#It's all in the words that drifted just so / or have no equivalent

[tanis-zed]

Sudden brain blast over morning coffee:

John Gaius, necrolord whatever, cringiest man alive, refuses to let the earth die. And not just in the literal sense of locking the earth’s soul in a barbie on ice, in subtler ways too.

The most obvious is the memes, John constantly references memes that are dated even to us, but are in universe from a culture that died ten thousand years ago!

Slightly more subtle is the years. Why does everyone in the Houses measure in earth years? It’s been ten THOUSAND years since anyone lived on the earth! But John keeps them as a unit of measurement.

Even more subtle is the language. In sci-fi and fantasy we’re all used to the idea of the translation for the reader, people don’t speak english in lord of the rings, or dune, but the dialogue is in english for us, the readers. Not in The Locked Tomb. In this series, they ARE speaking english. Modern, bog standard english, to the point where two people born thousands of years apart speak similar enough dialects that one can pose as the other (dulcie/cytheria).

Now, this could possibly fall under that standard sci-fi trope, EXCEPT!!!! In Nona The Ninth, we see the non-house humans! And they speak dozens of languages, like you’d expect after TEN THOUSAND YEARS of linguistic drift!

John is trying SO HARD to keep the earth alive that he’s forced a language to stagnate for, say it with me now, Ten Thousand Years, to the point where even completely new things with no equivalent in our world don’t even have new words, just repurposed old ones (flimsy, sonic).

John Gaius, the first necromancer, could resurrect the planet itself, and millions of people, but he couldn’t resurrect the culture. So, John, cryogenics researcher, tried to put the culture on ice, to keep it as close to the one he remembers as possible. And he still failed.

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

This is purely self-indulgent smuttiness for Kurt, because sometimes cuteness aggression surfaces as really wanting to suck a man's dick. I know we haven't actually seen him in the 97' show yet, but I couldn't help myself. Think of this as a mixture between show Kurt and Comic Kurt. Or imagine any Kurt really.

Tw: MDNI!!!! Oral, slight cursing. Reader was pictured as AFAB while writing but no specific genitals or pronouns are mentioned.

Trying to relax in the X mansion was near impossible. There's always some event, some drama or loudness taking place. Living with gambit was hard enough with the explosions and shit, but after Jubilee moved in…

There was just no Peace in this house. Even though you wouldn't trade it for the world, there wasn't exactly any "me" time, If you catch my drift. It was ridiculously hard to find time for yourself, leaving you a bit more pent up than normal.

On top of that, there was almost always some sexual tension in the house. Rogue and gambit, Jean and Scott. Morph. Literally just Morph, and their innuendos. It was hard enough to see Rogue and Remy tip-toe around eachother, But Jean and Scott? You can't remember a time they weren't sneaking off together to get laid.

All this had left you ridiculous stiff. No free time, surrounded by the adult equivalent of horny teens, it was taking a toll on you. When Kurt came back to the mansion, you were over the moon to see him.

You loved your boyfriend so incredibly much, but never before had you been thinking such sinful thoughts about him. You'd steel glances of his toned arms when he'd hand you something. Glance at his ass when he walked by. Hell, just his smile and laugh would get you going.

He was just so cute. He's loving, and caring, and kind. You felt so lucky to be with him, but that didn't change the fact that you wanted to jump his bones, bad. You wanted to suck this man dry, and as embarrassed you are to admit it, you didn't hesitate to. The moment you finally had him in your bed, you knew you were going to give this man the best head of his life.

“You want to-?” Kurt’s breath hitches, the faint pupils in his yellow eyes dilating. His adam's apple bobbs as he looks away from your heated gaze and sets his eyes on your hands, idly stroking down his soft abdomen. You lean down to kiss him again, tenderly. He returns the kiss eagerly, his tail swaying back and forth on the bed. It takes a moment for you to be able to focus enough to get back on task.

“Please, Kurt.” You beg, breaking the kiss with him. He chases after your lips, and the action is so cute you can't help but kiss him again, and again. You kiss the corner of his mouth, before kissing the crook of his neck, and then his collarbone, dragging your teeth across the velvety blue skin. His soft moans are music to your ears as your hands drag lower, gently cupping the bulge that had started to grow. The air catches in his chest, but you don't tease him for long, moving your hands up and down his chest once again. His tail wraps around one of your wrists.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, one of his hands reaching up to brush the hair out of your face. You can help but lean into the touch with a sigh, mouth watering at the prospect of having him against your tongue. You smile at him, scoffing just lightly.

“Of course I am, silly.” The words come out breathlessly. “Why wouldn't I be?” You trail kisses lower, paying special attention to the curly hair of his happy trail as you softly run your fingers across his skin. Kurt swallows, letting out a quiet whine as you start to slide his sweatpants down to free his cock.

“ ‘Just… Don't want you to feel like you have to, Schatz- Hng..” He lets out a choaked groan as you start to press kisses along his inner thighs as you remove the pants completely. You giggle a little, aiming to make him moan just a little louder as you start to stroke and kiss along his length.

“Believe me, love, I wouldn't be begging for it if I did.” You respond. Kurt opens his mouth to speak again, only to cut himself off with a sharp “Ah!” as you take the head of his cock into your mouth and start to suck. The end of his tail twitches, still wrapped around your wrist, and he chuckles.

“That was a dirty trick,” He says, reaching down to move the hair out of your face. You hum in appreciation as his hand gathers your locks, holding the hair back so he can see you better. You reward him by taking more of him into your mouth, reveling in the noises you receive in return. His skin is smooth and soft, and you find yourself appreciating every inch of him you can fit in your mouth.

You're doing your very best to give him exactly the kind of head he deserves for being so sweet and loving and caring. You think about the chores he's done without asking since he's been back as you swirl your tongue around his tip. The book he brought you as a souvenir as you glide back down, nosing the dark blue patch of curls. God- he was just the most perfect man you had ever met, and you were determined to reward him for that.

“Scheisse- I… Liebe, I'm going to…ah!” Kurt begins to writhe underneath you, and it gives you the best satisfaction when you open your eyes to see his face contorted in the throes of pleasure. You savor the taste of his skin as he begins to twitch in your mouth. His grip tightens around your hair, he free hand opening and clenching as he scrambles for purchase on the bed. You take hold of it, lacing your hands together as best you can just in time for him to reach his peak.

You never really liked the taste or texture of cum, but for Kurt, You'd swallow every drop he gives you. You work him through his high as he squeezes your hand, moaning at the sensation. His moans turn to whines as he becomes sensitive, his tail unwinding Itself from your wrist. You can tell just by looking at it that it might bruise, but you wouldn't dare tell him that.

His grip loosens on your hair as you pull away from him. His yellow eyes are teary and his muscles are relaxed and boneless, but that doesn't stop him from sitting up a little and sliding his hand behind the nape of your neck to pull you in for a deep kiss. His kisses are loving and passionate, they leave you breathless when he pulls away. Kurt licks his lips as he takes you in, chest heaving. You can only imagine how you look with messy hair and swollen, spit stained lips, but there's nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I love you.” He says, after a moment of silence. “I'm in love with you. You know this, Ja?” His other arm wraps around your waist, tugging you even closer to him. You can't wipe the smile off your face as you lean in, resting your forehead against his own, pressing a chaste kiss against his nose.

“I do. I promise.” You reply. Kurt grins, and you can briefly hear the sound of his tail swishing in a way you know means he's thinking about doing something mischievous, and the next thing you know, there's a *Bamf!* as you fall into where he was once sitting on the bed. You have the slightest moment of confusion before Kurt is behind you. He grabs hold of you, leaning back to make you fall backwards into him with your back against his bare chest. He presses kisses along your neck and maneuvers you into his lap. Your legs are hooked over his own, his knees widening the space between your thighs as his hands trail so close to where you want him to be.

“Please, let me return the favor, my love.”

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Good Turn

I rushed to catch up, as I saw the party leaving. Advisor Leukippos was a hopelessly busy man after all. Seeming to drift, with elegant unhurried steps, from appointment to appointment at a somehow impossible speed. It was near impossible to actually catch him NOT in the middle of something. And believe me, I'd been TRYING!

"Advisor! Respected One! Please wait!" I did not so much... shout (as that would be RUDE. One must NEVER be RUDE around the Yanderians. They take GREAT exception. I've looked them up. Have even started taking classes on the subject.) as sorta? Pitched my voice to carry? Kinda the verbal equivalent of that awkward half jog, not run, people do.

My Yanderian pronunciation is god awful. Probably butchering the words, since I can't, you know, actually HEAR any of the nuanced under or over tones. The slight inflections. Yanderian is a language of SONG. Poetry. Composing some of the most beautiful audible art in the known universe. Some of the pieces I've heard? Are like whale song made of starlight. Birdsong made of thunder.

And that's the RECORDINGS! Which are said to miss SO MUCH of the in person nuances, due to technological limitations!

I, being a human, literally don't have the philosophy to even speak the language properly. Never will.

Not the voice box, not the HEARING, and certainly not the lung capacity. But I wanted to at least try, you know? If nothing else, maybe learn the language. There WERE after all, auditory aids for Yanderians with ear injuries. And! I theoretically? Could contact the company? To see if they would be willing to design a set of nuance readers for a human sized head! Adjusted for human hearing and visual ranges!

To be honest? I just was waiting to be able to send my message in Yanderian first. To prove that it wouldn't be a waste of time. Nuance readers were a time consuming project after all! Had to be customized to the life form wearing them.

Leukippos and his entourage had stopped, turned. Some fully, some only half way, to glance in bemused and startled confusion at the (no doubt strange) little creature trying to hacksaw her way through a sentence in their language. None the less, they DID stop for me, for which I was grateful. Their people were fuckin TALL, man. Long legs. Holy SHIT long legs. G-gimme a second! Gotta...! Breathe...!

I could practically feel their amusement from behind the assorted fans. Eyes curving up to match hidden grins.

"No drink to spill upon me, little one? How shall I recognize you now?" Comes teasing song speech from the man I've been trying, for DAYS, to catch outside of any one of his many responsibilities. I think? That particular rumbling quality? Means "playfully said, not insulting you?"

His body language certainly suggests it.

The laugh that forces its way out of my body? Is the sort that you make, while contemplating throwing yourself into the fucking SEA or a bottomless pit, after dumping your breakfast on like... a world leader.

Because I Basically DID.

Which? Ha ha... oh god, kill me. They wear FUCKING WHITE. The higher the rank? The MORE WHITE! (It's the color of Divinity and Honor! Which DOESNT FUCKING HELP! Oh GOD, does this mean what I did was SACRILEGIOUS TOO?!) Nothing but pale, easily and irreversibly stain-able colors, as far as the eye can see! And I accidentally? Dumped my shitty break room "whatever has caffeine and is still in stock" on him!

FIVE TIMES.

I've literally GIVEN UP open air caffeinated drinks because of this! They are the devil! Evil! Trying to ruin both my sanity AND my life! I don't CARE if canned coffee is more expensive! At least I can't DUMP IT ON A DIGNITARY.

The worst part? The ABSOLUTE WORST? Was how understanding and calm Leukippos was, while I lost my shit. It wasn't even MY outfit. He was the one covered in probably still burning coffee! As I hyperventilated and blubbered apologies and cried at him. Hair a mess! Sleep deprived as FUCK because my boss is an asshole. Well... WAS an asshole.

He came over to yell at me.

Did not go well for him. What with that being Rude™ and me having already spilled the beans that the whole incident was CAUSED by me being overworked. Sleep deprivation slows reaction times, you know?

But then... but THEN! It? Kept?? HAPPENING!!!

Turn a corner? Bump! Right down his front. Leaving a lift? Bump! Splash! There goes my cup! Oh but what about a SAFETY cup? I, like FOOL, naively think! Ha ha...

I nearly concuss him! Somehow! Right over the edge of some railing! Slams into the ground at his feet. Nearly hitting him from THREE STORIES UP, right on the head! Pretty sure the sound I made? Was just as painful to HEAR as it was to rip out of my own throat in panic.

No More Cups! Cups are BAD. This? Anti-cup having household.

We'll drink from fucking SPOONS if we have too! Bowls!

NO CUPS!

And every? Single?? Time??? Leukippos not only stops, in the middle of his unspeakably busy schedule, to calm down and reassure this random ass low ranking alien, who's dumped potentially toxic or dangerous unknown alien foodstuffs, just ALL over his incredibly expensive clothes? He's KIND about it! Polite! Makes light hearted little jokes and says not to worry!

It would be one thing, if he was an asshole about it? But!? He's so politely understanding instead? You just end up standing there. Staring in HORROR. At the slowly spreading stains, on that beautiful, delicate, lovely embroidered white fabric. Clothes that are HAND CRAFTED. Take months if not YEARS to make!!! And you just? Feel your soul... die inside.

Kill me. Fucking END me. I deserve it.

Oh my god.... What Have I Done?

But, hey! If he wants to turn my Horrifying Drink Based Trauma Crimes into a cute friendship meet cute? I'm so unbelievably down for that. Literally ANYTHING so I stop feeling like I'm constantly setting this man's ceremonial robes on fire in front of him, then having him ask if I'M okay or need anything.

Speaking of which? Excitedly I reach into my messages bag, asking if he remembers the over robe he lent me. Another victim to our coffee attacks, the over robe was of a style that traditionally hung open, so it only slightly got hit. His main robe suffering the worst of it. Most importantly, though? The over robe is the main decorative one! Heavy on the subtle off white on white embroidery.

It creates a kind of magical looking effect as the light hits it, it's hard to explain.

But! I got coffee'd too, right? Right down my front! So what does he do? Leukippos slides off his over robe and puts it on me. So I won't be walking around in state that would get me socially embarrassed. Cause a scandal. Still not sure if it's a Yanderian or a "their region of the galaxy" thing.

However, that? Left me with a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL and quickly staining white over robe. Not Today, Satan! So I looked up how to save it. Rushed it to a professional cleaners. They kept it from getting worse but couldn't help me, due to the unique fibers the robe was made off, but knew who COULD and sent me on my way.

I ended up in a breathing mask in little Kkbrixxtttishky. And I know, okay? It's mostly oxygen in that dome. Yeah, it IS, but there are enough fatally toxic trace elements in the atmosphere that unless you have a REALLY good filter mask? It's just safer to go full breathing mask. It's not fucking "paranoid" or "racist" or whatever garbage they'll tell you.

Half those fuckers saying that? Wouldn't even TRAVEL there if their LIVES depended on it! For ALL sorts of VERY reasonable excuses, I'm SURE. Bastards. One breathing mask and an uncomfortable decontamination shower between domes is all it takes! It's barely a few minutes delay between domes. Then you're in!

And? The whole area is beautiful. Everyone is super nice, deeply kind (especially when you get lost... like... A LOT). And oh my god? Do you know how badly I wish I could eat the food without, you know, dying? (God those little pie thingies looked so fucking GOOD...)

Anyway! Long and short of it? The Kkbrixxtttishky cleaner knew how to clean the robe! Even stored it in an air tight container so it could be decontaminated for my safe handling. They? Were so sympathetic? Shared my absolute horror at the situation. We're and ARE an absolute gem. Swear to God I plan to recommend them to anyone who can breathe that grade of atmosphere.

It was worth every unit.

Pulling out a clean, neatly folded robe to return? Feels like a triumph.

"The robe of which I gave you, clean once more." He says, recognizing it on sight. The smile behind his fan seems to grow, from what charmed expression I can see of his face, as he steps closer. "Such care, in trusted hands, this robe has found. Little one, you have gone to great lengths. No easy thing, the cleansing of such cloth. And to return it? None would think you less, should you have kept a gift..."

The songspeech has a distinctly warm tone to it, more then the already fond tone that had been there before. Heck yeah~ Knew it! I KNEW I did the right thing! And besides, it WAS the right thing. I tell him as much. He didn't really GIVE me his robe, he leant me it to help me save face.

The Galactic Senate is unspeakably vast. He was running the risk of never seeing it again but did it ANYWAY. Just so I wouldn't be seen walking around covered in a mess. I was just sorry I couldn't fix the OTHER robes my clumsiness had ruined.

"Virtuous little one~" Leukippos says sings, the nuanced tones, which I could only barely hear, suggesting his words were meant to be both teasing and praise. He driftes closer. His other hand elegantly raising to join the first. Both gripping his fan in an... almost coy sort of way? Ah, I'm probably reading that one wrong. Still learning, after all...

"Won't you join me? A walk with good company, is a pleasant one indeed. I have not had chance to speech casually with you before. We would have sent you correspondence; In accordance with tradition and regard, however..."

Leukippos trailed off. Politely not saying the obvious. Which was that it was fuckin impossible to find me in the G.S. directory, since I was effectively a Nobody, and you'd have to know Going IN which Embassy I worked for. Even then, it'd be rough as hell, dragging me name out of that thing. I was the afterthought of an afterthought, that the forgettable once might of had.

But hey, it pays the bills.

I grin. Of course, I'd love to join him. If I'm not getting in the way! The robe is handed off to one of the smiling members of the entourage. Tucked away somewhere. And I am swallowed into the center of the group. Holy SHIT, they are tall. Like? I knew that. On average? Yanderians were about a foot and a half taller then humans... but STILL? I think these guys might be tall for Yanderians? I feel dainty. Wild.

Leukippos helps with my pronunciation, as we walk. Recommends a few new up and coming artists who's works sound fascinating. Distracted by it all, I don't notice our path meandering away from what I know is his next appointment, and towards his office. At least, I don't until we're alone.

His fan lower gently from his face, revealing handsome features.

I startle, don't know where to look. Uuuuuuuh?! No, wait, what!? No. See, I REMEMBER my basics of Yanderian etiquette block, from the sociology lessons I'm taking. He's not allowed to DO that! He can't DO THAT! Illegal! Naked! Why is he FACE NAKED!? That's like taking your SHIRT OFF! Fine around close friends and family. But JUST around them! ONLY them.

Going 0 to 150 REAL FAST, my guy!

Sputtering, I spin around. I saw NOTHING. Sexy lil fangs WHOMS'T? Ha ha! Jawline whaaaat? No, no! I'm actually BLIND. As of just a bit ago! Terrible, really. Should probably see a doctor! Now actually! Yeah. Now sounds good. I'm just gonna-!!

