#A FIST BUMP IS THE RAPTURE IN THESE PARTS

[ef-1]

Me fighting for my life for most of august and I was in and out of hospital and I had to miss zandvoort and none of you bitches thought to tell me we got dewis? Like. That could have fixed me ? Not a real bitch among you hoes I'm so mad and devastated rn what have I ever done to deserve this wow

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Dark!Attuma: dub-con || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » You Will Be Mine #1 «

“I don’t like you,” Okoye loudly proclaimed, her hands fisted on either side of her body as she glared daggers at the infuriating man currently invading her space. She’d been on her way out of the training room when he’d found her, stalking after her as she’d walked past him down the hall.

“No, what you do not like is the fact that your heart races whenever I am around,” he countered, advancing on her tense form. They’d reach a secluded area of the building; her course having carried them away from the throng of women who’d been receiving her tutelage. The fire in her eyes—which would have sent most men, surface dweller or Talokanil, running in the opposite direction—amused him, his fingers longing to pinch her cheeks before bending her over to do as he pleased.

Noting that he’d trailed her, she attempted to stand her ground, but was forced back by his larger frame. He pushed his chest into her until she had to take several unsteady steps, lest she be knocked to the floor. Her defense was to strike back. She moved to punch him, aiming for his throat, but he caught her fist then took both her arms in his. He continued his forward stride, taking her with him, until he had her against the wall behind her.

“You may not be aware, but we Talokanil have enhanced senses. Our ancestors’ consumption of the plant and our residence deep within the sea has strengthened us far beyond the capabilities of you mere surface dwellers,” he breathed, leaning close so his words were spoken directly into her ear. “Not only can I hear the quickening of your heart, but I can also smell the way your pussy slickens in my presence.”

Okoye’s gasp brought a smirk to his face. Releasing his hold, he caressed her biceps. His palms ran along her bare skin, delighting in the goose bumps that appeared in their wake.

He inhaled deeply, exaggerating the action, so she would hear.

“Yes, I have scented exactly how I excite you. Your body reveals what your mind resists.” He made to kiss her lips, but Okoye altered his destination with the turn of her head.

Chuckling, Attuma licked her neck instead. He bit at the flesh, gentling his jaw, for now, satisfied with whichever areas of her body he could taste and touch.

Trembling, Okoye held her mouth shut, constricting her throat to contain the rapturous noises his fondling elicited. Once she’d gained a semblance of control, she parted her lips.

“What do you think you’ll gain from this?” She asked and cringed internally when her voice lacked the steel needed to make it unscathed, through his dark seduction.

“Hmm,” he hummed in her neck, pretending to think. His hands had moved to her chest, grazing the undersides of her breasts. “Preferably, this exchange would end with you knelt before me, open and waiting to receive my girth,” he pressed said girth into her abdomen, unashamed by the affect she had on his body. “But, for this first encounter, I will settle for the admission of your longing.”

“I told you. I don’t like you.”

“We both know that is not the case,” he murmured. The tender brushes upon her breasts turned rough, Attuma pinching her erect nipples in punishment.

Okoye cried out, moaning aloud as he twisted the points and bit more firmly into her neck. Her knees buckled, but she remained in place—pinned, by his hips, to the wall.

Emboldened by her response, he transferred his hold to her ass, gripping as he lifted her from the ground. He encouraged her legs around his waist. The new position placed his cock in line with her cunt, and Attuma immediately rubbed his manhood against her supple flesh.

“Admit that you yearn for me, and I will pleasure you beyond measure,” he panted. He made good on his pledge as he palmed her backside, forcing her hips toward him.

His thrusts were angled along her clit and left Okoye in helpless pleasure. Her mind, which had been in support of her fighting his advances, clouded, consumed with the bliss brought on by his handling. Her moans increased in volume, her fingernails digging into the skin on his shoulders.

“Speak or I will stop.” The words were a demand, Attuma’s frustration with her growing. Using all of his willpower, he stilled his movements and let go of her bottom with one hand. He clenched her chin, jerking her face so she looked him in the eyes. “Speak now!”

Gulping, Okoye’s thighs flexed around him, her body urging him forward, though, her mouth remained shut.

Attuma growled in reaction to her silence, teeth bared as he glared at her. He let her go, carefully placing her back on her feet despite his anger. He watched while she sagged against the wall, her breathing ragged. His erection throbbed, but he departed after taking in her tempting form one last time.

“For now, I will leave you be, but know that I will return,” was his parting promise.

[hanibalistic]

#B8C3FF | LEE JENO.

genre | romance, fluff

word count | 1141

warning | brief mention of biting self.​

note | hi, it’s jeno time.

"i want to stand close to the lights."

jeno perked up. he raised his head from the position most comfortable for him to stare at the gaps between the bleachers and looked ahead at the empty football stadium. 

the nightlight stayed on half an hour after the final match, casting silent shadows over where cheers and chants once lived. the faded silhouettes of the cheer squad, the marching band, the vast audience, and the football team lingered behind their spirit and scent, signaling the end to another class of seniors.

jeno raised his brows with indifference. he was used to this place. he has been under the lights before, running and sweating. the desire to be under those lights or in the center of the football field was not something he thought about. it wasn’t anything extraordinary.

“why?” he asked. “it’s bright down there.”

“i like the light,” you said as you stood up from your seat, your eyes trained on the nightlights as you stepped toward the stairs and made your way down. “i would like to be blinded.”

his eyes widened a fraction, not in surprise but in defeat, one where his eyes screamed ahead into the void as he tried to decipher what you meant exactly. other than the football field, jeno was also used to this. it was not unlike you to voice your ultimately preposterous thoughts, and this was not even your worst one yet; wordy sentences of faith, cosmos, and borderline cannibalistic affection were common in your verbal dictionary. he only wished your dictionary gave out definitions.

after a few more impatient shakes of his leg, he exhaled with a short lick of his lower lip that quirked into a smirk, and his neck gave out, causing his head to slump downward. he forced his sore body to stand up then, and as he did so, he ran a hand through his hair to fix its disarray. you were already halfway down the bleachers when he began to follow you down, and he jogged and skipped steps to catch up.

the lights were blinding, just as jeno halfheartedly warned you of, but it was precisely this kind of piercing gleam that you wanted to feel. the air was chilly, but you liked the goosebumps on your arms. sparing yourself a spin, you basked in the sight of the empty stadium and submerged yourself into the atmosphere—the cold air a godly awakening, the night sky a blank and dark canvas, and the bright light that contrasted it something of dreamy rapture. 

you would like to be blinded by this environment, be forever stuck in this subtle excitement of being the god of an empty space. 

jeno shoved his hands in his pockets when he halted to a stop. he strolled toward you but decided to stay a few steps behind so he wouldn’t disrupt the blissful carnival your body was experiencing. your arms opened wide as you stumbled in slow and erratic circles, your eyes focused on the dust illuminated by the stadium lights. 

“is it really this fun?” he asked, genuine curiosity painted his lips.

you looked at him and nodded. “there is no one else here, this field is empty, and the world is mine for once.”

he hummed in approval, joyous that you felt so despite feeling the opposite.

he needed people around. the only times he felt like the world was his was when there were people around him, and noises of beepers with cheer pom-poms, and he was bumping fists with his teammates for another round of a sport you convinced him to get into in the first place.

come to think of it, you were the one who persuaded him to join the school’s football team. not the coach who saw potential in him during pe class and continuously pestered him about it, nor was it his friends who were already part of the team and thought he would be an amazing addition to the team due to his natural athletic physique. 

it was you, when you looked at him with an unknowing gleam of curiosity after he struggled to make small talk with you, and you told him it would be fun to be part of the football team while knowing nothing of it. 

why did he listen to you? he barely knew you back then; you two were paired for a project and only met once to twice a week. was it your honest disposition? the fact that you were genuine in everything you said? was it because you have proven to be right about almost every random thing you’ve said in passing, so it must be that joining the football team would be fun?

you were right about fairies living in mushroom houses, and there was one at the corner of your school by the south gate. you were right about the brownies that loitered in the library, shelving books and leaving some out for those who would need them. you were right about love when you told him it felt like biting your own arm off and throwing it into the river, and when the river turns red, you know your love is real.

ridiculous, preposterous things you’ve said; things about the gentleness of the world, the beauty in magic that should not have existed, the intelligence in believing. 

jeno tilted his head so he could lean his mind closer to the warmth of his heart, and he hoped his heart realized that it all came from him looking at the happiness on your face. 

ridiculous, preposterous things you’ve said, like the greatness of being alive and the miracle of falling in love. 

you convinced him to join the football team, but his final high school match was the only one you’ve been to. yet, while the world was his on the football field, everything died away the second he found you in the crowd. the world faded into black, into the vacuum of his hands, and he cast its light onto you, the person his world belonged to. 

“how are you feeling, jeno?” you shouted at him from across the field, which surprised the boy because he did not notice you straying that far away from him.

you stood small and alone beneath the nightlight, grinning and jumping to get his attention. he breathed, the soreness in his joint from the match softening until he was putty and melt before your presence. this was what it looked like whenever he saw you. this was a visual manifestation of how his heart viewed you—bright, gleaming, a star walking on two feet. 

jeno fished his hands out from his pockets and cupped them around his mouth, amplifying his voice when he shouted a reply from across the stadium to you.

“i feel like biting my arm off!”

[plush-rabbit]

Who’s A Pretty Boy?

Word Count: 5K

A/N: I wanna make him cry

You sit on your knees, body hovering above his stomach, hand laid flat as they hold you up, your mouth covers a soft colored nipple, pulling the soft bud into your mouth, having your tongue loll around it, quick, kitten-like flicks given to him as he ruts underneath you, his erection rubbing against your slit, enough to feel the warmth from the friction, to let sharp gasps escape past his scarred lips. He digs his heels into the mattress, stilling his hips above as he gives gentle, hesitant jerks above your core, and you can feel something warm slick by and coat your vulva in slippery strands.

“Tomura?” You call out to him, lips mumbled against his neck, feeling his pulse quicken. He whimpers in response and continues the motions, huffing and quickening his pace. “As much as I love how needy and cute you get under me, you know you aren’t allowed to jerk off to your heart’s content.”

“But I’m close,” he rasps out, his cock slipping past your lips, teasing at your entrance, before he pulls away and continues to rub at your outer area, staining it with thin, clear pre-ejaculate, sighing in relief when you run your tongue over an old scar, pressing a soft kiss on it, leaving it wet and soft. “I swear, I’ll get you off, just let me-”

“This isn’t about getting me off,” you remind him, raising him and moving away, letting his hips fall onto the bed with a soft thud. You sit on him, leaking onto his stomach, hands splayed across his chest, covering both breasts as the nipples peek through the gaps in your fingertips. “This is about you. You said such awful things about yourself.” You voice dips and he rolls his ankles, trying to look you in the eye but failing. “I need to make you feel pretty again.” You dip your head and kiss his temple. “My pretty,” you peck the space between his brows, “handsome,” your lips brush against his cheek, “strong,” his breath hitches as you kiss his nose, “wonderful,” your breath is warm on his lips and he parts them, his tongue peeking out and pressing against your lips for a quick second, “partner.” You kiss his lips- it’s soft and romantic, your tongue licking his bottom lip and once granted entrance, you push your tongue inside, curving around his and pulling away with a gasp and a soft blush tinting your face. “This is about making you feel good, love.”

He breathes heavily under you, chest rising and slowly, love bites bloom against his chest, circling around his nipples, darkening them in color and they pebble under your touch. Your palms slide and press down, rolling the buds under you, feeling the firmness poke at you. He whimpers under you, with a face a dark shade of red, eyelashes that cling together with dewdrops of tears. Your fingers replace your palms, pulling the hard buds, rolling and pinching them between your forefinger and thumb, a soft mewl escaping past his throat, his back arching and lifting you with him.

You slide past him, your slick shining on his stomach and he can feel the curve of your rear touch and graze at his erection, drips of warmth sliding past your lower back and slipping down. He keens underneath you, sharp sighs and hands curling around the bedsheet when you roll your tongue over a bud, the tip of your muscle teasing and prodding at the peach colored nipple. His hips buck, a hiss passes through his teeth as the friction sends ripples of pleasure down his cock. You nurse on his chest, pulling the bud in your mouth, cheeks hollowing as your tongue flickers around the shy, pink teat. He bucks and whines, soft mewls sounding the room, hands curling and fisting the blanket, fingers going rigid and nails turning to claws.

You pull away with a click, his teat shines in spittle, leaning down, you blow cool air onto him, peppering kisses over his areola, chuckling as he calls your name in a hoarse whisper. You give him a final kiss, pulling away with a soft smack and nursing on the neglected bud that beams with red from the treatment of your fingers. Underneath you, he lets pitiful sounds tremble past his lips as his hips stutter and rise with each breath, his cock twitching and he can only manage the word “close” in a rushed prayer, twisting the thin fabric of the bedsheet in his hands, cock burning with heat as he lets out a strangled cry. His hips stutter, and you’re a saving grace, moving yourself along him, edging his orgasm further, watching his face scrunch, eyes closed tight as you pepper yourself over his chest, past his collarbones and onto his neck, your nose brushing against new and faded scars. Your name comes in broken syllables, broken in between and high pitched, warmth flooding and sliding down your bum, and he drips and twitches onto his thighs, thick discharge staining his thighs in white cream that trails down his shaft.

He winces and grits his teeth as you move away from him, his still tender cock sparking with aftershocks when your hand wraps around him, your palm soft and warm as it envelops his cockhead and begins to jerk him. His eyes remain close, lips parted and moving with soundless words, words of praise that translates into soft pleads, mercy for a minute of rest, mercy for the pleasure to never stop, to let your hand roll over him and to milk him dry, to feel weightless as the second orgasm shoots past him, spurts of cream dribbling out. He calls your name, his fists loosening and the bedsheet under him is wrinkled and twisted into a swirl.

Tears stain his red eyes, spilling over with a mouth parted and face tinted red. He shakes underneath you, muscles tensing and hips rising in an attempt to jerk himself off in your hand, sighing and cooing as you tighten your grip. His arousal clicks in the room and spills over, coating him in warmth, legs twisting and he calls your name, hoarse and cracked, and when he collapses onto the bed, his thickness softening and the red tipped head that bloomed with life lessens into a delicate pink covered in white. Slender fingers raise and grasp your wrist in weak hands and yet with the mess of a man underneath you, you continue to take care of him, needing down to kiss at his chest, where he flutters and shivers in reaction.

Tears shine and flood over, tracing his cheeks in rapture and overstimulation, his face growing red and he whines under you, slapping a hand over his mouth, scrunching his face together as you hand swirls around him. It’s slow and tantalizing, a loose grip on his hardening member, feeling it swell as you glide up and down his cock in steady motions. He breathes harshly through his nose, nostrils flaring and chest blooming with red that creeps towards his face. You sit beside him, legs neatly folded underneath you and when you lower your head, he twitches, thinking you’re going to place his cock in your mouth, to finally feel a tighter grip that doesn’t make his legs kick out in frustration but he only whines more when you kiss at his collarbone, lips softly brushing against a scar.

“Stop,” he whines, voice high and needy, muffled and in pain. “This isn’t fair,” he croaks, feeling the familiar tightening of his belly. His hand falls from his face and rests above his chest, cupping at a breast.

“I think it is.” Your words are soft, nothing higher than a whisper, a hand rubbing his sides, a feather like touch that bumps his skin and leaves him squirming underneath you. “You said such bad things about yourself, Tomura.” Your lips drag along his body, resting upon another scar that extends three inches. “I don’t think you should get to call the shots after such negativity, dear.”

You tighten your grip at the base and give him a strong jerk making him gasp, beads of pearl peeking from his slit and shining under the light. And with the quick introduction of pleasure, it’s ripped away from him, your fingers fluttering away, nails grazing at a vein and he groans, throwing his head back, the building ecstasy flutters away, literally between fingertips. His heels press into the mattress, breaths deep and ragged, with a painful look on his face, he flutters his eyes open and looks at you through unshed tears.

“No,” he croaks, “what did I do?” His chest rises, and even to his own ears, he sounds so pitiful, so broken with the false promise of relief. “Please,” he begs and all at once, the image of Shigaraki is gone and is now replaced with Tomura who lays on his back, with a red tinted face, eyes pricking with tears and a voice broken with whispers and moans. “I promise to be good.”

Your hand cusps his face, thumb brushing a cheek, catching a tear that managed to slip and it glistens for a second before spilling down your palm. “You were so mean to yourself, Tomura. You know that right?” In your grasp, he nods his head shaikly. “I hate hearing you say such negative things about yourself.” You press a kiss on his nose, and his hand claws over his chest, red lines blooming in the next moment.

“I won’t say it again-” a groan fills the room when your hand returns to his shaft, fisted tightly over his base- “I- I promise.” He bucks his hips, trembling as you place a hand down on his navel, a silent warning to keep him still to which he follows with a shiver coursing down his spine. “Just please- please, take care of me.”

