. It would make sense for him to simultaneously try to work within Heaven's system and watch his own back.

Also, only partly related: Neil might write a story about how the worst people exploit the need to belong and to be Good. He might write a story about how we have to become our own greater good. He might write a story about how to rebuild after you discover your greater good is not so great or good after all. He is not going to write a story about how having any faith or trust in something objectively bigger and stronger than yourself makes you a stupid clown who is wrong about literally everything and shouldn't have even tried.

Let Aziraphale fuck up. He needs to and he will. Whatever plans he was making in that elevator won't actually succeed. But give him credit where it's due.

Edited to add: And you know what? When he fucks up, he's going to get through it. And then he's going to do the right thing. And he's going to get it right when it matters the most.

[exculpateinteractivefiction]

"All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire." - Edgar Allan Poe

Exculpate: The Fall from Grace is an upcoming 18+ action packed and fantastical interactive fiction novel. Loosely inspired by media like “My Hero Academia”, “Bungou Stray Dogs”, “Jujutsu Kaisen”, “The X-Men” and “Titans”.

Tags: [Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Romance, Drama, LGBTQIA+, Textbased]

The Astra. In the years after the war it was a name that had grown familiar. A select group of individuals who had gained special abilities after the…incident. They are powerful. They are talented. They are gifted.

And you’re one of them.

Or at least you were around a decade ago. Before you made the mistake.  The type of colossal fuck up that blows up your apparently  flimsy life in a matter of minutes. The kind that has you running away and starting completely over. That kind.

Now instead of using your worthless ability to save people, you are stuck using it for much more…aggressive work. More effective work. Or at the very least work that pays better. The only cost seems to be your sorry excuse for morals. Trading your soul and sense of justice for a paycheck. What could go wrong?

It was manageable. Meaningful even. Something that gave purpose to the now shattered pieces of your life.

Everything was great.

...until you got a hit for the strongest hero in existence. Wonderful.

Play a former hero turned assassin turned…“hero” but not really .

Customize your character’s name, appearance, personality, and gender identity.

Develop a better understanding of your dreadful ability.

Explore and navigate complex relationships with six unique romantic options.

Kill your former best friend and betray old allies and new ones alike!

Come face to face with your past (both the choices you’ve made and the people in it).

Repent for your mistakes…or continue making them.

The Hero (Your Target): Maverick “Mav” Kingston (He/Him)

Maverick Kingston, your current target and the strongest member of Astra. The strongest, period. He is unstoppable - unreachable - unattainable. You would know as his (former) best friend.

Appearance: Maverick is the embodiment of “perfection” and that crosses over into his looks. He is roughly 6’1” and is quite lean. He has vibrant light blue eyes and a head of messy blonde hair that seems to always fall perfectly into place.

Personality: Maverick’s greatest flaw is undeniably his personality. To put it bluntly, he’s the best and he knows it. He manages to come across as nonchalant and egotistical on a good day - often just messing around or teasing both his enemies and coworkers alike, and while he can be quite charismatic, his laidback and annoying disposition tends to steer most people away. Although, you get the feeling that there seems to be something deeper lying beneath the surface even after all these years…

The Strategist: Carmen Reyes (She/Her)

Carmen Reyes, lead strategist of the Astra and to put it bluntly the only one with any common sense. She is an intimidating presence - although that might just be due to her title of the best hand to hand combatant of the Astra. You used to be co-workers and classmates but that was a long time ago.

Appearance: Carmen’s beauty is just another thing that adds to her imposing nature. She is roughly 5’11” and has spent years building up her muscular physique. She has curly dark brown hair that rests just below her chin and surprisingly sharp hazel eyes that seem to track your every move…

Personality: Carmen can be considered reserved and wise at best and completely distant at worst. She has a professional air to her that most officials and authority respect, but it can come across as aloof or boring especially when comparing her to the loud personalities that the rest of the Astra has. That’s not to say she is uncaring though - in fact she is arguably the most moral of the group - or at least she was back when you were a member…

The Heart: Silas Jones (He/Him)

Silas Jones, arguably the kindest member of the Astra. He’s excitable and naive - if not a bit endearing. He tends to act as the mediator between the public and the other members of the Astra when necessary. You don’t remember being particularly close with him back when you were in the Astra so it’s surprising how desperately he seems to want your attention now…

Appearance: Silas is roughly 5’8” and has dark brown skin with glowing silver marks scattered across his body. He has black locs that have been dyed red at the tips and dark brown eyes that seem to pull you in wherever you go…

Personality: Silas is easily the nicest of the group and can be quite soothing especially compared to the harsher personalities of the other members and higher ups of the Astra. He is incredibly open and energetic, if not a bit naive. He cares very deeply for the people around him and that clearly extends to you even after all these years. It does make you wonder why he is so interested though…

The Healer: Juno Aceso (She/Her)

Juno Aceso, head of the healing and medical department at Astra. She isn’t what most people expect when they hear the words “doctor” but she is a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the group. You were close with her back when you were in the Astra…or at least as close as you can be with someone like her.

Appearance: Juno is roughly 5’5”. She has deathly pale skin and dark eyebags that frame her murky green eyes. Her straight chestnut colored hair lands right at her chest, though she usually keeps it up in a bun.

Personality: If Carmen is distant and Maverick is nonchalant then Juno is on a whole other level. She is practically apathetic with her laidback nature and tends to be quite removed from everyone else. That’s not to say she has no personality though. She can be incredibly snarky and sarcastic when she wants to be. Unsurprisingly, she seems the least invested in your return. Although you get an odd feeling whenever she glances your way…

The Star: Payton Monroe (They/Them)

Payton Monroe is nothing if not a star. They embrace the celebrity status that comes with being a member of the Astra with open arms. You weren’t particularly close with them back when you were in the Astra but you heard the rumors of their exploits…

Appearance: Payton is roughly 5’7” and seems to make it their life’s goal to make themself as appealing as possible. They have ivory colored skin and dazzling lavender eyes. Their hair is shoulder length and white with streaks of pink going through it.

Personality: Payton is someone who has no issue embracing the finer things in life. They are far more interested in the public image aspect of being a member of the Astra and that comes across in nearly every interaction. While they are quite flirtatious, they seem to hold no interest in pursuing an actual relationship. Maybe you’ll be the one to change that…

The Newbie: Amari Gray (Gender Selectable)

Amari Gray, the newest member of the Astra. Not much is known about them - they joined after you left and they don’t seem exactly interested in getting to know you. They tend to be annoyed with you more often than not but you get the feeling that they are that way with most people. Although, their constant avoidance towards you specifically is quite odd…

Appearance: Amari is roughly 5’3”. They have tan skin and sharp gray eyes that seem to be set in a perpetual glare. They have thick white hair that is currently styled as a short undercut. They have a few piercings and tattoos.

Personality: You don’t know much about Amari but one thing you do know is that they don’t like you. They are either actively avoiding you or are going out of their way to pick fights with you. They seem incredibly familiar which makes their determination on making your life miserable even weirder…

DEMO TBA

[izvmimi]

cw: angst. character death. you and izuku are married and have a young son. godparent!katsuki. katsuki has an unnamed wife.

Your son always starts a fuss when you bring him to his grandmother’s house, but for some reason, as you slowly trudge up the steps to your mother-in-law’s modest home (she’d refused to let her son move her out into your large shared home or even a much larger, more roomy domicile of her own), you find that your son is eerily quiet, as though he can sense the turmoil inside of you and is choosing to give you a much needed break. 

By the time he makes it into Inko’s arms, he’s always less fussy, but today he’s quietly looking at you, curiously, as if he’s waiting for you to break down and cry. He’s unnerving that way, gifted with practically the same emotional intuition as your sweet husband, and it doesn’t help that he has practically the same face. Inko is quick to take your behaving not-yet-toddler from you, and gives you a sympathetic look. She is not going to the funeral yet because she plans to watch your son, but she’s spent practically every night this week at Mitsuki’s house, preparing food and helping her through her tears. You’ve helped your best friend, Katsuki’s wife, grieve similarly, but now that the final moment has come to lay him to rest, you feel dread rising in the pit of your stomach. 

You should not show your face. After all, you killed Katsuki Bakugou.

After you repeat this statement again out loud to your mother-in-law, shaky hands folded in your lap as she hands you a glass of water and tries to steady your nerves, she reminds you, as all good mothers would, that it wasn’t your fault.

He’d meant to save you. You hadn’t been the one to force an unclosable hole through his chest, and if it hadn’t been you standing and vulnerable in that particular spot, it would have been someone else he’d have aimed to save. 

Perhaps that last part is true. Or perhaps, because you are one of his closest friends' treasures, he fought a little bit harder, moved a little bit quicker and a little bit more recklessly to ensure that you made it out, that you’d be the one to explain to your best friend why her husband is not coming home to dinner, rather than he have to explain to Izuku why the mother of his child is no longer of this world. It’s a moment that plays in your mind constantly ever since you first heard the sickening crunch of bone and sinew give way, the spray of your child’s godfather’s blood soaking your clean clothes.

You’d just been at the grocery store and run into each other by chance. It’s been over a decade long gag now to pretend you hate each other more than everything while acknowledging that you’ve both intertwined your lives with a person the other holds terribly dear. When you saw Katsuki you crinkled your nose, a joke akin to ‘look what the cat dragged in’ muttered in some variation by you both, before walking side by side and catching up. The four of you had dinner plans that weekend anyway and Katsuki takes the idea of godparent far too seriously for being an only child, and thus was far too interested in what you were putting in your cart.

“I read kids develop their tastes early in life and I don’t think this” - he picks up a six-pack carton of juice that was admittedly laden in sugar from your cart - “is particularly conducive to healthy development.”

“Katsuki, I didn’t ask you,” you hiss, snatching it out of his hands, then sheepishly add, “in fact, that was mine.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“Figures for all that chaotic energy you have,” he jokes. 

You had more to say to him, and then merely ten minutes later, in a flurry of explosions and debris, screams and scattered people,  you were staring straight through his chest to the other side.

“Fuck.”

Fuck? You thought. Katsuki looking at you, then looking at the gaping wound in his chest, then looking at the incapacitated villain and the destroyed supermarket, then looking back at your hands deep in his wound, pressing down at his chest desperately to stop the bleeding as best you can, tears running down your cheeks. You who so often were joined at the hip with the one he loves, who’s grown to merge their natural smile with Izuku’s over time, whose face is distorted in fear and shock and desperation to keep him alive so you don’t have to tell your best friend that you are the reason he’s no longer here to protect her.

Because he was protecting you. For his friend. For his wife. For the kid you’ve entrusted to him in case something happens to your or Izuku's child, who better not get that goddamn juice box.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

You want to scream, no it’s not, it will never be, how am I supposed to tell her-

“I forgive you. I’m not mad. Just take care of her, okay?”

Katsuki’s voice was the quietest, calmest you had ever heard it be since you’ve met him and you hate that he smiled, and you hate hate hate that Izuku would have done it for him, too. 

The shaking turns into sobs again and Inko holds your hands tightly. Your son is upstairs, too occupied with toys, again far too polite and considerate, and you wonder if he’ll remember how hard you are crying right now. If he’ll remember his father crying and holding you that terrible evening. You wonder what he’ll do when he’s old enough to know why his auntie doesn’t have a husband and why there are four people smiling in that wedding photo that hangs in your home instead of the three he knows, and who bought him nearly half of his books and toys. 

“I can’t go there,” you whisper again. 

Inko tilts her head. 

“But she needs you,” Inko murmurs. You wipe your tears with the back of your hands. Your husband, who isn’t the coward you are, is already at the funeral, working through funeral arrangements. Your throat dries up at how much he must be apologizing again, or perhaps he’s not apologizing at all, keeping his head up high and reminding everyone that Dynamight died saving someone important to him and what he did was not a mistake. 

“Kacchan is a true hero.” Izuku repeated softly into your ear, then to himself, then to you again, then to the world, then to his wife. His wife who should hate you but is too mournful to bother.

“I can’t go there,” you repeat. “I cannot look her in the eyes.”

But your best friend needs you and cried in your arms that very first night.

Inko nods.

“But she’d do it for you,” she says, softly.

She would do it for you, the same way Izuku would have done it for Katsuki. 

…

Moments later, you’re squeezing Dynamight’s widow’s hand as Izuku praises him, and you wish it hadn’t turned out this way but you’re at least fulfilling your promise.

Just take care of her, okay? 

You will, for the rest of your life.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Lovesick Leviathan

Male Leviathan x Gender Neutral Slime Reader (CW: Painless noncon, inhuman reader, size difference, kidnapping, magical branding, temporarily frozen reader, general yandere behavior, minor character death, extreme violence towards minor character) Word count: 3.3k (Piece developed with a lot of input and help from @maxog3n, they also did the amazing art posted with this piece. I am sorry this took so long, but really hope you all enjoy it.)

Screams of pain, some ominous cracking sounds, and then silence.

Auggie let out a defeated sigh as he peeled the body of the human he had just fucked to death off of his cock, their pulverized insides mixed with his blue cum and leaking out everywhere.

Like the others that had died to his amorous pursuits, he hadn’t meant to kill them. In fact, he had loved each one of them and wanted them to be his mate. He carefully determined a suitable candidate, brought them home against their will, and eventually couldn’t contain his lust anymore and fucked them.

The problem was that he was not human. He was a leviathan and his massive member was simply too huge, both long and thick, and his thrusts were powerful. None survived even a single round with him.

He shed a tear as he buried his latest victim.

Then he wiped it away and immediately regained his usual jovial composure. That’s okay, they just weren’t “the one”. He had to expect these kinda snags every now and then if he was going to put himself out on the market.

It was just how dating worked.

Auggie decided that he needed to clear his mind and leave his shack for a while. Get some fresh air. Maybe he would add to his collection of items. Much like a mermaid, leviathans like him hoarded trinkets and baubles.

He made the decision to hit up the old abandoned building a few miles up the coast from his seaside abode. He did not know what the building had once been for, but he was very adventurous and was always looking for new stuff to add to his collection of treasures or materials to extend his shack with.

The leviathan definitely didn’t feel like going into town. Sure, the humans all fled and he could take whatever he wanted, but he did not want to deal with the panicked screams. Plus, he had already done that a dozen times, he wanted to explore somewhere new. And besides, the town was a lot farther than the abandoned facility and he didn’t feel like being out too late. Not with the long he had.

Auggie left the confines of his ramshackle house, and waded into the water, the blood from his previous “mate” leaving a faint trail of blood behind him as he swam up the coast towards his destination.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You were thrilled, your home was finally starting to feel cozy. Or whatever passed as cozy for a saltwater slime.

Spending all your life in the water just did not appeal to you, the surface was just so fascinating. You had spent a little time among some open-minded humans, but you longed to be closer to the sea.

So when you found a brine filled desalination plant completely abandoned for you to do with as you pleased you knew you had found a home from which you could explore the surrounding land and retreat to should the need arise.

It had taken a while, a little over a month, for you to tidy the place up and get things how you liked it. You had decorated the place with seashells, dead corals, and current smoothed glass to make everything feel more natural. You had even covered the first floor with a thick layer of sand!

Everything was perfect.

Just when you were admiring the work you had finally completed when you heard the stomping of a large animal of some type approaching.

You peered out the window and gasped.

A huge… thing… approached.

You had no idea what he could be. You only assumed it was a he because of the giant uncut cock flopping from below the most tiny and useless loincloth imaginable.

The lumbering behemoth had a chubby build, striking blue skin, scales from his ankles to his knees and from his wrists to his elbows, he had fins where a human’s ears would be, sharp teeth, and his dark medium length hair wasn’t hair at all, but instead a writing mass of tentacles.

He came closer and closer to the desalination facility, your home, it was clear it was his intent to enter and not just pass by like you had hoped.

The best option was to hide yourself. Luckily you were crystal clear, like gooey water, and could camouflage yourself easily.

There were many steel barrels along the wall to catch water from a sometimes leaky roof, you decided to hop in, even if he peeped in all you would just blend right in with the water that was in it.

Seconds after you got in you heard the door creak open.

Auggie took a few steps in and looked around the place, getting a handle of his surroundings.

The place had sand everywhere. And dried corals, shells, and smooth glass everywhere. Odd. It clearly wasn’t as abandoned as it had appeared to be from outside.

Maybe there was a potential mate here! If he wanted to find his soul mate he knew he had to be open minded about finding his partner wherever they may happen to meet.

And whoever called this place home had an aesthetic he enjoyed. They lived in a run down building not entirely unlike his shack, they were opportunistic like he was and they decorated the place to be like the ocean from which he originated.

He was sure he would get along well with whoever lived here.

You could not see him from your current position in the barrel, but you could hear him walking around and sniffing as if hunting for something.

Auggie explored every nook and cranny, using his sensitive nose to guide him, but even though it was clear as day that someone was using this as a home he could detect no scent other than that of saltwater.

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to return to his original mission, seeking out trinkets for his treasure hoard and possibly materials to build with.

He found some rope and used it to tie some sheets of metal to his back, but other than that he hadn’t found much for his home. Carrying these he wouldn’t be able to swim back, he’d have to walk back at a leisurely pace.

Auggie started to head towards the doors to leave, as he did you heard the sound of his footsteps retreating and were so relieved.

But it was premature, he was disappointed in his haul so he took one last glance around the room just in case he missed something. He spied some pristine barrels in the corner. He could always use a nice new barrel!