Softly, elegantly, like a dancer's pose, an arm in billowing white reaches over my should to delicately press against the door. It's the old fashioned kind. Swinging, not slide, made of wood. Must of cost more then I make in a year. The hand presses one finger at a time, a precise little sequence of tap tap tap.

Each finger accompanied by the softest sound of sharp nail tips.

I am suddenly hyperaware. H..How did he move that-?

The friendly atmosphere, the comfort, seems to have been sucked out of the room as thoroughly as an open airlock straight to the void. I am alone with a man I do not... now that I think about it... actually know. I FELT like I knew him. We keep meeting. I've been learning about his people. But do I know HIM? Personally? The nature of HIS character?

I... I do not.

And he is a very, VERY powerful man.

My eyes are locked on the hand, gently holding the door shut. I haven't tried my strength against his. Yet. But the numbers are in my head. The odds. Cold sweat prickles and beads along my skin, my breathe shallow, as I stand utterly frozen. It's a beautifully manicured hand, I note. Strong wrist, there a hint of true muscle, under all those robes.

He smells of trees and musk, spices and flowers not native to earth. The sleeve flowing over my shoulder is dangerously soft. His existence a pillar of heat, right behind me, not touching... but close enough. He seems perfectly content to wait me out. My mind is static.

"We fall in love quite easily, did you know? Oh little one..." His words are sighed confession, sung like falling leaves. Another hand comes up, on the other side of me. "My people greatest folly. Our weakness, our despair. Oh little one, we love too much. It frightens people. How quickly and deeply we fall..."

Why was he telling me that? I... I know the most obvious reason why he MIGHT be. B-but surely not! Ha ha. No way. C-can't be! So Why Is He TELLING ME THAT?!

"Courtship requires planning of course. Research. 'Meet-Cutes' I believe they are titled? Did you enjoy them? Were they proper? I'm to take you on outings next, yes? Flowers and material goods. To prove I can provide and know you well, and ah~"

There was mouth pressed to the nape of my neck, breathing deep against my skin. I could feel the almost lazy hunter's grin, splitting those lips into a smirk. Sharp teeth and hot breathe, dangerously close and already lusting to leave behind marks.

"And I DO know you so well. I have made certain of that, my little one. Dearest little one. Jewel of my heart, soon to be keeper of my name. I will court you in your ways, then I will court you in mine. Our wedding will be beautiful."

My heart was racing. I had to get out of here. Go and never, EVER come back. Oh god, at this distance? There was no WAY he couldn't hear everything. I had to lie! Do something! Anything! Just get out of this room. Back to Earth's embassy!

I... I couldn't move. Afraid. I was afraid.

He's so big. So much stronger then me. I have to get out.

"You shall such peace and love on Yanderia, darling. The other partners will rejoice for a new friend and you will be welcomed. Isn't that lovely? There is so much we do not show outsiders. But you, little one?"

"You will have the rest of your life to learn it ALL~"

[ericshoney]

Party girl ~ Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Matt goes to one of Tara's party with Nick and Chris, only to find interest in the quiet girl in the kitchen.

Warnings: probably swearing, fluff, alcohol mentioned

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

Matt didn't want to go to Tara's party, he wasn't in the mood. However, like most times, Chris and Nick persuaded him to go, and here he was, driving to her place.

"Can't I just go home and pick you both up later?" He suggested.

"No Matt!" Chris shouted.

"Come on, let's go." Nick said.

Matt sighed as he followed his brothers towards the loud and lively house. Music was blasting out and many people were already drinking and dancing.

The trio walked into the house, greeting a few people as they walked and soon found the host in the kitchen, drinking a bottle of beer. She smiled once she saw the identical three.

"Hey guys! I'm so glad you all could make it!" She exclaimed, emphasising the all, thinking Matt wasn't going to show.

"We're all happy to be here." Chris said, throwing his brother a cheeky smile.

"Yeah, fucking ecstatic." Matt grumbled, earning a slap from Nick, who was the only one who heard.

"Well there's soda in the fridge, help yourselves!" Tara cheered, rushing off to greet some more guests who had arrived.

Nick went over to the fridge and grabbed three sodas, passing them to Chris and Matt. The three quietly watched the party go on before heading to mingle. Matt followed behind Nick, throwing the odd word in here and there with a conversation.

But as Nick was chatting away to Larray, Matt glanced around, his focus soon being drawn to the kitchen where a girl sat on the kitchen counter and Tara next to her.

Matt's feet worked quicker than his brain and he drifted from Nick and headed to the kitchen. Tara noticed his presence first and smiled.

"Hey Matt, I have the female equivalent of you here." She said with a small laugh.

Matt looked at the girl who was still sat on the counter, a can of coke in her hand, a blank expression on her face.

"Fuck off." She grumbled.

"Matt this is Y/n, Y/n meet Matt, he's not really a party fan either." Tara introduced.

"Nice to meet you." Matt said, offering a hand to the quiet girl.

She silently shook his hand, a small smile making a way to her face.

"I'll be right back....Jake get the fuck down your way to drunk!" Tara shouted, running off to her friend.

Matt chuckled slightly and lent against the counter next to Y/n. The girl quietly sipped her drink, swaying her feet softly.

"So....not much of a talker?" Matt asked carefully.

"Not really....sorry." She answered.

"No it's okay. I'm the same really, only talking around my brothers." He replied.

"Too loud as well." She admitted.

Matt looked around and saw the backyard was fairly empty. He nodded his head that way, looking at the girl.

"Want to get some air?" He suggested.

Y/n nodded and hopped off the counter, following the slightly taller male towards the outdoor space. Both sitting on the sofa, relaxing slightly.

"Is that better?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, thank you." She replied.

"So, how do you know Tara?" Matt questioned, trying to break the ice.

"We've been friends for years, I just moved back to LA a week ago." She answered.

"Oh that's cool, did you move in with Tara then?" He responded.

"No, I got my own apartment down the street, but I'm here most of the time." She replied with a small giggle.

He chuckled and smiled, nodding at her reply. The two feel quiet for a bit before Y/n spoke up again.

"If your not a party guy, what made you come here?" She asked.

"My brothers, Chris and Nick. I've avoided many parties but they persuaded me to come. Now I'm here I'm actually happy." He answered.

"How come?" She questioned, tilting her head slightly.

"Cause I got to meet you." He replied, smiling at the girl.

Y/n smiled as the two continued getting to know each other. Both were smiling and laughing, coming out of their shells, not realising what the time was. Soon Chris and Nick came out, seeing their brother chatting and smiling with the unknown girl.

"Hey Matt, you ready to go home?" Nick asked, drawing his attention away.

"Oh uh yeah. Text me?" Matt replied, turning his attention back to Y/n.

She smiled and nodded as Matt left with his brothers, the three getting back in the car and driving home quietly.

"So...who's the girl?" Chris asked as they arrived home.

"Y/n, a friend of Tara's. She's really cool and sweet." Matt replied, smiling happily.

Nick and Chris both shared a look, smiling at each other.

"So, happy we dragged you to the party?" Nick asked.

"Very happy." Matt nodded.

At the start of the night, Matt was unhappy to go to Tara's party, now after meeting Y/n, he was much happier to make a new friend and maybe something more in the future.

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Guzma Fluff Alphabet

first piece of the year ignore that it's feb

thanks for the anon who requested this! gn! reader, some mild angst and insecurity. not proofread lol

Enjoy!

A = Activities (what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time?)

He LOVES a lazy morning together, just snuggling and goofing off in bed, drifting in-and-out of sleep in each other’s arms. He loves to make you laugh and fluster by blowing raspberries on your tummy or kissing your neck. Your slightly raspy voice and bleary eyes and bedhead… it’s just his favourite image in the world

He’s also a capital G Ganer (well actually he just plays whatever the Pokémon world’s equivalent to CoD is) so he likes playing with you or just having you watch him play how riveting. Of course, he’s up for playing sone of the games you like, your Pokémon Crossing island is so cute!!

Guzma is a bit of a homebody when it comes to hanging out with his boo, so things like just snuggling together while you binge a show or movie, or while you show each other asinine Tiktoks, are totally up his alley. It’s just a no-pressure way of spending time with you.

Also, living on the beautiful Ula’Ula island, you visit the beach ALL the time (plus it’s free!)

B = Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

You are just so… kind. So kind. Not just to him, but to everyone. He’s the big bad bug man, a bully, a (reformed) petty criminal and yet you treat him so well. You’re kind to his scary bug Pokémon too, kind to the grunts. You’re just a wonderful person, too pure for this world.

Plus, you’re cute as fuck AND you got a nice booty. The total package.

C = Comfort (how do they help their s/o when they feel down? what makes them feel better?)

Guzma…. he’s not great with words. He really doesn’t know what to say when you’re not feeling great, doesn’t know what words will help comfort you. But he can give you a hug, take you into his big arms, hold you to his warn chest, and gently stroke your back with his large hand. He’ll let you wet his shirt with your tears if you need to, he’ll hold you anyways if you don’t.

And when you’re ready, he’ll make a corny joke to break the tension and make you smile again, he LOVES your smile :)

Unsurprisingly, he hates feeling vulnerable. He’s the big, bad, boss, he shouldn’t be crying. He’s ashamed of this “weak” side of himself, so he tends to lock himself away, distance himself from you. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Of course, because you’re concerned for his wellbeing, you weedle your way into his room, and let him bury his face in your stomach and hold him.

Just talk, about anything. Distract him with stories from your work/school, funny tales from your childhood, that one Togedemaru that keeps invading your garden. Play with his hair. Make him forget.

D = Dreams (how do they picture their future with their s/o and in general?)

Before he met you, he kinda stopped having dreams…. he failed his trials, wasn’t talking with his family, was just stuck in that ol’ Pokémon-evil-team shtick.

And then you came into his life, and suddenly, he’s thinking about getting a job, one that’ll probably be minimum wage and gruelling, but he’ll work himself half to death if it means he’ll be worthy of you. Maybe he’ll even go to college.

He just wants to be the kind of man you want to spend your life with, that you can give proud toasts about at your milestone anniversaries. Whether said life involves you two getting married and/or having a couple kiddos or not, he doesn’t mind either way.

E = Equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or are they rather passive?)

Despite him being the big boss and all, he’s actually the more passive one. Honestly, he’s more into being chill and casual and cosy with you. So, you have to be the one to drag him out of the house to do something. You’re the one who suggests activities and food choices and all sorts.

F = Fight (how quick are they to forgive their s/o? what are they like in an argument? who says sorry first?)

Unsurprisingly, Guzma has a bit a lot of a temper. So, it means he’s quick to anger, and he’ll get quite thick. A lot of it is due to his insecurities, so seemingly innocuous things can set him off.

He’s very accusatory in fights, loud and in-your-face. Even a little mean :( (but he will immediately crumple if you start to cry)

He’s been working on himself though, so he will own up to his mistake. He’ll slink over to you, hunched over, hands buried in his pockets, gaze tilted downwards as he mumbles a “Sorry baby…”

He’s not embarrassed to say sorry, he’s embarrassed he got so emotional and angry in the first place. He NEVER wants to make you feel upset or unloved by him.

G = Gifts (what kind of things do they gift to their s/o? are they spontaneous or do they stick to special events like anniversaries?)

SNACKS. snacks. s n a c k s.

You will NEVER go hungry dating Guzma! Every time you see him, he’s at least got your favourite candy bar or fruit slices on him. He’s got a little basket in his room full of crispy corn snacks and chips for you two to munch on while you’re hanging out. When you tell him you’ve had a bad day, he WILL buy you a pint of ice cream for you to cry into.

Other gifts he likes to give you tend to be cute but small. Little plushes and keyrings and knickknacks. He likes picking out quirky things that he thinks suits you from thrift shops and markets and such.

For birthdays and such, he’s more likely to do a little collection of smaller gifts than one big gift. He’s always way more into giving you a memorable experience than anything else.

He’d really love to spoil you with diamonds and designer goods, but he ain’t got the money for that.

H = Heart Eyes (what are they like in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their love? do they brag about their s/o to others?)

Guzma is so. fucking. happy. Like, genuinely on cloud nine. He’s sure of himself, cockier than usual, always having this smug grin on his face because he knows he’s caught a baddie.

The real question is, when is he not bragging about you?? He’s already boastful as is, so with you in his life. It’s practically comical how much he brags about you.

I = Impression (what first attracted them to their s/o? how accurate was their first impression to how their s/o actually is?)

Typically, when Guzma sees someone he’s attracted to, it’s all horniness on his part – but with you, it was different. You were just so beautiful, cute and pretty and kind and lovely. He was in awe.

He, of course, still thought you were incredibly hot and sexy, but he was feeling more than that for you, even at first sight.

J = Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?)

Very jealous. As cocky as he is, he’s deeply insecure, and is convinced he doesn’t deserve you… but that manifests as possessiveness. He’s terrified of losing you, especially to someone else.

When a love rival is about, he has an arm around you, using his large frame to shield you from whoever he’s worried about (whether it’s warranted or not). He’s all over you too, kissing you, touching you, making it obvious to everyone that you’re his.

And if anyone does try make a move on you? It’s gonna be a battle and not necessarily a pokemon one

K = Kiss (are they a good kisser? what was their first kiss like? where do they kiss the most?)

Oh, Guzma loves to kiss! He’s a playful, but passionate kisser, who loves making you smile with his smooches. He also can’t just give you one kiss, it has to be a flurry of kisses. He just loves having his lips on you.

His favourite place to kiss, other than your lips and neck, is your tummy! It makes you all giggly and squirmy and it warms his heart. He really likes your abdomen and he thinks it deserves all the attention!

more guzma kissing headcanons here!

L = Little Things (what are the little things they love about their s/o? are they attentive?)

omg when you hit him with that cute little smile of yours? His heart melts. And if you giggle too? Something get this man into heart surgery, his heart can’t TAKE the cuteness!

He loves your hands too, they’re so small compared to his, so delicate. He loves the way they fit in his hands, he treats them as if they’re delicate (which he has never done with anything before)

M = Marriage (do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the wedding be like?)

Guzma would die if he got the chance to be your hubby. Spending the rest of his life with his boo, your love cemented and recognised by all AND a sick-ass party with CAKE? he’s sold.

Well, he would be, if it weren’t for his pesky insecurities getting in the way. He’s not good enough for you, he tells himself, you deserve better. You deserve the big white wedding and the stability other men can provide.

Of course, you knock him upside the head with the biggest reality-check of his life, and he finally comes to realisation he needs to marry you

Saves up to buy you a nice ring, and to take you out on a real night on the town (well mainly, that really nice Paldean place you wanted to try, and some ice cream afterwards). He takes you to the beach then, to watch the sunset. He’s sweating buckets the whole time, and when he finally gets down on one knee, he fucking forgets his whole speech and after a whole minute of awkward silence he eventually just says;  “..Marry me?”

You say yes of course, and later that year you tie the knot at that very beach. It’s cute and a little casual, there’s a buffet, one of the grunts are DJ-ing (your relatives are requesting 80s classics he’s never heard of). It’s genuinely just a really fun, amazing night, made even better by the fact that YOU’RE MARRIED TO GUZMA!!!

N = Nicknames (what do they call their s/o? what do they get called?)

Does he ever even call you by your actual name? In sincere, raw moments maybe. But most of the time, he’s calling you “boo” (his personal fave), “Babe/baby”, “cutie”, “cutiebug” (don’t let the grunts hear him call you that, he’ll never live it down) or some play on your name.

He even hits you with the “bro” sometimes.

You call him things like “Guz” or “Big guy” (He likes that one, makes him feel big and protective). Occasionally you’ll call him “Ma” which gets a chuckle outta everyone.

O = Open (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? is it easy for them to share?)

Guzma puts on the big bad boss front a lot, it’s to protect himself. He is deeply insecure in himself – but he doesn’t want anyone to know that, let alone you, the person he loves so much.

But he can’t hide it forever, and as you become more and more serious about each other, those walls are chipped away by your kindness and your understanding nature. You start getting glimpses into his vulnerable side, into parts of his past that he’s not fond of. Soon enough, you’ve pulled away all that chitinous armour, and found the insecure boy beneath, who you love with all your heart nonetheless.

P = Pancakes (are they a good cook? how often do they cook for their s/o? breakfast in bed or fancy dinner dates?)

Guzma’s not bad at all… he just needs a little more practise, and a little more variety. He tends not to cook for himself, mostly eating takeout and ready meals. Sometimes he just has an energy drink instead of breakfast. He does cook for you though, because he wants to treat you right (and also because he doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob)

He can make a standard pasta sauce, a curry sauce, a toasty, pancakes and a chilli. As the two of you continue to date, he starts to up his culinary catalogue (sometimes to disastrous effect oops)

Sometimes you two are lazy, or just have cravings, and he’ll buy you takeout too. He tends to stick to pizza, but you can convince him to expand his horizons (he ended up really enjoying sushi!)

When bringing you for a night on the town, he mainly just brings you to fast-food places – he’s broke – but every now and then he’ll bring you to a nice restaurant to wine and dine you.

Q = Quirk (a random quality/ability that is beneficial to their relationship.)

You have scary dog or scary mon?  privileges. Absolutely nobody is gonna mess with you when you’re out with the big, bad bug man.

also you two lovingly recreate the “he asked for no pickles” meme all the time

R = Romance (how romantic are they? are they cliché or creative?)

Guzma is surprisingly romantic. He thinks you deserve the world, and while he doesn’t think he can give it to you, he tries his best. He likes to get you flowers when he can or take you on cute (but cheap) dates.

He’s bad with words, he’d love to wax poetic about your beauty and the love he has for you, but it never really comes out how he’d like. You get the sentiment though.

S = Sleep (who falls asleep first? do they need their s/o close to them? do they have any bad habits?)

It really depends, sometimes he hits the pillow and he’s out like a light, other times he likes to stay up and watch your cute face as you drift off.

Whenever you sleep in the same bed, you always end up with your limbs tangled in his, or with him enveloping you as the big spoon. You’re his teddy bewear, through and through. He needs to snuggle you to get a good night’s sleep

He snores SO LOUD and drools

T = Thrill (do they need to spice up their relationship with new things or do they stick to a routine? how often do they do new things?)