You inch forward, you hand gliding up and encasing his cockhead in your grasp. The hand on his face slides and tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, pushing at the strands that stick to his forehead with sweat. “Do you know how much I love you?” Your lips meet his in sweet kiss, quick and with a quick swipe of your tongue across his scar. “I love you so much and to hear you call yourself such ugly names- something so vile and obvious lies,” your voice tightens and the space between his brows furrow, “it’s not nice Tomura.” You kiss at the corner of his lips, leaving a trail of kisses as you come to his ear, sucking softly on the lobe and releasing it with a nudge of your tongue. “You're so pretty Tomura. I don’t want you saying such awful lies about yourself, okay?”

He nods, unable to give a verbal confirmation. Chest stuttering and slowly your hand begins to move, stroking him and wiping your thumb above his slit, swirling the pre-ejaculate around his cockhead that has bloomed a deep shade of red, swelling and aching with the tease that has been enacted upon him. He sighs, eyes fluttering close, his pink muscle, swiping above where yours was placed. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying to keep his breathing under control. “Am- Am I allowed to touch you?”

“Not yet dear.” Your breath fans across his neck and when he reopens his eyes you’re positioned in front of his cock, lips hovering above, blowing cool air and watching him with careful eyes to gauge his reaction. He twists and lets out a hiss, nodding his head in rapid movements. “Sweetheart?” He hums in response, a soft moan in the back of his throat as your hand slides and flutters to massage his testicles, rubbing them in your palm, fingers moving expertly around him. “Does this feel good?”

“So good,” he mumbles, cock bobbing in excitement. “Can- Can you touch my cock, please?” He asks in a breathless tone, already close to his release with the little touch that he’s been given. “I- Please?”

“Whatever the prettiest boy wants,” you coo, and he can feel his face turn warm, eyes wide and once again, he’s unable to trust his voice, and nods to your praise, mouthing a thank you, keening as your other hand grabs his cock, fisting over it with a tight grip, soft clicking filling the room as his hands dig into the soft skin at your thighs.

The pleasure is so close for him, already at the doorstep with just a simple touch. He drags his nails across your skin, watching as you fondle him, rolling and massaging, tugging lightly and cooing over how handsome he looks- so needy and breathtaking and the words only bring tears to his eyes. He lets his hand slide and shakily, his palms cover his eyes. His breaths deepen, they lose the ragged, pleasure-tinted gasps and it’s replaced with a harsh, croak-like breathing, and he calls your name in a pained cry, shaking his head and it’s only intensified when your mouth replaces your hand.

Your mouth is warm, tongue lapping and swirlin above him and the hand moves away from his testicles and onto his thigh, rubbing a palm over him as you swallow. His tip hits the back of your throat, a bitter taste running down your throat and causing your eyes to water. He sobs as you take him, flinches at the wet smacking sounds that protrude from you and him, shivers and moans when your teeth graze against a vein. His eyes dart and your hand has disappeared between your core, fingers disappearing into you. Your cheeks hollow and he can only lament your name, something cracked and layered with pleasure and he cries as he shoots down your throat, filling your belly with warmth.

Even as he shivers and shakes, muscles tensing, you continue to bob your head in a quick rhythm, pressing down until your nose touches the base and you’re choking against him, eyes watering and releasing with a gag, your chin coated in a light layer of drool while his cock glistens with your spittle.

“What a pretty boy,” you call out to him, pressing your lips against his in a sensual kiss. “You look so cute. So strong and handsome.” Your words brand against his skin, flinching as he tries to calm himself through the aftershocks, lightly grabbing your hand and breathing hard with tears still in his eyes and mind growing foggy. “Tomura, you’re amazing.” You press your lips against a new scar, one that is still tender and stings when just the right amount of pleasure is pressed onto it. A scar that can be easily opened and make him cry in agony.

“No,” he breathes, shaking his head, repeating the word over and over until he is simply mouthing the words. “No, I’m not,” he whines, chest stuttering with cries. “I’m awful. Fuck!” He curses, spitting the word out and his fingers bend and twist and hepeirces his skin, marking it in red as he drags his hands down, teeth bared as hot tears burn his skin.

You call his name quick and pull his hands away from him, your face knitted in worry and continues to cry, stuttering and repeating his previous words, until they are muffled against your shoulder, his hands clawing at your back, and he’s exposed. He’s more exposed than he will ever be. He cries into your shoulder and tells you that he is not beautiful, he sobs and shakes his head. You run your hands through his hair, pet at his back and trail up and down his spine. You call to him, quiet and still, you pull his head off of your shoulder and his nose is tipped red and eyes that glimmer.

“Tomura, my love,” he flinches at the name and you pepper a kiss against his cheek, catching a bitter tear, “you are not awful. You are not horrible to look at.” You hold his face in your hands and kiss at his tears, mindful of the soft whimpers and the tightening of his hands against your back. “Tomura, I love you so much. You’re so handsome.” You kiss at his nose and swipe a tear away. You sniffle light and press your lips against him, dragging them across until they pepper and cover his face in love. “You are my everything Tomura. You will always be the more beautiful person to walk this earth.”

He whines at your tough and puts his lips on yours, pulling you above him as he whines and tries to nuzzle his cock against your core, desperate for a second of relief. You understand his message, settling above him, hissing and resting your forehead against his as you lower and rise above him.

The soft light catches and forms a halo around you, body glowing and shining with sweat. You are above him, glowing and ethereal, and he lays below you, covered in tears and scars, hands too afraid to touch you when you shuffle, moving your hips bending over to capture him in one last kiss, he lets his eyes half close as you start to swirl your hips. Your eyes clench close as you move around him, feeling as he fills your walls your own walls wrap and mold to his shape, squishing and trembling around him.

You’re soft; so deliciously soft, as he stays inside of you, cock twitching to life, already feeling the burning sensation of another orgasm about to come, teetering around the edges, the wisps of it’s burning flame dancing and teasing as you move above him, palms laid flat against his stomach, touching at his abdomen, smoothing upwards until they cup his chest, your own back arching and you clench at he hits at a spot. Your walls are like velvet, soft and welcoming, and he welcomes the pleasure, sighing and throwing his head back, letting your cunt wrap around him with a tight grip.

You’re above him- one hand holding you up as the other cusps his face and his eyes open in a daze, a soft smile tracing his lips and you two share another intimate kiss, tongues swirling around each others, pulling away with gasp and he looks at you with stars in his eyes, head tilting and positively in love.

“You’re so handsome,” you coo and when he starts to shake his head, his bottom lip trembling, you quiet him with another kiss, pulling at his cock and pressing yourself close to him once again. “So handsome, I swear.” He whines under you, bucking his hips in an attempt to get you to just focus on the pleasure. Your hands glide down his chest and you pinch at his abused teats that bloom in a red compared to the delicate peach color that they held. “I wish you could see how I saw you, so cute and strong.” You dip down and kiss and nip at a collarbone. “So strong and amazing.” You shake your head against him, tongue spilling out to trace the bone. “Handsome and wonderful-” you brush your nose against the base of his neck- “oh yes you are.” Your hand slides and traces against a scar the curves under his breast and pulls taut against his body. “So precious.”

His hands shake, latching onto your hips, nails that press and leave crescent marks tattooed onto your skin. “I’m go- fuck-” he curses, jerking his hips, pushing cock to the hilt inside of you when you spin your hips on him- “too sensitive,” he mumbles, cock pulsing inside of you. His hand leaves you, ring finger touching where your clit throbs with excitement, eyes fluttering open to look at you. You move above him, bottom lip tucked between teeth only to let go to moan out his name. He can feel your walls clench around him, squishing and fitting around his length as he moves in a rapid motion. He circles your pearl, watching as your breasts bounce, gleaning with sweat, eyes clouded with lust and drool pooling his mouth as he can feel his high approach. “Not going-”

You quiet him with a kiss, tender and fleeting on his lips. He mewls as your cunt slides off, his head inside as it grows hot, groaning and trying to reach for your lips again as you pull away from the kiss. “You’re allowed to, you know?” He narrows his eyes, confusion written over his face. “You’re allowed to love yourself,” you breathe out, stilling above him and playing your hands on his chest, slowly rising and falling on him. “You’re so pretty. So good,” you whine above him, brows furrowing as you sigh, slick slipping past and clicking in the room. “Handsome and lovely- everything about you is perfect- ah!” Your nails scratch against his chest, chest rising and falling as your orgasm edges closer. “I love you Tomura,” you moan, lowering yourself closer to him, your own eyes shining with tears, a twitchy smile gracing your lips as you try to steady yourself on him. “If- if I could- fuck- I’d,” you suck in a harsh breath and lower your head- “kiss your scars, every- every last one of them until you felt better.” A desperate whine trembles past your lips and he can already tell you’re reaching your end, your clit pulses underneath his fingertip, your breathing becoming more ragged and words broken by curses as you rise above him, whimpering with a lovesick look in your eyes. “I love you, Tomura.” Your head tilts and you grab at the hand on your hip and let it drag over the soft pouch of your stomach, grazing past a bouncing breast and letting it rest over your heart. “You’re so handsome. My- My handsome love.”

He sucks in a harsh breath, letting his hand press above your beating heart, sighing and arching his back as the limp in his throat tightens, spriing tears into his already puffy eyes. “I-” he bites his tongue and shakes his head- “I’d let you. I let you do whatever you wanted,” he croaks. His hand stays put at your heart while the other continues to rub at your heat. “You’re amazing.” Words die at his tongue, his hands fading from your body and he steadies himself with a sharp grip at your side, clicking his tongue at how you twist and laugh breathlessly, your hands covering his. Tears flow down his face in gentle rivers, calming and in relief as he can feel you twitch, still and moan his name, muffling it with your palm.

Words of affirmation, words that would repeat your own, die and choke him, wrapping and filling his throat with an indescribable heaviness. Your words continue to spill from your lips, full of grace and adorned with love, stuttering and repeating phrases as the words slowly slur together, his name said in a breathless chant, one that fills the room and drones out all other noise, gasping and whimpering. He cries under you, sniffling and chanting your name while his hands soften and rest on your hips and slide down your thighs and onto the bed, cock spilling his seed deep inside of you, painting you in a warmth that fills your body.

Tomura’s vision goes into a bright, white light- shining and blinding and there’s a hot flame that consumes his body, licks at his limbs and scars, consumes him and leaves him weightless for a second that lasts for eternity. He moans your name, crying and hands that dig into your hips, spilling his seed inside of you, as tears trace down the curve of his face. Eyes roll over, shutting shut, a heavy blush dusting at his cheeks as a loose smile breaks across his face. He twitches and whines, hisses between closed teeth as you move off of him, feeling ejaculate that had dripped from your cunt and coated him, moving down with syrup consistency. He shakes, his skin bumping and on high sensitivity, jaw slack as you kiss his chest, kiss the curve of his neck and finally his lips. He mewls under you, a shameful sound that makes your heart skip and his own jump at the sound.

He lays still, heaving and aching, with heavy knees while you flutter across the room. His eyes flutter close and he calls out to you, a soft whisper of your name that turns louder, growing hoarse with the abuse from his voice. His body is worn, completely spent and every so often, he gives a quick jerk, his body covered in shivers. His hands paw at the bedsheet in gentle scratches, whimpering your name until you come into the room, a towel that drips on the floor held in one hand, while the other hand holds a dry towel.

The bed creaks under your weight, drops of warm water slide down his thigh and wet the bed in small pools. He makes a noise of confusion, leg jerking as the towel is wrapped around his shaft. He sucks in harsh breath, swallowing nervously and shaking his head.

“‘M too sore,” he whimpers, shaking his head. “Not now.” He gives a small wave of his hand, trying to flutter around the towel that sticks pleasantly to his skin.

“I’m just cleaning you,” you say sweetly, drying at the fluids that coat his thighs and slide to the base of his cock. “You’re not in the mod for a shower, right?” He shakes his head no, mumbling out a soft word of exhaustion, a yawn reinforcing his words. “Then let clean you, okay?”

“Can you hold me?” He asks, raising himself on his elbows with a wince. “I’m cold,” he whines.

“Of course.” Your reply is quickly. He lays in silence, his breathing slow and steady, already drifting to sleep as something soft cups at his soft member, fondling it gently and it rests against him, soft and dry. He’s given a pat on his pubic bone, and he smiles softly. “All done,” you mumble.

Once more the bed creaks as you move to place the towels on the sink. You return to him, on his side, an arm extended on your side of the bed. You lay next to him, his face immediately burying onto your chest, lips ghost above your breasts and he sighs, moving his legs so that they rest under yours. Your hands come to thread through his hair, fingers parting and tugging on knots, freeing his hair.

“Feels good,” he mutters, immediately followed by a yawn.

“The petting?” You ask, and he nods in response, letting out a yawn that you mimic moments after. Your hands move to curve on the top of his head, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. He hums into your chest, arms snaking around and pulling you close. He mumbles words, too soft and muted to be understood, his hands trying to mimic your movements but only ending up as a soft dragging of his nails down your skin. You chuckle softly, pressing your nose against the top of his head, lips light on him. You hum and tap against him. “Who’s a pretty boy? Hm?”

He groans and his legs wrap around yours, chest heaving and heart beating against him. “I am,” he mumbles, lips pulling into a thin line that soon stretches against his face in a nervous smile.

“You’re so cute,” you croon, kissing him once more. His face burns against your skin. “Yes, you are,” you coo, voice raising an octave, lips in a soft pout. “You’re the cutest. Cutest villain, cutest boy- the absolute cutest,” you say with a honey sweet tone, pressing kisses against the top of his head, half kisses against his temple keeping him close to you.

“You’re cute,” he mumbles sleepily, eyes close and hands going to a soft limp. “Best thing-” he yawns and shifts on the bed- “to happen to me,” he trails, lips coming together in a pout to softly kiss at your chest. He means every word he says, wants to repeat them until they no longer feel like words- he wants to give you the praise that you just gave to him; will gladly pull himself apart if it meant he could show you how much he loves you. Your touch is safe, makes him feel like nothing could truly harm him. He stays curled next to you, wants to mouth and speak endlessly to you, to praise and love you, to have you cry with tears of joy as you both rest in the same bed. His body is decorated in scars, each with a story, all of them kissed and soothed by your lips and touch. It’s something deeper than love, he figures. He’s only ever felt devotion to someone, but it’s more than that with you. He can never explain it, words could and would never be enough, he wants to show and tell you. He will love you to the point of recreation, will shape the world however you want it to be, as long as you’d smile and kiss him- he’d do so much for only a smile.

Your eyes water and there’s a smile that stretches against your lips, curves and tugs painfully on your cheeks and your throat is tight. Even in sleep, he’s still so cute. Holding himself against you and telling you something so sweet, that you know will only be repeated when he’s particularly vulnerable. You smile and nod to yourself, hands returning to scratch at him. “I love you, Tomura,” you say in a tender voice, quiet and gentle against him. “I love you so much.” Your love registers in his sleeping mind, something soft and warm, three simple words that finally make him feel protected and loved. Your hand pets the top of his head, slowly and in a delicate motion, letting the ends flutter and cascade down his back, watching as the red in face, turns into a lovely shade of pink. You brush your fingertip against his face, swiping at the drying tear stains that shine on his skin, shuffling and pressing your lips against the scars that adorn his face in soft and jagged curves.

[oingo233]

Rapture is a Boy (3)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior?  And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warning: angst, cuss words, self-doubt, angst, cheating, angst (but not as much as there will be later mwhahaha)  

Authors note: I try to keep my writing(self inserts) gender, body type, ethnicity and house neutral/not specified.  If I ever slip up please let me know so that I can change it.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Word Count: 3k

                                                     Part Three

                           ****After All This Time, There is No Love****

The common room walls seemed to pulse with the vibrations of the song, every ear in the room being invaded with music, cheers, laughter, and somewhere for some odd reason, screaming.  Screams of joy of course. The party was alive and everyone had large smiles and butterbeer slipping through giggles or being shared through a kiss. This party would surely be talked about in the weeks to come.

But I was having a harder time of letting loose, and it would seem Lily is too.  For our very reason for throwing the party could not make it, so what the hell was the point?  Remus was off studying, James was off studying, so we had no lips to lock with our own, no body to dance and grip to, no one to have fun with in the way we wanted to tonight.  Lily was sipping on a butterbeer, staring at the portrait with me, hoping they’d walk through.

“Ladies...” A hufflepuff named Paul collided into our sides, looping his arms around our shoulder.  Lily to his right, I to his left.  He was staring drunkenly at the portrait with us, his eyes going large and then small, as if he was searching for something. “What are we doing?” He chuckles to himself.

“I mmmeann seriousllyy, if-if you’re waiting for a snnog anny onne here will step up.  Lilyy that is, she’s sinngle. I’d snnog you though (y/n) but Remmuss might tear mee apart-a-apart me.” He slurs, leaning in close to my face. “Pre,’ He mutters to himself “pretty,” he laughs again and saunters off, swaying his hips to the music, declaring he’ll chug another jug of butterbeer. I look at Lily and she stares back at me, mouth open and my own fighting a smile. Before we know it, we’re cackling like the bunch of witches/wizards we are.

“This is the worst, mission failed! M’ sorry Remus couldn’t make it,” Lily says, huffing hair out of her drink.  The fire burning only brought out the red of her hair, she looked apart of the flame herself.  I see why James was in love with her, she got her wits, charm, beauty, and kindness. So why would he miss this time to be with her?  Does Peter really need the whole lot of them?  