The giant invader found one that was full of water, likely from that storm last night, it was pretty hot and since he had to walk back a refreshing splash of water would be nice and cooling should he need it on the return trip home.

You panicked as you and the water around you sloshed as he picked up the container that was currently serving as your hiding place. But your only option was to remain hidden for as long as you possibly could and make a break for it when you could.

Despite not having a traditional stomach you still felt very nauseous at being jostled with every step your unwitting kidnapper made. With how you were disoriented, you could not even give an accurate estimate of how long you had been in your current predicament, what was probably just thirty or forty minutes felt like unending hours.

Finally the moving about came to a stop, maybe he was home, maybe he would leave the container outside to use for water collection, you dared to hope. But these hopes were short lived as the behemoth lifted the container up and poured it over himself to cool off, causing you to tumble out in your default humanoid shape and reflexively grab on to whatever you could to prevent falling.

Whatever you could grab was the man who invaded your home, your gel-like arms around his broad shoulders.

You stared at each other for a moment until Auggie got a slight blush that was quickly replaced by a huge grin, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth.

A brand new romantic interest just fell right into his lap! Well, you weren’t on his lap yet, but there would be time for that soon enough.

When you had recovered from the shock of being dumped directly on to this strange blue man you pushed yourself off of him and fell to the ground with a wet plop.

You started running.

“Hey wait! That’s really rude! I haven’t decided if I’m your boyfriend yet!!!”

What the hell was wrong with this guy? You heard him utter some strange mystic sounding words before hearing an odd whoosh and suddenly you felt indescribably heavy. Your vision frosted over and you fell over. Hard.

Everything was so cold, you couldn’t move at all! You had been completely frozen, evidently this crazy man had ice magic. Just your luck.

“Don’t worry, I am pretty sure I will be your boyfriend! I liked all the décor in your former home. We have so much more in common than the people I normally date!”

He walked up to you slowly, picked you up carefully, and then placed you back in the barrel he had been unwittingly hauling you in.

This manner of being handled was… humiliating to say the least.

Once again you were jostled around in the barrel, now without water and with more pain in your newly acquired solidified form. It was so restrictive. You were used to being more free moving than what a solid being was capable of and now here you were completely paralyzed.

Once again, the trip felt like it was taking an eternity. Except now it was worse, as every second was punctuated by the deep seated fear of what may become of you when the journey ended.

You also were forced to contend with the large man’s non-stop talking.

“I’m Auggie! I am so glad we met. I think it was probably fate. Like we were meant to find each other! I haven't met many slimes before. Only a couple times when swimming and I couldn’t see them well enough in the water to bring them back to date…”

You tuned Auggie out after a while. He just wouldn’t stop talking about how happy he was and how he had been in need of a new partner.

Finally you thawed out enough to talk, though you were still too stiff to move quickly.

“What is wrong with you!? We are NOT dating!!”

“Oh~ You have such a lovely voice! I am so happy to hear it. We are definitely dating now so I can hear you talk everyday~”

He hummed happily as he continued about his merry way, leaving your objection completely unacknowledged.

“Excuse me!? I just said we are NOT dating!!”

Though the words he spoke were… demented… he said them in the same happy go lucky jovial tone with which he had been speaking, “Don’t be silly, of course we are. I already was sure I would like you based on your home and with us both being sea critters, but after hearing your voice I simply can’t be without you~ I am so sorry if I implied you have a choice!”

After letting out a defeated whimper you went silent.

Auggie continued babbling about all the stuff the two of you would do together. As your destination approached he started running, he was just so eager to get you nice and settled in your brand new home.

You grunted in annoyance as you were bounced about in your glorified bucket.

“Oh. Heh heh. Sorry, I just got carried away.”

He slowed down to a brisk walk the rest of the way.

“We’re here!” He shouted in a chipper manner. For a totally psychotic kidnapper hellbent on forcing you to be in a relationship he sure was cheerful.

The barrel was placed down with a thud before he pulled you out. You were thawed to the point of being like a slurry and his warm hands felt rather nice.

Though you’d still rather be anywhere else.

You saw his home and were shocked, how could anyone live in something like this? It was a towering mass of junk. Large slabs of metal and wood cobbled together. It was actually kinda impressive how structurally sound it appeared to be despite the building materials used in its construction.

Auggie slung your chilled form over his shoulders without warning, eliciting a startled sound from you.

He opened the doors and set you down on a rugged chair that was clearly meant for beings around your size. Humans.

How many people had been forced to accept Auggie as their “boyfriend”. Were you going to die here?

You took stock of your surroundings, if you were ever going to escape you would need to know potential weapons, escape routes, and hiding places.

But honestly you didn’t even know where to start, the building was huge as it was meant for such a large being like Auggie. And it seemed like he had the same inclinations as mermen when it came to collecting objects of interest. Though instead of valuables like coins, gems, and shells Auggie seemed to be interested in… a different sort of collection.

Mounted on the wall as if some sort of poster was a set of doors that read “Tony’s Bar and Bistro”. Standing in the corner was a surfboard that looked as if a bite had been taken out of it with a lifebuoy around it. Other items strewn about the place included a slot machine, street signs, and a child’s tricycle.

There were random items in all sorts of places.

The ceiling was no exception. Hanging upside down from the ceiling, above even Auggie’s head, were several random and out of place items. Though the strangest of all was a… parking meter? You couldn’t be sure, you had only stealthily visited a human city a couple times.

None of this stuff helped you though, and it seemed the only way out was through the large front door.

Without any warning Auggie crouched down in front of you and stared intensely with a smug grin.

“I bet right now you are thinking of ways to leave aren’t cha? Without even giving our love a chance! Don’t worry I will take the burden of worrying about freedom away!”

He held his webbed pointer finger to your chest and muttered a complex incantation. You didn’t notice it before but he had a tattoo in the shape of a trident on his thigh, it glowed with a blue light as he uttered his spell and suddenly you had a matching tattoo marked on your chest.

It didn’t harm you at all, but his wicked grin coupled with the mark’s magical origins worried you.

“Wh-what’s that…?”

“Do you like it? It’s my brand! It means you’re alllll mine~”

You gave a face of disgust.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe it yet, some people are just slower learners. That’s okay.”

Your only reply was to glare at him silently.

“You’re never leaving me.”

You chose to just keep shooting him an angry look. It didn’t matter what he thought, you would slip away at the first opportunity. You were a slime, slippery and versatile, there were very few ways you could be contained long term. And he couldn’t just keep re-freezing you every single time you bolted.

“Haha, what? Don’t believe me dummy? Okay then… go ahead…”

With a smirk he got up and went to the door, holding it wide open for you.

“Go on, leave.”

He gestured you out the door and you didn’t hesitate, maybe he thought he could freeze you, or close the door, or push you back somehow, but were prepared for anything. You were positive that the smug expression was wiped from his face as you took on a taller and slimmer shape and zipped on by before he could react.

You got maybe all of 15ft. away from the shack before you were yanked back by some invisible force and landed on the ground.

“What th-”

You heard the heavy footsteps of your captor approach from behind.

“Have you caught on yet cutie? I told you, you’re allll mine~ My little mark on you ties you to me, you will never be able to go very far.”

For the first time that day you truly felt despair. The thought you could get away was the sole barrier that had prevented you from giving in to the filling of hopelessness that now threatened to consume you, but that was gone now. You were left with nothing but soul crushing helplessness… that and Auggie.

He scooped you up and carried you back to his house laying you in his large and rather decadent bed, a stark contrast to the ramshackle state of the rest of his home.

Auggie stood by the bed and positioned your legs to hang off of it, you guessed at what he was planning but were too caught up in your sense of doom and despair to react properly or mount even the slightest resistance.

“Awww, don’t be sad darlin’, this’ll be fun!” He chuckled with his normal sense of joy and lack of care for what anyone else wanted.

The leviathan stroked his cock to its staggering full length and lined it up between your legs.

You did not have an entrance there. Slimes simply absorbed plankton or other nutrient sources through their membranes and deposited what was indigestible in the same manner, and there was no conventional reproductive system. Slimes of your type would meet, partially join limbs, and create an egg.

But that sure didn’t stop Auggie from penetrating you anyway.

Luckily your slime body was extremely durable and felt little pain from such actions. He slammed into you right through your membrane, gripping your sides as he pulled you down to the base. His blue precum leaked into your body, leaving blue streaks where it dissolved.

He moved you back and forth like a fleshlight, like you were just some toy for his pleasure, not a living being with your own agency.

You were entirely limp in his hands, just a nice gooey warmth around his cock, feeling neither pleasure or pain from his ever increasing thrusts.

No, as you stared up at him, being moved back and forth on his cock, the only thing you felt was an uncomfortable pressure. And an overwhelming sense of violation.

Finally he pushed in as far as he could, his dick drilling all the way into your head as he unleashed his glowing blue cum into you. He let out a relaxed sigh as his cock lay inside you throbbing, still drooling more and more seed into you from his huge nuts.

Auggie finally pulled out of you, his semen had made your entire body swell considerably and it turned you from clear and transparent to a bright and faintly glowing blue as your body absorbed it like food.

“Oooh, you took my cock so well and became even prettier! It definitely means you’re meant for me! And it looks like my cum is good food for my gooey little darling too~ Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to feed you plenty EVERY. DAY.”

Your existence as a slime, what once granted you versatility and mobility. What you considered a blessed existence better than being a restrained solid, was now the cause of your loss of any freedom.

Because now that Auggie was in love with a mate that his cock couldn’t kill he was never going to let you go.

[asterias-record-shop]

BINGOO! Can you please write a Miguel O’Hara sugar daddy story with prompt 15? I’m not creative enough to write a description for this but could you add a mention of the age gap? Miguel is Like 30 or something. Reader is young and wants money ofc. They met online and are meeting up irl. Thank youu

—𓆩[mi menté, cuerpo, corazón, y alma]𓆪—

I am so sorry anón honey, I got completely carried away!! I hope you enjoy it though!

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Modern AU! CEO! Sugar Daddy! Soft! Miguel O'Hara x Sugar Baby! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.1K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You loved being a sugar baby. Truly, you did. The only con was the fact that you had to get with someone who was literally a hair away from dying, so when Miguel found you, it was truly a saving grace. After a while, he made you cut off all of your other sugar daddies, easily matching what they give you and more. Things have gotten weird lately, though… and you’re not sure how to take it, even when he says everything is ‘strictly pleasure’.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing and foul language || obsessive behavior || sugar daddy & sugar baby relationship || possessive! Miguel || his wife and daughter do not exist anymore 🤍 like at all || Latina coded reader || featuring Jessica Drew as another CEO because we love her (spider-verse variant) || sugar daddy & sugar baby relationship turned real relationship || i speak rancho spanish so i write rancho spanish, it ain’t google translate so it might not make sense- || miguel is lowkey an asshole so he is an asshole now || fighting || you make him fix himself || i’m ngl, i don’t know what the hell i did but i had fun and there’s smut so enjoy || this is so much more kinky than it initially was going to be- || kinda OOC Miguel || sub turned dom! reader || sub! Miguel || sounding || cbt || slight oral || praise & degradation || riding || non-protected sex || cumming inside || ending is supposed to be humorous I’m not weird ||

Finding a sugar daddy that wasn’t quadruple your age was hard. Very, very hard. What was wrong with men? Couldn’t they just become billionaires at twenty-five?

Bastards.

Oh, but then Miguel O’Hara came along. A man in his early thirties that absolutely towered over you at 6’9”, built like a fucking god with looks to match and wealth to pair.

In the beginning, though, you had your doubts, so many doubts. You didn’t know what made him drawn to you in the first place, mainly because you had over five sugar daddies and he easily matched the prices immediately and made you get rid of them. He easily matched all your prices, doing even more before purchasing a test to make sure you were ‘healthy’.

After that, everything else happened extremely quickly - him buying you a car, jewelry and clothes, but the most recent was having you move in with him in his extremely large mansion. The first thing you noticed was that he had nothing in his home that gave it personality. No pictures, just crazy expensive art and photographs of things that were also crazy expensive.

He didn’t even have plants. Or a dog. Or a cat, something to give him some sort of personality besides that stupidly hot face. And stupidly hot money, but that’s why he was at work while you were at a shelter, promising yourself that you’d take some sort of pet home. You had settled on a kitten, a tuxedo kitten with a little bow tie and a mustache, along with small little mittens on his paws.

He immediately curled in your lap, a giggle falling from your lips as you stroked the back of his head. “I’ll take this one… I’m gonna name him Hart.”

And with that, you took him home. You bought him his own bed and all of the toys he could ever want or need, and you sat in the closet you had made his room as you wagged the cat toy in front of him, Jessica on the phone.

“Y/N, I really think you’re going to kill him bringing that cat into his house!” She laughed, snacking on her latest craving.

“Oh, he won’t! You’re being overdramatic, he’s gonna love Hart,” you wiggle the stick some more, the kitten swatting at it as you heard Miguel’s loud voice yell out for you. “Oh! He’s here, I’ll call you later Jess! Love you!”

“Don’t get killed!”

You giggled as you hung up and quickly stood, running out and fixing your skirt. “Miguel!”

He was tired today, you could tell. His body was more tense than you had ever seen, the buttons at the top of his shirt undone and his tie loose with his blazer open. You paused, his clenched fists making you swallow slightly. You had your share of violent lovers, and you sure as hell weren’t going to have another.

“Hola, mi reina,” he whispered, voice hoarse as he set down his briefcase and his fists unclenched. He softly set his hand on your hip, kissing softly against your temple as he sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s been a tough day.”

You inhaled as he softly pressed kisses down your temple around your eye, along the apple of your cheek. “Wh-What happened?”

He shook his head, his hands going from your hips to the pretty skin of your thighs that was exposed by the skirt. “Stupid idiots who don’t know how to fucking do their job.”

You hummed softly as you stroked the back of his head, twirling the locks of his hair with your fingers as you kissed his sharp jaw. You were already on your tiptoes, his hands supporting you as he ducked down. “I’m so sorry, Miguel,” you whispered as he let out a soft hum. “I uhm… I got something.”

“Ah si?” he responded, his hands slipping under your skirt to tease your pretty cunt. “Es esto, mi reina?”

“No,” you giggled, shaking your head. “Lemme show you.”

He smiled as you dragged him along, pulling him toward the closet you turned into the kitten’s room before turning around. “You can’t get mad.”

He started to cross his arms, raising a brow. “Why would I get mad?”

“You won’t be mad because you can’t. That’s my whole point,” you say, nodding firmly. “Okay?”

“You can’t say I can’t get mad and expect me not to get mad.”

“Oh, shut up!” You laughed, shaking your head as he hummed softly and leaned down. “Just… trust me.”

He hummed again as you opened the door, the loud mews of the kitten making his eyes widen. You felt your smile disappear as you inhaled, shaking your head as you turned around. “This is Hart! He’s a little spy,” you giggled, kissing the kitten’s small head. “H-He was named after-”

“I know who he’s named after, Y/N,” Miguel growled, glaring at the kitten in your hand. “Why is it in my house?”

“Our house,” you correct him, a scoff falling from his lips. “What?”

“My house,” he basically growled, stepping forward as you started to step back. “Just because I fuck you like a ragdoll and cum inside of you like a cumdump doesn’t mean that this is your house.”

You inhaled as you held the kitten closer to your chest, scoffing. “You’re a fucking bastard, Miguel O’Hara. This is strictly business as always, isn’t it? You fucking asshole.”

He scoffed as you went around him, shaking his head. “This is mine, Y/N! All of it!”

“It might be yours, Miguel, but you don’t want it! You keep this giant house full of nothing that you love, nothing that you care for! You don’t even have a damn plant here!” You yelled at him, inhaling as you sent him a glare. “You’re a self absorbed bastard, Miguel.”

“I have you here,” Miguel spoke, something that completely betrayed his previous words. “You’re… all I could ever need.”

“You don’t need me though. The only thing that you fucking need is a damn whore,” you shake your head, keeping Hart close to your chest. “I will get myself a lawyer to get myself out of this contract, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“Y/N, wait-”

“No! Fuck you!” You were already rushing to your room - which was sadly one you shared with Miguel - locking it before he could come in after you.

“Y/N, amor… mi amor, I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not!” You yelled, sighing. How could you ever think this would go any other way? “Just… go away!”

To be honest, you weren’t sure what made you think you could love him. Actually love him and have it reciprocated, but you didn’t want to leave. You had worked so hard in this relationship with Miguel, gaining his trust and what you thought was his love, for fucks sake you couldn’t lose it now. What he said just… got to you.

It wasn’t until you heard a soft knock that you unlocked the door, Miguel slowly stepping into the room. “What do you want?”

“I just… look at this,” he gave you the binder, swallowing. “If you uhm… look at it, it annuls our last contract… if you sign it, mi amor-”

“What, are you gonna try and bribe me?” I ask, softly scratching Hart’s ear before he gives you the binder.

“Perdóname, amor,” he whispers, slowly falling to his knees in front of you. You certainly weren’t expecting this. “Read it.”

“Summarize it for me.”

“It says that you own me,” he says, tilting his head. “Everything I own, you own. Everything I am is yours,” he takes your hand, softly kissing against your wrist. “I’m sorry… that it took me so long to see how important you are to me. Soy tuyo, mi mente, cuerpo, y alma.”