Personally, he’d prefer to just be chill and hang out – but he doesn’t want to bore you, or make you think he doesn’t care, so he does try and bring you on new and fun experiences, even ones he totally doesn’t have interest in, just because he thinks you’d like them. In the early stages, he brought you to things that neither of you enjoy, just because they were popular, and he was afraid he’d look like a bad boyfriend if he didn’t bring you there. He grew out of this once he became more secure in himself and in your relationship.

U = Unity (did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? what traits do they share?)

The introduction of you in his life is like a pivotal branching point in the timeline. From day one he wanted to be the kind of man you deserve, and he starts to fill that role little by little. If you’d ask him today, he’d still say you’re too good for him, but both of you can see the metamorphosis he’s gone through. He’s kinder, gentler, more patient, more understanding, more generous, and more confident in himself.

V = Value (how important is their relationship to them? what is it worth compared to other things in their life?)

You are Guzma’s number one priority. Nothing has mattered nor will EVER matter more to him than you. If you asked, he’d steal the moon for you. Your smile is the most precious thing to him in the world, he’d do anything to keep it.

W = Wild Card (a random fluff headcanon.)

Totally up for getting matching tattoos or piercings… or even just getting the ink by himself to honour you!

X = XOXO (do they like to kiss and cuddle? are they upfront about their relationship or rather shy when in public?)

The real question is… when is he not touching you?

He always has a hand on you, holding your hand, stroking your back, smacking dat ass… in public, in private. There is absolutely zero ambiguity whether you two are dating, because his displays of affection do not dwindle under the eyes of others.

Sure, he loves to cop a feel, but he’s also really big on hugs and kisses and cuddles. Having you in his arms just makes him feel whole, y’know?

Naturally, due to his body type, he is an AMAZING hugger.

Y = Yearning (how do they cope when they spend time away from their s/o? do they miss their s/o?)

Guzma does NOT take your absence well. You are his sunshine after all, his cinnamon applin, the cream in his coffee, the chocolate sauce on his ice cream. A day without you is a lifetime of misery for him.

When you’re apart you text all the time, and facetime in the evenings. Not being able to feel you physically hurts him, but being able to see your cute face and listen to your sweet voice definitely lessens it somewhat. You fall asleep on facetime with each other often.

Z = Zoo (do they have pets? do they want some in the future?)

Bugs, bugs, bugs, bugs. So many bugs! Small ones, big ones, cute ones, scaey ones… all the bugs!

[withahappyrefrain]

Pad See Ew and Parking Spots

The last thing you need while sick is the equivalent of a Hangnail over.....or is it?

Another entry to the Parking Spots Universe read part 1 and part 2!

Warnings: Banter, teasing, Jake being an absolute simp, no y/n but reader's nickname is Venus

Your head felt like someone had filled it with cotton and was pressing down. Stuffed and fuzzy, the pressure on your sinuses made turning your head a labor of work.

The constant pressure on your face made it impossible to enjoy the unexpected time off from work, as watching TV was too strenuous.

Instead, you put yourself on bed rest, trying to find a comfortable spot so you could close your eyes and nap.

Just when sleep was within reach, the loud vibrations of your phone ringing pulled you out of your moment of peace.

Pushing away the used tissues and weighted blankets, you found your phone, the name of the caller lighting up.

Human Hangover.

Of course. It's like he had a sixth sense, always able to annoy you at the worst possible time.

You put the phone back in the midst of pillows, allowing it to continue to ring. Sure, you could text him, but why should you?

You were getting too close anyways.

During the last parking lesson, you actually smiled at the Men's Health poster child.

It wasn't even something you noticed yourself doing. He just looked so fucking ridiculous, blasting 'Venus' by the Bananarama in his dumb Jeep as he waited for you to walk up.

You had half a mind to turn around and shut the door. He was ridiculous, bobbing his head up and down to the music, giving you an exaggerated wink.

Had he not said anything, you wouldn't have gone the whole night not realizing what you had done.

But he was obnoxious, so naturally he had to let out a breathless wow as he leaned his head against the steering wheel with stars in those sea green eyes.

"What?" You asked, rolling your eyes as you got into the passenger seat.

"Your smile."

The worst thing was that you couldn't even muster up a sneer, an eye roll, a snarky remark.

Instead, a warm flush had overtaken your cheeks due to his statement. His stupid, corny words were having an effect on you, one that didn't give you an immediate migraine.

As fun as it was to get free dinners, have picnics on the beach, and take jabs at him, it had gone too far. You found yourself that night looking at his lips much longer than you ever intended.

So getting sick was actually perfect. You would ignore him, giving him that final push to go talk to the long list of other girls who were waiting for him. Girls that would let him into their beds, let him treat them as a hump and dump.

Sure, his patience was admirable-you truly thought after the third date-parking lesson- he would finally get the hiny. But he was just playing a long game. As soon as you'd let him in, he'd leave. Therefore, you should leave first. It was perfect.

You downed some NyQuil and put your phone on silent. A pang of guilt flared up in your chest when you saw the several missed calls.

It was for the best. The last thing you wanted, nay, the last thing you needed, was another person to remind you that you're only good enough for a fuck, not a relationship.

So you swallowed the guilt and closed your eyes, finally able to drift off to sleep.

Whether minutes or hours had gone by, you couldn't say. The loud banging on your door not only woke you up, but caused your heart rate to skyrocket and your blood to run cold.

Who the fuck…..

You had half a mind to pull the covers over your head. But something in the back of your head told you that the pounding wouldn't cease.

Using all your strength, you willed yourself out of bed, pushing away the covers and used tissues, grabbing your glasses to clear your vision. Slowly but surely, you made your way through your apartment to the entrance door.

Upon opening it, you immediately wished you had stayed in bed.

“Oh my god, you’re ok-wow, you look rough. Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“I can see why the navy kept you, your observation skills are astounding,” you deadpanned. Your reflexes were too slow, bogged down by the cold you had, allowing Hangover to prevent the door from closing on him.

“Why are you out of bed, you should be sleeping!” He said, sounding closer to your mother than his usual obnoxious self.

“I was doing that until you came,” you gritted out between your teeth.

Jake stopped dead in his tracks, “You wear glasses.”

Fuck.

Jake didn't think it was possible to find you more attractive. But you wear glasses apparently. Why don't you wear them more often?

"Yes, I also have exactly one head if you didn't know by now," you rolled your eyes, "Officer Hangover-"

"Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Hangover, is there anything I can help you with? Because right now my priority is getting better-"

You stopped as you felt one of his hands gently press against your forehead. When did his eyes get so bright and intense? You had to look away from his stare.

"You're burning up," he murmured, his voice low and deep. God, you hated his voice. How it was smooth like whiskey, topped off with that slight drawl.

His stupidly large fingers gently grasped your chin, the cool metal of his class ring grazing your skin. Before you could comment, he titled your jaw up, forcing you to look at him and his ridiculous eyes.

"We gotta get you to bed V."

"That's what I was trying to do before you- hey!" Embarrassment flooded you as he picked you up like it was nothing. Within seconds, he was carrying you bridal style

"Put me down Seresin!" Jake couldn't help but smile at your words. Seresin. It was his last name, but you were calling him by one of his names.

Progress.

"Y-you're gonna get sick, put me down!"

"I'm in the military. I've had every vaccine known to man and then some."

You tried to jerk away from the circles his fingers were drawing on your back. Instead, your face landed right into his chest, the smell of cedar wood so strong, you could smell it faintly through your stuffed nostrils.

You pretended to gag, needing something to distract you from the fact he just picked you up so damn easily and was able to maneuver your body like it weighed nothing.

"Y'know how I can tell that you worked at Hollister? You douse yourself in that damn cologne." You mumbled against his broad chest.

Jake shrugged, "You don't complain."

He had a point, and that was the worst part.

"I-I need to sleep," you mumbled, something Jake found adorable.

"That's what I'm doing." Suddenly your back was touching your mattress. The hand Jake had on the back of your skull (when did that happen) gently guided your head to your pillow. His hands moved to your glasses, gently taking them off and placing them on your nightstand.

"How….how did you even find my bedroom? Are you stalking me?" Your weighted blanket was pulled over your chest, bringing warmth to your shivering body.

Jake chuckled, "You live in a one bedroom apartment. I'd be worried if I couldn't find your bedroom."

You knew you were ill because Crimson Chin was making sense. He needed to leave and you clearly needed more NyQuil.

A snarky comment was about to leave your lips when it was silenced by his hand gently tracing the skin on your cheek. Fuck, why was he so touchy? It was weird and you hated it, given the fluttering your stomach was currently experiencing.

"Just sleep, okay? I got ya Venus."

No, he most certainly did not. You two weren't anything, he was just some weirdo who couldn't park for shit and looked at you like he was seeing the wide open starry sky for the first time.

You were adorable sleeping. The way your lips were slightly parted, a cute little snore escaping from your mouth.

Jake could stare at you sleeping all day. He was quite tempted to, but he had other things he needed to do.

—----------------------------------------

"Hey, Venus. Wake up." When did you fall asleep? How long had it been?

Given that the sun was now setting, it couldn't have been too long, right?

Regret filled your entire being when you opened your eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" The human persona of regret and annoyance was in your fucking bedroom.

"How much NyQuil did you take?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Clearly not enough, as it didn't keep me from waking up to a nightmare."

He let out that low chuckle that made you so angry, your face heated up, "A nightmare? Most folks usually refer to me as their savior."

"It's been made pretty well known that the United States government doesn't have the greatest judgment, so I don't know why you're counting them."

Jake shrugged as he sat at the edge of your bed. It was then you noticed that he had one hand behind his back.

You reached for glasses, putting them back on. It took everything in Jake to stick to his plan and not tell you how absolutely stunning you looked.

He definitely needed to come up with a plan regarding getting you to wear your glasses more often.

"Well, I think this will change your mind," He grinned as he revealed what he was hiding behind his broad, well-defined back.

Your brows knit together in confusion as you stared at his hand. You look up at his face, then back down.

A container of Pad See Ew.

The question why forms on your tongue. It dies before it can even leave your lips, as memories of your first parking lesson flood back to you.

How could he…..better yet, why would he? Why remember such a minute detail, especially one that was a rare situation?

"I'm not going to sleep with you." Tension fills your body as you shift away from him. The air in your lungs feels constricted, almost as if part of you felt regret over your words.

It was the part of you that you had tried to squash so many times; the part that still had hopeless, naive dreams about being wanted. The part of you that always led to heartbreak whenever you followed it.

"Is that all you think I want?" His voice is soft.

Jake's not angry. If anything, he's fucking concerned because he thought that within the past month, he's made it pretty dog-gone clear he was crazy about you. That he thought the world of you.

Maybe Javy was wrong and he should have shown her the list of potential baby names he had saved on his phone. Perhaps that would have convinced you-

"Why else would you remember such a stupid detail?" You wanted to believe your anger was directed at him. But deep down, you knew it was also directed at all the jerks before him, the ones who made it impossible for you to enjoy a nice gesture.

Because it was never just to be nice.

"Because it's important and I enjoy listening to you?" It comes out as a question, though Jake's more so questioning why you find it so hard to believe that he wouldn't pay attention to you.

"I-I always remember what you say-the jokes and the non-jokes," He's trying to reassure you, but all you do is move away from him.

"You're wasting your time, Hagman. Just cut your losses now and go talk to the other girls who are dying to let you into your pants."

Your words are sour, much like the cold medicine you had taken hours ago.

"Why do you think that's all I want from you?" The tone he's using is new to you; it's not just soft, but there's a sadness that hangs around his words.

You shrug, your eyes now focused on your nails, "It's all anyone wants from me."

Jake's mind is now filled with the potential scenarios that would have led you to say such a thing, to believe such a ridiculous thing about yourself.

He has to remind himself to put down the container of food so he doesn't crush it out of anger or worse, spill it on your comforter.

"Who told you that?" You ignore his words, your brain too busy scolding you.

Why did you ever say yes to him? Why did you think you could control yourself? Stupid, stupid, stupid! You get yourself hurt every damn time.

"Hey," his hand on your shoulder breaks you out of the trance, "Who the fuck told you that?"

You jerk away at his touch. Why was he making this so damn difficult?

"No one had to tell me, I was able to figure it out pretty quickly when every attempt I've made at a relationship ends with the other person leaving me after they get bored."

Your eyes refuse to look at him; you can't. Not when memories of goodbyes over text messages and it's just not working, sorry are replaying in your head, mixed with flashbacks of nights where the loneliness was so overpowering, you cried yourself to sleep, desperate for something, anyone, to make the heartache just stop.

It was why not feeling was easier.

"Just stop wasting your time and leave me alone." There's a bitterness lacing your words as you spit them out. Your knees are brought to your chest, forcing your back to straighten.

Of course you're bitter. You dreamed about love, how great it would be to find someone to spend the rest of your life with. As a child, you didn't imagine your wedding but rather being married.

The world was cruel in the "lessons" it taught you. Not that you took them to heed, as now you were using all your willpower to not cry in front of the latest mistake.

It's an attempt to make yourself look stronger, tougher, not fragile. Jake knows it because it's what he's done so many times for God knows how long.

The front you put up is like staring at his own reflection. Deflect, make a snarky comment, and then push everyone away. No one can see that you're imperfect if no one is around.

Anger fills his body. Not at you, but at the fact he wasn't able to meet you before all those idiots filled your head with the idea that you weren't good enough. Angry that he couldn't go and beat those assholes up for making you think you weren't worthy of anyone's time.

So instead, he scoots his hand closer to you; not on your skin, but close enough to feel his presence.

"Look, I recognize I can't go and beat those assholes up for being the biggest idiots I've never even met," maybe if your thoughts hadn't consumed you, you would have chuckled at his words.

Maybe.

Jake Seresin isn't the best with words. Or emotions. Always was told they were bad (thanks Dad).

But like hell if he's going to just sit there and let you think that he doesn't think the world of you.

So, he swallows all the doubt trying to creep into his mind and is honest.

"But, I can tell ya this. I like you. A lot. Everyone on base is telling me I need to go get my head checked, but I know it's just because being with you on the ground is the closest I've felt to flying."

"And yes," he sees the way you look at him, question forming on your tongue, "I did compare being with you like flying. It's my life and I don't know…..I always thought it would just be my life and then I met you in that parking lot and you're bright and passionate and always say what's on your mind and I don't know I just....I want to do shit with you. Like take you to dinner and watch movies and bake cookies."

"You can bake?" No, that wasn't what you took away from his declaration (something you thought only was a thing in movies). But you needed more time to process what he had just said.

"Every year my mom puts on a Christmas Eve dinner and goes balls to the walls with cookies. My siblings and I always got roped into helping her, so we learned all her recipes. Of course, since I was the youngest, I mainly watched and stole spoonfuls of the dough until I was sixteen. But I can make her famous snickerdoodle cookies with my eyes closed."

It was then you noticed that when he smiled, the corners of his eyes creased.

It was endearing. Absolutely, completely endearing. His smile was comforting, like a warm fire on a winter night.

"Earl gray and lavender."

His brow knitted together in confusion; was it at your statement or that there was a small sliver of a smile when you finally looked at him?

"That's my specialty cookie," you explained as you reached for a tissue to wipe your nose, "I'll show you some time. Preferably when I'm not full of mucus and snot."

Some time. As in, you wanted to see him in the future. Show him a part of you.

"I'd like that a lot," he passed you the box of tissues.

The silence isn't uncomfortable. It's nice, serene even.

The small meow of your cat, Rugleach's way of alerting you that she was about to jump on your bed broke the quietness.

"Hey girl," Jake said to her, leaning down to scratch her chin. Your eyes widened at the sight of your cat, who hated all men, who was now purring and straining her neck to receive more pets from Jake.

Well, if that wasn't a sign.

Fuck.

"So this is the girl with more kills than me?" Jake asked, a cheeky grin adorning his handsome face.

"Yup, that's Rugleach. My protector from mice and birds," You smiled, leaning over to scratch her head, her purring being heard over your sniffles.

"You know," Jake paused, "I do have a security clearance so if you were to give me the names of those asshats , I could-"

"What, do you get a free stalking pass from the NSA?" You snorted.

"Yeah, it's part of my benefits," Jake responds, not missing a beat.

The corners of your mouth turn fully upwards and the most amazing sound comes out.

A laugh.

It's beautiful and melodic, just like you. The corners of your mouth are fully turned upwards, revealing a smile so bright and big, the corners of your eyes crease and your nose scrunches up.

Jake is thankful he's sitting down, but if he wasn't, he would have gotten on one knee and asked you to marry him right then and there.

So instead, he settles for leaning over to gently adjust your glasses that had been crooked.

"With a smile like that, why on earth would anyone let you go?"

His words combined with the tender action left you speechless, realization hitting you like a freight train.

Fuck, he was being sincere.

He was sincere the whole damn time. Ever since you first yelled at him in the parking lot.

A crumbled, used tissue hit his chest.

"Sap," you said, eyeing him with a teasing grin.

"This sap just brought you your favorite sick food. Besides," He leaned in, breath hot on your ear, "You don't seem to be complaining."

"I would never complain about Pad See Ew, Jake" you turned, hoping he couldn't feel how warm your skin was from his proximity.

It's the first time you said his name correctly. He loves it, loves the way you say it, how it rolls off your tongue so naturally. How sweet it sounds coming from your lips. How it’s your way of not just acknowledging what he said, but also how you felt about it.

He’d do anything and everything to hear you say it again.

He handed you the container, along with a pair of chopsticks. In return, you handed him the remote.

"If you put on some American military propaganda film, I'm kicking you out," You told him before taking a bite out of the dish, the noodles and sauce comforting on your throat.

Jake laughed, his hand squeezing your knee, which was a little annoying because it sent more heat through your body, "I mean, I just get really hard when Apocalypse Now comes on, can ya blame me?"

Your eyes couldn't roll back any harder, "That's a movie I've never seen and I know I'm not missing out."

"Wait, you've never seen it?" Jake's emerald eyes narrowed, concern filling them, "it's actually a great movie-not that it's my favorite, I mean, I thoroughly enjoy it but I don't get hard while watching it-"

He was rambling. Gone was the cocky pilot and instead was a guy who looked downright nervous.

You loved it.