“mmmh,” I agree wordlessly, “M’ sorry James couldn’t.” She sighs into her drink, cheeks burning and she looks up at me.

“Me too.” She mumbles. I’m taken aback to say the very least.  I was always just teasing, I mean I had a hunch sure, but for her to really admit it. Well, I’m not proud to say that I stood there like a daft cow for roughly 5 minutes before she groaned and bumped her shoulder into mine. Hiding her smile and embarrassment with a final swig of her drink.  

“I- you- James?” Is all I can seem to get out of me, shock makes ya useless it seems.  She nods slowly.

“Yes, I thought you knew already.” She shrugs, turning towards the raging crowd of drunk witches and wizards.  

“Well, yeah..” I shrug just as cooly and she laughs, pushing me with her arm again.

“Stop, you did not because Remus doesn’t know, and you tell him everything.” She points out, but soon regrets it as my smile grows wickedly large.

“(y/n)!” But I was already half way through the portrait, muttering to myself just loud enough for her to hear.

“Remus! Remus, I’ve got to tell Remus!” I’m laughing hysterically as she chases me through the corridors, our robes trailing behind us like a little sea of black rolling by our angles.

“No! Please, don't!” She yells after me, both of us out of breath by the time we reach the same corridor as the library.  “I’ll hex you...” She glares at me as we walk swiftly up to the library doors.  Now, of course I would never ever snitch such a thing to anyone.  This is Lily’s long kept secret and when I had my unrequited love for Remus she didn’t go blabbering it to him or anyone else, so of course I would return the favor of silence.  My plan was to simply lead her to James, where they can now confess their undying love for one another after the secrets already out.  But she didn’t know this.

“You won’t hex me Lily dear, you’re not that against James knowing.  Why don’t you tell Remus yourself, or better yet, James!’’ I exclaim, smiling to myself for my own genius.  God, Remus will be in more of a shock than I, all the boys will, no one more than James. She tilts her head in disappointment directed at me, we raise our hands and together we open the doors.

We are first greeted with an indifferent glance in our direction from Pince.  We smile at her and nod our heads in her direction, then walk slowly (as in I’m matching Lily’s pace which is practically the march of dread) to the table the marauders usually sit. The table has all of our names scratched into the bottom.

I wish Lily would walk faster because I was bouncing to see Remus, he quickly apologized to me once again for being dismissive and it led to quite the kiss (or two) and left us with some unfinished business.  We turned the corner of a large bookshelf and where we were expecting to see the boys, we instead saw no one at all.

“Where are they?” I ask Lily, she shrugs beside me, just as confused.  Though her shoulders are slumped with either relief or disappointment, from the look on her face I can tell it is a mix of both. “Come,” I say wrapping my arm around her shoulder, “They’re bound to be here somewhere, yeah?”  She mumbled back a yeah to me, and together we searched the entirety of the library.

But it was a waste of time.  Hardly anyone was there, and certainly not the loud (yes, even when they study) boys we came here for.

But we did find someone of interest, walking back along the corridors we found someone perched by the window, staring out towards the forbidden forest, towards the shrieking shack. Lucy. Lucy is girl by the window. She looked worried.

I swallowed my pride and my anger. It’s irrational, I told myself, my emotions talking, not fact. I did all of this just to take two step towards her and ask a simple question.  But the answer was anything but.

“Are you okay? And before you lie to us, you should know that we genuinely are good listeners and I like to think quite non-judgmental and-” Though I swallowed so much, I could not swallow my stress ranting, the one that spawns when I am put in uncomfortable situations, such as this one. A curse truly. But thankfully Lily cuts me off.

“Yes, so uhm... are you?” Lily asks.  Lucy doesn’t even turn to us, she bites her lip and continues to stare out the window.  We almost go to ask again, thinking she hadn’t heard us.  But she starts speaking, her gaze never leaving the shack before her.

“I guess it’s always good to talk about our problems,” She laughs to herself, “Remus tells me that, says bottling things up only make it worse.  I’m worried about him actually.  Remus, do you know hi-” Her words fall short as she turns around and sees the expression on my face.  Remus.  She is worried about Remus, my boyfriend.  Why was she worried? Why was he not in the library where he said he would be?  What does Lucy know that I do not? 

Why does she care about Remus enough to sit and stare out of a window for hours? I quickly came back the conclusion that Remus was lying to me, about where he was, and who he loves. He has been cheating on me.

I stager backwards and Lily grasps my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. 

“Are you two friends?” She asks, without venom or even a quiver in her lip, but I felt like my world was crashing down. I was thankful she asked the question because I wouldn’t have been as composed.

“Yes, er- sort of, closer than friends actually” She smiles to herself like she just said the sweetest thing. But it was just another stab to the heart, another hand constricting my throat.  Not very convincing Lucy, I think to myself. Lily squeezes my hand again and goes to lead us away but Lucy begins to speak again.

“You’re (y/n) right?” She knows me. She knows me?  I nod numbly and Lily quickly says goodbye for us, and rushes us away. She partly carries me through the portrait, I trail lamely behind her, not able of thought. She trudges us up the stairs to her bed where she promptly lets me sit and breakdown.

“Lily...” I don’t get to finish the sentence before she pulls me in for a hug, I didn’t realize how hard I was crying until my sobs made our shoulders hit into one another. She hugs me tighter, running her hands through my hair.  Shhhsing me softly, and whispering sweet things in my ear.

“I love him, I love him so much,” I cry out, fisting her shirt in my hands. I think I feel her wipe away a tear of her own. God, I must be such a mess to make Lily herself cry. But I am a mess.  I feel as though my very home has been taken away from me.  This boy I gave my heart to, this boy I gave my very own body and love to, was giving it all to someone else.  I confided in him, I trusted him, hell I’d even die for him.  But he was playing me, he was using me. I have been loving a stranger.

“He doesn’t love me...”Is all I can mumble to myself again and again, rocking in Lily's embrace. We lay there until sleep takes us. None of the girls wake us up whether I belonged in Lily's bed or not, they noticed the way my face seemed blotchy and I was frowning in my sleep.  But more than that they saw the tired look in Lily’s expression, and the rage hidden deep within.

I woke up to the sound of rustling clothes, and parchment.  The sound of the girls dormitory coming alive, and everyone preparing for the schools day ahead.  I didn’t want to wake up.  I wanted to lie there until I grew the strength to face my worst fear.  Until I grew the confidence to walk out there, to love myself again when I felt anything other than beautiful or good. I felt disgusting, what was wrong with me that would make Remus feel the need to be with another?  No, I didn’t want to get up until I was healed, until time would reverse itself completely.

But nonetheless I got up, because Lily was worried and Lily was watching and Lily was there to hold my hand and reassure me that I was wonderful, and worthy of love.  That it was Remus.  My Remus.  Lucy’s Remus, it doesn’t matter.  I love him, I still do.  After all that happened, I wish love was something I could tear from me and leave behind, but it was at first a beautiful flower in my heart and now it is just a dead weed stuck in cracks.  I will never be able to get it out.

Lily silently sits me on the edge of the bed. She fixes my hair for me, and wipes at my cheeks, and gives me a tissue.  I blow into it, she throws it out.  She kisses my cheek and waits for me to get dressed.  

At last, we make our way through the sea of students and staff to the great hall.  The laughter of fellow students makes the lump in my throat all that much larger.  My hands begin to shake and so Lily holds it within her own.

“Look at me love,” She says, “Remus does not deserve ya after the shite he pulled.  Ya need to talk to him love, you need to break up with him yeah?  Feel the freedom in your new single life and get out there.  Paul said he’d snog ya, yeah?” I know she was trying to make me feel better, and it almost worked.  Almost.  But I was still very much in love with him, I don’t know if I can move on.  After knowing Remus so intimately, how could I?  Nonetheless I swallow my despair and nod slowly to her.  She lets go of my hands and we walk straight to the Gryffindor table.  Straight to the boys.

My heart swallowed itself whole when I caught sight of Remus.  He looked tired, exhausted even.  His skin pale, and he looked in pain.  The other boys didn’t look any more alive, but they were laughing with one another, though in a more sedated way.  Remus was in his own world, reading a muggle book I gave him a while ago.  He promised he’d tell me all about it and that we’d find a way to watch the muggle movies when we can.  We never will.

My sadness is suddenly replaced with an intense anger.  With rage and hurt I walk right up to the table, I stand behind Remus. The other boys look up at Lily and me with easy smiles, but they drop as they soon further dissect our appearance and with it our mood. Sirius goes to wolf whistle as if he was excited by the fact one of the boys were about to get hounded into, but Lily raises a hand and stops all sound at the boys part of the table.

I clear my throat.  He is still reading, he smiles to himself as he reaches a rather humorous part of the book.  

“Remus,” I call, my voice sickly sweet, it seems to shock Lily. She begins to walk back, not wanting to be in the middle of the spitfire.  But the boys seems to soak in the scene with amusement. Remus hums in response, and puts his thumb near the edge like he does when he is about to finish a line and then close the book, but I was above waiting now.

“Could you Remus, for 5 seconds perhaps give me more attention when I speak to you than some fucking book.  It’s like I’m talking to a godamn wall!’‘ I lose my temper near the end, and now half of the table was staring at us.  Remus doesn’t even bother to mark the page, he places the book down and whips around to me with wide eyes. The boys no longer looking humored at all, everyone is giving me odds looks.  I’ve never once acted this way with Remus, all our previous arguments were resolved rather quickly.

“Great,” I smile too big at him, then turn to the boys. Every word dripping sarcasm and fake calm. Remus only frowns more, his eyes darting across my face and than to Lily searching for an answer.

“Now, could you all leave us be or are you going to be obnoxious flies on said wall while I speak to my boyfriend for the little amount of time I have managed to grab his attention?” I grit out every word, as if fighting my anger, I did not mean to be so hurtful but I am very hurt myself.  Did the rest of boys know about Remus cheating?  Instead of leaving, they stare at me in shock, after some time of staring James goes to ask why I am being so rude but I cut him off.

“You know what?” My voice cracks, I am losing my resolve.  With every second I spend staring deeper into Remus’s eyes my anger fades into sadness.  A great sea of sadness.  “Never mind, I am being rude. All of you can continue to ignore me completely, Remus, my love,” My voice cracks once again and I will my anger to come back so that I may do what I have to next.  “You keep reading that book of yours and for the love of god don’t stop for anything, I mean don’t ever stop because what on earth could be of a more pressing matter?  And boys, keep your sweet asses locked in place because I do always forget how much of fucking arseholes the whole lot of you are!” Remus stands up abruptly and caresses my forearm, he wishes for us to talk somewhere more privately but I jump back at his touch.   

My lips curl up in a snarl “We’re over Remus!  You cheat!  You fucking liar!”  I yell loud enough for the whole of Gryffindor table to hear, my anger has run from me completely and now nothing is left but Remus’s eyes staring deep into mine.  

His eyes, as they well up with tears and dart around the room.  His eyes growing red and defensive at all the people looking back at him. His eyes meeting mine once more, his mouth falling open and closing again.  He goes to speak, but at last, I watch as he can’t hold the tears back anymore. He rubs aggressively at his eyes, and rushes out of the great hall.  His friends racing after him, not before Sirius shoots me a dirty look and James questions Lily with his eyes.  

And then it was done. The students begin to whisper behind hands and poke their fingers in our direction.  The great hall filling up once again with chatter and gossip, I feel the color drain from my face and every feeling I previously had becomes overtaken with grief.  It is over.  I have lost him.  After all this time, there is no love.

Lily catches me before I fall.  She is now the one to rush me through the doors of the great hall, but we are stopped short.  Stopped by the sound of horrible, horrible sobs and 3 boys trying their hardest to silence them.  To comfort him. No pain in that moment would come to compare to the miserable feeling I’d carry around after that night.  After seeing him lying there, body racked with sobs because of me.

Sirius looks up, he looks as though he is in pain as he bounces his leg and runs a hand through his hair.  He looks around, anywhere but his broken friend.  But then our eyes meet.  

He begins to walk over to us, Lily stands as my guard.  But nothing could protect me from the onslaught that is an angry Sirius Black...

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess @1975weasley​  @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain@nicodoesntexist

[dearjamesxo]

[drabble under cut]

Billy stands there, bear-chested and gorgeous, illuminated by streaks of midday sun streaming in from the windows above. His posture is rigid, on the defense before Leo has even had a chance to state why he's here.

After four months abroad, visiting his cousin, Alexander, Leo imagined his homecoming would be more than the cold, empty reception he received. If it wasn't for Spike taking it upon himself to retrieve Leo, Leo would still be wondering if something happened to Billy while he was away.

As it turns out, no, Billy is fine, all in one piece, he just didn't feel the need to let Leo know he's no longer interested in doing...whatever it was they were doing before Leo left. Leo refuses to label it as anything significant now that it's been made clear that it only ran deep on one side.

Jessie, face pained in sympathy, glances between them as Leo and Billy stand off, the silence thickening into a suffocating cloud that congests the room. From behind him, Spike squeezes Leo's shoulder. Leo feels his presence retreat, hears him clop up the stairs, narrowly followed by Jessie after she tries to offer Leo a sympathetic smile. The door creaks, a rush of sound from the street, creaks again, and Billy and Leo are alone.

Bea isn't around. In Colchester with Watson gathering witness statements, Spike mentioned on the trek back to the cellar. Well, that's what Leo was able to parse, anyway; Spike's cheeks were stuffed with confections Louise had a scullery maid assemble for him in a basket.

Their friendship might baffle many, but it makes complete sense to Leo.

Unlike Billy, who hasn't moved an inch or spoken a word since he rolled to his feet upon Leo's arrival. Leo can’t discern Billy’s expression, resting between aggressive and ashamed, as if he’s aware he’s done something awful but won’t apologize for it. And he has, he’s ripped open Leo’s chest and filled the cavity with so much bitterness and betrayal that Leo’s scarcely been able to draw a satisfying breath since he again set foot on British soil.

Leo desperately wants to hate Billy, wants to lash out and make Billy hurt as much as he’s hurting. But he can’t. Could never. Because he cares too deeply for the young man standing across from him that to hurt Billy would be to damage himself irreparably.

“Why?” Leo croaks when the silence becomes too much.

“Why what?” Billy says, fists clenching at his sides.

The harshness of his tone burns.

“You haven’t come to see me since I came back…” Leo looks away, can’t bear to watch Billy hate him for a reason Leo hasn’t been given. “I thought—”

“What? That I’d wait for you, just sit on a shelf doing nothing while you gallivant across Russia with your girlfriend?”

Leo’s head snaps up. “What are you talking about?”

Billy takes a step forward, eye blazing, ready for a fight, “I heard your Princess—” He spits the word, “Joined you on your holiday. That you n’ her were seen looking,” Here he uses his fingers to quote, “Madly in love. The perfect bloody pair, ay?”

“Where did you hear that?” Leo wonders, brows sinking in the middle.

“Who cares? It’s true, innit?”

Yes and no, Leo doesn’t say. Though not at all in love – at least to a degree that matters – he and Helena are remarkable at presenting themselves as the epitome of a love match. A fact Billy probably won’t appreciate hearing. Especially since he isn’t wrong that Helena was in St Petersburg, even if it was at the behest of Leo’s mother. The Queen believed it would do well for their public image that they be seen together. Again, a fact that Billy would bite his thumb at.

“Billy,” Leo’s voice shakes, afraid that what he has to say will be taken poorly, “You knew before that Helena and I have a duty we must fulfill. Together.” For a second, Billy looks thoughtful, eyes downcast and stance softening, “You said you didn’t care.” In an effort not to appear too affected, Leo straightens his back and juts his chin out, “If you’ve changed your mind, I think I deserve to be told. Not treated as a stranger to who you owe no explanation.”

Billy huffs, licks his lips and watches the ground as he crosses the room to his bed.

Leo trails him with his gaze, refrains from ranting as he wants to at Billy’s back. A back that Leo’s mapped the texture of with his lips and tongue, has seen bowed and arched in rapture, has felt the strength of under his palms as Billy rocked into him like the tide.

He missed Billy deliriously while he was gone, thought of little else to the point where Helena offered to rent him a strapping, blond man to use to work it out of his system. Leo didn’t, would never, but he did bring into his bed one of the toys Helena hid amongst her things, and fucked himself silly on it until he was able to do more than sulk over Billy’s absence.

Something in his expression must reveal where his thoughts traveled because when he refocuses, Billy’s features are slack and heated.

“Fuck.” Billy throws his hands up, rakes his fingers through his hair then scrubs over his face. He drops his arms and hits Leo with a fiery stare. “Just,” He growls, paces toward Leo, halfway back to his bed, toward Leo again to grab Leo by the shoulders and look him in the eye, “Did you fuck her?”

Leo’s hands fly up to frame Billy’s face, his gaze flickering between Billy’s eyes. He says firmly, “No. And I won’t, Billy, not until I have to, you know that.”

Billy’s voice is soft and defeated when he utters, “Do I?” He drops his forehead against Leo’s, runs his hands up to clutch Leo’s jaw and pull Leo into a quick, chaste kiss. “Jesus,” He whispers hoarsely, biting at Leo’s mouth, sweeping his tongue over the sting. “Do I know that, Leo?” A shuddering exhale and then he says, “How do I know you aren’t lying to keep me around?”