You swallow as you stare at the dotted line, looking down at him as he kisses your skin. “Tu cuerpo? Es mío?”

He groaned as your hand shapes his jaw, softly tugging on his hair as Hart jumped down, sauntering out of the room as though he knew what was about to happen. “Todo es tuyo, mi amor,” he whispers, groaning as you pull his hair so he’d stare up at you. “Todo lo que quieras, es tuyo. Nomás me digas y es tuyo. Todo, todo es tuyo.”

You hummed, sighing as you moved your hips to come off the bed slightly. “Show me. Show me that you belong to me and I’ll sign it.”

He hummed, sending you a smile as he started to kiss against your wrist. “Of course, mi reina.”

You smile slightly as he starts to tug off his shirt, carefully unbuttoning and kissing along your calf before slipping off your heels. “If this keeps going, Miguel, you need to know that I’m not putting up with your bullshit.”

“Ya se, mi reina,” he whispers, his tongue flattening up your thigh as he pulls down your skirt. “I’m aware.”

“I’m going to sign that shit in your cum.”

He laughed, nodding. “If that’s what you want to do, mi amor.”

You tilted your head down at him, raising a brow. “That raises no red flags?”

“No, they’re actually green.”

You hold back a laugh as he slowly stands up, already taking off his clothes before you put up a finger. “I’m in charge, right?”

“Yes,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “What would you like me to do, hm?”

“Get on the bed,” you say, standing and slipping off your clothes. “Why are you just standing there? Go.”

Miguel smirked slightly, but followed your orders, his bare body looking perfect against the bed. “Well, what do you want me to do next, mi amor?”

You hummed, staring for another few minutes. “Get hard. I’ll be back.”

You go into your closet, but after hearing Miguel’s moans, you knew he listened to what you said. It wasn’t until you went into your drawer filled with sex toys did you know what you wanted to do - oh, you were going to make him sob. You grabbed the small silver toy you had never had the chance to use on him, biting your lip as you finished taking off the rest of your clothes and fixing your bra and underwear.

It was normal to makeup with Miguel with sex, then talk about what happened and why it should never happen again before you fell asleep, resulting in Miguel waking you up with breakfast in bed and another lavish apology gift.

When you walked out, you smiled when you saw Miguel bucking his hips into his hand, his thick cock dribbling precum out of his bright red tip. “Look how pretty your cock is, baby… so, so pretty.”

He lets out a dry laugh, groaning. “Oh yeah? Que vas hacer?”

You giggled, slowly sliding between his legs and taking out the metal sounding rod. “Voy a jugar con lo que es mío.”

He lets out a choked moan as the cold tip of the rod dragged in a circle along the tip of his cock, already lubed up so you wouldn’t hurt him, a giggle escaping your lips as you slowly pushed it into his cock. He lets out a choked moan as you laugh, watching as it slowly disappears inside of his cock.

“Hijo de su pinche madre,” he cursed, groaning as he bucked his hips, stomach clenching as you watched his body slowly fall to your mercy. “Amor, please, please- I'll be good, I just need to fuck you.”

“Cállate,” you ordered, giggling as you pushed it inside until the ring was showing, your mouth latching onto his balls and sucking softly. “Come on, be a good boy and fuck it.”

He cursed as he starts to roll his hips, following the sounding rod as he groaned loudly. One of your hands rubs along his thighs, giggling as you stared up at his face all scrunched and desperate. He really did make a good sub.

“Come on, don’t stop now, Miguel, you’re doing so good,” you move away from his balls but continue to cup them, moving so that his fat cock was settled on his abdomen and you rubbed your now bare pussy against his shaft. “Come on baby, I know you want to cum. As soon as you cum, I’ll put your cock in me and I’ll let you fuck me.”

He groaned loudly, almost growl-like sounds falling from his lips as he forced his hips to go faster, fucking into the sounding rod as he rubbed against your wet cunt. You couldn’t hold back your own moans, the friction of his cock perfect against your cunt and he wasn’t even inside of you yet.

“Amor, please, please!” He was begging to cum, even if he didn’t quite know it yet, a groan falling from your lips as you continued to squeeze and rub his balls. He had never been this quick to cum, and you knew you’d have to try this again soon. “I’m close, chingao, I’m close.”

You let out a laugh as you watch the sounding rod start to be pushed out, pushing it back in as he whined. “Not yet, amor mío.”

“Por favor, mi vida, necesito- fuck!” He screamed out as you continued to hump against his length, pushing and pulling the rod in and out of his cock.

“Say it again. That you’re mine.”

“Fuck, I’m yours! Soy tuyo, mi mente, cuerpo, corazón, y alma, ¡chingada madre!” He yelled out as you finally let go of the sounding rod, watching it pop out of his cock and a perfect, pornographic cumshot follow. You moved your hand from his balls, lifting your hips as you continued to pump his shaft. You watched as the pearlescent liquid spurts onto his toned abdomen, smiling before cupping your hand in front of his tip and gathering his cum.

He panted, watching as you slowly smeared it along your cunt and placed the sounding rod onto the nightstand. “Next time we need to go bigger.”

“Whatever you say, amor,” he whispers, groaning as you pull his cock to push into your cunt, another loud groan falling from his lips. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“I know,” you spoke, laughing slightly as you gasped. No matter how many times his cock was inside of you, you never got used to it. “Fuck, Miguel, It’s like you get bigger every time.”

“Maybe I do,” he smirked, offering that playful wording as you finally sat on his pelvis, groaning loudly. “Look at how perfect you look with my cock inside of you, mi reina. Fucking perfect.”

You whimpered, groaning as you started to roll your hips, his cock feeling as though it was deeper than it ever was. “N-No, no.”

He smirked, tilting his head. “No what, amor? Tell me.”

“Stop that,” you order, knowing damn well if he kept talking like that you’d soon be on your back begging for him to fuck you. That’s now how it was going to happen, not today. “I’m in charge. Not you.”

“I never said you weren’t, amor-”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips firmly to his as he held your hips, helping you rock onto his cock. “Stop talking.”

He laughs as his other hand pulled you in for another firm kiss, your hands searching for the contract before his hips slam up into you. You pulled away, gasping as he lets out a loud groan, cursing. “Thought you needed some help, mi amor.”

Your hands claw against his shoulders as he keeps your chest pressed to his, using his strength to easily thrust up into you. For fucks sake, he couldn’t even let you have this, but you weren’t complaining as he grunted underneath you and you felt his cock rub against every place you ever wanted him to be. He repeatedly thrusted into you at that perfect rate to hit that spot inside of you that just made your body go limp, stomach twisting and turning.

One of the pros of having a man who knew your body like the back of his hand was that you could always count on him making you cum.

You gasped as his cock finally thrusted against that perfect spot that easily made you come undone, mind blurring as you basically see stars right as your nails dig into his skin. Your cunt clenched and squeezed his cock as a result of your orgasm, a hissed groan falling from his lips as he thrusted a few more times and finally came inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back, the added feeling of his cum spurting inside of you, filling you up as your inner thighs started to register slight heat from the power of his thrusts. You panted as you started to sit up, Miguel letting out a slight laugh before you grabbed the sounding rod and the contract.

“Q-Qué estás haciendo?”

You looked up at him, giggling as you dipped the rod into his cum. “I said I was going to sign it with your cum.”

“Mierda, Y/N, don’t do that!”

“What?! You think I was joking?! I said it was a red flag!”

Thank all of you so much for supporting me!! Even though Bingo requests and Bingo itself is done, I have my next event already planned - please stay tuned!! Requests are closed but they will be open when I clear my inbox, and again, thank all of you so much!!

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© asterias-record-shop

[echo-and-dust]

now that my brain has somewhat unscrambled itself i have gotten most of my thoughts in order about season 3.

and the first thing i will say is: i loved it.

while it was gutwrenching and polarizing in some ways and i feel that i am entitled to financial compensation for what its done to my mental health, i loved this season for pretty much almost everything it did.

i cannot fault people for having issues with much of the characterization and plot choices made—that’s been the trend during the entire run of the show after all, and imo it’s a testament to the phenomenal way it generates nuance—but i wanted to share my feelings on the recurring opinions i’ve seen about some of these things.

first, i do not blame simon at all for the things he said in the final scene. he’s a child who has been receiving endless verbal and physical harassment on top of all the trauma he is still trying to heal from. he just watched his boyfriend lash out in anger and hurt—while not at him, but it must’ve been a close resemblance of how he might’ve seen micke act. at least, that's what i thought, though i've seen others say otherwise.

and yes, wille is not micke, but just because wille’s source of outbursts is different from micke’s doesn’t mean simon is wrong in drawing similarities. at least he's finally getting a true glimpse into what wille has had to deal with. i've honestly grown to like that they didn't have simon immediately comfort him though; wille's mental illness is not his fault, but it is his responsibility, and instead of pushing a message of unhealthy co-dependence, the show has simon be honest: "but i see that everything hurts you and that hurts me too." and to me, that's so important.

plus, it doesn't make their love any less genuine. wille is a victim of the circumstances; he is not evil, and he is not undeserving of simon. he just has a lot of growing and healing to do, a lot of unlearning and exposure therapy because he's still blinded by privilege even when he tries not to be.

speaking of, i have so many thoughts about wille that i feel like i need to save for its own separate post, but to sum them up: i'll still defend him with my life, and he needs to get the fuck away from that institution.

also, the fact that the responsibility of controlling simon's media decisions was placed solely on wille confused me at first like—why wouldn't they get a professional to give him proper media training?

then i realized, this could be the royal court's way of sabotaging their relationship. they knew that making wille the one to tell simon what he can and cannot say or post would create distance and animosity between them. despite the ramifications of simon's behavior on social media, it seems they still thought it best to have his boyfriend be the one to try to mold him into the system. because they knew that's how they could get rid of him. in conclusion, fuck the royal court (we been knew but still).

one of the standouts this season was their transparency regarding the show's politics. it not only works well with the show's arc (wilmon is public, everything's out in the open now and there's nothing to hide), but also it felt necessary at a time where censorship has been rapidly gaining momentum. it felt so refreshing for these characters to talk so openly about racial discrimination and queerphobia and class disparities, forcing both character and viewer to acknowledge that they exist and you should feel uncomfortable about it.

i don't think i can add much more to what was already said about it—most of the fandom is more eloquent and observant than i am anyway—i just wanted to reinforce how important this season is to myself and the story even with how controversial it is to fans right now. a lot of people may disagree with me and that's fine.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Are You There, Wolf? (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Synopsis: Minho had always deemed himself a bit of a weirdo. In his humble opinion, he’d only become even weirder with time, especially after he acquired his supernatural… condition. He’d never cared much about it, not when you’d always been there for him, and hopefully you would always be. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments related to Minho to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: Minho’s POV · mentions of shooting guns [it’s an off-handed comment made by Minho, nothing serious, but figured i’d put a warning] · mentions of gambling · mentions of cheating [but no one cheated] · mentions of blood, injuries, and violence · near death experiences · Minho was dumb and in denial for a long while · mentions and depictions of monster fucking shenanigans · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this originally started as a smutty drabble inspired by an ask from an anon… somehow it grew hands and beat me up and made me black out and now we’ve got a full instalment. a chunk of it is just stuff that happened in other instalments, but with Minho’s input. hope you enjoy ! special thanks to @notastraykid for reading this and letting me know it wasn’t the worst piece of literature she’s ever read.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Minho's previous WereRoomies instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

Smut Warnings: mentions of oral · somnophilia [all acts related to it are consensual] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Minho always believed himself to be a rational man. He was also an animal, yes. But his animal instincts were, essentially, stunted. 

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was born human and turned into a werewolf when he was very young, or if there was something wrong with him in general–he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Jisung–who’d been the first other werewolf Minho ever befriended–believed it to be the first option. He had encouraged Minho to go to a specialist and ask, but Minho never really paid much attention to it.

He figured that, as long as he didn’t feel ill or that he didn’t hurt anyone around him, it didn’t really matter.

However, just how many psychologists and therapists by trade seemed to choose that career path in order to understand their own brains and behaviours, sometimes he wondered if his own inability to understand his animal needs was what fully drove him into becoming a vet.

Sure, he had always cared for animal’s safety, he always knew one too many facts about many different critters, and with all the injured animals that seemed to come his way when he was a kid, he had spent more time at the vet’s office than he did in his own home. He supposed all things combined played a role in his career choice, and that had certainly helped him understand himself a little better… kind of.

Minho was a simple man. A man that, in a sick twist of fate, ended up becoming the dictionary definition of a monster.

He’d admit that for a long time, he blamed himself for what had happened to him. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t taken that detour through the woods that time I wouldn’t have been turned’, ‘Maybe if I had been paying attention to my surroundings I wouldn’t have been bit’, ‘Maybe I did something horrible in a past life or this one to warrant such an event’, he’d always think about these things whenever the pains and aches caused by his condition were a bit too strong to bear.

It took him an even longer time to accept the fact that it hadn’t been his fault at all. Nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the situation. He would’ve never been able to predict that a giant wolf would come out of nowhere and bite him completely unprompted. 

To this day, over ten years later, Minho still couldn’t remember what the wolf looked like.

It all happened so fast… All he could remember was the fuzzy canine shape, the sound of growls and snarls and of his own bones cracking inside his body, along with the searing pain that spread from the gash that the creature had left on his side.

He couldn’t remember the bleeding, or the amount of time he spent laying on the forest ground, or even the moment he was eventually found. One second he was in an immense amount of pain, and the next he was completely fine, as if nothing had happened, laying on a hospital bed with his best friend hugging him and sobbing against his chest.

Minho could’ve never imagined that that event in the woods would change the way he interacted with the world forever.

One seemingly normal evening after what he thought had been ‘an accident’, while he was hanging out in his best friend’s home, doing their weekly watch of Kamen Rider, it was like something suddenly started rattling inside of him. Like an itch one can’t seem to scratch satisfactorily.

He couldn’t breathe, his joints hurt, all his muscles seemed to burn, and before he knew it, he was feeling parts of his body he had never felt before. His vision felt different, his sense of smell was overwhelmed, and although his surroundings were familiar, it was almost like he was seeing them from someone else’s perspective.

Needless to say, he was having a full on meltdown right then and there. Especially when he caught what he thought would be a glimpse of himself on a reflective surface, and what he saw instead was a dog… Well, more accurately, a wolf.

To this day, he was very grateful that it all happened while you, his best friend, were there with him. Minho honestly wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted had he been on his own. He could still remember the panic he felt, how much he was crying, how much you were crying. Things would’ve probably been very different if you hadn’t hugged him tight and reassured him time and time again that you’d be there for him… That you wanted to figure this out together.

When he had finally understood what had happened to him in the woods, and after many trips to the local library to do some digging on the internet, you both came to the conclusion that the most logical explanation to his newfound condition was that he was now afflicted with lycanthropy… And it wasn’t the psychological kind.

Which was crazy. 

Completely absurd.

But what seemed to be sourced in fantasy and myths was literally the only thing that matched his symptoms perfectly.

Everything was confusing for a long time after that. Everything was too loud, too bright, too intense… His already sensitive senses seemed to be overstimulated all day, every day–even worse than before–and he could hardly cope.

He could hear conversations that were happening metres away from him, he could hear people’s breathing and their heartbeats and sometimes other internal organs as well… It was honestly driving him a little bit insane.

Minho realised very quickly that having a supernaturally enhanced sense of smell when he was starting high school was quite possibly one of the worst things to ever happen to him. Having been turned into a werewolf was hard enough on its own, now he had to deal with teenagers that seemed to hold a grudge against soap.

When it all got too overwhelming, he simply got close to you. As close as he could. He was sure he had memorised the rhythm of your heartbeat at this point, and the constant, familiar sound always seemed to help ease his sour mood.

‘Have you gotten a new perfume? Or a new fabric softener?’ He couldn’t help but ask one day. He’d noticed recently that there seemed to be a scent of lavender lingering around him whenever you were close. He didn’t mind. In fact, it actually comforted him quite a bit.

‘You know I don’t use fabric softener, dummy. And no, I haven’t gotten a new perfume’, your answer puzzled him a bit, but it wasn’t until a handful of months later, when he finally met Jisung, that he understood what that lavender scent was.

When Minho first met Jisung, he was honestly a bit surprised. Mostly because the second Jisung was within his radius, it was almost like he could tell the younger boy was a werewolf, too. There was something about the smell of roses and cotton radiating from Jisung that just gave it away, although Minho didn’t know how, or why.

Jisung quickly became an integral part of his friend group–although, to be fair,  ‘group’ was a big word to use, considering you were the only real friend Minho had, and the one he consistently hung out with. What used to be a simple pair of weirdos became a trio of weirdos, and Minho was genuinely happy about that.

He immediately felt like he could trust Jisung, and in the long run, Minho was grateful for his presence. Not only because Jisung was funny and eloquent and he also enjoyed watching niche TV shows, but also because Jisung helped him understand this unexplored side of him.

‘You’re an alpha, clearly’, Jisung told Minho once. As if that meant something important. ‘Your scent is kind of… Like, you smell of vanilla and a recently lit bonfire. Somehow very alpha-like, but milder than what I’m used to, I suppose…’

Jisung explained to him all these werewolf designations of alphas, betas, and omegas that were based on a werewolf’s inherent nature… He explained what scents were, how to tell what status a wolf had based on their scent, and when he confirmed that humans did, in fact, also have a scent, Minho just knew then that that lavender scent he always smelt when you were close was simply your natural scent. Just like cotton and roses was Jisung’s.