"If I weren't so sick, I'd kiss you right now," his lips parted, though no words came out, "You should ramble more often Hangover, it's a good look on you," no attempt was made to hide your smirk at his reddening cheeks.

Jake sees this and it was ridiculously hot but also somehow totally adorable, probably due to the way the tip of your nose was so red from blowing into tissues and he just couldn't help himself.

A hand cradled half of your jaw, tilting your head up, making your lips in the perfect position for Jake Hangover Hangnail Hangman Seresin to kiss you.

You moved your lips against his, as best as you could when holding chopsticks and a plastic container.

His lips were like electricity, coursing through your veins. Your body was frozen, but not due to panic (which was the usual reason).

With anyone else, you would have been pissed that they thought kissing you while you were sick was a good idea. But with Jake….you didn't just expect it, you didn't mind it?

Yeah, you….didn't mind it at all.

Unfortunately, having a stuffy nose made breathing quite difficult, which is why you had to break away.

"You taste like Pad See Ew and NyQuil," Jake commented before pressing his lips against your right cheek. It would have to suffice while air returned to your lungs.

A laugh escaped your lips, "What did you expect? Again, you really should look into suing the government for all the brain cells you lost while in-what's it called? Grid lock?"

"So you do listen to me!"

"Can you not remind me of my mistakes? Thanks," you deadpanned, not minding the chuckle he let out. His lips pressed against your forehead, bringing a small smile to your face.

"Also, if you get sick, you can't blame me. Nor will I feel as inclined to bring you Mac and Cheese," you added before taking another bite of your food.

"I don't ever get sick," He scoffed, making you roll your eyes as you adjusted your glasses.

"That is exactly what someone says before they get deathly ill. I'm not going to figure out parking in a government military base. We're not there yet."

"So what you're saying," he leaned in, his breath once again on your ear and God, he needed to stop doing that or else you will kiss him again and will double his chances of falling ill, "We will get there?"

"You still need to learn how to park, Romeo," you paused, "speaking of which, you parked in the visitor lot, right?"

"No, that's too far away from your building. I just parked in front and hung up my work tag," Jake explained, as if that was the most sensible thing in the world.

"Jake….you can't….you have to park in the visitor's lot or else your car gets towed."

"V, they're not gonna tow someone who clearly works for the military."

"How much ya wanna bet?"

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

@abibliophobiaa @maxmayfield @rae-gar-targaryen @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @mygyn @sovereign-lights @cherrycola27 @k-k0129 @princessphilly @mxgyver @misshoneypaper @topgunruinedme @loveless-simp @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @readerthatreadsss @fandomxpreferences @teenwolf01 @toastedside @fictionwhores @awesomebooklover17 @helluvapimp @itllbefineeeeee @whatislovevavy @phantomxoxo @ouralcohol @untoldshortsofthefandoms @dreamsofouterspace @chavivaelisheva @the-untamed-soul @afuckingshituniverse @dogbarkbark4445 @krmy2386 @callsign-scully @avaleineandafryingpan @dissonannce @sometimesicryintheshower @potato-girl99981 @princessofglitterland @wildbornsiren @mrsjaderogers

[mothfables]

♡ Bunny Flops ♡ - Part Two

(Legend has like 0.5 seconds of angst cause ✨trauma✨, but then it’s just fluff <3)

The second time it happens, the Chain is taking a much-needed break at Lon Lon Ranch. Several weeks have gone by since the first Incident (as they’ve taken to calling it when Legend isn’t around to hear), and it’s mostly passed from everyone’s minds by now.

Legend refused to answer any of their questions, growing embarrassed and awkward any time someone brought it up. Eventually they gave up and let him be, to his relief. He doesn’t want any of them knowing it’s a holdover from his Dark World form - or that he suspects that isn’t the only reason for his more...rabbit-like tendencies. Luckily (or, perhaps, unluckily in this case), those tendencies really only show themselves when he feels truly comfortable and safe, with a few exceptions.

(He doesn’t want to think about what it means that it’s happened around the other heroes. Thinking about it means acknowledging it, and acknowledging it means he has to face the fact that he’s let himself get close. Close to people who will just get taken away go away again.)

(He can’t go through that again. He can’t.)

As it is, Legend is curled up on the rug in front of the fire in the main house, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug and a fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Quiet chatter mixed with soft music flows around him. Chores are done for the day, none of his weapons are in need of maintenance, his belly is full, and he’s warm and cozy in a house that makes him feel as safe as he’s ever been.

Legend feels himself start to drift, his mind growing hazy and soft. Each blink is longer than the last, and he fumbles to keep from spilling his drink as he begins to drift off. Someone takes it from him, their hands gently easing it from his own, before patting him on the head. Half-asleep, he barely registers giving a soft chirring purr in response to the affection, hearing the other chuckle warmly as they continue petting his hair.

Sky smiles down at him as the younger hero begins to doze. He pauses for a moment to twist around, searching for the coffee table so he can put down the mug he’d taken from sleepy hands. Once that’s done, he turns back around to continue his ministrations, only to blink as he realizes the other boy is not where he’d left him.

He glances around, confused, before looking down and seeing Legend curled up on his side before the fire, blanket clutched in his thin hands and violet eyes blinking sleepily into the flames. Giving a relieved sigh, Sky shuffles closer and lays a hand on soft pink locks. Legend starts purring again as Sky gently pets his hair.

He only half-listens to the sounds of the other heroes in the room with him, most of his attention on the cozy bundle before him that is the young hero. As he weaves his hand through his hair, marveling at the softness of it, he senses more than sees someone moving to sit next to him.

“He’s doing it again, huh?” Warriors’ voice, hushed in the quiet peace that’s settled over them all, comes from his left. He joins Sky in reaching out and laying a gentle hand on Legend’s arm. The Vet sniffles once before sighing. Wars runs his hand along his arm in a soothing motion, and his eyes slip shut as he finally nods off.

“So, it’s not anything to worry about then, do you think?” Sky asks, keeping his voice low. “Since he’s just sleeping when he does this?” ‘This’ being tipping over and falling asleep with ease as compared to the restless, guarded nights they’re all used to.

Wars shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. This is-” he stops, looking for the right words. Sky nods; he understands what his brother means.

This is an incredible show of trust. For the Veteran, prickly and snappish and guarded to his core, this may very well be the equivalent of lowering every wall he has and opening the door straight to his heart. Sky’s own heart warms at the realization. He lets himself trust that they will not hurt him, and in turn allows them to protect and care for him at his most vulnerable.

The Chosen Hero turns his head to meet the Captain’s eyes. They both nod, coming to an unspoken agreement that they will do everything they can to keep this trust. Their brother deserves to be able to let his guard down, to be able to open himself up, to know he has people he can depend on, and that none of it will be taken from him.

With a content sigh, Sky lets himself lean into Warriors, resting his head on his shoulder. They each keep a hand on their sleeping brother, protective and soothing both. The two of them will keep watch over their brother tonight, here in this house of safety and warmth and love, to make the most of every ounce of trust they’ve been given.

<< First : Last >>

[scoutswritingcorner]

Bite

Rosie x GN!Reader

TW: TALKS ABOUT CANNIBALISM AND BODILY HARM. THIS IS A DARK FIC AND HAS DISTURBING THEMES. NSFW DO NOT READ IF THESE TRIGGER YOU OR YOU SIMPLY DO NOT LIKE DARK FICS. READER AKA YOU DIE AGAIN IN THIS FIC.

Don’t you know not to tempt a cannibal? Even if she is your wife.

It was a simple question that had piqued your mind a million times over and over again. What did you taste like and would your wife eat you if she had the chance? Is your flesh really that good to eat or was it just like any other meat? You stared off into space as you watched some of the citizens of cannibal town pass by outside the window, you didn’t want to try to eat your own flesh but if Angel flesh is such a delicacy to cannibals were you just the equivalent to chicken? 

Blinking you turned to your wife who was happily sipping on her tea as she hummed an old song that was playing on the gramophone. “Rosie?” you softly called out watching as her smile widened and looked over at her, “Yes, Love?” You sat silent for a few seconds trying to form the words in your head as you tapped the table. “..what does flesh taste like? Is it like pork or chicken?” You asked nervously fiddling with your wedding ring as the question seemingly caught her off guard. “Does everybody have a distinct taste?” She slowly put her cup down, her smile softening, she hummed and watched as your gaze moved back towards the window. “Now where did this line of questioning come from?” She giggled, reaching over to gently squeeze your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers with hers. You shrugged and casted your eyes downward, “I just thought of how so many cannibals are eager to eat Angels and figured if Angel’s are such a delicacy wouldn’t that make regular demons the equivalent of pork or chicken?”

You gently squeezed her hand back before looking over at her, “Would you eat me?” Now this question caught her off guard. You did always allow your thoughts to run off and she adored hearing your silly little questions. “Would you want me to eat you?” She asked gently rubbing your knuckles with her thumb, it was a question she forced out of her head so long ago and yet the simple question brought back that hunger like the plague. Her last few exes deserved to be eaten and killed mercilessly but you, you were little Dove, the light of her afterlife. She wouldn’t even dream about eating you but now? Now the question wrapped around her mind as she watched your eyes drift from her face and back to the window, what would you taste like?

~~~

Days have passed since the question you asked your lovely wife. The question swam around your mind as you stared at your hand, you didn’t essentially need your pinky finger. It was just there. You glanced up at your wife who was busy talking with Alastor before glancing back down, flexing your hand as your mind raced. No no, you can’t be thinking about that right now. But the thoughts ran through your head nonstop as you continued your day with Rosie and Alastor. You didn’t need to ruin such a fun day for them both. Especially when Alastor didn’t really like you that much, you didn’t blame the man. You were quiet and unlike her last few husbands, you were a total shot in the dark. He couldn’t decipher you. It pissed him off.

The day ended quicker than you realized as you walked arm in arm back to your shared home with your wife. “You okay, Dear? You’ve been silent all day.” Her hand squeezed your arm as you smiled up at her, she could tell a lot was on your mind. “Would you like to eat my pinky?” You asked, catching her off guard once more, it was common for cannibals to feast on the flesh of those who strayed too far into the town but being offered such a delicacy with no qualms about it was the most uncommon thing for her to hear. You were offering yourself to her, “Please..I want to know how easy it is for you to break bones.” You held your hand up to her as if you were giving an offering to a god, she’s bitten you before and tasted your blood as you were allowing her to ravage you in bed. But this felt different, it felt sacred.

But yet, she couldn’t deny your request no matter how disturbing it could be to anyone who was mildly sane down here. She carefully grabbed your wrist, her sharp nails scraped at your flesh but she had made sure not to cut you. She placed a kiss on your palm before kissing each and every finger before stopping at your pinky. She glanced at you once more, trying to see if you were regretting any of this yet your eyes stayed fixated on the rows of her sharp teeth. In a flash, her teeth pierced your skin and tore off your pinky from the knuckle as you swallowed out a sob, watching her easily eat your pinky like it was nothing, blood decorating her teeth and dripping down her chin, as her eyes focused on yours.

Were you afraid of your own wife? No, not one bit. You trust her but now something has replaced that gentle look in her eyes, something much more primal. Her lips wrapped around where the small digit was and easily licked at the blood flowing from your hand. You felt woozy from the lack of blood and her stare, how she had yet to break eye contact with you. It was only after you had slowly pulled your hand away, you glanced down at your hand. Blood ran down your hand to your forearm before you glanced back up at your darling wife. “Will you eat me?” 

Everything about her biting your finger off to seeing the blood run down your hand and her chin made you feel alive..it felt freeing just to let everything go.

~~~

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you were supposed to stay by her side for the rest of time. Not be dead by her own hands. She didn’t know what to do as when she snapped out of her own trance, you were too far gone. You looked like an animal that had been dissected and ripped open to show how your organs worked. She did what she thought best and called the only man who knew what to do better than her. 

When Alastor arrived, he was at a loss and tried his best to comfort Rosie! He truly tried! But when he had learned of her dove's fate he had to hold back a chuckle to make sure Rosie wasn’t upset at him. “Rosie, dearest. You’re telling me that they wanted you to eat them?” He guided her to sit down as his shadow started to make some tea for them both. Watching as she held close the bloodied and ripped shirt she had made just for you all those weeks ago, she nodded holding the garment close. “Yes! I should’ve been better at keeping myself back but then everything escalated so fast but they wanted me to do so!” She replied hand trembling, as he sat across from her. His grin only grew larger by the second but he was devastated himself. While he might’ve despised how quiet and closed off you were, he had given you approval to marry her. 

“Such a tragedy it is, my dear. But as they say, curiosity kills.” He hummed, reaching over to gently pat her hand, as his shadow appeared back to give them the tea and some extra tissues for Rosie. “Do not feel so down, if they were happy with you devouring them. They must’ve felt some way about it.” He hummed watching her slowly but surely calm down. 

Curiosity killed the cat surely, but the satisfaction you felt didn’t go unnoticed.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I am in a constant state of Sephiroth brainrot so I totally get you, he’s just so beautiful 😭

Anyways, could I request some cuddling headcanons with him please? More specifically Crisis Core/pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth because I think he’d be more willing to cuddle, lol

He’s so tall so I feel like cuddling with him would be super comforting!

This is probably ooc for him but we’ll live with it for the headcannon. Also idk if this is what was expected but here, have it. I tried.

Sephiroth, at first, would be likely unaware of the concept of cuddling until you brought it up to him one day. He wouldn’t be the type to reframe himself from indulging himself in something you considered a comfort…unless it’s within the timeframe of his missions then no, he wouldn’t be able to indulge you during those times. He’s a hero after all so his duty as one is top priority.

Other then that he’ll happily oblige to your whims -within reason of course- but other then that Sephiroth happily lets himself become your personal body pillow and heater with how warm he was which was one of the main reasons why you loved to cuddle yourself into his side; More specifically on those rainy days where he would be aloud some time off and catch up on some light reading with a blanket draped over your laps.

The first time you cuddled, Sephiroth was stiff as a floorboard. So much so you were scared that he was going to strain a muscle of his if he wasn’t careful. You lifted your head from his chest to stare worriedly into his cat like eyes. ��Sephiroth, relax.’ You told him as you placed your hand against his cheek, your thumb caressing the skin stretched across his cheek bones as he hummed in content, almost akin to a cat purring, as his eyes drifted to a close for a millisecond under your touch before opening again to look into your eyes

his features softened in tandem with his muscles as they obeyed your words almost immediately. You attempted to put your head on his chest once again and this time there was a more notable difference. He wasn’t tense but he still wasn’t fully relaxed almost as though there were parts of him that couldn’t fully relaxed under any circumstance no matter how hard you try to console them. They were just. There.

However you couldn’t complain as you found your hand slipping from his cheek onto his chest where his hand then came up to press against him tenderly as his warmth seeped into your palm and your cheek then throughout the rest of your body. ‘You’re warm’ you hummed in content as your eyes closed as sephiroth’s warmth lulled you into a state that tiptoes to and fro across continuous and unconscious.

His presence already brought you to relaxation but once he allowed his other arm to cage your against his chest as he moved over so that his back was facing the door to the room you shared, you immediate felt a wave of protection come over you. With his tally frame, it was like a wall had been put in front of you, a warm, comforting, protective but strong wall. Some of his silver locks would fall from his shoulder and cascaded over you like a waterfall or a curtain equivalent but it made your first cuddle session with Sephiroth all the more magical in your eyes as his hair forced your eyes to focus on him and only him. Which you weren’t complaining.

After that, cuddling became somewhat of a thing you both indulged in on a plethora of occasions. Each time it was always with Sephiroth setting himself into positions where he could quite easily protect you from all harm. When you asked him about why he preferred it that way, his only response was so that he could keep you safe but also because of how he came to like how you felt cuddled up against his frame that he almost felt possessive in certain instances. He felt like your guardian angel, your protector and he kept to it almost as seriously as he did his job.

Yet I’d like to think there are moments where you got to be the one with Sephiroth cuddled into your side, despite how humorous that may look to have SOLDIER’s number 1 war hero with his face pressed deep against your neck and or chest with his arms clutching your waist with an iron grip like you were his personal teddy bear he’d like to hold after a nightmare.

As much as Sephiroth enjoyed being a comfort to you, you enjoyed being a comfort for him during his worse days. You don’t tend to speak during those moments as you didn’t want to dig up whenever Sephiroth tried so hard to keep buried within. However you do communicate through your actions as once he walks through the door and you could see the fatigue within his eyes, you wordlessly stand up from the bed and open your arms towards him and watch as he picks you up in his arms and brings you back into bed.

Where Sephiroth would quickly cage you in his arms and bury his head into your neck as his hair slipped off his shoulder and pools itself onto you in a silky soft heap that held a bit of weight to it due to how much hair there was on the man. How he maintains it you’ll never know. But you also found out that if you were to run your fingers through those silky tresses of his, he’d sink further into your touch and might -might- even fall asleep against you if he were tired enough.

As I mentioned before, During rainy days where Sephiroth got some time off, he likes to catch up on some light reading. When he does, you made it apparent in keeping him company as you both sat yourselves down on the couch that was strategically angled so that the light from the windows as the rain splatters against them would give the room a bit of an ambiance. Talking wasn’t a necessity for the two of you whenever you cuddled, no matter where ever it maybe, for what could words express that your actions couldn’t?

So you would tuck yourself into his side, other times you’d be sitting on his lap, face buried a giant his chest or against his neck as his shoulder acted as a makeshift pillow for you but Sephiroth always insisted that you’d pick a position that wouldn’t give you a crocked neck later on. You most likely never head his advice and he could only sigh in bemusement at your predicament when you did eventually get a crooked neck from cuddling him at an odd position.

Either way, you’d have a blanket tossed over you both as you sink deeper in his warmth as he read passages of his book aloud with that voice of his that only ended up making you sleepier then usual. Sephiroth would soon join you, though after he moves you both to the bed for more comfort before bringing you back into his warmth where you subtly cling to him like a koala which never failed to humour him.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Don't knock it till you try it

Masterlist

Pairing: Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall (technically college AU. I needed to make the road trip scenario plausible.)

Summary: Your friends Walter and Sy have offered to drive you home for the summer, and you have decided to turn it into a nice relaxed camping trip on the way...