Billy continues nipping and soothing, chasing kisses as if he can’t help himself, wasted enough energy trying to resist tasting Leo as much as Leo wants to be devoured after so many weeks apart.

Putting a staying hand to Billy’s chest, Leo leans back to tell Billy very honestly, “You know me, you know I would never do that to you, to anyone.” Leo squeezes his eyes shut before he confesses, “I’m in love with you, William Marlott,” Billy gasps and his body sways into Leo’s. He captures Leo’s mouth in a dizzying performance of tongue and teeth. When they part for air, Leo quirks the tiniest smile, “You enormous bellend.”

In an arousing display of strength, Billy hooks his hands under Leo’s thighs and lifts, forcing Leo to wind his legs around Billy’s trim waist and his arms around Billy’s shoulders. Billy reaches up to give Leo a wet kiss and then turns on his heel, carrying Leo to his bed where he deposits Leo nonchalantly. Billy climbs after Leo, crawls up Leo’s body before insinuating himself between Leo’s legs, arms bracketing Leo’s head. Their noses bump, lips meet, and, at last, Billy quells the last of Leo’s doubt by saying, “I missed you so much, darling.”

Billy spends the next hour earning Leo’s forgiveness.

[mischiefandspirits]

7th Level Necromancy

D'ck goes to Gotham Cemetary with a diamond and a newly learned spell.

He wants his little brother back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure about this?” Wall asked, fidgeting with his tail as he glanced around at the gravestones they were passing.

“Yes. If you want to leave -”

Koriand’r bumped hips with D’ck. “We are here, yes. We want to help.”

“I’m just making sure you thought this through,” Wall agreed.

“And he’s worried about Bruce,” Danaë teased and slapped his back, making the tabaxi stumble.

“Yes, that too,” Wall said with a pout as he slowed down to walk next to Tim, who was staring at the ground and idly petting his familiar. “He’s going to be mad when he finds out you did this without telling him first.”

D’ck leaned towards Koriand’r and she wrapped her arm around him. “He’s going to be mad either way. At least this way he can’t stop me.”

���I’m just surprised he hasn’t noticed you digging through the necromancy books,” Danaë said.

“He stole some of Rapture’s books,” Tim said and D’ck clicked his beak at the preteen.

Carrie clicked back at him as Tim pressed his face into her feathers to muffle his snickers.

“I borrowed them,” D’ck corrected.

“Without asking,” Carrie croaked.

“She left them in the library!”

“Forget Bruce, I’m terrified to see what Raven does to you when she finds out,” Koriand’r chuckled.

“Names,” D’ck, Tim, and Carrie corrected automatically and the other three rolled their eyes.

“We’re in the middle of a graveyard,” Wall said, holding out his arms.

“The dead still have ears,” Tim argued. “Well, most of them.”

Wall opened his mouth to retort, then closed it as he realized what mausoleum was just ahead of them.

They stopped just outside the large stone doors, staring up at the inscription above.

Eternal residence of the House of Wayne. May the family rest in peace together, it read in Undercommon.

Koriand’r squeezed D’ck gently and Danaë grabbed his hand.

Tim, not for the first time, wondered if he should even be there. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t even a friend. He was just the kid who’d shoved his way into the Order of the Bats because Bruce needed someone to watch his back and keep him from taking too many risks. Not to mention that if D’ck was successful, there would be no reason for Tim to even be there anymore.

But D’ck had asked him if he wanted to come and it was Jason, the Robin. This could be his one chance to meet his hero. And the last time he’d be considered part of the Order.

Carrie, sensing Tim’s distress, shifted from her raven form into that of a bright red tarantula and climbed up onto his head. He ignored her as she started lining his horns in silk, though Wally sent the imp an unsettled look.

“Ready?” Koriand’r asked.

After taking a deep breath, D’ck nodded. “Let’s do this.”

He unlocked the doors and pushed them open.

Tim and Wall waited near the doors as the other three approached Jason’s burial vault. Koriand’r and Danaë glanced back at D’ck then grabbed the vault’s lid to pull it off as D’ck rolled a diamond between his fingers. He stepped up to the opening vault, then froze as Koriand’r gasped and Danaë covered her mouth with her hand.

“What?” Tim asked as Wall raced over to his friends’ sides.

“He’s gone,” D’ck muttered, staring into the empty vault. His talons scraped against the diamond as his fists clenched.

“Someone is going to pay,” Koriand’r growled, her eyes lighting up with holy green light and her hair becoming ablaze.

“Who would steal Jason’s body?” Tim asked, cautiously approaching to look into the tomb.

“I don’t know, but they’re going to regret it.” Danaë crackled her knuckles.

Shaking himself, D’ck turned to Wall. “B needs to know about this.”

Wall’s ears pressed against his head and his tail wrapped around his leg before he nodded and raced off in a streak of lightning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

D’ck grabbed Koriand’r’s hand to stop her furious pacing when he heard Alabaster’s hooves hit the cobblestone walkway outside the mausoleum. He looked between her and Danaë. “You guys should go.”

Koriand’r looked like she was going to argue, but backed down as she glanced towards the doorway. “You will tell me when you find out who did this.”

He nodded and she kissed his cheek before taking her leave.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Danaë added with a pat to his shoulder then followed.

Bruce didn’t look at the women as they passed each other in the doorway. He wasn’t in his Bat armor, but he might as well have been from the look on his face. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

“Would you have let me do it if I had told you?” D’ck countered, wings rising with his agitation.

“The dead should be allowed to rest.”

“Bullpix!”

“Ttich’lk Graisn!”

“Jay didn’t deserve to die like that! He deserves another chance!”

“A lot of people deserve another chance, but we can’t resurrect them all! Necromancy can lead -”

“He was my brother!”

“And he was my son!”

“I think Jason was alive when he was taken,” Tim said, stepping between the two before they could really get going and nervously glancing between them. “I, uh, found small scratches on the lid, like someone clawed at it from the inside to try and get it open. And there’re small chips of wood in the corners where they got stuck when someone tried to brush out the vault.”

The feather’s on D’ck’s wings fanned out even further. “You mean someone brought Jay back when he was still in his coffin! And sealed in the vault!”

“Let me see,” Bruce growled, marching over to the vault.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hee hee hee hee hee hee HAHAHA!”

Jason didn’t make a sound when the crowbar came down on him once again. He didn’t react at all. He just stared into the darkness behind his eyelids and preyed to Barbatos that it would end, either because Batman finally arrived or -- more realistically -- Joker just killed him.

“How’d that one feel, pumpkin?” the draegloth cooed, crouching down next to Jason. He grabbed Jason’s head in the large hand of one of his upper arms while the smaller hand of the matching lower arm wrapped around the boy’s neck. When Jason didn’t react, Joker dug his claws in, drawing blood. “Come on, boy blunder, don’t be like that.”

When that still failed to get a reaction, he slammed Jason’s head into the ground and stood up.

“Kids these days,” he snarled before cackling and wandering off.

Jason heard him light something then move to the door of the cabin.

“Okay, kiddo, I gotta go. It's been fun though, right? Well, maybe a smidge more fun for me than you. I'm just guessing since you're being awful quiet. Anyway, be a good boy. Finish your homework and be in bed by nine. And, hey… please tell the big man I said hello.” Joker gave a cackling howl then shut the door to the cabin.

Jason opened his eyes as the howl faded to silence. He rolled over his shoulder, slipping his feet through the loop of his arms to bring them in front of him. Slowly, he crawled towards the door. It took time, but eventually he reached it. He grabbed the handle, but the door wouldn’t open no matter how he pushed or pulled. After hours -- or minutes? Seconds? -- he gave up and slumped down with his back against the door. He looked up to see the fuse of a bomb slowly burning away.

He closed his eyes as the last of the fuse burned away.

W…

…

a…

…

k…

…

e…

…

…

…

u…

…

p…

He jerked up, hitting his head on something hard.

“What the feg?” he groaned, rubbing his forehead and staring into the darkness surrounding him. He pulled down the blanket covering him and reached out to feel the wooden planks inches above his face. He ran his hands along the wood as he traced the walls of the box he was trapped in.

A shiver went down his back as realized it was a coffin.

He kicked at the lid and felt around him when it didn’t open. He found a dagger underneath the blanket -- burial shroud, he realized before shoving down the thought -- and dug it out. He started hacking at the lid of the coffin, slowly creating a hole. He was relieved that dirt didn’t fall through the gap, though it was tempered by the fact no light was coming through the gap either.

Eventually, he carved out a big enough hole for him to reach through. On the other side, he found solid stone.

“Feg,” he huffed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A burial vault! He wasn’t just inside a coffin, but sealed in a burial vault!

Roll athletics: 4+5-4 = 5 Roll athletics: 17+5-4 = 18 Roll athletics: 3+5-4 = 4

He took a moment to pull himself back together then tried to push the lid off, only for his hands to slide across it. He growled and shifted down so his shoulders were closer to the hole. He tried to push the lid again and managed to lift it just enough to slide it over a crack. “Come on.” He tried to grab the crack, but his fingers slipped and his nails scratched across the stone. He yanked his hands back with a hiss and stuck his fingers in his mouth. He closed his eyes and stretched back out. “HELP!”

He listened for a response then yelled again.

Then again.

And again.

He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around himself. “Help, please.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time, he woke to darkness. He hesitantly reached out and cursed when he realized nothing had changed. He tried to grab the crack again, more carefully this time, and managed to get his fingers into it.

Roll athletics: 12+5-3 = 14 Roll athletics: 16+5-3 = 18 Roll athletics: 11+5-3 = 13 Roll athletics: 6+5-3 = 8 Roll athletics: 19+5-3 = 21

He tugged at the lid, but couldn’t get enough force behind it. He put his shoulders near the hole again and his next pull opened the crack a little more, allowing him to slip his hands through it. He grabbed onto it fully and tried to tug at the lid, but it wasn’t enough. He tried to brace himself against the walls of the coffin to make his next pull stronger, but all that managed to do was drag the coffin up against the wall of the burial vault. Though, maybe that was for the best as his next pull had enough force behind it to create an opening big enough for him to fit through.

Mindful of the jagged edges of the hole he made in the coffin, he climbed out of the grave to find himself in a mausoleum. “Shit, someone really went all out in the burying me alive thing, huh?”

He looked at the lid of the burial vault to see an Underdark bat pup nesting. Circling the image were the words Jason Wayne ~ Beloved son, brother, friend ~ May the Dark Knight Barbatos watch over you.

“Jason Wayne?” he muttered, confused. Who was that and why was he in their grave?

… Wait, what was his name? Was… Was he Jason Wayne?

He tried to think of… anything really regarding his past, but there was nothing. Nothing before waking up in the coffin.

Hesitantly, he -- Jason? -- looked back inside the burial vault to see if there was anything that could explain what was going on. Just inside the vault was a set of elven chain and a pair of shortswords while the coffin held the burial shroud and dagger as well as an odd-looking boomerang, a brown wooden ring with two cuddling white foxes on the head, a topaz statuette of a hound, and a totem made from two fangs and three red feathers bound together with twine.

He pulled out the statuette and totem and turned them over in his hands. They felt familiar to him, their magic resonating with his own, but none of the familiarity carried over to his head. He tucked them both into his pocket then went to the door of the mausoleum.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he wasn’t staying there. He needed to… to…

Find him.

He needed to find his dad.

“Your highness?”

“Speak,” Talia said, not looking away from where her son was training in the courtyard below.

“We’ve found something that might be of interest to you. Our spies have located a boy living on the streets of Gotham who bears a striking resemblance to the Robin.”

“And this matters to me, why?”

“They checked and the boy’s grave is empty.”

She watched her son for a minute as she considered the information. “Bring him to me.”

“Right away.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This theoretically takes place in the same universe as Children of Dionysus, but I've since reworked the character sheets for all the characters and haven't checked to see if that story's still accurate. I'm also trying something different by listing the rolls in the story. IDK if I like it or not so feedback is appreciated.

[scullyverse]

Haunted Eyes

I have no idea where this idea for this ficlet came from. But here you go, just a little something different. Written in 2nd person POV.

Also available to read on AO3 

This has become a routine and the familiarity floods you with arousal. Whenever she has a tough day at work she comes home and takes her frustration out in the only way she knows how. And you are always ready for her.

Stella/Scully || Smut || 2.4k words || Rating E (Explicit for smut)

You don’t hear her come in. You never do. She’s so light-footed and the constant buzz of the shower washes away any chance of you hearing the door open and her clothes hitting the cold tiles.

It’s not until you feel her arms wrapped around you that you are alerted to her presence, your body jumping slightly. But your fear is instantly replaced with something a little more pleasurable when you feel her pushing you softly against the shower wall, your naked breasts making contact with the tiles and making you shiver.

This has become a routine and the familiarity floods you with arousal. Whenever she has a tough day at work she comes home and takes her frustration out in the only way she knows how. And you are always ready for her. You feel her body press up against yours, the spray of the shower rolling between you and you can feel a steady stream of water fall down your back and slip between your ass.

She doesn’t say a word, as you already know what she wants. You turn your head to rest your cheek against the tiles, raising your hands to rest above your head, her confident fingers gripping your wrists tightly together, holding them against the wall. Your thighs are already trembling, a whimper leaving your lips when you feel her wet curls rub against your ass as she pushes her centre into you so her weight is holding you in something of an embrace, trapped between her hot skin and the cold staleness of the bathroom tiles.

Your eyes search for her but you know you won’t be able to see anything other than the occasional flick of blonde hair. But you can feel her. She’s already everywhere. Her hand is suddenly right where you need it, you are unaware of its travels and only feel it when she cups you, cradling your swollen lips in the palm of her hand. You are already ready for her, it never takes your body long to show her how much you need her.

Her breath is hot against your neck as she licks your skin, brushing the copper hair that was threatening to stick to your skin off your neck. Your eyes flicker closed and you are lost in the feelings of wet, hot and soft, your brain becoming foggy. Whether it’s from the steam of the hot water or the way her middle finger slips between your folds gathering your sticky desire with a low growl of approval that makes you shiver, you’re unsure.

You get lost in the way she teases you, how her finger dips inside your heat, your muscles trying to pull it deeper before she pulls away and you huff out your displeasure. Though that only makes her tease you more so you have learnt to stay quiet, bite your inner cheek until it bleeds in a hope she will see you’re being good for her.

After what feels like eternity, you can’t take it anymore, your knees are shaking and your clit is begging for attention, needing her touch as badly as you need to breathe. You whine, spreading your legs wider as you turn your head, attempting to catch her gaze. But she’s not in the mood tonight, her hand gripping your wrists tighter before she slams them back against the wall, removing her finger from you, your inner muscles crying out and leaking arousal in desperation. Her hips thrust hard and suddenly you are once again completely flush with the wall, her fingers pulling on your hair and tilting your head back with just enough pressure to not be too painful. She knows your weaknesses all too well.

With your head tilted back, the water runs down your hair and over your forehead, but suddenly you see her eyes and everything fades away. You only glimpse them for a moment and it’s enough to haunt you with their hunger. You wish you could see them again but she doesn’t give you the chance. Your hair is released and you rest your forehead against the tiles in relief, panting against the wall, your fingers twitching in her grasp.

Her body covers you like a second skin, you feel the hardness of her nipples against your back but it takes you by surprise when you feel her shift, her legs widening as you look down, her feet resting just beside yours. Her hips start moving against your ass, the slight scratchiness of her curls bliss against your skin. This is new though, this isn’t what usually happens and there’s a part of you that feels both intrigued and uneasy.

You feel her lips on the back of your neck, teeth scraping skin and it sends your head spinning, your thoughts unclear as you tune yourself into how hot and wet her tongue is, even against the stream of the water. She bites your skin harder, her knees dipping, you feel them bump against your own as she gives a few harder thrusts, your own body rocking against the tiles with a grunt.

It’s not until you hear her whine, that heavenly noise so close to your ear, that you feel movement on your lower back, the tense muscles of her arm and you feel the rings on her fingers digging firmly into your ass. You assume her fingers are inside her own heat, using your body’s attributes to fuck herself and it’s enough to nearly make you come. Nearly. You need to touch her but her fingers are so tight against your wrists, her nails digging in when she senses your intentions, her teeth sharp into your skin.

Her hips are rocking rapidly against her hand, in turn forcing your own to roll with her as you arch your back to give her better contact. She hums her approval deep in her chest, the vibrations rumble through your back as her knees dip again, tickling the back of your own. Your eyes close as you tilt your head and bite into your upper arm, both of them pulled high up above your head. God, you don’t know how much longer you can take this, your thighs are already sticky and there is a constant gnawing between your legs that beats rapidly with your pulse and every nudge against the wall makes you even more aware of how close you are. It’s almost painful.

She starts moving with more force, the movement of her wrist nestled between your ass more noticeable. But it’s her breathing you feel, hot and urgent against you, her lips open and resting lightly on your skin. You know she’s close and all you can do is bite into your arm harder, stifling your own moans in order to not miss a single one of hers. Her nails dig painfully into your wrist as her hips shake erratically and you feel her knees dip for the last time. You suck in a breath, knowing she is mere moments away from rapture and you don’t want to miss a second. A whimper escapes your mouth, even though you have your skin bitten firmly between your teeth and when she slams her hips against you, her own teeth make their mark on your neck.