Meeting Jisung–aside from meeting you–was possibly one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to Minho. Not only did Jisung become one of his best friends in this whole wide world, not only did he help Minho understand his newfound nature, but also, thanks to him, Minho was finally able to find a family of his own.

Being honest, in his hometown, Minho didn’t have anyone but you. His mother barely even gave him the time of day–mostly because she was busy working two or three jobs to support them both.

When his now step-dad came into the picture, money was no longer a problem, but by that point Minho had already been turned, and that, coupled with the fact that his step-dad wasn’t really that good of a man, was enough for him to distance himself from his relatives.

Minho also had Jisung for a while, but he eventually left town because his entire pack was moving out. That was fine, he was sure they would meet again eventually. Besides, technology around that time made it so it was hardly possible to not be in contact with someone.

After high school, when Minho finally decided to pursue higher education–to pursue his dream of becoming a vet–the university he wanted to study in was, coincidentally, in the same area where Jisung was living then. And not only was Jisung living there, he was in a pack. A different one from his childhood one.

Back in the early stages of his friendship with Jisung, he had explained to Minho that werewolves usually lived in packs, just like regular wolves did. Jisung’s childhood pack didn’t treat omegas that well, from what Minho could recall. So, being an omega himself, Jisung always felt like a bit of an outcast. The fact that he had found a pack where he was actually comfortable was a big deal, and Minho was genuinely happy for his friend.

Even though the pack was essentially only three young wolves, Jisung always spoke highly of his two other packmates. ‘Chris and Changbin are amazing people, dude. Never met wolves like them aside from, like… you. I think you’d be a great addition to our pack, and Chris agrees! Come meet them, you won’t regret it’.

And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. If anything, joining Chris’ pack, becoming close to him and Changbin to help them lead it, was the third best thing that could’ve ever happened to Minho.

‘Changbin’s my right hand. Although it doesn’t make much sense to have a second in command when we’re, like, three dudes only, I feel like at any point more people could join us, so I like to be prepared’, Chris, the leader–the alpha–of that pack of Jisung’s wasn’t that much older than Minho, but there was something about him that exuded leadership and comfort. It was so obvious even someone like Minho, who wasn’t that in touch with his wolf instincts, was able to tell this man was a real alpha. 

‘It’s very customary for the alpha of the pack to have at least two other people next to them to deal with all possible pack matters, and Jisung believes you might be suitable for that. He said, and I quote, that you have a heart of gold. He vouches for you, and I trust him, so if you want to join and help me out, you’re more than welcome to. Hell, you’re welcome even if you don’t want to help me lead specifically, but it’s important you know that as a pack, we must always look out for each other’, Chris’ proposal was straight forward. No matter what role Minho would fill in, he was welcome to join them.

Being honest with himself, Minho wasn’t really that much of a leader–not in his opinion, at least–but the prospect of joining a pack seemed to tickle something on the back of his mind. He supposed it was one of those instinctual things he didn’t understand well, but, in a way, Chris made him feel reassured, so he told him he’d be happy to join and help him out however he could. With one condition, though.

‘You see, I’ve got my best friend… Not sure if Jisung has told you about her. She’s human, and she’s very important to me. If joining your pack of werewolves means I can’t see her anymore then I’m not doing it’, Minho loved Jisung, and he had a good impression of Chris and Changbin, but, truly, if joining them meant he had to leave you behind, he’d much rather stay on his own.

He knew from Jisung that the moment you moved into a werewolf den, a lot of decisions had to involve the alpha’s approval, and considering you were human, Minho had a genuine fear of Chris telling him that humans simply weren’t allowed. He’d honestly much rather shoot himself in the leg than have to cut ties with you. You’d been the only constant in his life, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford. You meant too much to him. Maybe more than he would’ve liked to admit back then.

Thankfully, Chris didn’t seem to have major issues with that. If anything, all he did was ask to meet you before you could stay at his den, and as long as you were someone that could be trusted, he wouldn’t have any problems with your presence at the den. That was fine, there was no doubt in Minho’s mind that Chris would like you and see just how nice you were.

He had obviously been right. Your first time meeting Chris couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Not even fifteen minutes passed and he was already dragging Minho to the side and telling him it was all good. 

‘I think she’s nice. It’s fine by me if your kitten drops by or stays over whenever you guys want’, Chris had patted him on the back, with a teasing grin on his face, taking special care to stress the word kitten–which was a nickname Minho had given you randomly one day years ago while trying to cheer you up.

Giving you that nickname had been a moment of weakness, a moment in which he also had been sad and his inhibitions had lowered a bit. The pet name just fell out of his mouth, it had practically been a perfect textbook definition of a Freudian slip, considering Minho had, quite stupidly, developed a crush on you by then.

Chris was a good person, but he also seemed to enjoy teasing Minho whenever his more than obvious crush presented itself, even when Minho himself was in denial about it.

Minho was convinced you didn’t feel anything other than platonic love towards him, so he always tried to delude himself into thinking he absolutely didn’t have a crush on you. You were his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, and he would never risk losing you over what he believed to be unrequited feelings.

Sometimes, though, it was almost impossible not to think about you in ways that would definitely be considered inappropriate. It was easy in his day to day life, but, twice a year, he had to face the fact that his feelings for you went beyond your friendship…

Minho was well aware that he was a weird guy. Throughout his life, he had only ever cared about animals, Kamen Rider, and you and Jisung. He could hardly hold a normal, civil conversation if it didn’t involve any of those things, he said things and had odd habits that could potentially put off people around him, and that was only on his human side. His wolf side was a whole other can of worms.

He already had a hard time understanding his basic human needs, and that seemed to triple when it came to his animal needs. For a long time he couldn’t tell when he needed to go on a run, or when he was in a bad mood because of a weird scent around him, and no need to even get started on whatever the hell was happening with his ruts…

Figuring out that he now had to go through days of unbearable horniness was by far one of the weirdest experiences Minho ever had to deal with during this whole ‘being turned into a half animal’ thing. After he reached sexual maturity, twice a year, he had a time period of around four to five days when every single one of his instincts and senses pulled him into a trance-like state in which all he wanted to do was fuck.

But not only did he want to fuck… He specifically wanted to breed someone. And even more specifically, he wanted to breed you.

It was awful. The whole ordeal was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting.

The first time he went into rut, he was sure the pain he was feeling came close to the one he briefly felt back when he had been bit and turned. His body was increasingly warm, he was sweating buckets, his cock was hard for an almost criminal amount of time, and nothing he did made it better. 

Even if he managed to make himself come, it barely helped him feel relieved. If anything, it got him more frustrated, to the point where he would start breaking things around him–both intentionally and unintentionally.

The worst part of going into rut, though, was the thoughts he had throughout those days. He could only think of you. Of kissing you, of tasting those utmost sensitive areas of your body, of bending you over and ramming himself into you until he got tied to you and got to fill you to the brim with his cum…

Logic was something that didn’t exist for him in this time period, so those thoughts ran freely in his mind for the duration of his rut… thoughts that he had to come face to face once his rut subsided and he could think like a human again instead of a horny dog.

Needless to say, Minho couldn’t look at your face for a whole month after he went through his first rut. He was haunted by the images his imagination had produced at the time, and he was convinced you didn’t deserve that, that he had somehow broken your trust. It was something he never spoke about with anyone. Not even Jisung. He made a vow to keep this a secret in order to protect your friendship.

Little did Minho know that his friendship with you didn’t need to be protected from anything…

Many years after his first rut, sharing a bed with you during one fateful trip to the woods with the whole pack, was all it took for the line of your friendship to blur completely. Minho had been in denial about his feelings for so long, he had been completely blind to your feelings.

That night, with his senses enhanced by the moon, with his animal instincts bubbling to the forefront of his human mind, that need for you seemed to be impossible to ignore. While he laid with you on that bed, under the covers, being your big spoon, he couldn’t help but get lost in how fast your heart was beating the tighter he hugged you, he was drowning in your lavender scent, and he genuinely didn’t want to be rescued.

You staring at his mouth for a moment too long while he hovered over you had suddenly ignited a spark of hope deep within him. That, added to your increased heart rate, and what he couldn’t mistake for anything other than arousal lingering in your scent, was quickly making him delirious.

‘Kitten… Why are you… Why are you looking at my mouth?’

‘Just thinking…’

‘About?’

‘Things I should not be thinking about’. 

After the words came out of your mouth, and with all the sensory inputs around him, Minho suddenly felt so incredibly stupid.

How had he never noticed that your body seemed to react to him in the same ways his did to you? How long had it been doing that? He had been blindsided by his own desperate attempts to not drive you away from him with his feelings, he had never noticed you looking at him in the same way he looked at you.

He wasn’t sure if it had been the moon reinforcing his stunted instincts just enough to enhance his questionable sense of awareness, but as he looked at you, as he saw just how blown your pupils were, as he watched you stare at his mouth, all caution flew out the window. For once, he decided to take a chance, and the moment his lips made contact with yours, the moment the tiniest of moans left your mouth with the contact, he just knew he had made the right choice.

Kissing you, after so many years of trying not to think of what it would feel like, was even better than he could’ve ever imagined. Minho was ravenous, desperate to feel as much of you as he possibly could, and you, very clearly, were in a similar state.

You both agreed–while still kissing, if he might add–that you needed to discuss the situation, but, admittedly, neither of you wanted to stop. So you didn’t, but only after reaching a compromise to talk about it later.

Minho honestly couldn’t even tell how many times you both had sex that night. It seemed like he’d entered a time pocket in which the only thing that mattered was indulging in each other’s body as many times as you possibly could.

By the time you were both thoroughly satisfied, he simply hugged you close under the covers, relishing the feel of your bare skin against his, relishing the feel of your head on his chest and his arms around your frame. Hugging you to sleep, especially this intimately, was everything he could’ve ever hoped for.

It wasn’t like he’d never hugged you to sleep. He’d shared a bed with you many times in the past, but doing it after having your lips on his, after knowing how it felt like to be inside you, and the mere idea that you reciprocated his feelings, was enough to make him fall asleep smiling to himself like a fool.

Even the next morning, when Minho woke up, still very much naked, when he turned around to find you already awake and looking at him, he couldn’t help but smile like a fool once again. Especially not when you were smiling so bright yourself.

“Morning”, you mumbled, immediately shuffling closer so you could tuck your head under his chin and hug his waist.

“Morning, kitten”, Minho pressed a kiss to the top of your head and hugged you even closer, slotting one of his legs between yours to further tangle your limbs together.

You just hummed, nuzzling his neck before you started to press kisses on it. Your soft lips on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, which certainly didn’t help ease the effects of morning wood.

Minho was drowsy, maybe even still horny, but he needed to have this conversation with you, or he was sure he’d explode. “Can we talk about it now?”

You pulled yourself away from his neck to look him in the eyes. Reaching forward with your hand, you pushed his hair out of his eyes, and the movement made them fall shut. “What do you wanna talk about?”

You kept playing with his hair for a bit, then traced the features of his face with the pad of one of your fingers, until his eyes opened again.

“I need to know where we go from here”.

You took a deep breath, mulling his words. Finally, you retracted your hand from his face to hold his hand instead. “Minho, I let you do things to me last night that I’ve never let anyone else do. I don’t know about you, but I hope where we go from here is a relationship”.

Minho couldn’t help but wonder then if he would ever stop smiling like a fool after all this. “So you’re my girlfriend now? Is this what we’re doing?”

“Only if you’re my boyfriend”, you chuckled, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheek.

Minho hugged your waist, and he pulled you closer into him. “Mmm… Your ex is gonna have a field day if he ever finds out”.

Your ex had spent the last leg of your relationship with him convinced you had cheated on him with Minho. During the big fight that led to your breakup, he had told you how obvious it was that Minho had feelings for you. At the time you just dumped his ass, and Minho, Jisung, and you spent a whole evening just dragging his name through the mud.

That relationship didn’t last long anyway. He was probably, in Minho’s opinion, the worst partner you had ever had. He was insecure, misogynistic, and manipulative. You hadn’t cheated on him, but Minho supposed there was one thing he had been right about… he did have feelings for you back then.

You scoffed at the mention of your ex, rolling your eyes. “Just like your ex probably will, too”.

Ah, Minho’s ex… It had been a long time since Minho had been in a relationship, but how could he forget the ex that made him choose between him and you?

He could admit it was an asshole move to be involved romantically with someone while having feelings for someone else, but back then he was so deep in denial he couldn’t even acknowledge what he felt for you. Regardless, you were still his friend, and he’d never choose anyone else over one of his friends. In his opinion, someone that cared about him would never make him choose in the first place.

“I guess we’ll have to let them froth at the mouth with rage and believe whatever they want to believe. That is, if they still care”, Minho chuckled, rolling you on your back to start pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

That seemingly innocent act of smothering your face with kisses turned into a much less innocent mess of lips and tongues. Minho came to find out that making out with you was absolutely exhilarating, especially when it ended with his mouth between your legs.

Fucking you that morning might’ve not been the smartest move to make when you both were about to walk into a kitchen full of people with enhanced senses, but Minho figured that if anyone commented on it, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it a secret, anyway.

Although, he’d admit that having Jisung scream it to everyone in the room caught him off guard. Just like learning that everyone had placed bets on whether Minho and you would get together last night also caught him off guard.

He figured he deserved that last one, considering he himself had also gotten the rest of the pack to place bets on whether Chris and his girlfriend would fuck last night or not…

In any case, other than the bet, the whole pack seemed to seamlessly embrace this new dynamic between you and Minho. After all, starting a relationship with you didn’t change things much.

You still lived almost an hour away from him, you still encouraged him to indulge in his interests, you still talked every day… If anything, the only major difference was that you met more frequently now. Seeing you weekly instead of monthly was certainly an improvement.

It was kind of amusing to Minho how everything was almost the same. He still took you places, still held your hand and hugged you and brushed your hair out of your face whenever he felt like it, but now he could let his fingers linger on your skin for longer, he could lean in and press a kiss wherever he wanted on your face, and, at the end of the day, he could take you home and fuck you dumb for as long as you’d let him.

There was only one thing, though, that seemed to be a problem… It was something he didn’t really want to acknowledge, but he knew would explode on his face at some point.

Minho was an animal.

Eventually, he’d go into rut, and knowing you, he was sure you’d want to help him go through it.

Minho had never spoken to you about his ruts, but he knew you’d learnt a great deal about it from the other girls at the den as well as Jisung. You’d never brought it up to him before, and he was sure it was because you simply knew he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Now that you were his girlfriend, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face this problem head on. Because that was what this whole thing was to Minho… a problem. 

Even if during his rut all he could think about was you, he usually got violent. Very violent.

He’d punch walls and break numerous pieces of furniture and appliances, and having you there with him could put you at risk of getting caught in the cross-fire. If he ever hurt you, Minho would never, ever forgive himself. Especially when he just knew you would. You would make excuses for him, you’d enable him and his animal ways like you always did, and he just didn’t want to put you in that position.

Granted, he should’ve probably told you all this, and he had been hyping himself up to do it, but you had been faster than him. The night you finally asked him about his rut he had been severely unprepared to handle the situation.

Minho told you he wouldn’t spend his rut with you. He could’ve probably worded it better, but before he knew it the situation escalated and you were having an argument and he had unintentionally made you feel unwanted, which was just so far from reality…

He wanted to tell you just how much he wanted you, but before he could you’d put space between yourselves and left him there on his own. It was late at night when it happened, but he wasn’t necessarily worried for your safety when you left, because he just knew you’d either go to one of the girls’ flats or to Jisung’s.

Forty minutes after the whole ordeal, he received a text from Jisung confirming his suspicions. The younger wolf told him you were at his place and that he’d take care of you for the night, which Minho was immensely grateful for.

He spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering how to best word his predicament so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt you and make you feel unwanted again. Essentially, his reservations when it came to spending his rut with you had nothing to do with you, and all to do with him.

So, the next morning, he made his way to Jisung’s and waited patiently for you to wake up. Jisung had given him a rundown of what had happened the night before, without revealing too much of what you’d told him since he usually liked to keep your conversations as private as possible–just like he kept the conversations he had with Minho as private as possible whenever he spoke to you.

So, when you woke up, Minho immediately explained the situation. He confessed to you how he’d always wanted you, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you whenever he went into rut, and how he got incredibly violent during that time period, so violent he feared he would harm you in any way.

You understood, of course. You always did.

You apologised for jumping to conclusions, and for forcing him to talk about something when he was clearly not ready to do it, which he appreciated. He also apologised for not communicating properly, an apology that you also seemed to accept. At the end of the day, he understood why the whole thing happened in the first place, and he made a mental note to try and not keep things like these from you ever again. 

Funny thing, how the universe always seems to play with people like they were little pieces in a funky little game.

When Minho did go into rut, he was so out of it he completely forgot to let you or anyone else know. You had a tendency to drop by his place unannounced, which he didn’t mind, but that day, it was far from ideal, to say the least.

He was sweating, frustrated, in pain, and the second he heard the beeps of the front door’s lock and the smell of your scent hit him, he just lost it.