Word count: 9146 (yes, really...)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (vaginal, anal - f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex (vaginal, anal, DP - f receiving), masturbation (f), smug and dirty talking Sy, sex in a tent, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), silly bets, and an astonishingly solid bromance. I think that's all, but call me if I missed any.

A/N: I've finally really stopped hurting the boys and now we're just going for some nice relaxed sex in a goddamn tent, dammit! Also yeah I'm going to keep imagining the boys in college until the day I die, I don't know why (maybe because I'm young), but just... idk, read it as a memory or something? idk :')

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

You were not – by a long shot – the first girl to see the backseat of the beat-up chevy pickup you were sitting in. Fact. A fact so factual, in fact, that Sy hadn’t complained when you demanded he put a blanket down for you to sit on, which told you more than you really wanted to know.

Now, your eyes kept drifting shut to the sound of tires on asphalt and the bickering of soothing baritone voices in the front seat. The outside world consisted of mountain views and clear blue skies, and the fresh breeze of early summer that worked just hard enough to raise goosebumps on skin, but inside this rusty old vehicle the atmosphere was dominated by two pairs of broad shoulders, deep voices, and what you always mockingly referred to as ‘disgusting man sweat’ – always hoping neither of them would ever find out how often you dreamt of licking those salty droplets off their abs after a workout.

Both of them had shown up, first semester, in a class they didn’t have a prayer of passing, and you’d been teamed up with them because of what you then thought to be a hideous trick of fate. Somehow, you whipping them into shape for that tutorial hadn’t put them off you, and what started as whatever the educational equivalent of ‘frenemies’ is, turned into study buddies and eventually friends. The only downside to your friendship was that you chronically had to explain to your entire dorm that, no, you weren’t sleeping with either of them – let alone both of them.

As you still toed the line between asleep and awake, a heavy hand on your knee – belonging to Walter – made a decision for you in favor of consciousness.

“We’re hungry,” he said.

“You’re always hungry,” you grumbled as you reached for the bag of food and snacks on the other side of the backseat. It was a good thing they didn’t bother to deny it, because you would have strangled them both. God forbid you ever left a bag of Doritos out in your dorm. Seconds! Gone!

Sy had the stones to ask for a tuna sandwich. Absolutely the fuck not!

“I’m not opening that bag in this car, Sy.” It already smelled like stale beer and weed in there. Not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’re not allowed to smoke on campus, so this is our only option’ way. That said, adding tuna to the mix would be a complete disaster.

“Suit yourself,” he snapped. You rolled your eyes. For the love of God, it was all of ten minutes past feeding time! Walter snickered as he held out a hand. Turkey on wheat for Walter, BLT for Sy, mozzarella pesto for you. You’d splurged on groceries, because the boys had offered to take the lion’s share of the drive.

“We were thinkin’ of callin’ it a day soon, sugar.” They’d had morning classes, and you were falling asleep while on snack-duty… Plus, you’d agreed to just take it easy the whole drive. It was summer; there was no need to rush home.

Sy pulled off the highway, quickly ending the smooth, rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, until the asphalt finally made way for the crackling of gravel. Without Sy, you never would have found the campsite at which you pulled over. Camping ran through that guy’s veins, as you could tell from the impressive amount of camping gear in the bed of the pickup – all his.

Even though he helped you get out of the truck, you still lost your footing and stumbled into him, leaving Walter grinning to the side of the spectacle, commenting on your horrible clumsiness.

“Dunno,” Sy replied with a sly smile. “Guess she’s just fallin’ for me.” The cheesy joke made Walter stop dead in his tracks.

“I think that’s twenty-five,” he deadpanned, looking at you. In a less-than-sober state, somewhere in the past year, you had made a deal: if either of them managed to make that joke twenty-five times before the end of the year, you’d… Alright, let the records show that when you made that bet, you had been entirely convinced they’d never take you up on the offer to let them kiss you. But they had.

“You’re not gonna hold me to what I said back then, are you?” you asked in a small voice, your cheeks so hot you could probably fry an egg on them. The door of the truck slammed shut behind you, and Sy slowly stepped forward, forcing you to step back, until you were backed up against the truck, with him leaning over you – completely caged in between his solid body and the car.

“Deal’s a deal, sugar.” There was no trace of his usual grin, no hint of the mischievous glint in his eyes that normally told you he was kidding. He just came closer and closer as your eyes went wide – Walter did nothing. Jackass.

Not that kissing Sy was something you didn’t want. Oh no! In fact, it was something a fairly large part of you wanted so badly you thought you might burst. On some days, being close to either of them – let alone both – was torture, where your heart raced every time they came near you, and you unconsciously held your breath when they touched you… And while the guys just freely admitted to having sex dreams about you, you kept the little nugget of truth that you had similar dreams about them, tightly under wraps. Not because you thought they’d tease you about it, or anything, just… No, wait, actually that’s exactly why you didn’t tell them.

A few more seconds passed in which your heart tried its best to jump out of your chest.

“This isn’t funny, Sy,” you snapped on a sharp exhale when his mouth curled at the corners into that signature smirk you loved to hate. Finally able to gather your thoughts as well as your strength, you put your hands on his chest and pushed. It was a good thing he let you go, because if he had decided to stay put, you wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell.

“I want my kiss, sugar,” he called after you as you paced away to… alright, you didn’t actually know where you were going, but away, at least. “One way or another.”

As pissed – or confused – as you were, this was ‘the outdoors’ and therefore absolutely not the type of environment you were well equipped for in any kind of way, thus you decided it was best to stay close – within earshot, at least – to the boys. But they could take care of unpacking and pitching tents and whatever the fuck else needed doing.

“Hey.” Sy sat down next to you on the rock you had claimed, and put an arm around you. This was oddly comfortable, especially compared to the tense situation by the car, earlier. “I was messin’ with ya back there, you know that, right?” Whether it was to make a point, or simply because Walter wasn’t watching – or maybe because the threatening wall of man from before was now your familiar gentle giant again, you had no idea, but you impulsively reached for Sy and kissed him on the cheek. A low chuckle escaped him, and he pulled you closer.

“There’s a trail up to a waterfall we maybe wanted to check out, you in? Easy hike.” The good thing about hanging out with the guys was that they really considered your level of… adventurous ineptitude. If they suggested this hike, it meant they were at least medium convinced you could actually make it there and back in one piece – or that they could make it at least halfway with you on their backs.

The hike led up to a beautiful, clear river, and a spectacular waterfall. Between the smell of the woods, the sun comfortably warm on your skin, and the phenomenal view, this hike had been more than worth it – never mind that you were all sticky and sweaty from trying to keep up with the guys and their superhuman pace.

“On the way back, can we please remember that I have little legs?” you complained as you sank down onto the rock at the river bank the boys had selected to eat yet another sandwich on. Sy hummed, finally contently munching on the tuna sandwich you’d denied him in the car, and Walter laughed. You sat in silence while your friends ate their food, which meant the rock inevitably became too boring for your limited attention span.

What started off as a relatively sure-footed expedition over the rocks that stuck out of the water, inevitably ended with your very accurate portrayal of a soaking wet person regretting most – if not all – of their life choices. Sy sighed and rolled his eyes as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, taking his sweet time to get up and make his way over to you to fish you out of the water – which he then called ‘refreshing’ instead of ‘freezing fucking cold’. That didn’t improve your mood. Next, Walter had to dive for your phone – which, luckily, could swim, but was still going to be next to useless to you at the bottom of this far-deeper-than-anticipated vein of icy death.

Shivering, covered in goosebumps and with chattering teeth, you stood on the bank of the river.

“Take your shirt off,” Walter commanded, plucking his own off the dry rock.

“What?” you stammered, staring at him in disbelief. Now, that alone would have been just fine, if your eyes hadn’t dropped from his face to his chest. Small droplets of water dripped from his hair and beard onto his shoulders and chest and… somehow trickled down his body in slow motion. If they knew how much willpower it took to lift your eyes to his again, they would never let you live it down. Sy repeated his words from a distance – there went your excuse that Walter had just been talking too softly. Sy was still up to his knees in the river, unbothered by the cold, just hanging out there as if that water didn’t rival the fucking arctic ocean for temperature.

As you looked at him, he started to walk back to the riverside. The sun was starting to set, changing the light in a way that made it look like Sy, much like those fucking drops of water, was moving in slow motion, flecks of sunlight dancing over his skin… These guys were distracting enough when they were dry and dressed, but now that they were wet and half naked, with damp, coarse curls sticking to their chest and abs, catching the water that dripped down from their heads… These boys were fucking with your head. Big time.

“Sugar, take off your shirt, please,” Sy repeated when he stood next to you. “You’re freezin’, let’s get you a dry t-shirt, at least.” Oh. So, they weren’t putting the moves on you. Good to know. Hopefully, your exasperated sigh didn’t give away any of the disappointment you felt. With a little help from Walter, you lifted your soaking top over your head, not caring that they saw you in your bra until it was already too late. Sy used his t-shirt to dry you off a bit, before handing you Walter’s to put on. The whole time, they kept their eyes in decent places, and their hands didn’t wander anywhere they shouldn’t. Now, why did that make you feel sad?

“We should head back,” Walter said – mostly to Sy. The sun disappeared rather quickly, and without the heat from it, that dry t-shirt – save for the two tit-shaped wet spots where your soaked bra touched it – didn’t do much to keep you warm.

By the time you made it back to the campsite, you were shivering again. The walk had done next to nothing to warm you, and your still wet jean shorts chafed painfully against your thighs. Not to mention your thighs were starting to chafe painfully against your thighs. So, the first thing you did was disappear into the tiny single tent that was meant for you – as you had made it abundantly clear that sharing a tent with the boys was out of the question – and change into something dry, warm, and comfortable. The guys did the same, although – as it turns out – their version of ‘warm’ included no shirts. Did they ever get cold?

It was tough enough to keep your eyes off Sy in cargo shorts – although Walter in jeans was just as much of a sight for sore eyes – but now that it was getting dark, the sweats came out to play. You silently thanked Walter for his choice of black sweatpants, because keeping your thoughts out of the gutter was hard enough already. Sy was shamelessly sporting a pair of grey sweats, filling them out just about as nicely as humanly possible as he sat there, getting a fire started. The sly glances and that godforsaken smirk he flung your way from time to time told you that he was more than aware that you were checking him out.

The heat from the fire alone wasn’t enough to warm you up. Sy’s solution was tequila – which helped, but not quite enough, so Walter wrapped you in a blanket, pulling you close to his side as he ran his hands over your arms in an attempt to stop your shivering. At the same time, Sy inched closer, and before you knew it, four arms were wrapped around you.

Apart from being hot, proverbially, these guys were hot in the literal sense, too, warming you up slightly more effectively than the blanket around your shoulders and moderate amount of alcohol in your system. Still, the icy temperatures from the ground you were sitting on seeped into you without mercy. Of course, the boys took notice, both getting the same idea, and each grabbing one of your legs to try and pull you into their respective laps. Needless to say; it didn’t work, and you just ended up with spread legs, sitting between them on the floor. Sy had that twinkle in his eye, that smirk on his face that was dripping with confidence and indecency… You had to get out of there before he could speak!

As you scrambled to your feet, mumbling something about getting another blanket for yourself to sit on, you tripped and fell into Walter’s lap. Of course! You had been keeping score on that bet as well, and you knew you had come here – fucking camping – with both of the guys stuck on twenty-four counts of the same lame fucking joke… This was your fault, really.

To your surprise, however, Walter said nothing – instead, he smiled politely, pulling you into a more comfortable position in his lap.

“You’ve earned it,” you whispered, although you had absolutely no idea why. Maybe because it was the truth, maybe because you just wanted this bet to be over. Either way, it hurt you that he didn’t make the dumb joke, and asked to collect his reward the way Sy had. Hoping to get up before Walter looked into your eyes – where your thoughts were no doubt displayed for everyone to see – you made a move that was entirely too advanced for your mediocre balance and agility, and you crashed down again, this time falling harder than before. As Walter grunted, panic shot through you…

“Darling, I’d ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven, but so far the only person who got hurt in that process, is me,” he blurted out in a strangled voice, while Sy was losing it next to you, howling from laughter.

Was it the booze? The fire? The tension from this afternoon? The fact that you were sitting in his lap, with his hands maybe a tad too low on your hips, but high enough to not rouse suspicion? Or maybe just your complete lack of self-control? Whatever it was, it caused you to move to straddle his thighs, and without thinking about it for so much as a second, you kissed him. If you’d had a sliver of hope before that Walter would break the kiss after an at least semi-decent amount of time, it was gone now, because the hand on your hip pulled you tighter against him, and his other hand tangled in your hair.

Walter kissed you. It took far more effort than you had ever expected to really let that sink in, but at the same time there was no way around it. He was kissing you, and it was eager, and rough, accompanied by ragged breaths and the occasional moan. It managed to make you forget everything around you. Everything except for Sy – mainly because he let out a pained grunt just as you were about to stick your tongue down Walter’s throat.

“I got a kiss on the cheek, man,” he groaned as he leaned in slightly on one elbow.

Now, if you had been thinking clearly, you would have laughed it off, gotten up and gone to bed. Safe to say, you were not thinking clearly.

Sy’s mouth felt just as good on yours as Walter’s had, with similarly soft lips, a similarly coarse beard scraping your skin, and a similar roughness to him that only wound you tighter. You moaned, your hips unconsciously grinding into Walter’s, his growing hard-on providing extra friction to soothe the ache between your legs. When you briefly opened your eyes to see if Sy was as involved in this as you were, you saw him palm his own erection through his sweats – casually adjusting its position before focusing on you again. In that moment – timed perfectly with a moan from Walter – something inside of you snapped.

“I’m going to bed,” you stuttered as you broke the kiss with Sy, at the same time scrambling to get to your feet – this time succeeding without falling into anyone, and making it to your own tent without a hitch. ‘

Now, if it had been a sober conversation, and it hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere without a sound to be heard for miles other than crickets, the occasional owl, and the crackling of the fire, at least half of it would have been inaudible from where you had pitched your tents. But the boys were too drunk, and their voices too deep and dark – the sound just traveled too far. You could have ignored them. You could have turned around, pulled your sleeping bag over your ears, and pretended to be asleep until it became the truth. Instead, you listened, sometimes straining to understand what they were saying.

“So, who do we say got her first?”

“I’m asking for a do-over.”

“Because it was me?”

“We could just… Y’know…”

“Think she’d go for it?”

“What, both of us? My ex did…”

“But she was nuts.”

“Hey! Okay, fair enough.”

Both of them? Both of them? As in… Separately? Or… Oh, what the fuck did it matter! The answer was yes.

What surprised you most about your thoughts was how completely unsurprised you were by them. Somehow, the idea of sleeping with both Sy and Walter felt as natural as could be, and left you not only stumped, but with another problem that needed tending to…

Without thinking, you slid your hand down your body, and into your sweatpants. Kissing the boys had definitely had its effect on you, you had known that as soon as it had happened, but the extent of the mess between your thighs was still quite surprising. Somehow, tasting both of them, followed by your eavesdropping, had made you dripping wet and craving something more than just your fingers. Unfortunately, they’d have to do.

You thought of that first kiss with Walter, then the one with Sy, then wondered what it would feel like to have those beards scratch the skin of your neck, slowly making their way down to your chest. Would they lick? Bite? Moan? You pictured Sy, eagerly making his way further down, while Walter kept his attention on your chest. Would he be as quiet as he always was? Was Sy as loud as you imagined him to be?

There were so many things to wonder about, besides the obvious size question, that the thoughts consumed you completely as you worked yourself up to your peak. So completely, in fact, that you didn’t hear the guys return to the tents – just as you squealed from pleasure while you came. Hard.

“Fuck, sugar,” Sy said from outside. Walter warned him to stop talking, but he didn’t listen. “Tell me if you want any help.”

It was tempting to say ‘yes’. It was tempting to crawl into that tent and tell them you had heard everything they said by the fire. It was tempting to offer yourself up on a silver platter, hoping they’d make good on their promises from before by fucking the life out of you. But things that are tempting can also still be difficult, so you did nothing. Well, nothing… If ‘dying of embarrassment’ counts as ‘something’, you were definitely not doing nothing.

The sound of your own teeth chattering prevented you from falling asleep, even though you could hardly keep your eyes open. And who knew goosebumps could hurt like this? The boys had warned you beforehand that it would get cold at night, and you’d even told Sy what you had planned on wearing as pajamas, and he’d said you’d be good. Well, you weren’t good. You were covered from head to toe, and you were not – by any definition of the word – ‘good’.

As hard and painful as it was to just lay there and freeze, it was harder to get up, worm your double-socked feet into your sneakers and get out of your tent. Outside, it was pitch black, and the dim light of your phone was barely enough to prevent you from falling flat on your face. You had to credit the boys with their incredible foresight to keep the path from your tent to theirs free of tripping hazards – something you were so delighted in at that moment that you forgot to question whether or not there was some sort of ploy, or whatever in place. Lewd scheme or not, you were glad to make it without a hitch.

“Eh, guys?” you whispered after zipping open the tent and poking your head in.

“Hm? What?” It was Walter – and from Sy’s continued snoring, you deduced that you shouldn’t wait for him to answer; he wasn’t waking up.

“I’m really fucking cold,” you admitted reluctantly. That seemed to wake Walter up a little more…

“Cold? You could go on an expedition to the north pole dressed the way you are!” The sleep-drunk slur of his voice was… adorable, in a way. To his left – no, his right… To his left from where you were standing? The left side of the air-mattress they were on when you looked at it, standing at the foot of the bed, the right side if you were actually lying in… oh for fuck’s sake! Next to him, Sy groaned and turned – although you couldn’t see any of that, because it was very dark.

“The fuck is going on?” he grunted, his voice gravelly and dark – which did a good job of making your knees weak.

“She’s cold,” Walter replied dryly.

“There’s no way,” Sy said in disbelief, “she’s dressed for winter in Alaska.”

“If you two are done mocking me, I’m actually freezing my ass off out here. Do you have an extra blanket or something?” you snapped.

“Sugar, we’re not even wearin’ shirts,” Sy said, his voice steadier now that he was waking up.

“Great, so you put on a shirt, and I’ll take your sleeping bag.” It was a shame they couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but the snippy tone would surely get your point across.