It’s more primal and raw than anything you have experienced, and with your eyes closed and your chest stilled from holding your breath, you take everything in, feeling the all too familiar spark pumping through your veins. When you hear her moan that she’s coming loudly against your skin, a new hot gush of her arousal squirting against your ass as her hips rocked sharply against her hand, succumbing to her euphoria, you’re suddenly there with her.

Your orgasm takes you by complete surprise and your mind is unprepared, completely giving itself to your body that seems to know instinctively what it needs to do. You cry out with a high pitched squeal, something foreign to you, as you feel your body convulse and the painful pressure between your legs throbbing and releasing along with her, both of you riding the waves together. Your fingers ball into fists as you shake, arousal dripping from your centre, appearing in anticipation to be devoured only to be washed away by the water.

Her breath is heavy and you don’t even realise she is playing between your folds, feeling you pulse under her fingers until she brushes your swollen bud once, sliding it between two fingers. But by the time your mind catches up she has already pulled away, her hand resting on your hip as she finally lets go of your wrists.

You keep your arms in place, your mind still too foggy to register anything going on around you. When the world finally comes back into focus, you blink slowly and lower your arms, a dull ache settling in your shoulders and you notice the heavy weight of her behind you is gone. You miss it instantly.

Panting, you rest your cheek against the shower, your legs wobbly and it takes all the strength that she didn’t suck out of you to push yourself off the wall. It’s then that you finally see her. Her head tilted up to the water washing down her face, slicking her blonde hair down her back, her eyes open with her eyelashes doing the best they can to shield her from the spray.

Her eyes are haunted again. She’s watching you, her breasts heaving as she still struggles to gather herself. If it wasn’t for that and the flush of arousal splashed across her cheeks, you wouldn’t be able to piece together that it was her that just completely relinquished herself to that holy ache of pleasure against you. You are in awe of how she can stand so calm and controlled when your body feels so weak, like it could crumble under its own weight.

She’s still watching you, like a predator stalking prey and the look slightly unnerves you. You know you can’t approach her when she’s like this. Like a spring coiled so tight it could snap so you stand still, your arms falling to your sides. The water is getting colder, the hot water system struggling and you start to shiver, teeth chattering, goosebumps erupting on your skin. All she does is turn her back on you, quickly washing herself with an elegance that’s not lost on you, her ass clenching slightly when she pulls the cloth between her legs. And all you can do is watch, the water becoming ice against your skin.

You don’t see her eyes again as she steps out of the shower, grabs her towel and leaves her suit laid perfectly over the toilet seat. Shivering again, you quickly duck under the spray, jolting when she leaves you with nothing but cold water so you quickly wash yourself with hardly a fragment of her elegance before you turn the shower off. There is a sudden silence throughout the house and it's deafening. Wrapping a towel around your body you turn off the light, grabbing her suit before making your way to the bedroom, following only the moonlight from the open window above the bed as a guide.

She is there the moment you come in, waiting for you, watching you like the prey you are that just walked so unknowingly into her den. Despite the cold you feel your body grow hot, cursing yourself with how easily she readies you. You notice she hasn’t dried herself, her skin still dripping and her blonde hair looking almost black against her skin as she takes her suit. There is a process of her placing it onto the chair, brushing it free of wrinkles and your body moves on its own and without any knowledgeable thoughts you are on the bed, on your hands and knees, presenting yourself to her with your head bowed. You are aware of what she needs. What has pushed her to this point you never ask, but you know you can do this for her and that she needs it. That’s enough for you.

And as if you could ever disappoint her.

Your swollen lips are already sticky again as you spread your legs, feeling the bed dip from her weight. Normally she likes to watch your face, but in these moments she avoids your eyes, you barely even see her. You only feel her. But when you close your eyes, her fingers suddenly enter you and you can see her haunted eyes. You don’t question it, only let a moan tumble from your lips, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly in white knuckles.

You’re already close again, your body so tightly linked with hers that it can’t help but succumb to her, humming with a calling that, with a broken whimper from her own lips, you know she can feel it too.

The night is long and filed with exchanges that both take your breath away and challenge your sense of awareness. She’s insatiable. Her hunger is intense and even after the many orgasms she pulls from your willing body, you are instantly ready for her again. By the time you lay panting on the bed,  legs shaking and body sticking to the cotton sheets, her eyes have softened. She sits up and watches you, sweat replacing water that now rolls down her skin in droplets.

You can’t feel anything else but her weight on your stomach, her own thighs quivering against you. She’s struggling to keep herself up and you finally feel like she is letting you in.

This always comes. You are expecting it and it takes you only seconds to reach out for her, feeling confident she isn’t going to push you away and she all but collapses on top of you, the wind getting knocked from your chest for a moment before you hold her. She doesn’t speak. She never does, and probably won’t until morning. But she lets you hold her and that’s enough. Her head is buried into your neck, your skin sticking together and it feels awkward when she moves, but you only pull her tighter.

It takes only minutes until her breathing becomes even against your collar bone, her weight heavy but comfortable atop you and you are there with her, relenting to your exhaustion and joining her in sleep where her eyes are never haunted.

[diagnosed-by-doyle]

Confession at Midnight

Commissioned by Anonymous ❤

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x Reader

Genre: fluff/smut

Kinks: sweet lovemaking

Word Count: 1746

~~~~~

Finally inside the coach and on the way back to the mansion, he couldn’t help but watch you start to nod off on the opposite side of the carriage. The sight made him sigh. Just a few minutes ago, he could count at least 3 men watching you at the same time, and now you start to fall asleep with another one right in front of you. You really need to be more aware of your surroundings.

Even though seeing those men gaze at you with hungry eyes infuriated him, he couldn’t really say that he blamed them. You were at the age which most women married at.

Ugh. Connecting those three things--other men, marriage, and you-- To put it frankly, it pissed him off. If he doesn't say something to you soon, who knows what kind of creep will take you out from under him?

“Hey, knabbeltje, wake up. It won’t take long to get home.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes to try and keep yourself awake. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’m just really tired.”

He went back to staring out the window. It was no wonder why you were tired. You’d been working hard for several hours to help him with the gallery. Maybe he should’ve just let you sleep. Seeing you like that was kind of cute.

You noticed him staring out the window. With it so dark out, it was unlikely that he could see anything unless, of course, this was another perk of his vampirism. The light of the moon only highlighted the dirt road and grass that surrounded the two of you, so you doubted that he was actually looking at anything in particular. “What are you thinking about?”

Your innocent question made him turn in surprise. You were never really one to pick up on when someone was thinking deeply about something. But since you were asking, was now the right time to tell you? Hmph, now was as good a time as any. In this case, the sooner he tells you, the less likely it’ll be that someone like Arthur would come along and take you. 

He scooted over on the bench. “Come here, hondje.”

~~~~~

“Hm? Alright.” You switched seats, being careful to not lose your balance. “You wanted to talk about something?”

“That’s right. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

You looked up at him with those big, innocent eyes, a hint of curiosity lingering in their depths, as you waited for him to continue.

He turned his body to face you and met your gaze directly. “I’ve had my eyes on you for a while.”

You were suddenly glad for the darkness. Hopefully he wouldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. Even though you were pretty sure what he meant, it could also mean a variety of other things. “What do you mean?”

The sound of his chuckle reached your ears. “Of course you wouldn’t get it right away, hondje.” Your breath caught in your throat when he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear. “I love you, ____.”

You felt your eyes widen at his confession. At most, you’d expected him to say that he liked you, but to hear that he loves you took all of this to another level. “Theo…”

“The thought of another man taking you for himself makes me sick. You don’t have to give me an answer right away, but--”

You pressed your lips against his, effectively silencing him. Realizing what you’d done, you quickly pulled back. As you explained yourself, your voice was quiet with embarrassment. “I love you too. I have for a while now, I’ve just been too shy to say it.

Once your words sank in, he suddenly wished he’d brought up this conversation a lot sooner. He breathed your name into the space separating you from him. 

He took your chin between his warm, gentle fingers. This time, it was Theo who initiated the kiss. What started off as something sweet and delicate quickly became more intense as the kiss was built up by the passion the two of you shared.

Theo pushed his tongue into your mouth as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of your blouse. His lips trailed down the front of your neck deliciously slowly, lightly nipping at your skin along the way. 

The art dealer kissed down to the exposed part of your chest. Your heart was racing with such speed that it caused him to pause. Any thoughts he had of ending things there were forgotten one you raked your fingers through his hair and moaned so sweetly, “Don’t stop.”

The coach jerked to a stop, and the driver announced that you’d arrived at the mansion. Theo muttered a curse as both of you fumbled to fix your blouse and straighten yourselves out.

“Wipe that dirty look off your face until we can get someplace we won’t be disturbed.”

Though your cheeks went red at the thought of what you’d do once you got there, you did your best to put on a straight face. It would be so embarrassing for someone else to see you like this!

Theo, who was pulling you along with a tight grip on your wrist, decided that his room was much closer, so he led you there. With the hour being so late, it was unlikely that anyone was awake. That was probably why you didn’t bump into anyone on the way. God, were you both thankful for that!

Once he pulled you in and locked the door behind you, you didn’t even get a chance to look around before he tugged you close and gave you another needy kiss, his tongue once again invading your mouth.

Just when you were starting to get back into it, he suddenly pulled back. “Get on the bed.”

You did just that, and he followed behind you after removing a few layers of his own clothing and kicking off his shoes. While you were sitting up, he unbuttoned your blouse again--this time he took his time doing it as he distracted you by kissing the spot just beneath the curve of your jaw. He pulled off your blouse and unhooked your bra then tossed them both aside haphazardly. 

Theo guided you down onto your back and began worshiping your body with his lips. He paid special attention to your perky nipples, sucking harshly at them then soothing the pain through massaging them with his tongue.

“M-Mmh… Theo, I want to see you too.”

He sat up over your hips and unbuttoned his shirt. Once he realized you were staring at him, his lips curved into a smirk. He watched your reaction as he shrugged it off, pleased at how intently you were admiring his body.

You couldn’t help but allow your hand to reach out and glide down his muscular body. Theodorus van Gogh was the prime example of a man blessed with good looks.

“No need to drool, hondje. I’ll give you what you want.” He started to unbuckle his belt, which pulled your gaze lower. It was then that you noticed the large outline of his member straining against the inside of his trousers. When he finally got his trousers down enough to be able to free it, it sprang to attention.

Theo backed up between your legs and spread your thighs apart after flipping your skirt up over your hips. His smirk widened when he pushed two fingers into your folds. “You love the sight of me so much that you’re soaked. You really are like a hondje, getting so excited like that.”

“Stop calling me that!” Being teased that way at a time like this was both embarrassing and infuriating.

“Then you should stop making it so easy for me,” he chuckled. Your anger immediately dissipated when you felt him press against you as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Now relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You took a deep breath and relaxed the muscles in your body, especially the ones around your core. Once you were certain you were ready, you gave him a small nod.

He slowly pushed in, stretching your walls apart to fit his substantial size.

Theo felt so amazing inside of you. He filled you so completely that it was difficult to think about anything besides him.

Once he was all the way in, he pulled out. You were about to complain, but he pushed right back in with some force behind his thrust. For your first time with each other, he wanted to make sweet love to you. 

He continued these slow, hard thrusts, and when he got into a steady rhythm, he leaned down over you, supporting himself with his forearms. Theodorus captured your lips in a passionate kiss then pulled back so he could look you in the eyes. His piercing blue gaze was so intense, it felt like he could see into your soul. “I...love you...____.” He uttered the words between hot, heavy breaths as he worked to reach the deepest part of you over and over again.

Your heart melted at the sincerity of his words. “Mmmm, I...love you too, Theo--!”

Soon, you could feel the familiar knot tighten in your stomach. You were going to reach the peak of your pleasure soon, and you couldn’t do anything to hold it back. You threw your arms over Theo’s shoulders and clenched the hair above the nape of his neck in tight fists. “Ahh! Theo, I--!”

He could feel your walls tightening around him wonderfully. “I--Ngh! I know. It’s okay, I’m almost there too.”

A few more thrusts, and you were coming undone completely. You threw your head back and cried out in ecstasy, not caring about who would hear you, as your core throbbed deliciously. “Ohhh! God, yes!”

“That’s not my name, ____.” To show that he was serious, he began to thrust more roughly than before. He was struggling to hold on, but he so badly wanted to hear you scream his name.

Now extremely sensitive, the rapturous feeling made you shout. “Theo!!”

“Mmh, that’s it--!” He was able to pull out just before his body tensed up. He groaned in pleasure as his thick white seed shot out onto your skirt.

Once he caught his breath, he took your face in his hand and gave you a tender kiss. “Ik hou van je. Don’t forget that.”

[daredevile]

Lumière

Summary: Lost in a timeless world of grief and sorrow, Bucky longs for a guiding light to lead him through the dark.

Warnings: Angst, character death, miscarriage 

A/N: This one's for @ussgallifreyfics‘ writing challenge and my prompt was 'it never hurts to keep looking for sunshine.'

The engine lulls into a hushed purr and he just wants to scream. Destroy every obstacle in his path. Veer left into the serene tides below the bridge - because at least then, he'd be in control of his end.

Dusk befalls upon weary skies and lights around him twinkle awake as nature unfolds into its own Starry Night. He strains his neck over the fluorescent hues of reds and yellows, knuckles burning white against the frayed leather wheel. And all he sees is miles and miles of vehicles sprayed onto eternal roads.

A part of him regrets it. Succumbing to those longing urges his subconscious sweeps into his slumber. As if Zeus, himself, branded his soul to the Underworld, casting the burden of reality upon the boulder he's cursed to bear till the thread of life ceases.

His gaze flickers to the stream below, the swaying of water had always embraced him with a sense of tranquillity - now, waves crash against the green, forever seized by the currents. He wants to escape too. Defeated by the cards the universe forced into his hands because he can't continue living hopeful lies expecting the bliss that'll never arrive.

The window rolls down and the mighty thrust of winter winds rush inside for warmth. His jaw clenches as the breeze trespasses his solitude and he considers abandoning the car because, much like the river beneath, he's imprisoned to this obscure sea of time.

Truth be told, he has no destination. Merely weaved into the plane of existence long enough till his will to endure the agony, wanes. It's the least he owes her.

The abrupt knocking on glass captures his attention. Palms flat against the window, a baby girl - no more than three - lights up when he catches sight of her big doe eyes. And for the first time in months, a smile willingly appears on his face, his shoulders ease and he's forgotten all the grief and sorrow the world has to offer.

Her hands extend from the seatbelt, motioning him to come closer. He sends her a small wave before her mother places a bottle of milk within her grasp and she lowers back into the seat. All he sees is the crown of her head bouncing up and down before their car inches forward and the feeling of numbness tunnels its path into his heart, again.

Right as the door opened, his hands snaked around your waist, chin resting atop your shoulder - and before you could face him, his lips pressed against the soft skin. For a second, your heart stopped and his laugh sent butterflies to your stomach. Swaying along to his humming, you leaned back into his soothing embrace.

"Ok, babe. Close your eyes."

"What're you doing Bucky?" You asked as he twirled you back into his arms. He bit back a grin, eyes instinctively fluttering towards the guest bedroom.

"Thought I asked you to close your eyes?" He whispered while you tried turning around, warm hands brushed past your lips as he covered your eyes. He paused in front of the guest room, guiding your hand to the doorknob before murmuring into your ear.

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

A gasp escaped from your lips in shock. Overwhelmed by the drastic modification of the room, you turned towards Bucky in wonder. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, shirt unbuttoned and hair dishevelled - the result of a day's work. He chuckled under your gaze, eager to show you every little thing he'd made.  

"Now, I know we said we'd do this together, but I wanted to surprise you."

"Bucky - it's perfect."

"Just wait till you see these!" He uncovered two pairs of baby shoes from the drawers, holding them in one hand each with the most radiant smile you'd ever seen and the pure gesture melted your heart.

Noticing your glossy eyes and loss for words, he pulled you into his chest, tracing calming patterns on your back. When you placed your lips on his jaw, he sighed with content, his hands caressing over your baby bump.

"We're gonna be great parents, I know it."

No. He forcefully wipes the tears trailing down his face - he cannot descend into this chasm of nothing, again. His hands seize the wheel because control brings even the smallest ray of sunshine to his thunderstorm.

He lost track of time a few months ago. Solely adrift in space, floating away to the horizon of forever. Because what's the point anyways? Everything is always taken from him. Ripped into a million shreds of distant memories. But, emptiness always welcomes him.

A faint melody travels through the steel bubble of a nearby car - an elderly couple humming along to classics from their time. He envies their rapture, not troubled by the miles of traffic ahead, but it fades into a forlorn desire that slips away from his fingertips.

The house was mute, dreading the silence that has fallen within these walls. Gloomy hallways, stale food and sealed doors. The living room had divided itself into two and it was only an exchange of reserved glances and sharp breaths.

"Y/N, there's nothing you could've - " It was anger. It was confusion. It was a cry for help. No amount of good would ever mend the puncture in his heart, he didn't need stitches - all he asked for was a band-aid.