It was all a blur after that. He tried to hold back, to tell you to leave, but you didn’t. Of course you wouldn’t leave…

To his surprise, that violence that seemed to seep out of him whenever he went into rut wasn’t there. His thoughts were plagued with only you and your lavender scent and the need to pleasure you and to pump you full of his pups.

When he finally managed to do all that, he quickly realised that he’d only ever been violent because he couldn’t have you. In retrospect, he should’ve known. But he’d proven to be tone deaf enough to not understand what his needs were, and this clearly wasn’t an exception.

Nothing had felt quite as fulfilling as spending that rut with you. It was all he’d ever wanted and more. His almost endless supply of cum, his knot, his insatiable need to fuck and fuck and fuck… You’d taken it all like a champ, and even when he wasn’t that in tune with his inner wolf, he could still feel just how proud it was, how proud he was of you.

The word mate kept repeating over and over in his mind the entire time, and he supposed you were his mate, all things considered.

Forever was a big word, but Minho figured that, at least at that point in time, he couldn’t ever imagine his life with anyone else. Especially not now that you were finally sharing your feelings with each other after years and years of pining.

For all he knew, anything that could have potentially been a problem in his relationship with you had been addressed after that. Minho was happy, you were happy, and it all seemed to have taken its natural course.

Except for one maybe not so small thing…

Minho wanted you to move in with him. He’d honestly wanted it since before you got together. He missed you often, and he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

The distance during the week was starting to stress him out way more than he’d like to admit, and even if he’d been slowly making space in his flat for you, he knew he’d ask you sooner or later. He hadn’t brought the topic up after you got together because he knew your job was important to you, and moving in with him would probably mean you’d have to quit and find something else closer to where the den was.

He could offer to support you financially, but he just knew you wouldn’t have wanted that. The second you’d started working and being financially independent, you couldn’t imagine ever having to rely on someone else–that was what you had told him all those years ago, at least…

You moving in with him made so much sense, though. Some weekends, Minho would go over to your place, but you’d told him several times that you preferred his home over yours. You’d told him it was more lively, that you enjoyed the presence of the other pack members, and that the only thing you genuinely liked about your flat was that Sir Percival was in it.

Sir Percival was your elderly cat that you adopted when you were a child. He was one of the many cats Minho had rescued, and he was probably the reason you ever spoke to Minho in the first place. Back then, the day you met, you approached him only because he was trying to save Sir Percival’s entire litter that had been abandoned by the side of the road.

So, yes. You moving in with him to Chris’ den just made all the sense in the world to him. Especially at moments like these.

Whenever Minho got to lay on your bed like he was doing now, he could certainly understand why you felt that his flat was more homely. You hardly had any decor in your room, and the whole flat was in a similar state. You never particularly liked this place in the first place, but you stayed because it was close to work and rent was relatively cheap.

‘I’ll probably move out soon, so no need to go all in on the decoration’, you’d told Minho years ago when you moved in. You kept putting it off, and now here this place was, void of anything that would highlight your wonderful personality other than the cat toys littering the floor, and the cat tower in the corner of your living room.

Whenever Minho came over, Sir Percival always avoided coming to your room unless it was absolutely necessary. The cat had told Minho that if he ever walked in on them having sex again he’d purposefully ruin the mood by throwing up a hairball, so he preferred to stay in the living room, even if it meant he couldn’t sleep by your feet like he loved to do.

That was fair, Minho supposed. He didn’t feel comfortable having Sir Percival in the room when you were getting intimate, either, so he appreciated the privacy. 

Right now, though, since he had woken up in the middle of the night and hadn’t been able to fall asleep again, he was wondering if he should go out and bring Sir Percival to bed. Maybe his warmth and his purring could help him fall asleep again…

Unlike Minho, you were sleeping soundly next to him, with your back turned to him. If he stood up from this bed he might wake you up, and he didn’t want you to be in his situation… So he settled on focusing on your steady breathing while he waited for sleep to claim him again.

It was just as he was almost asleep again that a minute sound made his body jerk awake. 

It came from you. It was a whimper, barely even audible. But how could he not hear it with his enhanced senses? When you were so close?

It would’ve worried him, had the smell of your arousal not knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

Minho would’ve never imagined his sleepless night would’ve taken him to this intersection, but here he was. He realised he could do one of three things… One, he could ignore the fact that you were right there next to him, presumably having a wet dream… Two, he could wake you up to reenact whatever it was you were dreaming about… Or three, he could use this as an opportunity to indulge in something he hardly ever did…

Since he started a relationship with you, Minho and you had many opportunities to try new things. You were quite open to try any and every seemingly odd activity in the bedroom–be it anal, or role-play, or some light bondage, you were always down to try it. And when Minho brought up his little fantasy of touching you while you were asleep, you’d been more than ecstatic to try it out… To the point where he was sure if he hadn’t brought it up, you would’ve done so eventually.

There was something about the fact that you trusted him enough to let him do things to you while you were unconscious that excited him. Maybe it was a projection of all those nights back then that he’d spent trying not to fantasise about you when you slept together, or maybe it was simply the act itself that he inexplicably enjoyed… Regardless of what it was, your little whimpers had his mind clouding a bit.

Sometimes, before you fell asleep next to each other, you’d turn to him and tell him ‘Maybe I’ll wake up to a surprise tomorrow…’ with that lilt in your voice that just let him know exactly in which way you wanted him to wake you up. That had been the case last night, and Minho had considered doing it a bit later, when the sun was starting to rise at least. But he figured, since you were already having a bit of fun in your dreams, maybe a midnight treat wouldn’t hurt.

Scooting closer to you, his hand found your waist. He held you tight while he pressed his nose to your pulsepoint, right under your jaw. He could hear your blood flowing, your heart rate increasing, and the scent of your excitement had him almost salivating.

Dragging his hand from your waist to your hip, he carefully caressed your body over the fabric of your sleeping gown, just as he pressed his growing erection against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your mouth, but your steady heartbeat let him know you were still pretty much asleep.

Whatever it was you were dreaming about had you shuffling the tiniest bit, enough for your ass to rub against his crotch, and he could already feel a bit of wetness soiling the material of his sleeping shorts. His own fluids, to be precise. It was one of those things that shocked him after he turned, just how much fluid his body could produce. Be it saliva, or sweat, or cum… It was slightly inconvenient, but at the very least, you always seemed to enjoy it, so he supposed it wasn’t so bad.

Minho dragged his hand from where it’d been caressing your hip up your torso, stopping only when he was finally able to cup one of your breasts. He generously fondled and squeezed the flesh, not holding back one bit. If you woke up, you woke up, and if you didn’t, you didn’t. Simple as that.

Dragging the pad of one of his fingers over your stiffening nipple, he relished the way your heartbeat picked up, as well as the way you started to writhe a bit in his hold.

“You’re so soft, baby…” Minho couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck, and you whined, almost like you were reacting to him. And maybe you were. He liked to believe that to be the case.

He pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers, pressing kisses on your neck and grinding his now fully hardened length against your ass. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about, my kitten… Is it me? I hope it’s me…”

Minho was very quiet, but he hoped you could hear him even in your dreams. He figured you might’ve, considering how fast your heart was beating now.

He was genuinely planning on dragging this out for as long as possible, but when you mumbled something akin to his name, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. He removed his hand from your breast after one final hefty squeeze, only to bring that same hand between your bodies. His digits made contact with your entrance, and he couldn’t help but take in a deep breath at just how wet you were.

He wondered how much of it was your own arousal, and how much of it was his own cum that might’ve remained there from when you had sex last night before going to bed. He didn’t come inside often, but when he did, the thought of you having a part of him within your warmth did things to him, it tickled a secluded area of his brain, and it certainly excited him. He supposed it was instinctual. One of those wolf things he hardly ever paid attention to.

Delaying no further, he freed himself out of his sleeping shorts, just enough to drag the tip of his cock up and down your drenched folds. Minho almost got winded when he heard the moan that came out of your mouth in response to his motions. Your lavender scent wrapping around every single one of his nerve-endings enticed him, and he just couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He usually preferred to make sure you were well stretched enough to take him in, but considering you’d been stretched plenty last night, he figured you’d be just fine. And he was proven correct when he finally pushed himself fully within your warmth, when the wetness between yours legs let him slide in with ease.

Minho couldn’t help but groan at the feeling, just as a moan of your own escaped your mouth.

“You’re so warm, baby…”

He pulled his hips back, only to push them forward to start a slow, pleasant rhythm. His hold was tight on your hip, your heart sounded like it was close to leaping out of your chest, and the second your walls clenched on his length, he just knew you’d wake up soon… You’d wake up exactly to what you had wanted.

“Oh–oh, Minho…”

There was no mistaking it anymore, your barely audible moans had slightly increased in tone, and you’d started to push your hips back a bit.

Minho just hummed in response, dragging his hand from your hip to your lower belly. You placed your own hand on top of his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently.

The kisses he left on your neck and the exposed skin of your shoulder seemed to spur you on, the movement of your hips increased in pace, and he just increased his in return. He was mumbling nonsense against your skin, tightening his hold on your interlocked fingers, getting completely lost in the feel of your tight warmth around him.

Before he knew it, you had turned your body a bit, and he had pushed your legs apart to get better access to your heat.

With an arm below you for his hand to hold yours, he took advantage of this position by using his other hand to pull one of your legs over his hip and for his fingers to find their rightful place between your legs.

You just kissed him. You kissed him like you’d die if you didn’t, mumbling words of appreciation of your own between each kiss, broken up by moans and sighs and whimpers with every thrust of his hips and every circle drawn on your clit.

“You’re so good to me”, you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand, moaning so prettily he almost blew then and there.

“And you to me”, he replied simply, picking up his pace, relishing your scent and your warmth and just… you.

Time always seemed to slow down whenever you had sex, especially at these hours of the night, to the point where he could never tell how long it’d been since that first thrust. All Minho could register was how incredibly good he felt, how your heart was thumping fast in your chest, and how hard you were clamping around his cock.

The sounds you made whenever you came undone under his touch and his motions were like music to his ears, they spurred him on, borderline urged him to come himself. And there was certainly hardly anything he would’ve enjoyed more right now than to blow his load while you were still spasming around him, while all you could mumble was his name, while all he could mumble was yours.

Your chest rose and fell with your deep breaths, and while the after effects of his orgasm still clung to every single one of his senses, you pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. Minho immediately melted, holding you tighter and still enjoying the comfort of your inner walls.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he brushed his nose against yours, making you smile and giggle, and you sounded incredibly sleepy even after all that had transpired just minutes ago. He pulled you into his arms, entangling his legs with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Everything was calm around you. The room was barely illuminated by the lampposts outside your windows, and Minho suddenly felt like humming a random song you’d been listening to earlier in the evening… So he did, all as he caressed your hair.

You nuzzled your face further into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight. Right then, Minho figured that every choice he had ever made, that everything that had happened to him, had taken him to this moment, and if that were truly the case, then he honestly wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“Babe?” You mumbled, the sound slightly muffled against the fabric of his vest top.

“Hm?” Minho kept caressing your hair, your back, holding you close and keeping you there.

“I love you”.

He honestly couldn’t help but smile. Of course he knew you loved him. You’d shown him just how much countless times before. Not only throughout your relationship, but way before that… He’d honestly known since that time you hugged him when he had shapeshifted into a wolf the very first time.

“I love you, kitten, baby… So much”.

You pulled away from his chest and looked at him, with a blinding smile on your face. Granted, he could hardly see it in the dark room, but he saw enough. Enough to know just how much you cared. 

But alas, Minho was first and foremost your best friend, and even if he was melting on the inside with your confession, he just had to be annoying about it. “I can’t believe you beat me to say it first, though. I won’t ever forgive you”.

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to your mouth for emphasis. “Here I am? Baring my heart to you? And this is what I get? Fine, I won’t ever forgive you for never forgiving me”.

You were just about to turn away from him, he just knew. So he held you tighter, keeping you in place while he laughed. Your façade crumbled immediately, and you laughed with him, all while he kept pressing kisses on your cheeks.

“Guess I’ll just have to say it as much as possible to get the upper hand”, Minho mumbled against your cheek, just before he started leaving behind an ‘I love you’ after every kiss he pressed on your heated skin.

When your chuckles died down, and he was satisfied with the amount of times he had professed his love, silence enveloped you both once again. Minho simply laid on his back, hugging you close as you laid your head on his chest, right over his heart.

He wasn’t sure if it was the admittance of his feelings, or the hormonal rush of a good fuck, or your lavender scent that seemed to make him delirious sometimes, but, before he knew it, the words were coming out of his mouth with no way to stop them.

“Would you like to move in with me?”

No take-backsies now, he supposed.

You took in a deep breath, but remained silent for a moment.

It was just as Minho was about to panic that you finally spoke. “Do you think Chris would accept Sir Percival into the pack as well? I’m not leaving him behind”.

Minho couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’ll have to. Otherwise I’ll threaten him until he does”.

It was all a bluff… mostly.

Minho would respect any decision Chris took, but if it came to it, he kind of knew that if he laid out why it was important to him to take in both you and Sir Percival, Chris would agree, so he wasn’t particularly worried. Sir Percival already respected Chris, from what Minho knew, so he was almost ninety percent sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

You took in another deep breath, pulling yourself away from Minho’s hug so you could straddle him instead. With your full weight on his body and your hands on his chest, you looked down at him, taking in his features.

“I guess I’ll need to start applying for jobs, then”, you just smiled brightly at him.

Minho held your waist, smiling at you in return right before he pulled you down for a kiss. With you and Sir Percival there at the den, his family would finally be complete, and he felt as if his heart was about to burst at the thought.

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General Masterlist Minho's WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

[idksmtms]

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 1

Full Request

AN: OMGGGG my first request! And it’s an absolute banger too??? I feel like a queen, I truly do. 

I know the original request was more about Marvel-based Norse mythology but I’m not a Marvel fan so I went with original Norse mythology! Hope that’s ok! 

-Also yes, this is a place where we pretend the Hades-Persephone myth isn’t as messed up as it actually is and is a sweet love story instead, fuck off- 

-I know Hestia is supposed to be a virgin goddess and never marry but like… I’m thinking of a cute hearth goddess and how she could love Hephaestus and I want that for them- 

Final PS. that corner pic of Toby Stephens doesn't fit the rest of the aesthetic, I know, but I saw it while searching and it had me quivering so I had to add it.

Summary: Zeus and Odin have brought peace to the worlds of the gods. With peace comes love. But all is NOT fair in love and war. 

Word count: 6,187

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, lusting, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

It was the dawn of a new era when Kronos was thrown to Tartarus. His evil had touched more than just the world of the Greek gods, sending ripples through the very world of mythology itself. Though the worlds of the Norse and the Grecians were thousands of miles away, their gods had often met on the battlefields. A multitude of stories, now lost to time, told of the wars of snow and sand, told of the loves made and broken between viking idols and spartan gods. But upon the ‘death’ of Kronos, the new king of the gods found himself in a forgiving mood. Odin too, having given up so much for wisdom, realised the best way forward was to have peace in all aspects under his control, once and for all. 

The two gods met deep in a forest exactly halfway between what is now Greece and Norway, a forest that eventually became the town of Vlasim in the Czech Republic. No one other than the two kings knows what was said in order for the peace pact to be made, but they left with promises of order, friendship, and an invitation for the Asgardians to visit the stronghold that is Mount Olympus. 

When Zeus returned with this news, they all rejoiced and began ensuring Mount Olympus looked better than it ever had before. After all, they still needed to outshine these other supposed “gods”. Hera took charge of ensuring the entire place glowed, already beginning to argue with Demeter on how the flowers would look best. Aphrodite was already picking out her best dresses and sprucing up her hair, Artemis and Apollo hopping off to go hunting for some creature that would show their true prowess to the Asgardians (secretly hoping they would make it back in time). Dionysus was left in charge of the entertainment, though he was quickly focused only on providing wine for the entire table, and Hephaestus and Hestia found comfort in quiet corners of the room, watching all the chaos unfold. Hades had been unbothered, promising he would show up with Persephone when the Asgardians arrived and nothing more before disappearing in a puff of smoke back to the underworld and no doubt the loving arms of his wife. Poseidon was… well he didn’t know how he felt. If he was honest, he was beginning to feel old. Life as a god wasn’t all it was cut out to be, and it had been dragging a bit recently. His millennia of existence were beginning to catch up to him and he wasn’t sure how to jumpstart his enjoyment again. He had even taken to wearing an older form recently, a man still in his prime, but one with the wisdom of a thousand years subtly showing itself in the lines around his eyes and mouth. A man still corded in muscle but with the stockiness, width, and strength of one who had had one hundred lifetimes to hone it. This seemed like exactly the kind of thing he needed to reintroduce excitement to his life. Though Zeus had not included him in the peace talks, he was happy to be part of the governing that came after, to help maintain the peace between the gods. For once he felt he could happily commend his brother for a job well done. 

And he was excited to meet these new gods, apprehensive too of course, but… excited. It would be a good opportunity to measure themselves up to the others in their world, to truly decide if they were as invincible as they believed they were. Poseidon believed it was important for the gods to have a wake-up call every now and again to their fragility, and he was sure this would be one of them. 