“Or you could just come here, love,” Walter said all of a sudden. There was rustling in the tent and then a dim red light over your heads turned on.

“Interesting choice…” you started, but Walter and Sy chuckled.

“It’s easier on your eyes, sugar.” Shit, Sy was easy on your eyes, god damn. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the way he casually lounged on that fucking mattress right now, with that arm behind his head, eyes half shut…

Walter was sitting up, holding a hand out to you, waiting patiently until you had zipped open the door further – which took so long that he ended up helping you with it. As you got in, he got out, and for a moment you were scared he would offer to leave you with Sy while he took your tent, but after a while he returned holding your backpack and sleeping bag.

The bed was a bit small for the three of you, especially since the guys were so bulky, but you managed to make it work. The only thing was… shivering in between them was hardly more comfortable than shivering by yourself, and now there wasn’t enough space to curl up into a ball and hope for the best.

“Sugar, stop squirmin’, c’mere.” Sy’s strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, when up until now you’d been trying desperately not to touch either of them. “Alright, I take it back, she is freezin’.” A gesture to Walter you could feel but not see, made him scooch over, too, until his body was flush against yours.

Your heart raced in your throat when warm hands slipped underneath your hoodie, stroking your side and – eventually – your stomach. Somewhere down the line, you forgot how to breathe properly, taking in shallow breaths, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice. Of course, they did, because they were inches away from you.

“You should take this off, sugar,” Sy mumbled into your ear. Every muscle in your body tensed up at the suggestion, and it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“C-can’t,” you stammered, “I’m not… eh… I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Fairly sure we’ve seen a pair of tits before, love,” Walter replied, right at the time Sy muttered ‘neither are we’, making you laugh. Somehow, all of this seemed innocent – or rather; you were convincing yourself it felt innocent, and any subtext and undertones were a figment of your imagination, instead, when in fact, it was far more likely that it was exactly the other way around…

“Not mine,” you protested, biting your lip as a third hand, belonging to Walter, began to roam your back.

“We’re aware of that,” Sy said, his voice dangerously close to your ear. His breath was hot against your cold skin – a sensation that made you shiver.

“In fact, we try not to think about it. It makes us sad,” Walter said, leaning his forehead against yours, sliding his hand down your back and then up your side until his thumb was less than an inch away from the underside of your boobs.

For a moment, the thought that this was just a tactic to actually warm you up flashed through your head, because – in all fairness – it was working. Every part of you was suddenly glowing, breath quick and ragged in anticipation of whatever it was that would come next. What surprised you, though, was how calm they both seemed. Then again, they had already – unknowingly – admitted to having done this before. If that was where this was headed, which you still didn’t quite know for sure… It was as if the guys were both waiting for something. Waiting for… you.

Your lips trembled as you tilted your head up, Walter taking your hint and pressing his lips to yours. Sy pushed your hair out of the way and latched on to your neck. Neither of them went straight to groping you – not more than they had been up until now – but it was only a matter of time before you felt Walter’s hand creep up to your chest. He broke your kiss, his eyes silently asking for permission, which you gave him with the flash of a smile and a slight nod, gasping when his fingers brushed past your nipple. Despite the rising temperatures in the tent – even though most of that was likely just your imagination – the difference between your skin and Walter’s was striking, and you moaned when his warm hand cupped your breast.

Sy was less subtle by about a million degrees, boldly grabbing as much of your other boob as humanly possible – and he had big hands, so you quickly ran out of tit for him to dig his fingers into.

“Can you take it easy,” you blurted out as you laughed in surprise at his – as far as you were concerned – unwarranted enthusiasm.

“Darlin’, I’ve been dreamin’ of these tits for weeks, throw a man a bone.” He groaned when you backed a hip into him the same way you would have if he had been standing next to you.

“Looks like you’re the one throwing me a bone, Syverson,” you teased when you felt his cock push against your ass. It was a horrible joke; Walter laughed, Sy did not – possibly because he was the one on the receiving end of your mockery. Instead, you heard a low, arrogant chuckle in your ear, that told you exactly how he wasn’t going to give you the upper hand.

“I ain’t throwin’ you nothin’, sugar,” he growled, putting a hand on your hip, gripping you tight. “I’m gonna make you fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Promises, promises.” Teasing the boys was fun when you were studying, because you very clearly had a head start in that department, and they would get frustrated, and it was very cute. But now, sandwiched between their bodies, gone was your head start. Any advantage you had over them, in any other way, was useless here. The worst part? They fucking knew it. It was as if they grew bigger and you got smaller, and you were loving every second of it.

Suddenly, the hands underneath your sweater grew impatient, tugging the fabric up until there was no point in keeping it on. Rough hands turned you on your back, which left you staring up at both guys while they raked their eyes over your naked upper body. The knowledge that they were far from unaffected by you graced you with a sense of pride that helped keep doubts and shyness away as you reveled in their attention and the appreciative grunts and moans they let out as they looked at you.

“Fuck,” Walter muttered, licking his lips, completely focused on your bare skin. He scooched closer to you, grinding his hips into your side as he did, and turned your face to his to kiss you.

It was as eager as before, this time with Sy descending, pressing his lips to your neck, exceeding every expectation you had created in your fantasy from before; their lips were softer, their tongues wetter, and the way the coarse hair felt on your skin better than anything you could ever imagine. You whined and squirmed as their hands glided over your body, paying plenty of attention to your boobs, their fingers treating the soft flesh in remarkably similar ways. After a while, they switched places; Sy kissed you, Walter explored your body, making you gasp into Sy’s mouth as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently on the hardened little bud while his fingers worked the other.

Eventually, he came back up to kiss you, a situation Sy took advantage of by diving straight back between your boobs, this time sliding his hand down your stomach and into your sweatpants – which is when you grabbed his wrist.

“Stop.” Stern and very effective – not that you were about to give the boys any credit for not assaulting you; that sounded like common fucking decency to you, actually. “Before this goes any further; did either of you, with your infinite wisdom and incredible foresight, pack condoms? Because if not…” Before you finished that sentence, both of them sat up and reached for their bag, leaving you there, taken aback by… You didn’t actually know what had you so shocked about this.

Sy made it back to your side first, tucking a handful of condoms beneath his pillow before laying down again. “Oral?” he asked. It was only half the question, but you understood perfectly. You quickly established that everyone was clean, making the short answer to his half-question ‘without’. Sy responded to that agreement by promptly sliding his hand into your pants, not wasting any more time. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he let out a low chuckle.

“For a moment I was worried you didn’t want this as much as we do,” he growled in your ear. “Guess I was wrong.” One quick, skilled swirl of his finger around your swollen clit made you whine – a sound he clearly found very motivational, because his fingers picked up a steady rhythm. You tried to hide your face in Walter’s neck to cover up the sound of your moans, but he caught you and kissed you instead.

Sy somehow found the time to kiss your neck, your jaw, your ear – sinking his teeth into you ever so slightly, stopping just before he hurt you – while he continued what he was doing. His fingers were absolute magic, making you swear under your breath as he effortlessly slipped two of them inside you. Next, he kissed his way down again, not stopping at your breasts, but continuing over your abs, until he reached your sweatpants, pulling them down eagerly without waiting for your permission. Of course, he had it – and you’d had plenty of time to stop him while he was headed there. It’s just that… That was about the very last thing you wanted.

Next to you, Walter kept busy pressing lazy kisses to your neck and jaw, occasionally pulling away to look at you, while he held you and played with your boobs. A few times you tried to move your hand to the bulge in his sweatpants, but he stopped you every time.

“Would you just...”

“Darling, been there, done that. You’ll be useless to me within seconds.” He nodded towards Sy, who was taking a moment to find a decent position between your legs. You raised your eyebrow at Walter, questioning his words, but he didn’t budge. “I’m gonna wait my turn, love.”

“I know this one,” Sy said, running his fingers over the fabric of your thong. You chuckled – he was right; he’d barged into your room one night while you were changing into whatever you were going to wear out to the club, and he’d seen you in your underwear. This underwear. He took his sweet time taking it off, teasing you with kisses on the inside of your thighs, his beard rough against your sensitive skin, until you were almost begging him to keep going. Finally, he pulled your panties down.

“You were right,” he said to Walter, leaving you to wonder what the fuck… “It is her natural hair color.” Oh. You fought the urge to kick Sy – instead, you lightly squeezed your thighs shut around his head. It didn’t seem to bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact.  

The urge disappeared altogether when you – finally – felt his tongue on your pussy. He wasn’t subtle, but damn, he was good. Walter had absolutely had a point; barely ten seconds in and you couldn’t keep your eyes open, let alone focus on anything other than the feeling of Sy’s tongue on your clit. He impatiently spread your legs further while mumbling some very dirty things about how much he wanted to taste you. Involuntarily, you chuckled – causing both guys to stop what they were doing and looking at you in suspicion. Lying was pointless; they knew you well enough by now to effortlessly see through that, and you sighed.

“I… eh…” you stammered, unable to find the words.

“Come on,” Walter said, “if you’ve still got things to hide from us now…” He was right, of course, this wasn’t a position you’d have found yourself in at all if you hadn’t been so comfortable with – and hot for – these guys. Then again, you were already exposed and vulnerable… Why make that worse?

You hid your face in Walter’s neck as you just said what was on your mind without thinking about it: “I always imagined you to be the quiet one and Sy the loud one.”

“Always?” Sy teased you. His usual cocky attitude transferred seemly to the bedroom – or… tent – as it would seem. Except now, for once, you had a decent shot at shutting him the fuck up – although you did have a feeling you were going to like his smug confidence for a change. Sy had been growing out his buzzcut for a few weeks now, which made his hair just about long enough to grab – a fact you used to your advantage when you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his face back to where you wanted it.

“That’s just going to make it harder to answer the question, darling,” Walter muttered next to you while drawing circles around your nipples with impatient fingers.

“Fuck!” you shrieked as Sy’s tongue hit your clit just right – a note he took to heart, because he didn’t leave that spot again, leaving you wishing that all men were that smart. Because why – for the love of God – did they always change their approach as soon as they found a spot you let them know you really liked? Right… The question at hand… “You really thought it was just the two of you dreaming about me?” They had to be smart enough to figure out what you meant on their own, right? The flustered look on Walter’s face told you enough, as did the deep chuckle and gentle bite on the inside of your thigh.

Apparently fed up with your conversation, Sy doubled down on his efforts, eating you out like a man starved, more chuckles escaping him as he watched you pull his pillow over your face in an attempt to keep quiet. ‘Attempt’ because you still failed quite horribly when he pushed two fingers into your pussy and curled them, finding your g-spot without any effort. The orgasm that followed was the kind of toe-curling, earth-shattering, life-changing thing that made you really mad at yourself for one particular reason…

“Jesus fucking Christ, I should have taken you up on your offer when my useless ex broke up with me,” you moaned as Sy made his way up again, pulling in the pillow that you had haphazardly thrown aside – after you were done screaming­, that is – so you could catch your breath. Sy immediately pulled you on top of him, kissing you hard and deep, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was something that had always made you feel weird and – if you were being perfectly honest – mildly disgusted when it had been your ex doing it, but there was something about the way Sy had gone down on you, and the way he was kissing you now, something unapologetic, passionate, and enthusiastic, that made you want to kiss him.

In fact, you were just about to commit to the bit when someone – and that someone had to be Walter – grabbed you by your hips and dragged you back until you were on your knees. You tried to lie down again as you heard him rummage around, looking for something – the obvious, really. The smack on your ass made you shriek in surprise, only making you slightly worried that either sound would have been audible well outside the tent.

“Stay there,” Walter’s husky voice commanded. “My turn.” Maybe he was the quiet one, but when he did speak… Oh my! You didn’t dare to move a muscle, leaving you sitting there, exposed as you heard the pretty familiar crinkling of foil. Shortly after, you felt the tip of Walter’s cock glide along the length of your slit. He teased you for a moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing into you. Sy laughed as your eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, guiding it to the bulge in his pants. Jackass. As soon as you got a good sense of what he was equipped with, you squealed. Not with any particular emotion in mind, just… Right now, you didn’t know what to think. In fact, Walter was well on his way to at least semi-permanently turning the whole thinking-function of your brain off.

“You alright, love?” Walter asked as he slowly pushed further into you.

“So far so good,” you moaned, “but I hope you’re running out of dick, because I’m running out of places to put it.” Cue roaring laughter from both guys…

“If you ever wonder why we love you,” Sy said, his sentence interrupted by more laughter, “that, right there. That’s why.”

You wanted to respond to that, you really did, but Walter pulling out of you already left you breathless, meaning all you could do was gasp when he slammed back into you. You’d never pictured either of them to be gentle. Concerned for your comfort, sure, but not tender. You’d been right. Luckily, gentle lovemaking was very low on your list of priorities in this particular situation – or ever – which meant you reveled in the brutish attention you got and soon found yourself wanting to beg Walter to fuck you harder.

Sy, as vocal as he’d been before, turned out to also be a champion in impatiently nudging your hand, vaguely suggesting he wanted you to do something, and for a moment it felt like you were about to regain some control of the situation, but no… He was also not above manhandling you into a position where your face hovered over his crotch, and taking his dick out himself once he got really fed up with your stalling. With your eyes wide, you looked at him – something he enjoyed for a moment before tapping the tip of his cock to your lips.

“Don’t make me ask, Sugar,” he growled. As much as you wanted to protest and act out, with Walter fucking the attitude out of you, there was nothing you could do but open your mouth and carefully wrapping your lips around him. The chuckle you let out as Sy grunted appreciatively when you swirled your tongue around his cock was interrupted by your own moan when Walter did… whatever it was that he did to cause it.

Slowly but surely, you made your way further down Sy’s dick, until a particularly violent thrust from Walter threw you off, accidentally forcing Sy deeper than you could handle. Choking and sputtering, you moved away from Sy, only scared for a moment that he’d be disappointed, but he had a different reaction – similar to Walter’s: checking to see if you were okay. Again, you were not in the habit of handing out bonus points for normal behavior, but it was nice, regardless.

“I’m fine,” you said between ragged breaths. “Note to self: deepthroating while getting railed from behind; bad idea.” The guys laughed, and as soon as you’d caught your breath, you joined them.

“There’s one way we all get attention without any risk of choking,” Sy mentioned casually, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively. Yes, you knew what he meant instantly, but… both of them? At the same time? All it took to convince you to at least give it a try was Walter slipping out of you, leaving you empty and nowhere near sated. One of Sy’s sly glances was a question to Walter, who ‘hmmph’-ed. You didn’t like the sound of that, per se, and looked over your shoulder to see what he was on about.

“Definitely depends,” he said, taking your lack of an immediate ‘absolutely the fuck not’-reaction as a sign you were considering it. And he was correct in that interpretation of the situation. “There’s a time and place for first time anal, and this is not it.” That was a sentiment you could absolutely get behind. Luckily, it didn’t matter, because it was hardly applicable. You assured the guys you had plenty of experience in that area.

Another potential spanner in the works that Sy mentioned, was the lack of lube. Somehow, Walter surprised you by mentioning you should have some with you – you did, but how did he know that?

“You use it to keep your hair from going frizzy,” he deadpanned. You looked at him as if you’d seen a ghost, while Sy looked at you as if you’d gone completely nuts.

“What?” you said, turning to Sy again. “It works!” With one hand, you reached for the strap of your backpack, pulling it towards you so you could look for the bottle. It was just under half full, but that should be enough…

Walter wasn’t stingy with the stuff, which was a good thing. There were few things more annoying to you than continuously having to tell a guy to use more lube. One, then two, then three fingers disappeared into you without a hitch, and although the fourth was a nice reminder that you had to relax, that went over without too much trouble as well. Somehow, somewhere in your mind, the fact that Walter seemed to know exactly what he was doing irked you – it was completely hypocritical of you, for obvious reasons, but right now the thought of him with anyone else made you mad.

The boys laughed when you voiced the absurd thought, and Sy didn’t neglect to point out that they hadn’t been too happy about several of the ‘scum’ (yes, really) you’d gotten together with in the time they’d known you. It was a weird thing to be joking about with two of your closest friends while one of them had several fingers stuck up your ass, but at the same time it felt very natural and on-brand for your relationship with the guys.

You whined when Walter pulled his fingers out, making Sy chuckle in a way you didn’t like at all.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” he suggested with a smug grin on his face that only widened when you told him you were definitely not going to do that. “Why not, sugar?”

Fuck, he was making good on that promise from before. Now, of course, you could convince yourself that begging for cock was beneath you, and you weren’t going to do it, but that would leave you – relatively – unfucked, which was… not desirable, to say the least. Or you could admit to yourself and them how much you wanted both of them inside of you, and have a great time.

Somehow, the red light that no one had bothered to turn off – luckily, as everything you had been doing so far would have been more or less impossible in the dark – already made the tent feel like… a brothel, quite frankly, you put your doubts aside and looked at Sy.

“We’re not going to sleep, because you’re not done fucking me,” you said, giving him your best bedroom eyes. Sy seemed impressed at first, but his eyes flitted to Walter and…

A strong hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up until your back hit Walter’s chest. His arm reached around, grabbing you by your throat – lightly, almost as if to ask for permission, but demanding.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice dark and gravelly. Down on the air mattress, Sy smirked up at you, making it painfully obvious that you wouldn’t get out of this, no matter how hard you tried. You quickly scanned your brain for all your options, sadly coming up completely empty. No matter which way you sliced it, they were going to come out on top.

“I want you to fuck me,” you snapped, “both of you.” A sarcastic chuckle behind you and Sy shaking his head as he looked up at you told you that that wasn’t good enough. After a deep breath, your voice softened as you spoke again, finally saying the word they wanted to hear: “Please.”

For a long, dull moment all you really heard was the sound of two more condoms being unwrapped, and the top of the bottle of lube clicking. Then, Sy pulled you towards him. As soon as you felt his tip at your entrance, you sat down, fighting the urge to slap him when he threw a smirk and that godforsaken horrible wink your way. Under normal circumstances you considered yourself very well versed in resisting that desire, but today… He laughed when your palm landed lightly on his cheek and thrust up into you for good measure, making you squeal and fall over. Luckily, he caught you just in time.