"Stop. Just - please don't."

Neither of you had entered that room again, afraid to get caught in a realm of imaginary optimism where everything will be normal. The air was suffocating, mournful and miserable ever since the visit to the hospital yesterday. None of those meaningless words of sympathy and pity went into your minds.

Nothing he could do or say could ease the pain. And so, he stood up, slipped into his coat and reached for the door. His eyes found two tiny pairs of shoes laying right next to his and after a moment, he walked out with a heavy heart.

Time was what we need, he thought. That he'd return in a couple of days and somehow they'd get through this together. But time is funny. It enjoyed tearing him apart, taunting his life. It reminded him that he's alive and his baby girl isn't.

It's the thunder of engines revving that brings him to his senses. No matter how much he tried convincing himself to see you, his instincts begged otherwise. And every time he's restrained to the car, the streets always moulded into paths towards you, yet he steered to the opposite. But now, it's the least he owes her.

The barren streets unfurl in front of him, colours glossing over every circle and edge as he drives by the tiny shops. The world ahead fades from noir to pastel, eager eyes devouring every light. The steel bubble of the car bursts and he's exposed to the misfortunes of the universe as the door locks.

He skips over the creaky step, fist raised against the wooden door. A sense of familiarity washes over him and he knocks twice. It's mere seconds before the door swings open and your stoic expression is all that greets him.

Hesitant, he shuffles his foot back - a minute response to which a veil of tears glazes your eyes. His hands naturally guide you into his embrace, a wave of relief settles inside when you rest your head against his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky. I really am, it's my fault - " You whisper into his shirt.

"No, Y/N it's no one's fault. What happened to us wasn't fair. But, we don't have to forget and move on to survive. Just please...please promise me you'll stay - we'll help each other. Together." He stares into your eyes, searching for any doubt, but his worries dissolve into serenity when a soft smile tugs on your lips.

"I promise, Bucky."

[grimweaver]

                                                             ~*~

            Lucien and I were met first with a washover of festive sounds in the streets, muffled no longer once the heavy doors of the smith shop groaned outward; a few common percussion and wind instruments playing along with loud, happy-drunk singing, laughing, and cheering. As it had at roughly the same time the previous nights, the air was beginning to thicken with a mostly pleasant mix of the usual scents; smoke billowing from grills and clay ovens, charred and baked goods, perfumes, and hard-partying bodies.

            Immediately in front of us was a little more than a dozen laborers that were sent out for us, and standing out amid them was a stout figure— a bosmer with slicked back brown hair, wearing a brown cotton vest over a white peasant shirt that was tucked into dark brown capris, and a pair of doeskin shoes. He gave himself away when he bounced up and down as he pointed at us, shouting:  “LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!”  It was Dorandil, assuming the role that he had already been playing since the start of it all, except under a different name: Norabil Windthorn. “  BY AZURA! BY AZURA! BY AZURA!  It’s the G—!” One of the female workers gave the bosmer a firm and deserving smack upside the head. At least he had enough brain cells to understand the message in the scolding strike and come up with a decent correction.  “...Great Dancing Duo !” he finished, rubbing the back of his head, then joined the workers in helping Jahruu and Hennia with their things.

              “Ah!  Master Atterius and the lovely Lady Nelvani !” the voice of Ocheeva called out from our left. We turned to see four people in bronze scale armor, with burgundy cloth wrapped around their shoulders and faces, and draped over their heads to cast dark shadows over their eyes—not an inch of flesh could be seen.

Each individual called out their name.

            From Ocheeva: “Stone-Scale!”

            From Teinaava: “Ebon-Claw!”

            From Bremman: “Denarius Saxtus!”

            From Farwil: “Sreth Rellintilys!”.

            In perfect unison, they saluted by pounding their right fists against their chests, bowing their heads, and shouting together: “ At your service! ” 

            It attracted some attention from some celebrants nearby. Those who understood that the masked man was Atterius whirled completely around and cheered ecstatically as they pointed at him. Lucien gave them a smile and wave, then urged us all to get a move on before some real crazies started coming out of the woodworks to commence a blocking and grappling frenzy— that was part of the reason why he wanted us to leave so early. The other part was the fifteen-minute walk quickly becoming a forty-minute one— there was very little flow control on the public grounds, so the pathways had become a jumbled mess far worse than anything we had encountered before— people, shoulder to shoulder, jumping and bumping into each other as they threw marigold petals into the air and at each other. The vendors were a bit more aggressive in their efforts to grab attention from people walking by—instead of just sitting behind a counter, they were actually getting in front of people and intentionally blocking their path. Thankfully, our ‘bodyguards’ did an excellent job of getting a pathway cleared for us and shielding us from an onslaught of zealous Atterius fans.

            When we got through the bulk of the crowd, just a little ways past the Guild Traders, a cool flush of gratefulness went through my being and relieved the swell of rage mixed with nausea— our amusement of the inner-city partying had disintagrated when we entered the outer rim of the bulk, where the cloud of stagnant air had a mild undertone of bile, curry flatulence, and undiluted beer-sweat.

            “Thank All the Powers !” I blasted as I gasped for air. I owed gratitude to military aquatics training as well, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hold my breath for 2-3 minutes at a time. “A second longer in all of that and one of you would be wearing my eggs and bacon!”

            “T’h-h-yeah!” Farwil chuckled with a cough. “Agh… I think we’d all have worn each other’s breakfasts!”

             “There they are,” Lucien said, pointing to a group gathered near the first lamppost beyond the market square. All but one kept their gaze fixed on the plateau ahead— an effeminate male with long and wavy platinum-blonde hair, wearing a robe made of quilted white silk, jeweled rings on every finger, layers of necklaces made of gold and glass beads, and a steel-plated belt over a dark red sash. He motioned to the rest and pointed back at us. “By the Black Nights of Boralis! What breathtaking beauty!” he cried out, and that’s when I knew who it was:  Vicente!

            “Speak for yourself…  Fabiere ,” Lucien replied, suppressing a chuckle he looked him up and down. 

            “Oh!” Vicente blasted, grappling at the shirt of his robe. “Are you talking about this old thing?? It’s  so-o-o-o  last week. And this sand-caked bird nest that used to be lovely locks of pure sunshine??” He fussed with his hair and looked at it with feigned disgust, before daintily slapping it away from his face with a light, hauty grunt. “I am rather embarrassed by it all… but thank you!” 

            There was an eruption of laughter all around, even Lucien couldn’t hold back his. Vicente was doing a good job of getting into his character. 

             “Astaunne is right,” Gabrelle said. “You two look amazing !”

            The whole group voiced their agreement.

             “Indeed… Nine still my heart,” Farwil said, “you… um… no others among us… could accentuate the finery so well.”

            “Thank you, Sreth,” I replied, trying not to think about all the unshareable things that were probably going through his head, and turned to face him directly. “ Please  … promise me that you’ll stick to the plan and remember  everything  instilled in you...by… um… your training at the Fighters Guild—our survival depends on it.”

            “I’ll promise to  try ,” Farwil replied, returning the back-pat in a respectful friend-and-comrade sort of way that did not give me the creepy-crawly cringes. “I’ll do what I must, if I have to do it. I’ll not forget the good point you made… about… our ‘top priority’.”

            “Ah… right. Well that’s… good.” I sighed. “I just… that thing I was going to tell—“

             I was interrupted by Lucien nudging me with his hip.

             “What??” I snarled at the Speaker, and I was cheeky enough to glare up at him too. “I wasn’t going to actually say it yet.”

            “Say what?” Farwil asked.

            “Never you mind now. Just… just try to stay alive, please… please. I will… I will tell you after uh…  our ‘performance’.”

            I couldn’t see his face, but I sensed confusion and annoyance rising in him again. But he nodded and replied, “Alright.”

             “Let us be on our way ,” Lucien said, this time using an insistent tone of voice to nudge me, and gestured for me to hook my left arm around his right. With noble grace, I accepted his arm and kept deep beneath the surface an immense thrill over its feel.

            “Atterius, ” Farwil seethed.

            “For the sake of appearances, sir,” Lucien whispered to him. “Please... do permit me.” Even then he preserved diplomatic humility, conscious of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary’s dependence on the Dark Brotherhood’s good relationship with House Indarys.

            “Agh-h-h-fine,” Farwil replied. I sensed there was more he wanted to add to that, perhaps something similar to what he had said before back in Taneth:  “Just don’t forget what I told you back in Cheydinhal!”  But he probably remembered that I was short on patience with his threatening words towards LaChance and swallowed them.

                                                               ~*~

             Where the road began to curve towards Sentinel’s northwest entrance, we joined the steady stream of guests and entertainers making their way up the wide sandstone walkway that was built into the side of the plateau. Most arrived on rickshaws, elephants, camels, and horses, but our unit remained on foot— one of the things that Atterius was known for was his humbleness.

            We were cheered on by crowds of people lining the path to the gates of Surraiah’s property. Bursts of marigold petals, several dozen at a time, flew out from people's hands and cascaded from the treetops and the ledge of the cliff wall. I almost wished I had taken my sandals off, thinking about what a wonderful textural experience it would’ve been to feel the supple flower petals crunch beneath my feet. I was distracted from the temptation by the massive drums and horn instruments blaring from the center of Surraiah's party, which could be heard from a mile in every which way; it lifted my spirits up to a height untouched by the fears that had me minutes ago, or any regard to the true identity and reality that I had left at the doors of the smith shop. I felt as though I was truly becoming the person that I was pretending to be, to the point of not giving any second thought to tightening my grip on LaChance’s l arm and giving the parent shoulder a few affectionate pats to express to him my excitement over a welcome fit for royalty.

            “Enjoying yourself, Lady Nelvani?” Lucien asked, drawing up a small grin as he mildly gave return pats to the forearm hooked around his right.

            “Damn right I am!” I cried out, bouncing a bit like a school-aged child as I waved back at the crowd. “Come on, Atterius! Let yourself be raptured up into the moment! We might never know a night like this again!”

            “Actually…  we might .”

            My head snapped from the crowd and to Lucien’s masked face. “Oh? What—?”

            “Hush, now,” Lucien barked through his teeth as he faked a smile, giving a quick nod to the upper end of the walkway. “We’re almost there. Get your head out of the clouds and focus on the task at hand.”

            “My mind can occupy multiple places at the same time,” I argued. “Stop worrying.”

            Lucien’s head whipped around and I could feel the heat of his intense scowl permeating through the mask. 

            I corrected myself. “I mean…  yes, sir .”

             We all kept an outward calm as we reached the top and followed the line of guests, but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one with a head full of hornets, watching the guards without blinking or breathing as the distance between us and them shortened, two people at a time. Whenever I felt the surface give slightly to the pressure, I smiled and acted as though the shakes were caused by sheer admirition of Surraiah’s home; the grandeur and mesmerizing details in the moulds, ceilings, and floors that spoke of a wealth that had been accumulated and preserved throughout generations.

             “What’s with all the extra security??” asked someone ahead of us.

            “A necessary precaution; that’s all we’re at liberty to say,” answered one of the guards, holding a clipboard up to the couple’s faces. “Negative. Move along, and enjoy your stay.”

            “Thank you!”

             To ease my mind, I turned my attention to the beautiful multicolored metal embellishments along the wall made of sun-bleached sandstone. But just as I was beginning to relax, Farwil gave my arm several frantic jabs with his elbow. 

            “What, Sreth??” I snapped at him, at a volume just under that of the surrounding clamour. 

            “Remnants…  all of them,” he hissed.

            “Remnants? You mean…  daedra ?” I whispered.

            “Yes.”

            “Are you sure?? How can you tell??”

            “It’s something they all wear to generate an illusion. I’ll explain later… when or if I can.”

            I nodded, then turned to Lucien. “Did you hear what Sreth said?” I asked him.

            “Of course I did," Lucien answered, phenomenally calm. "I hope he’s mistaken… but… he's likely to be right.” 

            "Do you think that means…  you-know-who  is also here?"

            "It might. But that doesn't change anything. Do not, under any circumstances, deviate from the plan unless I instruct you to. Understood?"

            "Yes, sir."

(CONTINUED)

[itsallronni]

// rooftop rapture // pt. 1 //

leon

after his conversation with nolie, leon had messaged the other careers to convene on the roof to talk. he had reservations about all of them, even nike but he thought it would be best if they all spoke, got on the same wavelength or parted ways early on. when he made his way to the roof, he saw two outlying mentors smoking, as soon as they saw the handsome district two tribute, they hunched over and hissed before they scuttled back to tend to their poor tributes. as soon as the door opened to the roof again, he turned around and smiled.

nike

when nike had gotten the message, she let out a soft sigh. she had only met one of the other careers earlier upon their arrival to the capitol, aside from leon. but having to meet on the roof and have to make nice? nike wasn't sure she was capable of it... still, she made her way up to the roof, opening the door and letting the two mentors pass. she glanced toward leon and made her way further out onto the roof. "is it just us so far?"

leon

"yeah, just us. i was going to knock on your door but i didn't know if you were ready or not." walking over to her, he looked around. "have you met any other careers yet?"

nike

"i met aggie earlier, she seems all right." she shared the same eagerness to get into the arena as nike had. she was more than ready to go in and face the other tributes. "what about you? any chance you met the others?"

leon

"ronni, the boy from four he's... eager. uses a halberd which is an interesting weapon - he's a sure bet for allying i think but we'll see when we get into the training centre." looking at the door and squinting he sighed. "where are the others?"

calix

Calix hadn’t meet any of the other tributes yet, well besides his sister of course, so he was a little surprised to learn that the careers were all meeting on the rooftop. He slipped out of bed and dressed before heading up to the rooftop garden. When he arrived he spied two figures and figured they were who he was looking for. He shoved his fists into his jacket pockets before approaching them and giving them a head jerk as greeting.

goldie

goldie walked up to the roof slowly. she'd heard that the careers were meeting on the roof, and she wasn't about to miss out. she saw her brother ahead of her — he must've just gotten out of the one's apartment before she did. goldie knew their mentors wouldn't approve, so she'd waited until they were either asleep or out to sneak up to the roof. she joined the small circle of careers, smiling at them. "nice to meet you, i'm goldie."

leon

as soon as leon asked the question the boy and girl from one came. leon smiled at both of them, sizing them up. "i'm leon, district two. you two are from one, right?"

goldie

"yup," goldie said, nodding. "that your district partner?" she asked, nodding at the girl standing next to him

calix

Calix smiled slightly as a polite gesture as he looked both of the other tributes over. “What she said.” He replied as he nodded his head at Goldie.

leon

leon thought it was strange that a brother and sister would compete in the same year but stranger things have happened. "you two met the pair from four?"

nike

she turned her attention toward the door as it opened. a boy and girl emerged from the doorway, the boy only giving a nod while the girl offered more of an introduction. "nike," she greeted with a small nod of her head.

ronni

ronni, armed with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a jug of tequila in the other, giggled as the elevator took he and aggie up to the top of the roof. he, like the other careers, had received the message from leon. the pair from four took one look at each other and knew what the other was thinking: time for a party. so, the moment the elevator arrived and the door slid open, ronni leapt out and held both containers of alcohol in the air. "wooh! what's up, guys?!"(edited)

leon

"you've got to be fucking joking." leon whispered underneath his breath

calix

“Nope” Calix popped the p in the word before letting his eyes pass male and female to look out over the rooftop. As the door behind them opened and there was shouting Calix turned with raised brows. “Someone found the liquor cabinet it looks like.” He chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief.(edited)

nike

the elevator doors opened and another pair emerged. the boy let out a cheer and a loud, enthusiastic greeting. "you want the peacekeepers coming up here and calling this whole thing off? might want to tone down the hype, party boy."

leon

"for once, i'm inclined to agree with nike." parties weren't a rarity in two but the thought of throwing one on the roof whilst there were tributes brought out a part of leon he'd rather keep to himself

goldie

goldie frowned. "i'm all for the side of getting tipsy, but if peacekeepers bust our ass because you can't keep your mouth shut, i'm gonna kick your ass."

ronni

he walked over eagerly and nodded to each of the new faces he hadn't seen before. once he set down the bottles, he gave a big smile and extended his hand for fist-bumps. "you're damn right! It wasn't hard, honestly. i got an avox to show me. there's so much stuff in those cabinets, man."  the smile began to slowly fade as an onslaught of negative comments came his way. still, he wouldn't let that get him down. he wanted a party! "jeez, i'm sorry. sorry, sorry. i just thought it would be good to celebrate, yeah?"(edited)

leon

leon felt bad now, not only was ronni short - his feelings had been hurt, it wasn't surprising that he overcompensated by acting like a party animal. patting his shoulder, leon held out his hand for one of the bottles. "he's right, we're going to be the best career pack the hunger games has ever seen, right?"

aggie

at least she and ronni were on the same wave length. he may be an overconfident ass, but at least he knew to have fun. she hadn't wanted to get paired with one of those careers who was too concerned with their physique, or whatever. a little alcohol warmed the blood. holding strawberry winecoolers in both hands, aggie pouted at the others who disapproved. "oh, i'm sorry. i didn't realize i was with a bunch of pussies here. that doesn't bode well for the games."