Across the world, in the realm of Asgard and the halls of Valhalla, ale was poured and songs were sung as the gods rejoiced. Odin sat on his throne high above the others as some danced, some fought, some feasted, and some passed out from too much of everything too soon. Odin watched over them all with one of his rare smiles, a hand resting atop the one Frigg had placed on the arm of his throne. Even Loki, occasional friend, occasional enemy, had joined for this celebration. He was proud of what he had achieved, of the worthy sacrifices he had made, to not only bring him eternal wisdom, but to bring peace between two races of gods. Odin turned to Frigg, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She blushed, turning to him and pressing one on his cheek in return. 

“Everything is well?” She asked, caressing his cheek just under the eye he had given up. 

“Perfect,” he sighed, then looked back out to the dancefloor where his children now pranced jokingly.

Thor laughed heartily as he began to chug from his mug, froth spilling over the sides of his cheeks as his friends clapped and cheered. Loki even smiled, though he was more caught up in trying to continue his conversation with the little goddess sandwiched between her brother and him. Odin’s youngest child, the newest addition to Asgard, giggled at her brother’s antics and the clever commentary the god of mischief whispered in her ear. She was still young by the standards of the gods, having only seen a thousand sun cycles, and she was treated as such, cherished by all who looked upon the daughter of Odin, the goddess of love, so loved in fact, that Odin had chosen to bestow his own title of god of war onto her. The goddess of love, and war, Y/n Odinsdottir. 

You were excited for this trip to Mount Olympus. You had been aware of the Greek gods since your birth but you had not had the opportunity of meeting them in battle. Being only a thousand years old meant you had been coddled for five hundred of them, and though you had been given the title of goddess of war, you still felt you had to earn it. Balancing the powers of love and war was a struggle you were still learning. You had spent the last five hundred years trying to choose the right warriors to bestow your blessing upon, the right vikings to give the power of love (the second being especially difficult as you had only felt familial love thus far). This would be an opportunity to learn from these other gods, to not only enjoy a new era of peace but to build on your own skills. 

Odin, Frigg, and Thor enjoyed your excitement, watching with smiles as you pranced about in different dresses wondering which would be the best to wear, brushing out your hair and carefully pinning the dark blue tresses into an updo. Though you often changed the way you looked (shapeshifting came with the job of being a love goddess for all mythologies it seemed), you never changed the blue hair. You had quickly grown fond of it, and the natural movement of hair in that colour reminded you of waves on the ocean, a particular favourite spot of yours. Even past the blue hair, you often wore blue dresses in varying shades, simply because you had come to love the ocean, and thus the colour blue. The other gods often remarked that love was not black nor white, rather it was blue. 

On the eve of the grand meeting of the gods, you had sat beside Loki in a stone alcove high above the feast hall of Valhalla, watching the slain heroes rejoice for another evening. Though it was in Loki’s nature to be a trickster, you had come to enjoy his company and often seeked him out when you were bored or nervous. He knew the history of the gods almost as well as Odin, and you enjoyed the way he told his stories with exaggerated voices and dancing movements. You loved learning about all that had happened before you, all the battles the gods had fought, the relationships they had made, long before you were even a thought in Odin’s head. On a night like this, when you had too much energy to just while away the hours, you found Loki and begged him to tell you a story. You were still young, and possibly your power as a love goddess had an influence too, but he found he could never quite say no to you. 

“Alright, little goddess, settle in, for tonight I tell you a story of love and perilous heartbreak, a story that involves lovers who should never have met, lovers who had no business being together, and who fate punished for it,” Loki began, eyes sparkling as he gazed deep into your own. You shivered and nodded, excitement and just a hint of fear tickling your spine. You sat back against the stone wall and brought your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them and waiting for Loki to begin again. 

“So many years ago that neither you nor I were even a thought in the dust, one of the aesir fell in love with a goddess of another land. Though their names and abilities are lost now, we know that the aesir was one of our strongest, almost indestructible. The goddess was special in her own right, among her own people, and these two great clans warred for many centuries. Years and years were spent slaughtering each other’s families, using human battles as their own, bleeding each other dry until there was barely anything left to call them gods. 

During one such battle, this aesir had broken through the front lines of the opponents, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he laid eyes upon a beautiful goddess helping to heal what she could. He was enamoured by her, so enamoured that for the first time in any battle he was nicked by an arrow.” Loki paused, seeing the way your eyes widened and began to get teary, and he smiled gently. “Do not worry little goddess, it was only a small cut, and he was able to heal, but the true wound was in his heart. He wanted to find this goddess, to be near her, to love her, and yet every day he had to fight her people, without fail. 

One day, he decided to stay back while the others fought, and he snuck over to the other side to try and find his goddess. He disguised himself as a butterfly and fluttered around their camp looking for her. Again, when he found her he was struck dumb by her beauty, and instantly changed into his true form in front of her. She was terrified, and she almost began to yell for help, but he begged her not to. He promised her his life, his very essence as a god, if only she would give him a chance to show her how much he had come to love her. Of course she was apprehensive at first, he was the enemy after all, but she allowed him this. 

The aesir took his knife, cut his palm, and dripped his blood onto the ground. With the first drop, he created a new flower and named it Linnea, for her. With the second, he created a flurry of butterflies that would follow after her wherever she would go, do whatever she wished of them. And with the third, he created a thin gold thread. He took one end of the thread and tied it around his wrist before offering the other to her. He said that if she took it, he would bind himself to her, soul to soul. That if she loved him back, they may be separated, but the gold thread would tie them together forever and wherever they may be, they could always follow it back to one another. The goddess, won over by his utter devotion, accepted his offering and promised to love him back until the end of her days. 

Each night they separated to their own camps, connected only by the gold thread, and each day while the battles and the war raged on, they would sneak away to far off places to be together and live in a happiness their people couldn’t seem to find. But all was not well for the lovers, for the Norns had spun their threads and knew that the price of their love was one no god could ever pay. And so, one day when the lovers snuck off, a god from this other clan who had been promised this goddess’s hand in marriage decided to follow. He saw this ultimate betrayal and sounded the alarm. Both lovers were dragged back to their camps in shackles, the aesir and the other gods unsure of how to punish them. 

The eldest of the aesir knew what must be done. The lovers could never be together, it was simply impossible, and he spoke with the leader of this other clan in a moment of truce. They were both in agreement, and the elder was sent off to complete this task. He ventured to Yggdrasil and found Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld. He had Verðandi remove any memory or thought of the goddess from the aesir’s mind. He had Urðr remove any trace of the goddess from the aesir’s fate. And he had Skuld remove any future with the goddess. 

When this was done, the elder returned to the camp and found the god to see if the Norns had worked true. He had no memory of the goddess, and seemed returned as he was to the aesir. On the other side, the same had happened to the goddess with her own fates, any trace of the god removed from her thoughts, memories, fate and future. Everyone thought all was well and normalcy had returned, but both god and goddess felt the eternal tug of a gold thread wrapped around their wrist that no one but them could see. Both attempted to follow it but it seemed to never have an end. They would stand in front of each other, and look straight through the other, never able to see one another again. Forever they were cursed to wonder why they were pulled toward something they could not see, something they would never be able to find.” Loki finished with a sigh, looking at you as you sat curled up against the wall opposite him. You were frowning, tears collected at the corners of your eyes and lip trembling. 

“I didn’t like that story,” you mumbled, shaking your head and wiping at your eyes. “What was so wrong with them loving each other?” 

“Little goddess, we are terrified of the things we don’t understand. We don’t understand love, we don’t understand why it evades us but not those we hate. We don’t understand why it makes us love those we do not want to love.” Loki began to stand, brushing off his legs and shirt with a shrug. 

“Then… then none of you understand me. You are all terrified of me. I am the goddess of love, am I not?” You asked, looking up at him with fearful eyes. But Loki just smiled and patted your head. 

“You help us understand love, little goddess. That is why we need you, because without you, we would all be even more lost. Imagine that,” he smirked and chuckled, then walked away, mumbling something about readying for the journey to Olympus. 

When the Norse gods began to arrive on Olympus, the Vanir entering first, the gathered horde of Greek gods and goddesses and spirits began to mumble and talk among themselves as they judged the foreigners that now walked among them. The Grecians felt their dressing was superior, their peplos were so white that they would burn the eyes of a human. The gold edging was pure and shined as if it was freshly polished and not thread. The purple cloaks they all donned would bankrupt every village in the human world just to get enough dye to make it look that bright. They were… amused? Intrigued? Maybe even disgusted by the fashion of their guests. They all wore varying shades of red. They had either thin linen garments with animal furs draped across their shoulders and arms, or donned thick tunics of sheepskin and wool pants with leather belts decorated with axes and swords. Both groups were… apprehensive to mingle. 

Zeus and Hera sat on their thrones and looked down on their guests, nodding greetings as they watched for Odin and Frigg. Poseidon and Hades sat on their own thrones to the side of their brother. Hades was turned to the side and conversing solely with Persephone who stood just behind his throne, leaning onto it and smiling down at her husband. Poseidon just sat back and watched the gods enter the grand hall, resting his chin on his hand and trying not to yawn with boredom. 

The entrance of Odin and Frigg could not be missed. As they crossed the bridge into Mount Olympus, they were surrounded by the Aesir. Odin held Frigg’s hand, both dressed in traditional Viking fashion. Frigg wore a modest woollen strap dress in a shade of red so deep it looked like she had bathed in blood. Her grey eyes were smudged with black on the lids and her hair was braided on both sides and tied back, resting on a black fur stole draped over her shoulders. Odin was dressed completely in black, from his eyepatch to his tunic and sheepskin pants. But his cloak was of the pure white fur of a bear, the edges dragging on the ground behind him. 

Thor followed behind his father, dressed as a common viking, but with Mjolnir dangling from his wrist, shiny and almost glowing. Baldr walked beside him, a simple white tunic and black pants comprising his outfit. But it was his hair that was the talk of the audience, so pale and white that it seemed to glow itself. He was a handsome creature, youthful and majestic, with a muscular body and a gentle smile. The muses began to giggle as they watched him walk past. 

It was after Thor and Baldr had separated to stand beside their father and mother, that little gasps and whispers began to pervade the air. Behind them had walked Odin’s youngest child, wearing a dress of blue that draped over your body like water. It looked like it had been made of the thinnest netting all gathered and crushed together then draped over your body in the fashion of the Greeks. The fabric was so light near the top that it looked like the very froth of a wave, and darkened as it flared out behind you, the hem almost as black as the deepest trenches of the sea. Like your mother and father, you had draped a fur over your shoulders, hoping to appease your people. You had wanted to blend in with the Greeks, had wanted them to feel respected (you were entering their home after all) but you still wanted to look like a viking. 

The Aesir walked forward as Zeus stood from his throne, followed slowly by his brothers and Hera. He smiled at the approaching group, waiting until they were just in front of the thrones before speaking. 

“Welcome, all, to Mount Olympus,” his voice boomed, and a small flutter of claps sounded from around the crowd. “Thank you for joining us, and for ensuring peace between our peoples for the rest of our eternity,” he smiled, and Odin bowed his head in thanks, letting go of Frigg’s hand to hold both of his own in front of himself. “Please, converse, rest, enjoy the sights of Olympus and partake in the refreshments,” Zeus gestured his arms to the tables of ambrosia that stretched so far that even the gods lost sight of their ends. With that, he sat back on his throne, and waited for Odin and Frigg to approach. 

Hades took the opportunity to grab Persephone’s hand and try to slink off but the goddess just chided him and forced him to sit back in his throne as she went to see her mother. Hel chose this moment to approach him and the two began a stilted conversation about their individual worlds of death. Hephaestus and Hestia, who had taken up to joining together in situations of unfamiliarity, sat together in the corner, whispering among themselves. Apollo found company in Bragi, though both instantly began speaking in verse to try and prove who was the better poet. 

Artemis, Ares, and Athena had crowded Thor and Tyr and were all in different positions of trying to look dangerous, unamused, and intrigued at the same time. Aphrodite had pounced on Baldr, but found competition in the muses who had already made their way to surround him, and soon found herself flirting with Freyr. Hermes and Loki too had found delightful conversation with one another, full of ideas of thievery and trickery. 

And Poseidon was… enamoured. Since the moment he had laid eyes on you he had not taken them away. He had slowly sat back down in his chair, worried that if he stayed standing his knees may give out. You made a god weak. You were beautiful, ethereal, magical, beyond anything even the gods could think to conjure. And your dress… oh that dress, had you chosen it for him? Had you arrived with a mind to capture his very essence? Because it started with that dress. You looked the very soul of water, the very thing that made a world impossible without it. Your hair, your luscious hair, so blue that it reminded him of his palace, of the places deepest in the sea where he felt truly at peace. And the small smile on your face as you meandered between the different groups of gods conversing, slightly shy of your place, but not unhappy. It was the smile of a fresh pearl, one that shined under even the dimmest of lights. 

Poseidon watched you walk about, not entering any conversation but not shying away from listening to the others speak. Your pretty face never once dipped into a frown, and he felt like he would never truly catch his breath if he could see you in his line of vision. It took every bit of his godly power to force his eyes away, and he was both angered and thankful when some god (who seemed to be the only one who looked as old as he probably was) walked up to his throne and began conversing about fish. 

You were so happy that Njord had listened to your little prompt to go speak to the god of the seas, because it meant he finally pulled his eyes away from you, and you could begin to watch him in return. He had been the first of the thrones you had looked at, and the only one you truly cared about now. His eyes were such a dark blue that they reminded you of the ocean, of your favourite place in the ocean in fact, and they seemed so… knowing, as if one look at another told him everything he needed to know about them. His form was majestic, stoic and strong, with broad shoulders and thick arms that made you desire something you had never desired before. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted him to wrap those arms around you, to run your fingers over those arms. Were you bewitched? Were you cursed? Even his hair made you feel desire, those beautiful locks of hair that resembled celestial bronze, neat yet still unrestrained with a particularly unruly strand falling onto his forehead. You wanted to run your fingers through that hair, to feel if it was truly as soft as you imagined, to press your nose into it and inhale the slightly salty scent that surely clung to him, that you had come to love as much as the sight of the ocean itself. You wanted to feel his beard on your cheeks, under your palms, to know if the white hairs that threaded through it were any coarser than the others, to know what it felt like to have a man’s face in the palms of your hands. Your entire being felt as if it was on fire, and the more you stared at him, at the slight signs of age that showed themselves in the lines by his eyes and mouth, the more you felt it burn inside you. 

Someone cleared their throat to your right and you gasped, whirling on them as a blush branded itself on your cheeks, as if your body wanted to betray your thoughts. You smiled, hoping to cover up whatever embarrassment may have shown on your face, and gazed at the god before you. He was about your height, if not a little taller, with a grin that reminded you of Loki’s. His hair was black and combed back smoothly in a rather regal fashion. His eyes were black too, you noticed, so black that you couldn’t differentiate the pupil from the iris. You smiled brightly at him, bowing your head in greeting when you noticed the little wings that protruded from his shoes. 

“My goodness! Your shoes!” You exclaimed, gasping and pointing at them with a delighted little laugh. 

“Yes,” he laughed along, “they help me travel quickly when I am tired, though they do often have a mind of their own,” he joked, and you laughed loudly. He had a sweet voice, one that would sound happy even when he was sad. “I am Hermes, son of Zeus, what is your name?” His eyes were sparkling and you found you enjoyed it. 

“I am Y/n of the Aesir, goddess of love and war,” you introduced yourself, holding out your hand to him. Hermes held it as if it were a precious gift and pressed his lips to your knuckles. You had never felt so regal. 

“Ah, yes, Odin’s youngest, I have heard of your prowess on the battlefield.” Hermes was surely a charmer, you thought, and you smiled brightly, a tinge of pink to your cheeks. 

“You flatter me, I am still unproven as a goddess of war, though I suppose I do plan a strategy well,” you smiled cheekily, shrugging nonchalantly and holding your hands behind your back as you swayed girlishly. 

If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your ability to fight. It was the reason your father had given you this title, your cunning ability to break down your opponents in all sorts of ways, to plan out a fight before it had even begun. Simply put, you were good at it, you could defeat Tyr with ease now, and even Thor had become no challenge. While you still struggled with the love side of your godly abilities and duties, you could always rely on your fighting. 

“What about you, Hermes? What are you the god of?” You asked, tilting your head in question. 

“Many things, trade, luck, travel, and thieves,” he answered breezily, though his smile betrayed his pride. “I am the herald of our pantheon, the messenger of the gods.” 

“Well you are very important then, for where would we be without our messengers?” You told him sweetly, and all he could do was nod. His chest filled with warmth and he knew he had to be careful or the affection that now bubbled inside of him would erupt from his mouth. 

“You are wise as you are sweet,” he simply replied, and you just smiled brightly before turning to face the group and stepping slightly closer to his side. 

“You remind me of Loki, though he is not a brother, I see him as such,” you told him, and a small pang hit him in the stomach. You had already passed him off as a brother it seemed. But Hermes just shook his head to himself and smiled at you again, leading you toward a display of flowers just to the side that was one of Demeter’s favoured experimental projects. He was tenacious, if nothing else, and he would eventually get you to enjoy his company as something more. 

Poseidon had ended up enjoying his conversation with Njord (who was surprisingly intelligent and rather engaging when conversing about fish) but when the god had left him he instantly began to look around for you. Any good mood was squashed when he saw you walking off arm in arm with Hermes, and a thunderous look settled across his face. Somewhere on earth a storm began to brew. Luckily, you didn’t walk far, and he was able to watch over you from his throne, though his mood had already soured, and continued to sour the longer you stayed attached to Hermes’ arm. 