Just as you wanted to sit up again, Walter put a hand on your back. Right. In that little moment of silliness, you’d almost forgotten what the endgame was, but now that you felt Walter’s cock pushing against your ass…

“Keep talking to us, okay?” Sy whispered softly as he saw your expression change. He cupped your cheek, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “Breathe.” You took his advice immediately – no doubt a nice change of pace for him, as he was used to your stubbornness at this point – taking a few deep breaths. It wasn’t until the third or fourth one that Walter moved, slowly pushing into you. Keeping your eyes open was absolutely impossible, the sensation of both of them filling you up at the same time too much to even really wrap your head around. “Sugar, you okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nodded, showcasing your current full extent of your ability to answer. When Walter moved, you swore under your breath – when they both moved you hid your face in Sy’s neck and let out a loud moan, followed by an out-of-breath ‘fuck yes’, and that was all the confirmation they needed.

They established a rhythm suspiciously quickly, pumping in and out of you in sync. Yeah. They’d definitely done this before. As you pushed the thought away and focused on the incredible sensations of their cocks moving inside of you, their eager – and mostly greedy – hands on your hips, shoulders, ass, thighs, and tits, you felt a familiar pressure inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you blurted out – and the boys seemed more than happy to oblige. With one little disclaimer…

“Make it quick, love… Not gonna last,” Walter grunted, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips. It hurt, causing you to swat at his hand, which made him relax his grip a bit. Judging from Sy’s rapid breaths and a concentrated look on his face that gave away just how much difficulty he was having with keeping his rhythm steady, he was getting pretty damn close, too. In fact, pretty much the second their thrusts dragged you over the edge, both of them grit their teeth and gave in to their own pleasure, growling profanities as they came.

The boys were nice enough to handle most of the cleanup for you – which was, given that you were camping, largely a matter of wet wipes, which was definitely not even close to the shower you would have loved to take right about now. And you couldn’t really appreciate Sy’s joke about a lovely, refreshing river near where you were, either.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you yawned, turning around in the middle of the bed, wrapping your sleeping bag tightly around your shoulders. It didn’t take the guys long to join you, and soon you were sandwiched between them again, strong arms wrapped around you – clearly not planning on letting go anytime soon.

Walter pressed his lips to your shoulder and let out a low chuckle. “Still cold, darling?”

The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed, in a tent that was already slightly warmer than comfortable, with just your sleeping bag on it. The guys had somehow already managed to worm theirs into the tiny little bags they came in, and all without waking you. Then again, it was safe to say that by now they’d proven themselves to be experts in the field of putting pretty big things in relatively tiny places…

For a moment, you wondered if you should feel weird about getting up and going outside, seeing the guys, but something about the whole thing felt so oddly natural that you didn’t give it a second thought.

“Mornin’, sugar,” Sy said as he held out some coffee to you when you joined him on the ground by the fire, where you’d spent the start of last night, as well. The two of you called Walter over, who was just about done putting your tent – the one that had been meant to be yours, anyway – away. He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck as if it weighed nothing – and maybe it indeed didn’t, you wouldn’t know, because you hadn’t touched the entire thing – and made his way over to you, gratefully taking the other cup of coffee Sy had poured.

You knew better than to try striking up a conversation with either of them before they’d finished their morning coffee – it was so bad that whenever you had classes together in the mornings, you showed up there with two double espressos for them and a latte for you, because if you didn’t do that, they’d just grouch and snap at you all the way through the first half of class.

It was all the more surprising, then, when Sy suddenly asked Walter a very unexpected question: “Have you ever kissed a dude?” The answer was no, he hadn’t - to which followed an even more surprising question: “Ever wanted to try it?”

The casual energy of the shrug with which Walter answered that question was absolutely unmatched by anything you had ever seen, and you stared at the guys, wide-eyed as they leaned in until their lips touched. It wasn’t just a quick peck, either! No, there was tongue involved in this… And by the end of it?

“Eh,” Walter said, “not for me.” Sy agreed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, completely taken aback by the unexpectedness of what had just happened. “What? You can’t just… Stick your tongue down your friend’s throat and then casually decide… What?”

“Hey,” Sy said, his tone still infuriatingly indifferent, “don’t knock it till you try it.”

[cyberrose2001]

Hi there! I found your blog not long ago and I wanted to say that I love your work! I saw your requests were open, so hopefully this is okay. (This is also my first request like this EVER, so I'm sorry if I'm super awkward or unclear lol;;;; )

TFP OP x human!fem!reader. The reader is shy but tries to help around the base, and make everyone smile. She develops feelings for Optimus and is interested in a relationship with him; but, due to said shyness and a fear of rejection, she keeps the feelings to herself and it's a huge pining situation. Maybe those feelings grow to wanting something more intimate over time.

I hope this makes sense! Thank you! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

Hi! I got your other ask as well and its all good! Thank you for requesting! I hope I've done your first request justice :)

Warnings: Suggestive (more towards the end, but mostly SFW)

Word count: 703

Since you've been taken in by the Autobots, you've made it your duty to repay their kindness in the upkeeping of their base. You're not the talkative type, often keeping to yourself and avoiding confrontation. And helping with maintenance allows you to avoid the others.

You would watch as the other humans would go on missions and help save the planet, but you were more than happy to stay behind to clean and organise equipment. Some would call you the human equivalent of Ratchet, except less grumpy and more reserved in nature. The cleaning gave you something to focus on, mainly when your thoughts drifted to a particular red and blue mech.

You couldn't help yourself. Optimuss's strong and bold personality resonates with everyone he meets. He displays it with such gentle kindness, and you fall for him. You're in love with him. You're so fucking in love with him that it hurts. It hurts because you know he could never love a human in the same regard you have for him. So, you transform that pain into something actually useful. Instead of daydreaming about him confessing to you, you grab a mop and a bucket of water and clean the base's dirty floor.

Dip. Squeeze out the water. Mop. Repeat.

Giving the concrete one last sweep, you stand back and admire your handy work. It took you nearly the whole afternoon, but the way the floor glistens and shines is worth it. Kneeling on the mint-condition floor, you run your hand across the smooth surface, gazing at your reflection. It is near damn perfect, almost as perfect as the sculpted face of Optimus staring back at you. You are about to run your hand across your star-crossed lover until your hand freezes. You're not hallucinating from the cleaning chemicals. That's his reflection.

You jump out of your skin and fall backwards. Your eyes shoot up to meet the glowing azure optics that belonged to Optimus Prime. He's crouched down over your comparatively petite frame, giving you a questionable look.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle you." Optimus lends you his servo. You're hesitant but accept the offer, and he quickly pulls you off the ground and onto your shaky legs. He notices and keeps a servo wrapped around your hand to keep you steady, "Are you alright?"

No, I'm holding your hand, you think to yourself.

"I'm fine, thank you." You feign a laugh as your face flushes. He is so close to you that you could genuinely touch his face for real if you wanted to. His grip on your hand is firm, and the size difference makes you swoon internally, "You gave me a fright, though."

"That was not my intention," He chuckles, and it's like music to your ears, "I could not help but admire your skills. This place has not been this pristine in years."

Don't freak out, but Optimus just gave you a compliment.

"Oh! Thank you." You say as you withdraw your hand, overcome with bashfulness. You swear you could see a glint of disappointment in his optics as you did so, "It's not much, honestly… I'm surprised you even noticed."

Optimus gives you a gentle smile and returns to his pedes, "It is difficult not to. You've done a fine job, Y/n."

He turns his back to you, and you can see the hesitance in his stance as he turns his helm to look over his shoulder at you.

"Perhaps you could… assist me in cleaning my quarters someday." He casually says as he saunters off to the base computer.

You're thankful that Optimus wasn't looking at you because the amount of blood rushing to your face, and surprisingly to another region of your body, is embarrassing. You were curious to know if he was flirting with you or if you took his words in a completely different context. Either way, you hastily pick up the bucket and mop and power walk to the nearest janitor's closet.

"Is she alright?" A curious Bulkhead asks as he witnesses the whole thing, "She looked kinda… red."

Optimus focuses on the screen before him, a slight smirk on his dermas, "I only startled her, I believe she will be ok."

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Held through the darkness - Hannibal x reader.

A/N: Hello!! its bee a while. truthfully, im not doing so hot at the moment and this was written basically as a form of therapy but hey i felt like sharing. Enjoy!!

Warnings: None

Word count: 1781

Masterlist

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

You sat and stared out at the empty world ahead of you. Well technically it wasn’t empty. It was bustling with life. You could see an endless row of headlights, streetlamps making the city below you glow. You thought about how there were thousands, if not more, people down there right now. Each with their own individual lives; with their own families, friends, lovers, exes. Each having their own background, a place they came from, a life they’ve lived. Every single person so full with complex emotions and thoughts from every walk of life. So why did you feel so alone? So utterly and painfully abandoned. Your chest felt hollow. There was a gaping whole where something once lived. It had been so long you couldn’t even recall what used to inhabit it. But whatever it was had been robbed from you, leaving you as an empty shell condemned to drift through life in search of a feeling you weren’t even sure existed anymore.

You didn’t feel sad. You didn’t feel anything. Just incomplete. Your mind raced with thoughts, scanning through your memories in search of something to fulfil you once more as you stared blankly ahead of you.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay here much longer” A voice came from behind you.

You swirled round, seeing the last person you expected to be in your home.

“Doctor Lecter? What are you doing here?” You queried as the man stood in the doorway that led from your balcony back into your apartment.

“I told you I would come to check on you. After that call we had, I didn’t trust that you were okay. Even if you tried to convince me you were” He stated, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he looked at you.

Your brow furrowed. You had called him? When? The last time you remember speaking to him was around 3 weeks ago where you decided to end your sessions with him. Not because you thought you were getting any better, quiet the opposite. But you just couldn’t bare to face him with it. Or anyone for that matter. You’d completely drawn away from the people in your life recently, not knowing how to function around them with such a weight on your soul.

“I called you earlier today, after Will said he saw you at the supermarket. He said you looked distressed, burn out.” He explained, sensing your confusion.

It came back to you as he spoke.

“Yes I remember, sorry. My head just feels a bit…foggy at the moment.” You replied, turning back to face the city in front of you.

The doctor took a few steps, coming to stand beside you.

“You are not okay y/n”

“I’m alive aren’t I?” You joked dryly.

“Being alive is not equivalent to living. You’re simply existing.” His words made your stomach drop, your throat feeling a little tighter than it was before.

“Tell me. What is on your mind?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t want to talk. You just wanted to rot away into nothing.

“I’m fine. Just tired. I’m sorry you drove all the way here for nothing.” The lack of energy behind your voice made it impossible to convince yourself, let alone convince him.

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell when you’re being honest and when you’re not.” His voice was stern, but with a layer of concern weaved in.

“Y/N”

He placed his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Your eyes dropped as to avoid his gaze. You’ d grown rather fond of Doctor Lecter in your time of being his patient. You found yourself craving his approval, craving his comfort and affection more than you probably should. The thought of him seeing you like this, seeing the lack of life left in you filled you with shame.

“Why did you even come here? I’m not your patient anymore” You muttered, his hand still gently resting on your shoulder.

“I care about you. Regardless of if you’re my patient or not, I want to make sure you are okay”

Your gaze finally met his, sincerity swimming in his eyes. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to accept his words and bare your soul to him. But you just couldn’t. There was a constant nagging in your head that he was only here because he felt he needed to be, out of professional curiosity. Nothing else.

“I am okay. Like I said, I’m just tired. I should probably go to sleep.” 

“y/n-“

“thank you for checking up on me Doctor Lecter. You can go now” You turned to walk away from him, heading back inside.

“No” He said firmly, causing you to stop in your tracks.

You turned once more to face him. “No?”

“No I am not going to leave.”

You were slightly taken aback by his words. “What? Look respectfully, this is my home. And I really just want to sleep so please can you just leave?”

“No.” He replied, taking a step towards you. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. It is more than evident you’re struggling, and I’m not going to let you drown in this.”

His words were too kind, too caring. It hit you in your chest, sinking down through your stomach. You couldn’t handle this. You need him to go.

“Just leave.” You mumbled, trying to keep your emotions down.

“Talk to me and I will.”

You could feel your anger rising. You weren’t angry at him; you were angry at the world.

“I don’t want you here” You snapped.

“I don’t care” He stepped closer to you once again.

“Get the fuck out of my house Hannibal”

“Tell me what’s wrong”

“EVERYTHING” You shouted, throwing your hands in the air. “Everything is fucking wrong. I am so sick of everything. Waking up every fucking day with this crushing desolate feeling that completely weighs me down. No matter what I do nothing fills it. And if I find something that numbs it for a while, its only every temporary. I am so fucking tired. I am broken and there is nothing I can do to fix it.”

Tears began to flow freely as you continued to rant, your hands threading through your hair.

“I feel like I am going insane every moment of the day. I am so relentlessly burnt out and yet I have no reason to be because  I don’t do anything. I can’t do anything. I just want it all to stop, I just-“

You were cut off as a sob escaped your throat. You fell to your knees, crying harder than you ever had before. Months of pent-up emotion, of fighting down every urge you had came bursting out of you. Your lungs were on fire and your head pounded but you just couldn’t stop. You hadn’t noticed Hannibal sitting next to you until you felt his arms wrap around you, pulling your body against his. Your head crashed into his chest, your hands clinging to his shirt as if it was the only thing keep you afloat. He held you tightly, his hand rubbing gentle patterns across your back as he spoke softly.

“You’re going to be okay. I’m here. Let it out”

You had no idea how long the two of you stayed like that, curled up on the floor of your balcony sobbing into him. You cried until there was nothing left, and your eyes were dry. When you eventually calmed down, Hannibal pulled away from you gently cupping your face to meet your eyes

“I want you to listen to me y/n. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded stiffly as you gazed at him.

“What you’re feeling is real. It is too much for one person to carry alone. I won’t lie to you and tell you there’s an easy quick fix, that will take time. But you need to allow yourself to seek help. You need to share this burden, to allow someone in to guide you through this. It is so easy to let yourself get wrapped up, until your blind to everything except the pain. But my darling, there is so much more. And if you let me, I will be by your side walking with you through it all. Until you see just how fulfilling you can make your life. You will never be alone in this, not as long as I’m around.” His thumb gently caressed your face, the other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

The earnest expression his face held, along with the genuine care laced into his tone was enough to make you want to cry all over again. No one had ever expressed such a care for you before. You never realised how much you needed it.

“Why do you care so much? I’m nothing but an ex-patient of yours” Your voice was quiet, if not hoarse from all the crying.

A small smile appeared on his face as his eyes scanned yours, as if he was trying to memorise every detail.

“You are so much more than that to me. Over the time I’ve gotten to know you, you have become a beacon in my life. You make me feel a way I have never felt before. I admire you more than you know. I care for you so deeply my darling. I won’t say its love, because truthfully this is all new to me, but it is most definitely close to it. All I know is that I want to be with you, I want to be the person you come to with everything – whether you’re happy, angry, or feeling the way you do now. I want to be the person you share yourself with. If you’ll allow it.”

Your heart swelled at his confession. For the first time in a while, you felt a genuine smile on your face.

“I don’t want anyone else Hannibal. Only you.” You leant forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him close to you.

His arms wrapped securely around your waist, one of his hands threading their way into your hair as he gently massaged your scalp. You melted into his touch, feeling relaxed for once.

“Aš niekada neleisiu tau jaustis vienišam, man brangioji.” He whispered against your hair.

You knew this wouldn’t be easy; even now with Hannibal by your side, this was going to be a hard journey to pull through. But for once, as you sat here cradled in him arms under the night sky, you felt a small glimmer of hope.

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

i hope you enjoyed, sorry for the depressing return to posting<3

[tossawary]

Posting about my reread like this in an attempt to help me remember some of these small details... I am quite bad at remembering things from the beginning of a book by the end of it, partially because small, easily overlooked details often become far more meaningful and therefore memorable on the reread.

Some quotes and thoughts on Binghe's birth + adoption, Tianlang-Jun, Su Xiyan, and the poor, unnamed washerwoman:

"Immediately after birth, Luo Binghe was abandoned by his parents, swaddled in white cloth, and put in a wooden basin that was lowered into the Luo River. This occurred on the coldest days of the year, and it was only thanks to fishermen pulling him out of the water that he didn't freeze to death as a baby. Because he'd been drifting along the Luo in the season when it was choked with thin ice, he was given the name Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe spent his early years wandering the streets, hungry and cold - a dreary childhood. A washerwoman who worked for a wealthy family took pity on him, and since he had no children of her own, she adopted and raised him as her own. Mother and son were poor, and they suffered much humiliation at the hands of their rich patrons." - Chapter 1, pages 9-10

"As it turned out, Luo Binghe had been born to the Demon Realm's Saintly Ruler and a woman of the Human Realm; within his veins flowed the blood of the ancient, heaven-fallen demons as well as that of the human race. His father, Tianlang-Jun, had been sealed beneath a great mountain, trapped for all eternity. His birth mother had been a disciple from a righteous cultivation sect, but shortly following Tianlang-Jun's dealing, she had been expelled on suspicion of having secret ties to demons. She had died from a postpartum hemorrhage after giving birth to Luo Binghe, but prior to her death, she had set her son adrift from the lonely ship she'd birthed him on. It was the only way she had been able to give Luo Binghe a chance to survive." - Chapter 1, page 11

I view a lot of these small details as somewhat flexible, with the different levels of unreliable narration going on. We are being told these things by Shen Yuan, who may be misremembering these details (as any reader, myself definitely included, does), and who read them as told by Airplane, who may have retconned prior details as he came up with new ideas, forgotten small details as he wrote millions of words, or was just lying in the narration for later reveals that never came to fruition. Shen Yuan may have also been reading dialogue between characters who also didn't know what they were talking about or were lying to each other.

So, I can do what I want with a lot of this, I feel! Shen Yuan doesn't necessarily know what he's talking about here. (More details will be revealed later on, I remember, and I will be looking out for them.)

Interesting things to remember here! Tianlang-Jun was apparently probably sealed during the winter, maybe late autumn at the earliest, which was probably unpleasant for snake demon Zhuzhi-Lang. I'm currently imagining Tianlang-Jun leaving his nephew to essentially hibernate somewhere to avoid the weather, promising to stay out of trouble (actually planning to meet up with Su Xiyan), and then just not coming back.