ronni

ronni couldn't help but laugh at aggie's blunt comment. oh, aggie. he could always count on her for a laugh -- no matter how crazy and bloodthirsty she really was. the energy returned to his smile as leon comforted him. "yeah... yeah, i am right! c'mon, guys, let's get this thing started." he picked up the jug of tequila, twirled the top, and flicked it off expertly. it was gonna be a long night.(edited)

nike

she hadn't minded that ronni had brought the alcohol, but with the noise he had been making, it was going to draw unwanted attention. and nike was already having enough of that with this crowd, but one way or another, they had to be all on the same page if they wanted to form a solid alliance. because the career packs had been pretty abysmal in the last few years...  she reached for one of the bottles, "i'm just saying, if we don't want to get kicked off the roof, we need to keep the noise down"

calix

Calix decided to stay out of it and just reached for the vodka, cracking the seal open, and bringing the bottle to his lips to take five large gulps of the burning liquid.

aggie

"what, are you afraid of the big bad peacekeepers?" aggie said, her voice taking an exaggerated tone, like the kind one would use when telling a scary story to a child. "i mean, what can they do to us now?"

leon

leon looked at calix with raised eyebrows "everything alright there friend?"

ronni

ronni whooped with glee at the sight of the guy from one guzzling the liquor like a champ. "chug, chug, chug!"(edited)

nike

"we're not going to get anything accomplished if we get kicked out in the first five minutes. it'll be a waste of time we don't have before going in the arena."

goldie

goldie took one of the strawberry wine coolers from aggie. "a girl after my own heart, huh?" she said, grinning at her as she took a drink.

calix

Calix rolled his eyes at the boy from Four before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before scoffing with a smirk. “Will be more than alright soon enough.” His lips pulled up into a full grin.

ronni

the grinning was contagious. with the same infectious smile, ronni turned towards aggie and playfully jabbed her in the side with his elbow. "y'know, i'll be honest, i didn't think they'd have what it takes. it seems that one over there can handle his liquor."(edited)

aggie

"but of course." aggie responded, shooting goldie a wink before turning back to ronni. "didn't think i'd see it out of four. color me impressed."

leon

"what do y'all drink like you've got no future in four or something?"

nike

nike took a drink from her wine cooler, letting out a soft scoff at leon's remark.

aggie

"if you go to the right places." aggie said, giggling into the cup she poured for herself. "there's some places by the docks..." she shook her head, smirking as if lost in memory.

ronni

"nah, it's more like we drink 'cause we got a lot to celebrate," he said right before he took a big swig of the hearty tequila. "then again, we all have a lot to celebrate -- which brings me back to my original point, guys. cheers to us!"

goldie

"cheers!" goldie said, clinking her wine cooler with the closest glass

leon

"cheers!" leon had grabbed a wine cooler too, not wanting to get too wild and clinked his glass with goldie's. "so what is district one like?" he asked her

nike

"cheers," nike lifted her bottle to clink against one of the other glasses or bottles before taking another drink. she glanced at leon upon his inquiry to the girl from one-- goldie, her name was-- and she looked to the girl to wait for her response.

goldie

"it's nice!" goldie said, smiling. the wine cooler was making her feel warm and fuzzy inside, which was always a nice feeling. "pretty warm. lots of shiny things. anything to add, calix?" she asked, nudging her brother with her shoulder

ronni

ronni, having sensed that all but leon's district partner were having a good time, reached out and clinked her bottle. if they were going to get along, then they all had to come together. "so, uh, what's your name? you're leon's partner, right?"

aggie

"shiny things!" aggie echoed, her signature cackle suddenly appearing. "one and done for the girl from one, then. little bit lightweight?" it was all in good fun, at least how aggie intended it.

ronni

ronni heard aggie's outburst and made purposeful eye-contact with leon. a smirk spread across his face as he sipped his tequila.

leon

“my family does a lot of hunting in two and we send over the furs and pelts to one to make whatever luxury things you get from that.” Leon raised his eyebrow at Aggie’s cackle but decided to unpack that another day. He caught Ronni’s eye and snorted as he took another sip of his drink “so what does your family do Aggie?”(edited)

nike

"nike," she replied. he hadn't been there when she introduced herself to the twins from one. her gaze turned toward aggie at her sudden exclamation and she gave a small shake of her head.

calix

Calix grabbed a wine cooler before leaning back against the railing of the rooftop. “Not really, no.” He smirked

ronni

"ronni," he said with a nod and a sip. he could tell instantly what kind of person she was. boring, dull, and a partypooper were just a few of the words that came to mind. in fact, she reminded him of jane. shuddering, he willed images of jane from his mind. "cool. uh... okay, what's your go-to weapon?  i know leon's is a bow and arrow. mine's a halberd."

aggie

aggie scrunched up her face at the mention of her family. it was still a bit of a sore spot, when you got down to it. it had been a long time since she was a little girl teased for her family's lack of wealth, and she doubted it would matter much here--but still, the memory remained. "shrimping, mostly. but i haven't lived with them in some time so not really important."

goldie

"academy shit or...?" goldie asked, quirking an eyebrow at the girl.

nike

she nodded to confirm what he knew of leon. she had seen leon practice with both weapons at the academy and he knew how to handle himself pretty well. "sword," she replied, looking over to ronni with a raised brow, "a halberd?" she hadn't seen a lot of tributes go for that weapon

leon

everybody loved shrimp, so in leon's mind her family were saints "familial issues. that's a good sign. were they not supportive of your wish to participate?"

goldie

"crossbow," goldie said, grinning.

aggie

"i live with my trainer, yeah." aggie said quickly, only allowing a scowl to dance across her face for a moment. she was eager to change the subject. "no, it was just better for my training and everything. i dunno, it doesn't matter. there weren't issues." this was getting entirely too personal for her liking.

ronni

a sword? it was interesting to ronni. when he first met leon, he had expected him to say sword and for a girl to say bow and arrow. so, the roles were switched? he couldn't help but chortle as he sipped, sipped, sipped. "yeah, a halberd. it's pretty cool. i know it's not the most common thing to use but i love it."  oh, wait, there it was! the girl from one -- goldie? -- used a crossbow. he tipped his jug at her and gave her a wide grin. she was pretty cute, now that he got a good look at her. he started to speak but stopped when aggie mentioned her trainer. he hadn't known that about her. he paused, pretended to sip from his jug, and stared at her out of the corner of his eye.(edited)

leon

leon thought it was weird that the district one pair were brother and sister, but the fact that aggie lived with her trainer took the crown for him. he was finding it difficult to not laugh. "oh word."

goldie

"see, calix and i have been in the academy since we were old enough to talk. good old mom wants a victor, so..." goldie took another sip of her wine cooler. the wine made the cool night air a little less chilly.

calix

Calix cocked his head to the side at Aggie’s admission “Oh?” He sipped his drink “They just your trainer or...?” He raised his brows.(edited)

ronni

sensing aggie's discomfort, ronni stepped to the side and playfully slapped calix on the back. "hey, how's that drink treating ya, man? feeling like a loosey goosey?"

nike

it was unique, she gave that to ronni. the attention seemed to shift toward aggie when she mentioned living with her trainer, and the others seemed to pick on her for it. though there was an air of discomfort the more they tried to dig into the girl from four, until the topics shifted. nike let out a breath and took another drink from her bottle.

aggie

aggie's eyes bulged at calix's comment, and she nearly spit out the wine her cup. "fuck, that's perverted. bada is older than my mother." she was done with this, ready to pick at something else. "i'm surprised we're talking about my family and not yours, Cali?"(as a side note--aggie is the queen of nicknames. everyone gets one)

ronni

ronni had been in the middle of taking a sip when aggie, in true aggie fashion, said something he found hysterical. the tequila traveled up his throat and into his nose. brown liquid shot out at a great speed as he unleashed a guffaw of epic proportions.  fuck, that's perverted  god, that was so rich.(edited)

leon

leon didn't find what aggie said nearly as funny as ronni did but the sheer violence of ronni's reaction made him yell out in laughter.

1

aggie

"thanks for the encouragement, ronni." aggie said, leaning over and patting her district partner on the leg. "your support means the world to me."

calix

Calix’s eyes flicked to Ronni as he saw movement and stiffened as the other male slapped him on the back. Despite no longer having to worry about people feeling the outline of a binder or sports bra under his clothes he still didn’t like being touched on the back. Calix stood up and looked the male over. “Sure.” He smiled a tight lip smile to Ronni before turning his attention back to Aggie and laughing at her reaction. “Hey, some people are into that.” He shrugged. “Cali, aye?” He cocked his head again. “What do you want to know?” Calix’s brows wrinkled as he looked at Ronni after the alcohol shot out of his nose. “Well, that’s fucking gross.”

ronni

"no--hack no problem, aggie. no problem at all," he said as he desperately tried to wipe away both the residual tequila from his nose and the tears from his eyes. shit, this shit burned. shit. ronni looked up at calix's comment and let an eyebrow travel upwards. "look, it was an accident. at least it didn't get on you... oh, shit, did it get on you?"(edited)

nike

this is the guy that I'm going to be fighting with in the arena in a few weeks... she thought as ronni shot liquor and whatever the hell else out of his nose in laughter. she needed more booze if she was going to get through this night.

calix

Calix smiled a sweet smile. “Trust me, you’d know if you got it on me since I would have kicked your ass.” He sipped his drink again.

leon

calix was bold, and leon liked the friendly (?) banter he had already struck up between him and ronni. "ooh that's fighting talk calix. maybe day one of training you can put your pride where your mouth is."

ronni

it was like magic. ronni’s posture straightened, the burning sensation in his nose was replaced with one in his chest, and he stared intently at the boy from one. “huh?” he said sharply(edited)

aggie

"Cali." she affirmed. ignoring her district partner's struggles and pouring herself another glass. they had stronger stuff in the capitol--she was already lightheaded. "well, i'm not sure you've noticed, but i believe that your twin sister is going into the games with you.""thought i'd shoot the elephant in the room while we're at it, aye?" aggie added.

leon

leon was left thoroughly gagged by aggie's words.

so he quietly sipped his fourth winecooler

goldie

"that's who that is?" goldie said, sarcastically. "i would've had no idea. we're related?" she said, mock surprise in her voice

calix

Calix chuckled lightly “Now What would be the fun in that? Gotta keep you guys guessing.” He told Leon before ignoring Ronni and turning to Aggie and looking her over with a smirk. “I like it.” Calix laughed “Look at that, you’re not just a pretty face. You’re observant too!” Calix looped am arm around his twin “Yeah, that wasn’t part of the plan but what do you do?” He shrugged.

ronni

what the fuck? ronni felt his grip on the jug tighten. he took a large, dramatized step closer to calix and let his face inch closer to his. he gave goldie a wink, too, for good measure. regardless of how annoying her brother was, she was still pretty cute. “guessing you didn’t hear me. let me say it again, man. huh?!”

nike

the comeback calix had was a small joke, just a light jab at ronni after his rather obnoxious reaction. but things seemed to escalate from ronni's reaction and nike found herself growing tense, merely exchanging glances between ronni and calix silently.

goldie

goldie stepped back slightly. if there was going to be a fight, she had no intention of being in the middle of it

aggie

Oblivious to the rising tension, Aggie smirked at Calix. "I hate to be the one to break this to you," aggie said, still barely holding back laughter. "but you can still volunteer when you're eighteen."

calix

Calix stiffened but didn’t back away as Ronni got in his face. He smirked, even as Ronni looked his sister over. He looked over at Aggie. “She was drawn after I volunteered.” Then Calix suddenly moved forward, his lips connecting roughly with Ronni’s.

aggie

A moment of silence, then Aggie, who had already been giggling, roared into laughter. “Holy—fucking—shit!”

goldie

goldie cackled. "better hope none of the cameras saw that, huh pretty boy?"

nike

there was a beat of stunned silence after the kiss and nike let out a soft snort. "well damn." she couldn't say she saw that coming.

ronni

of all the things he had been expecting -- a punch, a slap, a string of curse words -- this... was not what he expected. his eyes widened and a rush of pink overtook his face. after about three-five seconds of, um... 'kissing'  transpired, ronni fell back and looked at the boy from one with wide, enraged eyes. "what the fuck, man? what--what the fuck?"

leon

leon let out a silent breath of air, he was grateful he wasn't the only queer on the roof.  "get a room guys" and he winked at the two of them before downing the rest of his drink.

ronni

"w-what... wait, i--"  ronni sputtered at aggie, goldie, nike, and leon in quick succession. "now, hold on, i--"

aggie

“history is a flat circle my friends, “ aggie murmured, after she recovered from her fit. “they’re both going to die trampled by ponies. pretty boys don’t stand a chance.”

goldie

"all the better for us, right girls?" goldie asked, taking another sip of her wine cooler.

nike

"relax, doubt anybody on the roof right now's gonna kiss and tell. your reputation's safe, pretty boy."

leon

"there's no shame on this roof ronni, after all at least five us will be dead soon" leon snorted.

calix

Calix pulled back before shrugging and laughing heartily. “Thought you’d learn not get in my face.”

leon

"calix i think he liked it though." leaning against the roof edge, leon was excited to see how this played out.

ronni

ignoring the others, ronni -- evidently not learning his lesson -- closed the distance between himself and calix once more. he grasped at his shirt and pulled him close. returning the kiss was the last thing on his mind. "gimme one good reason why i shouldn't clock you in the face for that shit you just pulled."

leon

"you liked it!" shouted leon from the distance.

aggie

“hit him!” aggie yelled from the spot she had taken on the floor. “hit him!”

calix

Calix shrugged “All the better.” He winked at Ronni but soon the male was grabbing Calix. “Because you know if you hit me the peacekeeper will come.”

goldie

goldie quirked an eyebrow, looking at her fellow careers — well, the ones not involved in the altercation — "anyone wanna take any bets?"

nike

"he's not going to hit him. he would have done it by now."

leon

"i agree with nike, but if they were to fight - my money is on calix but it'd be a close fight."

goldie

goldie mock-pouted in the girl from two's direction. "aw, but i was so looking forward to my brother kicking his ass," she said mournfully

ronni

"i don't care about the peacekeepers, man. what're they gonna do? hit me like i'm about to hit you--" his words caught in his throat. his head turned towards leon and a slightly hurt expression took ahold of his face. "your money is on who?!"

[littlefreya]

One More Touch Before We Die

Summary: It was the devil who wanted to be loved the most

Senses: Taste | Sounds | Touch | Scent | Sight

Pairing: August Walker x OFC

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Romance, smut, sex, fingering, slight oral, body worship. 

A/N: Continuing the senses challenge @viking-raider and @dancingwendigo​ has been doing. Doing a different character with every sense. Thanks @agniavateira​​ for editing my work like a queen! Please leave feedback :) it keeps me fueled. 

Title: One more Touch Before We Die

The cabin’s bedroom was lit by the pink glow of the winter sunset over the mountains. The tender hues draped the sky, embraced by the purple clouds that floated feather-like in the empty air. Glimpsing at the open window, I wondered how something so weightless, something I was unable to sense on my flesh, made so much impact on my anima.

Maybe because August made me experience the world through his eyes. All that existed was magnified, every emotion intensely evoked. Like waves breaking onto rocky boulders during an angry storm. 

“You can’t blame the ocean, angel. It just does what it knows, as I do.”

As fire consumed, as water broke mountains into hollow caverns.

But there was no anger between the large red bricks that padded the walls of the room, only solace. And in the midst of that serenity, August’s fingertips found me, as they always did. Completely bare onto the big wooden bed, cushioned by soft furs, he laid a mere inch from my soul. His supple fingers ran across the ridges of the cage that held my lungs as I laid on my side. He counted the bones voicelessly.

I was made of his rib after all.

Tender and lingering, he followed the valley that was my waist, sliding smoothly, adoring the parabola that led to my hip. My muscles raptured at his touch, stretched chords danced joyously as atoms collided. Microscopic cells kissed, creating a chaotic reaction that rippled through our blood and the entire stellar existence.  

His hand ghosted away then, anticipating my reaction, for my answer to his calling. I turned on my side to face him, dazed by his beauty. Aquamarine eyes swallowed me whole, and in one of them was a deserted splash of warm brown that spilt like watercolours by mistake. It represented him so perfectly, like an island in a vast sea.

My hand moved to his cheek, gently caressing his gruff skin. August was all man in his being, primal and strong. He made me feel all woman. Slender and petite,  in need of his protection; I felt safe while others feared him. 

Gently I stroked down, letting the short stubble scratch my skin before I leaned to brush my lips against his own. The coarseness of his moustache tickled the tip of my nose as I moved in to kiss him.

My heart accelerated as I felt the wetness of our flesh breaking against one another. I decorated the corner of his mouth and followed down to his carved jaw, nibbling at the cut shape of his bone. A low groan escaped his throat as I pressed my hands flat against his hairy chest, as if to stop ourselves from falling into nothingness in case we lost our hold.

He held me back yet so feverishly, his fingertips hovering over the small of my back like butterfly wings, flapping over my spine carefully. These hands could kill but to me, they’d do no harm. After all, I was his princess, his angel.

I descended down his form with ease, trailing kisses down his broad chest. The hair of his body was soft against my lips. I licked at his nipple, circling my tongue around the small peak, listening to the hiss that left his lips. Only I was allowed to touch August Walker, and I wanted to believe that no woman ever revered him the way I did. 