Hades, who had finally rid himself of Hel’s company, Hestia and Hephaestus from their corner, and even Dionysus from his seat at the ambrosia table with a jug of wine bigger than his head watched Poseidon. He was acting rather odd, and they could all now see why. His eyes had not left the girl-goddess since she had arrived, and he was miserably failing if he was attempting to be subtle. They had noticed the goddess watching him in return, the pink tint on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eye, and a teasing giggle seemed to build in all those watching. How poignant for Poseidon to fall for the goddess dressed like the sea. Hades stood from his throne and made his way to his brother, sitting on the arm of his throne and smirking at him.

“I will admit, brother, that she is beautiful,” he told Poseidon quietly. The god of the sea snapped his head to his brother, and scowled. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he answered simply, but Hades just laughed, patting Poseidon on the shoulder. 

“Oh brother, you truly do not understand the art of subtlety, do you?” Hades raised an eyebrow and Poseidon stared at him bewildered. “You have watched that one since she arrived and done nothing but that. And goodness, the way you watch her! Have you never seen a woman?” Poseidon shrugged his brother’s hand off of his shoulders and had the decency to look slightly sheepish. He had assumed no one would notice. Hades noted the slight shame in his brother’s expression and sighed, smiling gently. 

“Do not worry, I will tell no one, though I may not have anything to tell as she does seem to be enjoying Hermes’ company,” he added teasingly, and Poseidon growled at his brother’s back. 

He was distracted by a commotion that had arisen near where Hermes and the goddess had stood. Now a group had gathered around them, fluttering with whispers, and he was too curious not to know what was going on. He walked swiftly from the throne, standing just behind some of the minor gods in the group and peering over their heads. 

“So you are a goddess of war, your brother has said?” Ares asked, hands on his hips as he stared down at you. You smiled up at him, nodding your head. 

“The goddess of war and love,” you told him. Athena and Aphrodite, both stood just behind Ares with their arms crossed over their chests scoffed. 

“A goddess of war and love? Must not be good at either,” Aphrodite murmured, voice snarky and loud enough to be heard by everyone. Athena smirked, hiding a chuckle behind her hand. You frowned at this, looking toward the two goddesses, but Ares just moved so you would be forced to continue staring at him.  

“She is a guest, do not be rude,” Hermes spat, but Ares and Aphrodite just waved their hands in twin moves of dismissal. 

“I am the god of war, she is the goddess of love, we have the right to ask questions of a guest who resembles us so closely,” Ares smirked at Hermes, but he was quick to return his gaze to you. His eyes were like fire, hungry and angry, ready to burn whatever he looked at. 

“So, what exactly do you do? Do you make enemies fall in love and end wars?” Aphrodite snarked, tilting her head and staring at you like you were just something annoying that had flown into her path. 

Poseidon wanted to intervene. He was desperate to come to your defence, to have the waters flood Olympus and drown each of them until they were nothing but salt in the sea. But before he could step forward to your aid, he saw the subtle changes in you. He saw the way your eyes hardened, any trace of the happiness and gentleness with which you had treated everyone thus far disappearing. He saw your back straighten just a tad more, your shoulders pushing back and your balance shifting just slightly forward onto the balls of your feet. You clenched your teeth together for a moment before relaxing your jaw and looking up at Ares. 

“Would you like to fight me?” You asked simply, folding your hands in front of you. Ares began to laugh, a deep guffawing laugh that had him bending backward and puffing it into the sky. Aphrodite tittered, pressing her fingers to her mouth and turning to the side as her laugh tinkled into the air. Even Athena smirked, though she didn’t say anything nor laugh, just a widening of her lips and a slight disbelief at your stupidity in her eyes. “Is there a problem?” 

“You have just asked to fight a REAL god of war, child, what am I to do other than laugh?” He replied, throwing his arms out and gazing at the crowd. 

“Careful, brother,” Hermes spat, but you just placed a hand on his arm, stoic expression not changing. 

“You could fight me,” you answered simply, beginning to tie your hair back. “Unless you do not believe in yourself, REAL god of war?” 

Ares snarled, baring his teeth at you before stepping back and throwing off his purple sash. It would only be a hindrance to his fighting ability. You smiled, broad and bright, and a longsword appeared in your hand. A glorious weapon, with a handle of white bone carved from a broken fang of Fenrir. The blade was black like onyx, but fashioned from the strongest metal the dwarves could find and forge in Nidavellir. It was your favourite. You spun it in your hand lazily, inspecting it for a moment before turning to look back at Ares. Your eyes flashed blue, so quickly that if anyone had blinked they would have missed it. Then, with a smile so gentle you seemed you could never hurt a fly, you attacked. 

It took you no more than five minutes to have Ares on the floor, your sword pointed at his throat. You were swift like wind, clanging your sword against his before twisting around him and kicking the back of his knee and then the other to flip him over as he fell. Not a hair out of place, you smiled down at him, pressing the point just a little into the skin of his throat before pulling it away completely and sending it back to Asgard. Ares stared up at you with eyes so wide you thought they would pop out of his head. He was winded, puffing on the floor as he tried to figure out where he was, what had just happened. 

“How did you…” Hermes stared at you, mouth wide open. 

“I told you! I’m good at strategy. He is cocky, and he underestimated me. He believed I was being cocky, and thought that when I saw him with his sword I would be apprehensive. He did not expect a swift beginning attack, nor did he believe I would risk trying to go for an obvious place like the back of the knees. To know your opponent is to be able to defeat them. Simple.” You smiled at Hermes, shrugging and turning away from the crowd to venture around the flower display and find one you hadn’t seen yet. 

Ares sat up, Aphrodite gulped, and Athena turned away, walking off. The entire group began to whisper about what they had just witnessed, the story spreading to all the gods and spirits quicker than a wildfire. They slowly dispersed, leaving Ares on the floor with Aphrodite gently patting his shoulder in a sad attempt at comfort (which he shoved off as he stood and stormed away). 

Poseidon watched all this and waited until he had walked back to his throne to let himself smile. He leaned back and replayed the fight in his mind, chuckling at the way you had stomped on the back of Ares’ knee with your delicate shoes. Oh he was absolutely enthralled by this goddess, and he didn’t even know your name yet…

Taglist: @josxkl1m

[sparklecarehospital]

been reflecting on my year a bit, and i was thinking about something. i think i know what the best thing i did for myself this year was.

making cometcare public. making the ask blog.

ive had this AU stirring in my brain since 2019, ever since i got really attached to doomi during the haunted arc. one reason i went so long without revealing pollarrydoomi as a ship to readers was because doom's crush wasn't public information until late 2021.

i had kept his crush a mystery for 3 years, but revealed it after a fun experience where people figured out who it was through guessing. i'm pretty sure i did a poll about it? asking people to guess who they thought it was, and uni won the vote, meaning everyone had already figured it out.

after pollarrydoomi was revealed and i started drawing art for it and people made fanart for it, i still couldn't post any of my AU art because ally wasn't public and she and howie were in the AU. in july 2022, for the comic's birthday, i revealed ally as a character to the readers. others around the time had started to notice characters i had in pfps and i ended up telling everyone i did have pollarrydoomi ship kids, but i didn't make them public.

in november 2022, i revealed eve on toyhouse. after her reveal, i would soon reveal sly as well in december 2022 on my birthday (revealing sly as a birthday present to myself is such a funny gesture now that you guys know how important he is to me). over the next few weeks i revealed cream, frosty, and marco as well. all of the main cometkids except chem.

then one day someone out there suggested that i make an ask blog for the cometcare AU. it was such a spontaneous decision, and i didn't even really know what i was gonna do with it at first. i was just kinda messing around. but when i made the blog i realized that if i wanted this AU to be experienced in complete authenticity, i couldn't make uni cis.

so i revealed uni being trans through the blog, despite the fact i'd gone so many years without ever revealing her identity. why did i do it? there's a lot of reasons. not wanting to make her a "dad" in the AU contributed, but also i felt like it wouldn't be detrimental to the story to confirm a character being trans. it also made me (and the crew in general) a lot more comfortable being able to properly refer to uni with her actual pronouns.

making the ask blog really changed me, because finally i could share this little family and comfort story i'd built in my brain with the world and make it real and make content for it and let people consume it.

but what stopped me most of all?

i've said it many times before... but i felt like it was cringey.

i felt like making an AU with 93985893844 fankids in a ridiculous complicated polycule wasn't something a Serious content creator should do, and i was really worried the reception would be negative or people would think it was stupid or something. i did NOT expect it to become as popular as it is. the blog actually has more followers than the MAIN ASK BLOG for the canon comic. it was received SO POSITIVELY and the fact it was just kind of blows me away.

it means so much to me. being able to share the most special thing in my life with people and for people to actually like it and have fun with me and want to see it, and for me to be able to not have to follow strict professionalism about spoilers and chronological storytelling, and being able to change and add in things whenever i felt like it. it's such a freeing experience.

when i was a kid, i used to make stories and OCs and i didn't take them as seriously as i do the sparklecare reboot. this kind of turned into my entire life and career kinda, so i had to take it more seriously. but making this AU honestly just makes me feel like i'm a kid again, it makes me feel like i can have fun and literally do whatever the fuck i want without worrying what people think or if it's realistic or if it makes any sense.

i know though, that some people don't like pollarrydoomi. and i know why. whether it's because of being attached to barruni (of course, they're the canon ship and main characters, i get it) or just having discomfort with the idea of shipping doom with anyone when canonically he hasn't experienced a redemption arc... i get it. i know not everyone likes it.

and that's okay! people are entitled to having their own feelings about content. i understand it. and i've come to accept that's always going to be the case with anything i do with these characters.

but i'm still going to do this for myself. i do this because it makes me happy to just have fun and not worry about being serious all the time. it feels good, especially when it's with characters that are really really important to me.

cometcare is genuinely the most special and important thing i've ever made for myself, it's such a huge piece of my identity and it makes me who i am. and being able to make this story public and share it with people and share these things that have been in my brain for so long with others means so much to me.

that's why i think it was the best thing i've done this year. it's kind of literally changed my life to be able to talk about them. it's made me happier than i've ever been making content. i'm not just making it to entertain myself alone anymore, i'm making it to entertain others like i do with other stuff. and the fact people actually like it still is unbelievable to me.

so, i guess my outlook for next year as it comes is to continue to stop taking everything so seriously. i can tell my stories however i want to. i hope others can realize they can do this too.

please make whatever you want, whenever you what, as much as you want, even if it doesn't make sense or if it's "cringe". you will be so much happier when you realize as a creator you DON'T have to take all of this so seriously. the comic still exists and people read it even if i'm doing this. You Can Do Whatever You Want And Nobody Can Ever Stop You. the only person who can stop you is yourself when you let your inhibitions get in the way of your ability to create things for yourself.

have fun! life is too short to take everything you do seriously

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

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

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[casual-socks]

HI IVE BEEN MASSIVELY HYPERFIXATED ON TMA FOR ABOUT A YEAR AND IVE SEEN MAYBE ONE (1) SINGULAR PERSON TALK ABOUT THIS and i am not even kidding when i say its been a passionate topic of conversation for that entire year. people know me for this. it comes up and my entire friend group SIGHS AUDIBLY because they know the 20 minute tangent i Will be taking

WHATTTTT IS GOING ON WITH GERARD KEAYS NAME. what. what???? okay i

youre telling me jonathan sims went to oxford college (relatively prestigious if my memory serves me correctly) for RESEARCH. for, to put it simply, READING. and he looks at the name gerard and goes Yeah looks like jared to me lets go with that!!! HELLO?? NO?? not even mentioning the fact that he is being what could easily be called possesed when reading these statements which leaves us with two options

1. the ENTIRETY OF ENGLAND CANNOT PRONOUNCE THE NAME GERARD.

2. jonathan sims is so monumentally stupid that he is somehow breaking this possesion for the 2 seconds it takes to say the name gerard (i love him i swear i will sound so so hateful for this entire post but its out of love)

and like??? its not even that EVERYONE is calling him jared? elias and gertrude have both called him gerard and thats just off the top of my head. i also think jon said it correctly ONEEEE SINGULAR TIME. Just the once.

now i feel it necessary to mention jared hopworth here as well. because why, why on gods green earth, would you name a character gerard. pronounce it jared. TURN AROUND AND GO. lets make another jared but this ones made out of meat and is sort of implied to not be too fond of gay people. Yeah he steals peoples bones. Yeah.

SO LIKE GERARD KEAY IS THE OBJECTIVELY SUPERIOR JARED EXCEPT HES NOT JARED HIS NAME IS LITERALLY GERARD?? FUCK YOU SO MUCH

so okay. sure whatever this podcast is sooo british that a bunch of people are just completely failing to pronounce gerard. sure. whatever you say.

GERRY?????? HIS FUCKING NICKNAME IS GERRY???????????? NO!!!!

NO. no. LOOK ME IN MY EYES. LOOK AT THE NAME GERARD. GER-ARD. AND YOURE TELLING ME YOURE GONNA CALL HIM JARED. SND THEN YOURE GONNA CALL HIM GERRY WITH A G???? gerry with a g. that is utterly ridiculous i cannot even believe this that is monumentally frustrating i cannot even begin to describe to you all the anger i have experienced over this particular bit because why on earth would you take that particular extra step??? gerard -> gerry. sure. thin ice, but sure. jared -> jerry. sure! yeah! makes sense! GERARD -> JARED -> GERRY? you must be playing some sick joke jonny sims. seriously. you are a cruel and usual man

now this is when i start to wind down, but far from where i finish. lets take a moment to really pause and soak in his actual name here.

gerard.

that is so unfortunate already i mean really, gerard is such a…. a name…. i mean his mom skins people and puts them in books and the cruelest thing i think she ever couldve done is honest to god name her son gerard.

keay.

now dont get me wrong. theres nothing seriously wrong with spelling it keay on principle. but god, really? youre gonna shove all this gerard gerry jared business in front of me and tell me his last name is just key but gone the extra mile. really feels like the cherry on top of a shit cake.

now if you consider gerards character i truly feel as though thats the deepest disservice here. gerard keay is an incredible character whos short appearance is so memorable and charming, and despite his VERY little screen time he still has an intriguing and well fleshed out character. really, gerard keay is so excellent character wise. But, every time i think about him for any more than 5 minutes, almost this exact rant is being told to whoever is unfortunate enough to be near me at the time.

another thing i think also really adds to this is just the nature of gerard keay. everything you can say about that guy could be ended with “and everone calls him jared for some reason”. hes emo and everyone calls him jared for some reason. his hair dye job is so miserable that EVERYONE mentions it and everyone calls him jared for some reason. he has mommy issues and everyone calls him jared for some reason.

okay i need to wrap this up before i start just repeating WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY for thousands of words but heres a graph i made for my friends in october 2022 when i was going on about this in the middle of my spanish class 👍👍

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 5

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: More smutty smut, just add water 😜

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 4

Our chests continue to heave in search of oxygen as we crumple to the mussed sheets before I hear her voice in the otherwise quiet and dimly lit room.

“I’ve heard the phrase, “eating pussy like a man starved” but fuck that doesn’t begin to describe what you do. I thought that was just meant for fictional book characters.” I chuckle loudly and pull her against me before giving her a small pat on the ass.

“Sugar, there’s a reason my nickname was CC. Captain Cunnilingus at your service ma’am.” I pretend to tip my invisible hat at her.

“Austin Grant Syverson! You cannot be serious. Please tell me you just made that up.” She says sternly but with a shocked smile as she leans up on her elbows. I arch an eyebrow in confusion.

“Nah, darlin’. It was that or Captain BDE. I heard that one from one of my guys which was a little awkward. Also, my middle name isn’t Grant?”

“I didn’t know your middle name so I made one up. That situation called for a full name in order to properly chastise you like a good southern woman should.” She says with sass and I laugh even louder.

“Well, you’re certainly a good southern woman. My middle name is Daniel in case you need to scold me again in the future.” I smirk at her.

“I have a feeling I just might need too, Austin Daniel Syverson. Oh, I like that.” She says while shaking her head at me with a grin.

“You’re not going to tell me yours? I think it’s only fair.” I probe her for information as I intertwine our fingers together. She begins to play with our hands.

“It’s Kathryn. My grandmother’s name. She went by Kate. When I was little everyone called me Emma Kate, mostly at my grandmother’s insistence, but as I got older it just sounded more professional to shorten it to just Emma. In fact, everyone back home with the exception of my parents calls me EmKay. That nickname started with middle school cheerleading and just sorta stuck.”

“Mmm I like that. It fits you. Now EmKay, are you going to get in the bathtub with me?”

She nods enthusiastically and squeals when I lift her off of the bed and haul her into the bathroom to deposit her on the toilet and start filling the bathtub with water.

“Don’t want a UTI to slow us down.” I told her and she looked shocked.

“Um, I am not going to pee in front of you.”

“Darlin’, I just got you to squirt all over my face and drank it up like I was starved, so you said.” I wink at her. “My dick was literally just inside of you and now I’m standing here in front of you as naked as the day I was born. I think we are past all the shyness, aren’t we?” She shrugs but keeps biting at her lip while staring at me.