Su Xiyan apparently gave birth to Binghe on a ship! That's interesting. I had forgotten that detail if I ever took note of it.

I knew that the book implies here that Binghe was found by the washerwoman a little later into his childhood, but I'd forgotten the fishermen detail. I usually intentionally ignore this and just go with the washerwoman finding Binghe (which is what the animated show did, I think), because if Binghe was honestly "immediately" abandoned by Su Xiyan, then he would have been a newborn! Someone HAD to have been looking after him. This is one of my pet peeves in fiction: Binghe HAD to have been breastfed by someone OR this world must have an equivalent to baby formula for him to survive. (This is the main reason I conceptualized Luo Jiahui in PINTWILF as a young woman who had recently had a stillbirth, just so she could breastfeed this newborn baby.)

It's possible that Binghe had a series of caretakers who fell through before his adoption, leading to brief periods on the streets as a young child, and/or he did a lot of "wandering the streets" begging and scavenging AFTER his adoption by an extremely poor woman (and the sentences there are just a little out of order). Even if demon baby Binghe COULD survive on other food somehow, newborns can't... walk... or crawl... or lift their heads.

If I have to stick to what's written here as closely as possible, then I would go with the following interpretation: newborn Binghe being found by fishermen, who take him to town to see if anyone has lost or abandoned a child, or if anyone is willing to take one in. The only person to agree is this washerwoman. People in town possibly donate some means (baby formula equivalent, kinky plot device plant that kickstarts lactation) to feed this baby or cruelly tell the washerwoman the baby will die. Possibly, the washerwoman goes deeply into debt asking these rich patrons for the means to feed this baby. As Binghe grows up, he spends a lot of time on the streets, begging and scavenging to help his extremely poor adoptive mother. End mostly canonical interpretation.

If we wanted to get a little wild, we could also go with the interpretation that Shen Yuan is incorrect when he uses the word "immediately". Either he misinterpreted something Airplane wrote, or a character relayed information incorrectly in PIDW, or the SVSSS just formed differently to Shen Yuan's impression based on very vague information that Airplane may not have been keeping consistent.

Maybe Su Xiyan actually lived for several months on this ship after giving birth, creating the seals and somehow managing to feed her newborn child (the poison that killed her is a problem with breastfeeding here, but idk, maybe heavenly demon babies can drink blood for all we know, which is something Su Xiyan would know but the washerwoman would not), before setting Binghe adrift. Binghe would be too young to remember this time with his birth mother. I'll have to see what Wu Chen from Zhao Hua Temple says when I get to his explanation of what happened to Su Xiyan in the third book.

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 19!!!

Okay SO, that last poll was insane. Everytime I tried to break the tie by calling in a friend, you all tied it again! Even after the poll ended! You talented lot, you. In the end, the only way I could think to do it, was to split the difference. AND SO we get a half-and-half situation. Honestly, I legit love the way all of you keep me on my toes. It makes writing this so much fun.

Alrighty then. Let's do this.

Beginning || Previous || Next

***************************

The toilet seat art museum took more out of you than you thought. Anathema too, as it happens, because you find out very quickly that she snores. Not wanting to wake her up, you tuck your phone away so she can sleep in the quiet, and weirdly enough, her snoring becomes like white noise, and after a few minutes, you find yourself drifting off as well. It isn’t long before both humans are asleep, leaving the celestials to their own devices.

For a while, they continue on in silence. Well, “silence” is technically the wrong word, but the point is, they don’t talk. Crowley is driving, Aziraphale is in the passenger’s seat, and Sardis sits in the middle of the backseat. For a while, there is nothing except Anathema’s snoring. Honestly, they put up with the sound for a surprisingly long time.

Crowley’s patience runs out first. He needs to hear something that isn’t snoring, so he goes for the radio. Which, as it turns out, is a bit of a mistake. You see, the SUV has now had the benefit of Celestial Energy for a couple of days, and has started to wake up – slowly mind you. With you being in charge of the music with a playlist, it’s had some time to listen to a wide variety of music. It is now developing its own mind and its own taste. Remember that this is not the Bentley. The Bentley likes Queen. The SUV is a significantly younger model, and has decided it rather likes Taylor Swift. And when Crowley turns on the radio for the first time, it’s the equivalent of handing the car control of the playlist. So it decides to lead with Wildest Dreams, which, for those unfamiliar, goes like this:

He said “Let’s get out of this town,

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds.”

I thought “Heaven can’t help me now”

Nothing lasts forever

But this is gonna take me down

He’s so tall, and handsome as Hell

He’s so bad, but he does it so well.

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

Crowley slams the OFF button, intentionally with more force than necessary. Finally, after days of forcing them to listen to your songs, the brainrot is spreading.

“Are you alright there, Crowley?” Aziraphale asks gently.

“Fine, Angel,” Crowley mutters through gritted teeth, “Just remind me to throw that human’s blasted phone out the window next chance I get.”

“As long as they are also willing to play my symphonies, I will do no such thing.”

Crowley humphs, and settles back down. Sardis is smiling in the back seat. He waits a moment before speaking.

“So how long have the two of you been together?” he asks. Crowley swerves, but Aziraphale grabs the steering wheel to hold the car steady. Aziraphale gives Crowley a chastising look.

“Crowley, do get a hold of yourself dear, the humans are sleeping.”

“Why should I care?” he growls, definitely because he is a demon and definitely not because if the humans were to wake up there would be a buffer so they wouldn’t have this conversation. Definitely.

Aziraphale sighs. “We’re not, I’m afraid,” he says, “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Can’t fool me, sunshine. I’ve been around too.”

“Can I at least throw him out the window?” Crowley mutters. Aziraphale ignores him.

“It’s best not to discuss it,” he says instead to Sardis, “Rather a dangerous topic.”

Sardis hums to himself thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re staring the end of the world in the face,” he says, “But sure.” And he leaves it there. Silence returns. Actual silence, as Anathema has finally stopped snoring. Suddenly the air feels thick and uncomfortable. Aziraphale clears his throat.

“It’s very kind of you to be helping us,” Aziraphale tries.

“Yeah well,” Sardis says with a shrug, “Not exactly keen on the world ending. I’d rather not go to Heaven OR Hell if I can help it.”

“Oh come now, Heaven’s not all that bad.”

“You ever been?” Sardis asks with a chuckle. Crowley snorts a laugh despite himself. “There, you see,” Sardis says, pointing at the demon, “He gets it.” Aziraphale sits back with a harumph, and decides that staring out the window is the better option after all.

This time the silence lasts another hour at least. The sky is darkening, the stars appearing over the sparse Texas landscape. Out here in the middle of practically nowhere, the sky is hardly sleeping. There are millions of stars out here. Far from the light pollution they even have different colours, and there is a faint white swipe across the sky – the Milky Way Galaxy, visible to the naked eye from one of its own resident planets. Dear Reader, if ever you get a chance to get away away from the light pollution, do so. It is breathtaking.

At least, it is until Anathema snorts and grumbles awake.

“My neck hurts,” she complains, still half asleep. She blinks herself into a more-coherent state. “If we don’t pull over so I can get a good sleep, I will curse every single one of you.” She rolls her head to the other side and mutters “I will. I know how.”

The celestials look at each other.

“I think,” Aziraphale says, “That perhaps resting for the night would be a good thing.”

Crowley nods, if only because he doesn’t want to test Anathema’s threat. It doesn’t take long for them to find a convenient motel conveniently located just off the road they are currently on. Conveniently. Because I say so.

This is also when you wake up. You’re groggy and sore, but the lights of the motel bring you out from the lull of sleep, and as soon as your brain realizes you are at a motel, you wake up fast. Why? Because you are at a motel. While on a mission to save the world. Your fan-brain is already going at a hundred miles an hour by the time Crowley parks. You practically jump out of the car. Does this place have a weird gimmick or theme? Does it have a pool? A sketchy lobby? Local supernatural lore?? You have questions and you need to know. But, ah, not alone. At a random sketchy motel. In the middle of nowhere. At night. So you hesitate and wait for everyone else to get themselves together and exit the vehicle. Crowley pops the trunk so you can go get your bag, and by the time you get back, Sardis and Aziraphale are already gone – checking you all in, no doubt.

Under the questionable fluorescent lights, you can see a wooden gate. Well, I mean...curiosity such and such, right? You saunter over, and peek between the boards. It looks like...Yes! A pool! Will you be swimming in it? Absolutely not. Are you excited that this place has one anyway? Absolutely yes.

“Okay,” Sardis calls behind you. You turn around and see him waving a card key against a door. “I’m all set. Good night folks!” You wave to him as he disappears into his room and the door clicks shut behind him. Aziraphale walks to the next room and opens it with a similar card key. You follow. Honestly, you’re expecting him to have expanded the room into another Royal Suite or something, but when you follow him into the room you find...a normal motel room with two beds. Oh, this is excellent. You turn to face Crowley and Aziraphale with a huge smile on your face.

“I am not sharing a bed with either of you,” You declare, “Because you,” You point at Aziraphale, “Will definitely be awake all night reading with the light on. And you” You point at Crowley “Are exactly the type to take all the blankets. I will share with Anathema because we actually need to sleep. SO as far as YOU TWO are concerned – THERE’S ONLY ONE BED!!” You stand there with your hands on your hips. You are triumphant. You have won. There is only one bed. A fan’s dream! Fanfiction trope come to life! Everything seems possible and wonderful for a moment…

Until Aziraphale hands you another card key.

“You and Miss Device are in the room next door,” he says. Damn. Logic. You deflate really quickly and take the key with a huff. As you approach the door, you turn to look at them over your shoulder.

“I hope you share anyway,” You mutter, before you exit.

The room next door is identical. Anathema, apparently, is able to fall asleep pretty quickly, but you can’t settle your brain that easily. So you may or may not spend some time trying that trick where you put a glass up against the wall to try and hear what’s on the other side. Not that you want to snoop, but, well, yeah okay you want to snoop a little. Unfortunately it doesn’t work, so you give up and watch tik tok on your phone instead. Your battery hasn’t needed recharging since you started hanging out with supernatural entities. Funny, that. Between Tik Tok, Reddit, and Tumblr, you’re able to eventually wear out your brain enough to make closing your eyes a good call. And from there you fall back asleep with no issue.

And yes, Dear Reader, Crowley and Aziraphale did share a bed. Just so you know.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[whitherwanderer]

1 // steer

// a response to S&S. 506 words. Cyberpunk 2077 AU. Sif is pissed.

“Road legs” was the term, as she explained it to the motel room ceiling fan.

Nomads weren’t nearly as creative with names as they were with a campfire, sauces from the bottom of a diner to-go bag, and some unlucky possums—but it did get the idea across. Easy enough to understand the terrestrial equivalent to feeling like you’re on a boat days after getting back on land, when a ten hour drive was long enough for most to start dreaming about the road even when sprawled out on a truck bed under the stars.

Hard to shake off that shudder of her Thorton’s frame on a stretch of old highway, the blur of the lane lines whipping by, and the quiet unease of knowing a pothole the size of a small sedan could sneak up on her if she glanced away for even a milisec—all of it kept at bay by the more urgent need to complain about whatever was on the radio. It kept her up at night; she jolted awake each time she felt herself drifting into sleep, like she might be veering off course towards certain, fiery death at 90mph for the human crime of being a little tired and distractible even hours after her hands had left the wheel.

So what was the opposite of that? Not the weariness of it, but the longing for it? Unable to keep still, pacing around the room and lying down to check her phone, and pacing some more and lying back down to stare at the ceiling fan, and flipping through every channel on the motel TV because it felt close enough to flicking up the speed on cruise control. Was there a name for that?

Roadsickness?

Like homesickness? Would she even know how to draw the comparison? Gotta have a home for that, she muttered to the ceiling fan. It didn’t have much to contribute to the thought.

It might be nice, she told it, if she could remedy this restlessness by kicking up some dust on the roads just outside the city. But, oh yeah, someone killed her fuckin’ truck. Yeah. Killed it. With a fuckin’ knife!

It wasn’t the ceiling fan, but there was a long, heavy sigh in response. She pretended it was the ceiling fan because it might have been the only way she kept herself from physically strangling the next person to step into her crosshairs.

Yes, she knew it was the truck or them. Yes, she knew what the Scavs would have done if they had caught them. But that truck was thousands of eds and countless hours of work with her own two hands! Her whole damn life was under that hood! Why the hell did it always come to lose-lose in this fuckin’ city?

If anyone could fix it, it'd be a nomad, right? It rattled at her. She’d get back behind the wheel soon enough.

She fumed quietly. Well, no one else was ever going to touch the wheel again, that was for damn sure.

[atlas-library]

Giggling and kicking my feet and twirling my hair and going "oh my gawd" every time I re-read the nsfw alphabet that you did of toge your brain is so huge💞 gigantic even. You said you don't think he talks during those times (understandable), but do you think he doesn't even like...say tuna? If he has to say something (best dirty talk ever)? Actually, do you think he ever has to fight off the urge to actually speak and say something during sex, and then gets like. Upset at himself inside?

Okay so first of all, I'm gonna cry, this is the sweetest comment ever omg 🥹🥹 I haven't given up on this blog btw, I haven't posted in a while but I just got sick + I have a new job starting soon + somehow the creative juice got sucked out of me, BUT I'M STILL HERE AND THIS COMMENT!!! IT GIVES ME MORE REASONS TO KEEP PESTERING Y'ALL!!! 😭😭😭 so yeah tysm for your comment it just made my night 🥹🥹💗💗

Okay, regarding your questions (nsfw, so find it under the cut!!)

I actually think he would use some rice-ingredient words!

In-between the moans and whimpers, the pants and grunts coming from you both, he would probably ask how you're doing— A small "Mustard leaf?", or even some "Tuna tuna!" when he feels you drift away. And if you ask him how he's holding up, he'd try to give you a shaky "S-salmon..!" so you keep going.

I just think overall he tries to keep quiet, mostly because of how insatiable he is and thus how long sessions can be— If it's his first or second orgasm, he's not necessarily going to slip out. He has enough control to remember he can't fully let go. The more you go on, though... well, you both remember the time when he screamed of pleasure— That was wild, even for him. Sometimes you leave him a crying mess, and all you can do is watch as he pants and lets out unintelligible whimpers.

I also definitely think he would try to say your name. I headcanon Toge with a speech impediment, mainly him stuttering and stammering because he doesn't often get to pronounce new words; he knows his commands by heart, as well as Yuuta's name (and even then, he would pronounce it "Yuuda" at first). However, I think he'd try very hard to pronounce everyone else's names correctly, especially if he got caught doing it and basically got the equivalent of a pat on the head. For his significant other, it's clear he'd try his hardest: he can't tell you how important you are to him, so he'll try to do something simple yet very meaningful for the both of you. He'll try to pronounce your name, without stuttering— And it might slip out during sex.

Whenever he uses it, even though it doesn't seem to affect him, it does affect you: you can't say if it's actual cursed energy or simply your feelings for him, but you find yourself staring at him, admiring his features and drinking any sound leaking from his lips.

🍵 Okay, let's take a breather now. 🍵

...

🍵 Breathe in.. breathe out. 🍵

About your last question— Toge's curse is being a passionate soul forced to silence. He hides it well, but he feels a lot; he's a control freak, similar to Maki (even though they'd never admit it), because that's how he hurts the least amount of people. Before the school, before Gojo, before Panda (his first friend)— Toge was alone. He wouldn't say a word, hands would be shoved against his mouth if he dared breathe too loud. The only person who never shushed him nor feared him ended up being cursed by him— Clearly, everyone's better off far away from him.

The problem is, Toge is a lover. I'm an Inuokko shipper first and foremost so this might be where this idea comes from, but, even platonically, I think Toge would be the one to relate most to Rika. They're like two sides of the same coin when it comes to love. @gelatosushix made a wonderful post about it, so I won't dive too deep into this, but basically: Rika kills when she loves, but Toge dies when he loves.

A common mistake would be comparing Toge to a moth, drawn to fire and getting burnt by it. Toge isn't the moth; he's the flame. You're the moth. He's captivating, he has this mysterious aura yet somehow seems like an open book, but only if you ask the right questions— Only if you learn his language (and I'm not talking about rice ingredients). He intoxicates you, draws you in with his gaze (whether a purple wine with violet droplets, or a fiery brown with amber lights).

Then, he pulls his collar down: tattoos, or maybe burn scars, marking his cheeks and tongue as death takes the form of a baby-faced man. He's a weapon, one even Maki can't wield. He's feared. And yet— The raspiness of his voice, the deep accents scratching his throat— They get to you. Stupid moth flying to its death. At least it'll be sweet, you think.

Toge kills for people, because killing goes hand-in-hand with dying in his case. Toge loves by pushing away; that's how it's always been, that's what he's been taught. Yet you're here— You're holding him, stroking his cheek, singing his name, giving yourself to him. It feels right, it feels like everything he's ever wanted, it feels like so little yet so much to him— And he hates it.

You deserve it all and he deserves nothing. You deserve words. Not silly ones, actual words— But he can't say it. He can't stutter that he loves you, because what if? He could curse you. He could ruin your life, and Toge's already ruined so many lives in the past— It weighs on his soul, yet he can endure it; as long as you're not the next accursed.

So he bites down. On your skin, on his hand, on the pillow— Anything, anywhere. He bites down to keep the sounds from coming out. And if you reassure him, tell him that you know, he doesn't need to say it— He starts crying. He hates himself, he hates his curse, he hates the fucking marks on his face.

His hips slam against yours, he grabs at your skin; you're near, he knows it. He knows you by heart, that's the least he can do.

Deeper, deeper, deeper— You reach the stars first, but he follows soon after. And he keeps crying. He cries the rest of the night, even with you holding him and whispering against his lips. He has to grab onto you so he doesn't run to the bathroom to desperatly try and wash his markings off.

Toge is a lover, a passionate soul forbidden from opening his heart; he hates emotional sex because of how much his heart bleeds from it. It ignites his flame, lures you in even more; and when his cries fill the room, when he hugs you tight— It's like you're a butterfly, pinned by the thorns of a rose you were drinking from.