Hard muscles adorned his torso with defined, toned abs. I felt the sinew as I stroked down his abdomen, following with my mouth which left a wet path down his skin. His hand ascended up the ridge of my spine as I fell between his hips. His touch sent little electric tremors through my nerves. 

It spread through my body, like unstoppable molten fire. 

His immense cock stood solid between a bundle of dark curls. I sneaked my hand to seize him, my palm pressing against the ridges and tendons that throbbed and twitched to the joy of my touch. I pumped him slowly before taking him into the warm cage between my lips.

The groans August made were heavenly, his fingers threaded through my hair and I coveted more. I slid him deeper onto my tongue, closing my eyes as if I was the one being made love to. My chest felt heavy, my heart clenched like an angry fist. Fuck, I was in love.

But always eager for control, his hand gripped my chin to stop me. With a small shift, it was me who was being worshipped by his hands. His grip became firm as he explored my body. One hand ran down the course of my back, flowing south to my behind to squeeze one cheek and part it with zeal. Two fingers stroked between my petals, rubbing from behind, slowly moving back and forth to smear my juices across my slit while his eyes sought for my trust.

I was ripe and fresh, my utter devotion laid at his being. He pressed his lips together, cooing at me as I moaned once his fingers curled inside me. It was meant to taunt me, not relax me. He knew the effect he had on my body; he loved teasing me, loved to see me begging for more. 

And begged I did, I pressed myself into him, feeling the warmth of his skin, our flesh grinding together. 

I did not want to say it, but my body screamed for him. 

August flashed me a slanted smirk, the crease on his cheek caved in, splitting his skin into an endearing dimple. He knew he had me. With his fingers still toying with my slit, he took his cock in his left hand and teased my hot mound while his lips licked my gaping mouth.

Words couldn’t form on my tongue while his fingers pumped in and out and his tip manipulated me into a mewling thing. Even though I needed to say it, to scream it, I could only sob. He crooned at me with mercy and then entered me whole, sliding his fingers away so both his hands could catch me and roll me onto my back. 

My legs wrapped themselves around his waist to bring him closer against me, my body lifted from the mattress to earn more of the warmth of his beautiful skin. The room was chill yet we were engulfed by sweat as hot as tinder. We smeared it further as we ground flesh to flesh. 

I was bound to him, my body unwilling to let go. Every time he fucked me I ached for more. His thick manhood stretched me open and unveiled all my mysteries and hidden desires.

I was bare to him as he was to me.

August hovered above me, lips kissing my neck and jaw lazily as he sunk himself even deeper between my folds. He grunted loudly with every thrust his body made into mine, overwhelmed by the desperation in which my cunt sucked him and the friction that was created between us. 

Our genesis, a collision of darkness and light.  

My claws clutched the wings of his back, fingernails digging deep as he reached the bottom of my cervix. He was buried in my depth, shaping me to fit his desire despite the pure resistance of my muscles. There was a spot uncharted to anyone but him and as his cock plunged against it, I lost all my senses. 

I could feel the skin breaking beneath my talons as he rocked us back and forth with urgency, gasping loudly in my ear. I marked him, leaving bloody trails on the canvas of his back. August roared with pain and took my arms, pinning them to the sides. His fingers braided into mine while he fucked me with desperation, harder and harder with every thrust.  

I was in a daze, moaning against his lips as his cock swelled against my clenching walls. I shuddered from within, sensing every inch of him as my cunt tightened even more. In one moment I was spiralling out of gravity, losing my sense of reality as the world went black and every drop of my existence was in rapture. My fingers twisted against his, my body arched to accept him, my breasts squashed against his hard chest. 

One after the other my orgasms hit. I felt the pulsating heat between my legs, showered with waterfalls of joys. August continued to conquer me, deep cries breaking between his lips. He let go of my hands to cradle my face between his palms, his touch rough as he forced my gaze to him. He made me look, wanted me to see the exact moment when he fell into ecstasy. 

That deep shouty groan, the wrinkles on his forehead and his watery blue eyes. It was almost as good as coming undone. His liquid wallowed hot and thick inside me before he carefully pulled out and laid at my side with his hands stroking my hair. He bumped his nose against my temple and pushed one of his legs between mine. Even after we laid heaving, glowing in our post-orgasmic haven, he couldn’t stop touching me, afraid that I would cease to love him if he did.

I couldn’t stop either.  

________________________________________________________

DM me if you want to be tagged/untagged

Disclaimer: I don’t own mission impossible or August Walker

[seniichi]

Flower Bouquet

Summary: Green doesn’t often feel loved. Red and Gold want him to be. (Or how in a handful of months, Red and Gold learn that they want nothing more than to make Green feel like diamond.) Duo Nameless and Inspiship for one (1) @murdeirin for the gift week conga.

Note: If you like my work, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi account - Seniichi.

“He likes flowers,“ Gold tells Red one day over lunch. Ever since Red had come down from the top of the mountain, Green had been in a decidedly worse mood, though the reason why was anyone’s guess. Red looks mystified, gesturing with one hand in a question of why that would be significant. “Because he just got back from doing work in Pallet Town, and he could really use someone who cares right about now.” Gold says flatly. “I mean, unless you don’t.” Red flinches at the accusatory tone, glares at how Gold frames it. Of course he cared! The man stands up, now thoroughly affronted, and disappears. Gold continues eating lunch, a smirk on his face.

To say Green is bewildered when Red arrives, a soft bouquet of lilies in hand would be to understate his confusion. But he accepts the flowers, skeptically eyes the roots while Red hides behind his hat, cheeks red. He’s thoroughly surprised when Green’s face breaks into a genuine, if confused smile.

“That’s sweet Red,” Green smiles up at the man, ducking a little to see under his hat. He stretches up to lay a kiss against his cheek, expression soft and smile warm. Green takes the flowers off to a flowerpot, and Red slowly unfreezes from the embarrassed - but oddly pleased - statue he’d turned into. The next time Red visits, he can see his flowers growing in a pot. He curiously signs a question, and Green’s smile spreads. “They still had roots silly,” Green laughs at him, tugs on his hat playfully. “They took root pretty well, I’d say.” Green leans over to kiss the top of Red’s head. “Thanks for them - They really made a bad day better.“ Red gives a flustered response that amuses Green, and he escapes while he still has the chance.

The next time he sees Gold, the boy is running around with a basket of eggs. The boy waves at him, and he waves back carefully.

“... Green loves Eevee.” He says at last, when Gold stops by him, panting for air. The boy frowns.

“Yeah, he’s mentioned it.” The boy points out. Red shakes his head, frustrated at the lack of understanding. He doesn’t like talking out loud, and he has to emphasize it, using his signing to punctuate his meanings.

He loves Eevee. Red knew how Green adored the fluffy things, always cooing over his Eevee’s ruff and spoiling the darn thing rotten. Gold’s eyes widen.

“Ooooh. I see.” The boy gives a grin, salutes him. “I gotcha captain.“ The boy speeds off, and Red resigns himself to an annoyed chewing out from Green later.

“So, what’s so special about this batch?” Green asks Gold when the excitable boy takes his hand and leads him into his daycare. In response, Gold whistles. Green’s eyes widen at the sound of a lot of little voices of a familiar pokemon preceding the veritable flood of twenty extremely fluffy coats as the Eevees purr on him, clambering over his shoulders and licking his face. Green’s laughing, but this is cute, they’re really damn fluffy, and Green can’t help but fall in love. He barely looks up when Gold guides him into the living room, leaving him to enjoy his afternoon.

“I kind of ignored you...” Green’s embarrassed, hand rubbing against the back of his neck. Gold smiles at him warmly, bumps his fist against a shoulder.

“Honestly, I needed someone to distract the Eevees for me,” Gold grins openly. “I haven’t been able to cook undisturbed for weeks. Feel free to visit anytime you like - I could use a chance to make Pokemon food without them climbing up my legs and trying to get at them.” Green laughs, a faint flush on his cheeks.

“I’ll remember that.” Green says his polite goodbyes, waving slightly as the gym leader leaves to focus on other things for the evening.

The next time Gold sees Red, the man gives him a faint smile and thumbs up. It starts this way, so simply. Green does a hideous amount of work for an atrocious amount of pay, and it’s in their interests to see to it that he’s happier - the rest of the league doesn’t need him to be so stressed out.

But spending time with Green, just the two of them - or all three, depending on what they’re doing - brings far more into play, feelings growing deeper every time they saw the delighted expression on his face, the rapturous joy they had helped bring about.

“I think it’s pretty safe to say we like him,” Gold greets Red with that statement after one of their practice battles. Red looks a little offended at first, but Gold raises a challenging brow and the man wilts a little. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not acting on those feelings.” He says easily, misses Red’s doubletake. “I really like him. I like him a lot. But we both make him happy, and he’d be pretty heartbroken if he had to choose.” Red looks torn, but shuffles his feet in agreement.

“I don’t think he’ll ever pick,” Red says the words quietly. Gold looks at Red, tilts his head up to match the taller man’s gaze.

“And can you live with that?” He asks. Red seems to waver at first, before a faint, determined expression crosses his face. He nods firmly.

“Yeah. I can live with that.” Gold grins.

“Great. Listen, I’ve got a plan for Friday - there’s a movie opening up, and I was planning on taking Green - but if you’d like to come, I can spare an extra ticket.” Red looks at him in interested suspicion, before taking his word as genuine and smiling slightly.

Sounds great. He returns to signing now that the important part was over. He was kind of sad, but after Gold leaves, Red can’t help but smile a little. He was making Green happy. And someone else was too. That alone was worth it.

[chika-the-terrible]

WIP  Tag Game

Rules: Share the latest line however much you want from your work in progress and then tag as many people as there are words in the line as you want.

Tagged by @deardmvz, who has absolutely wonderful ideas.

I’ve got so many WIPs, but I think I’ll do a few pieces from the BioShock AU for Stranger Things that I’ve been writing. (Curious? Located here on AO3)

As for tagging, I don’t really know a lot of people on Tumblr and so I don’t know who to tag, so I’ll leave this part blank. But if you wanna do this game, you’re welcome to!

Part #1

“I’ve got a question for you.” Steve’s eyes flicked up from Max’s hair.

“Yeah?”

“Your veins, the fire, just what was that?”

“Plasmids.”

“Could you tell us what those are, sweetie?” Joyce asked. Steve finally paused in brushing Max’s hair, lifting his head to focus attention on the other people in the room. Max’s shoulders dropped in relief.

“They’re the things that helped run Rapture. Powers you could inject into your body. They were made from ADAM and you used EVE to keep using them.” Steve raised an arm to show his veins already lit up in white. He waved a hand—just a wave—and suddenly it felt like a hurricane had entered the house. Pictures were flapping against the walls as they covered themselves against the windy onslaught. Max thought Dustin’s hat might’ve gone flying. But as soon as it started, it stopped. Max lowered her arms and stared at Steve. His veins were no longer white, but if that was only one of his powers… He seemed scarier and scarier.

Part #2

“...And if we tell him the truth? What’ll happen?” Max took a deep breath and sighed.

“I don’t know. He listens to commands, like a slave, but he won’t attack us unless we tell him otherwise. We can tell him to listen to the whole thing, even tell him not to attack you, and you’ll be fine. I just don’t know what he might do, though.”

“Because Steve’s a big guessing game in human form.” Billy quipped. He crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll stay. But the second he goes on the attack, I’m outta here. Deal?”

“Deal.” Max didn’t expect him to hold out his fist to close the deal but she bumped it regardless. She was glad he was giving Steve a second chance. They went back inside and immediately Steve’s eyes landed on Billy once again. To his credit, Billy didn’t cow or back down when Steve’s gaze narrowed.

[chasingxprongs]

minific-- James to baby Harry, "things you said when you thought i was asleep"

Send me a ship for a mini fic || Accepting 

I’m sorry I was going to go funny and then failed because I was listening to Ed Sheeran.

He’s lying on his front, Lily’s pyjama top rolled up to reveal the swell of her stomach, her breathing even as she sleeps. James can’t sleep, although he knows he’s the only one in the house that isn’t. He knows because he’s been watching, watching the shift under her skin of their baby moving. He knows because he’s watched and waited, whispering to the little wriggler that’s going to be their baby. He knows because he’s hummed songs of his own childhood until the bump seemed to settle. He knows because already, he knows his own kid. Knows when they’re sleeping, knows when they’re restless. Knows and he’s never even seen their face.

“I’m pretty fucking excited to meet you mate—don’t come out saying fucking though, I reckon your mum will divorce me.”

He’s safe to say it now. Whilst the baby sleeps. Whilst he lies in the stillness of their room and whispers the things he feels. He can say it now without the pressure, can say it without the guilt that comes with it. The guilt he feels obligated to feel. The guilt that comes with being a parent even when he isn’t quite one yet. The guilt that comes with war. With everything they’ve chosen to do and the things they haven’t chosen either.

He can say it now because it’s how he feels. He can say it even though he has no right to. He can say it, can allow himself to just feel it for these quiet moments—despite the fact they have no right to be bringing a baby into this world. Not right now. Not whilst it’s like this. 

He’s not sure what type of parents that makes them, that they’ve done this. He’s not sure if love can conquer all, if the good guys will definitely win—but he likes to believe that’s true. In the quiet moments, when death and destruction seem far away. In the quiet moments when war seems impossible, when it feels as though living your life is allowed—in those quiet moments he can say it.

In those quiet moments, he can whisper the truth of it against his wife’s swollen stomach;

“I’m really fucking excited to be your dad.”

James had been excited about a baby in theory. Excited in the midst of his grief over his parents, to pass on the Potter name. Excited to actually live a life, to plan a future in the midst of all the tragedy. James had been excited, but what he hadn’t expected, what had taken him entirely by surprise, was the overwhelming love that arrived with a green eyed bundle named Harry.

“…you’re so small.”

Such a small thing to say, in this sterile room at St Mungos. So insignificant when compared to the overwhelming surge of love in his heart. 

Harry is sleeping, fist curled around James’ finger and although he’s uncomfortable in this chair, he can’t bring himself to move it. Doesn’t for one second want to take that finger away from Harry. From his son. He wants to be there, for all of it. He wants to always be the one his son takes comfort from in a dark room at night. He wants to be the one with a finger curled in a small fist, with a baby that knows without doubt, that his dad is going to protect him.

“I’m here mate…” He murmurs softly, tired hazel eyes roaming once more over the sleeping bundle, stuck in rapturous wonder he can’t seem to shake. “I’m always gonna be here.”

Right now, in this moment, James wants nothing more than to mean that. Right now, he no longer thinks dying is some heroic sacrifice. Right now, he knows that to live is the brave part. To live and be a father. To hold his son despite his fears about his ability to parent. To live even when dying a noble death seems like the easier, Gryffindor way to win the war. Living to love his son is bravery. Living to protect his boy at all costs is what it means to be brave. Loving someone, when you know your entire being depends on their happiness…that’s what bravery is.

James knows, in this moment, as he looks at his son. As his finger is held in an impossibly small fist. He knows that whilst he’ll die for Harry in a heartbeat…he’d rather live for him.

“Merlin I don’t half fucking love you.”

His son is sleeping and for one selfish moment James wishes he wasn’t. Wishes he was awake, looking up at him with big green eyes. Looking at him with every faith that James is going to keep him safe. Looking at him with nothing jaded in his expression, with pure, untainted innocence. Looking at him with a belief that James doesn’t know he feels in himself. He wishes for this selfish moment, he can look at his son one more time, he can take that faith and run with it. He can take it and use it to do the one thing he’s afraid of doing.

His son is asleep and James is grateful his selfish side doesn’t win out. James is grateful that his son is asleep and will never hear the words James yells at his wife.

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off ——”

His son is sleeping and won’t hear the fear in his voice. His son is sleeping and won’t grow up to think sacrifice is noble and expected. His son is sleeping and will never have to hear his dad give up his life. He’ll never have to hear it and have it haunt him. He won’t have to wonder what it means to be a man, if James is what that means. He will never have to hear those words and know it was the last thing James ever said. To him. About him. The last Harry knew of his dad didn’t have to be that he died telling them to run.

James doesn’t want that for him. James wants Harry to learn the stories of all the other things he said. He wants Harry to learn how scared he was. He wants Harry to know all the times he whined about changing nappies. He wants Harry to know about the time he asked Lily how long their kid was going to look like Voldemort. He wanted Harry to know the real and the raw. He wanted Harry to grow up without a chip on his shoulder, wanted him to know that sacrificing himself for others wasn’t the ideal he had to grow up with. He didn’t have to aspire for that, didn’t have to meet that impossible standard.

He wants Harry to know that James didn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want Harry to have those words of false bravery haunting him. He wants Harry to know that James was terrified. He wants him to know that the last thing he wanted in all of the world was to leave him. Was to stand, at the bottom of the stairs and know he was going to die without ever having lived up to the word dad. He wants Harry to know that he’ll love him for now and for always.

He wanted Harry to know that what James wanted to be remembered for most of all, was being a dad. Being Harry’s dad.

Harry was meant to be sleeping. He was never meant to hear those words. They were never meant to haunt him. They were never supposed to be the only thing he remembered of the man who’d loved him.