“Alright, go pee and I’ll be right back.” I tell her with a small laugh and exit the bathroom to give her some privacy. I hear the toilet flush and come back in while she’s washing her hands still naked in front of the mirrors.

“You didn’t tell me I look so crazy. Even more so with all of these hickeys.” She said trying to calm her sex-mussed hair and wipe off the bits of mascara that had ran from her eyes. She pulled a ponytail holder from her wrist and gathered her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head.

“You look perfect. I love the way you look, especially since I did it to you.” I whisper against her exposed neck as I wrap my arms around her waist and appreciate the hickeys that I left on her breasts and tummy. Before she can say anything else I kiss her forehead and throw some bubble bath into the tub.

“I didn’t take you as the type of man who took a lot of bubble baths.” She said with a shy smile.

“I honestly didn’t until I injured my leg. My physical therapist made me start a few years ago to relax the muscles after a strenuous work out or physical therapy session. I always feel like I’m marinating in body juice soup but it does wonders for sore muscles.” I chuckle and turn the faucet off.

“I’ve never thought about the body juice soup thing. It kinda is, isn’t it? Gross.” She giggles as I help her step into the tub. I step in behind her and settle her against my chest.

“Yeah, I would get in right after a workout and then shower immediately after the bath just so I could actually feel clean.”

“Mmm. That sounds good.” She said as she leaned further back against me with her eyes closed either content or exhaustion taking over her features.

“If I had a clawfoot tub like this, I don’t know that I would ever get out of it. My house just has those shower tub combos and I can’t get the water deep enough. It’s not relaxing.” She says and I smile.

“Well, you’re always welcome to use this one darlin’. I can get some candles and music and set you up in here whenever you’d like.”

“Any reason to get me here naked huh? Now you may not get rid of me.” She jokes.

“Good, I wouldn’t want too. You being here naked is my new favorite thing.” I kiss her temple and decide to go for it. I may regret this.

“What have ya got going on this weekend? Wanna stay tonight?” I ask hesitantly while praying to God I don’t have a nightmare in her presence.

“Do you want me too?” She asks genuinely.

“Of course, I do, sugar. I thought that much was obvious. Unless you don’t want too.” I respond. Maybe she’s worried about sleeping next to me.

“I wasn’t sure. I just thought you were really good with aftercare and then were going to send me on my way.” She giggles with a gentle elbow to my side. “I’d love to stay the night! I have nothing planned tomorrow. I need to get some groceries and meal prep for the week on Sunday, since I usually bring lunch from home but I just figured I'd be lazy the rest of the weekend.”

“Good, let’s be lazy together.” I tell her relieved that she didn’t want to leave, but still nervous as hell and questioning if I should have just taken her home on the off chance I do have another nightmare. I was grateful that she couldn’t see my face as I battled an internal war on whether or not this was a bad decision. Emma threads our hands together and begins playing with my fingers. Her hands look so tiny against my own.

“Why are you single?” She asks out of the blue.

“Why are you? I mean I know you had that loser ex, but why didn’t you find someone else after that? Likely have your pick out of anyone.”

“You’re deflecting.” She responds quickly. “And that’s not true. I guess I’m a little damaged after everything happened with Colin. It all only happened about six months ago. I was lucky that my lease was coming up for renewal. Colin and I had talked about looking for a house. He even took me to look at one. I found out a few months later that his mistress lived down the road from the house we looked at. Guess he was looking for an easier commute to her.” She laughs without humor. “Anyway, I guess I just wonder why you haven’t been snatched up already. You’re pretty amazing, and not just in the bedroom.”

“Colin sounds like a real piece of work. Seems like ya dodged a bullet with that one. And I ain’t deflectin’.” I frown. “Similar to what you said, I’m damaged too. Military fucked me up and I got cheated on two times along the way while deployed. They each said they would wait but found something better while waiting. After that, I guess I just realized I didn’t want to feel like I was settlin’ just so I could have someone. It wasn’t fair to either of us. I was gone all of the time and couldn’t be a present partner and they shouldn't have to always be alone wondering whether I'm still alive. Figured I was better off alone where I know what to expect of my life.”

“Austin, I know you spent almost twenty years in the military, but you don’t talk about it a lot.”

I tense slightly and she catches it. “Yeah, I guess it’s just hard to talk about. Don’t need to bring anybody else down with all of the bullshit in my head is all.”

She turns slightly in my arms and looks up at me genuinely. “I won’t ever force you to tell me details about it, but when and if you’re ever ready to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.” Emma says as she strokes the fur on my jaw.

“Means a lot to me, darlin’.” I say before pulling her in tightly and kissing her forehead.

“Have you ever confided in anyone about it?”

“Eh, there’s a therapist they set me up with at the VA. I have sessions with her every so often.”

“Good. I just don’t want you to bottle things up.” I release a heavy sigh. She’s an intuitive little thing. Bottling things up and pushing them down are my M.O. I just nod at her.

Signaling that she was not going to push the conversation, Emma leaned back further against me as I feel her body relax against mine.

“Sugar, there is one thing you should probably know.” She leans up slightly and looks for me to continue.

“Every once in a while, I have nightmares, ya’ know, PTSD stuff from war. Usually, I wake myself up and it’s no big deal but, in the past, there have been a few times where I’ve had active flashbacks that are hard to wake up from. I haven’t had one in several months but I just thought you should know before we go to sleep tonight. It would just absolutely kill me if I scared you.”

“Should I try to wake you if that happens?”

“No, just uh, fuck.” I wipe my hand over my face in frustration. She’s probably already thinking about how to get the hell out of here. “Just uh, stay back from me and talk to me like I’m still active army. Explain that there is not a threat and the others are reporting back to base to reconvene and let Aika in if she’s not in the bedroom. She’ll help.” Emma begins to nod before I speak again.

“I’m sorry, I’ve probably freaked you out. I can take you back to yours. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I uh, I’m a little fucked up.” I look down at my fist as I clutch it tighter in frustration. Emma quickly turns around in the tub, sloshing the water around, and straddles my lap as she puts one arm on my shoulder and the other on my cheek. She stares into my eyes like she’s reaching straight into my soul. I am fighting the urge to run, and get away from her scrutiny but I remain in place.

“Baby, shh.” She says and I realize my whole body is tensed up.

“Relax, and take a breath. I’m not afraid or uncomfortable. I’m actually relieved you felt comfortable telling me. If you have a flashback, I’ll do my best to talk you through it calmly and get Aika." She shrugs as if we are talking about something mundane like what we are going to get from the store. "I can do that, okay?”

My jaw is aching from how tightly I am clenching it before Emma guides my head against her chest using her breasts almost like a pillow. I listen to her steady heartbeat and my head is gently guided up and down by her calm breathing. God, she’s a breath of fresh air. This is the definition of a safe space. A happy memory to refer to when panicking. I should make a mental note to bookmark this moment as my future safe space. Here naked in the bathtub, our hot skin crushed together as my cheek presses against the chest of the most amazing woman after the first time we were intimate. Definitely my happy place.

“Please don’t overthink this. I want to be here with you.” She says softly and I notice that my whole body has finally relaxed against her. Her nails are barely running across the skin of my scalp through my buzzcut as she has me cradled to her chest. I close my eyes as I release my clenched fists and begin to softly stroke up and down her back. I clear my throat slightly as I’ve choked up from my emotions a bit.

“Alright, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Thank you for letting me stay.” She says and kisses me tenderly.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I have been thoroughly fucked to the point of exhaustion and our body juice soup is starting to get cold.” She teases.

“Thoroughly fucked to the point of exhaustion?” I smirk at her. How did she manage to pull me out of a funk like that so easily? She's incredible.

“As if you weren’t well aware of that fact, you cocky little shit!” She giggles.

“Ain’t nothing little about me, Sugar.” I smirk while swatting her behind.

“That’s for damn sure.” She whispers before climbing off of me. I’m already hard as a rock again from having her straddling me while talking about how fucked out she is.

She smiles and shamelessly stands above me with water droplets trail down her skin before she steps out of the tub and walks over to the shower and turns it on. I pull the drain on the tub and follow her like a lost puppy. I step in the shower cubicle where she’s waiting on the water to warm and scoop her up and place us both under the freezing water.

“Oh fuck, Austin! That’s freezing!” She screams and playfully smacks at my arms around her.

“Let me warm you up again, darlin’.” I grunt before pulling her into a consuming and carnal kiss.

The water begins to warm against our bodies and steam quickly fogs the glass walls. Emma’s hands are roaming all over my body as my own are grabbing the meat of her ass and pulling her closer to me. To my surprise, Emma pushes for me to sit on the shower bench and straddles my thighs with a filthy kiss.

“Mmm, you’re such a man, Austin.” She says between sloppy kisses.

“Thank you?” I pull back with a quizzical stare. “My dick helps me with that.” I joke.

Emma rolls her eyes. “I just mean you’re so large, muscular, and hairy. It’s a huge turn on for me. You’re like a bear.”

“Whatever gets ya’ going, Sugar. I knew you liked animals a lot but I didn’t know bears turned you on.” I chuckle as my hands rest on the globes of her ass.

“Oh shut up!” She laughs with a touch of exasperation. “You’re fucking sexy and I’m certain that I’m not the first to tell you that. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so cocky and sure of yourself.” She says.

“It’s confidence not cockiness, sweetheart. I’ve got plenty of cock though.” I point to my hard member standing at attention between us with a smug grin and she tilts her head back tiresomely while shaking her head at my corny joke.

“Lucky for me, I found an intelligent, beautiful, and incredibly perfect woman that fits on top of it like it was made for her.”

“Should I be jealous? You got yourself a mistress already?” She says with an eyebrow arched and I quickly smack her ass check which causes her to grind up against my bulge.

“Woman! You better stop with that shit. You know I’m talking about you.”

She smiles and leans forward to kiss me. Our tongues fight for dominance before Emma reaches down and fists my cock before lifting herself up and pressing me to her entrance. I stop her as my hands tighten on her waist, causing her to scoot back a bit.

“Condom?” I ask praying it doesn’t ruin the mood.

“I got tested after I broke up with Colin and I haven’t been with anyone sense. I’m on the pill. I’m good with it if you are.”

“I’m clean too. Got tested at my physical about eight months ago and haven’t been with anyone sense.” I tell her before kissing her enthusiastically.

“I want to really feel you.” I breathe against her lips. She looks down and lifts herself up again, angling my cock toward her once more.

“You sure?” I ask her and she nods before slowly gliding down on me and I feel my nuts draw tight to my body. God, she feels like silk. I hear her shaky inhale as she slides all the way flush onto me.

“Jesus, babygirl. You’re going to unman me. You feel too fucking good. So soft and warm and wet” I say as I struggle to keep my cool. She fits so tightly around me that just the slight movement of our breathing makes me want to moan in pleasure.

“Not possible.” She giggles as I take a deep breath. “You’re not a man, you’re a bear.”

“That so? Huh, guess that makes you my little goldilocks.” I grunt and she giggles louder and I reach to hold her still so I don't cum too quickly. She's squeezing me like a fuckin' vice.

“Mmmm and I found the cock that fits jusssssttt right.” She replies and I laugh brasher than I had meant too but she was just so fucking cute.

“Yeah, you were made for me. Not just your pussy, all of you.” I say breathlessly when she lifts herself up slowly before slamming back down against me.

“You gonna fill me up, Bear? Drip out of me?” She asks seductively and I groan in pleasure.

“You better believe it. Ya want my cum inside of ya, Goldi?” I growl. She giggles and nods enthusiastically and before she can respond I grab the back of her head and slot my tongue into her mouth again.

I grab the little crevice under each of Emma’s ass cheeks and help her lift herself up and down on top of me. It’s insanely sexy to watch her take control of her own pleasure. She releases little breathless pants and moans that I don’t think she’s even aware of as she works herself on my cock. Her tits bounce and jiggle with each motion and I quickly begin sucking on them and rubbing my beard across them as I spread kisses across her chest. I’m jolted from my ecstasy when I hear her whine.

“Damn cowgirl. You ride real good.” I grunt as I take in her form after she flips her partially damp hair over to one side of her and arches her back slightly with each descent.

“Yes, talk to me baby.” Emma whimpers.

“Mmm, you want me to talk dirty to you? Tell you how fucking beautiful you look ridin’ me? Tell you how much I love these perfect tits in my face. How I’m going to think of this moment when you’re not here the next time I stroke my cock?”

“mmmhmm, keep going. I’m so close.” She whines.

“God, baby. You look and feel so good. I can’t stop thinking about how your sweet little peach is dripping your delicious honey down my balls as they slap against your ass. Never tasted a peach more perfect than yours. Wanna wake you in the morning licking that peach and keep it on my beard so I can taste you throughout the day.” She clenches down on me so hard, I know I’ve got her there.

Emma’s orgasm explodes through her body and I wrap my arm across her back to keep her upright as she trembles in bliss. I keep pumping into her from underneath to help her ride out her climax before I lift her up and place her on her feet. I press her against the glass shower wall and she chirps at the cold glass against her overheated body. I spread her ass cheeks wide as I arch her back before I slide back into her. As soon as I slide in, Emma moans so deliciously that my pace falters as I am tempted to cum.

“Fuck, sugar. Noises like that and a view like this,” I stare down and watch myself slide in and out of her, my cock shining with her slick, “gonna make me blow my load sooner than I wanted too.” I admit. I knead my hands into the globes of her perfectly round ass and then gently smack each cheek to watch it jiggle. I’m tempted to press on her little ring of muscle, but don’t know how she’d react so I don’t. I quickly realize that I’m pretty close and I want her to have another before I let go. I reach down and find her clit with my fingers and start stimulating her.

“Sugar, I need one more.”

“I c…can’t, Sy. Too tired.” She murmurs.

“One more, angel. I need to feel you explode around me while I pump my cum deep inside ya. You can do it. C’mon.” I encourage her and she’s moaning no longer caring about the volume of her voice. It’s erotic as hell.

My finger continues to stimulate her clit before I slightly pinch it and am rewarded with a loud whine as Emma clenches down on me and begins to quiver uncontrollably.

“Oh, fuckkkkkkkk, Austinnnnn.” She screams and her body goes completely limp against the glass wall as I quickly hold her up with one arm around her waist. I slam into her repeatedly as I feel my climax approaching and then I release my cum into her tight channel.

“Shittttt!” I grunt as I keep pumping my cum deeper inside of her and it feels like my orgasm continues longer than normal as I fill up her snug pussy.

While still connected, I lift her slightly and sit back down on the bench in the shower. I knew what I was doing when I installed this thing. Emma’s body is completely limp as she’s laid back on my lap with her back against my chest. Her head is tucked under my chin and her hands lay limply against my arm.

“Are you intending on making me unable to walk or stand, baby?”

“Nah sugar, just a happy coincidence.” I tell her. I gently slide out of her and hear her wince from the loss. I set her on the bench and angle the water towards her to keep her warm while I get some body wash and begin washing her off. Even though my old injured leg protests greatly, I kneel down and begin washing her legs. When I lift her right leg, I see my cum dripping from her core and damn, did it look good. Emma smirked at me as I went to wash her there and then slid the washcloth up over her stomach and to her breasts.

“Gotta make sure I clean you up after I make you dirty.” I grin as I waggle my eyebrows at her.

She chuckles, “Oh and my boobs are extra dirty?”

“Mmmhmm. Are you trying to imply something?” I ask with fake offense.

“Nope, now get up. It’s my turn.” I stand and help her up off the bench. Emma’s legs shake a bit and I hold back a chuckle so she doesn’t see. Ole’ Sy’s still got it.

Emma lathers up the soap and then begins to wash me. I can tell that she’s tired and not intending on doing so seductively, but she just radiates this aura that makes me want to fuck her seven ways to Sunday. Focus Sy, she’s absolutely shattered and certainly sore. Plus, you ain’t in your twenties anymore, I scold myself.

After Emma washes me, we rinse off and I wrap her up in a large fluffy towel. We both dry off, and I get out a new toothbrush that I have in a cabinet and we silently brush our teeth. I lead Emma back into the bedroom and pull the covers back so she can slide in. I take her towel and hang it up and run out to the living room and check on both dogs who are sleeping soundly in their beds. I grab a bottle of water for the both of us before I climb in bed next to her. I open my arms and she immediately shuffles into them where she rests her head against my chest. I’m a bit nervous about sleeping next to her and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest but am hoping she doesn’t notice. I haven’t slept next to a woman all night in probably ten years, and I certainly haven’t after all of my PTSD episodes.

We lay there in the dark room for a moment and I wonder if she’s fallen asleep before she lifts her head and I see her eyes looking for mine.

“I know you are worried, but I just need you to know that I have never ever felt safer in my life than right here in your arms. Everything will be okay.” I exhale a breath of relief before I place a chaste kiss to her lips.

“G’night, sugar.”

“Night, bear.” I smile at her response and feel her snuggle into me as my eyelids get heavier. A few moments pass and I hear her deep, even breathing. I take a deep breath and allow myself to drift off to sleep much easier than I had anticipated.

Part 6

Author's Note:

I have absolutely NOTHING written yet for part 6, but tomorrow morning we are going to adopt a new little puppy named Dug to be a part of our family after our elderly dog died a few months back. That being said, I'll be very busy with the new pup, my kids, and Christmas approaching so I beg you to be patient with me about getting the next part out. I only want to post when I consider it my best so it may take a few days. I hope you all are having a fantastic weekend! ❤️

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